I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

THANK YOU to my one and only reviewer:

Uisukii-in-your-sleep. I was wondering if anyone would ever read this. Thank you!

Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

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There was an air of holiday in the air. The entire town had closed early in honor of the Hodge City Poker Tournament. Shops were closed. People were hawking baked goods in the street. A band was playing. Confetti was flying into the air.

Some of the West's best would be here today. There would be Ace McIntyre, Billy Spade, Lenny Hart, Freddie Gerald - all the big name players.

All except Faye Valentine.

Tying Whisky to a hitching post and walking into the crowd, Spike had to grimace.

"I hate crowds. People act like jackasses when they get in large groups."

After the fifth person bumped into him, Spike headed for the Red Moon grumbling under his breath about inbred rednecks.

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"Five dollars, here's your slip, go down the hall, first door on the right."

A harried man in a white shirt and a maroon pinstriped vest was signing people up for the tournament.

Spike walked over, thinking to get signed up early and observe the competition.

"Name?" The harried man was impatiently tapping his paper with a pen.

"Spike Speigel." Spike's voice was low and his head tipped down so the brim of his hat covered his eyes.

"Five dollars, here's your slip, go down the hall, first door - Spike? Speigel?" The man looked up in disbelief, jaw agape.

"I heard you were dead! That some syndicate killer got you out in Chicora!" His face was now animated.

"Maybe he did friend, maybe I'm here and it's only a dream," Spike mused. Stuffing his hands in his pockets he walked out of sight down the hall.

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"Listen up and listen good girl. I am going to go in there and you are going to wait here with Marty. No funny business, got it?" Chet stood menacingly over Faye.

So Buffoon does have a name she mused to herself.

"Sure Chet baby, anything you say." Faye blew him a kiss and waved her bound hands.

Chet glared at her and stalked inside muttering about a certain purple-haired-insolent-bitch. He had a tournament to win and a bastard to get even with.

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Jet tossed back another shot nervously. Ed had delivered the message, but had neglected to get any reply from Spike. Now Jet was watching him chat quietly with the bartender. Their conversation seemed to be serious.

Faye Valentine was no where to be seen.

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"Bartender, a scotch on the rocks." Leaning on the bar and looking around, Spike lit a cigarette.

"Hey friend, do you get a lot of news in these parts?"

"We might, depending who was asking and what about." The bartender poured another drink.

"I'm looking for a man."

"Who about these parts isn't? You'll have to give me better than that, son. Call me Jim by the way." He raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"Ok, I'm looking for a vicious man." This barkeep caught the emphasis on the word. He stilled momentarily and then continued pouring.

"Only a man with a death wish would hunt a vicious man." He would not meet Spike's eyes.

"More like a man who needs to settle a debt. What do you know?" Spikes eyes had grown cold and predatory.

Jim "accidentally" spilled a glass. As he wiped it up, he whispered to Spike.

"Go to Greentown. He's in Greentown." Wiping up the mess, Jim walked to the other end of the bar.

Satisfied, Spike stood up and moved to the poker table. He lit another cigarette. They were getting ready to start.

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A bell rang much like one used to call the family to dinner. Men from around the room began to hand their tickets to the harried man in the vest. After they were all arranged around the table he cried out:

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN LET THE GAMES BEGIN!"

Still no Faye Valentine.

Jet was worried.

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Spike wiped sweat from his brow as the man on his left dealt the cards. The competition was steep. It was a group of gifted poker players and even with Spike's speed and skill at sleight of hand, they were tough to cheat. So far he was doing well, but barley.

Seeing Chet walk in had made his day. Spike was toying with him, bluffing till almost everything Chet had was bet, then folding on the hand. Knowing it was a personal vendetta that drove him Spike enjoyed his humiliation.

Finally the tournament was nearing the end. Few spectators were left. One man in particular kept drawing Spike's attention. He was a big man in all black with a rose colored shirt. He seemed to be paying special attention when it was Spike's turn. Keeping one corner of his mind focused on the man in black, Spike concentrated the rest on the hand.

There was only Spike, Chet, Ace and Frankie left. As far as Spike could tell, Ace and Frankie were playing straight. It was Spike's deal.

With a skill so finessed that no one could detect his moves, Spike dealt. He made sure that he had a winning hand and Chet a loosing one. Ace and Frankie would fall between them.

Spike looked at Frankie. His face remained impassive as he held up 2 fingers, laying 2 cards on the table revealing nothing to Spike about his hand.

Frankie was good.

Ace's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly as he asked for 3 cards. Spike knew Ace was out of luck.

Ace wasn't so good.

Chet was sweating profusely. His face was red. A vein bulged in his neck. He was scowling at his cards. He barked at Spike for 2 cards and continued scowling.

Chet wasn't good at all.

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Finally it was Chet and Spike left. Spike left because of talent and sneakiness, Chet was left because of Spike's desire to toy with him. There was a pile of bills, coins, chips and even a holster and a bedroll in front of Spike. In front of Chet were a few bills. Once more as luck would have it, Spike's deal.

As Spike dealt, he decided to mess with Chet a little.

"Hey Chet, how did you ever get loose from that table? I heard you and your pards had a hell of a time finding your clothes the next morning." Spike smirked and dealt the last card.

"Why you bastard, I'm gonna kill you for that -"


"Now now Chet, how do you expect to beat me if you aren't focused? How many?" His voice had started out teasing, but now was cold.

"One ," he gritted out through his teeth. Glaring daggers at Spike he picked up his card. The glare lessened as he looked, seeing that he had a full house. He's get that asshole, and get him good!

Spike finished dealing himself and grinned, inwardly maintaining a cool detached manner. He had a royal flush as he had planned, knowing Chet would get cocky thinking his full house would beat any hand of Spike's.

Letting his face fall just the slightest bit, Spike prepared to relieve Chet of everything he owned.

"Forty dollars," Spike started.

"Forty and raise ten." Chet threw a few coins into the pot.

"Everything." Spike pushed the whole pile in front of him to the middle of the table.

"Can you meet that or are ya gonna fold?" Spike sat back in his chair awaiting his next action.

"Well, not in money. I have something I'll trade you though," a spark came into Chet's eye as he remembered Faye outside.

"Marty! Bring in the girl!" Chet sat back in his chair as well.

Spike's jaw dropped as he saw the girl. Not only was she stunning, she was Faye Valentine in all her glory. She was swinging at Marty and hissing and spitting like a cougar. Spike actually pitied poor Marty. Restraining her had to take a lot out of a man.

Great, two birds with one stone! Spike was remembering the note from Jet Black. Not only would he win the Tournament but would get the reward for finding Faye too! The gods were smiling on him.

"Well, will she do to even the wager?" All thoughts of vengeance had fled. Chet was now reminiscent of a small child desperately trying to get his way.

"You poofy haired lunkhead! How dare you -"

Lewdly looking Faye up and down, Spike grinned.

"Yeah, I guess she will. She can wash my socks if nothing else." Spike smirked at Faye.

Faye glared daggers back. Their eyes locked; green and red sparks flew.

"Now lets see what you have."

In spite of the vicious sounds coming from Faye they showed their cards. Chet looked like he was going to have a coronary when he realized that he had lost.

"NNOOOO! How could you have beaten me? No one could have the perfect luck you have! No one!" Chet was crying and tearing at his hair. The women in the room felt sorry for him. The men felt disdain.

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Jet smiled. Spike had not only won the tournament; he had retrieved Faye Valentine with out bloodshed. Now he just had to sit back and wait for Spike to find him.

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Spike scooped up all his loot and deposited it into his saddlebags.

"Let's go Princess." Spike grabbed the rope that bound Faye's hands jerking so that she almost fell. Something about her attitude irked him, prodding him to behave ungentlemanly. Faye protesting all the way, Spike drug her out the door to Whisky's side.

Ignoring her protests and kicks, Spike tossed her onto his horses back like a sack of potatoes. He tied her into the saddle and proceeded to secure his saddlebags. He was getting more and more irked. He hated women with attitude and this woman had plenty of it. Finally he yelled at her.

"You will sit on this horse and you will shut the fuck up. DO YOU HEAR ME?" Spikes garnet eyes were blazing. He was getting pretty pissed.

"What right do you have to tell me to shut up? I'm my own person you fluffy headed imbecile!" Faye's eyes were blazing as well. Who did this cowboy think he was ordering the one and only Faye Valentine around like he was?

Spike had gone back to cool unruffled careless spike.

"Just remember one thing Princess." As he mounted up behind her, he couldn't help but notice how slim she was.

"What's that Cowboy?" Faye was pouting but realized that any man was better than Evil Chet and the Buffoon.

"Just remember Princess, I own you."