Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Lullaby for the Shattered Soul ❯ The Hidden Melody ( Chapter 6 )

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates, man, it's been a while! Hope you like this chappie, reviews are good.

~Disclaimer:~ I do not own Cowboy Bebop. If I did, a few choice blondes would be burning in the crimson flames of HELL!

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The Hidden Melody

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"Edward has found the treasure! Ed has found it, Captain Ein!!" Edward's goggles glowed with the light from Tomato (which she had reclaimed from Kirsche) as she ceased her furious typing, leaping up to grab the honey-colored dog and dance with him. Ein gave a disgruntled whine as Ed twirled him around, giggling.

Jet looked up from his own laptop, watching as Edward danced around with the dog, plainly oblivious of his presence. "What'd you find, Ed? A new bounty?"

Ed shook her head playfully; her wide amber eyes trained on the bearded man as she twirled around the room, mimicking the moves of a graceful ballerina with outlandish flare. "Nope no-o-o-ope! Ed knows why Kirsche-cherry is familiar."

The girl paused in her dance to point at the computer screen. "Ed has found Kirsche-person! Kirsche-person-piano-lady has her picture online, see?" She held up a hand to her chin thoughtfully. "Edward thinks that Kirsche-person's picture does not look like Kirsche-person."

Jet stood up and approached Tomato with curiosity while Edward dropped Ein to dance somewhere else. `What the-'

Immediately Jet froze, maximizing the window and staring in shock. He scanned the page quickly, than again. "So that's where I heard it before… Spike! Faye! You might want to check this out!"

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"Name: Kirsche McMae, a.k.a. `Three-Strikes-Mae'

Age: 24

Height: 5 feet 5 inches

Weight: 135 pounds

Hair/Eye Color: Original color unknown/Blue

Criminal Record: Over 40 accounts of murder, 12 accounts of Grand Larceny, and possession of deadly weapons.

Bounty (Dead or Alive): 29 million woolongs

Last seen: Chain 15, Ganymede

Other Info: A well know mercenary, McMae is known on the streets as Three-Strikes-Mae because her victims always go down with 3 bullets. She has a tattoo of a star on her left shoulder and a scar on her lower back. Thought to be responsible for the assassination of Mayor Jonathan Wimble of Europa and the thefts of a dangerous chemical prototype and an experimental explosive. All other information ISSP has withdrawn as `classified'."

Faye read the bounty posting aloud, her emerald eyes growing wide at the 29 million woolong bounty and the long list of offending crimes. There were several small pictures was posted along with the text, grim mug shots of the mulberry woman. Ed was right. The photographs looked nothing like the cherry on board their ship.

Some of the pictures the woman's hair was a bright blue color, others, a pale green. Her face was hidden by the thick curls, and all that showed were those ruby lips curled in a sadistic grin. But there was one photograph that stuck out in particular.

The woman in the picture looked like a wretched villain from a horror movie, crazed and bloodthirsty in a zombie-like condition completely void of any human emotions. The stranger in the photograph had long straw-colored tresses that hung everywhere, her curls were flattened and tangled, and her bangs were mussed and cast angry shadows over her face. Her sterling blue eyes were sunken in, with tired dark circles around them. Her face was twisted into a sinister smirk, half way between a snarl and a smug grin.

Spiked gaped at the page. The woman with Julia's face… was an assassin? It was definitely she; those endless eyes glared at him from the screen and bore into holes they had already made back on Callisto. "No way…"

"Where is Kirsche, anyways?" Jet asked, peering around.

"She told me she'd be in her room for a while, writing a song. Musicians are very private about that stuff," Faye shrugged, peering into Tomato's screen blankly and watching the words `Dead or Alive' blink in red under the woman's name. "I still can't believe she's a mercenary, and with an enormous bounty at that…"

"You two have been very chummy lately, and since when have musically inept people like you known anything about musicians, Faye?" Spike asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"I'm not musically inept and I've always known about musicians. Everyone knows how moody they can get when pouring their soul into a song. Don't you ever watch M.T.V.?" Faye sniffed indignantly. The corners of her mouth pulled into a grin. "Besides, anyone who can pummel you so brutally within the first few hours of knowing you deserves my companionship and utmost loyally."

Spike groaned at the memory, rubbing his head ruefully. God, no one thought to tell him it was Kirsche in the shower instead of Faye. Damn, Kirsche had a mean right hook… and a left… Wait, he remembered seeing the star tattoo on her arm that evening as she assaulted him. Kirsche McMae.

"So are we going to take her in?" Jet's question seemed to startle the group, and they turned to give him an unreadable look. Those 29 million woolongs were quite tempting.

"S' funny, I was wondering the same thing."

The mechanical `click' of a cocked gun hammer echoed dryly through the corridors of the Bebop, and Spike could feel the muzzle of a gun pressing lightly against his back. Russet eyes turned to meet sharp blue ones, Julia's eyes. The crew watched the mulberry woman smirk, holding the gun at arm's length. She wore a pair of blood spattered black jeans and the shirt Spike had given her, a borrowed cigarette (she had found a pack in the shirt's breast pocket) balancing on her lip.

"So, how much am I going for?" Kirsche asked neutrally, as if asking about something as trivial as the weather. Jet gave her a stern look, looming over the small woman.

"29 million," Jet told her, his eyes warily regarding the gun. Damn, that bitch was crafty! She had caught all of them off guard and unarmed, and though he could easily overpower her the gun in her hands kept the tables turned.

The mulberry woman tossed a lock of curls arrogantly over one shoulder, smirking insolently but keeping a steady gaze on the crew. "Is that all? Hmph. Figured I'd be worth more than that…"

Spike watched the mulberry woman intensely, meeting her eyes.

`Weird…' Kirsche thought to herself, holding his gaze. `I can't read anything from his eyes… it's sort of like he disconnected them from his mind so they show no emotion… I've never seen anything like it.'

"What do you want, McMae?" Faye asked, unable to keep the venom out of her voice. She had helped heal this girl, for Christ's sake! And suddenly she pulls out a gun and threatens all of them? Some people had no gratitude whatsoever.

The cheerful innocence that had surrounded the pianist like an aura had dissipated, and her sterling blue eyes were filled with cold malice. The child-like compassion that once made her so approachable and appealing was gone. Her sultry voice had become harsh and grating as it mumbled around the cigarette, the mulberry woman was a completely different person.

"C'mon, Spike. Out to the hangar. We have business to attend to."

Spike froze, staring down the muzzle of her pistol fearlessly, a look of confusion crossing his face. `Julia, why are you doing this to me?' he asked Julia's face silently. But it was not Julia's face that smirked up at him.

Jet leaned forward and made as if to grab Kirsche, but she immediately danced out of the way with an animalistic grace, reaching behind her and bringing out a second gun that had been thrust into the back of her jeans. She held it in her free hand, wrapping her slender fingers around the trigger and stopping the burly man in his tracks. Her smirk faded and her eyes narrowed in grave seriousness.

"Not you. I don't want to hurt you if I don't have to. I was sent for Spike, that's it."

"Really, by who?" Jet growled, clenching and unclenching his prosthetic fist as he set his jaw in anger.

"It's none of your business," she spat hotly. "Look, I appreciate your hospitality and everything, but I have a job to do."

Spike turned his gaze away from the mulberry woman to meet eyes with Faye. Despite the obvious indignant look on her face, he saw a carefully hidden pang of concern. Silently, their eyes held a conversation.

`You dip-shit.'

`What?!'

`You're going to go, right?'

`Yes...'

`Fine. Then go. Just come back alive, lunkhead. Or I'll pawn off the `Fish.'

`You do and I haunt you until all Hell freezes over. Shrew.'

`Jackass.'

`Yeah, I know, I know.'

`Good.'

Kirsche read the silent exchange, nodding in calm understanding though holding both guns unwaveringly and tightening her grip on the triggers. Spike thrust his hands into his pockets casually as he stepped forward, coming up beside the mulberry woman. His eyes flashed for a moment, and she thought she saw in them a look of sadness, though his expression was one of cool and mild amusement. "Lets go, then."

It was a silent and agonizingly long march to the hanger, the pair's footfalls clanging boisterously loud as their boots slapped against the floor of the Bebop. The footsteps reverberated in the dead silence. Jet made an attempt to follow them as Kirsche led Spike out the doors, but Faye stopped him, shaking her head.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Jet growled, jerking his arm away from her grasp. "You're not going to just let him duke it out with her, are you?!"

"The moron has to handle this one on his own, Jet. No interfering." For a moment, Faye looked almost wise, that is until she added, "Besides, there's no way he can screw up on this one. Dead or Alive, remember?"

Well, that didn't last long.

Jet sighed, sitting tensely at the edge of the old, discolored couch, muscles taught and ready to leap to Spike's aid if suddenly needed. "So, what do you propose we do?"

"We wait."