Finally! It's the sequel you've been waiting for! Unfortunately, I won't be posting it all at once, for I am still not done. It's a work in progress! Please stay tuned and enjoy!

Spike's eyes blinked open as he took in his surroundings. Sprawled out on his bed he lie awake, glancing around his room for an indication of time. Shit, he thought as his eyes rested on a clock on his bare dresser reading 10:48. Overslept again. Opening his door and stepping into the hall, he was ambushed by the voice of Faye Valentine.

"Rise and shine, Lunkhead!" she sang as she gleefully strutted past him and down the corridor toward her room. He eyed her white bathrobe and the pastel towel wrapped around her raven hair. Scratching his abdomen through his white t-shirt, he drowsily watched Faye's damp skin glisten in the artificial light. His expression remained unchanged as he grabbed his towel and slumped off in the opposite direction.

Stepping into the bathroom, Spike threw his towel on a hook. He stood in front of the bland, rectangular mirror and pulled his shirt over his head, ignoring his bedraggled reflection. Clothes discarded on the floor next to the shower, Spike stepped inside, thinking about when he'd last seen Faye. She's just a little too chipper this morning, he thought to himself. That can only mean one thing. He turned the knob cautiously. "Gah!" He cringed as icy water tumbled from the showerhead and attacked his exposed skin. No more hot water.

Jet stood in the kitchen sipping a steaming cup of coffee as Edward sat on the counter swinging her spindly legs. Faye sat casually at the kitchen table, enjoying her own coffee and Ein lie comfortably beneath her chair. The quartet looked up as a slightly irritated Spike Spiegel entered the room. The collar of his pale lemon shirt sat popped around his neck as his thin navy tie dangled freely from it. "What took you so long, Spike?" Jet bellowed his vexed tone. "Don't you know we're going after a huge bounty today?" Spike grunted as he made a b-line for the coffee pot. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard, he poured. No seasonings; he liked it black. "Since we're all here now, I'll go over the information one more time," said Jet, eyeing as Spike took a seat across the table from Faye.

"Coffee?" inquired Faye with a smirk. "Didn't that nice, invigorating shower help you wake up at all?" she grinned.

"Fuck you, Faye," Spike mumbled from behind his coffee cup, less and less in the mood to talk. Faye giggled girlishly at his expense.

"You wish," she replied teasingly.

"Enough, you two!" Jet growled. "You're not exactly Miss Punctual yourself, Faye." Faye held her tongue, if only for the grain of truth in Jet's words.

"Who've we got this time?" Spike asked, calmly lighting a cigarette. All eyes were on Jet, who was leaning against the counter top, his muscular arms crossed over his chest.

"He's into the financial business. A guy named Vladimir Zahar." As he spoke, Ed placed her tomato computer on the table for Spike and Faye to see the offender. They peered at a gangly man with tanned skin and dark, stringy hair tied back and slicked, and large, dark eyes hidden behind thick prescription glasses. "This guy sneaks his way into the galactic banking systems and filters small amounts of money from random accounts into his own. That way he doesn't tip too many people off. It may have taken a while, but this guy's siphoned millions." Ed performed a wobbly handstand in the background, her singing being tuned out by the other crewmembers.

"Wow," stated Faye.

"Careful, Jet. Let's try not to give Little Miss Sunshine any ideas," cracked Spike, hooking a thumb at Faye. She sighed, narrowing her deep jade eyes.

"Been there, done that," she replied. Spike arched an eyebrow in her direction. Disregarding her remark, he refocused his attention on Jet again.

"So what's the bounty on this guy?" Spike inquired. "Sounds like a big enough offense." He took a carefree drag from his lit cigarette.

"Play our cards right and we're in for 75 million," was the bald man's reply. Faye's eyes glittered at the mention of the bounty figure. Spike turned his attention to her, not letting her reaction go unnoticed.

"Perfectly divisible by three," he said, aiming his sharp tone at the woman. Faye looked indignant. She opened her mouth to speak, but her quip was interrupted by Jet's further instruction.

"Ed's tracked down his next likely target bank." The girl appeared between the three bounty hunters at her computer again, gaining their somewhat undivided attention.

"Zahar will be at the First Galactic Bank of Neptune this time," Ed stated melodiously. "He's been hopping and stopping at each bank in the solar system in alphabetical order by planet. This makes it a ziggy zag pattern to follow. Hard to follow, hard to catch! According to records, his transactions are usually made around the hours of two and four o'clock, since most banks close at five." The child finished with a grin.

"That's weird," speculated Spike.

"Why wouldn't he make these transactions via internet?" Faye asked, picking up on Spike's suspicions.

"Online banking is so popular nowadays that most banks don't get very many customers in person at all," informed Ed merrily. "They're mostly deserted, except for the people who work there in case people do come in. The actual buildings are where all the hard copies and paperwork are stored. Going there makes it easier for him. He wouldn't be noticed by any civilians. Besides," she flashed her million-dollar smile. "He could probably do it online if he was a good hacker like Radical Edward!" Jet groaned at the redheaded child.

"Makes sense," stated Faye.

"Every transaction manually?" inquired Spike. "That sounds like too much work to me."

"Well then," answered Faye, "I guess it's a good thing you're not in the money siphoning business, isn't it?" Spike smirked.

"I could always get Ed to set it up for me," he said, roughing up the genius hacker's orange hair.

"We'll be landing on Neptune at around one o'clock," Jet informed. Spike peered onto Edward's computer screen for the time display. It was eleven fifty six. He sighed and finished off his cooling coffee, not quite cold enough yet to be disgusting.

The characters of Cowboy Bebop are property of Sunrise Inc, not me. No reason to sue me; I'm not really wirth it.