Bebop: Cowboy

Spike is staring at the ceiling, a cold cigarette dangling from his lip.

For a second, the world goes quiet. The jazz playing on the bar's ancient jukebox seems to slow down, the trumpet notes stretching into a long, mournful wail. Spike sees a flash of golden hair, a memory of a rainy street, the smell of gunpowder and roses. Then, the doors burst open. Syndicate thugs.

Spike sighs, the sound of a man who’s already lived through this day a thousand times. "Tijuana? It’s a dust bowl." Cowboy Bebop

"You’re not supposed to be here," Blue Note stammers, his fingers dancing over a holographic interface. "The past... it’s supposed to stay buried."

"The woman in the red dress," Blue Note whispers. "She’s still out there. In the data streams." Spike is staring at the ceiling, a cold

Faye looks at him, her eyes uncharacteristically gentle. "You look like you saw a ghost, Spike."

"There’s a bounty," Faye chirps, suddenly sitting up. "A small-time hacker named 'Blue Note.' 50,000 Woolongs. He’s hiding out in the ruins of Tijuana." Spike sees a flash of golden hair, a

"We’re out of beef," Jet grunts, not looking up. "And bell peppers. And fuel."