Bebop — Cowboy

"Run!" he shouts to the kid, but it’s too late. A stray round catches the hacker’s console, and the holograms vanish into a shower of sparks.

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

The Swordfish II cuts through the yellow clouds of Venus, landing with a heavy thud in the rusted outskirts of Tijuana. Spike steps out, the collar of his blue suit turned up against the wind. The city is a graveyard of half-finished skyscrapers and neon signs that flicker with dying gasps. The jazz playing on the bar's ancient jukebox

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