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bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue · 3 months ago

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Beboptober 2024 Day 2: Crash

Thanks to @bebopcrew for the prompt list! This one takes place about ten years before the events of the series, and slightly before Spike joined the Syndicate—I used this timeline from The Cowboy Bebop Attic, which places Spike’s Syndicate years at about 2061-62 to 2068. This fic turned out WAY longer than I planned, and I stayed up WAY later to write it than I'd hoped, so apologies if some of it makes no sense at all, but I had fun with it!

Okay, so technically speaking, Spike didn’t have a real spaceship’s license yet. And technically speaking, this wasn’t even his ship. One could even say he’d stolen it. But did it really count when it was from the garage of one of those crazy Martian billionaires who probably had fifty identical, sleek and newly-purchased ships in their garage? They wouldn’t notice this one was missing at all.

Spike had engaged in petty thievery before, sure, but this was different. This was the big leagues. A ship of his very own—now that he’d wiped the tracking and identification as best he could with his shoddy, hodgepodge tech skills—opened up whole new worlds to him, literally. After seventeen years of being stuck on Mars, hopping ineffectually from city to city whenever he could hitch a ride, he’d crossed a Hyperspace Gate for the very first time and, after some annoying waiting, was by a whole new planet in a matter of minutes.

Once he arrived, it was an adventure in itself to try and navigate the overlarge ship past all the debris and space junk that circled Earth, almost like an old video game. And then he could see it, the pockmarked blue marble floating in space. A whole new planet. Although he was alone, he couldn’t help but give a low whistle at the sight. He wasn’t given to poetry, but he had to admit a sight like this would be breathtaking to anyone.

And the flying itself! Okay, so technically he’d never been in a ship’s cockpit before, but it wasn’t too hard to figure out the controls. He’d driven a car, and the mechanics of this weren’t too different. But flying? It was light-years away from driving.

He loved everything about it: the way the stars raced past him in the cockpit window, the whooshing sensation of freefall in his stomach as he dipped and glided and spun just for the hell of it, the way the ship responded beautifully to his every little touch to propel him faster and faster into the darkness as he whooped in delight. The way no one could find him or catch him way out here. It was freedom, so much more than he’d thought he’d had before on the streets, so much more than he’d even thought possible. It awakened dormant parts of him he didn’t even know existed.

It was bliss.

That is, until he pushed too hard and too fast—or maybe the dumb ship’s controls responded too well—and found he’d somehow fucked up. The ship was rapidly losing power and altitude, careening down towards Earth.

Shit, shit, shit! Spike wrenched at the controls and pushed frantically at all the buttons he could reach, pretty much at random, trying desperately to silence the beeping warnings that flashed all around him in the cockpit. And maybe it slowed down his entry speed a little. But it didn’t stop the warning signs from flashing faster and faster and more urgently, and for Earth’s surface to grow larger and larger below him. And eventually all Spike could do was curl up in the cushy pilot’s seat and brace for impact as best he could.

The ship crash-landed at what had to be a horrific angle, leaving a trail of cratered dirt and debris up until its final resting point. Rocks and detritus rained down, marring the ship’s perfect surface and adding another strain to the deafening noise. Airbags deployed all around Spike, burning against his skin. For the first few minutes, Spike wasn’t entirely certain he’d survived.

Figures. My first-ever real taste of freedom, and I almost die not even twenty-four hours in.

Well, if he really was dead, at least they couldn’t catch him for stealing that ship.

~~~~~

Of course, after a while Spike had to realize that he was, in fact, alive, and unfurl himself from the ruined cockpit to clean up his mess.

The trip had been pretty impulsive, and he didn’t know what, exactly, he’d been expecting to find on Earth, but he had expected to return to his home planet eventually. He knew that owning a spaceship of his own could open up a lot more opportunities to get money and power and a bit of food in his stomach. It could even make him look more attractive to some of the bigger crime syndicates on Mars, even if he still had to start out as a grub doing all the grunt work. At least they’d consider him.

But for that, his spaceship had to be working. And as he surveyed the ship, having extricated himself from the wreckage and now looking up at it with arms akimbo, he figured that his hodgepodge tech skills wouldn’t be of much help here at all.

At least it wasn’t on fire. Maybe a better mechanic could somehow revive it, even if they had to replace all its parts one by one, like that old Earth story about the wooden boat. It would be better than no ship at all, especially if it made him harder to catch by the guy he’d stolen the ship from.

He should be as destroyed as the ship, he thought. He really shouldn’t have survived that crash. Maybe he had a lucky star up there, somewhere, watching out for him.

Somehow, he doubted that.

There was only one thing he could do. He hated feeling dependent like this, and if it didn’t work pretty soon, he may as well pack up and set out on his own—find some decent food and shelter, try his luck on Earth, maybe eventually find a way back home, such as that home was. But for now, he let out a defeated sigh, leaned against the ship’s ruins, and held up one thumb.

He saw rockets taking off in the distance; he heard the distant purr of cars’ engines. There had to be someone willing to pick him up eventually and take him to a place where his ship could maybe get fixed. If his lucky star was still watching out for him. If it even existed at all.

~~~~~

“This isn’t getting fixed today, kid.”

“Whaddya mean?” Spike scowled at the mechanic—Doohan, according to his assistant who’d driven Spike here—an old, cantankerous-looking guy with goggles perched on top of his wild gray hair. Every part of his clothing was either singed or actively smoking. He’d thought a guy like this could bring his ship back to life right away, as if by magic.

Doohan was still peering around the ship with an appraising eye, examining the mangled remains of its dashboard, the hunks of metal that used to be its hull. “I can keep it here and modify it. Or, if it turns out to be truly useless, save it for scrap. But if you were planning to be out of here in an hour and race home on this pretty little number, that’s not happening.”

“But—but the person who drove me here, your assistant—Jimmy or something—he said you were the best mechanic this side of the planet. He said you could work miracles.”

The man snorted and turned away. “Flattery like that is exactly why he won’t last around here.”

Even though the news was a disappointment, Spike honestly kind of appreciated that Doohan wasn’t bullshitting him. And obviously, the guy knew ships. As Spike gazed around the hangar, he saw several ships of all sorts—some that must have been historical artifacts from the early days of hyperspace gates, some brand-new ones like the one Spike had just crashed—in varying states of repair. One, a half-finished model with a slender red body and a long nose, particularly caught his attention. Surprisingly, some sort of looked like what he had originally expected: old relics, nursed back to health. He wondered how many of those could actually fly. He wondered what it would feel like. Already, his hands itched for the controls of a spaceship again, any spaceship.

“It’s been through quite a crash,” Doohan said, squinting up at Spike from the other side of the ship. “Where’d you get a ship like this? Only to junk it up right away?”

Spike had long since learned that the best response to questions like this was to stay silent, so that’s what he did.

“Rather not say? Okay. What’d you do to crash it?”

Simple as possible. “I went too fast.”

Doohan grunted. “Seen that before. Teenage boys who think they know everything. They always think they’re invincible.”

Something about that smarted. It hit Spike in the chest, white-hot on his already-frayed nerves.

Doohan turned back to the wreckage. “They always eventually get cut down to size.”

Spike felt his hands involuntarily balling into fists.

“You think I’m some privileged little rich boy?” he said, and it came out as an unexpected growl. “I sure as hell know I’m not invincible. I’m from Mars, I just got here. I’ve got no family. I’ve been cut down to size plenty of times in my life.” His voice was getting louder, more insistent. “I need a ship, any ship. I can work off whatever debt I owe to you. But don’t go thinking I did this just for the hell of it!” His last words were a yell, echoing in the silence.

Doohan just grunted again, not looking up. Silence fell once again for a while as he fiddled with the inside of the ship, tinkering with his tools. Spike’s breaths came out shuddery, but slowing.

“I think something was fucked up with the accelerator,” Spike said, quieter this time. “It was my first time piloting a ship and I went through a Gate no problem, I could do loop-de-loops and shit, and I guess I went a little overboard. But I barely touched that pedal thing and next thing I knew I was crashing here. I think I could do better with another craft.” He looked up at Doohan, choosing his next words with caution. “Or if I could find out how this one worked. How ships work. And how to fly them for real.”

Doohan inspected a panel of metal sheetwork on the side of the ship, his face inscrutable.

“That was you,” he finally said. “Doing the loop-de-loops in the sky. That was you.”

“Uh, yeah.” Damn. Spike hadn’t been as surreptitious with that stolen craft as he thought.

“And you say that was your first time ever piloting a ship?”

“Yeah,” Spike said again.

Doohan made eye contact with Spike for the first time. “How’d you feel when you were up there?”

“Uhhh…good? Happy?” Dammit, Spike wasn’t good with talking about feelings or whatever, and Doohan looked thoroughly unimpressed with his attempts. He didn’t even really know why Doohan was asking about it, but he could tell there had been something different, something distinctive, about that feeling. He racked his brain for the right word to describe how it had felt, soaring through the stars.

“Free,” he finally said. “I felt free.” He cupped his hands as if around the controls in a ship’s cockpit, and he felt his eyes narrowing in determination. “I wanna feel that way again.”

Doohan nodded slowly, then put his hand on what used to be the hull of the ship. “New ships like this, they tend to be trigger-happy. They advertise responsiveness, they say they’re user-friendly, and then they go way too far with it.” Spike nodded. Reminded him of some people he knew back on Mars. “You’ve got some natural talent,” Doohan continued. “But if you want to learn how to fly a ship right, you have to know how it works. You either work for the machine, or it works for you.”

Spike nodded again, at first slowly, but then with more determination. He could do that. In fact, the thought excited him. Something to fill his days that wasn’t petty crime and rooting around for his next meal. Something that actually felt purposeful. Like he was born for it.

Doohan looked over the ships in the hangar, appearing contemplative. “Been working on fixing up that old MONO racer for a while now,” he finally said, gesturing to the red ship that had caught Spike’s attention earlier. “Now, get me a 3/8 gauge from the toolbox in my office.” He turned to the assistant, who’d been leaning against the car he’d driven Spike in and watching the conversation with interest. “Jimmy, you’re fired.”

“Aw, man,” the assistant said, staring down at his sneakers. “Mom’s gonna kill me.”

~~~~~

Spike had worked for Doohan for a few months now, learning the ins and outs of amateur spaceship repair, not to mention how to actually pilot different types of crafts so they wouldn’t crash. Over the course of weeks, they’d watched ships transform from beaten-up hunks of junk, or broken-down relics that belonged to a museum, to actually usable, sometimes even restored to their former glory. It was a hell of a hobby, but no one could say Doohan wasn’t passionate about it. He worked from sunup to long past sundown, through mealtimes and rock showers and explosions that signed off his eyebrows. And, Spike had to admit, it was gratifying seeing their progress every day and week, bit by bit.

Spike had memorized every tool Doohan owned, where to get or borrow the ones he didn’t, and which ones just flat-out didn’t exist. He was used to getting barked at by his boss, sent on so many impossible tasks and wild-goose chases that he could no longer count them, sometimes having sharp implements thrown at him. (He’d learned to only piss Doohan off when he was holding something soft like a newspaper.) But he’d managed to avoid getting unceremoniously fired, like poor Jimmy. Or quitting, like a lot of assistants in Doohan’s past apparently had.

It wasn’t like Spike wasn’t used to rebukes or harshness. In fact, he kind of appreciated that Doohan didn’t baby him. And he thought maybe Doohan respected that he didn’t crumple under the pressure—although that may just have been wishful thinking on his part.

Still, after a few months of practice, even Doohan couldn’t find fault with the way he flew. (Or at least not very much fault.) The controls felt natural in Spike’s hands, like an extension of himself. He could effortlessly swoop and dive through the sky, at least in Earth’s atmosphere, as easily as moving his own body. And no matter how often he set off from the hangar with a whoosh, or how often he practiced all the proper measurements and calculations to land the way Doohan had showed him, it still felt just as freeing as it did the first time. It gave him a strange, bright sense that maybe he could do more when he got back to Mars. Maybe he could have an actual future.

But it still caught him completely off-guard when Doohan took a satisfied look at the newly-refurbished MONO racer—the Swordfish II, he’d called it (Spike decided not to ask what had happened to the Swordfish I)—and declared, “It’s yours now.”

“M-mine?” Spike babbled, like some sort of idiot.

Doohan nodded quite sensibly, as if this were the only logical option and any idiot would understand that. “You’ve done enough work on it to have earned it fair and square. You know it inside and out. And besides, it’s sturdy enough that it should survive a crash or two.” And for the first time, he flashed a smile at Spike, a knowing gleam in his eye.

Spike smiled back. The ship really was beautiful, lithe and maneuverable but still tough. Not some delicate thing that would crash and burn at the slightest provocation. It had been through some shit, just like he had. And it had come out alive. Maybe it was an old model, but it was his.

The words Thank you felt awkward on his tongue, tripping it up. But he hoped his face would show his gratitude.

Doohan patted the ship’s hull in satisfaction. And okay, technically speaking, Spike knew it wasn’t meant for him, not really—but it felt almost like a pat on the back.

“Why don’t you take it for a spin?”

#cowboy bebop #beboptober #beboptober 2024 #beboptober2024 #bebop crew #wild horses #spike spiegel #doohan #prequel #pre-canon #crash #textpost #fic #my fic #maya’s musings #maya’s masterpieces

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tagged-jimmy-switch-writes · 3 months ago

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The Bebop Crew, a Splatoon fanfic or something...

So I've had this idea and these characters kicking around since Splatoon 2, and i finally did something with them. YAY!

Just a little slice-of-life joint about a squad of Octolings. I don't know how much of this I will write but I have a chapter or so worth and I wanted to share it with my Sploon friends and anyone else who wants to read it.

Anyway...

Session One: Jupiter Jazz

The Bluefin Depot looked as stunning as ever today. The sight of the place almost brought a tear to Jazzmine's eyes. It had been closed for conservation efforts for ages, as the Bluefin Bay had been so littered and trashed for so long. The folks over the Bay had finally deemed it clean enough to reopen, enacting strict rules to keep it from falling into disrepair again.

Jazzmine Spiegel stood at the back of the spawn pool. She had never played with these three Inklings before, but that was the way of the Turf War. Your best friend could be your sworn enemy three minutes from now, and strangers could be fierce comrades in arms. Jazz spun her Neo Sploosh-o-Matic around one finger, waiting for the whistle to begin the match.

The whistle finally came, and the four players split from the spawn. Jazzmine made her way up the left side, covering the turf with fuchsia ink. Jazz found the fuchsia and lime palette boring. She preferred purple and orange. Other than super special Splatfest colors, those two were her favorite.

She hopped down to Shthe second layer of the stage. The spawn points rested at the top layer, outside the opposing team's reach. Once she came to the small pool of water at the center of the stage, she scoped out the surrounding area. There were splotches of lime ink around but most of the other team had missed the area.

The stage received an update during the Bay's cleanup initiative. Inkable walls appeared at the farthest edge of the stage where Jazz remembered grates. She could slip up that wall and be well into enemy territory, instead of trying and failing to throw a Squid Beakon across the water. She laughed as the memories rushed to her mind, spraying ink on the wall and dipping into swimming form.

It was harder to see while swimming, as her eyes rested on her back. Inklings and Octolings changed to their Cephalo form when swimming through their ink, returning to their common 'Kid' form to run. There was also a Ghost form taken after being splatted. Jazz had theories about it, but nobody was truly certain. Some things about Turf War weren't meant to be understood... such as spawn camping with Chargers STILL being legal.

Jazz spotted an enemy and put her Charger thoughts away. Her Special meter was full so she fired her Tenta Missiles. After briefly locking on several enemy targets, she fired her projectiles. The Special Power Up chunks in her shirt powered her missiles up. She'd spotted three targets on her map, making about twelve shots. The octoling she'd spotted swam into her missile by mistake, instantly getting splatted. Jazz cackled as she watched the girl's 'ghost' fly toward the enemy spawn.

The other two came out of hiding to avoid the ink missiles and regrouped on the right corner of the Depot. Jazz gave chase, meeting a teammate on the way. She and the squid with the Tenta Camo Brella covered the foe's lime ink with fuchsia. Sqiud laid down Ink Mines periodically along the way. The octoling, whom Jazz had splatted, fired her Clash Blaster at them, but Squid Girl spread her Brella to shield. The enemy's blaster ran out of ink, giving Jazz time to splat her.

She moved to fire on her enemy's approaching teammate, but the front of her weapon fell off at her feet! She panicked and continued firing, splatting her foe at the last second. She grabbed the missing piece of her Sploosh and tried to reattach it, being splatted by a stray Tenta Missile. The whistle blew as she flew back to the spawn in her Ghost form.

Jazz's team won by a sizeable margin. Jazz didn't stick around for a photo with her team. She scooped up the pieces of her busted weapon and ran for the train. She tapped at her phone the whole ride home, trying to contact Eddie and ask them to fix her Sploosh before Splatfest that weekend.

\/\/\/\/\/

Eddie Ein stared intently at their computer screen, waiting for Chess's next move. Playing board games over Splatnet was their favorite pastime; chess and Shogi were their favorite games. This game had lasted for days, as Eddie's games usually did. Chess the sea snail was Edd's only equal. They pondered what Chess would do next, thinking through the knocks at the door that grew louder over time.

"One-one, I know you can hear me!" Called a voice that sounded like Jazz. Edd ignored the girl at their door and typed a message into their Splatnet chat. "ONE-ONE PLEASE!"

"Edward is very busy right now. Please hang up, and call back later!" The small octoling with the bright orange tentacles finally replied. Chess still hadn't moved, so whatever Jazzmine needed would have to wait.

"Eddie, I know your game is important, but I need you to fix my Sweetheart before Splatfest this weekend!" Jazz pleaded.

"Leave your Sploosh at the door and it will be repaired in due time..." Eddie told their teammate through the door. A small flap in the door swung open, and Jazz deposited her weapon into Edd's apartment.

"How's the new song coming, by the way?" Jazz asked when she poked her head through the door, taking care not to get her spiky tentacles stuck. Eddie sighed loudly from their computer screen.

"It's been at a standstill because it's missing something... The track is open on my music software, laughing in my face. YES! CHESS HAS FINALLY MADE A MOVE!" They eagerly clicked back to their chess game, swiftly analyzing and plotting their next move. After taking it, they looked at Jazz. "Would you listen to my song and perhaps play guitar for me?" They asked, their bright orange eyes meeting Jazz's soft purples. The taller octoling grinned with intrigue.

"I don't see why not. Wouldn't Jet or Vivi play better than me?" Jazz could feel Edd rolling their eyes at that.

"Jet is grinding his life away in preparation for Splatfest, and I do not wish to deal with the attitude of Vivian Valentine. Let alone his floppy fretwork, which has no place in my music. It must be you, my wonderful Jupiter Jazz." Jazz chuckled and blushed at their friend's words. Edd was eccentric and sometimes tough to understand, but they were always honest.

"Could I come to listen now, or would you prefer later?"

"The lab is in shambles due to this chess game. Your weapon repairs should be finished by tonight, so could you come by tomorrow? Ooh, and bring Crusty Seanwiches, please!" Edd's face brightened at the thought of their favorite sloppy sandwich. Jazz nodded and grinned, twirling her bright pink tentacles.

"I'll be there! You're the best, One-One!" Jazz cheered as the door flap closed.

"This is true..." Edd bragged. Chess's next move trapped Edd's king, much to their chagrin. They typed 'GG' into the chat and closed the Splatnet window. They grabbed the pieces of Jazz's Neo Sploosh-o-Matic and got to work. They couldn't wait for Jazz to hear their amazing new song.

\/\/\/\/\/

The Piranha Pit was drenched in dark blue ink, which was how Jet always left it. He'd played several matches today, but the Pit was closing soon. He fist-bumped his teammates one final time as he looked down at his stage map. He took a screenshot for his records. Now he would Super Jump to the nearest eats.

"Midnight Black! You're still kicking around in Turf War?" Jet heard from behind him, spoken by a voice he'd sooner not hear. He turned around to see his squad mate's brother Vivian. How could Vio be remotely related to someone so insufferable? Oh well, it wasn't her fault her brother was a traitor.

"Vicious!" Jet hissed at the boy with the long white tentacles. The ocotling sneered at Jet. Jet loved pushing this terrible boy's buttons, especially when Vivi tried so hard to push Jet's.

"I'm not a part of your silly squad anymore. Call me Vivi like everyone else." Vivi rolled his eyes as he replied. It was all Jet could do not to laugh in his face. Jet pulled his tentacles out of their tight braids, letting them take their usual afro shape.

"Well, Vivi, I am still part of the Bebop Crew. So call me Jet or don't bother calling me." Jet fired back, his hands gripping his Dualies tightly. Crow and Raven had seen him through many matches. He loved the Dark Tetras with all his heart.

"Well, Jet, I'd say it was nice to see you, but I wouldn't want to lie to your face." Vivi cackled as he turned to leave.

"Wait. I want to hear it from the seahorse's mouth. Did you really give up Turf War? Or did you leave the Bebop Crew to chase some squid girl?" That stopped Vivi in his tracks. Jet thought his face would get stuck in that sneer. His eyes narrowed as he looked back at Jet.

"Who told you about her? My nosy kid sister, I'm sure!" Vivi spat. A smirk came across Jet's face at the other boy's anger.

"Wow, you really are a totally different person. Vicious would never miss an opportunity to brag about his new squeeze!" Jet laughed. Vivi rolled his eyes so hard Jet thought they might fall off.

"I don't see how that's any of your business. Does the Bebop Crew truly miss me that much?" Vivi spat back. Jet could feel the venom in his former cohort's words, but it only made him laugh harder. He turned away from Vivi, leaving him to seethe.

"I'd say it was good to see you, Vi, but I wouldn't want to lie to your face." Jet grinned at his parting shot, knowing it would eat Vivi up. Vivi twirled one of his long white tentacles.

"See you around, Jet Black. The displeasure is all mine." Vivian shot back before turning to run over to his friends.

"I assure you, Vivian Valentine, it is not." Jet popped off as Vivi joined his posse of inklings. Sure enough, Orange Range was among them. Jet would recognize that braid anywhere. He dismissed all thoughts of Vicious and his new squad, checking his phone to see where the Tidal Tacos truck was parked today. Ooh, nice and close! He dipped into a puddle of ink and shot off in a glorious Super Jump. Time for tacos!

\/\/\/\/\/

Jazz had an hour or so of free time before band practice so she would watch a match. Her sister's shift at the Arowana Mall's food court should be over by the time she arrived. She caught up with Saturn and the two bought food from a different spot in the mall. They could see the stage area of the mall decently from their table, and the business had a screen to watch on in case they couldn't see.

This match was Orange vs. Purple. Jazz felt a hint of jealousy seeing her favorite palette. She looked closer at the players on the screen and realized her best friend Vincent was on the Orange team. "Rings, lookit! Volaju is playing!" She told Saturn, who nodded in between bites of her burger. Seaside Snackages made the best burgers in Inkopolis, according to Rings and Jazz.

Jet sometimes protested, but he didn't like burgers that much anyhow. His heart was with Tidal Tacos forever and always. They did make banging tacos, but Jazz could never find the truck during business hours.

The whistle blew to start the match. Jazz paid close attention to the Orange team for the first part of the match, but a player on Purple's team distracted her before long. This pompadour player was using a Stringer weapon. Jazz had heard of these but had never seen one in action. This beast fired three rounds of ink at a time. Jazz saw a shot fall short of hitting Vinny, but he got splatted moments after as the rounds exploded!

Jazz knew immediately that she had to meet this bow slinger! She watched as they threw a Toxic Mist bomb at another foe, trapping them in a purple cloud so their Special could splat them. The pompadour octoling unleashed the Killer Wail 5.1, a set of smaller but more concentrated sound attacks than the old-school Wail Jazzmine remembered. This octoling must be from the Splatlands since the hot new weapons usually arrived there first.

The match ended soon, and the purple team devastated the orange team. Poor Volaju and his cohorts never stood a chance. Jazz and Rings caught up with him for a moment as the teams shook hands after the match. Jazz saw the pompadour again and yelled out to them. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name on the screen. I hope it isn't rude, but I absolutely need to see that main weapon you're using."

"Not at all. She's pretty, isn't she?" Pompadour cheered. Jazz tried not to blush at the word 'pretty' since this octoling and their weapon both fit that description. "This here's a Tri-Stringer! Stringers are all the rage in the Splatlands!"

"So the exploding rounds are a charged shot? Incredible! One-One would flip out over this thing!" Jazz fawned over the weapon. Pompadour's ears perked up at that.

"You know One-One? I use the Splash Cannon they invented sometimes too!" The purple octoling replied with a quizzical look. Jazz nodded.

"We're in the same squad. They usually test their prototype weapons on all of us..." Jazz twisted one of her tentacles as the awful memory of the first Cannon test rushed to her mind. The Pompadour in front of her twitched and raised an eyebrow suddenly. "Something wrong?"

"You're with the Bebop Crew? They're, like, my favorite squad ever!" Seemed it was their turn to fawn. Jazz chuckled loudly, as she usually did when she met a fan. It always surprised her that anyone knew her squad without facing them in a match.

"Yeah! I founded the squad. Well, Jet and I." She mentioned. Pomp gasped again.

"YOU'RE JUPITER JAZZ? Can I have your autograph?!" They squeaked excitedly and felt around in their pockets. "Oof, I don't have anything you can sign..."

"And I don't have a pen. You know, the Crew has been short a member since Vivi left. I think you'd make a great fit! What was your name by the way?" Jazz asked. The purple one tripped over their words nervously for a moment. "Wow, I didn't think the Crew was famous..."

"You guys are all anyone talks about in the Splatlands! You're as famous as the Fabulous Killjoys are in Inkopolis Plaza!"

"I don't know about all that..." Jazz blushed ten shades of pink. Her face matched her tentacles. Her sister Rings laughed at her. "

But yeah, my name is Mulberri Stardust, and I would love to join the Bebop Crew!” Purple finally answered, a huge grin across their face. Jazz blushed even harder at their pretty smile. She pushed Rings toward Volaju, sensing she was about to make a comment that might embarrass Jazz.

“You’d have to meet the rest of the squad, and One-One might want to test your skills, but I’ll put in a good word for you!” Jazz cheered. A squid girl approached Mulberri and hugged and kissed them as Mulberri told them about Jazz’s offer. Whoa, their girlfriend was cute, too! Jazz tried not to blush any more than she already had.

“Neat! I’m Scatta! If they join your squad, you’ll see me a lot!” The squid girl mentioned. Jazz smiled as they parted ways. Jazz and Rings caught the same train, but Jazz got off sooner to make it to band practice.

\/\/\/\/\/

Band practice had gone quite well, as per usual. For a band with eight members, practice meetups were surprisingly frequent. Sometimes they were missing a horn or some keys, but only because half of them had other music projects or jobs. Jazz played bass in the band, be it a bass guitar or a double bass. Her lobster girlfriend Sandy Claws played the drums. Krillin Clubs the shrimp played keyboards.

Krillin had brought half the band with him after his last band fell out. Dizzy Diamonds the smooth sax inkling had joined with him, as did Spiny Spades the urchin on trombone, and Hammar Hearts the singing shark.

Mars Volta was their new guitarist, a fiercely talented starfish girl. She had wiped the floor with Vivi when he challenged her to a music battle and joined the band when he decided to leave. She brought Farrah Legator with her, an alligator who played a killer trumpet. The eight of them formed Asteroid Bluefin and played jazz that was anything but smooth, inspired by the soundtrack to Jazz’s favorite show.

Singing about space and bounty hunters always made for a fun practice and a wonderful concert. Jazz couldn’t wait until their next gig, though they didn’t know when that might be. They’d almost gotten onto the lineup for Splatfest this weekend, but something fell through and another band got the spot. Jazz was still bummed out about it, but there was always next Splatfest.

Sandy reached her claws around Jazz’s waist and gave her a big hug and a kiss on the shoulder. “Babe, you’re the best band leader I’ve ever had...” The lobster girl complimented. Jazz blushed bright pink at that. She had heard plenty of horror stories about the last band Sandy was in, though they weren’t much of a band. More like a singer with enough ego for a whole orchestra and the only musicians who would put up with him.

“You’re an amazing drummer, my love. It’s not your fault your old band’s singer only wanted to hear his own voice and didn’t let you play the way you like. His loss.” Jazz replied, stealing herself a kiss on Sandy’s lips. Sandy hid her face for a second as she blushed a dark blue.

“So there might be a new member in the Bebop soon? I hope they’re as cute as you said they are.” Sandy laughed. It was Jazz’s turn to blush again. “Just don’t go kissing them without me.”

“They have a girlfriend so I’m sure there won’t be any kissing unless they both want to kiss me. And I would never kiss them without you!” Jazz chuckled back. The two girls laughed and blushed for a moment more.

“I wouldn’t kiss anyone without you either, love... except Marina. I would keep her all to myself.” Sandy giggled. Jazz pouted at the idea, but she understood. Sandy had loved Marina for ages before she’d met Jazz.

“That’s fair. But hey, maybe Mulberri and Scatta will kiss both of us...” Jazz joked. Sandy laughed again at the silly idea.

“What a life that would be!” Sandy cheered as she kissed Jazz again. The two of them snuggled up together to watch a movie, but they didn’t pay much attention since they were cuddling.

\/\/\/\/\/

Mulberri stood in the center of the local training room. Edd had rented the place out to test Berri’s skills with the Splash Cannon, the weapon Edd had designed themself. The cannon was a modified Rapid Blaster with maxed-out stats. It took 300 points to charge the special since its range, damage, and fire rate were so high. It could fire three or four rounds before needing to refill ink, but a skilled blaster could cover plenty of turf with that.

One-One had created quite an obstacle course for them today. The level design was their strong suit, and they were even in the process of designing an official stage. Maybe this test would be a prototype of that. Berri was ready for anything.

The whistle that began the test finally came, and Berri came out swinging. Some Squid Balloons came at them, and they took all three of the dummies down with a well-placed blast. They climbed up a wall in Cephalo form and looked around. They blasted another dummy before dipping down into their purple ink to refill. They swam down off the wall and ran across an Ink Mine, performing a Squid Jump to evade the explosion.

More dummies popped up in front of them, and Berri splatted them with cannon fire. Their special was ready to activate, so they charged up their Booyah Bomb and threw it into the mob of dummies across the stage, splatting all of them as the whistle blew a second time.

The entire practice area was covered in purple ink, and Mulberri wore a huge grin across their face. Suddenly Jet’s face appeared on a screen. He had his tentacles in tight braids instead of the usual afro. He wore a black tuxedo. Jazz rolled her eyes at his theatrics.

“So, Jazz has recommended you, and One-One has tested you. Since you have passed, the last thing is a little questionnaire. Question One: what is your favorite stage?”

“Well, I love the Piranha Pit and Crableg Capitol, but my absolute fave is Humpback Pump Track. I detest Shellendorf Institute with all of its ceiling snipers, but it can be a fun stage sometimes.” Berri answered honestly. They hated camping chargers as much as anyone else did, and the Institute seemed to be designed for them.

“Interesting. Next question: Have you ever heard of the one called Vivian Valentine?” Jazz chuckled at Jet’s question.

“Now, Jet, that wasn’t on the last test!” She joked. Jet shot her a look through the screen.

“Mind your business, ma'am. Now, Mulberri?” Jet snapped back, turning back to Berri.

“I have had the misfortune of being in the same room with him, thanks to Orange Range. It was not an experience I would plan on reliving.” Berri answered again, trying not to roll their eyes at the thought of Vivi. They were happy Scatta wasn't friends with Range anymore.

“Third question: What handle would you use with the Crew?”

“Mercury Stardust. Anything but ‘Kuwabara the Ma’am’ since I chose that name in what feels like another life.” They sighed but put those thoughts away to focus on the questions.

“Final question: What is your favorite thing about Turf War?” Jet asked. Berri had to think for a moment.

“Honestly, what is there not to love? For three minutes all the worries of life fade away. It’s you and your three teammates against the world, and then a flash of pretty colors and it’s onto the next match. It’s pure adrenaline and it’s my favorite thing to do!” Berri answered the final question. They could see Jet thinking. He seemed to be dragging out the silence for dramatic effect, but they weren’t certain. The skill test was one thing, but Berri was never great at talking so they weren’t sure about this questionnaire.

“Well, Mercury Stardust, pack your grip and join my ship, the Bebop!” Jet finally answered. The rest of the crew cheered for Mercury as they realized they had passed all the tests. They all went to Tidal Tacos to eat after Berri’s tests. “They have the best eats in town, undisputedly!” Jet bragged about his favorite taco truck. Berri was ecstatic to be a member of the Bebop Crew.

\/\/\/\/\/ \/\/\/\/\/ \/\/\/\/\/

So yeah, that's what I have so far, as well as a couple scenes for later parts. Or other parts, since I'm not really sure if this will have much of a direction. I know like two things I want to happen by the end, but who knows?

#Fanfiction #Mine #Splatoon #splatoon fanfiction #Splatoon OCs #Splatoon fanfic #Original characters #My OCs #Tagged Jimmy Switch Writes #The Bebop Crew are my favorite OCs now I even like them better than the RWBY ones I made

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