-Virus Edward
-Mike256bit [mike_256bit@hotmail.com]

A Cowboy Bebop based fanfic.

Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop or its creations. I DO own Karl Marx.

Warning: Don't own Karl Marx.

My notes: This is part two of 'Virus Edward'. You should have read the first chapter to be here. You didn't?! MA! GET THE GUNS!


Addendum to music:
-"Hungarian Rhapsody 02" Franz Liszt
-"Concerto for four violins in B major" Antonio Vivaldi

--

Cowboy Bebop.


Jet tapped the telecommunicator, the screen popping, then fizzling back to life. "I think I got the guys who sent the virus, Ed." He pulled the screen to a tilt, everyone gathering around to see.

"Let Edward see! Zoom zoom in my brain, Edward says they did!" She slipped forward, practically sitting on Jet's lap as her eyes scrambled over the screen. "Oo. . ." she rescanned, but shook her head. "Nu-uh. They don't know the system well enough to program a virus capable of running through the ISSP connections. It had to be someone from the inside."

"You mean," Jet muttered, scooting over a bit, "one of the heads of the ISSP is commissioning this?"

"Or one of the programmers," Spike distantly tossed in, eyes never leaving the back of Ed's head. He was waiting for the moment she would either explode or. . . possibly implode. He quickly turned to Faye, poking her in my arm. "I want my whiskey."

"Hey! She still might die!"

"That's a bit of morbid wishful thinking, eh Faye?"

She huffed, turning back to the screen. "Shut up, Spike."

Edward cleared her throat, bouncing a bit on the cushion of the sofa. "Ed thinks Jet should get back in contact with the ISSP. Edward thinks you might have been told for a reason."

"Like a set-up?" he gruffly asked, suspiciously eying the characters on the screen.

"Maaaaybe! Or maybe someone just told the wrong person. It's possibly that a whole level of the ISSP is in on degenerating the system."

"Ow!" The two on the couch turned to Spike who was rubbing his cheek disdainfully. Faye stalked away, a definite ire to a walk. He shrugged, plucking a cigarette from seemingly nowhere. "I guess I poked her too hard." He kicked on a heel, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'mma head to bed. I suggest we set course for ISSP headquarters." He chuckled as he walked away, the click of his boots echoing over the bridge. "I knew I smelled bounty."

He disappeared up a set of stairs as Jet turned back to Edward, who sat idly on the edge of the couch. "Think we should take his advice?"

Ed nodded, kicking her feet a bit. "Edward thinks so."

There was a moment of silence as Ed wobbled from side to side, staring vapidly into space. "Ed? How ya feeling?"

She shrugged, running her hands under her arms; first left then right, as if checking for bullet wounds. "Edward doesn't feel it yet. . . " Suddenly she shouted a garble of sounds and jumped nimbly up on the edge of the couch. "RRRRRAAAOOOWWWWWLLL!!!!" The howl gave Jet about fifteen heart attacks and scared Ein from the room.

Gapping for breath, he peered at her cautiously. "Feelin' it now?"

She quickly shot a look at him, staring hard. Then her face softened as she smiled a sweet, kawaii type grin. "Nope! Edward's still fine!" Back flipping off the edge of the couch, Ed scampered off running backwards, her hands outstretched. "Yaah-woa-woa-woa!-OMPH!" There was a clang as Ed ran into a wall, bouncing forward to fall on her stomach.

Jet cringed, staring with concern over the back of the sofa. ". . . Ed?" She hopped up, flashing him an OK sign, and bolted from the room. Her playfully gleeful cries hung in the air as he turned back to settle on the couch. Sighing, he languidly pulled at his beard. "How will we be able to tell?"

--

Spike poked his head into the bridge, rubbing his eyes. Not being dressed made him cranky these days; relaxing in his undershorts and shirt did nothing to sooth him anymore. "Who is God's name is banging on the ship?!" The clangs were everywhere and were very frequent. Jet looked up, nursing a cup of coffee. He waved him over, taking a sip of the murky brew. In groggily passing a corridor, he saw Ed ram herself into a wall repeatedly.

"Oh, alright." Spike continued on, walking around the sofa to sit on the table. Looking in Ed's direction and then at Jet, he queried: "Virus kicked in?"

Jet chuckled, shaking his head. "Nope, she still says she feels normal. Only REAL change is that she hasn't slept."

"What's so abnormal about that? I've never seen Ed sleepin'."

"She sleeps when she gets tired. And she gets tired from runnin' about like a maniac. But she hasn't slept after literally bouncing off the walls in the gearshop for say. . . the last five hours. Even THAT would tire her out. She's been walking into that wall for the last hour now. When I tried to stop her, she insisted that it was good for the heart. Due to her recent outburst, I didn't really want to touch her."

Spike shook his head, rubbing his tired eyes. "This will be so much hell."

"I think I figured out what the deal is with the ISSP." Spike looked up, nodding. "Well, there's been a lot of tension between the Syndicates lately. Interconnections and a shitload of double-cross. Every time the ISSP tries to get involved hell tends to break loose. Now the ISSP is just lookin' for a reason to take out about half the universe, at least, the Syndicate universe, but they can't overstep bounds lest they become the bad guys."

Spike furrowed a brow, peering at the screen behind him. Tapping the faces, he spoke. "Those bounty heads can't be part of a syndicate. Anyone who gets a bounty on them gets killed by their own kind."

"Unless you're related to the head of said people! I did a hell of a lot of digging -- these two 'ringleaders' are the sons of the two biggest Syndicate leaders in a conglomerate agreement."

"No way they programmed that virus, though."

"Absolutely. It WAS internally programmed. But it was supplied to these two." There was a pause of clangs, each as violent as the one proceeding.

"So, the ISSP's got its reason. Virus, espionage, total degeneration and total warfare."

"Yup. The heads of the ISSP have been under reforms, but I hadn't suspected it to be based in bribery."

"You mean that conglomerate is sanctioning this?"

"They've got the most power --they'd have more after that virus hit."

"Hey," Spike mumbled. "We have one thing to be concerned with: the bounty heads."

"Agreed. After all, Ed intercepted that virus, so the warfare wont even happen."

Spike snorted, standing. "You don't think they'll try again?" Before Jet could answer, the bridge was filled with the patter of mad feet. Spike turned seeing a flurry of red hair swarm around the room.

"ZIGGY-ZOOOOOOMMMM!!" Edward's agile running took a skip and she suddenly curled into a ball, rolling dangerously fast into the back of the couch. It groaned and moved forward when she slammed into it, both her and the couch silent.

Spike glanced back to Jet, an amused grin on his face. "And you're sure that virus hasn't kicked in?" Jet shrugged as Edward finally hopped up, standing still behind the couch. She zipped her head around, silence filling the void for a few moments, when suddenly she shouted.

"OOWWWWW!!" She was again silenced as her gaze focused on Spike. For some reason, a pang of fear struck his heart.

He had good reason. Zipping in a flash, Edward was up on his shoulders, kicking off and forcing him to his stomach. "Hey!-Umph!" Spike landed with a wince, the wind knocked clean away. "Jet--" He was cut short when a set of feet were on his back, the heels digging in slightly; he could only pray.

They weren't answered. Edward began to shout his name, emphasizing each with a sharp jump on his back. "Spikey, Spikey, Spikey!" Each "Spike" was just that: like a stab to his spine, ribs, buttocks and stomach.

Grunting on each thrust of pain, he spoke through clenched teeth. "Jet. Do her the fortune of getting her off me before I alleviate that virus for her." Without needing second prompting, Jet was behind Ed, hands clamped on her arms.

"Alright, Ed, let's take a break." She wriggling in his grasp, whining as she was lifted. "But Ed wants to PLAAAAYYY!!" She began swinging her legs, somehow building the momentum to flip up and a seat herself on his shoulders. He was startled for a moment, more so when her teeth clamped down upon his shoulder.

"Ed," he slowly began, her gnawing only irritating his robotic arm slightly, "stop that."

She shook her head violently, still trying to bite the tough polymer of his arm. "Ed hungry wungry hungry Ed!" She dug her feet into his back, causing him to step forward a bit in a brief tip of pain. Spike was just getting up, rubbing his sore back and frontal regions. Jet was about to kindly request that Ed remove herself once more, when she suddenly fell away.


"You drugged her?" Spike asked, pressing the coldpack to his back and discreetly wiggling his backside on the similar compress on which he sat.

"No," Faye sneered, switching her gaze to the snoring figure on the couch. Jet felt Ed's forehead, a bit of a concerned look on his face. Faye snorted, sitting up. "Cut it out! I didn't give her a FEVER, Jet." He looked up but did not reply.

"You drugged her, Faye. Now THAT's low." Spike grappled for another cigarette, but moving his arms irritated his bruised insides.

"I did not! It was nail polish remover. Works just like chloroform."

"Yeah," Jet huffed, again feeling Edward's forehead. "And it's more lethal and potent."

She sneered again, looking at Jet. "Thanks for the gratitude. Prick."

"AAAHHHHH!!" Spike hopped to the side of his compress, bringing his inflamed arms up to shield his face when Ed jerked like a lightning bolt, sitting up quickly. Immediately he responded to Faye's amused look.

"It wasn't me screaming."

Ed's head zipped around, Jet tentatively reaching down to feel her forehead yet again. "Feelin' better, Ed?--"

"TOO MANY POTATOES!" He pulled his hand back as her teeth gnashed, Spike again preparing himself to cover his face. She turned to the other direction, however, and again scampered off into the reaches of the Bebop.

Faye scratched her head as two sets of eyes fell on her disapprovingly. "What? It's the virus!"

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you killed about half her brain with that nail polish stunt."

Jet sat where Ed once was, rubbing his tired eyes. "We've got to get that virus reversed or SOMETHING."

"I think we should concentrate on the bounty," Faye interjected, scratching her chin thoughtfully. "I mean, surely we can put up with her being like that for a LITTLE while."

Spike met her with a dead stare before answering. "We'll no doubt need her to GET the bounty, though. So we have to get her fixed first."

"I dunno, she seems sound-minded SOMETIMES, perhaps we can get this bounty before we fix her." As if to cue Jet's suggestion, there was a loud whine from Edward's computer. "Eh?"

"It's something about a waiting message," Spike observed, the pain finally beginning to drain out of him. "Ed said that she intercepted the last virus. Do you think this could be it again?"

Jet nodded as Faye rudely pushed Spike to the side so she could get a better look at the screen. "I'll. . ." he paused, brow furrowing a bit. When the sound of 'green is yummy!' filtered in his brain, his eyes widened as he ran from the room. "MY BONSAI!"


Jet streaked to a halt, nearly tearing slices in the flooring. He ripped the door open frantically, its ajar state alerting him of a previous entry. Peering in, he was horrified to see Ed sit in the corner, gnawing loudly on one of his best trimmed trees. While relieved she hadn't touched the others, the very thought wracked his mind. It was a simple joy in his life indeed, but it sure meant a lot to him.

"Edward!!"

She looked up, letting a leaf hang on her lips. "Hi! Edward's saving day from monster zucchini!" She tossed the tree up, clapping her hands. Jet grimaced, watching it sail through the air. It felt like a 'save the day moment' as he rushed forth, almost knowing that it would land in his outstretched hands.

Only in the story books, Jet.

Instead, he stopped a foot short, the plant crashing down on Edward's head. She rattled like a clanged bell, arms and legs vibrating as the plant tipped forward and then into Jet's hands. He quickly placed it on a table, reasoning that he could worry about it later as he hefted Edward to her feet. "You alright?"

She looked up to him, one eyelid hanging lazily as the other eye tried to focus on him. "Edward f. . . whoooaaa . . ." She fell back into Jet's hands as he set her straight again.

His thoughts raced, balancing the fact that this would settle her down, and the fact that she's probably been so brain damaged today that she'd be dead by tomorrow. At least Faye would get something out of it.

Jet could remember the one thing that got Ed going. "Say, Edward, wanna go reverse some virus programmin's?" Both her eyes shot open as she nodded enthusiastically.

"Fun Ed likes to have! Let's go!!" 'Vrooming', she raced out of Jet's grasp and towards the bridge. Jet followed, wondering if it was time to invest in a door lock and maybe a child psychology book.


"Mail for Edward! Fun fun, Ed says!" The wild child sat as Jet entered the room, praying silently that she wouldn't sporadically flip out and break her computer or something. Spike, now out of the boxer-and-undershirt set that came with his waking up, sat casually suited next to Edward. Wary, yes, but much more couth about it.

"Oh!" Ed yelped, scrambling to put her goggles on. "It's the Blamo-Edward virus! Iiiiiiiit's time for Ed to shiiiiiine!"

"That sounds discouraging," Faye laughed in a matter-o-factly manner.

"For the virus senders," Spike finished scooting a bit away from Ed. He wrenched his cigarettes from his sleeve, biting the last one.

A fury of typing quickly commenced, Edward rewarding the room with a bright smile. "Targeted and virused! Ed caught them in their own ship! All the Beep-beep-bebop has to do is pick 'em up."

Spike leaned back, sighing out a puff of smoke from his idle cigarette. "Great. And the virus?"

Ed turned, scratching her head. "Virus? Aha! Ed found that it was benign!" She grinned, tapping her chin. "Purely psychosomatic!"

Spike, nearly dropping the cigarette, turned to Jet and then Faye. The stares were returned as Ein entered, giving a bark.

--

"Let Edward out! Ed wants her whiskey!!"

Spike, turning from the bolt lock on the bathroom door, shrugged and set a small glass on the floor. Pouring a bit from the quart, he walked back to the bridge.

After he left, Ein walked by, sniffing the air. Moving to the glass he pulled in the scent, lapping up the alcohol.

"SPPIIIIIKKEEE!"


Jet tapped the base of his beloved bonsai, sighing at the crack in the pot. The ship rumbled as it took off, leaving the bounty station. He traced the crack with his finger, then tapped the table once.

The ISSP would have some explaining to do; he could get the information and he would. But then again, Spike was right: all they were in it for was the bounty. The virus senders were a small step; perhaps it was time the ISSP degenerated on someone else's terms.


The frazzle-haired jack-of-all-trades plopped down on the couch, looking up to Faye as he lazily tipped the quart. "Drink, Faye?" He grinned, setting out some shot glasses. "It's on me."





Get wasted, space cowboy.





Ai! Hmm, looks like there's a subplot in there SOMEWHERE. M'thinks there's something to continue. . . hmm. . . (Which yes, it has. 'Mars Fusion' is the next installment.)