Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop. Nor do I own the song 'These Boots Are Made For Walkin'.'
Walk In Their Shoes – These Boots Are Made For Walkin'
"She's not waking up, Jet."
"Well if you hadn't insisted on taking your time to get to her, then perhaps we could've actually stopped the man who mugged her and took her shoes."
"Are you insinuating that it is MY fault that Faye got her shoes stolen? If you remember correctly, I was the one who fought him off." 'But my shoes were still stolen.'
Faye shook off the fact that Jet was indeed right concerning the situation only hours before. If the two lunkheads had been on time, Faye would have never ventured out and found the strange fortune teller, only to be mugged by some random loser. But it wasn't the fact that Jet was right, or Spike had defended her, it was the fact that bastard had taken her shoes! Every woman has something dear to them – an expensive dress they bought for themselves after a hard breakup, a pearl necklace they received from a deceased relative which gave them the right to gloat in front of the sibling who didn't get it, or a rare shade of lipstick that caused the meeting between them and the love of their life. In Faye's case, it was a pair of white boots that had saved her rear in more than one occasion. It had started with a simple gesture from a nurse that worked in the cryogenic hall of the hospital. Upon meeting Faye, the two became fast friends and the nurse repeatedly told Faye to take a look at some local store when she got out. Faye did so and spotted the ivory boots in the back of the store beside a leather skirt and skin tight jeans. However, Faye had no money and pondered the idea of her morality. Could she really steal the boots? They seemed to be calling to her though, and she couldn't resist the temptation any longer. She tucked the boots neatly underneath her arm and headed out the door, followed by an older woman carrying a large sack of items. The alarm instantly went off, yet the cashier asked to see the other woman's bag and not Faye's. It was then that Faye knew these boots were something else. She couldn't count the number of times that they saved her from getting shot, raped, or, go figure, mugged. And now; now they were gone. Her lucky boots would never save her sensitive toes from the mud. Nor would they be able to kick Spike's butt out of her room when needed.
"Jet....tell the lunkhead to stop his bitching." She knew it would strike a nerve but she didn't really care.
"Bitching?!" Spike's voice rang out in the hollow room.
"Now Faye, that's not fair." The bounty huntress finally sat up and stretched, noticing that the boys had given her some kind of pain killer.
"Jet, men are like roses. That by which we call him by any other name is still associated with a prick. Simple as that." She snapped her fingers after each word to emphasize her point. She would not just forgive and forget when it was the jerk next to her that had gotten her shoes stolen. Jet sighed and let his shoulders slouch as he made his way into the kitchen to make dinner. Tonight, much to Faye's objection, they would be having bell peppers and beef – excluding the beef. But the temptress, however, felt no hunger. Just a raw and carnal craving for a credit card.
She was stationed to the couch that night after she almost fell from the sudden movement of standing up on her own. Spike thought that Faye was more than capable of walking to her bedroom, but Jet's persistent fatherly nagging caused both to shut their mouths.
Faye tossed and turned at the sound of Jet's upset stomach, which, surprise surprise, was caused by his 'special diner'. Half of her felt bad for the ex cop but the other half mentally patted Faye on the back. She would not get suckered twice in the same day. Poetic justice it was. She sat up slowly, her bangs working free of her infamous hairband. In all honesty, she hated the thing. But it played a huge part in her accuracy for aim. How could she shoot with hair in her face? Two neatly painted feet poked out of the blanket from her bed and slowly tiptoed over to where Jet lay snoring on the opposite couch. The floor was unbearably cold and Faye soon found herself wishing for her precious boots. But ah, what was this? Laying neatly beside the balding man, was a pair of work boots that he sported so often. They were huge, Faye would admit this, but it was better than bare feet on a freezing metal floor. She carefully slipped into them, throwing the blanket around her shoulders and proceeding to the control room for a little self time.
Jet's clunky boots made a small flop sound everytime she took a step and she silently thanked what ever force that kept the others from hearing her tiny adventure to the control room. It wasn't like she was in desperate need of attention or help. She just needed a nicotine break. It wasn't her fault that she was addicted to the damn paper sticks.
"Jet, what are you doing up this late?" Spike's voice alerted Faye that she was no longer alone. But why did he call her Jet?
"Excuse me?" She watched Spike light up a cigarette and repeat his question.
"I said, what are you doing up this late? Jeez you geezer. Getting deaf in your old age as well?" Faye quirked an eyebrow and extended a hand out to slap the crud out of him, when she suddenly caught hold of just what Spike was talking about. In front of her was a mechanical arm; an arm that belonged to the man who ran this hunk of junk he liked to call the 'Bebop'. She held the arm up in front of her face, wondering just what the hell was going on.
"Spike....look at me. What....who do you see?" The bounty hunter gazed into her eyes intuitively and grinned.
"I see a guy who needs to get laid before age catches up with him." He leaned back on his heels as Faye let out a horrific scream and ran towards the bathroom. She slammed the door shut behind and stared at the mirror before her. Sure enough, the emerald eyes and violet hair that once graced her face were now replaced by a bald head and scruffy facial hair. The beard alone was enough to drive her over the edge. She rubbed at her new set of eyes, not believing was clear before her. She was...Jet. The man who ceased to learn how to cook properly. The man who had refused her presence aboard the Bebop but let her stay anyway. The fact that she was a man period was astounding.
"Breathe Faye. Just breathe. This is all some weird, creepy, disturbing dream that you are about to wake up from." She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force herself awake from the terrible nightmare. "Dammit! Wake up!!" She pulled her useful arm to her chest and pinched it with the metal one. It hurt like hell, but it didn't wake her up.
"Jet, what's going on in there. I thought that little dramatic exit of yours would wake up the entire ship. You're lucky Faye didn't wake up. You'd have your head bitten off by now. "Faye jerked her head to the muffled voice of Spike and threw open the door.
"Where am I..I mean...where is Faye?" Spike nodded towards the living area, a look of bewilderment pasted on his features. Faye ran at full speed towards the room she had left just minutes before to take a smoking break. But sure enough, there was her body, sleeping soundly to the rhythm of the ceiling fan. Faye's entire body became numb and she felt herself dropping to the floor and into the blackness the awaited on Jet. Wake up. If the chief finds out that your sleeping on shift, you won't get another shot at MsDaniel." Faye squinted her eyes open, only to find a strange man leaning over her. The dream wasn't over. People were still calling her Jet. Only this time, there was no Spike or any other familiar faces. When her vision finally reached full potential, she scanned her surroundings. In front of her was a maple desk, covered in numerous papers and writing utensils. Two filing cabinets and a large plant were the only other pieces of furniture besides the creaky chair that Faye had been snoozing on. The man in front of her was decorated with a dress shirt and pants, finishing off the look with a red tie and fedora. As Faye glanced down, she noticed that she was in the same garb, the only difference being that she or actually Jet, had a blue tie and two real arms. No metal could be sighted anywhere. Faye reluctantly pulled the man off his chair and followed the other man out the door.
"He was spotted outside the Covington Warehouse on Broadway. I think our best chance would be to go around from the back and surprise him." These were the words spoken as the two men pulled away from the police station in a sleek black automobile.
"We should really call for backup if we spot him." The words seemed to spill out of Faye's mouth. The two cops paused in front of a grungy looking building, guarded by a couple of shady hoodlums.
"We can handle this Jet. Besides, you have experience in this kind of work." The man gave a reassuring smile and patted his partner's shoulder. Faye couldn't shake the feeling of looming danger and felt that it was best to go with her comrade's gut feeling on this. But the man's smile was enough to force and the body she occupied out the door.
Entrance was easy , almost too easy. Immediately, Jet's hands were around the gun he carried in his holster. Faye watched the skinnier man disappear in the darkness, leaving Faye and Jet's body alone in a place that reeked with danger. And sure enough, Jet's instincts were answered when a blast of power from behind knocked Jet's body to the ground.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous Jet Black. You've been quite the troublemaker around here lately." The man, whom Faye could only guess was McDaniel, switched his attention to the men towering over Jet's form. "Kill him."
He was taken to a giant machine that pressed license plates for monoracers and placed underneath a huge metal orb. The other men left Jet handcuffed to the pressing plate and in the distance, Faye could make out the kind voice of Jet's partner laughing with the men who had handcuffed him. It was a set up. And Jet had fallen for it. Faye watched in Jet's mind helplessly as he broke on arm free of the handcuffs, leaving the other to the mercy of the pressing plate. She didn't know how he survived such pain. To be alive while a two ton pressing plate crushed every bone and pulverizing every muscle was unbelievable. And to Faye's horror, it wasn't the only pain taking place. The steam and sparks from the impact caused parts of her compatriot's flesh to melt from his face. And it was all because Jet had trusted the wrong man. Inside, Faye couldn't take it anymore. She wept for her fatherly figure.