Cowboy Bebop - Whispers of a Ghost
Spike/Julia Romance-ish type fic. This is my first one so, be nice when you
review. Spike's never-ending quest to find Julia confronts him with his
shady past. Set before the series begins.
It was raining...
It always rained...
It rained that day too...
Spike Spiegel was a dead man. He was dead inside and to the world. He died years ago in a gang-related incident in which he attacked the Red Dragon syndicate, one of the most powerful mafia organizations to exist. That life was over, it had died.
The blond woman that he had loved in that life was gone also. He knew he would never see her again, but he never found out what happened to her. He clung to that thought with all he had. The mere idea of her being alive kept him alive. It kept him moving.
Now he had to start all over. He was a different person, or at least he wanted to be a different person. Spike was never very fond of the memories he had of his past life. And he was very hopeful he would forget it. It wouldn't come easy, but he had to forget. He had to let it all be in the past and not rule this new beginning.
Except...except he could never forget her. She would remain in the back of his mind and could never be erased from his mind. And because of that his past would never truly be forgotten.
The rain always brought him back...
No, he had to forget. It was done and gone. He was moving on with his life.
A loud rumble emitted from his stomach. Food sounded good about now. Emptying his pockets he found nothing but lint, a paperclip and a wad of gum rolled in its aluminum foil wrapper. Nothing that would get him anything to eat that wasn't out of a dumpster.
A man came running down the street carrying a bag seemingly running from someone, presumably the police because no one ever ran like that unless it was for their life. After the man ducked into a building a police squad car drove down the same road almost taking out a street light. The police car drove by without noticing Spike or the small man in the doorway of the abandoned building, whom was panting heavily.
"Rob a bank or something?" Spike talked calmly, as if he'd said it thousands of times. He had this smug, "I'm above robbing for money" kind of look on his face that simply disgusted the robber.
"Back off. I don't want no trouble." The guy pulled out a pistol. A small black Beretta 9mm. The safety was on.
"Either give me the money or I'll turn you in." Spike wasn't sure what he was saying but watching a lot of TV helped him realize that if someone committed a crime and got away, there would be a reward for the capture of the person.
"I said back off!"
"What are you gonna do about it?"
"You got a death wish or something?"
"Why not? I already died once..." After stumping the guy with the last line Spike quickly ran over to the man and swung a punch from a few feet away. Out of instinct the man dodged the punch by pushing against the doorway to the other side and place the gun to Spike's head.
"You just couldn't leave me alone, could you?" He gently squeezed the trigger of the pistol.
"You couldn't remember to take the safety off, so we're even." Spike shoved the heel of his right hand upward into the bottom of the gun knocking it away from his head. He turned and swung his left across his body to him the man square in the chest with the heel of his hand. The robber was effectively defeated in one swift hit.
Spike took the bag the man had been carrying and opened it up. There was maybe two thousand woolongs in the bag, which wasn't too bad. He stashed it inside the building's furnace down in the basement and went back outside to find the man still lying down trying to catch his breath. Spike picked up the gun and tucked it into his pants in the small of his back and looked around for a payphone. He dialed 911 and asked if there was a reward yet for the man responsible for the bank robbery.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to sir. There haven't been any reports of a bank robbery yet. Do you need to report one?"
"Umm...no. I must be mistaken." And Spike slammed the phone down. "Oh shit..." Spike had just robbed some guy running home after withdrawing all the money in his account.
"Are you sure, sir? If you have any information..." The click of the phone cut off the woman's voice. Spike turned from the payphone to the man propped up against the doorway of the building. "Oops."
The man groaned. "Well Spike, you beat the guy up, stole his money, and hid that money where he'll probably never find it. What do you do now?" Spike thought over this as he walked back to the man whom wasn't fully conscious yet. He looked down at him and pondered his next move. His first thought became his first action. Spike drew back his first and punched the guy in the side of the head, knocking him out.
* * * * * *
It was a woman that answered the phone.
"911 Emergency Response, how can I help you?"
"Yeah, I was just mugged by some crazy guy with green puffy hair. He stole all my money and ran off."
"Sir, calm down. Where are you right now?"
"I don't know. I was running home from the bank cause it was getting' late, y'know?"
"Alright, sir? We're going to trace the number you're calling from and have a squad car near you head there. Do you want to stay on the line until the police arrive?"
"I guess. I don't know what happened. He just attacked me."
"Don't worry sir. We've already traced the number and a squad car is en route. Now, when they get there, make sure to tell them everything that happened. Okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, okay."
The dispatcher looked at the number that the man was calling from. She had traced the number of the guy that called in about some robbery that never existed and she noticed the numbers were exactly the same. She thought about the possibility of this being connected, but disregarded it for the moment and rerouted a squad car to the man the address of the traced number.
* * * * * *
Spike Spiegel now had a full stomach and a bit of money to burn. After knocking the guy out a second time he retrieved the money and decided to dispose of the evidence as soon as possible. Most likely now there would be a reward for his capture instead of the man he mugged. "Oops." The thought still passed through his mind. He made a rookie mistake. He should have judged the guy before going after him. After his years in the syndicate he should have been able to tell if the guy was a thief or not. Spike shrugged his shoulders. "Se la vie."
Despite his renewed involvement in crime, Spike was trying to figure out any way he could make legitimate money. Poker tournaments were played all over the place. Space-stations-turned-casinos were littering space like confetti in the dark void that surrounded them, not to say anything bad about casinos. The casinos sponsored the tournaments, and all you had to do was pay a little entrance fee.
"Spike Spiegel, professional poker player. That sounds too...corny, but it's quick cash if you can play it right." Now the only question Spike was concentrating on was "Can I do it right?"
* * * * * *
Spike hopped a transport to a casino just off-planet. It was huge, with about eighty floors, each floor dedicated to a different kind of gambling. Someone had said that on some of the stations that were renovated, the casinos and actually put in a horseracing track in the bottom decks. There were several floors used to place bets on professional sports, as well as horseracing, so it was entirely possible.
The elevator stopped on the sixty-third floor which was for Texas Hold 'Em-style poker. He looked over the playing floor and saw this vast area of playing tables and bars and TVs and huge fountains all over the place. "Sweet mother of Mars." Spike thought as he looked over his new arena.
He caught wind that there was going to be a big tournament sometime next week. That gave Spike a week to hone his poker skills that way he could win some big money. He just hoped the guy he "mugged" hadn't been able to give a clear picture of him, so he wouldn't get red flagged at the casinos.
Spike got five hundred Woolongs in chips and headed for a table that had only a few people that looked like they were just weekend players, not really the hardcore ones that played in the tournaments. He needed to pick up on anything anyone did. He needed to figure out how to find tells, things that gave away what kind of hand they had, and if they were bluffing or not. This would be a real test of mental awareness for Spike, which wasn't always a strong trait of his, but he wanted the eight million Woolong prize. And this was just a stepping-stone to getting there.
A/N: Okay, I know the romantic-Julia/Spike-type stuff has happened yet, but I'll be building up to it, I think. I don't know, I'm not too keen on writing a romance fic really. It's not in my blood. I am definitely going to try and the next chapter will include Julia, I promise. Since you've gotten this far down the page, please R&R. I enjoy constructive criticism as well as compliments. Almost anything to help me make this however much better will be greatly appreciated. Thanks!
It was raining...
It always rained...
It rained that day too...
Spike Spiegel was a dead man. He was dead inside and to the world. He died years ago in a gang-related incident in which he attacked the Red Dragon syndicate, one of the most powerful mafia organizations to exist. That life was over, it had died.
The blond woman that he had loved in that life was gone also. He knew he would never see her again, but he never found out what happened to her. He clung to that thought with all he had. The mere idea of her being alive kept him alive. It kept him moving.
Now he had to start all over. He was a different person, or at least he wanted to be a different person. Spike was never very fond of the memories he had of his past life. And he was very hopeful he would forget it. It wouldn't come easy, but he had to forget. He had to let it all be in the past and not rule this new beginning.
Except...except he could never forget her. She would remain in the back of his mind and could never be erased from his mind. And because of that his past would never truly be forgotten.
The rain always brought him back...
No, he had to forget. It was done and gone. He was moving on with his life.
A loud rumble emitted from his stomach. Food sounded good about now. Emptying his pockets he found nothing but lint, a paperclip and a wad of gum rolled in its aluminum foil wrapper. Nothing that would get him anything to eat that wasn't out of a dumpster.
A man came running down the street carrying a bag seemingly running from someone, presumably the police because no one ever ran like that unless it was for their life. After the man ducked into a building a police squad car drove down the same road almost taking out a street light. The police car drove by without noticing Spike or the small man in the doorway of the abandoned building, whom was panting heavily.
"Rob a bank or something?" Spike talked calmly, as if he'd said it thousands of times. He had this smug, "I'm above robbing for money" kind of look on his face that simply disgusted the robber.
"Back off. I don't want no trouble." The guy pulled out a pistol. A small black Beretta 9mm. The safety was on.
"Either give me the money or I'll turn you in." Spike wasn't sure what he was saying but watching a lot of TV helped him realize that if someone committed a crime and got away, there would be a reward for the capture of the person.
"I said back off!"
"What are you gonna do about it?"
"You got a death wish or something?"
"Why not? I already died once..." After stumping the guy with the last line Spike quickly ran over to the man and swung a punch from a few feet away. Out of instinct the man dodged the punch by pushing against the doorway to the other side and place the gun to Spike's head.
"You just couldn't leave me alone, could you?" He gently squeezed the trigger of the pistol.
"You couldn't remember to take the safety off, so we're even." Spike shoved the heel of his right hand upward into the bottom of the gun knocking it away from his head. He turned and swung his left across his body to him the man square in the chest with the heel of his hand. The robber was effectively defeated in one swift hit.
Spike took the bag the man had been carrying and opened it up. There was maybe two thousand woolongs in the bag, which wasn't too bad. He stashed it inside the building's furnace down in the basement and went back outside to find the man still lying down trying to catch his breath. Spike picked up the gun and tucked it into his pants in the small of his back and looked around for a payphone. He dialed 911 and asked if there was a reward yet for the man responsible for the bank robbery.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to sir. There haven't been any reports of a bank robbery yet. Do you need to report one?"
"Umm...no. I must be mistaken." And Spike slammed the phone down. "Oh shit..." Spike had just robbed some guy running home after withdrawing all the money in his account.
"Are you sure, sir? If you have any information..." The click of the phone cut off the woman's voice. Spike turned from the payphone to the man propped up against the doorway of the building. "Oops."
The man groaned. "Well Spike, you beat the guy up, stole his money, and hid that money where he'll probably never find it. What do you do now?" Spike thought over this as he walked back to the man whom wasn't fully conscious yet. He looked down at him and pondered his next move. His first thought became his first action. Spike drew back his first and punched the guy in the side of the head, knocking him out.
* * * * * *
It was a woman that answered the phone.
"911 Emergency Response, how can I help you?"
"Yeah, I was just mugged by some crazy guy with green puffy hair. He stole all my money and ran off."
"Sir, calm down. Where are you right now?"
"I don't know. I was running home from the bank cause it was getting' late, y'know?"
"Alright, sir? We're going to trace the number you're calling from and have a squad car near you head there. Do you want to stay on the line until the police arrive?"
"I guess. I don't know what happened. He just attacked me."
"Don't worry sir. We've already traced the number and a squad car is en route. Now, when they get there, make sure to tell them everything that happened. Okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, okay."
The dispatcher looked at the number that the man was calling from. She had traced the number of the guy that called in about some robbery that never existed and she noticed the numbers were exactly the same. She thought about the possibility of this being connected, but disregarded it for the moment and rerouted a squad car to the man the address of the traced number.
* * * * * *
Spike Spiegel now had a full stomach and a bit of money to burn. After knocking the guy out a second time he retrieved the money and decided to dispose of the evidence as soon as possible. Most likely now there would be a reward for his capture instead of the man he mugged. "Oops." The thought still passed through his mind. He made a rookie mistake. He should have judged the guy before going after him. After his years in the syndicate he should have been able to tell if the guy was a thief or not. Spike shrugged his shoulders. "Se la vie."
Despite his renewed involvement in crime, Spike was trying to figure out any way he could make legitimate money. Poker tournaments were played all over the place. Space-stations-turned-casinos were littering space like confetti in the dark void that surrounded them, not to say anything bad about casinos. The casinos sponsored the tournaments, and all you had to do was pay a little entrance fee.
"Spike Spiegel, professional poker player. That sounds too...corny, but it's quick cash if you can play it right." Now the only question Spike was concentrating on was "Can I do it right?"
* * * * * *
Spike hopped a transport to a casino just off-planet. It was huge, with about eighty floors, each floor dedicated to a different kind of gambling. Someone had said that on some of the stations that were renovated, the casinos and actually put in a horseracing track in the bottom decks. There were several floors used to place bets on professional sports, as well as horseracing, so it was entirely possible.
The elevator stopped on the sixty-third floor which was for Texas Hold 'Em-style poker. He looked over the playing floor and saw this vast area of playing tables and bars and TVs and huge fountains all over the place. "Sweet mother of Mars." Spike thought as he looked over his new arena.
He caught wind that there was going to be a big tournament sometime next week. That gave Spike a week to hone his poker skills that way he could win some big money. He just hoped the guy he "mugged" hadn't been able to give a clear picture of him, so he wouldn't get red flagged at the casinos.
Spike got five hundred Woolongs in chips and headed for a table that had only a few people that looked like they were just weekend players, not really the hardcore ones that played in the tournaments. He needed to pick up on anything anyone did. He needed to figure out how to find tells, things that gave away what kind of hand they had, and if they were bluffing or not. This would be a real test of mental awareness for Spike, which wasn't always a strong trait of his, but he wanted the eight million Woolong prize. And this was just a stepping-stone to getting there.
A/N: Okay, I know the romantic-Julia/Spike-type stuff has happened yet, but I'll be building up to it, I think. I don't know, I'm not too keen on writing a romance fic really. It's not in my blood. I am definitely going to try and the next chapter will include Julia, I promise. Since you've gotten this far down the page, please R&R. I enjoy constructive criticism as well as compliments. Almost anything to help me make this however much better will be greatly appreciated. Thanks!