So, first off, apologies on the slightly late update. I was at Supercon this weekend and spent most of today in a car driving home without interwebs...but here's the next chapter!

Also, when I originally started this story, it was all from Leon's perspective. Then, as I got farther into it, I began to see some of the scenes from other characters' perspectives, so from here on out, there are a few chapters with new perspectives. Hope you enjoy!

Session Sixteen

Villanova leaned back in her chair and scowled at the paperwork sitting on her desk. Running a Syndicate took more attention than she cared to admit and she found she didn't envy Mao Yenrai the job. Too bad the old man was rotting in a grave. They could use someone with his organizational skills. And all due to that stupid Spike Spiegel. Nevermind that it was Vicious who killed Yenrai. While crazy as hell, Vicious at least had the drive to turn the Syndicate into the iron fist it was meant to be. If Yenrai had just listened to Vicious he wouldn't be dead. The Syndicate wouldn't have gone soft. Spike Spiegel wouldn't have been able to bust in here and kill them all.

It'd been fifteen years. Fifteen long, hard years of scrounging the streets for hard men, cold guns, and quick money. Looking back on it all, Villanova was proud of herself. When she'd come in from the field to find the tower in ruins, she didn't run like a dog with its tail between its legs. She grabbed the sinking Syndicate by its bootstraps and hauled it back from the brink of destruction. And now she had herself an army, a drug trade, and a personal suite at the top of the newly rebuilt Red Dragon tower. She had herself a Syndicate.

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. She arranged the papers on her desk into a suitably neat and inconspicuous pile, making sure that names, accounts, and balances were hidden. She took her time arranging the desk. After a nosy Syndicate member made the mistake of getting himself shot for knocking twice, nobody else had tried the stunt. Villanova liked the fear of absolute power she'd spread amongst her underlings.

"Come in," she invited once her desk was clean.

The door opened and her personal guard ushered a disgruntled Draugh into the room. He still looked like he'd fought a losing battle with a giant cactus. Villanova hardly bothered disguising the sneer that tugged at the corner of her mouth. Draugh had a myriad of still-fading scars on his face and hands from "the incident" as he'd come to refer to it. She noticed he'd gotten a new suit though, one not as shredded as his face.

"Any progress?" she asked.

Draugh gave her a baleful glare.

"I gave you one task, Draugh." She propped her boots up on her desk and gestured at the seat across from her. "One boy can't be this difficult."

Draugh took a seat. "This is the son of Spiegel, you know."

"Yes, yes," Villanova waved a hand. "And all that entails, I know."

"And he's not alone."

"As you discovered when you neglected to search the island," Villanova pointed out. "You're growing complacent in your old age, Draugh."

Draugh glared at her from hooded eyes. Villanova smiled, showing teeth. She was well-versed in the power struggle between herself and Draugh. He felt that he should have been in control of the newly arisen Syndicate, but Villanova wasn't letting him have it. He may've been the oldest surviving Dragon, but she was the one who took the time to rebuild. She was the one who sought him out. She was the one who hired the men. She was the one who capitalized on Dragon's Eye. Draugh was good for nothing more than smooth talking and being her right-hand man. Much as she hated to work with him sometimes, she also knew that he was loyal to the Syndicate above all else and as long as she presented a strong Syndicate, he would follow, even if he chafed at the leash.

"Complacency and subtlety are two different things," Draugh said, never breaking his composure.

"And how, might I ask, was anything at the temple subtle?"

"I offered him a place in the Dragon instead of blowing his head off."

"Draugh, you know I don't want him dead. Yet."

"You're wasting a potential asset, Miriatha."

"The boy won't join us. He told you as much himself."

"He could still be convinced."

Villanova shook her head. "No. He can't. He won't. It's not in his blood."

Draugh tilted his head. "His blood runs Dragon."

"Mmmm," Villanova nodded. "It does. But Spike left because he truly believed that the Syndicate was wrong. After the veneer washed away, Spike was done with us. He was never after the power. He just thrived on the adrenaline. And when the adrenaline wore off, Spike saw through it all. Spike was only Syndicate because he was raised Syndicate. Because Mao Yenrai painted a nice picture for a lonely child and convinced the boy to stay. If Spike's son shares half the morals his father had, he won't touch the Syndicate with a 50 foot pole."

"People can be persuaded, you know."

"He won't be inclined to listen to us after he's been taught to hate us by the ones who loved his father."

"Bebop," Draugh snarled.

"Exactly. If I believed in a god, I'd say he's working against us. Not only does that ragtag crew still exist, but they lifted our prize right out from under our noses. Luckily I don't believe in gods, just coincidence. And you can cut coincidence with a knife."

"Should I add the rest of the Bebop crew to our target list now?"

"No. Once we catch the boy, they'll come running all on their own," Villanova licked her lips. "I want this victory to sting. Which means they need to live and you are running out of time. We only have a few days left."

"As I'm well aware," Draugh said. "But we couldn't have accounted for the Bebop disappearing for almost a month."

"You still haven't located that junk heap?"

"She was spotted over Tharsis a day or two ago. I've got men on the streets looking for her. I believe they may be about to make their move and then, we make ours."

"I want every man available out looking for that ship. Understood?" Villanova took her boots off the table and sat up straight. "We can't get Spiegel's boy until we know where he's hiding."

Draugh nodded.

"Now, I'm sure you didn't come here just to tell me you haven't found the Bebop yet. What have you got for me?"

Draugh narrowed his eyes but refrained from a comeback. Instead he cleared his throat. "This may be nothing, but Andross has been delayed. We received a short transmission from his truck as it left the Dark Gate, but nothing in it was intelligible."

"Delayed?" Villanova arched one thin eyebrow. "Until when?"

"That's just it. We don't know. He hasn't answered any of our attempts at contact."

"Are you telling me that not only have you lost Spiegel's boy - twice - but you've lost our chemist now too?" Villanova's tone was low, dangerous.

"I am not responsible for Andross. He's a grown man, dammit. I'm not babysitting him to make sure he gets here safely."

"Did you give him an escort?"

"Of course not. We never have before. Besides, he was using the Dark Gates. Why would he need an escort?"

"I don't know, Draugh." Villanova put her head in her hand. "You tell me. Why would you put an escort on the biggest shipment of Dragon's Eye to cross the galaxy? Do you know how much was riding on that truck?"

"Yes," Draugh said through clenched teeth. "You act like you're the only competent one in this Syndicate, Miriatha, but I know perfectly well what was riding on that truck. And I intend to find it, one way or another. It can't be that -"

A beep from the phone on Villanova's desk interrupted Draugh.

They both stared daggers at the phone. Villanova pressed a button to answer. "Yes? What is it?"

"There's a man radioing in, ma'am," the head of her guard said. Villanova sighed.

"What of it, Captain? Men radio in all the time. Why is this important?"

"He's asking for you."

"Tell him I'm busy."

"He says this is about the missing truck, ma'am."

Villanova and Draugh shared a long look.

"Put him through."

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a crackle on the phone line for a moment, then static. A male voice came through the static, understandable, but electronically distorted. "Villanova?"

"Who is this?" Villanova demanded.

"A friend."

"I don't have friends," she quipped.

"A beneficial acquaintance, then. I've got your truck."

"And my chemist, I assume?"

"Yes. I'm willing to return them. For a price."

"Of course you are." Villanova grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. She tapped the end of the pen on the desk. "For how much?"

"I'll tell you when we meet. Come prepared to pay, but I'm up for negotiation."

"Generous, aren't you?" Villanova tossed the pen down.

"I haven't killed your chemist yet," the voice said. "I think that's pretty generous."

"I can find a new chemist."

"I'm sure you can. If you don't want to keep this one, I can dispose of him."

"No!" Draugh interrupted.

Villanova scowled at him.

There was a chuckle on the other end. "So, he is valuable. Don't worry. He's unharmed."

Villanova ground her teeth in frustration. "Keep him that way and there'll be a bonus in it for you," she snarled.

"Oh goody."

"Where do I find you?" Villanova asked.

"Noon, tomorrow. At The Ares."

"No ominous 'come alone?'" Villanova asked conversationally.

There was a burst of static on the other side. Then, "No. I'll have a lady friend. You may bring an escort."

Villanova didn't respond to the subtle insult. "Any other instructions?"

"No."

"Until noon. At The Ares." Villanova smiled wolfishly.

"At The Ares," the voice agreed and the call disconnected.

Faye found herself alone on the deck of the Bebop for a smoke. She still couldn't believe Leon called her a "lady friend." She rolled her eyes. The kid thought he was so suave, baiting the Dragon like this. And while the lure of the casino was appealing, Faye felt her stomach turn at the whole idea of going face to face with Red Dragon leaders. If the pier was any indication, they were playing for keeps and just as likely to cheat as she was. She blew out a huff of smoke and frowned, letting her eyes wander the warehouse they were hiding in. They automatically settled on the only thing in the warehouse other than the Bebop. The stolen Dragon truck. Her curiosity piqued. Faye looked over her shoulder. No one else was around. She hopped off the Bebop and headed for the truck. She tried the door. It was unlocked. With one last glance over her shoulder, she opened the door and climbed inside.

She sat back, looking at the console with her arms crossed. Why did her friends have to be so obstinate? She'd thought that giving Leon Spike's gun would win her a little favor in the young cowboy's eyes, but apparently not. He still wanted to go through with his fool plan and here she was agreeing to help. She scowled. She didn't like the idea of trying to take on the Dragon. Sure, it brought up painful memories of Spike, but she didn't want the kid to go get himself killed either. If there was just some way to prove to him that that chasing the Dragon wasn't worth it.

A small blinking light on the truck's dash caught Faye's eye. The radio. She sat up straighter. That radio was a direct link to the Red Dragon. She shivered, the sudden weight of what she could do with this newfound connection weighing heavily on her. What if?

Unconsciously, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a poker chip. She'd found it under the dresser when she cleaned out Spike's room and she'd taken to carrying it around with her. It's faded faces and scuffed edges attested to the many times Spike must've handled it - probably flicking it through the air. Watching it spin and jitter to a stop. It had a crown side and a blank side, although the crown was partially rubbed off. After finding it, Faye had remembered catching Spike with a poker chip once or twice during his time on the Bebop. He always seemed to stare at it, spinning in circles, end over end, like it would answer all his questions. But he'd put it away with that boyish grin any time she saw him with it, and dismissed it when she'd asked about it.

Faye flipped the little plastic chip between her fingers. Crown side? Or blank? What had the two sides meant to Spike?

She watched the radio light blip in time with the tumbling chip. Across her knuckles, end over end, back and forth.

What if she contacted the Dragon? Her stomach somersaulted at the idea. But if she called the Dragon and warned them of this harebrained scheme, then maybe Jet and Leon would finally get the idea that this plan was too dangerous to follow through with. If she gave the Dragon a hint so that they were prepared for the situation, maybe she could call off the entire mission and convince Jet and Leon to go back to hunting normal bountyheads. After all, Spike hid from the Dragon for years. Couldn't Leon do the same?

The poker chip tumbled faster through her fingers. Crown. Blank. Crown. Blank.

She bit her lip. If anyone found out about what she was about to do, they'd be furious. They'd think she betrayed the crew. But no one needed to know, right? Just a quick radio call to the Dragon, and all her problems were solved. Jet and Leon might be crazy, but she was sure they'd back out if they saw how far in over their heads they were.

She let the poker chip fall. It clattered onto the console and spun on its edge, wavering for a few moments before tipping over and lying still. Crown side up. Victory, right?

Faye took a deep breath and pressed the com button.

I want to make sure I give credit where credit is due. The above scene is inspired by Shadowcrest Nightingale's Cowboy Bebop stories, Dragons of the Darkwave Pt 1 and Pt 2. In Dragons, Spike often plays with a poker chip when making decisions and I thought it a nice tie-in to have something similar happen here...and a nice memento of Spike for Faye to hold on to. In Shadow's stories, when Spike flips the chip, he goes with his idea if the side comes up blank, and Vicious' idea if the crown side comes up. Here Faye believes that she's given a sign of success and victory with the crown side...

As Shadowcrest pointed out in a review, the original poker chip Spike has in Dragons gets destroyed, but I'm imagining he kept the habit later in life and carried a new chip on the Bebop (perhaps as a reminder or warning of the past). This would be the chip Faye has in my story.