THIRTY-SEVEN: pretty lady

Faye was lonely. She felt as though someone had taken a cane to her and smacked her senseless. Aches and pains riddled her tender body, especially where the strange old man had so brutally squeezed her hours ago. All she knew was that every inch of her body ached, and there was no one to offer her mercy, or at least company.

She would've given anything to have one of her friends here. Even one of the bad guys would've been great at this point. She needed someone to spit at. She had spent most of the night counting noises. The place was oddly quiet, but when a noise was made it reverberated through the wall as though an earthquake had shaken the land.

They had left her alone, without a single person to keep an eye on her. That bothered her. If they were so callous about holding her, it could only mean that they felt any attempt she made to escape would be futile.

Not that escape was even a viable option. She couldn't move an inch other than her head, as the rest of her young body was stretched to its limit. She couldn't even feel her fingers to wiggle them. Faye wanted nothing more than to fight back, but she feared that in this case, fighting back was not really an option.

What would Spike would do in this situation? She turned the question briefly in her thoughts and realized that she hadn't the slightest clue. He was good, but she didn't really know how good he was. Hard to say. What she did know was simply this: Spike would never have let himself get captured.

Damn that Spike. He was such a pain in the ass.

Jet and Ed were too, and the damn dog, but Spike was the worst of them. He was so casual, so goddamned pig-headed, so arrogant. No one quite did it like Spike.

She had tried to count the hours, but it was difficult because she might have dozed off a time or two while she hung from the ceiling. She was terribly exhausted, but she really didn't like the idea of sleeping in this godforsaken place. Who knew what was lurking just beyond that huge metal door? While she knew it was her only exit, it was very possible that there were a dozen identical soldiers standing guard there.

For a moment, Faye actually wished she'd stayed home, but she refused the very idea that Jet would've been be right. He would've gotten on her case for leaving the Bebop without a word. At least this way, if she ever saw him again, she could just tell him to fuck off and that would be that.

The terrible grinding noise of metal against metal drew her attention to the door. In the bright glow of the light she saw a large silhouette. A man began to approach, a huge, muscle-bound freak of nature with a patch over his left eye. Faye instantly grimaced as the man trudged over toward her. He stood at least seven feet tall, barrel-chested with biceps twice as wide as her own body.

He leaned forward grinning, and Faye felt as though she would be horribly sick. The monster's breath reeked of rotten meat and his jagged teeth were stained brown with tobacco. A big cigar hung from the corner of his mouth, and the embers glowed as he sucked in the intoxicating fumes. His face was bulgy and rounded, with a glossy dome where hair had either been lost, or had never grown.

She let her eyes trail to the mammoth weapons at his hips. Two cannons that she thought were probably large, sawed-off shotguns rested at either hip. Over his right shoulder was the handle of a large club. Everything about the man was huge, especially that horrendous body odor. She didn't say anything, though she did stare back at the tank of a man with the same ferocity as he stared at her. Faye Valentine didn't back down, especially to oversized, disgusting ogres.

The monstrosity of a man reached and grabbed one plump breast, giving it a squeeze. Faye sneered. "Hey! Hands off the merchandise, ugly!"

"Pretty," was all he said as his rough fingers glided over the top of her outfit and trailed lower to the warm flesh of her stomach. His fingers came away with a thin layer of sweat. He tasted it, turning his eyes toward her. "Tasty."

Faye groaned, rolling her eyes. "Mind if I call you Mr. Nasty?"

"Quiet, pretty lady."

Faye gave him a look. "What they took in looks they really didn't give you in terms of brains, did they?"

"Bran said quiet!" He reached out and struck her lightly across the face with the back of his hand. Faye suppressed a cry, more of surprise than pain, and looked away. The big man's hands instantly went to her top once more. She felt the pressure against her bust, and then heard the tear of fabric as he ripped it away, letting her bosom spill free. 'Bran' started to giggle with glee. "Nice titties, pretty lady!" He started fondling her. Faye clenched her eyes tight, unable to twist away from him, unable to cover herself.

At least he's gentle, she thought, though she knew her face was bright red.

"Pretty lady is real nice," Mr. Nasty announced.

"Glad you think so. Now could you take your hands off?"

'Mr. Nasty' removed his hand. "Nice titties," he said again. Faye rolled her eyes. For most men, the compliment would have come across trite and perverted, but for this overgrown ogre, it was almost as if it were the nicest thing anyone could have said. He spoke with the genuine sincerity of a child. "Pretty lady like Bran?" he asked hopefully.

"You're cute," she replied, trying not to grimace. "You know, that bulldog ass-face sorta cute."

Apparently he thought that was hilarious, because the big lug threw his head back and burst out in thunderous laughter. "Pretty lady funny, too!" He actually reached out and gave her what was meant to be a playful shove, but she was tied so tightly that there was no give. He only ended up putting strain on her wrists and ankles. Faye had to fight to hold back the tears.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I'm a real hoot."

Bran giggled and proceeded to poke and prod at her chest. He stopped talking, except for an occasional muttering of nonsense. Several minutes of embarrasment slid past like hours, before the two of them were blissfully interrupted by a deep, angry voice.

"Bran! Just what are you doing in here?"

The big man froze. "Mr. Kelso! Bran want to see pretty lady."

"Yeah? Well ya saw her." The little man with the handlebar mustache gave Faye a curious look. "More of her than the rest of us, it looks."

"At least he had the decency to come in while I was awake," Faye muttered.

"Ah, the bitch talks," Kelso replied. He approached her, peering at her from beneath the rim of his cowboy hat.

"Yeah, the bitch talks," she hissed.

"Wow. This bitch has spunk." He stood there, letting his eyes trail the length of her body. They paused at her chest briefly before falling down to the swell of her hips. "Among other interesting assets."

Bran nodded eagerly. "Pretty lady has nice titties."

"Ah, but the nectar comes from within," Kelso said, grinning.

"Within?"

"You bet your ass."

The big man giggled. "Show Bran."

"Easy." Kelso reached out and grabbed for Faye's fly.

"Hey!"

"Quiet!" The man gave her an angry glare. "You're just eyecandy, bitch. Keep wagging your tongue and I'll fucking cut it out."

Faye swallowed.

With the zipper undone, her tight, yellow shorts slid easily from her hips.

"Oh, sweet nectar," Kelso whispered. "Real sweet."

He fingered her, rubbing her.

"Real nice."

Faye trembled at his touch. "You sick bastard."

"Shuddup," he said.

Bran watched with keen interest. "Sweet nectar?" he asked, pointing. Faye groaned and rolled her eyes.

Kelso grinned. "Oh yeah. Real sweet." He leaned forward and licked her.

"You twisted little fucker!" Faye snapped.

"I said shuddup!" Kelso sneered. He brought his fist around.

Faye felt the air rush from her lungs violently, and would have doubled over if she wasn't hanging from the ceiling.

"Stupid whore!"

"No hit pretty lady, Mr. Kelso."

"She's nothin' but a bitch," the smaller man said. "Hit her all you want."

"But she nice pretty lady."

Faye was almost thankful for Bran's presense.

"She's a fucking bitch," Kelso said. "Men like us go after a bitch like this for two things." He gave her bottom a sudden, violent swat. Faye yelped. "This." He grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed so tight it hurt. She cried out, trying unsuccessfuly to twist away from the little bastard. "And this. Nobody gives a shit how nice she is, so long as she spreads her legs."

"Kelso better be nice to pretty lady. She nice to Bran."

"Fuck, you are a dumbass, aren't you."

The big man glared. "Bran no dumbass."

"Don't you know what to do with pretty ladies, man?"

Bran watched him for a moment, confused. He scratched his bald head, struggling to find his words. "Pretty ladies good to look at."

"Hell no. You stick your prick here." Bran took hold of her in the same place the old man had grabbed her. "Then you fuck her brains out."

"Let go of me, damnit!" Faye shouted.

Kelso glared at her. "Fucking bitch." And then he squeezed.

The agony of a thousand daggers peirced Faye. Tears rolled freely down her face as she let her head fall back and began to sob loudly. The pain was so intense that she surrendered her pride and simply bawled her eyes out.

"Good God!" Kelso grunted. "You getting this, Bran?"

"No hurt pretty lady!"

"She's nothing but a gutless, crying bitch!" Kelso shouted. He reared back and slapped her across the face. "Shut the hell up!"

Faye couldn't stop crying. She was broken.

"No hurt her!" Bran roared, and he suddenly reached out, grabbing the smaller man by the throat. Kelso barely had a chance to reach for his guns before Bran put every bit of his four hundred-plus-pound frame into slamming Kelso into the wall. Even through her sobbing, Faye could hear the sickening crack of the man's neck as Bran tossed him about like a ragdoll and then dropped him on the ground. "Bad Kelso!" To add to smaller man's indignities, Bran kicked him. Then he turned his attention to Faye. "Pretty lady okay?"

Her pain had been forgotten. She simply stared at Kelso's unmoving body, and knew without a doubt that the man was dead.

"Holy shit…" she murmured.

In a surprisingly gentle gesture, Bran touched her cheek. "Kelso no hurt you no more. Pretty lady no cry."

"I can see that." She turned her eyes up to the big man. He was smiling, and she could see the sympathy clearly in his dark eyes. She quickly jiggled her wrists, causing the chains to rattle. He looked up. "Hey, can you help me down?"

Bran frowned. "Quinn no like that."

"Quinn?"

"Old boss man Quinn." The big man sighed. "He no like Bran much."

"Well, pretty lady likes Bran." She watched as his eyes lit up. New hope surged through her. "Pretty lady likes Bran a lot."

He giggled again, and nearly jumped as a spastic jolt coursed up his spine.

"Please, Bran. Help the pretty lady?"

He frowned, and shrugged apologetically. "Quinn no like that."

"Well, Quinn hurt pretty lady too."

"Quinn hurt you?"

"He sure did."

"Bran no like that," he announced decidedly.

"No. Neither does the pretty lady."

The big man drew a slow breath. "How can Bran help? Bran stupid."

Faye frowned. "No. Bran is just misunderstood."

"Misunderstood? Pretty lady really think so?"

"Pretty lady knows so."

He offered her a big, ugly grin. "Bran help them understand." He reached up and grabbed the chains that held her wrists and tore them easily from the marble ceiling. Then he bent to the floor and ripped them from her feet. "Pretty lady okay?"

"Pretty lady very naked," Faye replied, and bent over to pull her shorts back up over her bottom. She gently rubbed the tender spot through the fabric, shuddering at the torturous ache. Fucking bastards, she thought, and went over to the table where her gun and infrared goggles waited. She checked the weapon to find it was still loaded, and that brought a grin to her face. They'd been pretty cocky, but for good reason. How could they have predicted she would join forces with the ugly one? She drew a deep breath and lifted her gun. "Can we get out of here now?" she asked.

"Bran want Uri first."

Faye frowned. "Say again?"

"Uri. Bran want Uri."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Uri likes Bran."

"Uri, huh? Well then, where's this Uri hiding?"

"Uri no hide. Bran pin Uri outside. Quinn no like Uri."

Pinned up, eh? That sounded interesting, to say the least.

Faye grabbed for her yellow top. It was torn, but she managed to adjust it to cover her properly before she and her newfound friend were ready to depart. Slipping her gun into place in the holster on her shorts, she finally smiled. "Okay, let's go get Uri."

The guys were never going to believe this one.