Three: Little Beast

"And fear is not respect, correct,

But it's the best you're gonna get

Sharp blow to the bridge of the nose

Sharp blow and anything goes"

- Elbow

Dinner for the next two days was amazing. Faye believed that five star restaurants didn't have food as good as their meals, even though she knew it was just her gratefulness talking. The only one who seemed more appreciative was Maxwell who ate as if he'd never had a meal in his life, slurping his drinks and soups and piling too much food into his mouth. Jet scolded him just about every ten minutes for his terrible table manners, even though neither of the adults' manners were much better.

Unfortunately, by the end of the week, the delicious meals had become meager again, and it was time to hunt more seriously. Faye always hated working, but when meals were on the line, her enthusiasm was much better. That afternoon, she and Max clambered into her Red Tail and zoomed off in search of King (or anyone else they could find).

"So, Max, how good is your aim?" Faye asked.

"Awesome."

"So it sucks?"

He pouted from the back seat, blowing hair out of his eyes only for it to fall back the way it was. "No, I really am a good shot. I can hit a bull's-eye on a dartboard from like… a mile away."

It was a lie. She saw it in his eyes.

"Whatever, kid… So, what have I taught you so far?"

"Don't trust anyone."

"That's right. Lesson number two is this, so pay attention. Dead bounty heads don't pay. Never shoot to kill, only to injure."

"I understand… but what if the only way to keep them from killing you, you have to kill them?"

"Don't let yourself get into a situation like that."

"But… what if I do?"

She stared at him in her rearview mirror. "If you do?… Figure out what's more important to you, your life or your pay."

"O-oh…"

She nodded, digging her sunglasses out of the glove box.

"Hey, Faye?"

"Hmm?"

"Who's Spike?"

She dropped her shades. "Wh… where'd you hear about Spike?"

"I just noticed that you and Jet seem to mention this Spike guy on occasion… You know, usually when I'm not in the room. Is it some kind of secret?"

"N… no… He's just… He's no one. He used to live on the Bebop with us, and he was a lazy, stupid bum, and now he's gone and out of our hair and no one is happier than me."

"Oh," He replied, shrugging. "That's too bad. In my head, I imagined he was some kind of really cool guy."

"Not even close. He wasn't even handsome."

"So, ugly, stupid, and lazy, huh? Then why do you guys sound so sad when you talk about him?"

Faye's heart panged. She'd gotten so used to the sadness around Spike and everything that reminded her of him, she had forgotten about it. "Oh, well, we just felt so sorry for him for being so ugly, stupid, and lazy."

"Whatever," Max laughed, lounging in his seat. "I bet he was cool. You just don't want to tell me because you guys were jealous of how cool he was."

She smiled in spite of herself. Max had that effect on her. Over the course of the week, she'd barely gone anywhere without the boy, and she honestly just loved his company. Max was a lot more pleasant than Jet, and she didn't feel quite so bitter and irritable when the boy was around. She felt that maybe he restored some of her youth. She discovered he had a little bit of Edward in him too, with his random, crazy ideas, usually involving something silly and fun like pranking Jet. On Wednesday, they took all of his bonsai trees and hid them around the ship. Friday afternoon, they replaced his liquor with bath water. Needless to say, Faye loved him.

Jet hated him.

Something wasn't right about the boy, that was for sure. In the short time that Jet had known Maxwell, he'd come to this conclusion. Despite his childish games, Jet thought the boy seemed… older than he was. His naivety seemed forced at times. He had questionable scars all over, and there was no way a boy got that many scars from playing with other children. He'd also been far too interested in getting off of Mars (which they still had yet to leave from).

And then there was one morning that he had failed to tell Faye about, mainly because of her affection for the boy.

Jet had gotten up early one morning after having a bad night's sleep and slipped into the main room. The boy was still sleeping on the couch, since he had no room to give him that didn't belong to Spike. The kid appeared to have fallen asleep without intending to, since Jet discovered him with his shoes still on. Innocently enough, Jet figured that he'd be more comfortable with them off, and knelt down to pull them off.

Before he could even get the end of the shoe over his heel, Max was up, and Jet was staring down the barrel of his gun.

As soon as Max realized that it was Jet, he put it away, stunned and somewhat embarrassed. "Oh… I…" He stammered.

Jet would have said more if he could have allowed himself to let go of the breath he held as he realized how long it had been since he'd come face to face with a pistol. Max deflected immediately, asking Jet what was for breakfast, and neither of them had spoken of it since.

Jet snipped a branch off of his bonsai tree.

What kind of fourteen year old would be so on edge that he could pull a gun on someone that quickly just for touching his shoes? It was that question that led him to other ones, like… Why the hell did he even have a gun? How much of what he had told them was true?

It just didn't sit right with Jet. He began to worry that in the end, Faye's therapy would end up with her being hurt, rather than the boy… but at this point, he really didn't know what action to take. After all, the possibility that he was just paranoid kept creeping up the back of his neck into his brain. The boy was orphaned and had lived on the streets, at least according to him… Perhaps it was all completely true. Mars was a rough place to live for poor folks, and a child like Maxwell was all too easy to fall into a difficult lifestyle…

…and that was even more unsettling.

Faye and Max stepped into the shady bar, The Rock 'n Roll Judas, which Faye thought was a terrible name for a bar. There was so much smoke in the air that it was difficult to discern one person from another, and the dim lighting only hindered their eyesight more. There were tables packed in the place like sardines with a long bar on the right wall. In the back left corner, there was a stage with a piano and a microphone, both currently unoccupied.

"Man, it's hard to see anything in this mess," Max whispered, elbowing Faye lightly. "How are we supposed to find him here?"

"Hey, keep in mind, if we can hardly see him, then he can hardly see us."

"Good point. You sure are smart, Faye," He gave her a large grin, showing her his missing tooth.

She shoved him with her hand on his face. "You're a brat. Don't even think I didn't hear your sarcasm in that comment."

He hooked an arm in hers and braved the smoke and crowds until they reached two bar stools and took a seat.

The bartender was an obese man, bald, missing teeth, and all around hideous. He had, however, a rather joyful countenance, and Faye couldn't decide if it made him better or worse looking. "How can I help you two today?"

Faye glanced at Max, about to tell him to explain what they were searching for, when the bartender exclaimed, "Well, well, look who it is! Didn't expect to ever see you in here again, Max-y, my boy!"

Max gave the bartender the same grin he'd just given Faye and shook his hand. "Good to see you again, Mr. Vander."

Faye glared at her companion, waiting for an explanation. He didn't mention his association with the place… He didn't even act like he'd ever been inside. She couldn't tell if this was for some real reason, or if he was just screwing with her for fun. If he was as much like Spike as she thought he was, it could be either reason.

"Who's this dame you got with you, Max-y? Girlfriend?"

"I appreciate that you think I'm capable of achieving such a thing, but no," Max replied, leaning his cheek on his fist. "This is Faye Valentine, and she'll eat your heart out if given the chance."

Mr. Vander chuckled at the response and shook Faye's hand too. "So, what brings you back to this part of town? I thought you were running off to find greener pastures."

"Gotta have green to get to greener pastures, Mr. V…" Max made direct eye-contact with the man, a smile just twitching on his lips. "I'm looking for a guy. King's his name. Hear a rumor he might be in this general area, and since you don't get better service at a bar than this place, I thought maybe you'd seen him?"

"King… King…" He paused and stared up at the ceiling fan that was doing no more than swirling the hot air in circles. "Actually, y'know, I do believe I remember a King fella'. Blonde guy, not bad lookin'. He's been comin' here every afternoon with some guys. They always sit at the back table by the piano. These guys are pretty big and tough-lookin'. I imagined he must have some problems if he has to hang out with guys like that."

"Excellent, my friend," Max's smile spread a bit. "You have a time frame for this occurrence?"

Faye was beginning to feel left out. Maxwell gathering information almost expertly. It appeared to her that he must have had plenty of friends in the slums of Mars. She wasn't exactly sure if that was a good thing or a bad one. Either way, she felt like he was the rookie, and he was supposed to act like it.

"Probably around three to five o'clock. It's never the exact same time."

"Mind if we hang out here until they come in?"

"Are you gonna stir up trouble?"

"Naturally."

"Just don't break anything. You break it, you bought it, you got it?"

"Yes, sir."

After a little small talk, Mr. Vander left them alone so that he could tend to his other customers, leaving Faye and Maxwell with beers on the house.

"Doesn't exactly check I.D. here, does he?" Faye mumbled, taking a swig. It was warm and rather vile, but she'd never been a big fan of beer anyway.

"Not for me, he doesn't. He used to let me come in and play piano for tips back when I was younger," He explained, and Faye couldn't help but laugh internally at the way he talked, as if he was an adult, "and me and the guys would get drinks at the end of the night when the place closed down before going about our business."

"The guys?" Faye questioned. "Who were these… guys?"

Max's eyes grew to the size of saucers, as though he'd realized he'd let something slip that he shouldn't. "The… guys… You know… my friends."

"Where are these guys now?" She asked.

He shrugged, turned away, and took a long swig out of the beer he'd been given. He couldn't hide the very slight tremble in his legs, even though he tried to by bouncing it impatiently. She dismissed it for now, deciding a better time to question him would be when they weren't surrounded by people and trying to keep an eye out for someone.

"So you play piano, huh?"

"Uh, yeah," He looked back at her, over his shoulder, refusing to make direct eye contact with her. "Nothin' too special. Some blues and jazz improvisations and whatnot, but I can't read music. It impresses the ladies on occasion, but it's not anything to write home about."

"Ah… I see…" Faye said, taking another gulp from her bottle. Each sip was just as vile as the last, but she was getting used to it. The fact that it was free was enough to make it taste better.

She thought with a bit of intrigue that she'd been right about Maxwell's fingers being for playing the piano, but lingering on the idea of playing started saddening her after a moment. In her restored memories, she'd discovered her first boyfriend had been a piano player. They were only fourteen then, and he'd written a song for her, and she'd swooned over him for nearly three months. They fell apart and broke up, just as most fourteen-year-olds did with their significant others, and she had cried as if she would never love again. She remembered distinctly how awkward it had been when they had choir class together after their break up, and how they had seldom spoken to each other after that. She regretted that…

She regretted a lot of things about that time.

The two of them sat there in silence for awhile, people-watching and occasionally checking the clock on the wall. Faye's eyes started tracing the scars on Maxwell's arm, and she slowly began to register that there were quite a few of them… a lot more than there should have been, she thought, but as reckless as he was, not improbable. There was also something questionable about Mr. Vander. Something… shady… His friendliness was less and less comfortable the longer she was around him. Just as she was about to try questioning the young boy about their history, he turned and said quietly, "He's here."

In entered King, looking as royal as his name with the bodyguards and gems on his fingers. When he wasn't running in terror, he cleaned up rather nicely, she admitted. His vision was hidden by a pair of dark sunglasses which surely made it impossible for him to see in the bar. Fortunate, for the two of them, at least.

"So, what do we do now, Faye?" Max whispered over her shoulder.

"Wait… don't make a move yet, okay?"

"Right…"

King took his seat at the table Vander has specified and ordered a round for him and his cronies.

"You said you practiced martial arts, right?" Faye asked Max.

"Yeah. I could beat the crap of the other kids at the orphanage, and most of the ones I wanted to feed dirt to were bigger and older than me."

"So, you're pretty good then."

"Yeah."

She didn't hold much faith in that. "Well, I just needed to be sure you could defend yourself if you were to lose your gun, that's all. Think you can distract the body guards long enough for me to get my hands on King?"

"Without a doubt," He said confidently.

"Do it, then."

He nodded, got to his feet, and shook out his limbs and hair. He snagged her sunglasses out of the front of her jacket as he moved, putting them on and approaching the table as casual as possible. His stride was confident, hands in his pockets, and she could almost see Spike silently approaching and sending a roundhouse kick into the first one to glance in his direction.

Max wasn't nearly so subtle.

He grabbed an empty chair, lifted it, and slammed it hard against one of the bodyguards' heads before any of them could even look up. As the one recovered, the other two leaped to their feet and pursued him.

Maxwell almost immediately took off running, climbing onto tables whether they were occupied or not, knocking over glasses and other people as he tried to escape.

"Kill him! Make sure of it!" King ordered, obviously recognizing him from before. Faye made a note as she sneaked up behind him that Max needed new clothes, and maybe a haircut if they intended to be stealthy in the future.

Max did a swan dive for the stage and landed with a roll underneath the piano. Just as one of the bodyguards made their way towards his hiding place to most likely choke the living daylights out of him, a gunshot resounded through the bar, sending innocent patrons scattering like cockroaches and the pursuer crashing down onto a table with a bloody hole in his chest.

With one dazed and the other injured, if not dead, there was only one bodyguard left to distract, and he was currently just trying to stay out of Max's firing range. She saw him ducked under the piano, sunglasses up on his head, gun pointed outwards. His face had lost any kind of humor, and his eyes had gone dark with the gravity of his situation.

Maybe he wasn't such a rookie after all…

"What the hell is the matter with you?" King shouted, losing his cool countenance. "Kill him, you idiot! He's a stupid brat! I hired you to protect me! What the fuck?"

He was so distracted that he didn't notice Faye approach from behind him. She was about to place her pistol to the back of his head and tell him to come quietly when another gunshot rang out through the room, and she felt the bullet just graze passed her hair. It was enough to momentarily rattle her.

The unharmed bodyguard had spotted her, aimed, and fired, but something had stopped him from making a good shot, and that something was Maxwell. He'd slithered from his hiding spot and attacked the man like a rabid animal, biting and clawing and punching and kicking in a most ungraceful fashion. Max managed to scratch and wound the man rather well before the man took hold of him and threw him like rag doll over one of the tables. Beer bottles and glasses shattered underneath Max's body, and he tumbled ungracefully to the floor in a bruised, bloody heap.

Faye had fired her Glock at the bodyguard before he could lay another hand on the boy, blasting through his temple with an alarming accuracy she wasn't even aware she had…

His beat up, thin form, there… on the ground… looked way too much like…

She slammed King against the wall, pressing the barrel of her gun against his back. "I've got you now. It'd be best if you came quietly."

Behind her, she heard Maxwell shifting, meaning that he was okay. It was relieving.

"Aw… fuck…" He grumbled, getting to his feet and dusting the glass off of his now ripped shirt and pants. "Yo, Vander!"

The bartender had stood and watched the events with alarming calm, as though these sorts of events were typical in his bar. He almost seemed to be getting some sort of sick thrill out of it. "What's up, Max-y?"

"Put all the damages on Mr. King's tab. After all, he's the one who caused all the trouble, right?"

King was sobbing as the police dragged him away. Max had made sure to dig all of his money out of his wallet and hand it over to the bartender before the cops had arrived, and now he and Faye stood outside, squinting in the bright sunlight.

Max's wounds had clotted, and the blood had started to dry to his skin. His wounds were not nearly as bad as they had first seemed. It appeared that Max knew just how to turn his body to avoid major injury. It wasn't his scratches and bumps that disturbed Faye… It was that far off, glassy look in his eyes, as though there was a storm brewing inside of him… or… no, that wasn't accurate. It looked like…

He seemed just as beast-like as he had in the bar, as though he was ready to scratch and claw his way through anything and everything. His naivety had been wiped off of him for the moment, no shred of it even hanging off of his shoulders… and it was now she realized that there was something animal-like in him from the beginning. He wasn't a lost puppy, but he was certainly a stray.

She was beginning to wonder if his resemblance to Spike was merely physical… or if perhaps trouble followed along behind him in the same way it followed the bounty hunter.

"Max… are… you okay?" She asked hesitantly, almost afraid he'd snarl and bite he seemed so vicious.

Vicious.

She remembered how much she hated that word.

And suddenly his curtain fell, and he was back to the same old Max she'd gotten used to. "I'll mend!" He grinned.

She didn't say another word, and they traveled back to the Bebop with their earnings in silence.