A/N: I updated my profile so you guys have to read it because I put up a new site for the fics and for the soundtracks! So pls stop by and read and then visit the site. :)
Chapter Thirty - Five: Plan B:
When he left that night, he didn't tell anyone. He didn't need another worry fest. Waking himself up, dressing and preparing, he had smelled food floating toward his room. He was going to end up showing up to Black Jack's starving, it seemed. Opening his door and slipping on his coat, he hesitated. Jet was in the kitchen, staring silently into the wok of frying peppers. Not saying a word. But everything he was thinking was clearly on his face. He stared at him, thoughtfully, waiting. And the moment the stockier bounty hunter turned away toward the refrigerator he slipped out into the hallway and turned away from the kitchen. Passing through the common room, he caught sight of Ed seated on the metal table, Ein asleep at her side. He didn't pause, quickly climbing the stairs. Casting a look over his shoulder as he reached the top of the stairs, he slowed when he realized Ed was watching him.
"Spike-person going for Faye-Faye?" she asked solemnly, her goggles low over her eyes.
He nodded swiftly, silently.
She rewarded him with one of the softest smiles he had ever seen on her face. "Good luck," she said with a wave.
He smiled back at her. And then he disappeared into the hallway, trench coat floating around his tall frame.
Jet lifted his head as he heard the clang of the hangar doors open. He glanced down the hallway, thoughtfully and then turned and strode down the corridor, his hand slapping roughly on the console outside Spike's door.
The door swished open, the room empty.
"Ed!" he shouted, coming back to the doorway. Ed's head appeared, poking out into view from the common room.
"Hmm?" she asked curiously, blinking large amber eyes.
"Where is Spike?" he demanded.
Ed blinked a bit more, slender frame positioned at an awkward angle. "Spike-person went out," she replied and she vanished once more as she turned her attention back to her laptop.
Jet stormed down the corridor, his muscles stiff. He wouldn't have. He wouldn't have gone out without saying something. "Out where?" he barked at the net diver as he entered the common room.
Ed leaned back once more, her head tilting over onto her shoulders to look at him upside down. "Mars," she replied as if the question had been silly. And she righted herself yet again, hands coming down on the keyboard and tapping distractedly.
"But…" Jet hesitated, his tone softening. "He didn't say anything."
Ed shrugged absentmindedly, ducking a bit to stare at Tomato's screen. "Spike-person didn't want to worry Bebop," she murmured. And she glanced at him, turning her head slightly. "Spike-person went in for Faye-Faye."
Jet nodded, glancing up once more as the hangar doors clanged shut a moment later. "Yeah," he sighed. "And he doesn't even like her that much."
Ed didn't look up that time but a small smile crossed her lips as she tapped away.
This would be a piece of cake, he decided. He had done this before, one night over three years before. Almost four years now. He had gone in to the syndicate headquarters and he had walked into a waiting bloodbath. And then he had done it once more, less than a year earlier. One bloodbath after another. He had seen so much blood, had gotten so much of it on him that even after he showered he was still soaked in it. It just wouldn't come off anymore. He looked down at his hands on his controls, one gloved hand over the accelerator, and he had thrown out his old gloves because they had been red. Red gloves, red blood. There was always blood. Now he had on a pair of black gloves. It would only be a matter of time before these also would be soiled with someone's blood.
And who was he even doing this for? Faye? Faye Valentine? His hands tightened on his controls, his jaw clenching. They were barely friends and here he was risking his life for her. Granted, she had never asked for his help. In fact, she had been of the entirely opposite mindset when it had come to confronting Black Jack. But he didn't owe her anything. He never had. And now even more so.
"Your true colors. They're finally coming through."
He was a downright ass for doing this. He was going to get himself killed for her. And he couldn't even know whether she was even alive to begin with. He stared out into the open night, at the clouds barely moving above him.
Her star was still shining overheard, hidden occasionally by the clouds. Hidden but present. He was going to believe then that she was still alive. No matter how pale and distant that star seemed.
Setting down the Swordfish across the street from the building, Spike examined the height of the structure. And he managed to suppress the smile that threatened to come to life when he saw the shattered windows of the 29th floor. Obviously his little grenade had caused at least some damage to the floor. The repairs were underway as was evident from the cranes on the street and also hanging over the roof of the skyscraper but it seemed the workers had gone home for the night.
He scanned the area around him. The Redtail was gone. He hadn't been able to take it with him when he had left with Ed and it seemed Black Jack had taken care of the ship once he had escaped. Which meant he would have to rescue Faye and her damn ship.
Hopping out of his cockpit he secured the ship and paused a long moment, digging into his pocket for his box of cigarettes. He pushed aside several small grenades to get to the box casually.
The building was going to look beautiful when it was torn apart in flames and destruction.
He smoked a single cigarette in the night, gazing up at the skyscraper. Such a quiet and lovely night. "Sorry," he murmured to no one as he flicked away the butt of the cigarette. "But I'm about to make a mess." And with that he strode forward, hopping over the edge of the roof onto the fire escape to climb down. Within moments he was on the ground, taking his sweet time crossing the street to the glass doors of the skyscraper.
Plan B would always trump Plan A in his opinion. It was better to just barge in through the front than the back. Or the roof.
Pushing the rotating glass doors, he sauntered in, one hand slipping into his pocket. The security console to his right was bare except for one lonely guard. The wall rounded behind the console, leading off down a small corridor and vanishing. As he walked in the guard immediately snapped to his feet, his jaw dropping open.
"I guess you recognize me, huh?" Spike questioned him quietly. And with a small shrug he pulled forth his Jericho and lifted it, aiming.
The guard dove for the console, a hand reaching to the controls.
Spike pulled the trigger, putting an easy bullet into the guard's chest. The man toppled with a muffled grunt and Spike turned his head straight once more, his jaw set. He wasn't going to care this time around about being careful or quiet or sneaky. This was the full blown attack he was used to, the one he had wanted from the beginning when devising a plan to take Jack down. He had tried Ed's way and now he was reverting to his own way of handling it. Striding across the lobby, he frowned as he heard movement coming from the bend behind the security console. And instinctively, irritation crossing his features, he dug into his pocket, drawing his Jericho close to his side. Pulling forth a small round grenade, he popped the pin and absentmindedly flung it, darting toward the elevators.
The sound of glass shattering deafened him as the grenade exploded, the concussive force blowing his coat around his legs and shoving him across the floor. With a slight arch to an eyebrow he glanced back over the way he had tossed the grenade, squinting through the smoke.
"Ooh, I like these grenades," he said quietly, eyes widening. "Good going, Jet."
A sudden shrill alarm sounded then, his head snapping up. That was his cue right there. Quickly, he moved toward the elevator and clapped his hand on the up button. Outside the lobby cars were screeching to a halt, horns blowing and scattered people outside beginning to scream in terror. He looked back over quickly and darted in through the elevator doors instantly as they came open. Once inside he slammed his hand down on the 25th floor and lifted the Jericho, aiming at the security camera stationed in the upper left hand corner. One bullet destroyed it as the doors closed and he wasted no time holstering his Jericho and looking up at the ceiling of the elevator.
Soothing music came on, bringing him a confused stop. "Wow. Elevator music? Really?" he sighed in defeat. And he lifted his hands up, smashing a fist into, and dislodging, a flat aluminum sheet from the roof. Tilting it upward he pushed the sheet aside to give him access to the elevator shaft. Without another word he hopped up, taking hold of the edge and he hefted himself up, disappearing through the gap.
The elevator was climbing amazingly fast, he noted as he made it up and stood on top of the elevator. He glanced up and around himself, the speed of the elevator whipping his hair around his face. He gauged the distance critically. He would reach the 25th floor in another few moments and from there he could climb up the elevator cables to get onto the 28th floor. He could scale three floors, no problem. His initial worry was being beaten to the punch. If they knew where he was going and which way he was getting there, they would make sure to get there first. Which meant a bit of confusion and mayhem on his part. And he wasn't even sure he would be able to fool them. Once Black Jack's security regrouped they would probably block off all the elevators and exits, guarding the way straight to Black Jack himself.
As the elevator slowed, he examined the doors that flew past him. He hadn't been able to pry those doors open before but he hadn't had any kind of tools to use. This time he was very much prepared. Reaching into the waistband of his pants he pulled out a switchblade and flicked it open, bringing it to his mouth and clenching it horizontally between his lips. And as the elevator came to a stop with a muffled ding, he took hold of the cable and began to heft himself up. After two floors of hoisting himself along the cable his muscles began to hurt, his gunshot wound pulling at him.
He had forgotten to take those painkillers.
After scaling the last stretch he reached the 28th floor and glanced toward the doors, examining them. They seemed very solidly shut. Unwinding his legs from the cable he reached one out and set it down on the slight ledge afforded him from the 28th floor doorway, stretching out with one hand to take hold of the elevator framework. It wasn't much of a ledge but just enough to dig his fingers into it to hold him. Carefully he released the cable with his other hand and flattened himself immediately to the doors, breathing heavily around the knife clenched between his lips. That was enough of a workout for the day.
Releasing the frame just to take hold of the knife, he twisted it to grasp the handle and drove the blade in between the closed doors. It slid in and caught and he twisted it to the side, teeth clenching as the doors fought him. He just needed a slight part to stick his fingers in. Just one tiny inch. Muscles tightening, he forced more effort, quite aware that either the doors would give or his blade would. But he would be damned before he allowed his knife to snap.
The doors began to part, separating, and he quickly dragged his hand away from the doorframe to take hold of one door, nearly losing his balance. It would be a miserable drop to his death, he thought grimly. Definitely not the way he would want to go. Through the slight part he became aware of the alarms blaring once more. Yanking his blade out, he returned it to his mouth and brought his free hand to grasp the other door, now maintaining himself from the shaft by his grip alone. Pulling them apart just enough, he shoved a foot between them to hold them from each other and rested momentarily.
He didn't even like the wench.
Shaking his head, he resumed his efforts to pull the doors apart, inching them open bit by bit until there was enough of a gap to allow him to slip in. Squeezing through the doors, he stumbled in and paused for another breather, pulling the blade from his mouth and closing it. Returning the switchblade to his pocket, he stared as the elevator doors remained parted, breathing harshly. Perhaps he should have waited longer than a day for a rescue attempt. He hunched over, stretching and rotating his arms to ease the strain of his muscles.
The elevator dinged faintly from the shaft and he turned his head to look toward the console on the wall, his eyes resting on the down arrow as it lit up.
No, that just would not do.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out another small grenade and then straightened, moving toward the parted elevator doors. Pulling the tiny pin free he tossed the small item in and immediately moved to push the doors closed again. He doubted much of the explosion would reach him once the grenade went off but he didn't want to ruin his coat either.
Sliding the doors shut was easier than opening them. And a few moments later, as the elevator dinged far below, the burst sounded, shaking the floor under his feet. He smiled evilly, darting backward from the elevator doors and then spun around to search the floor. The mysterious 28th floor. The lights were dimmed here, the floor carpeted and almost cozy. Pulling out his Jericho once more he strode down the hall cautiously, feeling a bit let down.
This was supposed to be the big showdown and there didn't seem to be anyone around to care.
Striding past an emergency exit, he looked ahead once more, his eyes falling on the office at the end of the hall. He remembered the office doors from the recording the snitch had died for. It seemed like such a long time ago now. Wearily, his face pinched, Spike raised his Jericho and fired off three rounds into the glass doors for good measure, the pane smashing and falling to pieces on the carpeted floor. And through the gaping holes left behind he saw the slightest movement as someone recoiled.
Feeling anger now well up inside him Spike took the rest of the corridor running, lifting his legs and crashing through what remained of the glass doors. The doors were flung open under his weight, glass sprinkling the carpet and he already had the Jericho aimed when he caught sight of the young man darting behind Jack's desk, up against an entire wall of floor to ceiling windows. Following him with the weapon, he put two bullets into the top of the wooden desk, already snarling. "Don't move!"
There was complete silence from behind the desk but he wasn't about to be fooled.
"Stand up. Slowly," he ordered, the Jericho unwavering in his grasp, the alarm drowning out bits of his sentence. "If you don't I have no problem killing you."
The person behind the desk did not come out.
With an inward sigh, Spike took a step and kicked off, leaping onto the desktop and quickly lowering his Jericho toward the figure crouching there. "I asked nicely the first time. This time I'm not asking. Get up."
The boy lifted piercing blue eyes to him, his hands lifting at his sides slowly.
Spike motioned with a quick jerk of his weapon. "Up. Straight up. And to the side so I can get off this damn table."
Silently, the hacker rose to his full height, hands still raised. An eyebrow arching defiantly, the boy stepped to his right and away from the desk.
Still aiming the weapon at him, Spike hopped off the table down to the floor. "Just the person I think I need," he said to the boy with a slight smile.
The hacker hesitated, his head tilting slightly at his words.
Glancing around, Spike caught sight of the boy's laptop on the floor. "Where is my friend? Is she alive?" he asked the hacker, his tone demanding.
The boy did not respond, his jaw clenching.
Mirroring his gesture, Spike took a step forward, now pressing the barrel of his weapon against the boy's smooth forehead. "I'm really not going to ask again. Either you tell me or I come back with my own hacker and figure it out myself." And he motioned to the upended laptop on the floor.
With a small twist to his lips, the boy answered in slightly accented English, speaking loudly to be heard. "Your friend is down in the sub-levels."
Spike blinked at that. "What's in the sub-levels?" he questioned, frowning.
"The cryolabs."
Spike managed to bite back the groan that threatened to slip out of him. Damn, she was going to destroy him when he got her back. That was all she needed, another cryosleep. He could already feel the pain she would try to inflict on him.
"You can't just move her," the boy said to him, bringing his attention back. "McCullough-san placed her in a deep sleep. She's hurt."
Spike felt his muscles clench. "Yeah, I get that. But I'd rather someone else look at her now, thanks." And he motioned to the laptop. "Grab the laptop. You're going to do me a small favor before I let you go."
The boy stared at him. "Let me…go?" he asked him as if he didn't quite believe him.
"Yes. Let you go. But favor first. Grab the laptop."
Wordlessly but still looking confused the Asian boy moved slowly toward the laptop and then bent over to pick it up. Holding it in his grip he glanced at Spike.
"Have a seat. At the desk," Spike ordered loudly, motioning with the Jericho.
The hacker silently moved back toward the desk, his blue eyes skimming the top of the bullet ridden surface. Placing the laptop down to cover the holes, he seated himself gingerly at the desk and waited for Spike.
"Ok, so I need you to knock out all security cameras and password consoles. If you would be so kind," Spike said with a sigh, glancing toward the doorway intently. It was possible there would be security guards on their way to Jack's office but at the moment he heard nothing except the blaring alarm. He skimmed the office with his eyes, taking in all details and thinking furiously. Floor to ceiling windows made up the entire south wall of the office. And he remembered those windows from the day the snitch had died, from the recording and also from flying past them. He remembered seeing Jack at one of those windows, his face dark, the snitch's body indenting a car far below. Spike caught sight of one side of the wall of windows. Window curtain cord. Lovely.
The hacker was slow in doing as he had been asked.
Circling him to see over his shoulder, Spike took a moment to observe his work. Password upon password and he also had small smiley faces as he bypassed security systems. "Don't you have your own passwords?" he demanded of the boy.
The boy threw him a withering look. "Of course I have my own passwords. But the system went into lockdown once you began to blow up the building. The system doesn't recognize passwords and codes now. I have to bypass all security checkpoints the hard way."
Spike growled deep in his throat, impatient. "Well see if you can move a bit faster then," he ordered. And he moved toward the curtains where they had been secured at posts on either side of the windows. Reaching into his pocket, his eyes on the hacker, he pulled out his blade once more and opened it with a flick of his wrist.
The hacker's shoulders flinched at the sound, his fingers slowing momentarily. But then, warily, he continued on once more, his smiley faces littering the laptop screen.
With a smooth motion, Spike bent and swiped the blade across the bottom of a curtain rope, easily severing it. The hacker glanced over his shoulder as the curtain fell loose and obscured some of the moonlight trailing in but Spike motioned for him to continue with his Jericho, his jaw tight.
The hacker turned back to his laptop, fingers resuming their work.
Standing on tiptoe, Spike cut the rope close toward the top of its length, stepping away as the rope fell into a small pile at his feet. Closing the switchblade up once more, he returned it to his pocket and stooped to pick up the rope with his free hand, winding it around his hand and elbow to loop it.
"I'm done," the hacker said quietly, sitting up straight. And sure enough, a moment later the alarm cut off, silence settling over them.
Spike strode over to him, tilting his weapon and putting two bullets into the screen of the laptop. "Great," he said as the boy jumped slightly. Propping the looped curtain rope around his shoulder, he took hold of the laptop by the edge of the screen and then turned toward the window. Lifting his Jericho he blew random shots at the glass, creating spider cracks across its surface. The hacker watched him with a slight frown, now looking the smallest bit worried.
Seeming almost bored, Spike flung the laptop at the window, not even registering the glass as it shattered. The hacker made a small sound of defeat as the laptop sailed out into the night, small shards of glass following its fall.
"Yeah, it sucks," Spike agreed. And he turned to the hacker once more, a smile lighting his face. "And now I'm going to tie you up."
The hacker stared at him, color draining from his face as Spike pulled the rope from his shoulder.
And a moment later an explosion rocked the building, Spike faltering as the floor underneath him shook. Frowning and sliding slightly, he lifted his weapon toward the hacker as the boy lunged to his feet. "What the hell was that?" he demanded of the boy.
The hacker looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "That wasn't you?" he asked him.
"No, that wasn't me!" Spike snapped at him. And he wound the rope around his shoulder once more, taking hold of the hacker by the shirt and shoving him ahead of him. Pressing the gun to the back of the boy's head he barked at him. "Walk!"
Stumbling, the hacker allowed him to push him on ahead, moving gingerly toward the door Spike had barged in through. The password console beside the door was offline, the usual lights dim. At least the consoles were down as he had asked. He stopped the hacker with a stiff grip and leaned over slightly to look through the broken glass of the doorframe.
The corridor was still empty.
"You said she was downstairs. In the sub-levels, right?" he questioned the hacker, pressing the Jericho to his back, directly between his shoulder blades.
The hacker nodded silently, head bowing slightly at feeling the Jericho's barrel at his back.
"Ok. Thanks for all your help," Spike said to him. And he lifted his Jericho, bringing the butt down roughly on the back of the hacker's head.
The hacker toppled without a sound, slipping to the carpeted floor.
With a small groan, Spike bent and took hold of the hacker's collar, immediately dragging him to the side. Leaning him against the wall, he unwound the curtain rope from his shoulder and bent to the task at hand.
Jack lifted his head from the console as all power failed around him. Blinking in the sudden darkness he waited for a long moment, counting down. And then, within the first five counts, the lights turned back on, the backup generator kicking in. He glanced toward Faye's figure in the cryo-chamber and she hadn't moved in the cylinder when the power had gone down.
The fact that the generators had turned on meant that something had happened in the above levels, to his online systems. He moved toward the security console beside the doors to the lab and hesitated as he realized that they were offline. Stiffening slightly, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a small communicator.
"Kazuo," he growled into it, waiting for a response. And when there was no immediate response he tried again. "Oi, Kazuo."
No one answered.
Frowning, he changed tactic. "Scat!"
The response came within moments. "Scat here."
Jack went to speak, breaking off when he heard the sudden commotion coming from the thicker man's side of communication. "What the hell is going on up there?" he demanded.
The man on the other line hesitated. "You know those security guys who shot at Valentine?"
Jack's fingers tightened on the communicator. "What about them?"
"The ones whose families you had picked up and…taken care of?"
"What about them?" Jack shouted into the communicator.
Scat's voice lowered into a mumble, the commotion in his background tempering slightly. "They're here. And they're looking for you."