Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Cowboy Bebop: Rhythm & Blues ❯ Session #01 - Strangers in the Night ( Chapter 1 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Author's Notes: As you probably already knew, none of the characters belong to me. They are the property of Sunrise Inc, Bandai Entertainment, and probably a bunch of other people that I don't know about.

Auro ra City, Mars. 2073.

Quinn Brown lifted the burning cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply. Leaning back against the alleyway wall, he eyed the tall, dark skinned woman standing in front of him. His gaze trailed lustily along a pair of slender, coffee colored legs. A rather tight fitting black leather coat, belted at the waist, just barely covered her body, hanging down to the middle of her thighs as it hugged her lithe curves. The woman's rich black hair cascaded around large gold hoop earrings and down across her shoulder in a wealth of luxurious curls. Resting one hand on a well shaped hip, she tapped her foot impatiently as a frustrated scowl marking her gorgeous features.

"So, ya wanna know where to find Hakim, huh?" He asked.

"That's what I said." She replied, testily.

Quinn paused, taking one last drag of the cigarette before dropping it to the ground and crushing it with his foot. He had been many things in his young, but exciting life. A con man, a thug, a thief, a gigolo. But he wasn't a snitch. Well, not unless he could get something out of it. "Well Jasmine, tha's kinda hard ta say. He jes' broke outta prison, ya know. It'll prob'ly be a bit tough to guess where he might be headin'."

"Then why exactly am I wasting my time talking to you?" Jasmine asked, turning around to leave.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I never said I didn't know. But my memory seems to be a bit fuzzy right now..." Quinn grinned and stepped closer, draping an arm over her shoulder. "Why don't you stick around a bit and help me...remember..."

Jasmine smiled seductively and leaned forward, granting Quinn an ample view of her bared cleavage. "Mmm..." She moaned huskily, bringing her crimson red lips close to his. "...I think I know what you've got in mind..." Her knee suddenly rammed into Quinn's abdomen, driving the air from his lungs and causing him to double over in pain. Then her fist connected solidly with the side of his jaw, sending a splatter of blood and several teeth flying to the ground. Quinn staggered back against the wall, clutching his stomach and coughing up blood. Jasmine's leg quickly lashed out, and Quinn found himself pinned to the wall by a black high heeled shoe pressed firmly against his neck.

"One more time, Quinn." Jasmine said cooly. "Where can I find Abdul Hakim?"

"Gah! The Black Rabbit's Den..." Quinn choked out as he fought for breath. "Said he...needed...some quick cash..."

Jasmine pulled her foot from his throat, allowing Quinn to slump to the ground, gasping. The Black Rabbit's Den was a run down club on the other side of town that was a popular watering hole for some of Aurora City's less reputable inhabitants. Often filled with little more than drunks, street punks, and petty crooks, the ISSP paid the club scant attention. As she began walking away, Quinn, face red with anger, pulled a knife from his pocket.

"Thanks Quinn." Jasmine said, pausing at the mouth of the alley. "And oh, one more thing." She spun to the left as Quinn lunged, dodging a rather clumsy knife strike and grabbing his arm. "Just for future reference...." With a sharp twist of her hand, Quinn's wrist snapped like a twig. "...don't call me Jasmine." The knife fell from his limp hand as Quinn dropped to his knees, howling in pain.

"The name's Jazz."

The pungent aroma of cigarette smoke hung thick in the air of the club known as the Black Rabbit's Den. Waitresses in short, skimpy bunny outfits milled about among the tables, taking drink orders. On a stage in the front of the room, a black man strummed a vintage twentieth century acoustic guitar, playing a classic jazz melody. A few thin wisps of smoke swirled about the man's head as he nodded in time with the beat of the song, his hair, styled in a small afro, swaying slightly with the movement. The coattails of his light violet suit dangled below the seat of the wooden stool he perched on as his fingers deftly danced across the guitar strings. Once the song finished, the man swiftly stepped off the stage, a frown tugging at the edges of his broad lips, even as the last few chords died away amidst the dull chatter of the crowd.

"Here ya go, Rick." The bartender said, handing the man a glass of whiskey as he walked over to the bar on the other side of the club. "And here's this week's pay."

A barely audible grunt signaled Rick's appreciation. He tipped the glass back and downed the whiskey quickly, running a hand across his lips afterwards. Reaching out to pick up the stack of bills, he smiled slightly as he counted them. A few thousand woolong every week didn't make for a great paycheck, but it was more than he expected from a place like this. From the corner of his eye, Rick looked around the room, watching as the various criminals and lowlifes that infested the club scurried about their business. Just over a year ago, he wouldn't have been caught dead playing in a place like this. But that was back when John was alive, when they performed together in "the Shaft Brothers Band". After John's death, however, things went downhill. A rather lengthy string of bad luck left Rick stranded here on Mars with an extensive repair bill for his ship.

"You're not a bad guitar player, my man." Rick heard a quiet, yet gruff voice say. A tall and rather lanky man in a brown leather duster stood to Rick's right, hunched over the bar, nursing a drink. The overhead lights reflected a bit off the well tanned skin of the man's bald forehead, as a crooked smirk touched his lips. "Gotta respect a man who plays B.B. King."

"Thanks." Rick replied casually. "Gotta respect a man who recognizes it."

"Can't help but notice you picked up a little cash just now..." The man continued, causing Rick to eye him warily. "Relax. Just wondering if you'd like to join in on a quick game of poker." The man removed a deck of cards from his jacket, gesturing to an empty table. Rick considered it for a few moments. At the rate he was going, it would take a few years to earn enough money to fix his ship.

"Sure." Rick replied. "Deal me in."

An hour into the game, Richard Shaft was one extremely happy man. After he and Hank, the man who proposed the card game in the first place, found two more people to join in, the musician soon tripled his money. With the equivalent of three weeks pay in his pocket, he was that much closer to finally getting the hell off Mars. Yet another hour later, Richard Shaft was ready to slowly rip the hair from his head, strand by strand, until he was just as bald as Hank. Hank, on the other hand, just happened to have nearly all of the other players' money stacked in neat little piles by his arm.

"C'mon, Shaft." Hank said cooly. "You in or not?"

Shaft grunted undecidedly and looked down at his cards. He held a pair of kings and three aces in his hand. Unless one of the other players had a royal flush or something, he would almost surely win the next hand. Down to less than a fourth of the money he started with, at this point Rick just wanted to walk away from this thing breaking even, at the least. If he could just draw Hank into a rather large bet, he would probably come out alright. He hoped.

"I'll see your bet...." Shaft said, pushing all of his remaining woolong to the center of the table. "...and raise you this..." He then hesitantly tossed a gray plastic card onto the pile of money, watching Hank's reaction carefully. "...the keycard to my ship, the Armstrong. It's a Hephaestus-class freighter, complete with it's own monoboat, docked over at the spaceport right now." He saw no need to let them know that the ship wasn't exactly space worthy yet. He prayed that there wouldn't be a need to.

Hank merely smirked crookedly once again. "Interesting." He calmly pushed all of his own money out to meet Shaft's. "Well...whaddaya got?"

"Y, you first..." Shaft stammered. Betting his ship on this next hand suddenly seemed like a very, very bad idea. Shaft was so focused on the game that he didn't even notice the tall, rather striking young woman walk up behind Hank, holding a black pistol to the back of his head.

"Forgive me for interrupting your quaint little card game, Hakim..." She said softly, a triumphant smirk crossing her lips. "...but there's the matter of the three million woolong bounty on your head that I intend to collect..."

"What the hell?" Shaft blurted in surprise, drawing the young woman's attention.

"Well, well, well." If at all possible, the bounty hunter's smirk seemed to grow. "Fancy meeting you here, Shaft..." Shaft then found himself staring down the barrel of another, identical pistol. "This must be my lucky day."

The other poker players gathered what remained of their money and discreetly edged away from the table as Shaft swallowed nervously. "Do I...know you?" He asked nervously.

"Don't tell me you can't recognize someone after a simple hairstyle change..." The woman's eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. "Io. Not only did you cost me the bounty on Domino Walker, but you wrecked my car, too."

"J-Jazz Dupree??" Shaft stuttered.

"One and the same." She replied.

Shaft's gaze darted about cautiously. "I'm...uh...really sorry about, you know, running away after what happened on Io...but I, um..."

The rambling attempt at an apology ended suddenly as a bright flash of light temporarily blinded both Jazz and Shaft. While the pair frantically tried to protect their eyes, Hakim hurriedly swept what money remained on the table into a bag, and began running for the door.

"Dammit!!" Jazz cursed as her vision returned. "He had a flash grenade!" Quickly catching sight of Hakim, Jazz fired two shots in his direction, both of which missed as he raced out of the building.

For a few moments, Shaft stared blankly at the empty table, even as Jazz shot at the fleeing Hakim. "My keycard!" He shouted, suddenly standing bolt upright. "That bastard's got my keycard!!" Pulling a large silver revolver from his suit jacket, Shaft pursued the tall, lanky thief, following just behind Jazz.

Clutching the bag of money to his chest, Hakim paused as he dashed into the street to hail an oncoming taxi. The taxi pulled to a stop just as Jazz and Shaft burst through the door of the Black Rabbit's Den, barely giving Hakim enough time to boot the driver out of the cab with a swift, powerful kick from one of his long legs. Wasting little time, Jazz immediately ran over to a nearby sleek black convertible, landing in the driver's seat with a graceful leap. Shaft soon followed suit, dropping uncomfortably into the passenger's side as Jazz started the car.

"What the hell are you doing? Get out of my car!!" Jazz snapped.

"Han...I mean, Hak...whatever the hell that guy's name is, he has the keycard to my ship!" Shaft glanced up to see the speeding yellow cab swerve around a corner. "And he's getting away! Step on it, woman!"

Grumbling angrily, Jazz sped down the practically empty street, catching up with Hakim in moments. "So long as you're here, why don't you do something useful and shoot out his tires, Shaft?" She spat, keeping her eyes on the car ahead.

Leaning to the side, Shaft braced himself against the car door and hefted his gun, taking careful aim. He fired six shots, only to have each bullet miss it's target and ineffectively strike the ground just behind Hakim's car, leaving his weapon empty.

"Pathetic." Jazz murmured, stretching a hand over to tap a few keys on a computer terminal next to the steering wheel. The terminal beeped as the words 'voice link to on-ship computer established' flashed across the screen. "Nefertiti...engage auto-pilot."

"Engaged." A dry, computerized female voice answered.

"Trace my coordinates...interception plan thirteen-b." Jazz continued.

"Affirmative." The voice replied.

Shaft, meanwhile, doubled over in his seat, reaching down to grope at something strapped to the floor in hopes that he could use it to his advantage. He tugged at the mystery metal object, completely oblivious of the huge black spaceship that had come soaring over the car. With a grunt, Shaft pulled the object free, finding himself now in the possession of a rocket propelled grenade launcher. "All right!" He exclaimed, and, in a move not completely thought out, pointed the weapon in Hakim's direction.

Jazz watched as the Nefertiti flew past Hakim's car and quickly descended, blocking the entire street. But when Shaft's excited shout drew her attention, she glanced to her side to see him preparing to fire the grenade launcher she kept in her car for emergencies. "No!! Don't do that, you..." Her warning trailed off, however, as a single grenade streaked out of the launcher, leading a wispy trail of smoke.

Both occupants of the pursuing car watched in dread as the grenade flew through the air, above the small automobile in it's path, and collided with the Nefertiti. Jazz's ship rocked and wobbled as the initial explosion promptly set off a chain reaction, giving Hakim just enough space to squeeze his car past before the burning spaceship crashed into a building. With a shriek of rending metal, the Nefertiti collapsed into the street, forcing Jazz to skid to a stop as it continued to explode a few more times. The stunned bounty hunter climbed out of her car, staring in wide eyed shock. Shaft, still holding the grenade launcher, also stepped from the car.

"Uh...whoops..." He muttered weakly, moments before loosened rubble from the building above them slammed into the now empty car, destroying it.

Piles of random junk lay strewn about the floor, threatening to trip anyone who dared try and enter the garage. In the middle of the cluttered area a dark skinned teenager stood hunched over an old, battered truck. After wiping a grease stained hand on the end of his rumpled blue and white baseball jersey, the young man reached into one of the many pockets lining his baggy tan pants to retrieve another small piece of the truck's engine. A pair of earphones, connected to a radio which lay tucked away in the patch covered black vest the teenager wore over his jersey, sat atop the reversed blue baseball cap on his head.

"Ball three? What the hell is wrong with you, Calvin?" The boy murmured to himself. "That should'a been an easy out!"

"Hey, Miles!" A surly looking middle aged man called through the door of the workshop.

Miles, completely engrossed in his radio, ignored him. "Go for a triple play, ya morons!"

"Miles!!" The other man shouted, angrily stalking over to the boy.

"No, no, no! Triple play!! Triple play!!"

The older man slapped Miles in the back of the head. "Dammit, McGurk!!!"

"Ow! What was that for, Jameson?" Miles whined, rubbing his head and removing the earphones.

"If you don't stop wasting time with these stupid projects of yours and do some real work, I'm gonna put your ass out on the street!" Jameson shouted. "This is a garage, not your own private little workshop."

"I know, I know...sheesh, lighten up a little..." Miles frowned as Jameson walked away, continuing to grumble in anger. It was times like this Miles actually missed old man Doohan. Sure they both were bad tempered, crotchety jerks, but at least Doohan had no problems when Miles felt like tinkering around with the assorted broken down vehicles scattered around the hangar. Maybe he made a mistake in walking out on Doohan, Miles mused. Maybe, if he apologized, the old man might forgive him and decide to let him come back to work.

A sudden explosion rocked the garage, startling Miles out of his thoughts as he tripped and fell to the floor. There he lay as several smaller explosions followed the initial, surprising detonation. With a distinct lack of something many people would call common sense, the young mechanic quickly climbed to his feet and immediately rushed outside.

"Not only do I lose another bounty because of you, but you destroy over thirty billion woolong worth of my equipment..." Jazz shouted, her voice rising several octaves as she glared at Shaft . "...and all you have to say is WHOOPS!?"

"It was an accident!" Shaft retorted, defending himself. "That ship of yours got in the way!"

"Got in the way??" Jazz clenched her jaw tightly, fighting to keep herself calm. "I've been a bounty hunter for nine years now, and I have NEVER met anyone nearly as stupid as you."

"Wow, cool! Are you really a bounty hunter?" A teenage bystander unexpectedly spoke up, distracting both Shaft and Jazz from the swiftly approaching argument.

"Uh...yeah..." Jazz replied, blinking slightly at the seemingly random intrusion.

"Oh man, that is so awesome! I always thought the whole free-wheeling cowboy lifestyle was sweet, going where you want when you want and never having to answer to anybody at all, especially not some grouchy old coot of a boss and stuff." The teenager rambled. "Seriously thought about going into, ya know, 'the business' when I left Earth, but I decided against it. Though Miles McGurk, bounty hunter sounds pretty cool and all, I kinda got sidetracked when I started working on my monoracer..."

Halting Miles' rambling with a raised hand, Jazz arched her eyebrow in curiosity. "Slow down a sec, Speedy , you telling me you have a monoracer?"

"Yup!" Miles said proudly. "Built it myself with parts salvaged from a couple old military airplanes called Stealth Bom..."

"Don't need the history lesson, kid." A sly smirk slowly spread across Jazz's face. "Show me this racer of yours, and maybe I can still come out on top of the situation. You'll earn yourself a nice piece of the bounty for helping." Miles considered the request for about half a second before grinning boyishly and leading them both back to the garage.

"Who the hell are you people?" Jameson demanded as his employee walked a pair of strangers through the building. "Hey, that area's off limits! You two can't go back there!"

Shaft suddenly whirled on Jameson, knocking the older man unconscious with a well placed punch. "Figured he was gonna get in the way, not to mention on my nerves..." He said, shrugging at the questioning glances Jazz and Miles directed to him.

Punching a few numbers on a keypad, Miles, who didn't mind one bit seeing Jameson have his lights put out, opened the security gate protecting to his prized possession. "Here she is, fellas, the Raven." A sleek black craft lay before them, two powerful engines resting beneath each of the angled wings. The cockpit of the ship's sloped, diamond shaped body rose with a sharp hydraulic hiss, allowing a closer inspection.

"Nice." Jazz murmured in appreciation. "She flies, right?"

"Like a dream. Got her clocked at nearly 250 mph, once." Miles replied, smiling.

"Good. Get in so we can get moving." She said.

Shaft and Miles both reacted in shock. "What?" They asked, simultaneously.

"I don't know the controls and I don't have time to learn." She replied. "Hakim's getting away as we speak, so I need you to pilot this thing."

"But..." Miles muttered nervously.

"She's got a point." Shaft interrupted at seeing Miles' reluctance. "Besides, this could be your big chance to live those bounty hunter dreams of yours."

Jazz shot Shaft mildly appreciative look as Miles squared his shoulders and climbed into the monoracer. "Okay...where are we gonna find this Hakim person?"

'Last time we saw him, he was heading east." Jazz said as she and Shaft struggled to fit in the cramped cockpit. "The Aurora City Spaceport is in that direction, so it's probably the best place to look."

"Let's go before he tries to steal my ship..." Shaft grumbled under his breath, unconsciously emphasizing the word 'try'.

"You gotta help me out, man..." Hakim pleaded into a payphone at the side of the street. "I've got a couple bounty hunters after me, and the damned spaceport's closed for the night! C'mon, Judah...please..."

"Sorry Abdul, but you're a liability." A cold, gravelly voice replied moments before the line went dead.

"Judah? Judah!!" He raged, slamming the receiver down. "Damnit!"

Pausing to figure out his next move, Hakim turned to walk back to his stolen transportation when the loud roar of engines sliced through the still night air. He glanced up at the sky just in time to see a small, dark spacecraft zooming towards him.

"There he is!" Shaft shouted triumphantly.

"Bring us down, Miles!" Jazz barked as the ship banked to the side, landing smoothly on the otherwise empty street. Pistols in hand, she leapt from the cockpit as soon as the Raven came to rest, squeezing off several shots. Hakim barely dodged, diving behind the taxicab for safety before returning fire with a hastily produced Uzi. Jazz quickly sought protection from the monoracer, joining Shaft and Miles.

"Where'd he get his hands on that?" Shaft asked angrily.

"From the cab, probably." Miles said, wincing in fear and disappointment as he listened to the horde of bullets striking his beloved ship. "Taxi drivers keep themselves well armed, ya know."

"Okay boys, here's the plan..." Jazz began, calmly.

"Cover me, I'm going after him!" Shaft said, edging around the side of the of the ship.

Jazz had little time to react as Shaft darted out into the street. "What? Don't you...damn!" Fuming, she stood swiftly, drawing Hakim's attention with cover fire.

Shaft covered the short distance in seconds and succeeded in tackling a surprised Hakim to the ground. The Uzi flew from Hakim's hand as the two wrestled, only to be snatched up by a rather nervous Miles. After a few moments, they both sprang to their feet, slugging away at each other with fists and feet. Hakim struck first, lashing out with his lengthy limbs. Shaft painfully blocked the powerful attacks, ducking under a kick to deliver a series of punches to Hakim's body. The taller man staggered back, leaving himself open to a devastating uppercut that knocked him off his feet. He briefly struggled to stand again, only to find four weapons aimed at his head.

"Gotcha." Jazz smirked.

Escaped felon Abdul Hakim lay slumped against the side of the road, his arms and legs tied awaiting the arrival of local ISSP officers. Inside the taxi Hakim stole for his escape, Shaft rummaged frantically through the sack containing the "winnings" from their poker game earlier that night.

"Looking for something, Shaft?" Jazz called, holding up a slim gray plastic card.

Shaft's face brightened immediately. "My keycard, you found it!" It fell just as quickly when Jazz gently tucked the card down the front of her coat.

"Not your keycard, anymore." She smiled warmly. "Mine. Remember the little fiasco with the grenade launcher? You owe me, Shaft. Big time.

"But...the bounty on Hakim..." Shaft muttered weakly, his shoulders sagging.

"Isn't going to be nearly enough to pay off the damage you did to my property, and you know it." She snapped. "So until you repay every last woolong, I'm confiscating your ship as my new base of operations. You're welcome to come along, if you'd like."

"The ship doesn't even work right now!" He countered. "I've been stuck on Mars for the past three weeks trying to get it fixed!"

Jazz, completely undisturbed, merely turned to Miles. "Hey kid, you still looking to get in the bounty hunting business? My new ship sounds like a real piece of junk and I could use a decent mechanic."

'Really?" He asked, eyes wide. "You betcha! Oh, uh...sorry, Shaft." He shrugged meekly.

"What's it going to be, brother?" Jazz asked smoothly as the blaring ISSP sirens approached in the distance.

"Aw, damnit..." Shaft muttered, hanging his head with a sigh. "Okay, I'm in." Jazz said nothing, but the confident swagger of her hips as she walked over to wait for the officers spoke volumes. "What in the hell have I just gotten myself into?"

[That's Why They Call It The Blues...]

They say those who live by the gun shall die by the gun. For these people, the law of the land is an ancient, simple one. A coin for a coin. An eye for an eye. A life for a life. But when measured in bullets and blood, at what point does justice become cold hearted vengeance? And after it's all said and done, is there really even a difference?