Disclaimer: the "new coke, diet coke" line is from Dreams of Rio, undisputed king of the early 80's radio dramas. The number 2,059 is from Tom Strong. If you're folloing along with the soundtrack, a good place to start "24Hours Open" would be right after they enter the Mall. The next one will have slash, I promise.
* * * * * * *
From the outside, it resembled nothing so much as a giant, glittering easter egg, bedecked in lights and logos, shimmering with advertisements and cautions not to smoke, as mall security would not hesitate to respond with deadly force. Jet left the Bebop on one of the 2,059 smaller surrounding asteroids devoted to parking, and the two bounty hunters entered the Mall.
Inside, nervous crowds huddled together, keeping away from the walls where groups of youths dressed all in black, or in stylishly ripped and logo'd clothing, violated the non-smoking agreement. The muzak, engineered to produce a calming effect, created instead a menacing, controlling presence. Over the cheery din, shots could be heard.
"Remember, we're parked in Lot Blue," said Jet.
"This is the worst place I have ever been," replied Spike. "How many Starbucks have we passed?"
"24. They have one every quarter-mile, so we'll pass another...let's see...38."
Spike moaned, softly.
Eventually they came to a massive black door. Jet turned to Spike. "This is the enterance to the domain of the Hot Topics."
"You make it sound like some ancient cult."
Jet gave him a long look. "If I don't come out within an hour, I want you to come in after me. Wait out here, and don't wander off. The mall is like a labyrinth; you won't be able to find your way back."
"Sure."
"I mean it, Spike. *Stay here*." He turned and went through the foreboding portal.
Spike wandered off down the corridor, looking at the people. Small fry, 2000 woolongs, civilian, civilian, mobster but no bounty, moll, small fry, small fry, small fry. His stomach rumbled.
Eventually he came to a grimy-looking bar. Probably the last of its chain, originally a nice place to bring your family, but now frequented by lowlifes, the scum of the earth. Just his kind of place.
Spike sidled up to the bar, hands in his pockets. A bored looking teenager in a small hat was waiting at the register. "Rum and coke."
"Coca-cola?"
"Yes."
"What kind?"
"Huh?"
She rattled off a list in a nasal, robotic whine. "New coke, diet coke, vanilla coke, caffeine free coke, cherry coke, diet vanilla coke, caffeine free diet coke, caffeine free diet coke with lemon, caffeine free cherry coke, caffeine free diet cherry coke with lemon?"
"Just coke. You know? Coke?"
"Ohhh. Classic." She puttered off to do something not entirely decent with the soda machine. Spike leaned back against the bar and took a long drag on his cigarette, scoping out the patrons.
"Hey, handsome. Buy you a drink?"
Spike looked around to see a diminutive man in a red mesh shirt staring up at him.
"Excuse me?"
He repeated himself, louder. "Can I buy you a drink?"
There was an unusually large percentage of men in this bar. Something along the lines of one hundred percent. Several were dancing together next to the jukebox.
"Oh! No, I'm not-- I think you've made a mistake," said Spike, mentally admonishing himself to be more observant in the future.
"It's you who's made a mistake." said the man.
"Uh?" Spike shifted his gaze back to him.
"I can show you a real good time. Better than anything you--"
"Spike!" Jet grabbed Spike by the back of the collar and dragged him out of the bar. "Come on, stop wasting time! I've got us a real lead!"
"Hmph," said the small man to another man at the bar. "Guess he likes the rough stuff."
* * * * * * *
From the outside, it resembled nothing so much as a giant, glittering easter egg, bedecked in lights and logos, shimmering with advertisements and cautions not to smoke, as mall security would not hesitate to respond with deadly force. Jet left the Bebop on one of the 2,059 smaller surrounding asteroids devoted to parking, and the two bounty hunters entered the Mall.
Inside, nervous crowds huddled together, keeping away from the walls where groups of youths dressed all in black, or in stylishly ripped and logo'd clothing, violated the non-smoking agreement. The muzak, engineered to produce a calming effect, created instead a menacing, controlling presence. Over the cheery din, shots could be heard.
"Remember, we're parked in Lot Blue," said Jet.
"This is the worst place I have ever been," replied Spike. "How many Starbucks have we passed?"
"24. They have one every quarter-mile, so we'll pass another...let's see...38."
Spike moaned, softly.
Eventually they came to a massive black door. Jet turned to Spike. "This is the enterance to the domain of the Hot Topics."
"You make it sound like some ancient cult."
Jet gave him a long look. "If I don't come out within an hour, I want you to come in after me. Wait out here, and don't wander off. The mall is like a labyrinth; you won't be able to find your way back."
"Sure."
"I mean it, Spike. *Stay here*." He turned and went through the foreboding portal.
Spike wandered off down the corridor, looking at the people. Small fry, 2000 woolongs, civilian, civilian, mobster but no bounty, moll, small fry, small fry, small fry. His stomach rumbled.
Eventually he came to a grimy-looking bar. Probably the last of its chain, originally a nice place to bring your family, but now frequented by lowlifes, the scum of the earth. Just his kind of place.
Spike sidled up to the bar, hands in his pockets. A bored looking teenager in a small hat was waiting at the register. "Rum and coke."
"Coca-cola?"
"Yes."
"What kind?"
"Huh?"
She rattled off a list in a nasal, robotic whine. "New coke, diet coke, vanilla coke, caffeine free coke, cherry coke, diet vanilla coke, caffeine free diet coke, caffeine free diet coke with lemon, caffeine free cherry coke, caffeine free diet cherry coke with lemon?"
"Just coke. You know? Coke?"
"Ohhh. Classic." She puttered off to do something not entirely decent with the soda machine. Spike leaned back against the bar and took a long drag on his cigarette, scoping out the patrons.
"Hey, handsome. Buy you a drink?"
Spike looked around to see a diminutive man in a red mesh shirt staring up at him.
"Excuse me?"
He repeated himself, louder. "Can I buy you a drink?"
There was an unusually large percentage of men in this bar. Something along the lines of one hundred percent. Several were dancing together next to the jukebox.
"Oh! No, I'm not-- I think you've made a mistake," said Spike, mentally admonishing himself to be more observant in the future.
"It's you who's made a mistake." said the man.
"Uh?" Spike shifted his gaze back to him.
"I can show you a real good time. Better than anything you--"
"Spike!" Jet grabbed Spike by the back of the collar and dragged him out of the bar. "Come on, stop wasting time! I've got us a real lead!"
"Hmph," said the small man to another man at the bar. "Guess he likes the rough stuff."