Honor Among Thieves

By Jones



Act 03: The Rascal King



"I hate them," Beck complained, hardly paying any attention to the road. "Both of them. The black guy and the white guy." He thought back on Angel's "proposal". "Steal that Seebach guy's memories, sure," he sighed. "Like I can get the memories outta a dead man's head. Like I can even find that dead man's head! Hell!" He pounded a fist against the dashboard. "Memories! What the hell are they?!" Lost in his thoughts, Beck failed to notice the car in front of him had come to a stop, and therefore failed to stop his own car in time.

He slammed on the brakes, albeit much too late, and the car suffered a declaration of sickness. That is, his car had stopped after it had plowed into the black sedan before him. "Shit," he muttered, rummaging in the glove box for his insurance information [which was, of course, quite fake] and the gun he'd stashed in there for occasions such as these. "Shit shit shit!"

The driver's side door on the black sedan opened and out stepped a man who wore an expression of irritation. A man dressed in... black. Boy, those eyebrows sure look familiar...

"Smith?!" Beck cried. "Why me? Why now?!" He forced the car into reverse and floored the accelerator, eventually hitting yet another car before shifting back into drive and taking off down a side street. Roger Smith merely stood there a moment next to his car and watched as Beck took off, then got back inside and drove off toward his own destination.

---

Everything contained in that book is a lie: the world destroyed by a cataclysm, giant robots running amok over the Earth, the power of the Creator wielded by the hand of man. Gordon Rosewater's account of the Event 40 years is nothing short of fiction.

Man is a creature that fears the darkness, so he makes fire to scrape away at its edges. He fears the darkness, so he averts his eyes. He fears the darkness, so he tries to displace it. He fears the darkness, so he fears the truth.

But, then, perhaps you are all too frightened to learn the truth, to face the dark rather than hide from it.

Regardless, they will come, and they will battle. The Behemoth will battle Ziz, but the sky will not triumph over the land. Death's blade will follow. Finally, the Behemoth and the Leviathan will battle and destroy the world, and the true Dominus will show himself and the world will be reborn!

However, this does not change the fact that you, the people of Paradigm City, live in darkness and fear, unwilling to face the reality that will present itself. Your god is false, as you will be shown at the end of the world! This is not prophecy nor speculation, this is history.

Signed, Schwarzwald

---

"H-honest, Mr. Gold, I paid!" The man quivered, fully expecting Beck or one of his goons to simply shoot him in the face and be done with it. Of course, this was a huge gamble, trying to scam Beck out of this month's payment, but he simply couldn't afford to keep paying the mob - he had a family at home to support!

Beck stared at the man, reading his face. He didn't look like a particularly dishonest sort, just stupid. Another old fool [at least, older than Beck] who was too dumb to realize he was scamming the wrong guy. "So you already paid, did you, Mr. Anderson?" The man nodded nervously. "Well, then!" Beck grinned and held out his hand, "it's a pleasure doing business with you." The man's expression lifted and he reached to shake Beck's hand.

Beck gripped the man's hand tightly, then slammed it down on the counter between them. "You see, Mr. Anderson, I can tell you're lying. I can see it in your eyes." He held his other hand out, in which Dove placed a hammer. "So, I'm going to have to teach you a lesson. Hold him, boys!"

Dove grabbed the man's arms and pinned them to his sides while T-bone held his head and right hand on the countertop. "You right-handed?" Beck asked.

"Y-yes," Mr. Anderson whimpered. Beck grinned.

"Y'better learn how to do everything with your left, then," He said, still grinning. "Hold on to him tight, boys." And with that, he slammed the hammer down on the man's hand with a loud 'crack'. Mr. Anderson cried out in pain, which only encouraged Beck to continue to crush the man's hand. "Can you hear that, Mr. Anderson?" He asked, swinging the hammer again. "That is the sound of inevitability. That is the sound of your hand being destroyed."

Beck gave the hammer one last swing before he was satisfied with the bloody mess that had once been Mr. Anderson's right hand. "You see, Mr. Anderson, playing with my money is like playing with my emotions," he said, tossing the hammer aside. "That is, I don't like it and I certainly don't tolerate it. Now, get up." T-bone and Dove pulled Mr. Anderson to his feet.

"I-I understand," Mr. Anderson whimpered, "I'll have your m-money for you..."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Beck said comfortingly, wrapping an arm around the poor man's shoulder. "I think this is payment enough." He gave his subordinates a nod and led Mr. Anderson outside. "A noodle restaurant is such a small-time operation that it's hardly worth my time. There's hardly any money to be made."

Behind them, T-bone and Dove quickly poured gasoline on nearly every flammable material in the building [and on a great deal other things]. The left a trail of fuel leading out of the restaurant, right up to Beck's feet, before abandoning their cans and disappearing somewhere behind Beck and Mr. Anderson. "All set, Boss," Dove called.

Beck fished a cigar from his breast pocket and a book of matches. "This," he said, striking a match, "will be payment enough." With his cigar well lit, he dropped the still-burning match into the trail of gas at his feet. The ember at the end of the small stick immediately flared up upon contact with the fuel and a path of flames shot toward the building. Within a matter of seconds, the fire was burning intensely, ruining what little Mr. Anderson had been able to accomplish in his lifetime.

"No!" Mr. Anderson cried. "Th-that's all I have! How could you do this to me?!"

Beck glanced at his watch. "I give the place fifteen minutes, and we're outside the domes. The fire department'll be late. C'mon boys, let's go. I needta find a good body shop."

---

The sound of clapping filled the small bar. "Very good, Dorothy," R. Instro said. "You've made excellent progress."

R. Dorothy stood and bowed slightly. "Thank you," she said, flatly, of course. "Your lessons have been very helpful."

"It's a pleasure," he replied. "Well, then. The same time next week?"

"Of course," a third voice, Roger's, interjected. "She's much less irritating an alarm clock, nowadays," he chuckled.

Dorothy frowned. At least, as much as a perpetually dour-faced android could. "You're a louse, Roger Smith." Roger laughed.

"Anyway," Roger said, "we should get going. I'd gotten into an accident this afternoon, so I'd like to get back early enough for Norman to take a look at the Griffin." He turned for the door. "Thanks again, Instro." Instro nodded.

"Did you back into something?" Dorothy asked, inspecting the Griffin's rear bumper. "I suppose it's to be expected. You do drive rather recklessly."

"Hey, now," he protested, "I'm a damn good driver and you know it! I was rear ended, actually, when I'd stopped at a red light." He frowned, which actually qualified as a frown, as his face actually changed expressions. "And to make matters worse, the other driver took off! At any rate, we really should get home."

---

Jigen rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What the hell is this supposed to mean?" he asked, waving the letter in his hand. "'Dominus'? 'Death's Blade'? What is this nonsense?"

"Does it matter?" Lupin asked. "We got the damn thing, so let's just get the hell outta here."

"Yeah, this place is real cozy," Fujiko murmured, looking about the chamber nervously. "If you're a spider. Let's go." She shuddered.

Lupin took one last look at the typewriter sitting in the middle of the floor, then at the tire tracks leading down the tunnel before them. A banner in the back of the chamber read "Expo 04", whatever that means. Yes, the place was damn spooky. "Alrighty, then. We're outta here."

The three of them managed to backtrack back to the ladder they'd taken to get down to the chamber, well below the subway, without incident. Well, if the rat that'd caused Fujiko to shriek and jump into Lupin's arms didn't count as an incident. She'd slapped him for his trouble, too. Regardless, they'd made it back to the ladder, then up and back onto the street above without an incident of any significance.

Goemon stood at the manhole dressed in a hardhat and overalls bearing the logo of Paradigm's public maintenance department. "Did you get it?"

Lupin handed his samurai friend Schwarzwald's letter. "See for yourself."

"The end of the world? How pessimistic."

"I know, right?" Lupin chuckled. "But I don't see how Rosewater can't have seen this already. That broad must have more in mind than this stupid letter." He shrugged. "But, ah, forget it. I'm hungry, and I hear that joint up the road is pretty good."

"I know a place where the food's good," said a voice from behind Lupin. "Three squares a day, all free. Here, lemme take you there," Zenigata grinned, holding up a pair of handcuffs.

Major Dastun stood a few steps behind the Inspector, clearly irritated. "You should use those handcuffs, inspector," he sighed. "That is, unless you think it's appropriate to sit here and chatter with the local cons."

"Long time no see, Pops," Lupin said. "And you've got a new friend. Ain't the special?" Dastun growled, but Lupin paid him no mind. "Anyway, how's the spleen?"

"Still spleenin'", Zenigata replied. "But your spleen'll be doing all of it's spleening behind bars!"

Lupin blinked. "Y'must be losin' it, Pops. It'd break my spleen's heart to go to jail, so... toodles!" He sprinted off down the road, laughing.

"Crap! Dammit, Lupin! Get back here!" Zenigata cried, giving chase. "Lupin!"

Major Dastun was not amused. "Inspector!" he called, "what about the other three criminals sitting right here?!" Said criminals, however, had made a hasty retreat in the same manner as Lupin, if with a bit more stealth. "Where'd they go?!"

"Get back here, Lupin!" Zenigata shouted again, somehow managing to remove a shoe and throw it at Lupin before stumbling to a stop. "Dammitall," he wheezed, "I need to go to the gym."

Lupin, on the other hand, must have been a distance runner. He was well out of sight before Dastun had caught up to Zenigata, who was struggling to catch his breath.

---

Author's Notes:

This wound up being a great deal shorter than I'd initially planned. I can't tell if that's a good thing or not.

It turns out that Beck's henchman was named Dove, which simplifies things for me. ["The Greatest Villain", the one episode where he's actually named, has got to be my favorite, by the way.] My request for the name of Beck's henchwoman still stands, however.

I don't like the flow of the opening scene, but I'm unwilling to rewrite it at the moment.

It'd damn hard to write Schwarzwald sounding prophetic. Ah well. Anyway, before anyone gets insulted, remember that Alex clearly thought himself as the god of Paradigm City. It's all metaphor, pally.

The end of Beck's extortion [well, it's a little late for proper extortion] scene was rather forced. I'm not too terribly pleased with that, but I can live with it. For now, at least. [Unfortunately, the two scenes that followed suffer from the same problem. Ugh.]

References:

The chapter title comes from a song of the same name by the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, off of the album "Let's Face It". Wicked good tunes, pally.

Beck's comment about "the black guy and the white guy" came from episode 26, "The Show Must Go On".

The opening of Schwarzwald's transcript was spoken by Gordon in episode 13, "R-D". His statement that "Man is a creature that fears the darkness, so he makes fire to scrape away at its edges" was adapted from one of Rei's lines in Neon Genesis Evangelion. Finally, the closing of Schwarzwald's letter is from Chrono Cross. [Lynx was damn shibby.]

Mr. Anderson and Beck's inevitability comments are refs to The Matrix. Beck crushing Mr. Anderson's hand with the hammer, however, came from Casino. Oh, and "playing with my money is like playing with my emotions" comes from Friday.

I wish I could remember where I read [or heard?] the "still spleening" bit. Ah well. I didn't come up with it, at any rate.


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 The Mighty Mighty Bosstones - Pay Attention