Honor Among Thieves
By Jones
"My sources tell me that this thing, these memories," Lupin pointed at the map, "are right here. Some big space connected to the sewers. Apparently, this guy figured something out and hid out down here, writing it all down."
Jigen took a long look at the map and assorted documents spread out across the table and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "So, just who is this source of yours?"
"Huh?" Lupin blinked.
"Who the hell told you about these friggin' memories, Lupin?"
"Oh! Some broad with a weird accent," Lupin shrugged. "Said she didn't want 'the Oedipus' to get the memories. Kinda spooky, really." He took a sip of his wine and shuddered, then added, "she looked kinda man-ish, y'know?"
"No, I do not know," Goemon deadpanned, "and I'd prefer to keep it that way."
"I know what you mean, buddy," Lupin agreed with a laugh. "She really gave me the creeps." He picked up a photo of the chamber that the woman had given him. There was something about that space that seemed off, though he couldn't quite place it. Nevermind that there was a gaping hole in the ceiling, or the massive tire tracks leading down one of the connecting tunnels. He set the photo back on the table. "Anyway, she said the writer's name was Seebach, and that he'd used the tunnels until just recently. That's all I know."
"She's clearly after these memories, Lupin," Goemon pointed out. "How can you trust her?"
Jigen laughed. "I'd say it's 'cuz she's a beautiful woman, but Lupin here said she was a hound." His demeanor quickly turned serious. "How can you trust her?"
"Simple," Lupin chuckled, "I can't." He took another look at the assorted photos, none of which really showed a damn thing. "I don't like the fact that she's so damn interested in us grabbing these memories and I don't like this 'Oedipus' thing she's talking about." He stood up and turned for the door, motioning for Goemon and Jigen to follow. "Ah well. Just forget it for now, guys. Let's find Fujiko and go check this place out."
---
The man ran down the corridor as fast as he could, the doors on either side fading into a blur as he went on. On the left came an intersecting corridor, doubtless identical to the one he now traveled. Beyond that, at the far end of the corridor, was a single door. So long as it wasn't locked, it would be perfect.
Behind the man were three orderlies, all quite large men, armed with batons and syringes and a straight jacket. Their expressions clearly meant business. The man frantically pulled on the doorknob, trying to force the door open. He gave one mighty pull and lost his grip and fell on his rear. This wouldn't do!
He scrambled to his feet and tried again, this time both twisting the knob and pushing on the door, which just happened to be the secret to opening it. He dashed inside and slammed the door shut, then fumbled with the lock. After he was certain the door was secure, he took a look about his new surroundings.
The room was sealed. There was only one door and no windows, and certainly not any vents or ducts within his reach he could sneak into. He was effectively trapped. Well, that wouldn't do! So the man reached for the nearest object of any significant mass, a fire extinguisher, and turned out the lights. He waited nervously beside the door for the orderlies to come after him. Hopefully, he'd be able to catch them all by surprise and get past them.
Within seconds, the orderlies had reached the locked door and began pounding on it and shouting at the man inside. "Give up," they say, "give up and come with us peacefully! We don't want to hurt you!" Of course, these were lies, but he knew he couldn't stay there forever. He carefully unlocked the door and readied his weapon.
Bonk! Boing! Crash!
"Bwa ha ha ha!" Beck roared, clapping his feet in a most comical manner. "That's the best! I love it when they do that!" On the screen before him, the shrimpy man swung his weapon with all of his might and lost his balance and fell, again, on his rear. Then the orderlies all jumped on him and started punching, and soon a cloud of dust rose up around the brawl. All the while, more wacky sound effects poured from the television's speakers.
"Hey, boss," T-bone called, "why're you just watchin' cartoons while we do all the work on this heap?" He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief for emphasis and motioned to Beck's other two henchmen busily working on the towering hulk in the back of the warehouse.
Beck turned away from his cartoons and shot the goon a glare that made T-bone's blood run cold [which was amusing, considering that Beck had been gnawing on a piece of fried chicken at the time - breakfast of champions]. He swallowed his food before addressing his subordinate. "You'd like me to help out, would ya'?" The shorter man nodded nervously. Beck stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter again. "Tough shit, T-bone," he snickered. "I have you to do all the scut work around here!"
"Shit, boss," T-bone sighed, "you oughta appreciate us more." Beck laughed again.
"Appreciate this chicken," he said, tossing a half-eaten drumstick at T-bone.
T-bone took a long look at the drumstick, then took a bite. "Not fuckin' bad," he said with his mouth full.
"Glad you enjoyed it," Beck said with a sigh, "now get back to work!" With a "yes, boss!", T-bone ran back to the other end of the warehouse. Beck returned his attention to his cartoons, but it didn't stay for long.
Clack! The sound echoed through the large space rather loudly. Clack! Click-clack! "Well, Mr. Gold, it would seem that you're hard at work here," a familiar voice called. The clacking sound, now identified as the steps of some rather hard-soled shoes came to a stop just behind Beck. "Now, what might we be up to here?"
Beck turned again to face this new visitor and found himself staring down that woman, Rosewater's secretary. What was her name again? Angel? "Whaddya want?" he asked around a mouthful of chicken. "Can't you see I'm relaxing here?"
"What fine manners you have," Angel mused. "Is that any way to talk to a lady?" She shrugged and leaned forward, returning Beck's stare. "Regardless, I'm here to discuss the terms of your release." Beck snorted and coughed, choking a moment on his food. Angel gave him a quick smack on the back and he gave one last cough before catching his breath.
"Whaddya mean, terms?! That's rich!" he laughed. "I love it! You've got some stones to come to me with conditions for a jailbreak!" He clapped his feet again, still laughing like a madman. Angel merely stared at him with distaste. "Listen, sister," he said, growing serious, "ain't nobody gonna give me terms for my release, legal or otherwise, unless it's the big man himself, and you're no Alex Rosewater."
Angel chuckled. "You're quite astute, Mr. Gold. I'm certainly in no position to dictate terms of any sort to you, yes. However," she pulled a sheet of paper from her briefcase, "Mr. Rosewater is the one dictating the terms. You see, Mr. Rosewater is a very busy man and he can't be here at the moment, so he sent me, with this," she pointed at the sheet with a pen, "a death warrant." Beck gulped. "Yes, you see, he has a little job for you to do. If you agree, you'll be free to go. If you refuse, however, I'll have to take this down to the Military Police. I'm sure Major Dastun would be happy to see that you received justice."
Beck glared at her for a moment, a glare much like the one he'd given T-bone earlier, if not a little more dignified now that he wasn't chewing on a mouthful of fried chicken. Angel smiled brightly and he felt his stomach drop. Fine. "What do I do?"
---
Major Dastun sighed heavily as he settled into his seat and took a good look at the police report one of his sergeants had handed him. It seemed that Beck had been spotted at some swanky restaurant down in Central Dome and that he raised quite a stir. "Shot in the testicles," the report said of the man Beck had confronted in the men's room. "The suspect is not only armed and dangerous," the officer that had taken the report had written under the "opinion" section, "he is, frankly, quite mad. The act was absolutely vicious and unprovoked. Has a hell of a case of penis envy." Dastun chuckled rather darkly at the thought. It would seem that prison certainly didn't help to reform Beck.
A knock at his door pulled him away from his thoughts. Before he could say "come in", a man in black entered the office and took a seat on the corner of the file cabinet. "Hello, Major," Roger said. "I hear our friend Beck made quite a stir last night."
"I guess you could say that," Dastun replied with something of a smile. He liked Roger, despite the man's irritating nature and habit of constantly getting in the way. He wasn't a cop anymore, so he really hadn't any business coming and going like he did, but Dastun didn't mind too much. Roger was an old friend, if nothing else.
Roger picked up the photo of the two of them and the rest of their old friends and smiled nostalgically. "It's technically not my business, I'll grant you," he said as he set the photo back down, "but I have something of a vested interest in his capture. I do hope he's at the top of your most wanted list."
"You've got a lot of balls to tell me that," Dastun growled. "Listen, Roger. You're not a cop anymore, so don't tell me how to do my job." His expression softened a bit. "But, well, yeah. He's about all I'm concerned about at the moment, so do me a favor and keep your big nose the hell outta my investigation." Roger laughed and waved it off like it was no big deal.
"Well, if that's all, Dastun," Roger stood and stretched, "then I'll be seeing you. I suppose I've kept that goofy looking P.I. out there waiting long enough. But lemme know if you hear anything about Beck, willya?" And with that, he left Dastun in [relative] peace.
"What P.I.?" Dastun wondered aloud when said "P.I.", Zenigata, burst into the office and so rudely broke the little peace Dastun had been left with. "Figures," he groaned, laying his head down on his desk and trying to wave Zenigata off.
The special investigator was apparently oblivious to the Major's efforts to shoo him away and plopped down in the chair opposite Dastun. "Major Dastun!" He poked Dastun, who in turn looked up in irritation. "Major!" he exclaimed again, "I just got a lead on where Lupin is! He's been spotted down in the Central Dome by the scene of that shooting last night!" He pulled a wrinkled map from his coat and pointed at the spot he'd circled. "See, Major? He was right there! Let's go, right now!" Dastun wondered if he'd get life for shooting Zenigata in the face.
"Just go, Inspector," he sighed, again trying to shoo him away. "Take a couple officers and take a look or something. Just go."
Zenigata jumped up and bolted for the door, then looked back. "You're coming, aren't you?" he asked. Dastun grunted in irritation and stood up, resigned to his fate. "Let's go then," Zenigata cried, darting down the corridor. "I'm gonna get you this time, Lupin!"
---
Author's Notes:
A request, rather than a note proper: if anyone can identify Beck's other henchman, the one that looks like a cartoonish Marilyn Manson, or the henchwoman [from the manga version], I'd greatly appreciate it. It simply won't do to have them be nameless for the duration of the fic.
While not related to the second chapter, this still bears mentioning: upon rereading the first chapter, I find myself somewhat displeased with the final product - It seems that I've overpunctuated it, for the most part, so it desperately needs a good editing. [On a similar note, I find that I'm not particularly fond of how the opening scene for this chapter turned out.] How sad!
The bizarre woman Lupin referred to was indeed Vera, which will become more important later on. Note that she's already begun trying to subvert Alex's plans.
Number of times Beck claps his feet: 2
References:
This chapter's title comes from a song of the same name from the Cowboy Bebop OST.
Beck's "appreciate this chicken" line came from Electric Orange [albeit, the chicken in that work was quite alive], a seemingly dead webcomic.
Angel's and Beck's discussion of the terms of Beck's "release" comes from season two, though that should be rather apparent to anyone who's seen the series in it's entirety. That Rosewater sure is a shifty bastard, innit he? [Nevermind Angel's own questionable methods.]
Lupin III and the Big O are copyrighted by their respective owners, who are the only ones to stand to profit from this, if anyone.
Written to Shades Apart - Eyewitness and Mobile Fighter G Gundam - Gundam Fight Round 4
