DISCLAIMER: I don't own Lupin III… But Lupin IV… Oh, Yeah….

Hi!

Welcome to the last chapter of this mega-epic! Been a long ride, huh? It's weird… I never thought I'd be finally writing the last chapter! Oh, well… This epilogue is a brief taste of what's to come in the third part of this ongoing tale…. This extremely long ongoing tale… But no one really seems to mind, I take it. Once again, as always, I would love anyone and everyone's honest opinion on what they thought of the story as a total. I can hardly wait to show what I've been keeping under wraps for so long! Enjoy : )

Chapter Fifty

Years Later: Sympathy for the Devil

'And in the end,

The love you take,

Is equal to,

The love you make,'

--The Beatles, 'The End'

Barcelona, Spain:

"So, you've heard about him too, eh?" one bar patron laughed as his friend relayed his tall tale.

"Heard about who?" inquired another patron as he sipped his drink.

"El Blanco Diablo," the one answered, "A man in an all white suit and hat…. Draws a gun quicker than a man can blink…. Many have seem his skill, but few have lived to tell about it."

"Oh, really? Then how do you know?" the third patron laughed wryly, taking another sip of Sangria in the process.

"Ah, I managed to escape the grasp of that grim reaper in white," the patron laughed heartily.

"What?" gasped the storyteller's friend, "You've seen Blanco Diablo?"

"Yes… And he is not Blanco Diablo…"

"Ah, then what is he?" inquired the third mystery bar patron.

"A girl in a suit and hat," laughed the storyteller, "La Blanca Diabla!"

"Oh, you're kidding!" his friend laughed, "It's a girl!"

"Not at all! I saw her with my own eyes, I swear it upon my mother's grave!"

"You swear too much," his friend muttered.

"I tell you—She's a young girl! Cannot be even in her thirties! She's quite lovely, I will admit."

"Oh, you had time to look? Was this before or after she tried to kill you?"

"Ah… She's an angel, but an angel of death, it seems… It's a shame," sighed the storyteller to his friend.

The third patron set her drink down, and looked down at the glass, "You're very intelligent, and very flattering, but not the best braggart in the world…"

The two men now noticed whom exactly they were speaking too. The he was a she, in a white suit, a white tie, a black dress shirt, black and white leather saddle shoes, and a white fedora with a black hatband. She had long black hair loosely tied back in a ponytail, and choppily cut bangs hung over her dark brown eyes. Her skin was of an almost olive tone, revealing perhaps some Mediterranean lineage.

"You…" the storyteller gasped, and stumbled out of his chair. His friend sat there a few moments, and then bolted out the door. The White Devil watched as the storyteller whom had been so cocky before tried to do the same moments later. She shot at the doorknob, causing it to bust. The storyteller looked back at her, terrified, and the few other patrons as well as the bartender quickly exited the premises.

"You stole from me…"

"It was just a dagger! A worthless dagger! I could not even sell it!"

"It was more than just a dagger!" snapped the gunwoman in response as she pointed her Combat Magnum at him once more, "Now give it back to me, before I shoot your friggin' kneecaps off!"

"Here, take it!" he threw the old Asian-style dagger to her, and she caught it, and tucked it away in a hidden pocket, "Are you happy now!?"

"Yeah, thanks…" she said quietly, "Now, I'm givin' you three seconds to get the hell out of here before you meet whoever the hell decided to make someone as low as you in the first place…"

"One last thing, a favor."

"I don't owe you anything," snapped the gunwoman in angry response.

"What is your true name?" he inquired as he slowly reached for a gun hidden in his belt.

He was too slow. She had shot him down just as he placed his hand on the gun handle. He gasped, slumped to the ground, and fell silent.

She looked downward at him, and shook her head, "What a waste…" she mumbled, and walked over to the bar, and found a bottle of Tequila. She took a small swig of it, shuddered, and threw it back down again, "You want to know my name, you scumbag? It's Jigen…. Yukiko Jigen… Although I've grown attached to 'Blanco Diablo' recently."

She turned and walked out of the bar, and sighed heavily to herself, "I guess I have to find another bar to hang out in, now." She mumbled as she quietly made her way down the dusty road, a gust of wind nearly sweeping her fedora off of her head in the process, "Jeeze, Dad—How'd you ever keep this thing on?" she laughed. "And how'd you ever keep going at this rate?" She added under her breath moments later.

~.~.~. The End, For Now .~.~.~