Chapter Title: Recognition
Story Title: Revisited
Uploaded on: 11th November 2004
Betaed: No

Jet dozed fitfully on the hard couch, vivid memories assaulting his sleepy subconscious. Pictures of a buxom woman, Jet remembered as his mother, playing old school jazz on the radio as she mopped the eternally dirty floors. He remembered images of three boys, each muddy and smelly from fishing at the docks. Snippets of conversations floated in the mire of images, laughter and pain also sifted through. Memories of feelings, tangled with the innocence of youth, weaved into the tapestry, which was forming. Then he heard screaming. High pitched screaming. No, make it stop, he thought as he rolled over again. He banged his hands subconsciously around his ears. Please, he demanded to himself, make it stop. Jet bolted upright as his muddled brain clicked back into place. The film of cold sweat slowly dried on his brow; the reassuring tick of the cuckoo clock and the firmness of the couch under himself made his brain slow again. "Come home with me" Ed had said at the hotel "You can have some dinner there too!" Her childlike innocence had never diluted from the years of being in the big world. But he was so relieved that she is alive! His cherry tomato...

The apartment that she led him to was tiny; a shoebox made of pre-fabricated concrete and steel. However, the apartment was part of a massive building, one that had stood the test of time and now looked weathered against the ever-changing landscape. People milled in and out, some looked as though dependent on a basic government allowance; others were more just low-income earners, and this is all they could afford. Leading him up about three flights of steps, Ed rambled on about her job and about Ein's puppies. Eventually making it to her front door, Ed slid the key into the lock and forced the door open. Inside was reasonably tidy (especially for Ed's standards), having that worn, lived in look. It was a simple arrangement, a central hallway which had each room built off of it like a honeycomb.

He lied back down and tried to doze off but a scream broke the almost deadly silence of the high-rise block. Still groggy, Jet stood, allowing his balance to centre. The scream occurred again, this time it was a bit more familiar. Jet pressed his ear to the wall, hearing a gruff voice yell, and small yelps as objects crashed to the floor. Shit, he thought, this is a grand domestic. Until he realised where the layout meant it would be. Not her, he though, not his cherry tomato. He straightened up quickly, banging his large frame on a bookcase. Cursing quietly he snuck out of the sanctuary provided by the back room and slid into the corridor. His senses were finely tuned, each breath calculated and his steps tuned to make no noise. He eventually made it to the kitchen, the source of the disturbance. Faintly, he could hear their neighbours complaining at the disturbance, themselves creating more noise by belting walls and the like. C'mon, Jet thought, it wasn't right that no-one came to check it out, but that's the way that this world had become, not only corrupt legally, but the social morals that also eroded. As he inched the door open using his shoulder, a plate crashed ominously near the jam, making the door go from a quiet whoosh, to a squeal as the faux porcelain scratched at the prefab concrete floor. It went dead silent, until a gruff voice barked "Who the fuck is it?"

Jet tensed as he kicked the door. It swung wildly, slamming at the hinges until the plate acted as a door stop. Jet drank in the surrounds, a familiar man terrorising his cherry tomato. Jet squinted "Who the hell are you?"

"Answer my question. Who are you?" he smirked as he grabbed Ed's hair and yanked "Ed, sweet-thing, who the fuck is that person and why is he here?"

"Jet" Ed's voice was lowered to a whimper "Get out of here. He will hurt you"

Jet merely snarled out "Let her go, fuck-face, or I will rearrange your face to resemble your persona a bit better."

As the words escaped his lips, the stranger flung her unceremoniously towards the wall, and barked back a challenge, one that Jet couldn't refuse

"Bring it on woman. You couldn't hurt a fly"

Jet lunged as Ed muttered the stranger's name. Jets focussed mind then clicked all the pieces together. James. It was the same name as bounty whats-his-name James. The pieces fell together as he landed a soft right into Jet's stomach. Jet then noticed the paraphernalia. The eye shooter, the small purple vials not unlike what Spike had once held. Each piece then soaked Jet into a frenzy, not unlike a wild animal after it had been wounded. He struck back with a left into James, but he was fast due to the narcotic. Jets punch merely glanced at his right arm, spinning him around. Jet noticed the fly kick a little too late; its effect on Jets unguarded back was devastating. He fell to his knees, anger still surging through his veins. Then James smirked and descended upon Jet.

Ed screamed more. With each scream it seemed to make James even more determined to hurt Jet. Ed's brain raced to see what she could do. Then she remembered. Both their lives could depend on Jet's sheer attention to the minute details – and his fastidiousness. She slinked out of the room as James sunk a left kick into Jets unguarded stomach.

She raced through the flat, careening around the doorframe as she went. Her youthful exuberance was exchanged for a swift necessity to help the ones who both loved and cared for her. She retraced her time with James in her head; it was beautiful at the start. She thought he really had cared for her. Then he had the 'eye. He changed from the caring and sensitive James to a wild monster. He had stopped her from going to the police or from running. 'I will kill you' he had said. It rang hollowly though her head as she rummaged through Jet's meagre belongings. This time, she thought, I will be the victor - you will not succeed. And then there it was. The 9mm that Jet always had snugly in the pancake holster. She gingerly removed it with a small 'snick'. The butt of it felt heavy, she thought, so that must mean it is loaded. She removed the safety catch and disengaged the clip. Full. She heard a groan, low and familiar. Jet!

There she stood, her feet slightly apart, her right hand holding the pistol, her left steadying it. She pointed it at James, hoping to elicit a response, as if the hunk of deadly metal would be felt. But he couldn't be raised from his hunger - the bloodlust was too strong. Jet groaned again, a trickle of blood oozing from his lips to collect with the puddle on the floor. His body was battered and bruised; no doubt there was a broken limb. She then screamed "James! James stop it!" then added with a wimper "please?"

James snarled, as he turned "Didn't I tell you bit" He was cut off mid sentence as he spied the familiar shape of a gun. Then the decline snuck in. James knew that on a full load of 'eye he could have dodged a bullet, even at this close range. But the dizzying effect of withdrawal took hold. His eyes became unfocussed. He knew that he would need the last of the vial that sat on the table. He became all sweetness. "Francois? Honey, what's the matter?" he spoke levelly as he inched backwards, towards the kitchen bench.

Ed squeezed the trigger as he turned to grab the shooter. The bullet pierced his lung. Bright red blood oozed from the wound almost instantaneously. The glasser bullet had done its job – haemorrhaging blood vessels and slicing cleanly through tissue to make it into a mass of pulpy slop. His breathing became laboured as the shock took control of his body. Then she walked to where he lay, the floor becoming slippery from the blood lost by both men. She reached down to his carotid artery. Feeling only stillness from it, she smiled. She was free... but what about her Jet? She gasped as her instincts kicked in.

DANGER! Well, that was taken care of.

RESPONSE! "Jet, can you hear me? Open your eyes! Squeeze my hand Jet"

TBC

And that is it for this chapter. I know, its rather not good, and the layout will be crappy, but take heart that I actually did some writing. And it's rather longer than what I normally do. So yeah, I'm sorry for not doing this chapter sooner, I have been busy with work and other commitments. But that's no excuse, no? So I am sorry for this sub par work that I want you to swallow. But it is effective. But now its onwards and upwards to my next chapter.

Maelgwyn