By Zaybach1

(In memory of William Dean Dettle.

The greatest Space Cowboy in the solar system!)

Age: 23

Weight: 140 lbs.

Height: 5ft.4

Wanted for: Data theft, weapons programming and smuggling.

Details: Puck is wanted on Telesto for Data theft. Originally a Technological designer for a notorious gang called The Council of Wizards, he created specialized weapon Programs and computers. Then, one day he disappeared after using nearly all the

wizard’s resources, (a.k.a. money.) to created his own program and stole their computers as well, and has been selling the illegal technology to underground buyers.

Reward/Bounty: 10 million woulong

Location: Bills Insane Electronic O’Rama!

Current Information: Puck will be making an exchange/deal behind the alley of the store.

In his ear, the headpiece COM crackled with life as the connection with his fellow comrades blitzed.

"Remember Oberon, it is the Recorder that is important. Puck is and must be expendable." Merlin- one of his fellow comrades- informed him quietly though the COM.

"Understood." Was all he said back, and he reached up under the hood, his long leathered fingers clicking the ear COM off.

Oberon’s hand paused then fluttered back down from the COM to lay flat out onto the flat top of the briefcase lightly, his fingers fluttering and caressing the case as light as a doves wings.

"Shhhh." His soft and smooth voice whispered, cutting through the quiet car. Next to him the back door was opened and he turned his head to peer out for a moment at one of his ‘Associates’- a man named Silver dressed in a black suite and tie with dark sunglasses, was holding onto the doorknob of the car door. He watched a moment before slowly climbing out, his boots quietly setting down on the cement and he ducked as he ducked as he climbed out of the car, his right hand clutching the briefcase.

Oberon straightened up for a moment and didn’t even blink an expression when the trunk of the car slammed shut and Silver and another associates clicked the ammunition into their guns from the hidden compartment in the trunk.

"Wait." Was all the Wizard said and walked forward towards the alley.

Behind the run down and long since abandoned ‘Bill’s Insane Electronic O’rama’ store, the quiet and dark back ally behind it was utterly filthy.

The only light that illuminated the ally was from the bent light over the door of the store. It eerily cast a dim glow across the broken down and littered cement. On the far side of the mouth of the ally a broken chain link fence enclosing the area was bent horribly long pieces of the links wire sticking out. The bricks of the surrounding buildings where long since crumbling and cracked, and the entire place was covered in littered dibree and trash.

Most of that trash was scattered through out the entire alleyway, and not in the dumpster on the side of the electronics’ store- although there was already a substantial amount of trash there as well. And inside that dumpster was possibly more disgusting then the outside.

For inside that garbage dumpster trash in garbage bags, and stray litter had been piled inside and had been there for quiet a while since the Dump Trucks didn’t come out to this side of town. Food that was nearly a millennium old was strewn out of exploding bags, and culminating in thick syrupy slime and grime. Broken glass and crushed illuminate soda cans where everywhere.

The grimy walls where covered with that garbage, and were sticky black. But one distinctly camouflaged hole had been drilled thorough the metal from the inside into the wall facing the ally, and the glass lens of a bounty hunters Identification Sensor glasses peered out and Jet Black, hunched over inside the closed dumpster, focused them in a wide surveillance of the darkened ally, his gloved cybernetic fingers slowly twisted the knob on the side of the glasses, focusing in on the scans.

Sitting off to the far side of the dumpster the piles of garbage bags and piles of stray trash shifted as Spike Spiegel- half sunken into a pit of the trash and the one who had just spoke up, squirmed in his position among the bags. The inside of the dumpster was about as big as a small closet, but considerably crammed due to the low and closed lid.

Spike was occupying himself by being careful to try and distinctively avoid touching any of the…furry stuff, but then looked at himself and groaned when he noticed a banana peal on the shoulder of his thick coat. Spike gingerly picked it up with the tips of his fingers and discarded it by throwing the peal without looking-too disgusted by his currently degrading position to care.

Spike shivered and tried to burry himself deeper inside his thick pink winter coat, and frowned inside the collar when he sunk lower into the bags. He tried to keep his breathing to a minimal, muffling the smell by inhaling into the coat collar but much to his disgust his nasal passages where getting use to the surroundings and adapting so that he was getting the rancid pungntness anyway.

The smell of this entire dumpster reminded him of a cow meat packing plant that was soaking in rotting maggot juice. And the already frigid air that had dipped bellow 30% the last time he checked sort of…froze the air into an almost physical smoke like inhalence. A smell that had permanently penetrated and soaked through his winter cloths and into his skin. As soon as he got back to the Bebop after collecting this guy, Spike was going to shower for the better part of his natural life! (Or maybe just nine months straight.)

He sighed miserably into his collar, hugging his arms around himself as he watched his frozen breath breathe out in a foggy hail. He could feel the soft pain in the back of his throat like an itch and the slow sniveling in his nose that was the eternal internal indication that he was getting another cold.

Great. Spike had just gotten over his last one two days ago, but apparently being out in the freezing weather was bringing it back full force.

"Is this ghost guy here yet?" Spike asked

dully, coughing as he leaned back against the grimy wall of the dumpster and yawned. One of his gloved hands pulled out from around him and dug into his coat pocket and fished around until he found a cigarette. He stuck it into his mouth and pulled out his lighter, lighting the tip and watched as gray smoke curled into the already rancid air.

Jet, who was so engrossed in concentrating all his attention onto the ally and scanning the ally with his glasses trying very hard to ignore the biting cold, gagged himself when the rotting banana hit the glasses. Pulling off the offensive grime, the former ISSP officer lifted the goggles off his eyes and glared at his lazy friend- the latter of whom was lounging against the dumpster wall on about thirteen garbage bags smoking with his eyes closed, arm slung behind his head in a pillow like he was napping, letting out little coughs of air around the cigarette.

"No." Jet said as he scanned. "And Puck was a sprite not a ghost."

"Whatever. It’s a stupid alias." Spike grumbled as he sneezed and the sighed, inhaling once more on the smoke. "Why they call him Puck anyways?" Spike asked for lack of anything better and bored to tears for something to do or talk about.

"Dunno. Probably because he works for the Council of Wizards and their made up of three members each named after famous wizards and sorcerers named Oberon, Merlin, and Gandolf. The entire Council/gang was headed by a named with the alias as King Arthur. This Arthur guy is the only one who had never been seen or heard of and some think he’s a computerized fabrication that the Council uses as a cover on the net. I think Marrow’s name is a theme name or something as a statement that he works for the gang. Marrow was working for them and Puck was a servant in Shakespeare’s play." Jet said shrugging.

"That’s stupid to." Spike said, sniffing. "The Council of Wizards sounds like a bunch of high school nerds who live with their mother and play Dungeons and Dragons in the basement all day."

"Probably." Jet agreed. "But The Stupid Nickname Gang name was probably already taken."

With that contributed to the conversation he was about to look back out when Spike flicked some burning ashes off to the side carelessly and Jet noticed.

"In case you didn’t notice, trash IS flammable." Jet said, his warning flying right over Spike’s green hair like the wind as Spike just shrugged indifferently and didn’t even bother opening his eyes as he inhaled on the cigarette.

Jet himself knew that when you needed a cigarette fix, it was damned near impossible to ignore it- but one also had to use a SEMBLANCE of reason when smoking. You didn’t throw a burning cigarette out the window into a dry forest and it wasn’t the best of idea’s to smoke while you where in a cramped and enclosed garbage can either.

"And since we’re like- in a metal garbage can with that flammable material, and if we DID get set on fire because of someone’s nicotine fixation, we’d end up dying like fried chicken in a broiler." Jet hinted a bit more strongly. (But it was difficult. Between the smell of garbage and smoke, he himself was dying for cigarette and this was not helping.)

Spike must have caught on- slightly anyway- because he opened his eyes and blinked questioningly. Jet motioned for him to stow the cigarette and he shrugged and plucked it out of his mouth- and instead of crushing it against the wall of the dumpster, Spike just blindly reached out and dropped the flaming cigarette onto a metal can that was off to his right, making Jet gasp when he saw that. (That very reason being because the metal can Spike had chosen to use as an ashtray- once you took the time to examine past the grimy film all over it- read it being as GASOLINE. A minor fact that had escaped Spike’s attention but not Jet’s.)

When the younger bounty hunter leaned back on his arm once more he noticed Jet staring at him and blinked.

"What?" He asked innocently sniffling.

Jet didn’t even bother to explain, (This was Spike, what was the point?) he just rolled his eyes and clicked the glasses back over his eyes and looked through the drilled hole to the ally.

Spike sighed and slouched back against the yucky bags as he sank even farther into the garbage. He and Jet had been inside this smelly pit for at least an hour waiting for Marrow to show up, and their bounty still had not. Spike had been pretty miserable waiting in the ally in the first place with the cold but apparently the gods had deemed to make this even worse because Jet had made them get into the dumpster to surprise attack Marrow. (They had been previously hidden behind the container, but it had become a choice of hiding inside that container with the tons of garbage or outside behind it with cold and hordes of rats. And since Jet apparently had issues with rats, the dumpster had won out in the end.)

"Why are we here?" Came his cool and smooth voice as Spike looked over the bags.

"Because you ruined the Bebop’s engines and without new heating coils we’re gonna be stuck here that’s why." Jet answered as he concentrated on the outside.

"Oh."

Jet smirked at the depressed tone in Spike’s voice but didn’t look over. Spike had only agreed to come out in this weather for such a low bounty because he had been the one to break the Bebop’s engines in the first place.

Spike had done that unintentionally when the younger cowboy had decided to cook some marshmallows, but the ISSP issued Heat Blasters always incinerated the candied food before he could eat it, so Spike had gotten the brilliant idea of roasting them over the heating coils. But he had accidentally dropped half the bag of marshmallows into the coils and just left them their to melt and drip a bunch of marshmallow goop all inside which gunked up the coils with gummy goo, and it had hardened over night into cement. Now the coils where not running at all and apparently without those, neither was the Bebop.

"You know, Edward helped me." Spike said dryly, breaking the silence once more. But just before he was going to continue his shifting of the blame, Spike sat up straighter and began to rapidly sneeze out coughs laborly. When he was finished he sank back down, sniveling miserably and let out another violent sneeze.

Jet looked over when he started coughing and frowned at the condition of his younger partner. Spike was hidden amongst the garbage and his coat, but a little bit of his face was sticking out and he could see his cheeks where a bright rosy- and that was not due to the cold because they stood out among his waning completion- and he had darkening circles under his eye. Even his hair kinda looked a little wilted.

Great. The traditional signs that Spike was getting another cold. (He had never seen a kid that contracted so many colds in his life. Spike was always getting them at least every few months. Jet had formulated a theory that Spike’s immune system would fail if he DIDN’T contract one at every turn from anyone that had one within a fifty mile radius.)

Jet groaned and looked back out the hole for a moment before sighing himself and lower the glasses for the final time.

"Well I guess he’s not coming. Shit." He swore as he shifted around. "I thought this tip was good." And Jet glared death rays at Spike who had let out a snort of laughter at that.

That so-called ‘good tip’ was from a man named Gillian Chase, and Spike had dragged his sorry ass back to the Bebop because he was on the bounty docket for 10,000 woulongs. Gillian had offered a trade of information for this deal and a higher bounty if they would let him go. (Which they didn’t anyway and just turned him in after they got the information. Incidentally old Gillian knew about the deal because his own brother- Walter Chase- who was the buyer in this little illegal market of technology.)

"Told ya."

"Shut. Up." Jet warned and turned to give the hole one last fleeting look, his mouth open to suggest that they just leave when a shadow of movement from outside filtered through that drill hole and was enough to catch his attention.

Frowning Jet leaned forward and clicked the glasses back into place as Spike groaned and clunked his head against the wall when he saw that, knowing now that his one last change at getting out of here was shot. But Jet ignored him and his fingers activated the sensors and he watched as the crosshairs pinpointed and focused in on the movement.

Off to the far side about a yard away from the dumpster one man had walked into the ally.

That guarded man was a tall man garbed in a dark blue cloak that hooded over his face, masking most of his features except for the pale skin of his lower face and angler features, the rest of the cloak trailed around him like water to the ground to scrap the tops of his black boots, masking the rest of his cloths. He was wearing black leather gloves, his right arm the only one visible from his cloak and that gloved hand was holding a briefcase that was cuffed to his wrist.

"Yes!" Jet hissed excitedly as he leaned forward with the sensors. He felt a slow grin creep across his face as the man turned ever so slightly and enough to capture a freeze frame of enough of his face that had fallen from under the hood and the image froze of him, a man with pale skin and glittering glittery green eyes filtering into the data banks of the glasses and began to run through the current warrants out on bounties for positive identification.

Jet watched as the man walked under the light of the doorway, and leaned against the door holding the briefcase, his head lowered like he was thinking.

Suddenly Spike’s- who had immediately crawled forward hurriedly through the garbage at the prospect of a fight- head slammed into Jet’s as they both got into a slight pushing match to see through the hole outside, scuffling through the trash. Spike- despite his waning illness- managed to win out and gleefully shoved Jet aside to peer out through that drilled hole.

"That Marrow?" Spike asked as he scrutinized the scene, his face up close to the wall as he peered through the hole.

Jet- who had fallen back against more garbage bags- adjusted the glasses indignantly but gasped when the identification came up.

Identified as Oberon- member of the Wizard Council and one of the highest-ranking bounties on the docket.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed. "Hey. That’s-" Jet began in shock, but Spike waved at him to be quiet.

From the mouth of the ally way, a man had walked around the corner, melting out of the shadows. He was tall, wearing a dark brown overcoat with a briefcase in his left hand. With blue-slicked back hair and red eyes and a slightly thinning face that had a cybernetic eyepiece over one of his eyes, he matched the description of Willis a.k.a. Puck. Puck was walking through the darkened ally with his head down, scraping past the trash walking towards their position.

"Sprite boy just made his round the world appearance." Spike informed him as he watched.

"Did you really think you would just be able to run away?" His water smooth voice asked, making Puck jerked his head up in shock at the familiarity of it. The former council member gasped and backed up a little as Oberon straightened up from the door of the run down store and finally raised his head to reveal his glittery red eyes that sparkled like rubies.

Puck gasped and quickly moved the case he held in his hand behind him- making Oberon raise an eyebrow.

So he dose have it. It’s in his briefcase.

"You took away our King." Oberon told him coolly. The wizard stepped down from the stoup of the doorway and walked past a wary Puck to stop directly in front of the Garbage dumpster. "And you stole away his only change to live once more."

Puck’s eyes narrowed and he tensed. The bounty cast a quick look around the cramped ally and knew- while he couldn’t see them- that Oberon hadn’t come in here alone. His ‘associates’ where hidden around here somewhere.

He pressed himself up against the wall as Oberon passed by him, leaning against the briefcase he held that contained the Recorder. He couldn’t allow the Council to get his creation and re-animate Arthur. Willis didn’t want that line of life and death crossed and nor did Arthur.

But the Council was going to do everything in their power to inaugurate him back once more. And Puck knew that he was going to die here. He had been so careful!

"What did you do with Chase?" Puck asked, tilting his head inquiringly as he leaned against the crumbling walls. "Did he ever exist?"

"Dose it matter?" Oberon asked as he set the case containing Arthur onto the dumpster. He turned around, leaning back against the grimy can and tilted his own head.

"You’re going to die. Give me the recorder." Oberon told him bluntly.

Puck jerked around when he heard the distinct clicks of weapons and stun around to the chain link fence seeing two men- Silver and O’Neil- holding guns that where pointed at him.

Spike looked to Jet and the older cowboy slowly mouthed something while pointing towards the wall where Oberon was.

He’s worth more.

Then Jet motioned to himself.

Spike nodded, understanding without needing any details. Puck may have been worth a lot, but if cloak man was worth more then he was top priority. Jet would capture that man, and Spike would take out Puck, both of them bringing down the other two goons with guns.

Spike silently motioned made a punching gesture with his hands upward towards the lid. Jet caught on and nodded, pulling the glasses off his eyes, sliding them back into his pocket and de-holstering his gun. They could take on all of these guys. It was just a matter of getting the upper hand in the first few seconds.

They both crouched down low, scooting deeper into the garbage, Spike coiling strength into his legs, and he tensed as Jet held up his cybernetic hand. Five fingers.

Four.

Three.

Walter was a low life drug dealer who had traded his ID for the new one of Gillian with the Council so they could use his identity for the trade before the original exchange between Walter and Puck could go down, so they could have the advantage and no back-traces that Puck made on him could be linked to them since they where still using Walter’s name on the Net.

Oberon didn’t expect or foresee the fact that Gillian would have told bounty hunters about the deal in exchange for a free walk.

"Give me the Recorder." Oberon repeated quietly.

BAM!

No more numbers.

Without warning the lid to the garbage dumpster was violently thrown open as Spike had put all his strength behind the attack, and punched it upward- the motion of the lid slamming into Oberon who was still leaning against the can, sending the wizard careening forward for fall down to the ground. Puck took off instantly, seeing his escape as he ran towards the mouth of the ally, hugging the briefcase he held. He managed to get away, but his foot slipped in a spot of slim and with a cry he crashed down to the ground, his foot now tangled in a mess of plastic and duct tape from a faded box.

Jet- who instantly stood up the moment Spike punched the lid open- whirled around and fired his gun at Silver and the other MIB.

Silver had the advantage of being more experienced in combat apparently because as soon as Oberon pitched forward he dived to the side of the fence, rolling behind a metal barrel near the stoup.

The other guy wasn’t so fortunate because Jet’s bullet slammed into his hand, knocking the gun from his grip and blood splattered everywhere as he fell backward screaming in pain.

Before Jet could turn to un-arm Silver, Spike leaped out of the dumpster for Puck when a bullet whizzed by the younger Cowboy’s arm, whispering near his ear and Jet crashed back down into the dumpster swearing as another hail of bullets began to fire around him, slamming into the crumbling wall of Billy’s Electronic store, raining down bits of brick and cement. Silver- who was firing around the can he was using as cover- continued to fire his gun at the dumpster, the bullets denting and embedding into the metal.

"Spike! Get Oberon!" Jet roared over the gunfire as he re-loaded his weapon.

The wizard was groaning slightly, his hand outstretched and steadying himself as he pushed himself up but Spike continued his careening fall through the air from the can- flipped past the bullets being exchanged and landed Oberon’s back, shoving his face and body into the dirty ground once more with a loud "OAF!" from Oberon.

Spike reached down and grabbed onto his cloak and dragged a dazed Oberon to his feet. He raced across the ally way the other wall, not even bothering with the MIB man lying there crying in a pool of blood, dragging him and slammed him into the bricks. Oberon roared angrily and tried to swing his fist at him, but Spike easily dodged it and grabbed his fist, spinning him around and slamming him chest first against the wall, pining his arm.

Spike reached out and grabbed onto a protruding piece of wire from the fence and pulled on it, wrapping it around Oberon quickly as he ran behind him just as the wizard spun around to try once more to hit him, and Spike used that by ducking once more to the side, running back around, jerking upright with the wire and spinning Oberon’s arm into a cocoon of wire, binding him down. Spike jerked so hard on the wire to tie him down that the briefcase that was cuffed to his wrist had gotten in the way and it snapped off, the case crashing to the ground in a puddle of water.

Spike finished tying him down and jumped back just as Oberon roared once more and tried to hit at him blindly. He smirked at him, reaching into his coat and pulling out a cigarette, (Finally!) and his lighter, lighting up the smoke as he overlooked his handy work.

"Life’s a little tougher outside the game board eh, Mr. Wizard?" Spike dryly as he blew a gently caress of smoke into the air.

"Bastard!" Oberon spat at him venomously. "You don’t know what you’ve done!"

"Uh, caught you?" Spike asked, giving him a confused look. Oberon screamed at him enraged and jerked against his binds with such force Spike was surprised he didn’t rip himself into pieces.

Spike reared his hand back and punched Oberon square in the jaw, knocking his head back to crack against the brick, and he slumped forward unconscious. Spike leaned back once more, inhaling onto the smoke as he nodded- satisfied with his handy work.

His moment of smoking solitude was short lived however when the hail of bullets that where being exchanged through all this, turned and three bullets slammed into the wall very near Spike’s and Oberon’s head.

"Whoa!" Spike yelled, whirling around, and twisting just as another bullet fired. Silver had changed targets from Jet, to Spike and when the younger bounty hunter dived out of the way, his gun trailed after him.

Spike crashed onto the gross ground- still smoking- rolling in the trash and dirt as the bullets ate away in the water and cement very near him. But the ally was only so big, and he was already near the linked fence, and Spike rolled- sitting up and crashing into the fence. As he straightened up from his sitting position against the wall, Silver ducked around the corner of the barrel once more and aimed at Spike.

"See you space cowboy." Silver smirked, and Spike’s eyes widened when he saw how close they where. (Only about a yard apart.) He tried to dive out of the way back where he came from but they where just to close, and Silver’s finger pulled the trigger, the bullet flying directly at him.

Luckily Spike’s dive pulled him out of the way so that the bullet didn’t slam into his brain, but he still couldn’t move fast enough to avoid the trajectory and he cried out a grunt of pain as he felt a fiery explosion explode in his shoulder. Hot blood splattered across the wall as the bullet exited his shoulder and Spike slammed into the ground rolling on some broken glass, the wound throwing off his movements.

Crap. This on top of a cold. Spike thought rolling his eyes as he sniveled. Just what I need!

Jet was working on finding another round to re-load into his weapon, (And not finding it either only one stray bullet in his pocket since he forgot Spike was holding all the ammunition in his inner coat pocket.) when he heard Spike’s yell of pain. He jerked upright and looked over the lip of the can to see him lying on the ground, holding his shoulder that was flowing blood. Silver was aiming once more to get a more clean shot of his temple as Spike struggled to get moving again. Spike managed to work his gun out of his coat and he blindly fired at Silver, making him draw back behind the canister. But the bodyguard still had the upper hand because Spike was out and wounded, exposed in the open and he was hidden and unharmed.

"Shit!" Jet swore. He had no time, and only one bullet. Silver was still sheltered by the barrel and he might have been a good shot but bullets couldn’t make round the corner turns to hit their targets.

As his eyes frantically roamed the garbage can as if it held a solution, wincing when he heard Spike continue firing randomly. He only had about nine more shots left and Jet couldn’t find anything to help with…

Suddenly Jet’s eyes fell onto where Spike had been sitting. He blinked when he could make out that GASOLINE can that Spike had dropped his still lit cigarette on.

Five shots.

Jet instantly dived across the dumpster, wading past the trash and bags that slowed him down a bit.

Three shots.

Jet’s flesh hand grabbed onto the GASOLINE can, and his finger on the cigarette before it rolled. When he jerked back, to his relief the can was still half way full.

One shot.

Empty.

Spike groaned when he heard the distinct clicking of an empty chamber in his weapon and threw it away from him annoyed. He risked looking over his shoulder and saw Silver had come around the barrel and leveled the gun muzzle at him.

His finger tightened around the trigger as Spike tensed up, preparing himself for some more futile rolling, (Where the hell was Jet?!) when all the sudden something flew over his head that shadowed over him and distracted him for a moment. Blinking Spike looked up to see a can flying through the air and he looked over at the dumpster to see Jet jerk upright and fire his own weapon and the one bullet he had left.

Silver jerked back around, angry over the distraction from killing SOMETHING when the can flew past his field of vision, trailing thick red liquid from the bullet hole that had been shot through it. The can clattered and landed off about a few feet from him, and before Silver could register what was happening- Jet flicked the cigarette out the side of the dumpster.

Jet didn’t even bother waiting for it to ignite. He jumped out the dumpster and landed on the cement, running over to Spike. The cigarette landed on the stream that had dripped out in the air, and with a loud WOOSH ignited the gasoline, and ran along the liquid faster then the eye could see, catching on stray paper and cardboard, engulfing that section of the ally in flames.

Silver cried out in shock as the flames that trailed on the gasoline and exploded in his face all around him where it had trailed and fallen from. Next to him beer bottles and cans exploded, firing glass shrapnel at him and trapping him behind that iron hot barrel.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Silver screamed as the flames crowed him.

Jet skidded to a stop next to Spike who was sitting up, still holding his shoulder that was bleeding profusely. He knelt down next to his younger partner.

"You okay-" He asked. Spike nodded and blinked looking over Jet’s shoulder. When the older bounty hunter turned to see what see what he was looking at he saw that Puck was still struggling to get his foot free from its binds.

Spike grabbed onto Jet’s shoulders and used him as a boost to climb to his feet.

"I’m fine." He assured him, sounding strained from pain, but he took off down the ally anyway.

"You get Oberon this time! I’ll get Puck!" He called to a startled Jet.

Jet blinked and looked over at Oberon who was glowing a soft orange from the fire his form slumped over and hung from his binds. He cast one last look over at Spike and shrugged climbing back to his feet going over to Oberon.

Spike ran down the ally way, huffing out clouds of frost from his mouth from the exertion on his shoulder, his hand tightly clamped over the strangely cold oozing blood. His wound was burning in sheer agony but he had had worse and could handle it just fine for a few more minutes. He could feel the first streams of heat from the blazing inferno behind him, but his body was loosing blood so his arm felt icy cold. He gritted his teeth and ran past the blur of night, broken down buildings, and crumbling bricks as he neared a struggling Willis.

Feeling his heart pounding with desperation, Puck screamed at his leg and ripped at the wrapping, crying with relief when the damned bubble wrap gave way and un-twisted from his ankle.

Jerking his head up as he twisted around to scramble to his feet he gasped when he saw Spike running full speed at him but a few precious feet away from him, frighteningly fast for someone who was wounded. He rolled on his stomach and pushed off with his hands, narrowly escaping Spike’s hand that swiped at his jacket.

He heard the bounty hunter swore and he twisted to the right, feeling the closely shadowed presence of the man, and Puck crashed onto his briefcase, clawing it up as he scrambled about and managed to get to his feet steadily, plowing ahead to the exit. Just as he turned to corner, racing past the broken windows and three yards away from that cursed death hell he had escaped from, freedom narrowly away- a loud screaming of tires caught his attention and Puck skidded to a stop, freezing under the street light as he stared with horror across the street in the ally across the building where car lights where steadily getting brighter. The black car was coming through that ally towards where he was.

It was the back up for Oberon and his ‘Associates.’

"No." He whispered as he stared at the approaching lights, feeling a heavy weight press down on his chest. The feeling of failure. Of failing a good friend and fear for his own approaching death.

He wasn’t getting out of this.

The Council would get the Recorder he had created, and re-animate Arthur. Everything he had escaped for was wasted in the end.

Puck felt tears sting in his eyes as he waited there, hugging the case shaking just as Spike rounded the corner.

Spike growled annoyed as he slid around the corner where the slippery little fellow managed to get away, where he had been running towards the exit of the ally. Wasting no time he chased after him, ignoring but wincing at the pain in his shoulder as he reached into his coat and pulled out his second weapon, re-loading a clip into it.

Barley waiting for himself to stop, the gun snapped out in his hand, his finger easily sliding around the loop and tightened on the trigger as he slid to a stop at the exit and pointed it at Puck who had froze under the streetlights, car lights from in front of him illuminating his face.

Puck froze when Spike’s cool voice came from behind him.

"Robin Goodfellow could make it around the world in less then a hour." Spike commented; his weapon trained at Puck’s head. "I don’t think you’re quiet that fast."

Puck stood there, blinking and concentrating. A new idea had rooted in his brain as the Cowboy started talking. He was recalling the fight in the ally that had occurred but not a few moment ago, remembering how Spike had handled himself. He was pretty damn slick and maybe…

Puck closed his eyes. This was a bad idea. A stupid on in fact and very dangerous. Not to mention very very desperate. But he had no choice.

Spike waited for Puck to say something, make a move or do something. But the man just stood there, the lights from the car getting brighter as it approached and he just stood.

Spike started to walk forward but suddenly Willis voice spoke up, so softly Spike had to strain to hear him.

"Once upon a time there was a King." Puck said quietly, not looking at anything but that light. "He was a powerful King and commanded a Council of sorcerers."

Spike stopped walking and stared at Puck.

"What?" He asked confused. What the hell was he talking about? He was going to arrest him and take him in and he was telling him a story!

What the hell was going on here?

"Then one day, that King died." Puck said and turned around to look at Spike. He blinked in surprise at the lifelessness of those eyes that stared at him. They where like a corpse. With no light or life in them at all.

The eyes of a man that had just given up completely.

Puck was glowing slightly in the approaching light and really DID resemble a sprite at that moment as the case he held slid into his right hand and to his side as he walked towards Spike. It was so strange that he almost backed up, but the weight of the gun in his hand reminded him he had the upper hand in this situation, and pointed it directly at the mans chest in a silent warning.

"But that Council didn’t want their King to die, so they cast a spell and put his soul in a doll." Puck explained, his left hand sliding into his pocket. His gloved fingers felt the thin hardened sides of the black tasser and he looked at the bounty hunter sadly.

"But the King didn’t want to be a doll. So the Council decided to make him into a living person again. But in order to do that they needed a special talisman that would give the King a body, but in order to do that they needed to get that talisman from a Knight."

"What are you talking about?" Spike demanded annoyed. He was finding it hard to center the weapon with his shoulder screaming in pain, and he was finding this guy rather strange.

"You." Puck said, his left hand pulling out of his pocket and concealing his own stun gun. "The Knight they need to get the talisman back from is you."

Then he swung his fist.

Spike was prepared for a punch and easily dogged it, twisting around to grab onto Puck’s hand and twist his arm around in an echo of what he had done to Oberon. But the minute he turned, his hand colliding with Puck’s, his left palm intercepted the metal teeth of the stun gun and he cried out in shock as a third degree electric jolt pierced through his skin and system, horribly sending his nerves screaming in pain and confusion, his entire mind going white. His shoulder- already throbbing- exploded the pain all over his body but it was strange. Like he could see the pain on the horizon but he was just a spectator to the it and never really registering it.

Spike could only let out a grunt of shock, feeling the numbing sensation rush through him and before he knew what happened, his mind blitzed and his body lost control. He pitched forward, the gun clattering out of his hand and onto the cement as he fell forward, gasping as he tried to get his body to remember to breath. He was only vaguely aware of the arms that caught him, but it was like a shadow and he slumped forward- his body tingling like electric jolts as his system tried to re-assert itself. His mind was just white and no longer registering or remembering anything.

Puck caught Spike as he collapsed, and looked around hurriedly. The car was stuck still and he had little time.

Acting quickly, he dragged Spike over the sidewalk and carefully leaned his prone form up against the broken down building he was standing in front of. Propping Spike upright until he was sitting, slightly slumped over, Puck turned back around and lifted the briefcase up- quickly typing in the code to the locks.

The locks popped open once the code was accepted, and he carefully lifted the lid.

Resting inside the case, nestled within the cushioned protection, the glass lid reflected the Recorder. It’s metal wire frame fitted to fit around a forehead, blue fiberglass between the wires that beeped with technological life, and near the section where the temples would be, the fiberglass rounded into circles where two needles ejected out of. From those prongs, yellow fiber optic eyeglass extended, rounding down over the eyes like bubbles, that glass that extended down slid back and not active. Not yet.

Puck carefully opened the glass casing, gently removing the device. His fingers slid around the band, de-pressing the program and activating the entire thing.

He turned his attention back to Spike, and gently lifted his limp head, holding his chin and positioning the device that fit perfectly around his forehead. Spike shifted, groaning- his control over his nerves and mind starting to come back slowly.

And Puck wasted no time.

He activated the Recorder.

As soon as he did, the blue glass lit up glowing softly, and the wires clamped down around Spike’s head. The yellow glass ejected, sliding over his eyes. And from the two ports near his temples, two long needles ejected from them and slid neatly into Spike’s skull. They slid inside his brain. going through bone and skull like it wasn’t event here. The thin needles where visible through the eyepieces.

And the program fully activated.

Satisfied that the Recorder could handle the rest of the activation into his mind, Puck quickly grabbed Spike’s fallen gun and spun around.

The car had slid around in front of them, sliding to a stop with a scream. Three more ‘Associates’ jumped out of the car but instantly dived to the side as Puck fired off the gun in their direction.

Puck gave the bounty hunter one last look and hoped that the Recorder would be safe. Whirling around and firing rapidly at the men, Puck took off down the street to draw their attention away from Spike.

And left him there half conscious, with the unknown programmed device now thoroughly embedded inside his brain.

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The blue glass around his head began to dim, still glowing softly. The needles inside him brain began to re-wire and re-work it’s programming to adjust to his mind.

Inside his brain, his nerves screamed in protest to the invasion of organic veins being grown as they stretched very slowly across the cerebral cortex. However the true veins where now grown yet, the needles simply outlaying and scanning- mapping to the layout of his organic biology. The needles spread out wiring around his brain, laying out the network for the original organic ones that would soon begin to grow as the program evolved.

And Spike slowly began to re-gain consciousness, groaning in pain as his mind throbbed with the intrusion of fiery wires grew inside of him. He was only aware of the pain- not his cold surroundings, and his body automatically grabbed onto the windowsill, his fingers grinding into the broken glass as he pulled himself upright, gasping from the electric invasion. He swayed, opening his eyes a little bit- and groaned at the brightness of the night. Automatically the glass around his eyes darkened to almost black, giving his eyes shelter.

Spike blurrily, sub-consciously- responded to old memories of getting help- and he stumbled at bit, holding onto the wall as he shakily headed towards the ally where Jet was.

And the program continued to grow as the Recorder worked it’s propose.

Jet hardly noticed the Wizards silent hate radiating from him even in sleep as he dragged the other nameless and whimpering MIB suite across the ally from where he had previously been lying in his blood. Jet sat the sniffling man down onto a pile of blackened cardboard and cuffed his wrists and ignored his cry of pain as he handled his wounded hand.

"Stop whining." Jet said to the man as he looked at him pathetically. "You’re a criminal. You where going to get hurt eventually, you’re time just came today."

With that he turned back around, clapping the soot off his hands and began to head towards the dumpster where he had dropped his COM device, when he passed by a pile of ashes, and his booth swift through them, connecting with something hard.

Jet looked down, blinking- surprised anything had survived the burning fire. Even the glass had been shattered in the fire due to the heat.

Kicking slightly at the ashes, a piece of shinny metal glittered through the black soot and he bent down, wiping away the burnt paper and cardboard, pulling a briefcase free of melted plastic that was stuck to it.

Straightening up, he found that the metal was the broken chain from the handcuffs from Oberon. It had to have been pretty important to be so secured to him.

"Huh." Jet commented, shaking the case a bit. The case was heavy, whatever was inside thumping around lightly in the secure inside. When Jet raised the case up to look at the sturdiness of the locks, they where still bonded firmly in place.

CA-CLATTERCRASH!

Jet looked up and over his shoulder when the clattering sounds of trash being tipped over, and saw at the entrance of the ally- the hunched over form of Spike holding onto the wall, stumbling erratically from colliding with a pile of garbage piled on metal trash cans with boxes on to as he walked, head bent down so far his chin almost was touching his chest.

Jet blinked in surprise at how unsteady his friend looked, wondering if he had been hurt worse then originally he let on.

"Uh, where’s Puck?" He called back to him, for lack of anything better.

Spike crashed against the wall at the sudden sounds of voices, his mind echoing it horribly, leaching out each word so badly it sounded like shrieking. He gripped the crumply wall, and looked up wincingly, a tiny voice inside of him wondering what or where he was. But his groggy mind was to…jumbled to think clearly, and all he was seeing was blurry forms ahead in the darkness.

The sudden onslaught of whatever device was binding itself inside his skull- light up brightly as the pressure in his mind threatened to explode.

"AH!" He yelled, grabbing onto his head- his hands hitting the device- (What the hell is this thing?) and he stumbled crashing backward against the wall once more.

Jet jumped when he fell down and instantly dropped the case to run across the ally. Sliding to a stop in front of Spike he knelt down, gripping his shoulders and shaking him slightly- his downward turned head bobbing like a dolls.

"Spike?" Jet asked. "Hey what’s wrong-"

Spike managed to lift his head, his eyes winced so tight that they where almost shut completely and frowned as he tried to make out the blurry thing in front of him.

As soon as he did Jet stopped talking and stared. Spike had some sort of…glasses around his eyes, but the yellow lenses extended down from the side of a band that was around his forehead. They where spaced away from his head enough to see that there where two glass ports near his temples, and needles where inserted into his skin- undoubtly into his skull- and blood was leaching down the side of his face from where they where embedded.

The device was also glowing from the glass almost internally.

"What the hell!" Jet exclaimed as he stared at whatever was now attached to Spike’s head. When he looked at the eye lenses that where almost black, they lightened to dark yellow under the darkness of the ally to reveal Spike’s slightly discolored eyes, staring around disorderedly.

What the hell happened to him?

"What happened to you?" Jet asked confused but Spike obviously was in no condition to answer because he just stared past him.

"Aw man!" Jet groaned, as he looked back at Oberon and his other bound Associate. This was not good. Whatever this weird device was, it was obvious that Spike now needed help. But with him incapacitated, there was only one of them now and Jet could only take one back to the ship without help.

Money for new coils, or help his friend who got into trouble like this at every turn.

Sometimes Jet thought that friendship was seriously overrated. (But then again, Spike DID need help so…)

Jet sighed, turning around to face the bounties. Well, he would leave them tied there and come back for them once he brought Spike back to the Bebop. If they got free…well…then they got free.

As a after through, Jet looked back then propped Spike back up against the wall so he would be conformable then climbed to his feet, walking back to where he had set the brief case down.

"Hey!" The MIB man cried out when Jet picked up the case and started to walk away. Jet paused and looked back. "T-that’s not yours! It belongs to the Council!" He said, shrinking back at Jets glare.

"Well now it’s mine." Jet told him, and walked away from the sputtering lackey.

That lackey- named O’Neil- watched in disbelief as Jet walked away with the case that contained their King. The bounty hunter helped Spike stand up and slung his arm over his shoulder, half dragging him away from the scene.

As he did, he noticed something glowing around Spike’s head and his mouth dropped open as he stared.

The Recorder!

Those two bounty hunters had their King AND the Recorder!

"Oh no." O’Neil whispered, and looked at an unconscious Oberon, then back at the retreating hunters as they rounded the corner.

| Opening Theme TANK begins to play.|

The room was located in an observatory, the large glass dome ceiling revealing the night sky and stars that twinkled like glitter in it. All around the bottom level the walls where made of glass to overlook the broken city and more of the view of the sky.

A man wearing a dark black robe and dark blue cape stood on the edge of the platform of the catwalk that ran along the second story of the observatory that overlooked the bottom of the observatory, his hood concealing his face.

Bellow him stood a battered looking O’Neil, who’s clothing was torn and bloody, his skin coated lightly black with soot and ashes. He was holding his bloody hand that was still leaching blood down to puddle on the ground and he was trembling so violently his teeth where chatter and that was not due to the cold- but to his fear.

Behind him stood Oberon- Second Council member to the Wizards. His own cloak was covered in black sooth was well, and he had tears in his cloak from where he had torn free from the wire binds. His head was bent as always, but a small trickle of blood was dripping down his chin from the large welling bruise where Spike had knocked him unconscious.

Merlin- standing over them as he stared down at them coldly- held his stance with his hand on his hip.

"What happened?" Came a voice from bellow, hidden amongst the shadows near the wall as the third and final member of the Council- a unseen man named Gandolf- asked gruffly as his shoes clicked on the floor, circling around them like pray.

"B-b-bounty hunters s-surprised us." O’Neil stuttered frightened as he looked up at Merlin pleadingly. "T-They took King Arthur."

"You did nothing to stop them?" The Wizard in the shadows whispered to the terrified man coyly.

"I-I couldn’t! They tied me up and-" O’Neil started to cry desperately.

"The Recorder?" Gandolf interrupted as he slowly melted from the shadows of the wall to appear in the pale beams of the moonlight glowing down from the windows above. His eyes where like Oberon’s- related in their supernatural appearance- glowing white pupils like a wolf’s glared out at him, making him appear like the lethal and graceful animal those eyes so resembled.

O’Neil felt his heart freeze in terror and he tried to think of something. He knew that that other Bounty hunter (What did that tall man call him?) Spike (!) now possessed it and the program and device was now embedded inside his brain instead of the Council’s own chosen one. But they also possessed Arthur now, and that meant he was with them.

"One of the Cowboy’s- I believe his name was Spike. Puck input the device onto his head. He’s partners with the other one that took Arthur’s case!" O’Neil whispered.

There was nothing said by either member of the Council as they pondered this development. From above the ‘Associate’ could see Lord Merlin slowly walk along the catwalk, still masked in the shadows as his boots quietly and unnervingly clomped onto the metal ramp, never saying a word as he watched over the precession. The cool darkness hid him well, and he didn’t say anything as Merlin turned away from his Council members and the pathetic shell O’Neil, turning to look around the large window of domes, elbow in hand, his blue-gloved fingers pressed against his lips as he watched. Merlin could almost see the flaming ash of the fire sprinkling around in the air that soared. Or maybe that was just the red-hot rage building up quietly inside of him. But he was head Lord of The Council of Wizards and he would never lose his control over his emotions.

Even in a horribly desperate situation this had become.

He didn’t turn as Gandolf slowly, stalking and the third Council Wizard stopped in front of O’Neil, leaning in so close to the terrified man his face was mere inches from his own. O’Neil was absolutely terrified- his heart pounding so loud he was sure it was echoing through out the entire empty place as the glowing wolf eyes seemingly saw past him into his own soul.

"I. Repeat." Gandolf said softly, his quiet voice that held not threat to it more frightening then any demon could ever become. "Why. Didn’t. You. Stop. Them?" He breathed softly.

O’Neil was near hysterical tears as he tried to make himself to back up, but instinctively did so a few steps. His hand was throbbing in pain but he raised it up as if to ward off the demonic Wizard. He could have sworn he saw Gandolf’s eyes flare almost pleasurably at the sight of the dripping dark red liquid, and he smiled, baring his teeth slightly.

O’Neil had never been so frightened.

But he didn’t have to worry about it for long.

For as soon as he backed up, he accidentally bumped into Oberon- who had remained steadily silent, his anger and rage building as much, if not more strongly then Merlin’s and he was no where near as in control as the high commander.

With a cry of utter hatred and rage, Oberon screamed at O’Neil and shoved him back forward- pulling a gun out of his cloak- the weapon snapping out into his hand.

Gandolf jerked his head to the side, the crack of the bullet leaving the chamber giving him a slight warning and O’Neil’s brain and burning hot blood splattered all over his chest and the side of his face as that same bullet exploded from the associates nose.

The lifeless body of O’Neil fell forward to splatter onto the hard ground in a thick puddle of blood that had dripped from his hand, now to pool in an ocean from his head.

Gandolf’s face remained turned away, his left side of his profile now covered in blood- but it didn’t bother him. For a moment he remained that way, feeling the blood all over him cooling and he turned to look at the spot where the now dead associate once stood, now leaving only Oberon, frozen, still in anger, the gun tip hissing with smoke lightly.

Merlin- who remained where he was still during the shot- turned back around after a moment to see Oberon let out another scream and whirl around, throwing the weapon as hard as he could at one of the observatory windows.

The metal gun hit the glass and it shattered the entire frame and glass, raining down glittery shards of the window like stars falling from the sky. Oberon whirled around panting as he glared both of his fellow Council members.

"This will work to our advantage." Merlin spoke up finally, his voice or emotion or expression not changing at all as he walked towards the end of the catwalk.

"How!" Oberon snapped, anger and self-disgust evident on his features as he whirled back around and stalked over to the broken window, his boots crunching on the tiny blasted pieces of glass as he snapped up his gun once more from the ledge.

"We have lost BOTH of our most precious cargo and we have no idea who the hell any of these men were!" Oberon roared, his fingers expertly clicking the wasted cartridges out of the chamber to clatter to the floor as he snapped it back to set-to-fire. Still feeling the burning of self-humiliation at the way he handled everything, Oberon slid the gun back into the hidden holster in his cloak, and grabbed onto the sill, running his hand through his raven black hair. "The one we chose to be Arthur was going to be Landry, NOT some low life bounty hunter scum!" He said softly, looking out over the ruins of the city.

"Merlin is correct this can work to our advantage." Gandolf said as he reached into his bloody cape/cloak with blood stained gloves and removed a white cloth. The youngest Wizard un-sympathetically dabbed at the blood that smeared his face carefully, staining the cloth red and pulpy with the brain and bone that had hit him. He simply discarded his cape that was covered in pieces of O’Neil’s head and face and flesh, walking past the lifeless corps on the floor marinating in it’s own fluids and dropped the cape onto it like a laundry hamper and with about as much thought or care.

He walked towards the table that was set up on the far wall as he spoke.

"If this fellow- ah, what was his name?"

"Spike." Oberon hissed in hatred. He never hated anyone so much in his life. That over confidant cowboy idiot made a complete fool out of him and ruined EVERYTHING!

"Right then. If this Spike can handle battle and out match even you Oberon then perhaps he is a more worthy choice for Arthur’s host after all." Gandolf said, stopping at the table where a shutdown computer was. He activated it, and began to type on the Net.

"You can not be serious!" Oberon cried outraged as he spun around to stare incredulously at the youngest Council member.

"I am very serious." Gandolf said not at all put off by his fellow brothers behavior.

"What choice do we have?" Merlin asked as he descended the stairs from the catwalk. Both Wizards turned to see their High Lord step down from the last stair and look at them both through his dark hood. "The Recorder was only meant to be used once. We have no choice. Spike is now the chosen one for Arthur."

Oberon remained rooted to where he was in utter hatred but desperately tried to keep his mouth shut. They where right and they had no choice but his own personal contempt of the Cowboy was difficult to ignore. He was the one who had wanted to kill him the first chance he got, but now as Arthur, he could not.

"You are feeling humiliated and embarrassed because you where foiled by this man." Merlin told him quietly, and brutally blunt. "But he now posses The Recorder inside his mind and he is now the chosen one for Arthur."

"You forget." Oberon hissed at him. "He may posses The Recorder but they ALSO have Arthur." He snarled.

"And whose fault is that?" Merlin inquired, making Oberon face fault and back up a step like he had been slapped in the face. "But where the original foundation for our plans was destroyed and new one is weaving and building itself as we speak, one that may stand and function better then before. Arthur is fully self-aware and capable. When and if he sees a chance to become Spike, then he will. If not in the meantime we shall attempt to locate these bounty hunters and take back what was and is now still ours." Merlin informed him.

Oberon didn’t say anything as he tried to control his emotions and breathing and he glared over at Gandolf who was working on the computer.

Intellectually he knew Merlin was right, and his duty to their King overrode all.

"He was shot in the ally." Oberon told him tersely. "There was to much blood to come from O’Neil and Silver, and the other bounty hunter was unharmed as was Puck. Send a team out to get a sample of the blood; do a DNA search and find his file. Discover what ship he is registered on and find the damned ship!" He snapped the last of the instructions as he turned away and stalked off past Merlin.

"Gee. Would have never thought of that." Gandolf commented sarcastically- his contempt for Oberon radiating in his tone. Oberon’s’ face flushed and he Gandolf exchanged heated glares.

VERY slowly, Oberon walked towards the youngest Wizard. Gandolf raised an eyebrow but didn’t back down as he held down, glaring at Oberon as he advanced a few inches from him and towered over him darkly.

Carefully, Oberon’s lather gloved hand reached up and his index finger trailed along in the slick blood along his cheek, caressing his skin. He held it out in front of Gandolf’s wolf eyes, his bloody glove glowing in the moonlight and computer screen light.

"Careful." He warned quietly, and Gandolf smirked at him.

"Extended." Was all he said.

Oberon glowered down and spun back around, his cloak whirling around him like the wind as he stalked past Merlin towards the doorway exit.

Merlin watched the scene with cool red-eyes as he shook his head and frowned. This was getting out of hand. The Council was beginning to go at war with one another.

The Red Dragons where amongst the most powerful syndicates in the galaxy because they ran like a mafia. But the Council of Wizards ran like a court, and their King had passed. In a court leadership and power and control was passed onto a Prince but Arthur had no appointed Prince.

That left the position open to anyone power-hungry enough to kill for it.

Merlin watched as Gandolf continued to work on the computer and closed his eyes.

"God save the King." His lips whispered.

Somewhere inside his mind he was aware that whatever device was embedded on his head, it was recording everything around and inside him, all the information recording and playing inside his brain. He could literally SEE himself lying on the couch of the Bebop in the reflection of the fans light bulb. Reflecting the image of a guy who looked awful, his shirt off and his shoulder and arm bandaged tightly, with a light staining of blood still, his wan completion pale under the artificial light. The cool breeze of that fan was blowing over his skin gently, and if he stretched his ‘Vision’ he could see the eternal T.V. that was always on the table on, Edward and Ein sitting on the table, her face inches from the screen.

Seeing himself this way was like looking through a camera lens with no physical body.

Spike wondered inside his mind if this was what being in a coma felt like. He wanted to move, at least wake up but a when he turned around a bright data barrier inside his brain was preventing the command from fully being accepted.

So Spike mentally pushed. The hell he was just going to sit there inside his brain like computer file with no will power. Inside his mind he fought and shoved as hard as he could mentally against that light, feeling burning tingling inside his brain and it almost hurt- but it was that same feeling of pain when the device was put on- the knowing that he was aware of it, but the pain simply tinged the edges of his mind, as if the Novocain of a cavity where slightly warring off, tingling with pain but not actually hurting.

Pushing.

Pushing.

Burning. Pain.

Pushing.

/ARG! / He cried out in his dreams and gave one last shove against the solid light, feeling it give away like a crumbling wall, pushing a big enough hole into it that allowed him to fall through it unintentionally, into darkness.

Falling.

Falling.

Watching in the bulb as his reflection came nearer and nearer as he fell towards himself.

Contact.

Spike felt his consciousness crash headfirst into awareness and suddenly his vision spectrum switched from a camera back to his own eyes as they snapped open.

When his eyes opened to break into the light of the Bebop- thrown instantly into a pit of darkness that shouldn’t have been there- the pain slammed into him with full force. He knew his shoulder had been shot through, that he at least remember, so it really didn’t bother him all that much. (Shit, he’d gotten worse before, this was a scratch compared to the body cast he had been caged into after falling out of that Cathedral window. Now THAT was pain.)

But even the pain of a full body break couldn’t compare to the mother load of all headaches that viciously attacked him and clawed his brain.

It was like thousands of fire ants traipsing around his mind, clawing and ripping out matter.

"Guha!" Spike grunted, writhing in pain and confusion as he turned his head to the side, trying to figure out where he was. When his eyes opened it was completely dark- throwing him off completely as he knew he was on the Bebop and his eyes where open.

He blinked and concentrated, trying to understand, (And for one frightening thought hoping he hadn’t gone blind or something.) when right before his eyes, the darkness began to lift like the dimming of a light- only this time it was getting brighter. Spike stared as the lenses over his eyes accommodated his sight by shifting to complete and pitch black to a light- yet still vaguely dark that didn’t cause his eyes to much pain- yellow, allowing him to see.

Okay. This. Is weird.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. As soon as the strange lenses brightened enough for him to see Spike spotted Edward and Ein on the table.

But what was weird is what was around his head.

Spike turned his head once more to look at the ceiling fan- getting an even stranger feeling of deja vu and blinked.

Suddenly an inching feeling crept through his nose and without warning he let out a violent sneeze, sending him lurching upright so suddenly the pain in his head throbbed in protest increasing the already unbearable inferno cooking his brain.

When Spike sat up slightly at the sneeze, it gained Edwards and the Data dog’s attention and they both looked away from their puppet show to see Bandage-Spike person leaning over the couch on his good elbow sniffling.

"Yhay! Spike-person’s awake!" Ed cheered happily, drawing the bounty hunters attention to her as he tried to ward off the sound of…well anything. But her voice was echoing in his head.

And Spike didn’t have a chance.

"WHA!" He shrieked as Edward suddenly clobbered the wounded Cowboy, and crashed on top of him happily, grabbing two fist fulls of hair and shaking him.

"YHAY!" She cheered, rattling his screaming head in her exuberance as Spike clawed back trying to free himself- maybe even kill himself in the process seeing as he might find it a kinder escape. To make his already painful matters worse, poor Ein had gotten dragged along with her and was wedged between them both, his nose directly in Spike’s face as he howled in protest.

Make.

Spike gave out strangled cries of anger as Edward happily stood up- ON TOP of his chest- and used him as a trampoline to flip over the couch. The Earth Hacker landed on the floor at the head of couch and ran off laughing cheerfully, making weird airplane noises with her arms outstretched at her sides.

That left Spike lying there in psychological shock with Ein on top of his chest.

Ein slowly stood up and marched over Spike to stand on his good shoulder and the Data dog peered down at him as Spike’s eyes slowly shifted behind the mysterious lenses to stare directly at him.

Apparently the murderous glare he gave Ein was enough to persuade the dog to move along because he immediately jumped off of Spike to clatter around the table, leaving the prone form of the cowboy lying stretched out on the couch.

Once everything was gone, Spike lie there feeling rather ill. His head felt twice its normal weight and he was a bit nauseated by the pain.

So, Spike lifted his good arm and slid his hand into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lamely sticking it into his mouth. The yellow tint to his vision was a bit odd and throwing him off slightly since the Bebop’s drab walls where now a disgusting happy bright color.

Pain.

Fire.

Unbearable.

Weight.

"Shit." He groaned, rolling over- cigarette still tightly clutched in his teeth- as he hit the soft wall of the back of the couch and gripped his head. That inferno in his mind was almost driving him to TEARS and Spike was not a man who cried over pain. It was forty times worse then a hang over.

As he lay there in utter misery, holding onto his head with his fingers exploring the edges of the lenses, his legs stretched out and his feet bumped into something on the end of the couch.

He opened his eyes once more- frowning when he realized over a mental review- that he hadn’t noticed anything at the end of the couch, and griped the top edge of the couch to sit up ever so slightly to peer over his wounded shoulder that was wrapped in bandages.

On the end of the couch- the lenses light up brighter yellow and focused in on his legs where his socked feet had hit a briefcase. It was sitting on the end of the couch near the armrest, burnt black in a light coating of charcoal. Plastic was melted and fused with duct tape onto its sides from whatever fire it had obviously been placed in, and the handle itself was hanging off on one rung pathetically.

Spike temporarily forgot about his pain- wondering if he was just flat out losing his mind, but when he squinted at it harder, he decided he was truly seeing that.

He rolled back on his side, and closed his eyes- mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do- and he reached up with his good arm, holding onto the couch and pulling himself up into a sitting position. When he did so, his temporary amnesia about his head pain came crashing back in full force with twice as much vengeance as the ants shrieked and clawed, burring and tearing into his brain inches deeper then on the surface.

"Ugh!" Spike grunted, holding onto his hair as he steadied his swimming vision. The Bebop suddenly looked a lot…more unsteady, and he was going to fall back down when he remembered through his blur of technological haze when he remembered the briefcase.

And Spike’s curiosity ALWAYS overrode pain.

After all, pain was just life.

Spike steadied his breathing, and twisted back around so that he was merely sitting with his legs out in front of him. He blinked at the briefcase.

He leaned forward, his shaking hands grazing the ashy case- barley able to make it from the pain in his head since the motion sent the room spinning but his determination kept him going.

That and a sneeze.

Because when Spike let out a sneeze, the motioned pushed him forward and his hands grabbed onto the case, leaning back with the treasure now held in his hands.

"Heh heh." Spike chuckled proudly, and he examined the case, trying to find the locks. He frowned when he saw that they where melted over each other, fused together- making the case impossible to open.

Oh well. When there’s a will. There’s a way!

Spike quickly looked around to make sure nobody was watching, and then he reached behind him to where he knew his gun was and pulled it out. Clicking the gun ready, Spike closed his eyes and pointed it at the glazed locks, and pulled the trigger.

BAM BAM BAM!

The gun fired and the bullets slammed into the case, embedding into the melted locks. He winced and his brain protested each loud noise, but on the third and final bullet- the locks snapped off the case completely with a ZINNNG!

Opening his eyes, Spike looked down and grinned to himself, cocking the gun back onto safety and re-holstering it away. His hands where shaking from the loud sounds that his mind could barley handle, but he ripped the locks off and pulled at the melted plastic, that last part taking a few more seconds because the plastic was melted.

Instead, what lie folded inside was a weird looking puppet-dummy like doll.

Spike stared at it for a moment, the reached inside- pulling the doll out, unfolding with the movement and held it in front of him staring at the weirdest creation he had ever seen.

The doll was made out of technology metal in the fashion of a marionette doll- minus the strings, or so it seemed. He was about three feet big, wearing dark blue and black his costume in the fashion of a jester in a King’s court. He had on dark blue pants, or shorts really with black pants under the shorts that covered his skinny legs. Around his waist he wore one of those puffy waist things people in Shakespeare plays wore, striped into slightly lighter blue and black patterns. Around the upper portion of his body he wore a baggy dark blue shirt with long oversized sleeves, in the front of which stopped at the middle of his fingers- his hands of which where gloved in black leather gloves. The back of the sleeves dropped and widened into a point behind his hands the point practically reaching to his knees.

Over his strange shirt, he wore another with complicated vests that had hundreds of golden bells that jingled when he moved. Around his weird oval shaped face he wore a black cloth mast like the one Zorro use to wear. On his head he wore a funky hat, tons of black and blue dread locks dangling around it’s face each lock holding a little bell on it, the bottom of the hat hugged around his head.

The real killer was his shoes though. They where dark blue as well, rolled around his ankles but curled toward him at his toes in a curly Q, the tips of which each held a little bell.

It was also the weirdest thing that Spike had ever seen in his entire life.

"What the hell is this thing?" He demanded out loud as he stared at it. Spike shook the doll, the bells jingling like Christmas.

It resembled an old Earth puppet called a Dummy.

He frowned, wondering if it was mechanical or something that had caused the sounds he thought he had heard coming from the case but the stupid thing’s head just flopped back and forth like a dead fish, jingling and jingling.

Spike turned the doll around and inspected it’s back, trying to find a pull string. There was one but it resembled that of a headphone plug, and when he pulled at the sting it didn’t do anything. When he flipped it around once more- it’s mouth fell open revealing a CD slot and he gripped the thing by its neck as he used one hand to pull open the small mouth.

There WAS a disk inside! It was small, about the size of a quarter but it quiet clearly stood out among its mouth shining in the light.

Spike tapped on the disk, and then frowned when it still didn’t do anything. He slowly pulled his finger out of the mouth, then pushed it closed, sliding the slot closed.

THAT did something. Because as soon as it closed, a low humming sound from inside the doll vibrated as it activated and it’s weird computer imaged eyes lit up in the glass sockets. Its eyes where bright green, the white parts not white but black.

"HIYA!" It bellowed out- it’s mechanical mouth moving. It’s voice sounding EXSTATIC to be alive.

Spike jumped, surprised by the sudden bellowing happy-voice; but he nearly dropped the doll but managed to hold onto its arms as he stared.

"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, to fetch a pail of water! Then he fell and had a great fall, POP goes the weasel!" It screamed out- teeth grindingly cheerful- it’s head bobbing back and forth as it rattled out the wrong lines to the poem.

Oh god. It was a Tickle Me Elmo doll- with the obnoxious level upgraded by nine.

The cigarette in Spike’s mouth sagged as he stared at the doll without much expression.

"Penny for a spool of thread! They both fell down and Jack broke his crown, and all the kings horses and all the Kings men couldn’t put the poor weasel back together again!" It sang out, it’s arms waving like a birds as it chirped.

"Those are the wrong words stupid." Spike told it and sighed.

Okay. Curiosity SO not worth the end result.

"Who are you?" It asked cheerfully, grabbing onto the ends of its dread lock hat, and pulled giving Spike the biggest dippiest smile that was as bright as a light bulb.

"Spike Spiegel." Spike told it dully around the smoke as he chewed on the end of the cigarette thoughtfully, talking to it for lack of anything better to talk to at the moment.

"Hi ya Spike!" It exclaimed happily. For a moment the big drippy eyes floating up to stare at the lenses over his eyes. It was for a brief seconds, but Spike swore he saw the things computerize eyes widen in surprise then go back to it’s glazed stupid cute look and they looked at him directly.

"Do you want to be my friend?" It asked cheekily, it’s mechanical hands grabbing the sides of its mouth and stretching its mouth out the size of a plate as it grinned.

"Not even if you where the last intelligent life form on the face of the galaxy." Spike told it.

Annoyed, Spike threw the useless toy down over the side of the couch to clatter on the floor by the coffee table. Once it clunked he fell back down on his back and sighed.

"Owie!" The doll yelped. Then- "Jack ass!"

Spike froze, (Did I just hear that?) then slowly rolled onto his wounded shoulder- ignoring the slight pain- and stared over the side of the couch down at the doll where it lie in a mangled position on the floor.

It’s computerized eyes- that had been looking at the ceiling- slowly turned back to Spike and blinked back at him. It plastered that same goofy grin on it’s face- it’s head popping up at the prospect of a friend.

Spike gave it a beady-eyed look, slowly going back to lie on the couch, pondering this latest mental voice development.

Without warning, the stupid things head popped up near his own, and when he turned he saw the thing at eye level- grinning like an idiot.

"WHOA!" Spike yelled, pulling upright shocked to surprised to pay any attention to the pain in his head. The Doll happily lay its hands onto the seat of the couch, and hoisted himself up onto the seat and threw his arms out wide to bade a rather shocked Spike hello.

"COME ON!" It said cheerfully. "Be my friend!"

"Drop dead!" Spike exclaimed, and reached behind him- de-holstering his gun and he aimed the weapon’s muzzle tip directly between its eyes, already thoroughly sick of this useless interactive creation.

The dolls smile never wavered, as it’s green eyes crossed to peer at the muzzle. Then the doll did something highly un-expected just as Spike’s finger began to tightened on the trigger.

It smiled at him, and promptly stuck it’s finger in the gun muzzle.

Spike stared in utter shock at the action.

"Let go!" He demanded.

"No!" It chirped obnoxiously.

Spike’s eyes narrowed behind the lenses as he glared. He wasn’t sure if this whole…rebellious action thing was a part of it’s programming but it sure was annoying as hell. So Spike twisted the gun downward- twisting it’s finger and it shrieked in surprise as he grabbed it by it’s neck and pulled it at eye level with him. It’s belled feet kicked wildly as it waved its arms panicked.

"Whoa there!" It yelped, but just as Spike was about to start squeezing it’s life out of it’s body and pop it’s head, a thin figured shadow from above him loomed over him from the railing behind the couch, taking the bounty hunter a moment to register the changing shade of yellow.

"Well well well. If it isn’t our local crowning Sleeping beauty all woken up and refreshed to a brand new day. Wonderful tea parties, playing with dollies…" Faye Valentine commented as she stretched her perfect body, her arms over her head as she looped her hands behind her hair and leaned her hip against the railing. Spike and the doll looked upward at the new arrival and she smirked down at them.

"Having fun Princess?" She asked sweetly.

Oh great, this is just what I need.

"I’d rather be the sleeping princess then the Wicked Witch of the West, MISS. Valentine." Came Spike’s scathing comeback as he glared at her.

Faye chuckled as she rested her elbows on the edge of the rail and looked back down at him.

"Its about time you woke up." She said disinterested as she knelt down on one knee examining her manicured nails. "You’ve been sleeping for the past day and a half."

Spike’s eyes widened in shock as he forgot about the doll and simply let it drop from his hand.

"A day in a half!" He cried.

"OUCH! Hey! What gives here-" He vaguely thought he heard the doll protest, but instead he rolled on his own elbows and stared upward at her in confusion as Faye continued as she examined her nails.

"Uh huh." She said. "Jet thought you had slipped into a coma and we where going to take you to a hospital in a few hours."

"Why?" Spike asked, feeling a bit disorientated. He never really gave too much thought on how long he had been asleep, had simply thought it a few hours. The sudden time differential was confusing his already aching mind.

"I’ve been hurt worse. No big deal." He said, the ach in his shoulder glowing more to his attention as he said that, his right hand clutching at the bandages and he rolled his shoulder experimentally.

It hurt but nothing that would require a hospital.

"Not for you’re shoulder you lunk head, for you’re head." Faye said as she peered down at the bounty hunter.

"My head?" Spike asked. (It DID feel like his brain has exploded, maybe something much more serious had happened to him then he realized.)

Faye sighed, and she lifted her arm up- fishing around in the hidden pocket of her red coat underneath her arm until she pulled out a hand held mirror. Un-folding it, she held the open mirror out over his face for him to see his new head accessory.

Spike stared at the pooling reflective surface shocked. The yellow lenses extended over his eyes away from the actual optical unit by an inch like a protective bubble around his eyes. The lenses themselves extended down from a blue fiberglass frame that was framed by golden wire, wrapping around his forehead and behind his ears around his head completely. From above where the lenses extended down from that band, the band itself extended away from his temples about two inches, revealing two nodes conduits where he could see silver needles injected into his temples where the nodes centered around. The fiberglass and yellow lenses themselves where lightly glowing internally from its circuits, blue and yellow light surrounding almost outlining where it was attached to his head like a halo.

It was also heavy, and the obvious source of Spike’s excruciating headache and increase in head weight.

"What… the hell… is this?" Spike pronounced slowly, reaching up for the mirror. Faye gave it to him and he took it, holding the cool surface of the compact closer to his face as he examined the surface.

"You don’t know?" Faye asked.

"Nope." Spike said as his fingers fluttered up and gently traced along the rims of the device. He closed his eyes, allowing his fingers to explore the foreign object- and they trailed along until they reached the needles themselves where they injected into his temples. His fingertips trailed along the injection point on his skin, and suddenly he could feel a piercing pain on his skin and felt cool slick liquid. When he opened his eyes, he saw that his fingers where coated in blood and when he peered at the mirror he saw the red slimy liquid running down the side of his face from their entry point.

Double great.

"You. The knight they need to get the talisman back from is you."

At his side, two gloved hands slammed onto the seat of the couch and the doll pulled itself back to it’s feet, wobbling as it grabbed onto it’s hat and it steadied itself, glaring at Spike.

"He told me a story." Spike said quietly as the light of the car playing across Puck filled his vision. Faye looked down and blinked when Spike allowed the compact mirror to clatter down to the ground- the doll looking at the floor at it. When she looked at his face he was a million miles away in thought, but looking at her.

"What?" She asked.

"Marrow. I mean, Puck." Spike said. "He told me a story when I went to bring him down. I think it was a fairy tale or something."

"I know lots of fairy tales!" The doll offered and it was ignored as Spike sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the couch so that he was sitting up properly. His hands rubbed at his burning head as he tried to think.

The doll reached up and tugged on the pocket of his pants.

"I know lots of stories." It repeated.

"What’s a story have to do with that thing on you’re head?" Faye asked, climbing to her feet as she leaned over the railing- peering down at his green hair.

"I don’t know." Spike said. "I think it’s important."

He struggled to remember what Puck had told him through the haze of red pain throbbing in his skull, hovering just behind his eyes.

"Once upon a time there was a King. He was a powerful King and he commanded a Council of wizards." Spike recited out loud.

"Then one day the King died!" The doll chirped cheerfully.

Spike gave a start when those where the exact words that he was hearing inside his memory and he turned to stare at the Doll that blinked back and clicked his fingers together, the bells on its cloths and hat and shoes jingling lightly.

"I know lots of stories!" The doll repeated cheerfully, throwing its arms out and spinning in mindless circles happily.

"What is that thing?" Faye asked as she stared at the doll as it spun around.

"The latest thing since kids in interactive annoyances." Spike answered dully. Suddenly the doll latched onto his leg in a happy hug and Spike let out a yelp, waving his foot, trying to ward it off.

"Spike’s my friend!" The doll chirped up to a smirking Faye.

"Aw. How sweet." She cooed down.

"I am NOT!" Spike snapped, shaking his foot in the attempt to dislodge the nuisance. "Stop saying that!" He grabbed the things funky hat and pulled, finally getting it off, holding it- the doll still grinning like a moron- a few feet away from him.

"What story are those lines from?" He demanded, shaking it slightly, rattling the bells as it jingled like a sleigh.

"Are you going to be my friend?" It asked innocently, batting its huge drippy eyes at him hopefully.

"Drop dead!" Came the charming reply.

"Then I’m not going to tell you!" He huffed, and then stuck his tongue out at Spike, wiggling his mechanical fingers at him like a five year old.

Spike got so angry he turned as purple as Faye’s hair, and once more pointed his gun at the doll- FULLY prepared to fire and was going when Faye’s voice interrupted him.

"It’s a story by Sir Arthur Joslin Dales." Faye said downward. "He was a old Earth writer in the Renaissance period that wasn’t really well known."

Spike stopped his pre-murder attempt, and turned to look at the Bounty hunter Cowgirl as Faye walked down the stairs into the Bebop’s living room area, yawning. Spike dropped the doll with an "OAF!" from the toy.

"How do you know that?" Spike demanded as Faye sat down on the coffee table, crossing her legs to sit in the lotus position.

"It’s just a old bedtime story. A fairy tale. Edward has a ton of the old Earth stories downloaded on her computer. I found some when I was using it, and kinda got engrossed. It’s a really bad story." She said, looping her fingers together and resting her elbows on her knees, resting her chin in her fingers as she looked at him.

"Oh. Well how dose it go? I only heard a few lines about a Council, Knight, and Kings before I…uh." Spike voice trailed off as he tried to remember. Almost unconsciously his left hand griped into a fist as his foggy brain struggled to remember what had happened to him.

"Before I can’t remember anymore." He finished.

Faye sighed dramatically, leaning back.

"You know, normally I would charge you a fee for this information if I didn’t feel so sorry for you." She advised and Spike stuck his own tongue out at her. "Anyway!" Faye said, reaching over and plunking the cigarette out of his mouth. Faye pulled her own lighter and lit the stick of nicotine and Spike watched with an open mouth as she smoked HIS cigarette.

Faye smirked at him and blew out a caressing tentacle of smoke at his face. "The story was called "The Toy Maker" and was never completed."

"Why?" Spike asked through gritted teeth as he tried to ignore the smoke and concentrate on his current situation.

"Dunno. Just wasn’t." She said shrugging. "The story is a really weird one anyway. Nothing in particular stuck in my mind about the story. I think it was about the Toy Maker and this special doll he created for the Council of Wizards to hold their Kings Spirit because their King was ill and dying, but in order to perform the spell, they needed to create a special talisman or something to trap his soul when he died before it went to the Other Realm."

Spike’s hand unconsciously trailed up to his head as he listened to Faye, and his fingers trailed along the glowing edges of the wire frame. Something was nagging in the back of his burning mind about this, because he knew that some sort of clue was in that story- but he didn’t know what it was without reading the complete version.

He didn’t notice the doll- which has been standing near his legs when he dropped it- pipe up happily, and the Doll started to tap on his knee with on finger; trying to gain Spike’s attention.

Spike studiously ignored the Interactive nuisance as he struggled to recall what had happened to him when he confronted Puck.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Ta-

"WHAT!" Spike bellowed, his patience snapping as he jerked over and glared at the obnoxious creation, SERIOUSLY regretting his past curiosity as to what was in that weird suitcase.

"Sir Arthur Joslin Dales was accused of being a spy in the late 16^th century. He was living at Castle Brunosfeild, and the Barron of the castle- who was insane- believed that Sir Dales was sending secret messages to his enemies through his stories. So, because of his rich status- he had Sir Dales executed in the middle of Town Square. They hung him upside down from a tree and slowly bleed him to dead by allowing dogs to attack him." The Doll informed him helpfully.

Faye and Spike stared then looked at each other.

"Tough crowd." Spike commented and she nodded. He returned his attention to the doll. "How do you know that?" He demanded.

"I KNOW LOTS OF STORIES!" It squealed happily, starting to repeat the same process of spinning in circles. But before he could, Spike put the gun’s muzzle on top of his head- stopping the Interactive Top’s rotation.

"Okay you obnoxious little story storage unit, how did the story with the Toy Maker go?" He asked, hooking the muzzle around on of the Dolls vests and lifting the doll into the air like a worm on a hook. (Pretty accurate description really.)

The doll hung there, blinking back at him with that same dammed happy-cute expression on its face.

"Are you going to be my friend?" It asked happily, kicking and swinging in circles in the air, grabbing onto the curly end on his shoe as he spun like a windsock.

Faye almost choked with laughter on the smoke she inhaled from her cigarette at the murderous look on Spike’s face as he glared at the doll.

Spike knew he would regret this… but the shrieking agony of his head reminded him that either death- or a lifetime of annoyances from this thing was the only thing that could fix this situation.

This was a VERY hard choice.

"Fine." Spike grinded out between clenched teeth as he glared at it. "I’ll be you goddamn, mother freaking BEST friend if you TELL ME THE FLIPPING STORY!" He roared, shaking the doll.

"YHAY!" The doll cheered happily, and swung its legs up, wrapping them around a surprised Spike’s arm, and hugging him with his arms and legs like a Lemur Monkey. "I have a new best friend! YHAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!" It cheered happily.

"ARG!" Spike roared, shaking his arm furiously, trying once more to dislodge the doll form his arm.

Faye was laughing hysterically as Spike tried to shake himself free, and she ended up falling off the table.

She sat there on the floor laughing hysterically as Spike furiously shook his arm, trying to dislodge the Doll.

"GET OFF OF ME!" He roared.

"I have a new friend!" The Doll squealed happily, thrilled beyond belief.

Okay, Spike’s previous lists of "Things-he- couldn’t-stand" had just upgraded from 3 to 4. Now, he could no longer stand pets, children, women with attitude, and TOYS THAT TALKED!

"GET! OFF! OF! ME!"

It didn’t look good.

Generally when a MRI heat scans where run; the image played back was a colorful head scanned pitcher of the brain. The Brain would have been highlighted in different colors, blue for the problem areas, orange for the doormat areas, and red for the active ones. There was green as well but the green was a color that showed up around the brain representing the brain fluid around the mind.

When a person was healthy, then there would be very many red areas on the brain, spotted with orange. The colors all fluxated and pulsed with life in the general brain electronics much like a heart did when it pumped blood. (The aspect for the brain being pretty much the same with the electronically impulses that powered the organ.) With each electrical pulse given, data on the condition of the brain was transmitted

But Spike’s scan was horrible wrong.

Instead of the colorful image of a healthy brain his scan was distorted. When the scan was run, Jet thought originally at least the frontal lobe of his mind would be coated blue as a problem area because the needles had been inserted in his temples. At the worst, since Spike hadn’t regained consciousness- Jet thought that there would be minor damage that would require some surgery at the worst and at the best at least a delicate removal of the needles.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Sitting at the main console on the Bebop’s Bridge, the stars from Earth’s night sky glittered like dew on the window as Jet studiously ignored the beautiful sky as he stared worriedly at the scan. His cybernetic fingers tapping the arm rest of his seat as his eyes reviewed once more of the pitcher.

Instead of all the medical colors and information that the MRI provided generally, Spike’s scan was deformed horribly. Brown webbing had- when Jet clicked on an internal data scan- weaved inside the delicate inside of his brain, wrapping around nerves and veins. Black veins where extended from the webbing, pushing and pulsating through the cracks of the mind. One the surface of the brain scan, horrible sliver almost wire like threads where slowly threading their way across his brain’s lobes. The green fluid around his brain was distorted orange with spikes of red- signaling activity that should not have been there around his brain.

All of this horrible images where due to the two needles and whatever device was in his head now. The needles where embedded to two central lines in the brain. (I.E. the Brain had four various stems inside of the organ that pulsed the electronically impulses and regulated them.) They needles had disrupted the electronic impulses horrible, but not so much it had made him a vegetable. Instead, most of the central webbing was sprouting from those stems. The needles where ever so slight pushing in and out slowly, - not so much as the naked eye would detect it- pumping out a strange black like fluid into the stems, feeding it through the webbing as the obvious serum of whatever mutation he was witnessing.

And this strange…brain warping had only begun around his frontal lobe. It had been a day and a half and only a few inches looked like this, but thin threads where already rooting deeper into his mind, seeds sown for more growing.

This wasn’t going to be something removed easily; it was going to require EXTENSIVE brain surgery to remove and clean out. And even if Jet could AFFORD a procedure like that, the strange webbing was so…interracially weaved in his mind the surgery alone would most likely leave Spike with sever and total brain damage without a doubt.

"Shit." Jet sighed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He hadn’t realized that when he had first brought Spike back to the ship that this deceive was such a threat to the young cowboy. The needles themselves had caused him some concern, but he had chalked it up to a program downloading into his mind that Puck had gotten around his head when Spike was down. (Downloading programs into a brain wasn’t that difficult for a computer expert like Puck.)

But this…this was beyond computers. It was literally genetically warping his brain. For or into what he didn’t know since it wasn’t computer related in anyway.

And this time Spike wasn’t getting out of this with a graze or a slight wound that could be stitched up. Without a doubt he would be ending up dead or severely retarded due to this thing.

Those where the only two options. And for once Jet found himself hoping for something he never thought he think for anyone would in a million years.

He hoped Spike would never wake up from his coma.

He felt horrible for thinking that, but looking at the scan helped a bit. He would try everything in the meantime to help his younger partner- starting with finding Puck, but this looked to…awful to live with. Spike had to be either Spike like he was or it just wasn’t living for him. He knew Spike would think that to.

Jet sighed. "This is just great." He muttered, flicking the cigarette ashes off to the side.

"Three times Twix, five times five, nine plus three equals four by seven, a hundred time one equals EIN!" Edward Wong Tupluskvy the 4^th happily sang out as from behind Jet the Bridge hatch opened and the strange Earth Hacker came cartwheeling into the Zero Gravity Bridge of the bebop, swinging around with Ein as she literally bounced off the walls. As she did so, jumping back and floating through the air, she flipped the Data Dog through the air of the Bridge as the dog furiously ran futilely in the air, trying to balance himself in vain.

Jet turned around as Ed came into the room just in time to get a face full of dog, as Ein slammed straight into his face.

"PLOURCH!" Jet yelped, trying to bat the dog away from his face in surprise. Jet managed to shove Ein off of him, sending him careening off as he straightened up.

"What now Ed?" Jet asked dully, turning back around to sink into his seat, looking at his crushed cigarette sadly. (A damn fine smoke shot to hell.)

CLOINK!

"Ack!" Jet gasped as Ed’s head slammed on top of his as she floated above him to peer at the screen he was reading from.

"Oh la la. Funny pitcher." Ed commented as she peered at the screen thoughtfully as Jet struggled to free his head. Edward abruptly shoved her face forward so she was nose-to-nose with the screen and peered at the image.

Edward titled her head as she looked at the strange configuration of the strange webbing, her computer-thinking mind running through the strange pattern. Suddenly it hit her where she had seen it before and was about to ask Jet when Jet spit out his smoke, and grabbed into Edward’s face, pushing her back up and glaring at her as he rubbed his abused head.

"Just what do you want Edward?" He asked annoyed, in absolutely no mood for this right now.

"Spike persons awake!" Edward cheered as she spun in circles, forgetting about the pretty pitcher.

Jet sighed. (Leave it to Spike to be stubborn enough to wake up from a debilitating coma when it would just be better for him to sleep it off. For a guy who spends nearly 18 hours of the day sleeping anyway, a coma should have been a cakewalk!) Oh well. Spike never did what he was told anyway why start now on the brink of death?

"How’s he doing?" He asked, leaning back in his chair and watching Edward spin about over to where she had left her self-named lap top computer ‘Tomato’. She happily used her feet to pick it up, spinning the computer about as she floated above the keyboard to type, her computer goggles sliding over her yellow eyes.

"Spike-person is feeling better but wants to hear a story! So Edward is going to find the one written by the dead man that ‘Sprite-boy’ told him so he can read it!" Edward said, turning on the goggles as they lit up, static filling the bubble portion of the glasses.

Was it just Jet, or did that answer make absolutely no sense whatsoever?

That took a moment to run through Jet’s internal ‘Edward-filter’ but is still didn’t make much sense.

"What the heck dose that mean?" Jet demanded.

Edward happily straightened her arms out in mentally preparation, serving the inside of the computer Net, wadding mentally thought the colors and smiley faces inside until she came up to her Story Files. It was quick and easy and with the clicks of en-coded happy faces, brought up her files.

"Fairy tales from days of old, old, old, bring be the up access file of the one that was never told!" She intoned dramatically, and giggled as she hit the keyboard.

With a humming FWOOSH the file that contained the story Spike was previously speaking off was brought up on screen and floated among all the miscellaneous data.

"TA DA!" She cheered.

Jet frowned, unhooking his legs from underneath the console, and pushing his body into the air. Being experienced with no gravity, the older bounty hunter swam up next to the Computer Hacker. As he steadied himself next to her, he looked at the screen closely.

It was a fairy tale. (?)

The Toy Maker

By: Sir Arthur Joslin Dales

Owning and building toys in his own factory named ‘Peko’s Toys’ located directly in the center of town- Hans, with the help of his apprentice- would use his special power to make all his toys come alive and play just like real people.

One day, this Toy Maker was crafting a very special doll in the back room of his store. Before he could finish, his apprentice came running into the room to tell him of a Wizard that had come to their shop to speak with him. Sure enough, the bell above the door ran as the Wizard came into the store.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

When the special Toy Maker went out to his main store to talk with the Wizard, the Wizard- also a special man named One- told him that he was the first member of the Council of Wizards that governed all magical matter in the land and protected the people from the Dragons and enemies.

One told Hans that their King, Lord Edward the 7^th was ill and would die in a matter of days. The Council did not wish for him to die and they told the Toy Maker that in order for him to live against they needed to trap his soul in another vessel.

Hans agreed to create a doll worthy or housing their lord’s spirit but told One in order for them to place King Edwards soul inside the doll, they needed a special talisman to place on his chest before he died, so that when he took his last breath- and his soul escaped his body- the talisman would trap his soul in the realm of the living before it escaped to The Other Side fully.

The only one that One knew possessed such a powerful talisman was a hidden Knight by the name of Lord Dales, who was a traveler among the stars in the sky and rarely seen.

One agreed that his Council would retrieve the magical talisman. He would send out the Council’s monstrous servant the De’vor- a demon dog that could track down anything- to locate Lord Dales so that they may have the talisman.

Hans told them that he need not only three days to make the doll before King Edward died and they needed the talisman before then or

"Where’s the rest?" He demanded.

Edward shrugged again. "That’s all that was written for the story. It was never complete and Author-man died before he finished writing it."

What dose this have to do with Spike and his current situation? Jet wondered as he looked back at the screen, his eyes scanning the story again.

Behind them, Ein finally managed to grab onto the seat belt of Jet’s seat where his console was with his teeth as he floated by once more after bouncing off the window. (Unnoticed by all.) The Data Dog clawed at the seat with his stubby paws, gripping his way down the seat back until he managed to sit down on the seat, fully planted there and no longer floating.

Ein breathed a sigh of relief, his ears sagging from the tension. When he looked over at Jet and Edward, he barked for attention but was ignored and simply waved off by Jet- who shook his cybernetic hand at him disinterested.

Ein frowned, whining slightly as he turned and looked at the glowing screen. The Data dog perked up as he stared at the image of the MRI scan and he huffed slightly in curiosity. The Dog slowly climbed up to rest his paws on the console lip and he peered at the image and huffed once more- this time in a gasp, recognizing the pattern.

He looked back at Jet and Edward once more and barked repeatedly, this time in distress.

"Can it Ein!" Jet called back annoyed.

Ein growled annoyed and looked back at the screen worriedly. Ein was much smarter then you’re average dog, and unknowing to most people- smarter then most humans. HE recognized the patter of conduits webbing and weaving on the scan in front of him and knew that it was vitally important someone listen to him.

But how do you tell someone something this important when you where a Dog?

Gandolf was lying outside on the roof on the main portion of the dome building, the only light illuminating anything in the darkness emanated from the full moon that glowed softly in the sky above.

As he lay on the glass, higher then anyone ever got without being in a starship- his gloved finger trailed along the starry sky, tracing the constellation Cancer with the lightest touch. His glowing wolf eyes gleamed in the light of the moon as he stared up at the sky.