Cowboy Bebop
Boys are Back
3
Faye Valentine sighed, and tapped her cigarette against the rim of the ashtray, sending a puff of black ash to tumble into it. She traced her finger over the rim of her glass, looking at her reflection in the rust colored substance it contained. She could not have been more bored.
It had been almost four months since the last time she had worked with Jet. They had parted company without even so much as a goodbye, or even a "see you later." It had been three days since she had caught her last bounty herself, a small one at that, and the Redtail was still in the shop for repairs. In the meantime, she entertained herself by drinking and smoking away what money she had, while dodging debt collectors, and managing to wrangle a few days in a seedy hotel room from an overweight, under-bathed clerk who she had made small promises too.none of which she intended to keep.
She was hardly aware of the loud music blaring, or of the writhing bodies that surrounded her. For some reason, she was able to channel all of that out. Right now, her thoughts drifted. She thought of her past most usually, of old dreams, old hopes, and old heartbreaks.
She sighed, and took another sip of her drink. It had been almost a year and a half since Spike was gone, and truthfully, she missed him greatly. He had been one of the few people in the universe that she had really called a friend. And, as much as she hated to admit, she had had something of a schoolgirl crush on him. The few moments they had shared that could be considered intimate had been brief.but for her, they now seemed to last a lifetime.
She took another drag of her cigarette. All around her, people danced as if there were no tomorrow.
He stopped for a moment, and took a deep breath. She had been here, he could tell. Everywhere, her tasted her, smelled her, felt her. She was distinctive, not another like her. It was like a sixth sense; he could feel her presence, when he was close enough. There was, somewhere deep within him, a part of her, that he was sure would lead him to her.
Faye.the name seemed to echo in his mind. It haunted him. It was like a mystical drumbeat that would boom boom inside someone's consciousness forever.
How could the other have been so foolish? How could the other have gone chasing after the memories of the past when she was right there in front of him? She was alive, energetic, and full of vitality. She had tasted him, and wanted to be in his arms. She had begged him to stay with her, to not leave her, and he had gone anyway. What kind of hopeless idealist could have turned up such a chance?
He closed his eyes, and smiled with satisfaction as he realized that he would not be so foolish, so idealistic. He would find her. He would stay with her, like the other had not. He would hold her in his arms, and never let go till he had crushed the life out of her. He would take every aspect of her that had once been part of the other, and make it part of him.
And then, ah then.then, they would always be together.
He opened his eyes, and his mind. She was near, he could feel it. Just a few more steps.
He looked up. A neon sign at the entrance of a dance club blinked overhead. She was in there. He knew it. He felt her in the air.
She was distinctive. There was not another like her.
Ed blinked through the pain that was filling her body, much like the bruises that covered her flesh. She looked down at the handcuffs that she was shackled to the chair with. For a moment, she almost considered trying to gnaw her own hands off to be free of them at last. Ein was faring no better, the chain around his neck would constrict each time he tried to get away, and would almost strangle him till Ed begged him to stop trying.
"Need a hand?" a deep, but soft and familiar voice spoke. She looked up, and felt her heart leap into her throat.
"Ein! Lookie! Its."
"Shh" he hissed, holding a finger up to his lips. "Don't say anything. He might still be around. Just hold real still, and I'll have you out of there in a second." He leveled his gun at the locking mechanism on the hatch, and emptied his rounds onto it. Before any kind of friendly banter could be shared, he looked Ed dead in the eyes. "Where did he go Ed? Where is he?"
Faye threw her head back, and downed what was left of her drink. She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray, and then fumbled in her pocket for a few woolongs to leave as a tip. Her senses were deadened by alcohol, her hearing blocked by the loudness of the music. She could not detect what was coming in any way.
She stood to leave, and felt herself walk into a brick wall. At least, it felt as if she had walked into a brick wall. Whoever shoved her back into the chair was solid and hard, but she was not in the mood for any hassling.
"Hey jerk, you ought to." her voice died in her throat when she looked up at him. For a moment, she felt a lump lodge itself in her throat as she tried to speak. All she managed was a weak, faint whisper. "Spike."
No, it wasn't Spike. The nose, the chin, the lips, those were all right. But the hair was a different color, and his eyes were completely different. No, there was something too dark about him, too sinister, too.
When he heard her call him by that name, a wicked grin spread across his face, going so far that Faye almost thought it would go all the way around his head. His hand disappeared into the trench coat he was wearing, and emerged with a gun, exactly like Spike's.
Her eyes centered on that gun. In a movement that only took a few moments, but that seemed to go so slow it took an eternity, he leveled it at her, taking dead aim, right at the center of her forehead.
In a flash, she grabbed the ashtray and tossed its contents into his face. He shouted and stumbled back, his hand tightening in a reflex, causing his gun to discharge into the air. Someone screamed. Then a lot of people screamed. As the people filling the dance floor and bar became aware of what was starting to happen, they fled as fast as they could.
Faye was hoping to join them, when she felt a hand, as strong and tight as a vice, clamp down on her throat. He kneed her in the stomach, and then drew her face close to his.
"I know you, Faye!" he said, his voice a deep and powerful, but with a sharp metallic rasp to it as well. "I know you! I know how good Spike made you feel." He leaned in close to her, and whispered softly, "Touch me.the way that you touched him.taste me!" His other hand came up, and punched her hard across the face, sending her tumbling to the floor. "And I know how bad he hurt you in the end! I'd die to be the same to you.in fact, part of me did already!"
She lay at his feet, stunned by the blow. As she struggled to regain herself, she heard the sound of a gun cock. She ground her teeth, and waited for it. The sound of a gun firing rang in her ears.
But she was not dead. She opened her eyes. His gun was lying on the floor in front of her.
"That's enough, 801" a voice as powerful as thunder, but as familiar as her own reflection barked from the other side of the room.
Faye raised her eyes. Her jaw dropped open, her blood ran cold. Silhouetted in the doorway, wearing a brown trench coat, a cigarette clenched in his teeth, a gun in his hand, stood a ghost. Without even realizing it, she spoke his name.
"Spike."
Cowboy is back!
Faye Valentine sighed, and tapped her cigarette against the rim of the ashtray, sending a puff of black ash to tumble into it. She traced her finger over the rim of her glass, looking at her reflection in the rust colored substance it contained. She could not have been more bored.
It had been almost four months since the last time she had worked with Jet. They had parted company without even so much as a goodbye, or even a "see you later." It had been three days since she had caught her last bounty herself, a small one at that, and the Redtail was still in the shop for repairs. In the meantime, she entertained herself by drinking and smoking away what money she had, while dodging debt collectors, and managing to wrangle a few days in a seedy hotel room from an overweight, under-bathed clerk who she had made small promises too.none of which she intended to keep.
She was hardly aware of the loud music blaring, or of the writhing bodies that surrounded her. For some reason, she was able to channel all of that out. Right now, her thoughts drifted. She thought of her past most usually, of old dreams, old hopes, and old heartbreaks.
She sighed, and took another sip of her drink. It had been almost a year and a half since Spike was gone, and truthfully, she missed him greatly. He had been one of the few people in the universe that she had really called a friend. And, as much as she hated to admit, she had had something of a schoolgirl crush on him. The few moments they had shared that could be considered intimate had been brief.but for her, they now seemed to last a lifetime.
She took another drag of her cigarette. All around her, people danced as if there were no tomorrow.
He stopped for a moment, and took a deep breath. She had been here, he could tell. Everywhere, her tasted her, smelled her, felt her. She was distinctive, not another like her. It was like a sixth sense; he could feel her presence, when he was close enough. There was, somewhere deep within him, a part of her, that he was sure would lead him to her.
Faye.the name seemed to echo in his mind. It haunted him. It was like a mystical drumbeat that would boom boom inside someone's consciousness forever.
How could the other have been so foolish? How could the other have gone chasing after the memories of the past when she was right there in front of him? She was alive, energetic, and full of vitality. She had tasted him, and wanted to be in his arms. She had begged him to stay with her, to not leave her, and he had gone anyway. What kind of hopeless idealist could have turned up such a chance?
He closed his eyes, and smiled with satisfaction as he realized that he would not be so foolish, so idealistic. He would find her. He would stay with her, like the other had not. He would hold her in his arms, and never let go till he had crushed the life out of her. He would take every aspect of her that had once been part of the other, and make it part of him.
And then, ah then.then, they would always be together.
He opened his eyes, and his mind. She was near, he could feel it. Just a few more steps.
He looked up. A neon sign at the entrance of a dance club blinked overhead. She was in there. He knew it. He felt her in the air.
She was distinctive. There was not another like her.
Ed blinked through the pain that was filling her body, much like the bruises that covered her flesh. She looked down at the handcuffs that she was shackled to the chair with. For a moment, she almost considered trying to gnaw her own hands off to be free of them at last. Ein was faring no better, the chain around his neck would constrict each time he tried to get away, and would almost strangle him till Ed begged him to stop trying.
"Need a hand?" a deep, but soft and familiar voice spoke. She looked up, and felt her heart leap into her throat.
"Ein! Lookie! Its."
"Shh" he hissed, holding a finger up to his lips. "Don't say anything. He might still be around. Just hold real still, and I'll have you out of there in a second." He leveled his gun at the locking mechanism on the hatch, and emptied his rounds onto it. Before any kind of friendly banter could be shared, he looked Ed dead in the eyes. "Where did he go Ed? Where is he?"
Faye threw her head back, and downed what was left of her drink. She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray, and then fumbled in her pocket for a few woolongs to leave as a tip. Her senses were deadened by alcohol, her hearing blocked by the loudness of the music. She could not detect what was coming in any way.
She stood to leave, and felt herself walk into a brick wall. At least, it felt as if she had walked into a brick wall. Whoever shoved her back into the chair was solid and hard, but she was not in the mood for any hassling.
"Hey jerk, you ought to." her voice died in her throat when she looked up at him. For a moment, she felt a lump lodge itself in her throat as she tried to speak. All she managed was a weak, faint whisper. "Spike."
No, it wasn't Spike. The nose, the chin, the lips, those were all right. But the hair was a different color, and his eyes were completely different. No, there was something too dark about him, too sinister, too.
When he heard her call him by that name, a wicked grin spread across his face, going so far that Faye almost thought it would go all the way around his head. His hand disappeared into the trench coat he was wearing, and emerged with a gun, exactly like Spike's.
Her eyes centered on that gun. In a movement that only took a few moments, but that seemed to go so slow it took an eternity, he leveled it at her, taking dead aim, right at the center of her forehead.
In a flash, she grabbed the ashtray and tossed its contents into his face. He shouted and stumbled back, his hand tightening in a reflex, causing his gun to discharge into the air. Someone screamed. Then a lot of people screamed. As the people filling the dance floor and bar became aware of what was starting to happen, they fled as fast as they could.
Faye was hoping to join them, when she felt a hand, as strong and tight as a vice, clamp down on her throat. He kneed her in the stomach, and then drew her face close to his.
"I know you, Faye!" he said, his voice a deep and powerful, but with a sharp metallic rasp to it as well. "I know you! I know how good Spike made you feel." He leaned in close to her, and whispered softly, "Touch me.the way that you touched him.taste me!" His other hand came up, and punched her hard across the face, sending her tumbling to the floor. "And I know how bad he hurt you in the end! I'd die to be the same to you.in fact, part of me did already!"
She lay at his feet, stunned by the blow. As she struggled to regain herself, she heard the sound of a gun cock. She ground her teeth, and waited for it. The sound of a gun firing rang in her ears.
But she was not dead. She opened her eyes. His gun was lying on the floor in front of her.
"That's enough, 801" a voice as powerful as thunder, but as familiar as her own reflection barked from the other side of the room.
Faye raised her eyes. Her jaw dropped open, her blood ran cold. Silhouetted in the doorway, wearing a brown trench coat, a cigarette clenched in his teeth, a gun in his hand, stood a ghost. Without even realizing it, she spoke his name.
"Spike."
Cowboy is back!