Disclaimer: (----- (means I don't claim that Bebop belongs to me)
Chapter 9: Clutch
All told, the interrogation hadn't taken nearly as long as Vicious had expected. It became clear to him early on that Jet was not at all unskilled at doing the job. In the security of his former occupation, the bounty hunter seemed to take on an entirely different demeanor, exhibiting a calm not unlike that which he had possessed when Vicious had first awakened. The transformation was subtle, but an interesting one to witness.
That said, Vicious wasn't too modest to acknowledge his own role in the developments that took place. Even when the first Crow resolved to remain stonefaced to every inquiry, every now and then his eyes would find their way to Vicious, flick to the blade at his waist, then quickly dart to the floor and sink back into a motionless scowl. Vicious' presence had him on edge. That, along with the added threat of Jet being rather good at what he did, made it less than a surprise when the Crow finally lost his nerve and started backtalking.
After that, it had all gone quickly enough. That first Crow turned out to be the reckless one of the two, for once he had worked his way out of the ropes that held him in the manner of a Houdini, he had bolted out of his chair to...hell, who knows what he was trying to do? Either way, he was run through by Vicious' katana before he could move a step.
By that time, the other Crow had come to, just in time to witness the failed escape attempt. His only response to his partner's end had been to flinch and silently look away, but after seeing what could happen if he tried to challenge them, he turned out to be much more cooperative. He told them all he knew, though it wasn't much. All they were able to get out of him was that they wanted Vicious for some kind of execution. Something having to do with an alliance. When Vicious spoke to him for the first time, with the question of whether the White Tigers were involved, the Crow had thought so, but was no more certain than that.
Finally, when it got to the point that they had wrung him dry of information, Jet had motioned to Vicious and headed to the deck, Ed and Ein in tow, to figure out what to do with the Crow. However, they had not been out of the main room for more than a minute before the Crow solved Jet's problem for him, cutting through the rope with a concealed pocketknife and seeming to decide that he didn't feel like living any longer after betraying his clan. One gunshot, which effectively startled Jet out of his skin and sent Ein into a chorus of barking, and that was that.
At that point, as though it had been triggered by the shot itself, a strange calm had slowly settled over the Bebop. Hardly a word was spoken as Jet and Vicious laid the Crows to rest in the harbor, or while Jet then attempted to put the main room back into some semblance of order. Even Ed was silent when the show was over, announcing her mood with a yawn that probably could have swallowed a small planet, then drifting out of the room to promptly pass out in the middle of the hall. Even in Vicious' case, his body seemed determined to have the last word after being so mishandled; he had stayed up for a bit, but the moment he hit the couch again, he was out for the night.
That only left Jet, with little company but for the thick, almost-eerie silence that had overthrown his ship. In truth, he really didn't quite know what to do with himself now. He felt like he'd been going all day—actually, he had been—but now, his hands were suddenly empty. There was nothing more he could use them for; so, he shoved them in his pockets and took to wandering aimlessly around his ship, absorbed in thoughts that even he couldn't quite decipher. This was the part of the plan that he hated: the part where all they could do was wait.
For a while, that was all Jet did. He knew he should probably sleep—midnight had come and gone while they were disposing of the bodies, after all—but something stubborn in him just didn't want to. There was too much to think about. He didn't even notice, until he happened to turn around, that Ein had taken to following him in his meanderings.
Coming to a halt, Jet took a moment to eye the dog. "What are you doin'?" he asked at length, suddenly getting the feeling that he was being checked up on.
Ein only tilted his head at Jet, giving a small whine.
For a long moment, a small staring contest ensued between man and beast. The silence seemed to grow even heavier as the seconds passed.
Finally, Jet gave a sigh. "Alright, alright..." he grumbled, as though the dog had just given him a lecture, and started heading in the direction of his room, Ein keeping close at his heels and panting slightly with satisfaction. Once they reached the hall, Ein immediately gravitated to Ed, curling up close by, but at a safe enough distance to avoid any flailing limbs. As he opened the door to his own room, Jet took one last glance at the unlikely pair before stepping in and closing the door behind him.
Alright, so the dog had the right idea. The moment Jet set foot in his room, it finally seemed to click in his mind that he was done for today. He had done all he could possibly do with the time he was given, and the only thing allowed on the agenda now was sleep.
And right now, that was sounding like a very good plan.
For having so much on his mind, Jet slept surprisingly well. He wasn't quite sure what time it was when he awoke again, but he could tell right away that he wasn't the first. It was hard not to know when anyone was awake on this ship. In the main room, Jet found that not only wasn't he the first one up, but he was the last. Ed had her goggles snapped over her eyes as her fingers danced over her keyboard, singing a little song in which she named every possible phrase that rhymed with 'e-mail.' On the other side of the room, Vicious was just setting his sheathed katana aside as Jet passed, and chose to take no notice of him. A moment of alarm flashed through Jet before he happened a glance at the coffee table, upon which lay a damp cloth and a whetstone. At that, Jet stifled a sigh of relief; if nothing else, at least the guy took care of his toys.
The only soul in the room that seemed to even recognize that he was there was Ein, who then made a point of bolting into the kitchen to sit hopefully by his bowl. Jet looked at him a moment, then shook his head and went straight for the fridge. If the dog was expecting dog food, he was going to be disappointed. All they had left were bellpeppers, so that's what he got. Bon appétit.
It looked like fate was finally deciding to give Jet a short break, for that morning had the decency to unfold slowly for him, and quietly. Well. Ed notwithstanding.
Much as he would have preferred not to even think about the day before, Jet did bring it up with Vicious once he'd finished feeding Ein, and the Dragon filled him in on what the Crow had probably been referring to.
"It isn't unheard of," Vicious replied when asked about the execution. "Ritual execution is a favorite method of the White Tigers. Normally only used for rival bosses and long-standing grudges."
"Grudge?" Jet raised an eyebrow from where he leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. "Then what did they want Spike for?"
Vicious' eyes darkened slightly, but he answered nonetheless, only a small note of bitterness making its way into his voice. "He was powerful. The favorite of Mao. If he had chosen a successor, it would have been Spike. If anyone tried to rebuild the Red Dragon clan now, he is who the men would follow."
"That doesn't make any sense!" was Jet's reply, his brows knitting in confusion. "He's been out of that game for years. Why the hell would they think he'd jump back in now?"
"He has already done that." Vicious briefly looked Jet in the eye as he pointed out that fact, as if for emphasis. "They don't know what he planned on doing after. Better to be rid of him before they can find out."
"Shoot them before they shoot you..." Jet found himself muttering to no one in particular, in recollection of something Faye had once claimed was her motto. From the sound of it, she wasn't the only one.
As Vicious brought Jet up to date with what he now knew about their ordeal, the morning that had begun so leisurely seemed to grow bored with the pace, instead choosing to fly. By the time Jet had been told all he needed, gotten everyone fed, and prepared himself for the day, he could practically feel every minute slipping through his fingers. It was suddenly less than an hour before they would have to leave, and the hell if he felt ready. All there was to do now was to gather up his firepower from all the various hiding places around the ship. Whenever Spike decided to tangle himself up in the syndicates, he took every piece of artillery he could find. If that was what he needed, then it was the least Jet could do to follow his example.
The kid had been at it for three hours now.
Vicious really hadn't paid any mind to her that morning when she first sat down at her computer with the announcement of "E-mail, e-mail, seeeeeecret e-mail!" It didn't seem out of the ordinary when an hour passed her by in that same spot. Even her spontaneous outbursts of "HA!" or the occasional giggling fit weren't too far-fetched, based on what Vicious had seen of her.
At that point he had gone into the other room to train for a while, so if worse came to worse, he wouldn't be going in cold. Thankfully, his body seemed more compliant today, after getting a decent (in Vicious' opinion, ridiculous) amount of rest. Careful not to overdo it, he had then returned to the main room, only to find Ed in the exact same spot, grinning madly at the screen. A lot of strange people had crossed his path in his time, but he couldn't think of any who were quite like this kid.
Vicious had hardly stepped into the room, throwing a glance at the girl, when Jet appeared in the other doorway, looking less than thrilled at how quickly time was passing. A glimpse of the two visible guns at the bounty hunter's waist told him that Jet seemed to have prepared for the worst; if he was carrying enough artillery that not all of it could be hidden, then there was no question that he was worried.
"Five minutes," Jet informed him simply, then turned away without seeming to expect a response. He didn't get one; Vicious merely snatched his trenchcoat from where it was draped on one of the couch's arms, then pulled it on in one swift motion.
Meanwhile, Jet observed Ed's mysterious project with a hint of suspicion. "What are you doing, Ed?" he questioned, taking a step towards her.
"Noooooooothing," she drawled, hunching over the screen more closely. "Top-secret, super-confi-DENNNNtial, for Ed's eyes only!" was as far as she cared to go in explanation. Jet raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued, then took another step forward in attempt to see just what was so important. However, Ein immediately jumped to his feet from where he'd been dozing next to her and growled at him.
Jet frowned at the dog. "What?" he asked, as if Ein could explain himself. "Don't tell me you're on her side?" He reached in with his left arm to move Ein out of the way, but the dog refused to be moved and instead leapt into the air, latching his jaw around the metal of Jet's arm. Jet jerked back with the surprise element, then loosened and lifted his arm to eye-level. Ein held fast, easily dangling from his arm. "Alright, fine..." he said, looking at the dog oddly. In reply, Ein released his arm and dropped to the ground, landing on his feet and returning to his original position. "So much for 'man's best friend,'" Jet muttered to himself, glancing at the clock. Three minutes.
With a last quick look around the room to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything, seriousness found its way into the air around him. Didn't look like he was forgetting anything important...except maybe his nerve...
"Ed," he addressed the girl again, continuing his scan as he spoke, "we're gonna be gone for a while, so don't open the door for anyone until we get back, alright?"
"Yes, yes..." she replied impatiently, her fingers never slowing.
Getting the feeling that he wouldn't receive much more than that from Ed, Jet shifted his attention to Ein, just meeting the dog's eyes for a second. Once the second had passed, the dog almost seemed to nod in agreement with whatever had just been exchanged, then laid his head on his paws and closed his eyes.
"Jet." He glanced up at the sound of his name; he almost didn't recognize it, coming from Vicious' throat. Come to think of it, this was the first time Vicious had addressed him at all. One look in the Dragon's direction, and he knew that he was out of time. Without a word, he straightened back up, glanced around once more, and headed for the door.
Not a single word was spoken on the brief walk to the station. The day was cool but humid, the air weighing down on them without restraint. Jet took to glancing at his watch every couple of minutes, making it clear just how calm he wasn't. Vicious, on the other hand, walked a path of seeming indifference. He knew, more or less, what was coming; it was only a matter of how ready they were for it.
If Jet didn't know better, he would swear that Tharsis City was a ghost town; he had never seen the streets so unpopulated. Now and then a kid would run by, chasing after his dog, or they would pass some old men arguing over a card game or something, but other than those infrequent interruptions, the only sounds in the air were birdsongs and footsteps.
Just when Jet was finally able to put himself on autopilot for a while, disappearing into his thoughts while his feet took him in the right direction, he realized that the two of them had reached the block upon which the station was located. Damnit.
The moment they set foot inside the police station, Vicious suddenly seemed a bit more interested in their surroundings. His eyes traveled over every soul in the establishment, pausing briefly on one person here and there.
He had known little about the Jade Crows to begin with, but now he was beginning to see how they worked. Of everyone in this room, not counting himself and Jet, only about one in four of them was an honest policeman. Everyone else carried the telltale glint of confidence in their eye, the shade of authority in their stature, or even just the carelessness to stiffen slightly when their eyes fell upon the two of them. They had all but irreparably corrupted the law enforcement of Tharsis City.
Predictably, the woman behind the front desk carried such a glint as well. She didn't bother with appearances; one glance at them, and she stood from her chair, turning toward the hall on the far right with a gesture for them to follow.
She led them through a few nondescript corridors without a word. As they neared the back of the station, Vicious noted, they were passed by fewer and fewer legitimate cops. By the last hallway, there were none to speak of. Instead of continuing as they had been, as this hall ended in an exit, the Crow slowed to a stop, pulling out a card to unlock the last door on the right, which sported a small plate reading, 'Employees Only.'
Once the door swung open, the Crow stepped aside, throwing them a pointed look. Unable to do much else, the two of them went in the room before her, keeping quiet as she stepped in after them and locked the door behind her.
That done, the Crow slipped the key-card back into her pocket, this time coming out with a small keypad. Aiming it in the general direction of the back wall, which appeared to be cheap and movable, made up of off-white slats, she began to punch in a code, paying no attention to the other two occupants of the room.
One last digit, and Jet's eyes darted toward the back wall at the sound of machinery beginning to shift. Before his eyes, two of the wall-slats slowly parted, inch-by-inch revealing the inner compartment of an elevator.
Stepping over to it, the Crow reached out a hand to hold the doors open, suddenly acknowledging Jet and Vicious' presence again.
"Get in," she commanded shortly, following them attentively with her eyes as they did so.
Damn... Jet thought to himself as they stepped into the elevator with her. What the hell is this?
The elevator they were in was actually fairly large, as though it wasn't just used for transporting people. It was nothing flashy, the most expensive bit probably being the carpeting of its floor, but then, he supposed that crime syndicates had more important things to worry about than the quality of their elevators. Not a word was said as the compartment automatically began to lower once the doors closed. As far as Jet was concerned, the thing might as well have been lowering into Hell. Since his ISSP days, he'd told himself and told himself that he wouldn't get mixed up with the syndicates; and yet, here he was, in an elevator with two mobsters, about to either save his ex-con partner or die trying. Funny how the world worked.
A noticeable chill cooled the air in the elevator as it slowed to a stop, and the three occupants of the compartment received a small gust of air as the doors slid open and the pressure of the underground kicked in.
Right away, two men in long, dark green trenchcoats with silver trimming stepped in front of the opening, guns in hand. Hearing the safety of another gun click off, Jet glanced over to see that the Crow who had accompanied them also had her gun pointed at them. A jerk of the gun clearly told them to get out.
This they did without words or heroics, followed by the Crow, who snatched an identical trenchcoat from one of the other clan men in passing when he held it out to her. Without slowing her stride, she quickly slipped it on and took the lead once again.
Looking around, they found themselves in a large warehouse with an upper balcony adhering to the perimeter. Crates were stacked against walls and away from them, as well as several carts lined up here and there. Those, Jet guessed, were what the elevator was made for.
Meanwhile, the first Crow went to one of the others—the one who had handed her the trenchcoat—and spoke quietly to him for a moment. When she'd finished, he nodded once, then left them, vanishing through a door that Jet assumed led to some kind of stairwell. How else could they get to that balcony?
So far, Vicious had kept up his veil of indifference flawlessly. If Jet's mind hadn't been running rampant in all directions, he might have stopped a moment to be impressed or annoyed, if not both.
All four pairs of eyes looked up when the door to the probably-stairwell creaked open once more. The light from the inner room silhouetted three forms this time, rather than one, the second of which was carelessly supported between the other two. Jet didn't even notice he was holding his breath as the door was closed behind them, and as he was gradually more able to make out who they were in the dim light.
And the moment he could see, it took everything in Jet to restrain himself from shouting in either joy or rage—he hadn't decided yet—when he saw that the limp, trembling form between them had a crown of unruly green hair.
He had seen Spike half-dead before. Several times before, as Spike always managed to get himself roughed up somehow; but that didn't mean that it ever got easier. As he got a closer look, Jet almost wanted to avert his eyes. The Crows had obviously spent as little time on his injuries as humanly possible, and his left arm was held very stiffly against him, as if he had jammed it somehow. He seemed like he was half-conscious, but his eyes were squeezed shut, so it was hard to tell.
One of the Crows holding him, the one who had gone to get him, glanced at the woman who had led them; one curt nod from her, and he took Spike away from the other Crow, then all but threw him in Jet's and Vicious' general direction. Vicious' arms instinctively shot up of their own accord, just in time to catch Spike's shoulders in them.
The moment Vicious' hands touched him, Spike's eyes flew open wide and looked straight into his. A thousand questions flooded into his wide-eyed stare, and for a moment the two of them were frozen in eyelock. Vicious' hands unconsciously tightened their grip on Spike's arms for a moment; then, just as quickly as he had caught him, Vicious turned Spike over to Jet.
"He's drugged," Vicious murmured quietly, his first words since they'd left the ship. "Could come down anytime." Jet nodded, comprehending the information and making a note that if they lived through this, to never, ever let Spike leave the ship again.
In the few seconds it took for this to take place, the four Crows in the room had sent subtle, pointed glances toward each wall of the warehouse, lingering at certain stacks of crates or carts, then abruptly shifted their attention to Vicious.
The woman, who seemed to be the ringleader at least among these few, was the one who addressed Vicious. "You. Dragon." He met her eyes in silence, and she gestured to the door with her firearm. "This way."
Without a word, Vicious obeyed, undaunted. One of the men who had confronted them at the elevator opened the door for him; Vicious didn't even dignify him with a glance.
Jet tensed up, clutching Spike's shaking form to him a little more tightly as Vicious calmly disappeared into the next room. The moment the door closed, the air in the room suddenly felt very wrong, making Jet's stomach jump slightly. He knew his intuition was almost always on target, and unless it was failing him now, that could only mean—
His thoughts were both interrupted and confirmed when he heard the sounds of several guns being cocked, from all around him. His pulse racing, he glanced around the room, trying to find where these shooters were hiding; finding only that he couldn't, he internally shook himself to stay calm.
"We'd like to thank you for your cooperation," the woman said, making Jet's eyes dart back to her, "but your services won't be needed anymore."
To my spifftacular reviewers:
VanillaRose-After this chapter, there shall be about seven more chapters. Or six and an epilogue. However you wanna see it, I s'pose. Just for the record, I love your reviews. n.n
Shteve-Yeah, well. For whatever reason, that part of the scene didn't want to be written that way—and either way, I've gotta give the guy a break, after being all shot up and roughed up and...roughed up more... (shrug) Sorry to disappoint you, but don't worry, that is hardly the only action sequence in store.
Bob the barbarian-o.o Wow, you devoted a whole night to this fic? That's CRAZY! And AWESOME! Thanks for that. As for Vicious, well, it's an interpretation. I know I've seen several versions of Vicious on this site, from the considerably barbaric to more civilized than my version; guess it's all a matter of opinion, what with the whole five episodes we get of him. (shrug) Either way, thanks so much for the review!
Picon-n.n Yeah, I kinda felt bad for him too, lol. As for the interrogation, you shall find out very soon. :)
jdchs-(LOL) Yes, I love 'im too. Vicious is such fun. Trust me, this isn't any 10-chapter fic; technically, it just got to the halfway-mark last chapter, so there's plenty to go. I agree about Jet and Vicious making a decent team; that was part of the reason I decided to write this in the first place, after seeing that, GASP, there were no fics at all with Jet and Vicious as the main characters! It had to be done. Thank you so much for your reviews! They brighten my day! n.n
microfiber shoelaces-(blink) ...Well, okay then! Perhaps this chapter will give you more to remark upon. Thanks for reviewing nonetheless!