A Day Like Any Other
Chapter 2: Jet Black and the Bounty from Hell
It was a good idea. Matter of fact, it was a damn good idea. Jet cracked a small smile as he piloted the Hammerhead into the dock on Ganymede. He docked, his body still loose and his mind still blissfully at ease, and stepped out of the ship. He smiled wider as he put a hand up to shield his eyes from the sharp sun overhead. He stepped off the dock and smiled as he brought out his comm. unit, the smile getting bigger with every passing second.
No small, strange child hung from his arm as he lifted it, swinging and singing some made up song. No tiny, freakishly intelligent dog sat at his ankle looking up at him as though he were the dumbest being on the face of the planet. And best of all, no bickering could be heard from his two annoying crewmates, that in general were more trouble than they were worth.
Yep, splitting up had been one hell of a great idea. Jet's smile widened as he looked over the data sheet on the bounty he was going after. Name: Satan Sal. Known offenses: burglary and aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. Defining Characteristics: red body suit, small devil horns, and a pitch fork. Yet again, unable to suppress the reaction, Jet's eyes widened and then rolled.
"Damn, Ed, where do you find these guys." He mumbled the words as he watched the information scroll further until finally landing on the blinking green numbers of the price on his head. 75 Million Woolongs. "Well, the price is right." He smirked as he placed the unit back in his pocket.
Before moving along Jet did a quick pat down over his loose fitting jacket; he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something. Cigarettes upper left. ID upper right. Gun middle left. Cigarettes middle right. Wallet lower right. He smiled as he began to walk off the dock, finishing his metal check list as he went. Handcuffs middle of his back. Gun at the left ankle. And joyfully no oatmeal in his right shoe. Don't ask. Jet exited the East dock with as much of a skip to his step as his demeanor would allow.
** 2hrs later
"Spike, handle it." Jet practically screamed into the comm. unit, pushing the blinking red light hard and sending Spike far away. He ran his cool metal hand over his face, breathing out a disgruntled sigh. Startled a bit by the silence that now surrounded him, Jet looked up and around the small family restaurant. All the patrons had stopped everything, some even in mid-bite, to look up and stare at him. His eyes locked on a small boy with unruly brown hair and noodles hanging from his mouth. Jet gave him a slow, and what he considered a friendly smile, to which the boys eyes widened and he inhaled the noodles so fast he nearly choked. Jet grimaced a bit as he placed his gaze back on the newspaper on the table before him. Satan Sal Strikes Again. Oh great. Wonder if this means the bounty is going to be raised? Jet began to skim the article but found himself lingering on the photo right under the headline. The picture was of a square shaped man, larger in more areas than he was small, dressed in a red body suit that really didn't help to flatter his figure. Little red devil horns sat on his head, surrounded by a dark kinky mop of hair. The best part, and the part that Jet just couldn't seem to believe, was the big black pitch fork he held up to the camera as he spray painted his trademark devil head on the camera.
Where exactly did a guy get a pitchfork anyway? And for that matter how did a guy carrying a pitchfork stay so damn hidden in a city like this? Jet shrugged a bit and skimmed the article for the name of the last place he robbed. Athena Mutual, not far from this place. Jet folded the paper and put it under his arm as he stood up. He dropped a few Woolongs on the table to pay for his coffee and smiled at the still wide eyed boy as he passed.
Beep.
Jet winced as he stepped out of the restaurant, and pulled out his comm. unit. After a few seconds of the annoying little beep he finally pressed the blinking red button.
"Jet!" Faye's wide eyed face was practically smashed into the screen.
"What?" He snapped his eyes going to the two old women that passed him. He smiled.
"I don't deserve this." Faye began. "I'm never going to catch anything with----" He disconnected Faye's rant and placed the comm. unit back in his pocket, and began to stroll down the block towards Athena Mutual.
Even when they split up, they managed to complain to him about one thing or another. Well he wasn't going to handle it today, today was his day. He's been catching criminals longer than either of those two and for some damn reason every time they went after a bounty he always ended up staying on the ship. Well, not today, and if all went as planned, never again. He pushed through the glass doors of Athena Mutual and stepped in a large puddle of red paint.
"Watch it, sir." Jet looked down and found a young man in a janitor uniform looking up at him. "We're trying to clean up so we can open," the man said.
"Oh yeah?" Jet said staring at his now paint covered shoe.
"Yeah considering the place was robbed," the young man said scratching under his nose. "Didn't you see it in the paper? Big deal. That Satan Sal he's a real dog, and no one can seem to find him."
"I've heard." Jet mumbled. "Did you see the guy?"
"Nope," the guy said shaking his head. "I was off. Too bad really, I hear it was quite the show. Pauly over there," the man pointed to another man in a painters uniform washing off a wall with a large painted devil head on it. "He was here. He said that Satan Sal was real pissed off, yelling and screaming about one thing or another."
"No kidding?" Jet said as he began walking towards the other man.
"You shouldn't be in here." The man named Pauly said as Jet approached.
"That looks messy." Jet said pointing to the red devil head. Pauly merely raised an eyebrow at Jet and crossed his arms over his chest. "I hear you got a first hand look at Satan Sal?"
"Yeah, crazy bastard." Pauly said uncrossing his arms. "You a bounty hunter?"
Jet nodded. "You hear anything that might be of any use to me?"
"Depends," Pauly said smirking.
"Right." Jet nodded and smirked, while debating how to get the information. If Faye were here she would just charm it out of him, and probably get herself dinner in the meantime. If Spike were here he would just walk away, not really caring what the man had to say. Jet scratched his beard. What the hell would Jet do?
"Look, I've got to get back to work, so---" Pauly began to turn.
"Yeah, well, thanks anyway." Jet began to turn, thinking it probably wasn't worth it anyway.
"You really here to catch him?" Pauly asked. Jet turned and nodded once. "Well, I may have heard something to help you." Jet didn't move, merely crossed his arms over his chest and waited. "Well it wasn't really heard so much as seen. I didn't tell the cops or show them 'cause I figured I'd maybe go after him. You know get some money for myself. But you seem like a better man for the job than me." Pauly moved his hands and began rummaging in his pockets, his eyes staring at Jet's metallic limb. "Here," Pauly shoved a crumpled receipt at Jet and did a quick look over to make sure no one was watching. "That fell out of his suit while he was here. Good luck." And with that Pauly turned back to the wall that he was cleaning.
Jet stared at the crumpled paper in his hand for a minute, then looked back up at the cleaning Paully. Looks like Jet's thing is to just be patient. Jet rolled his eyes. Patience. Huh, who would have guessed he needed that living where he did? He suppressed the snicker and smoothed the small paper as he walked out of Athena Mutual.
Jingo's Dry Cleaning Service. Jet halted his steps. It was a receipt for the dry cleaning of one red body suit, and the order was made out for Sal Toggers. Jet smirked at the receipt and walked over to the nearest phone booth to look up where Jingo's Dry Cleaning was. Looks, like Satan Sal had a real name, and impressively was worried about his suit looking good. Lucky breaks are absolutely fantastic. This case was pretty much in the bag. Jet ripped out the page containing the address for Jingo's which was a quick railway ride away, and also flipped to the page for T. He found about six Toggers, S. and decided to just rip the whole damn page and figure it out later.
**3 hours later
Jet banged his head off the counter as he leaned over, repeating the ritual every time the man he had discovered to be Jingo said the words "No Satan."
"Look," Jet mumbled, his face smashed into the cold counter. He picked up his head and looked the short balding man in the eyes. "I'm not calling you a Satan worshipper. I don't give a damn what you worship."
"No Satan," The man said shaking his head. "We run a good store here, you can't come in here and harass us like this. I'm calling the police."
"No." Jet rolled his eyes as he straightened up. He'd been trying to get this man to understand for the past hour, after an hour ride due to the train de-railing and then waiting another hour for them to open back up after lunch. Jet was hungry and he was in no mood to deal with this. Patience was not working this time. Jet reached over the counter and pulled the small man up. "I just want to know where Satan Sal is."
"No-" the man began shaking his head.
"You say that one more time and I'm going to shove you in that hole over there." Jet said inclining his head to a very small laundry shoot beside Jingo. Jingo's mouth closed instantly. "I know he was here, and I know you know where I can find him." Jet brought the man closer. "Now you just check the damn computer and find out where Sal Toggers lives." Jet lowered the man to his feet and watched as the older man's eyes widened and then he smiled.
"Toggers. I know that one, very funny." Jingo nodded as he typed into the computer. "Why didn't you say you wanted the Toggers?"
Jet just stood there his mouth hanging open as he watched the thin old man type and smile. "I don't know." Jet said very slowly.
"Toggers lives at 459 West Gregory." Jingo said, as he smiled at Jet. Jet stepped back from the counter and quickly exited the Jingo's Dry Cleaners. He wiped his hand over his face and began walking back towards the rail station. West Gregory was back over by Athena Mutual.
"Watch out!" A man yelled and Jet spun around to watch a large ice cream cart skidding down the street. Jet jumped back out of the way of the out of control cart and caught a glimpse of a red devil head on the side of it.
"No way." Jet said to himself as his eyes went back up to the top of the street where the cart had apparently come from. "Well, I'll be damned." Jet said as he began to run towards the large man in the red body suit brandishing a pitchfork. He smiled as he ran, completely oblivious to the chaos surrounding him and the random ice cream cones that now scattered the street.
Jet reached the top of the street and came face to face with Satan Sal, both men just stopped.
"Shit." Sal screeched and then smacked Jet in the face with the blunt end of the pitchfork as he turned to run. Jet tottered a bit and fell against the wall cursing at the blood that he pulled away from his lips. The sun was beginning to set now and Jet was off and running after the big red blob that was disappearing into the sunset.
"Come back here! Stop!" Jet yelled, rolling his eyes at himself. How many times did yelling stop actually work?
Satan Sal disappeared into a hotel and Jet entered not too long after him, just in time to finish watching the sun set. Jet stopped and caught his breath, his eyes darting about the hotel lobby looking for any sign of the man in red. It's just damn amazing how well a man with a fucking pitchfork can blend in. It was the scream that caught Jet's attention and had him spinning towards the stairwell. He ran and busted through the door his gun pulled out.
"AHHH!" the woman on the stairs screamed as she came face to face with Jet's gun. Her fingers trembled as she brought them up to her face. Jet cocked his head to the side noting the large red smear of paint on her maid's uniform.
"Where did he go?" Jet barked out as he ran up the few steps separating them. The woman pointed a shaking hand up the stairs and Jet zoomed past her. She then sat down on the stairs and cried as she rubbed at her shirt. Jet stopped as he rounded the bend to the next stairwell and saw the woman on the stairs.
"You hurt?" He practically yelled down at the woman. He watched as she shook her sobbing head and he nodded and started up the next flight of stairs.
Red paint dripped off the railing and Jet practically grinned as he followed his prey's trial. As he rounded the next sharp corner to head up the next flight of stairs he was hit in the chest with the blunt end of the pitchfork again and sent back down that flight of stairs. Jet landed hard on his ass, he yelled a few explicative phrases that even he's ashamed of and got back to his feet. Spike probably would have anticipated that. Hell, Faye probably would have shot the guy already. Jet let out a primal yell as he ran up the flight of stairs and onto the landing of the roof. He opened the steel door and found himself face to face with a can of spray paint.
"Shit." Jet yelled, just as Satan Sal pushed down the button and sent a crimson spray all over the front of Jet. He could taste it in his mouth and feel it seep through his shirt and under to his skin. That's it! He raised his gun and smashed the butt of it into Sal's head, sending the man careening to the hard ground. Jet wiped a hand down his face and pulled away some of the red spray paint.
"You hit me!" Satan Sal said as he tried to get to his feet, using the pitchfork for support.
"You hit me first!" Jet yelled back putting his hand to his chin while pointing his gun at the downed man in red. "And you knocked me down a flight of stairs, and spray painted me."
"But you hit me." Satan Sal repeated small tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. Jet stood utterly perplexed as the large man began to sob, his poofy, tangled mess of hair bobbing with his head. "You hit a woman!"
"Woman?!" Jet voice almost cracked as he screamed the word at the quivering mass of red on the floor.
"Yes, woman!" Sal yelled back, though his face was covered by his hands now, the pitchfork lay forgotten on the ground. Jet took a step forward.
"You're a woman?" Jet inquired leaning down low as he practically whispered it.
"Yes you idiot, can't you tell." Sal's face shot to Jet's and Jet just stared. He looked at the lumpy mass of black tangles a top the head of his bounty and figured it could be a bad perm job. Then down to the large unibrow, the slits for eyes, the large broken nose and the big lips and cocked his head to the side.
"Uh, well," he began as he stood up. "Sorry, I guess." Jet grimaced and brought his gun up. "That doesn't change the fact that I'm taking you in. And that you deserved to be hit."
"I know, I just wanted to be noticed." Sal said as he, or she, or whatever the hell, it stood up. "I hate never being noticed."
"Yeah," Jet hunched down and helped the woman in the red devil suit to her feet. "I hear ya sister." Jet then placed the handcuffs on Sal's wrists, placed his gun in his holster, and bent down to pick up the pitchfork. "Where did you get this anyway?"
"Internet." Sal said as Jet nodded and led her down the stairs.
"Should have guessed." Jet said as the exited the roof.
**2 and a half hours later
Why exactly did Ed have control the Bebop? Why did she have to move it all around so that he could never find his own damn ship? Jet cracked his neck from his seat in the Hammerhead, utterly glad to leave the world of Satan Sal far, far away. It was late now, having spent an hour at ISSP trying to convince them that the person he brought in was in fact Satan Sal. Apparently they didn't believe that the still quivering and sobbing lump of red sitting on the bench was the notorious criminal that they had so much trouble getting. Well, screw them. Jet walked out of the headquarters carrying his new lucky walking stick, which just happened to be a nice black pitchfork.
Beep.
The proximity alert went off and Jet smiled at the sight of the Bebop. He felt some of the dried blood on his chin crack a bit as he smiled, and felt the large gash open up again. His ass was sore from the fall down the stairs, his mouth was sore from the hit he took, and he was covered in red spray paint. He hoped to all that was good and right with the world that Spike and Faye weren't back yet.
He docked his ship and nearly fell out of it, jarring his already sore back. He grabbed the pitchfork and used it as a sort of cane, feeling very old all of a sudden. He clamped a tight hand on to the wall for support, leaning the pitchfork on the wall beside him. He felt the trickle of blood go down from his mouth and entwine itself in his sweat drenched beard. He ran his cool metal hand down his hot face and then put it to his shirt, he grimaced and pulled away the now crimson covered hand. If those two were back, and they so much as raised an eyebrow at him, he was going to impale them on his pitch fork.
"Bark."
More to come soon, we've still got two days to go. Enjoy!
Chapter 2: Jet Black and the Bounty from Hell
It was a good idea. Matter of fact, it was a damn good idea. Jet cracked a small smile as he piloted the Hammerhead into the dock on Ganymede. He docked, his body still loose and his mind still blissfully at ease, and stepped out of the ship. He smiled wider as he put a hand up to shield his eyes from the sharp sun overhead. He stepped off the dock and smiled as he brought out his comm. unit, the smile getting bigger with every passing second.
No small, strange child hung from his arm as he lifted it, swinging and singing some made up song. No tiny, freakishly intelligent dog sat at his ankle looking up at him as though he were the dumbest being on the face of the planet. And best of all, no bickering could be heard from his two annoying crewmates, that in general were more trouble than they were worth.
Yep, splitting up had been one hell of a great idea. Jet's smile widened as he looked over the data sheet on the bounty he was going after. Name: Satan Sal. Known offenses: burglary and aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. Defining Characteristics: red body suit, small devil horns, and a pitch fork. Yet again, unable to suppress the reaction, Jet's eyes widened and then rolled.
"Damn, Ed, where do you find these guys." He mumbled the words as he watched the information scroll further until finally landing on the blinking green numbers of the price on his head. 75 Million Woolongs. "Well, the price is right." He smirked as he placed the unit back in his pocket.
Before moving along Jet did a quick pat down over his loose fitting jacket; he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something. Cigarettes upper left. ID upper right. Gun middle left. Cigarettes middle right. Wallet lower right. He smiled as he began to walk off the dock, finishing his metal check list as he went. Handcuffs middle of his back. Gun at the left ankle. And joyfully no oatmeal in his right shoe. Don't ask. Jet exited the East dock with as much of a skip to his step as his demeanor would allow.
** 2hrs later
"Spike, handle it." Jet practically screamed into the comm. unit, pushing the blinking red light hard and sending Spike far away. He ran his cool metal hand over his face, breathing out a disgruntled sigh. Startled a bit by the silence that now surrounded him, Jet looked up and around the small family restaurant. All the patrons had stopped everything, some even in mid-bite, to look up and stare at him. His eyes locked on a small boy with unruly brown hair and noodles hanging from his mouth. Jet gave him a slow, and what he considered a friendly smile, to which the boys eyes widened and he inhaled the noodles so fast he nearly choked. Jet grimaced a bit as he placed his gaze back on the newspaper on the table before him. Satan Sal Strikes Again. Oh great. Wonder if this means the bounty is going to be raised? Jet began to skim the article but found himself lingering on the photo right under the headline. The picture was of a square shaped man, larger in more areas than he was small, dressed in a red body suit that really didn't help to flatter his figure. Little red devil horns sat on his head, surrounded by a dark kinky mop of hair. The best part, and the part that Jet just couldn't seem to believe, was the big black pitch fork he held up to the camera as he spray painted his trademark devil head on the camera.
Where exactly did a guy get a pitchfork anyway? And for that matter how did a guy carrying a pitchfork stay so damn hidden in a city like this? Jet shrugged a bit and skimmed the article for the name of the last place he robbed. Athena Mutual, not far from this place. Jet folded the paper and put it under his arm as he stood up. He dropped a few Woolongs on the table to pay for his coffee and smiled at the still wide eyed boy as he passed.
Beep.
Jet winced as he stepped out of the restaurant, and pulled out his comm. unit. After a few seconds of the annoying little beep he finally pressed the blinking red button.
"Jet!" Faye's wide eyed face was practically smashed into the screen.
"What?" He snapped his eyes going to the two old women that passed him. He smiled.
"I don't deserve this." Faye began. "I'm never going to catch anything with----" He disconnected Faye's rant and placed the comm. unit back in his pocket, and began to stroll down the block towards Athena Mutual.
Even when they split up, they managed to complain to him about one thing or another. Well he wasn't going to handle it today, today was his day. He's been catching criminals longer than either of those two and for some damn reason every time they went after a bounty he always ended up staying on the ship. Well, not today, and if all went as planned, never again. He pushed through the glass doors of Athena Mutual and stepped in a large puddle of red paint.
"Watch it, sir." Jet looked down and found a young man in a janitor uniform looking up at him. "We're trying to clean up so we can open," the man said.
"Oh yeah?" Jet said staring at his now paint covered shoe.
"Yeah considering the place was robbed," the young man said scratching under his nose. "Didn't you see it in the paper? Big deal. That Satan Sal he's a real dog, and no one can seem to find him."
"I've heard." Jet mumbled. "Did you see the guy?"
"Nope," the guy said shaking his head. "I was off. Too bad really, I hear it was quite the show. Pauly over there," the man pointed to another man in a painters uniform washing off a wall with a large painted devil head on it. "He was here. He said that Satan Sal was real pissed off, yelling and screaming about one thing or another."
"No kidding?" Jet said as he began walking towards the other man.
"You shouldn't be in here." The man named Pauly said as Jet approached.
"That looks messy." Jet said pointing to the red devil head. Pauly merely raised an eyebrow at Jet and crossed his arms over his chest. "I hear you got a first hand look at Satan Sal?"
"Yeah, crazy bastard." Pauly said uncrossing his arms. "You a bounty hunter?"
Jet nodded. "You hear anything that might be of any use to me?"
"Depends," Pauly said smirking.
"Right." Jet nodded and smirked, while debating how to get the information. If Faye were here she would just charm it out of him, and probably get herself dinner in the meantime. If Spike were here he would just walk away, not really caring what the man had to say. Jet scratched his beard. What the hell would Jet do?
"Look, I've got to get back to work, so---" Pauly began to turn.
"Yeah, well, thanks anyway." Jet began to turn, thinking it probably wasn't worth it anyway.
"You really here to catch him?" Pauly asked. Jet turned and nodded once. "Well, I may have heard something to help you." Jet didn't move, merely crossed his arms over his chest and waited. "Well it wasn't really heard so much as seen. I didn't tell the cops or show them 'cause I figured I'd maybe go after him. You know get some money for myself. But you seem like a better man for the job than me." Pauly moved his hands and began rummaging in his pockets, his eyes staring at Jet's metallic limb. "Here," Pauly shoved a crumpled receipt at Jet and did a quick look over to make sure no one was watching. "That fell out of his suit while he was here. Good luck." And with that Pauly turned back to the wall that he was cleaning.
Jet stared at the crumpled paper in his hand for a minute, then looked back up at the cleaning Paully. Looks like Jet's thing is to just be patient. Jet rolled his eyes. Patience. Huh, who would have guessed he needed that living where he did? He suppressed the snicker and smoothed the small paper as he walked out of Athena Mutual.
Jingo's Dry Cleaning Service. Jet halted his steps. It was a receipt for the dry cleaning of one red body suit, and the order was made out for Sal Toggers. Jet smirked at the receipt and walked over to the nearest phone booth to look up where Jingo's Dry Cleaning was. Looks, like Satan Sal had a real name, and impressively was worried about his suit looking good. Lucky breaks are absolutely fantastic. This case was pretty much in the bag. Jet ripped out the page containing the address for Jingo's which was a quick railway ride away, and also flipped to the page for T. He found about six Toggers, S. and decided to just rip the whole damn page and figure it out later.
**3 hours later
Jet banged his head off the counter as he leaned over, repeating the ritual every time the man he had discovered to be Jingo said the words "No Satan."
"Look," Jet mumbled, his face smashed into the cold counter. He picked up his head and looked the short balding man in the eyes. "I'm not calling you a Satan worshipper. I don't give a damn what you worship."
"No Satan," The man said shaking his head. "We run a good store here, you can't come in here and harass us like this. I'm calling the police."
"No." Jet rolled his eyes as he straightened up. He'd been trying to get this man to understand for the past hour, after an hour ride due to the train de-railing and then waiting another hour for them to open back up after lunch. Jet was hungry and he was in no mood to deal with this. Patience was not working this time. Jet reached over the counter and pulled the small man up. "I just want to know where Satan Sal is."
"No-" the man began shaking his head.
"You say that one more time and I'm going to shove you in that hole over there." Jet said inclining his head to a very small laundry shoot beside Jingo. Jingo's mouth closed instantly. "I know he was here, and I know you know where I can find him." Jet brought the man closer. "Now you just check the damn computer and find out where Sal Toggers lives." Jet lowered the man to his feet and watched as the older man's eyes widened and then he smiled.
"Toggers. I know that one, very funny." Jingo nodded as he typed into the computer. "Why didn't you say you wanted the Toggers?"
Jet just stood there his mouth hanging open as he watched the thin old man type and smile. "I don't know." Jet said very slowly.
"Toggers lives at 459 West Gregory." Jingo said, as he smiled at Jet. Jet stepped back from the counter and quickly exited the Jingo's Dry Cleaners. He wiped his hand over his face and began walking back towards the rail station. West Gregory was back over by Athena Mutual.
"Watch out!" A man yelled and Jet spun around to watch a large ice cream cart skidding down the street. Jet jumped back out of the way of the out of control cart and caught a glimpse of a red devil head on the side of it.
"No way." Jet said to himself as his eyes went back up to the top of the street where the cart had apparently come from. "Well, I'll be damned." Jet said as he began to run towards the large man in the red body suit brandishing a pitchfork. He smiled as he ran, completely oblivious to the chaos surrounding him and the random ice cream cones that now scattered the street.
Jet reached the top of the street and came face to face with Satan Sal, both men just stopped.
"Shit." Sal screeched and then smacked Jet in the face with the blunt end of the pitchfork as he turned to run. Jet tottered a bit and fell against the wall cursing at the blood that he pulled away from his lips. The sun was beginning to set now and Jet was off and running after the big red blob that was disappearing into the sunset.
"Come back here! Stop!" Jet yelled, rolling his eyes at himself. How many times did yelling stop actually work?
Satan Sal disappeared into a hotel and Jet entered not too long after him, just in time to finish watching the sun set. Jet stopped and caught his breath, his eyes darting about the hotel lobby looking for any sign of the man in red. It's just damn amazing how well a man with a fucking pitchfork can blend in. It was the scream that caught Jet's attention and had him spinning towards the stairwell. He ran and busted through the door his gun pulled out.
"AHHH!" the woman on the stairs screamed as she came face to face with Jet's gun. Her fingers trembled as she brought them up to her face. Jet cocked his head to the side noting the large red smear of paint on her maid's uniform.
"Where did he go?" Jet barked out as he ran up the few steps separating them. The woman pointed a shaking hand up the stairs and Jet zoomed past her. She then sat down on the stairs and cried as she rubbed at her shirt. Jet stopped as he rounded the bend to the next stairwell and saw the woman on the stairs.
"You hurt?" He practically yelled down at the woman. He watched as she shook her sobbing head and he nodded and started up the next flight of stairs.
Red paint dripped off the railing and Jet practically grinned as he followed his prey's trial. As he rounded the next sharp corner to head up the next flight of stairs he was hit in the chest with the blunt end of the pitchfork again and sent back down that flight of stairs. Jet landed hard on his ass, he yelled a few explicative phrases that even he's ashamed of and got back to his feet. Spike probably would have anticipated that. Hell, Faye probably would have shot the guy already. Jet let out a primal yell as he ran up the flight of stairs and onto the landing of the roof. He opened the steel door and found himself face to face with a can of spray paint.
"Shit." Jet yelled, just as Satan Sal pushed down the button and sent a crimson spray all over the front of Jet. He could taste it in his mouth and feel it seep through his shirt and under to his skin. That's it! He raised his gun and smashed the butt of it into Sal's head, sending the man careening to the hard ground. Jet wiped a hand down his face and pulled away some of the red spray paint.
"You hit me!" Satan Sal said as he tried to get to his feet, using the pitchfork for support.
"You hit me first!" Jet yelled back putting his hand to his chin while pointing his gun at the downed man in red. "And you knocked me down a flight of stairs, and spray painted me."
"But you hit me." Satan Sal repeated small tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. Jet stood utterly perplexed as the large man began to sob, his poofy, tangled mess of hair bobbing with his head. "You hit a woman!"
"Woman?!" Jet voice almost cracked as he screamed the word at the quivering mass of red on the floor.
"Yes, woman!" Sal yelled back, though his face was covered by his hands now, the pitchfork lay forgotten on the ground. Jet took a step forward.
"You're a woman?" Jet inquired leaning down low as he practically whispered it.
"Yes you idiot, can't you tell." Sal's face shot to Jet's and Jet just stared. He looked at the lumpy mass of black tangles a top the head of his bounty and figured it could be a bad perm job. Then down to the large unibrow, the slits for eyes, the large broken nose and the big lips and cocked his head to the side.
"Uh, well," he began as he stood up. "Sorry, I guess." Jet grimaced and brought his gun up. "That doesn't change the fact that I'm taking you in. And that you deserved to be hit."
"I know, I just wanted to be noticed." Sal said as he, or she, or whatever the hell, it stood up. "I hate never being noticed."
"Yeah," Jet hunched down and helped the woman in the red devil suit to her feet. "I hear ya sister." Jet then placed the handcuffs on Sal's wrists, placed his gun in his holster, and bent down to pick up the pitchfork. "Where did you get this anyway?"
"Internet." Sal said as Jet nodded and led her down the stairs.
"Should have guessed." Jet said as the exited the roof.
**2 and a half hours later
Why exactly did Ed have control the Bebop? Why did she have to move it all around so that he could never find his own damn ship? Jet cracked his neck from his seat in the Hammerhead, utterly glad to leave the world of Satan Sal far, far away. It was late now, having spent an hour at ISSP trying to convince them that the person he brought in was in fact Satan Sal. Apparently they didn't believe that the still quivering and sobbing lump of red sitting on the bench was the notorious criminal that they had so much trouble getting. Well, screw them. Jet walked out of the headquarters carrying his new lucky walking stick, which just happened to be a nice black pitchfork.
Beep.
The proximity alert went off and Jet smiled at the sight of the Bebop. He felt some of the dried blood on his chin crack a bit as he smiled, and felt the large gash open up again. His ass was sore from the fall down the stairs, his mouth was sore from the hit he took, and he was covered in red spray paint. He hoped to all that was good and right with the world that Spike and Faye weren't back yet.
He docked his ship and nearly fell out of it, jarring his already sore back. He grabbed the pitchfork and used it as a sort of cane, feeling very old all of a sudden. He clamped a tight hand on to the wall for support, leaning the pitchfork on the wall beside him. He felt the trickle of blood go down from his mouth and entwine itself in his sweat drenched beard. He ran his cool metal hand down his hot face and then put it to his shirt, he grimaced and pulled away the now crimson covered hand. If those two were back, and they so much as raised an eyebrow at him, he was going to impale them on his pitch fork.
"Bark."
More to come soon, we've still got two days to go. Enjoy!
