"Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy."
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
Adrian Ramírez is an original character created for the Cowboy Bebop anime. An ISSP Detective for the Mars Police Department, Adrian investigates crimes and works the corrupt system to exact justice. Unfortunately for the criminals throughout the solar system, his definition of justice is a lot bloodier than they'd expect.
Inspired by film noir and crime dramas, Adrian's character explores themes of cynicism, moral ambiguity, and eventual self-destruction. He'll cross paths with syndicate members, assassins, and a certain group of bounty hunters who are constantly down on their luck. This blog is a collection of those stories.
The only formal education Adrian received was through the ISSP Academy. His mentor, Detective Michael Ramírez, forged Adrian’s credentials so he could get around the background check. Adrian’s ability to quickly adapt to any situation in addition to being highly recommended by Michael put him on the fast track to becoming a detective.
During his time at the academy, Adrian found that he was well-suited to ISSP work. He was interested in topics like law, criminal psychology, and investigation procedures and even spent time outside of classes reading about them. Instructors were surprised by Adrian’s advanced weapons proficiency which they usually only saw from Titan veterans. Adrian explained that Michael had given him lessons from a young age, laying their curiosity to rest.
The one friend Adrian made at the academy was his partner, Detective Evelyn Bellamy, though ‘friend’ is a bit generous. Like many of their classmates, Evelyn quickly became tired of hearing their instructors sing Adrian’s praises. She was just relieved that he was aiming for the narcotics department so that their paths would never cross again. Unfortunately for her, their Captain had other ideas. Assigning them both to homicide, they were forced to find common ground. Let’s just say their partnership is a constant work in progress.
What animal best represents/symbolizes Adrian?
The animal that best represents Adrian is the coyote. Coyotes represent survival, adaptability, and tenacity, all traits that Adrian has honed from a young age. Being able to think on his feet has kept him alive for this long, but it has also caused him a fair deal of pain and suffering. With experience, especially in his role as a detective, Adrian has learned to wield this double-edged sword.
Coyotes have their destructive attributes as well, such as being stubborn, impulsive, and vengeful. Beneath his officer of the law façade, these attributes are at the core of everything Adrian does. While he truly believes he has let go of his past by finding his true calling, it’s his past that drives him to seek justice and eliminate targets. Adrian can’t confront this paradox because, deep down, he knows that it would destroy the very foundation of his identity.
Due to their howling during times of transition, such as dusk and dawn, coyotes are often associated with the concept of death and rebirth. With every death of every person he considered family, Adrian has emerged on the other side as someone completely new. It’s hard to say if it’s for better or worse.
How much does Adrian care for his appearance?
Adrian is all about practicality. One of the things he appreciates about being a detective is that he doesn’t have to think about what to wear. Because of that, he owns ten sets of the same white button-up, black tie, and black slacks. Whenever he gets an injury, usually from his extracurriculars, he patches himself up. He goes into the office the next day like nothing’s happened, causing many of his coworkers to worry and insist he visit a hospital.
Prior to working as a detective, Adrian wore whatever was comfortable. This mostly consisted of t-shirts, sweats, joggers, and baseball caps - all things he still wears when he’s off the clock. Michael was the first person to make Adrian more aware of how he presented himself. His mentor stressed how appearance was an indicator of professionalism and, if he wanted to be taken seriously as a detective, something he needed to follow through on consistently.
After Michael’s passing, Evelyn took on the role of pushing Adrian to expand his wardrobe. On their undercover cases and off-duty meetings, she always has a lot to say about his casual wear. Through her incessant pestering, Adrian has slowly started adding pieces to his collection just so he could make their conversations a little more bearable.
What quote best encapsulates Adrian?
“Show me a hero and I’ll write you a tragedy.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald
While there are countless ways to interpret this quote, two of them are the most relevant to Adrian. The first has to do with the past. Behind every hero, there is usually a tragic event that shapes the rest of their life. For Adrian, that was losing his family. Their murders are the catalyst for him becoming a detective.
The second is more of a warning for the future. Making sacrifices is an unavoidable fact of being a hero. Adrian’s merciless pursuit of justice comes at the cost of everything else in his life. While he believes he has a righteous goal, being willing to go to any lengths to achieve it – violent or otherwise - pushes him further and further away from heroism. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and sometimes you don’t know you’re on that road until it’s far too late.
A note from the author: All questions were shared on the @bebopcrew server.
The first thing he always did when he got back was run the washing machine. Adrian learned a long time ago that once the blood dried, there was no saving his clothes.
He wouldn’t have bothered washing them before. It was much easier to have them torched and then buy a new set. But then his clothes budget started eating into his food budget. It was only then that Adrian decided to invest in hydrogen peroxide and bleach.
There was never anyone in the laundry room at three o’clock in the morning. Not that it mattered anyway. When Evelyn found out he’d been living in an apartment in at the edge of Alba City, she made a face.
“Be careful out there. You might get jumped…or worse.”
His partner and the rest of the city seemed to have a certain perception of the area, a certain perception that couldn’t be further from the truth. People were barely willing to make eye contact with each other, let alone attempt to jump anyone. If one of Adrian’s neighbors walked in on him scrubbing the bloodstains out of his clothes, they’d probably just apologize before turning around and pretending they didn’t see anything. That’s how much they wanted to mind their own business.
The washer beeped. He took out his collared shirt, inspecting it for stains. Once he saw that it was spotless, he moved the load into the dryer with a satisfied smile.
It’d been a particularly long day. They started the morning with a forty-mile drive out to an abandoned car on the side of the highway. It wasn’t until they opened the trunk that they understood why homicide had been called.
“What kind of monster does this?” Evelyn asked, taking in the sight of the victim splayed out across the blood-matted rug. It was clear he’d been dumped there without any considerations for respect or decency.
“Syndicate.”
“How do you know?”
The slit throat had tipped him off. It was sloppy, so it was probably some grunt that lacked experience, but it did the job. Adrian kept that part to himself. Instead, he pulled on his gloves and pointed at the subtle outline in the victim’s front pocket. It was a long, thin, cylindrical shape.
“Red Eye,” Evelyn said.
Sure enough, Adrian reached in and pulled out an empty vial. “Bag it. We’ll send it over for a chemical analysis once we get back.”
Evelyn grabbed an evidence bag and held it open for Adrian to drop the vial in. Once she sealed it, she brought it back to their cruiser.
Adrian caught a glimpse of something peeking out from underneath the rug. He pulled out a half-used matchbook. Even though it’d been crumpled and creased, Adrian recognized the logo: a tree with a snake wrapped around the trunk.
He glanced over his shoulder. Evelyn was still at the cruiser, securing the evidence in the trunk. The patrol officers who had taped off the surrounding area were chatting across the way. In one swift movement, Adrian tucked the matchbook into one of the inside pockets of his coat.
“Does he have anything else on him?” Evelyn asked when she came back. Adrian handed her the victim’s wallet. She flipped it open and pulled out his driver’s license. “Roy Marino. Lived in Alba City. Eighteen years old.” There was a pause as she examined the photo. He had a gentle smile and wide eyes. When she lowered the card, she saw those same wide eyes staring back at her, completely glazed over. “He was just a kid.”
The rest of the day followed protocol. They got the vial back to the lab before heading to the address on Roy’s ID. His mother answered the door with a smile. As soon as they introduced themselves, her smile faded. They never even made it into the living room. Adrian and Evelyn knelt beside her in the threshold of the door, taking turns offering their condolences as she sobbed into her hands.
“So Roy sneaks out sometime after midnight and dispatch gets the call about the car at six in the morning,” Evelyn recapped, cupping her coffee mug with both hands. “In between all that, he gets his hands on a vial of Red Eye. If we’re waiting on autopsy and lab results, then we should work on retracing his steps.”
They were at a diner halfway between the Marino’s residence and the office. It was supposed to be lunch, but one of the occupational hazards of being a detective was that you rarely had an appetite. Adrian sat across from his partner, taking a long drag from his cigarette. She subconsciously leaned away from him when he smoked, like the few-inch difference would somehow save her from the smell. That’d be great if the entire diner wasn’t filled with chain smokers and every piece of furniture hadn’t already been permeated with decades of smoke.
“What makes you think he ‘got his hands on’ Red Eye? For all we know, he could be a dealer. Syndicate, even.”
“He wasn’t.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “Because…?”
“I just know. He was a good kid. No mother would cry like that if he wasn’t.”
One of Evelyn’s classic lines. ‘I just know’ this, ‘gut feeling’ that. Once she started sympathizing with someone, it was like she had on blinders. Adrian didn’t bother continuing his line of questioning. Agree to disagree. That’s how their partnership worked.
“What’s the plan?”
Evelyn waved her communicator. “The car just came back registered to a Darnell Sala. He reported it stolen a week ago. Seems like a decent place to start.”
At least it started out decent. Mr. Sala didn’t know anything beyond the fact that his car had been stolen from a gas station while he was inside using the bathroom. When they tried pulling security camera footage, they found that all the cameras were fake. The gas station owner claimed they ‘looked real enough’ to deter punks from trying anything. Apparently not.
The rest of the day was spent going up and down the street into local businesses to see if they could find any witnesses. When that didn’t surface anything useful, they started sifting through traffic camera footage. It wasn’t until Evelyn looked up from the screen to see the night sky out the window that they stopped.
“It’s already ten. I have to get my notes ready for court tomorrow,” she hissed as she scooped papers and files into her bag. “You’re going to be there, right?”
It was a rhetorical question. If Adrian had a choice, he’d be anywhere but there. Still, he nodded. “Yeah. Just gonna finish up here.”
With that, Evelyn excused herself. Adrian kept scrubbing through the footage in their empty office. Outside, the muffled footsteps of the night shift carried through the walls. The light from the hallway spilled in from the crack beneath the door. His eyes watched the screen for the black car. As the footage played at double speed, cars flew past, pedestrians moved at unnatural speeds, and the traffic lights flickered. Even while keeping track of all of that, Adrian’s mind was elsewhere. Specifically, it was on the matchbook inside his pocket.
He got up from his desk a little past one. It was about that time.
A neon sign of a snake wrapped around the trunk of a tree bathed the street below in reds and greens. It was a weekday, so it was a quieter night for The Garden. The club usually had a line wrapped around the corner and a team of valet drivers and bouncers crowded at the entrance. Tonight, it was empty.
Adrian took one more drag of his cigarette before tossing it and crossing the street. The single bouncer barely acknowledged his presence, giving him a slight side-eye before looking ahead again. The inside was tamer than what Adrian was used to. Usually, the music was so loud that it made the floor vibrate and poured out into the street. There was a live band tucked away into the corner playing something slow, romantic. The only couple in the place swayed on the dancefloor.
You didn’t need to be a detective to know exactly who Adrian was there for. One, there was probably a total of twelve people in there including the band and bartender. And two, the kid sitting in the worst-lit area of the club was practically swimming in sweat. Adrian could almost see the puddles collecting on the table as the kid splayed his hands against the marble. Keeping his back to the kid, Adrian took a seat at the bar and called the bartender over.
“I’ll take a Piña Colada.”
The bartender blinked, processing his order. “Excuse me?”
“No Piña Colada? I guess a Blue Hawaiian will do.”
“Uh, no, I can make you a Piña Colada.” The bartender looked him up and down, waiting for Adrian to spring the inevitable ‘just kidding’. When that didn’t happen, he bowed his head slightly. “I’ll be right back, sir.”
Adrian glanced at the kid from one of the mirrors that lined the back wall of the bar. When Adrian called him a kid, he meant it. He couldn’t be a day over twenty-one. More likely than not, he was sneaking around with a fake ID. Or he was a part of something bigger, something that couldn’t give two shits about the legal drinking age. Adrian didn’t have to wait long to get his answer.
At the same moment the bartender set his cocktail in front of him, three men came in through the door. Adrian didn’t have to turn around or glance at their reflection to know they were Syndicate. He knew from the way their presence sucked the air out of the room. He also knew it from how the other patrons looked away.
Turning a blind eye. That’s what this city did best.
The men didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. As soon as they got to the kid’s table, the shortest of the three spoke. “Did you take care of it?”
The kid nodded rapidly. Any faster and his head would’ve snapped right off his neck. “Of course! Of course!”
There was a long pause. Eventually, Adrian heard the sound of the booth creak as all three men took a seat. They scooted in, pinning the kid between them.
“Can I explain something to you?” The short guy again. His voice was raspy, like all he did was inhale cigarettes by the pack.
“Of cou–”
The short guy raised a hand, cutting him off. “Just listen. Here’s how it works: we give you Red Eye to deal to punkass kids who have nothing better to do with their lives, you collect their money, you give the money to us, and we let you keep a cut. Rinse and repeat. You follow me so far?”
Rapid nodding.
“Okay. Now, a question. Where, in that very simple process, does a kid stealing from your stash before you get a single woolong out of him fit in?”
“I’m sorry, Ace! I know I fucked up but I took care of it just like you showed me!”
Ace clicked his tongue. Motioning to one of his henchmen, there was a resounding bang as he slammed something on the table in front of the kid. Adrian could tell by the extended silence that the kid was taking whatever it was.
“Tell me what you’re looking at.”
“The outside of my apartment.”
“And?”
“Two kids running down the street.”
“Did you ‘take care’ of two kids?”
If the kid was half a second quicker, maybe he could’ve gotten away with it. That half a second made all the difference in the world. “Of cou–”
“Don’t you dare lie to me, Tommy!”
Adrian felt the rest of the patrons jump at the sudden roar. After a moment, they resumed whatever it was they were doing. Talking, swaying, playing music.
Quietly, Tommy spoke. “I’ll find the other one. It’ll never happen again, Ace. I promise.”
“I know it won’t.”
The henchmen to the right of Tommy grabbed his head, his two massive hands completely engulfing the kid’s skull. In an instant, he snapped his neck. This time, none of the patrons even flinched. The only response Adrian noticed was the way the bartender’s eyes slid shut as he took a breath. When he opened them again, all Adrian saw was exhaustion. He’d probably witnessed the same scene play out before him countless times. To him, it wasn’t a murder. Not even a crime. If anything, it was the same thing as locking your door before heading out or brushing your teeth before bed. Routine.
Ace and his men continued their conversation, calling over to the bartender for a round of beers. Tommy’s body was slumped somewhere beneath the table already long forgotten. Once Adrian finished his drink, he stood up.
“Will that be all for tonight, sir?”
“Yeah.”
“Your total is a thousand woolongs.”
“You can put it on their tab.” He tilted his head in the direction of the Syndicate members. Again, the bartender waited for a ‘just kidding’. Again, it never came. “Tell them I’ll be waiting out back to thank them.”
A few expressions flashed across the bartender’s features. Unsurprisingly, the first was fear. Relaying the fact that Ace and his men had an extra charge on their bill was a guaranteed death sentence. And then he actually looked at them. Clinking their bottles together, shooting the breeze, laughing. Somewhere at their feet, a kid’s body lay in a crumpled pile. His gaze moved over to the other side of the club where the patrons remained in their own little worlds. Eventually, Adrian saw the expression he wanted to see.
“As you wish.”
There was still the chance that the bartender could chicken out. Adrian considered the possibility as he leaned against a brick wall a few alleys down from The Garden. It wouldn’t really change anything. The sun would rise, he’d present evidence in court, he and Evelyn would continue working Roy’s case until they were eventually led back to Tommy, and then it’d be over. Somewhere in there the sun would set, but that was one thing Adrian had a hard time keeping track of. Whether he took care of it tonight or not didn’t matter, and yet he found his palms itching.
“Ah, there you are.” Adrian turned toward the voice. Ace and his henchmen were standing near the entrance of the alleyway, still close enough to the streetlights to cast long shadows. “And where’s that ‘thank you’ I was promised?”
Adrian pushed himself off the wall. Their hands shot into their pockets in response to the sudden movement and only paused when Adrian showed that he was empty-handed.
“Thanks for treating. And sorry if I’m a little nervous. It’s not every day you meet Syndicate members in the flesh.”
Ace laughed at that. It was a strangled sound, like air leaking out of a balloon. “Why would you pull shit like that if you knew we were Syndicate?” They continued to close in on Adrian, backing him further down the alley. Even the streetlights couldn’t reach them now.
“Well, I can’t just ask for a vial of Red Eye in the middle of a club.”
A smirk stretched across Ace’s lips. “It’s bad manners to eavesdrop.”
So is snapping a kid’s neck in front of a bunch of strangers. Adrian had already pushed his luck enough tonight, so he held his tongue. Instead, he dug into one of his inside coat pockets and pulled out a stack of woolongs.
The sight of the money changed Ace’s tune in an instant. He cleared his throat before grabbing the stack. “I’ll overlook it just this once.” He thumbed through the bills until his fingers came to a sudden stop. “You’re short.”
Adrian’s hands shot up to his chest in surrender. “Nervous, remember? I’ve got it right here.” He reached back into his coat.
But he wasn’t reaching for money.
From his waistband, Adrian unsheathed one of his knives. He lunged forward, closing the distance between himself and the henchman in front of him. With one swing of his arm, Adrian plunged the knife into the side of the man’s neck.
It was always after the first kill that the world seemed to slow down. Adrian thought of it like dominos. One movement flowed seamlessly into the next. It was just a matter of aligning himself.
In his periphery, he saw Ace turn to run. The remaining henchman was reaching for his gun. Adrian inhaled as all the steps fell into place.
He yanked his knife free before pivoting, rushing directly at the other henchman. Fear glinted in the man’s wide eyes as he lifted his gun and tried to aim down his sights. But Adrian was faster. He snapped his right leg up, kicking the gun out of the man’s trembling fingers. Switching from a reverse grip to a forward, Adrian swung up, the blade piercing the bottom of the henchman’s jaw and up through his skull.
All that was left was Ace. He was still scrambling toward the street. Pulling his knife free, Adrian held it out in front of him, level with the center of Ace’s back. The weight was familiar. Comfortable. With the blade balanced on his fingers, he wound his arm back. And then he threw.
A satisfying thud followed as Ace fell to the ground.
Adrian took his time approaching. It was amusing to watch the man haul himself across the pavement. While he was small in comparison to his henchmen, he looked even smaller now. When Adrian got close, Ace froze.
“Please…” It came out more like a wheeze than a coherent word.
Adrian kneeled with one leg on either side of the man. He reached down to cover Ace’s mouth with one hand before yanking the knife out of his back with the other. The man’s screams were muffled by his leather gloves. Adrian squeezed as he pulled up on Ace’s jaw.
“This is what you showed Tommy, right?” Adrian leaned down, pressing the blade to Ace’s exposed throat. “I mean, of course you did. It’s classic Syndicate. I’m sure you teach all your recruits. It's just too bad most of them do a shitty job.”
Ace thrashed and kicked out his legs and pleaded. At least, Adrian assumed he was pleading.
Adrian approaches everything from a ‘the end justifies the means’ mentality. He acknowledges that the ISSP is corrupt but separates himself because he’s using the information he learns while he’s on duty to eliminate syndicate members while he’s off duty – ultimately a net positive for society. In reality, he isn’t different from his corrupt coworkers, working the system to benefit himself and his twisted sense of justice. Questioning his morality is a luxury he never could afford.
Does Adrian drink coffee or tea? Why?
Not to play into cop stereotypes, but Adrian prefers coffee. He takes it toothachingly sweet with tons of milk and sugar since his dad did the same. His coworkers joke that he’s not a real detective until he can take his coffee black. His trademark response is to smile and shrug: “I guess I’ll never be a real detective then.”
How does Adrian feel about Vicious and Vincent?
With a particular hatred for Red Eye dealers, Adrian originally trained to be a narcotics detective before ultimately being assigned to homicide. Because of this, he’s familiar with Vicious and the Red Dragon Syndicate. While Adrian has yet to find an opportunity to eliminate Vicious, he continues to collect intelligence on the syndicate member and keeps him at the top of his list of targets.
Adrian only became aware of Vincent after the events of Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door. When he returned to Mars after working a joint case on Ganymede, Adrian reviewed Vincent’s case file and learned about the Bebop crew’s involvement from Jet. While he condemns the Mars Army’s use of human experimentation and nanorobotics, he also lacks sympathy toward Vincent for killing civilians indiscriminately rather than taking revenge specifically on those who wronged him.
Does Adrian know what Vicious did to Gren?
Adrian was familiar with Gren due to his involvement in the Red Eye trade. He wasn’t much of a priority to Adrian considering Gren’s dealing was inconsistent and out of the miserable hellhole that was Callisto. By the time he even considers hunting him down, Gren is already dead. He learns more about Gren from a conversation with Faye during one of their periodic hustles. After getting drunk off of cocktails bought by Adrian’s winnings, Faye talks about the night she met Gren and he can piece together the rest.
A note from the author: All questions were shared on the @bebopcrew server.
