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Blitzed
Part 1 – The Snitch
To the Bebop:
Two million woolong bounty – Giancomo Ferrante.
Last sighted in Citta del Vaticano. Wanted for the
attempted bombing of the Cappella Sistina. If you
want more information, meet me at the café on Via
Monterone, Rome.
F. Lorenzo
There were still parts of Earth that had not yet adopted the so-called universal language. It boggled Spike's mind. Why wouldn't you want to move on from old, broken ways? An ironic smile turned his lips slightly heavenward as he supposed that the new ways were probably just as broken. And yet, it continued to elude him – this stubborn hold onto the past. The past held nothing but pain. But that, he admitted, made him something of a hypocrite. He didn't often speak of life philosophies or religious inclinations – after all, what did the walking dead need of either? – however, when he did, the point was always achingly clear. Don't bother to remember or relive times that had passed. It didn't do any good for anybody. And most of the time, it hurt like hell. Yet, that was exactly what he didn't do. He didn't let the past go. Or perhaps it wasn't really his fault. It seemed more often than not, that as much as he tried to walk away, the more persistently it followed him.
He cast a dubious eye at his partner for the day. It was important to emphasize the time limit on their precarious alliance, because that was the only way he could be convinced to let her come along on this hunt. He watched her furtively for a few moments, but came to the realization that there was really no reason to be clandestine about it. She wasn't paying him any attention, too busy looking around in an unfamiliar wonder and awe. She was beautiful in a way, but worth more trouble than he was willing to knowingly get himself into. He had seen the way she grinned like a wolf when she had someone at the end of her gun. The wrong end, anyway. Not that she needed a gun; she was cunning enough to do well without it. She cast her glamour on unsuspecting men all the time with a sly wink or an inviting smile. But he knew the truth. Behind the façade of femme fatale, she was a scared little girl with nowhere to run. She was lost. Like him.
He smirked a little. Takes one to know one. Here she was, a little girl on a life raft floating in the middle of the sea, not knowing where to go to find water. And he…he was drowning. The smirk faded. He didn't like thinking of his past, despite the odd fact that his thoughts were perpetually returning there. It must be this old town, he mused. Rome had a tendency to do that to people. It was one of the few states on the planet that had not been completely devastated by the meteors. Of course, that could have something to do with its size, considering one meteor could wipe out the entire Vatican. But amidst the showers that annihilated most of civilization off the Earth's surface, Rome remained untouched. It was enough to make even him think twice.
A loud noise from behind caught both bounty hunters' attention. They turned and saw a woman whose grocery bag had apparently ripped under the weight of a couple dozen cans. She looked up at them and smiled apologetically as she bent to pick up her things. Her voice carried over the evening breeze with smooth and pleasant clarity.
"We don't understand you," Spike said slowly, as if she might understand. He hated feeling helpless. Looking to an unlikely source for help, he saw Faye's brow furrowed in concentration. Before he could give it any more than a cursory recognition, a male voice spoke with a musical lilt.
"She said that she is sorry to have ruined your romantic stroll through Rome. She says she knows how important privacy is to young couples, and that she is afraid she has ruined the mood," a stout, dark-haired man translated, a hint of mirth in his otherwise calm expression. His deep voice purred over the words in his charming, albeit thick Italian accent.
"Tell her she doesn't have to worry," Faye answered, a mischievous smile on her lips. "He ruined my mood a long time ago." She gestured nonchalantly to Spike. "I'm used to it by now."
Har har, Spike thought peevishly.
The man laughed heartily, tilting his head back. "Be that as it may, you are guests of Rome, and I insist that you have a wonderful time. Arrivederci, signor e signora," he gave a short nod, and carefully took the badly patched up grocery bag from the woman. "Sta bene, signorina?" She nodded and smiled gratefully. Spike and Faye watched as the two walked away into the quickly falling evening.
"Buona sera," Faye called out. The words tumbled out naturally. Spike raised a skeptical eyebrow, but said nothing. "Come on, cowboy. I'm not about to lose out on a two million woolong bounty just because you don't speak Italian."
"Like you do?" Spike shoved his hands into his pockets, and easily follwed Faye's quick pace in what seemed to be a random direction. "Do you even know where you're going?"
Faye gave him an impatient look. "Of course I do."
"Did you bring the directions Ed printed out?"
"I don't need them. I memorized them already. It's on the corner of…" she paused. Spike rolled his eyes. He pulled the com unit out of his pocket and pressed a few buttons. It beeped angrily in response. A second later, a redheaded girl's face was displayed on the small screen.
"Spike-person!" she cooed.
"Not now, Ed. I just need directions to the café," he said wearily. Talking to Ed always made him feel a hundred years old.
"Ok, Spike-person! Where are Spike-person and Faye-Faye now?"
Spike looked around and found the name of a tailor's shop. He could hear Ed typing furiously away on her computer even over the communicator. "Hurry it up, Ed. We don't have much daylight left."
"Ok, Spike-person. Right on Vicolo de Cupis. Left on Via de Pasquino. Left on Via del Teatro Valle. Right at the alleyway. The café is on the corner of Via Monterone," Ed sang. Spike closed the open line before Ed had a chance to continue, and stuffed the unit back into his pocket.
Faye was already half way down the street. "Well, what are you waiting for, fluffy? Let's go." Spike growled menacingly, but she remained dutifully unimpressed.
"I remember why I hate you."
She smiled sweetly at him. "I never forgot why I hate you."
The rest of the walk was made in silence. Not that it was that long of a walk. The city was small, and even the longest streets were nothing that a person in reasonable health couldn't do easily, but his mind wasn't on the walk. He was upset – she never failed to rile him up. Spike allowed himself an inward smile. He loved every moment of it. Before she came, he had almost forgotten what it was like to get so furious that it was all he could do not to punch the wall. She was good for him, he supposed. He couldn't very well be miserably melancholy and enraged at the same time. "This is it," she said quietly, successfully ending his train of thought.
Pleasant, soft sounds of dishes clinking and patrons talking wafted from inside the small café. Inside, trellises lined the walls, beautiful pink blossoms intertwined with each panel. A musty smell of wine and cheese filled the air; and the earthy tile and plain wood furniture lent the establishment an Old World feeling. It was almost as if he had stepped back in time. Coming from unseen speakers, an ancient opera played, the singer's deep voice undoubtedly wailing of heartbreaking tragedy or unspeakable sadness. God, it was depressing.
"It is Caruso," a man concealed in a black, hooded robe answered the unspoken question from his seat at one of the terrace tables. He chuckled at Spike and Faye's twin bewildered and suspicious expressions. "The opera that you are listening to. It is called Caruso."
"I didn't know anyone spoke the universal language so well in Rome," Faye murmured, more as a question than a statement. "I thought the Vatican demoted it to secondary language of the State."
"That is true, yes. However, in my line of business, it is also good to know the language of the people, not just of Rome," he replied, between sips of his dark coffee.
Spike's eyes narrowed. The man's mysterious behavior put him on edge. "And what kind of business is that?"
A pair of gloved hands lifted to pull back the hood, revealing an aging man with a kind face. And a white collar. "The Church is my business," he said with a toothy smile. "My name is Father Lorenzo."
F. Lorenzo. Father Lorenzo. "Holy shit, the snitch is a priest," Spike groaned. This couldn't be good.
Author's Foot Notes: I had published this fiction a couple of years ago under a different penname, but was unable to complete it at the time. As such, I thought it was a little rude to leave it up without any intention or ability to finish it, so I removed it from However, I've suddenly decided to revive and revise the story.
By the bye, the directions Edward gives to Spike to get to the Via Monterone are authentic. I don't know if there is an actual café there or not, but if you're ever in Rome, you can just take this fic with you to find your way. Look, a multi-purposed fanfic! Ok, I think that's all for now.