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momebieI wrote this at work. I like it. I have no where to post it. No one cares about Cowboy Bebop anymore. Whatever, you guys might like it. Short and angsty, just the way I like 'em. Let me know if you read it, yeah?
~*~
Spike stood on the corner, letting the droplets of rain run down his hair and into his face. Any harder, and it would have put out his cigarette. Just one more of life’s little tragedies. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled. The smoke lingered and condensed in the open space in front of him. The rain slowly washed it from the air. He breathed in deeply enjoying the smell of the smoke, and the beautiful wet, and the city. The city always smelled best before a job, perhaps it didn’t want his spirit, were he to die, to remember it for the shit hole it really was. Not that the city needed his favor anyway, there were enough ghosts in its alleyways. Some of them put there by him.
He took another drag of his cigarette, this time another smell filled the air. It was the smell of happiness and warmth, mixed with a tinge of sweat and doubt. He listened as the familiar footsteps approached. “When did you turn into a woman?” he asked, exhaling another doomed puff of smoke.
“Funny, very funny, as always,” Vicious stopped next to him on the corner and lit a cigarette of his own. Neither of them had smoked before joining the syndicate, but something about being confronted with your own mortality regularly made a man more likely to come to enjoy things he knew could kill him. It was a race to see who would take care of it first, the cigarettes, or himself.
“You’re late. You need to tell whoever that god awful stench belongs to that this business always comes first. She can wait.”
“What if I die here, Spike? What of her then?”
“What do you care? You’ve got what you needed for now. That’s the way you told me it was, right? Take what you can, while you can?”
Vicious smirked around the cigarette in his lips and nodded. Sodden ash fell to the sidewalk. Spike watched the small mound as it hit the cement and then washed even with the sediment in the gutter. “Do I sense some jealousy, my friend?”
“Hmmph,” Spike took a moment to be amused by the idea. “What is there to be jealous of? I get to see your awful mug more than I want.”
“I think you misunderstood.”
“I understood perfectly.”
They stood in the rain, smoking together, feeling the comfort and understanding that no woman, no one outside of the syndicate could give them. Vicious raised his wrist to check his watch, and dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk, crushing it with the toe of his boot. “It’s time.”
Spike nodded and dropped his own cigarette, leaving it to flare in the grayness. He followed Vicious across the street and pulled the gun from its holster as Vicious opened the door to the store front that was their target. A man inside shouted and sharp, dry gunfire startled the quiet sogginess of the rain. Spike paused before entering and took another deep breath. He had only been fooling himself earlier. The whole city smelt of pain and jealousy and death. He would do his job without thought and remorse; send more ghosts to populate the alleys. There was nothing beautiful about it.
~*~
In other news, the pretty, angsty boys have eaten my brain. Vash and Nicholas are fighting quietly in a corner while Spike quizzes Ed and Al on where they found such a hunk of junk, and exactly how much he can get them to let him have the scrap metal for. *sigh* Make the sickness end!!
Off to beta for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cock_a_snook!
Spike stood on the corner, letting the droplets of rain run down his hair and into his face. Any harder, and it would have put out his cigarette. Just one more of life’s little tragedies. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled. The smoke lingered and condensed in the open space in front of him. The rain slowly washed it from the air. He breathed in deeply enjoying the smell of the smoke, and the beautiful wet, and the city. The city always smelled best before a job, perhaps it didn’t want his spirit, were he to die, to remember it for the shit hole it really was. Not that the city needed his favor anyway, there were enough ghosts in its alleyways. Some of them put there by him.
He took another drag of his cigarette, this time another smell filled the air. It was the smell of happiness and warmth, mixed with a tinge of sweat and doubt. He listened as the familiar footsteps approached. “When did you turn into a woman?” he asked, exhaling another doomed puff of smoke.
“Funny, very funny, as always,” Vicious stopped next to him on the corner and lit a cigarette of his own. Neither of them had smoked before joining the syndicate, but something about being confronted with your own mortality regularly made a man more likely to come to enjoy things he knew could kill him. It was a race to see who would take care of it first, the cigarettes, or himself.
“You’re late. You need to tell whoever that god awful stench belongs to that this business always comes first. She can wait.”
“What if I die here, Spike? What of her then?”
“What do you care? You’ve got what you needed for now. That’s the way you told me it was, right? Take what you can, while you can?”
Vicious smirked around the cigarette in his lips and nodded. Sodden ash fell to the sidewalk. Spike watched the small mound as it hit the cement and then washed even with the sediment in the gutter. “Do I sense some jealousy, my friend?”
“Hmmph,” Spike took a moment to be amused by the idea. “What is there to be jealous of? I get to see your awful mug more than I want.”
“I think you misunderstood.”
“I understood perfectly.”
They stood in the rain, smoking together, feeling the comfort and understanding that no woman, no one outside of the syndicate could give them. Vicious raised his wrist to check his watch, and dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk, crushing it with the toe of his boot. “It’s time.”
Spike nodded and dropped his own cigarette, leaving it to flare in the grayness. He followed Vicious across the street and pulled the gun from its holster as Vicious opened the door to the store front that was their target. A man inside shouted and sharp, dry gunfire startled the quiet sogginess of the rain. Spike paused before entering and took another deep breath. He had only been fooling himself earlier. The whole city smelt of pain and jealousy and death. He would do his job without thought and remorse; send more ghosts to populate the alleys. There was nothing beautiful about it.
In other news, the pretty, angsty boys have eaten my brain. Vash and Nicholas are fighting quietly in a corner while Spike quizzes Ed and Al on where they found such a hunk of junk, and exactly how much he can get them to let him have the scrap metal for. *sigh* Make the sickness end!!
Off to beta for
cock_a_snook!
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no subject
Date: 2006-09-26 09:01 pm (UTC)This is very true, and I would like to improve. Plus, this has the ulterior motive of me finding an anime type voice for the original project I'm going to work on for Nano.
But it's ok, I know people are busy, I promise not to cry. :p
no subject
Date: 2006-09-27 06:01 pm (UTC)Do tell about being a bad fan! I realized I don't even know about the French manga's release in France -- though I used to swear to myself it'll never happen!
And I have to say that I love your layout and the pics on the left are amazing...
no subject
Date: 2006-09-27 06:19 pm (UTC)The original project, or non-fan fiction work of writing, that I am going to work on for something called National Novel Writing Month. I'm not sure if you're familiar with that or not. One of the american publishers put out a general call for romance type works with female heros written in a style that borrows from anime/manga. I got excited about that one. :p I'm not really a romance type of girl, but I think I could do it, so I'm going to try. For more on NaNo you can visit www.nanowrimo.org.
Thanks! That is the favorite of the headers I've made. It's a character from Trigun. :) And the pictures down the left are symbolic of writing projects I have going. I should probably change some of them, now that you mention it. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-09-27 06:49 pm (UTC)(and thanks your comment as for my English... I still need to improve, though...).
And good luck if you're to learn French one day! it's always so difficult to learn a new language when you don't have enough time... *sighs*
That's a great opportunity! I didn't know American publishers do that... I think it'd be a wonderful idea if they can do the same thing in France, too. But maybe they actually do it, and I haven't got a clue about it -- I'm not a plotter, or a writer for the matter! :)
As for the link you've given me, it doesn't work at all. :/ But when I checked on google, it did work! *puzzled*
And, oh, if you suddenly become rich, famous and such thanks to your writing, don't forget your Lj friends? *gggg*
no subject
Date: 2006-09-27 06:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-27 10:30 pm (UTC)Languages are hard when you have no time. I want to learn three, but it's going to take me forever. *head desk*
American publishers don't always do it, just every once in a while when they're thinking of trying to start a new line like that one is. Most of the time they won't even take unsolicited work so it's a Catch 22.
I highly doubt I'll get to be rich and famous this year, but if I do, I promise I would never forget you guys. :p You'd get to hear me whine about the voices in my head forever.
Sweet dreams doll!