4- Civilized World
Some people think of the Cowboys as troublemaker vigilantes. They get angry at these scarred, bully-type 'ruffians' for making their way in the world without the struggle of the corporate ladder and all that shit. Perhaps those are the people who are jealous of a lifestyle that appears so free.
I was never one of those people, but I admit I did believe that whole allusion of outer space portrayed as an open range. Something I learned throughout everything is that Nothing is Free, not even opportunity.
~*~
"What's that?" Faye asked, eyeing my drink with distain.
"That's a coke," I said.
"A rum and coke?"
"No, just a coke."
Faye frowned. "And what's that?" she pointed to the glass next to it.
"That's an ice tea."
"A Long Island ice tea?"
"No, Faye, it's just an ice tea." I began to sip at my soda, but it wasn't easy to enjoy it while Faye was staring at me the way she did. The stare was a mixture of displeasure and disbelief, and I frankly didn't see what was so fascinating about my refreshments. "What?" I asked.
Faye continued to stare at me for a moment before wrinkling her nose, the four vodka shots she'd lined up momentarily forgotten. "Don't you ever drink?" she asked.
I wrinkled my nose as well. "You sound like Marla."
"It's a valid question."
I had to fight to suppress my annoyance, because you see, people are ~always~ asking me that. Vivika, don't you drink? Sometimes it seems like that's all I hear at parties. "It's not that I don't drink, socially, on occasion," I explained for the thousandth time to someone, first time to her. "I just think there are other things that taste better."
Faye smirked. "It's not about the taste as much as the effect…" she trailed off to down one, then another, and then the third tequila shot in professional succession. When her facial expression returned she shook her head and gave an airy laugh. Finally she turned back in her seat and began to stare at me again, looking me up and down. "So what ~do~ you do? I just couldn't picture you getting high…"
"Huh?" I gaped. "Where did that come from?"
"Well I'm just saying…" she paused to suck on a slice of lime, features contorting once more when the sourness hit her tongue. "I'm just saying—curious actually—what do you do when you need a break?"
"From what?"
Down went the last tequila.
"Everything."
The glass hit the table with a clang, and I sat quietly, trying to think of a response.
Faye began to suck more alcohol from a tiki-shaped mug through a twisty straw as she fiddled with the toothpick umbrella that came with it. While watching her, something in the back of my mind told me I should disapprove of this woman, while another part of me brought up the point that at least Faye looked a lot calmer now than when we left Spiegel and that hotel.
I did as I usually did when faced with inner conflictions, which is ignore both sides and wait for someone else to start talking.
And eventually Faye did start talking, although half the time I was pretty sure it was to herself.
"So middle class, Vivika. You're so middle class," she said to me, and I wondered how much alcohol was in one shot of tequila, let alone four. "In fact, it's abnormal—you know what kind of life you have?"
"Um…"
"It's like an after school special—are there other people like you?" she began to look at me as if I were a cartoon character, blinking constantly with both eyebrows arched way up. "I thought they all died fifty years ago…I'd like to meet these people—tell them I used to be one of their…their kind…that I'm still here.
I'm still here but I've changed…" a rattling sound began to emanate from her mug, revealing she was sucking ice now instead of whatever that drink had been.
"And it's surprisingly easy how it all goes to hell. That's the reason there's so many homeless—and fuck it if you don't want to live in a box you'll turn out like me."
"I will?" I couldn't quite follow.
"No not ~you~," Faye snapped. "I'm talking about the rest of those 'normal' types…Marsha, Marsha, Marsha…" she began to laugh with that creepy, bitter chuckle she so often uses.
"Shit. I've lost it."
"Lost what?" I was almost afraid to ask.
Faye picked up one of the empty glasses and gave the amber-colored ice a faint smile. "My mind…"
I wasn't sure if that comment required a respectful silence, but when the waiter arrived and set a few bottles down in front of us, I watched Faye stare at hers without any movement to claim it and couldn't help but ask, "Wasn't that the point?"
"The point…" Faye repeated quietly. She'd become stoic so quickly it caught me by surprise. She no longer stared at me, or at anything in particular except the condensation ring on the table next to the smoking ash tray. "…But… at least I'm still here."
That night was the first time I realized that there are three kinds of drunks in this world: the happy, the sad, and the philosophical. I know Faye wasn't the happy kind, but everyone seems to have their own ideas on the border between the other two.
"So tell me what went on back there," I prompted in a selfish attempt to change the subject.
Faye grunted. "You saw."
"Yeah, but I didn't get it," I pointed out. I waited a couple moments for her to say something, but when she did not, I fed her another starting point asking, "So where do you know Spike Spiegel from?"
With a loud, surrendering sigh Faye picked up the unopened bottle and began to twist it around in her hands in an absent minded sort of way. "Marla told you he was a Cowboy, don't you remember?"
"Yeaaah…" I blinked. The wheels in my head seemed to turn too slowly, but they were picking up speed at least a little at a time. "And you were a Cowgirl…so you know each other from that?" I blinked, running over what little I knew about bounty hunters. "So is it like a club or something…where you all know each other and stuff?"
Faye's jaw dropped open, her eyes widened, and she sat staring at me like that for at least a second and a half before she busted up laughing, loud enough to turn all the nearby heads at the bar.
"Oh, Vivika!" She breathed through the stitch in her side. "When you heard Young Man's Cowboy Association—you actually thought the Cowboys associated with one another!!" Finally the beer-tinted giggles began to subside, and she sat up straight with her elbows on the bar and a hand pressed on her lips. Her shoulders shook every few seconds and her eyes glistened in mirth while glancing in my direction. "Oh you poor kid!" was all she managed to say without starting the cackling fit over. "You don't know anything!"
I gave her my best grumpy look, but I think it only added to her humor. I admit I didn't know much at all about the Cowboys back then. Most of my information on them came from Marla's lawyer, Jerry.
~*~*~
"Have you ever even considered, Vivika, what would happen if there wasn't a bounty system?" he'd asked me one day when I popped in to pick up some papers for Marla to sign.
"No," I answered. "But I suppose that would mean more work for the ISSP, wouldn't it?"
"Oh don't kid youself, Viv," he sighed. "The ISSP can't do anything. They're all red tape, and investigation. They don't stop the criminals, they just have their forensics guys tell them who to set up a bounty for—nobody really wants to protect and serve anymore. People want quick cash. That's why there are more Cowboys than officers."
"What about the army?" I countered, frowning at his cynicism.
He shook his head. "So far, it's all politics," Jerry told me. "If we weren't under Syndicate rule, it'd be martial law, and at least the Syndicates have a knack for business."
I gaped at him, unable to believe it. "You're a lawyer and you like the Syndicate? You like it that we have to have these Cowboys running around everywhere?"
Jerry shook his head and put his hands on my shoulders. "I don't like it, it's just the system. It's the system, and it's as good as it's gonna get—unless someone's actually dumb enough to take on one of the biggies, like the Dragons or something (keep in mind that this conversation was long before Spike ever made a legend of himself, just after Jerry graduated from law school) but as a lawyer I'm forced to be realistic."
He smiled then, and let go of me, sending me out the door with a pat on the arm. "Go on home, Vivika. Just forget what I said. I like it better when you smile, and I can't seem to tell you anything happy."
Just another person telling me how lucky I was to be so naïve, but I was, wasn't I?
~*~*~*~
Faye had stopped laughing long before I snapped out of my memories, and by the time I was paying attention again she'd settled down into a kind of stupor.
The quiet soon made me uncomfortable, so I waved a hand in front of Faye's face, which seemed to surprise her for a second before she gained her ground. "So what are we going to do about this Syndicate thing?"
Faye groaned in disgust as I reminded her of our present predicament. "Uggh, I'm thinking," she began to tap on an empty shot glass. "I'm thinking; just give the inspiration a few minutes to go through my blood stream."
"Fine, fine," I said. "You're in charge, just please come up with something before the hangover kicks in."
"Ugghh…"
"And speaking of hangovers, don't you think we should call up Marla and tell her what happened?"
With her mouth firmly pressed into her sleeves, Faye gave a muffled shriek like a child being smothered by a pillow. She slammed her open palms onto the table so hard the glasses rattled. "I can't believe I'm back involved with this. It's her own fault anyway!"
"What? How?"
"Marla got us into this shit, don't you see?" She stared at me wide-eyed. "You don't see, do you?"
I shrugged.
"Oh Vivika," she leaned her open palm into her forehead, shaking her head pathetically in exasperation with me. "Did you really, really believe that someone can just waltz right into Syndicate headquarters like we did back there---and not have any ~consequences~!?"
I hunched my shoulders as if they could hide me. "What kind of consequences?"
"It's that chain reaction I was talking about," she grumbled. "Look at it this way: do you know how to drive something out into the open? Like…I dunno, a rabbit or something. Say you were looking for a rabbit in the bushes, and since you're obviously not going to want to crawl through the bushes on your hands and knees, you have to drive it out into the open—get it?"
"About the rabbit? Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with Marla."
Faye sighed. "Let me finish," she commanded, muttering some discontentment over the rabbit analogy under her breath. "Now you've got a rabbit in a bush—how would you drive it out?"
I bit my lip. "Um…hit the bush with a stick?"
She blinked. "Yeah, I guess that would work too…" Her own version probably involved guns or something. "So think of Marla as the stick."
"What?"
"Ughh.. this isn't working..." Faye grumbled the obvious, her face scrunching into a familiar sour look that I recognized from our poker lessons. She gave me that look whenever I asked what cards made up a flush, or something like that. "Look, I can't draw you a picture here… I know this stuff isn't your thing, but, just try to understand—keep an open mind or whatever."
"I can!" I insisted. "I'm not dumb, ya know."
"Ughhh.. fine, sorry, you're not dumb, just ignorant, and it's not like that's your fault…" As I debated whether or not to try glaring again, for it usually only served to amuse her, she began to explain.
"The Red Dragons are keeping their business profile low," she started. "They're pretty small right now, and the Gold Serpent Circle could probably wipe them out, if not for one thing."
"What is it?"
"Spike Spiegel," Faye replied, the telltale shadow of a smirk across her lips for one tiny moment. It had been almost like…a glimmer of pride.
I thought about what she'd said. Spike Spiegel could turn the tides in a Syndicate war? Who was this guy—Alexander the Great? He certainly hadn't looked the part from what I'd seen, just a man who needed a haircut, who liked to smoke and apparently push Faye's buttons as well. Of course, I'd only seen him for five minutes, but that image seemed like the polar opposite of the mental image I'd conjured up of the famed Dragon Slayer.
"He's that good?" I asked, hearing how meek and awe filled my own voice sounded. "It really isn't just hype?"
Faye gave a heavy sigh and leaned back in her chair. "When people are lost…they make heroes," her voice was low and quiet. "When the Red Dragon Syndicate began to crumble with that coup...all those agents who based their confidence on a strong leader, they got scared. They needed a hero, but they didn't have to make one. Spike was already there…and so was Vicious."
Her voice had gotten progressively harder and harder to hear, and I'd barely caught the last part. It seemed that a respectful silence was appropriate. I wanted to ask more about this Vicious or—as I referred to him in my head—'the sword guy' but it just didn't seem the right time.
"Anyway," Faye's tone became business-like as she came back to earth. "Vicious is dead, who knows who the Circle has turned to now, but the point is that the Dragons have Spike—and they need Spike. It's very important to the balance of power."
"It's political?" I wondered aloud.
Faye snorted. "No. Politics is words. The Syndicate is action."
"Oh.." My stomach had started to twist a little. I didn't like how complicated this was getting. Faye obviously hadn't even gotten around to her real point yet, and if that point needed a history lesson, it wouldn't be too straight forward.
"So you can see that the Circle's top priority isn't the Dragons, it isn't even Marla, it's Spike."
"Oh.." I repeated. "Is that why we got out of there so fast?"
Faye's eyebrow twitched. "You're missing the point," she said. "The Circle is using Marla to get to Spike."
I blinked. "Wha--? What does one have to do with the other!?"
Faye exhaled loudly. "Okay, lets try another one of those analogy things," she suggested. I groaned in protest, but she ignored me. "Do you know where to buy drugs, Vivika?"
"What? NO!"
"Well let's pretend for a moment that you want to buy some, okay?" The corners of her mouth had turned up into a smirk, and I nodded begrudgingly. "What's the first thing you'd do?"
"Go to a dealer?"
"Where's the dealer?"
"Oh…um…I suppose I'd ask around," I tried.
Faye's smile stayed, and she raised an eyebrow. "Ask who? Anyone?"
I laughed. "Well of course not! I'd have to ask somebody who'd know… and I couldn't ask someone who'd call the cops on me."
"You would have to be careful," Faye nodded. "But what if you were above the law? What if you had so much power that nobody would dare touch you unless they were big enough to match?"
It was as if someone had oiled one of the gears in my brain and as a result, the whole machine was turning at an alarming rate. "Someone like Marla!" I cried, starting to understand where Faye was going with this. "If Marla wanted to find something she wouldn't have to worry about who she asked, and people would tell her what she wanted cause she's in a position to give out great rewards…"
"Exactly," Faye acknowledged me solemnly. "The Circle is using Marla to find Spike, simply because she can."
I remained silent, taking all of that in. It sort of made sense. There Marla had come, wanting to get her curiosity satisfied, and the Circle could easily have used that to their advantage. Faye and I didn't know what had gone on in that meeting with Mr. Byres, but what was for sure was that Marla had come out of the office with enough information to begin her search for the Dragon Slayer.
"Still, there are a lot of holes in this," I pointed out, and Faye shrugged. "Like how come if the Circle is just as—well actually way, way more powerful than Marla—how come they can't find Spike themselves?"
"It's that chain reaction I was talking about," Faye explained. "When the Syndicate comes knocking on your door and asks you questions, you answer them, and if you're still alive then you keep your mouth shut. Any Syndicate is based on the principle of Shut the Hell Up."
"But Marla doesn't go around killing people…" I added. "So they wouldn't be afraid of her."
She nodded. "If the Syndicate is looking for something, you're supposed to keep it all secret so they can sneak up on their target and surprise 'em. But if a billionaire starts poking her nose around a bad neighborhood calling out names—well, people will talk, and nothing spreads faster than a rumor."
"And the chain reaction is…?"
Faye's fingers strummed on the table in obvious agitation. I watched her eyes flick hungrily towards a man at the bar who was smoking a cigarette, and her twitching fingers became more obvious. She shook her head as if to clear it before replying.
"The chain reaction is this: Marla asks someone a question about Spike, that person doesn't know anything but that person tells his friends that some big shot out of Tramalchio is up to something and those guys get curious too. People tell people. The grapevine gets so thin you can hear anything through it, and suddenly it's the talk of the underworld that somebody's after the Dragon Slayer."
"Like hitting at a bush with a stick," I mumbled, remembering the original analogy.
"Soon all the talk would be too dangerous, and Spike'll have to find a new hiding spot—"
"Which'll bring him out into the open long enough for the Circle to take care of it," I finished. "I think I get it now."
She shrugged.
"It's a just theory—it would at least explain why the circle let Marla go, alive and everything…" we exchanged glances then, both thinking the same thing. We hadn't talked to my boss since right before the shooting, and there was a chance that after all these hours full of Syndicate activity, she might not be alive anymore.
"OH FUCK!" Faye shouted with more disgust than worry. She slammed her hands on the table again, and left them there pressing down on the wood as she took many loud, deep breaths. When she finally recovered some composure, she started at the bottle of beer the waiter had brought. "Call her. Tell her to stay put wherever she is; she's got herself in a bad position, and things'll somehow manage to get worse if she dies."
No sooner had I turned my phone on, even before I could dial, it rang, and a moment later Marla Hearst's face appeared on the screen.
"Finally!" she cried. "Where the hell have you been!?"
"Look," I started. "I'm sorry I didn't pick you up but—"
"The car got shot up," Marla finished for me, waving her hand aggressively. "I know, I know, it's all over the news—'Marla Hearst's car attacked, no bodies found, expected kidnapping…' blah blah, it goes on like that, but what was I supposed to think? You know, Vivika, if you're involved in a near death experience it's considerate to let people KNOW that it was a NEAR experience and not an actual DEATH! Why the hell did you wait so long to check in?"
"Um…sorry?" I managed before my boss started talking again.
"Oh and then there's the thing that since it's my car everyone on Mars thinks I've been Shanghaied or something—not to mention Jerry's been calling me like every thirty seconds to check if there's any word from you, which is almost as often as your parents have been calling…"
"My parents? Oh hell…" with the hand that wasn't holding the phone I quickly slapped my forehead four or five times growling 'stupid stupid stupid' at myself with each hit. In all the…well, let's say "excitement", I'd forgotten that the billionaire's car being attacked would bound to get attention, and people would be worried.
"Marla! You didn't tell them I was dead or anything did you?"
"No I did not," she spat back indignantly. "I only told them what I knew, and that was that you WEREN'T ANSWERING YOUR FUCKING PHONE!!!!"
"I turned it off," I replied meekly, hoping Marla hadn't screamed at my mother and father.
"OFF? Why the hell—"
For once I managed to interrupt her. "Marla I have something important to tell you," I blurted out in a rush. "But I gotta call my parents first—"
"And Jerry," she added. "He's phone-stalking me too."
"—And Jerry, so I'll call you right back, just…just…I'll call you back!" And with that I hung up and sprang to my feet, nearly knocking my chair over. From the way my boss had shouted, Faye had heard pretty much everything even from the other side of the table.
"Maybe we should have called earlier…" she mused aloud as if she only half believed it herself. "She sounded worried."
"She sounded pissed," I replied. I wasn't listening to Faye as well as I should have, in hindsight, but I was busy searching my purse for my correspondence book.
Faye was sipping her beer sort of absently, shaking her head just a little and staring at nothing once more. "No… she was worried. She had that tone. I know that tone; I've heard that tone. She was worried."
I stopped shuffling through my handbag and stared at her quietly for a moment. Faye's words needed decoding, as per usual, but my brain was slow to compute. "My parents are gonna talk a lot, I might be a while. Do you want to call anyone first?" I offered, holding out my communicator.
Faye stared at the comm. as if she didn't know what it was, then glanced at me before moving back to the phone. She shook her head slowly. "No, that's fine."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "Don't you have to get yelled at by someone?"
Faye smiled. I can't help but wonder if she actually thought she looked happy, because she seemed to be trying hard enough, but it came out so depressing. "No. That's fine. Go make your phone call." She'd hardly finished her sentence before I rushed off towards the bathroom.
When I dialed my parent's number, it was busy. It took me three tries to get through, after which there was much crying and scolding and apologizing and the usual suggestions about changing careers. The conversation was long, loud, and although quite touching from my point of view, it's not important to the story so I'll skip it over.
After managing to end the conversation with my family on the claim of a low battery, I started to dial Jerry but figured I'd been away from the table far too long to be polite (even if it was for a good reason). When I reached Faye again, she didn't notice me until I'd reclaimed my chair in front of her and her head snapped up as if she were waking. "Make your call?" she asked.
I nodded. "I've got one more left, but we probably ought to get things straight with Marla first." I took out the comm.. device once more and let my thumb hover over the speed dial, frowning. "Think she'd get the rabbit scenario?"
Faye sighed. "Stop stalling, let's get it over with. We still need to find someplace to stay tonight."
"Right," I agreed, pressing the button to ring my boss. Once again she answered immediately.
"So?" I couldn't tell from the tiny screen where she was exactly, only that she sat with her chin in her hand and a bored expression. "What's this important thing you had to tell me?" Oh, how to word it? Marla, you're part of a theoretical yet elaborate Syndicate scheme to kill the Dragon Slayer—not right. Nothing was right.
"You're in danger," I tired uncertainly. Across the table, Faye was waving me on. "T-the Red Dragons are…they think you've allied yourself with the Circle—yeah…---and that's why they shot up the car. You have to stay hidden until Faye and I can get to you." My voice began to grow louder, confidence increasing as I realized that my lie—although large—was actually believable.
"Stay hidden?" my boss wrinkled her nose in disgust in disbelief. Low Profile isn't exactly a Hearst's specialty. "But I'm out in public right now—Fox Cross Pub, it's on Elm."
"Elm?" I looked to Faye, who shook her head. "We're pretty far from there and it's too late to rent a car right now. Is there someplace you can hide out until morning."
"Morning?" Marla winced and turned her face to look at something outside of the screen's view. "Well…" she finally sighed. "I suppose I could get the guy to buy me breakfast afterwards. I dunno where the place'll be though…"
"I'll call you once we've gotten the car and you can tell me then," I rushed her. "Just try to stay in doors—and sober." I hung up and turned off the comm. before she could protest, and then all I could do was hope she followed instructions.
With a relieved sigh I closed the comm. unit and shoved it back in my purse. "Well I'm glad that's over with for now. Dunno what we're gonna to in the morning though…" I'd hoped right then that Faye would pop in with a plan she'd concocted, but no luck. "So…are we going to find a hotel or something?"
At the mention of hotel, my mind wondered to the place we'd left. I pictured Spike Spiegel on the lobby stairs, lazily looking down at us with hidden emotions I couldn't guess at, and hardly noticed through my fear… and Faye, with her strange argument ringing in my ears…her knowledge of the Syndicate life…
Things happen, I realized. Things happen every day that are so dangerous and strange I probably couldn't comprehend them.
"What was that?" I asked as I suddenly heard Faye grumble something.
"I said 'sucks'."
"What sucks?"
She jerked her head towards the small stage at the front of the room near the far side of the bar. A pale, scrawny man with overly good posture was playing the saxophone with his elbows tucked amazingly far in.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "Don't you like jazz? Not a blues fan?"
"Hmph." Faye uncrossed her legs before recrossing with the other leg on top. "I like blues, jazz, and music for that matter—and that noise is not music," she scoffed, sneering at the sax player who took no notice of her. He kept watching the clock on the far wall as if he couldn't wait to leave.
I turned away from my stage to face forward again, shrugging. "Sounds fine to me."
Faye chuckled and rose from her seat. "Then you haven't heard a professional—if you had, that slop would offend your ears."
I left my seat too, dropping a few woolongs on the table before following Faye through the crowned bar towards the fire exit. My thoughts turned to Spike and his reputation. "You sure know a lot of professionals, Faye," I pointed out.
"Art is art," she grinned and winked. "I'm a professional too, you know, under a different title of course."
"Cowgirl?"
"Poker Alice," she smirked, leaning against the door.
As soon as it opened, we stepped out into the alleyway beside the bar. There was a shadowy strip between where the light from the bar door's bulb left off and the light from the street seeped in, On the edge of that strip Faye stopped me by extending an arm to block my path.
I opened my mouth to whisper something, but she looked deep in concentration, her other hand resting on her hip. Everything afterward was as sudden as the first attack. The arm which had blocked me suddenly shoved me down. I heard a click of a gun, a curse, and a *WHAP* as something from the dark knocked the gun out of Faye's hands.
It landed near me, and I rose to get it, but before I'd even stood completely something hit me in the back. I saw white for a split-second, then nothing at all.
I don't know how long I was out, but when I came to things didn't look so good from my angle (that angle being from the ground, kind of dizzy, with litter and asphalt bits sticking to the side of my face).
Two men were lying nearby, knocked out or maybe dead, but Faye appeared to be having trouble with three others. They'd backed her into a wall, which for a horror filled moment I thought meant she was done for, but she used the wall for leverage with her next high kick and another man went down.
That seemed to be all she had left though. Before the remaining two even touched her, she crumpled to the ground, holding her side.
"Just a woman, you said," grumbled one of the men, examining his fallen comrades.
"Shut up," snapped the other. "We got her, didn't we?" he sneered. "And she's a pretty little bitch too…" Hunched over and barely supporting herself Faye glared vehemently at them, her fist clenched hard at her side, waiting for one to come in close enough.
But then we heard the sirens. Far off, but with no traffic on the streets coming in fast. I sprang forward, behind the men and out of the mouth of the alley, arms out to flag down the cops. The men cursed and ran off down the alley in the other direction, and just in time too, for when an ambulance whizzed by with it's lights and sirens blaring, I knew that I wouldn't have been in deep shit had our attackers known it wasn't the police.
I rushed back into the alley and found Faye where she'd been left. "Faye?" I called. "Are you okay?"
"My gun," she grunted, hand grabbing at the bricks as she tried to pull herself up.
"You look bad off," I pointed out as I fumbled in the shadows until my hand connected with eerily cold metal. Uncomfortable and disgusted with the weapon, I held it between my fingers and returned to Faye's side just in time to catch her as she toppled over. "We gotta get you to a hospital."
"No!" she barked, grabbing her gun out of my hands and, fumbling a lot, forced it into her coat pocket. "To easy to trace, just—" a wince cut her off, and she collapsed completely.
My knees nearly buckled against the new weight, but I somehow managed to get her out of the alley. But on the open street, at night in a bad neighborhood… I turned my head from left to right, not knowing what to do or where to go, for after all, she'd said no hospital.
I was terrified. Faye wasn't conscious to protect me, or to tell me where to go and how to get through this. With a calming breath, I remembered seeing a free clinic down the road somewhere, and forced myself to pick a direction and start walking. The whole time, I stared at my feet—right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot—because I knew if I didn't focus on something I'd spend the whole time worrying and wondering if those other two guys would pop out of the next alley I passed, or of the men knocked out on the ground back there would wake up and start chasing me.
Right foot, then left, I managed to force myself into some kind of trance and before I knew it there was red light on the sidewalk against my feet and I looked up to see a familiar sight.
East Tharsis Grand Hotel—my feet had somehow carried me there.
The glass doors slid open and Bill, the young 'bellboy' I'd gotten mad at before stepped out to take his shift. He looked up and did a double take when he saw Faye and I.
"What the hell?"
"Just get help!" I begged, hearing a catch in my voice. The trance was broken now, I was scared and exhausted and I wanted to lie down right there on the street but that just wasn't an option, so I wanted to cry.
Bill nodded, disappearing through the doors again. And moments later, there was Spike Spiegel. Shin stood behind him a little, looking pretty surprised, but Spike didn't seem shocked in the least. He didn't say anything, just arched his eyebrows, silently asking.
"I…I didn't know where else to take her," I tried. With desperation I managed to maintain eye contact, something deep inside telling me I ought to. I resituated Faye against my side, but my strength was giving out and Bill—standing behind his boss and Shin—looked nervous, probably able to tell I'd drop the woman any second.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't know what to do…so…I'm sorry."
Spike seemed to examine me for a moment, then heaved a heavy sigh and stepped forward. Involuntarily I took a matching step back, but before I could do anything else Spike reached out and easily plucked Faye out of my grasp, pulling her easily into his arms with a hand under her thighs and back.
He turned back towards the building without a backward glance at me, and I heard him order Shin to 'get the med kit' before the foyer's second doors shut behind them. Bill was holding the first set open for me, almost as if he were an actual bellboy instead of a costumed front for the hotel charade. He gave me a look which asked "are you coming or not?"
That was my last chance, you see.
I stared off down the empty street—I could have run off then and left Faye to the Syndicate, and she'd probably have been just as fine without me while I was fine and free. But I didn't run. My last chance that I didn't take. Instead, I nodded to the boy, and then stumbled inside the hotel.
To be continued
Ugh that was LONG! Sorry folks but once again it couldn't be helped. But oh well, I hope it compensates for the long wait.
I hope you were all paying attention, because this chapter is very important to the plot. It also is important to the environment of the story, and characterization and such and such.
I know you all wanted more Spike in this chapter, but there was some key stuff I had to get out of the way before he really comes in, and that's over now so every chapter from now on will have 100% of the doctor recommended dosage of Spike! WOO!!
Also, I noticed that the rated R fics don't appear on the just in lists anymore, and.. well that pisses me off! I got a lot of comments that people didn't know I updated, so here's what I'm gonna do: since the fic is rated R pretty much because of the word fuck, I figure that considering today's society and that there's other fics that use the f word with lower ratings, I'll lower the rating on this fic to pg 13. That way you can know when I update a lot easier. If you are particularly offended by the language…well…I'd like to say tough noogies, but if I get too many complaints I'll raise the rating again.
Thanks for reading, please review!
Some people think of the Cowboys as troublemaker vigilantes. They get angry at these scarred, bully-type 'ruffians' for making their way in the world without the struggle of the corporate ladder and all that shit. Perhaps those are the people who are jealous of a lifestyle that appears so free.
I was never one of those people, but I admit I did believe that whole allusion of outer space portrayed as an open range. Something I learned throughout everything is that Nothing is Free, not even opportunity.
~*~
"What's that?" Faye asked, eyeing my drink with distain.
"That's a coke," I said.
"A rum and coke?"
"No, just a coke."
Faye frowned. "And what's that?" she pointed to the glass next to it.
"That's an ice tea."
"A Long Island ice tea?"
"No, Faye, it's just an ice tea." I began to sip at my soda, but it wasn't easy to enjoy it while Faye was staring at me the way she did. The stare was a mixture of displeasure and disbelief, and I frankly didn't see what was so fascinating about my refreshments. "What?" I asked.
Faye continued to stare at me for a moment before wrinkling her nose, the four vodka shots she'd lined up momentarily forgotten. "Don't you ever drink?" she asked.
I wrinkled my nose as well. "You sound like Marla."
"It's a valid question."
I had to fight to suppress my annoyance, because you see, people are ~always~ asking me that. Vivika, don't you drink? Sometimes it seems like that's all I hear at parties. "It's not that I don't drink, socially, on occasion," I explained for the thousandth time to someone, first time to her. "I just think there are other things that taste better."
Faye smirked. "It's not about the taste as much as the effect…" she trailed off to down one, then another, and then the third tequila shot in professional succession. When her facial expression returned she shook her head and gave an airy laugh. Finally she turned back in her seat and began to stare at me again, looking me up and down. "So what ~do~ you do? I just couldn't picture you getting high…"
"Huh?" I gaped. "Where did that come from?"
"Well I'm just saying…" she paused to suck on a slice of lime, features contorting once more when the sourness hit her tongue. "I'm just saying—curious actually—what do you do when you need a break?"
"From what?"
Down went the last tequila.
"Everything."
The glass hit the table with a clang, and I sat quietly, trying to think of a response.
Faye began to suck more alcohol from a tiki-shaped mug through a twisty straw as she fiddled with the toothpick umbrella that came with it. While watching her, something in the back of my mind told me I should disapprove of this woman, while another part of me brought up the point that at least Faye looked a lot calmer now than when we left Spiegel and that hotel.
I did as I usually did when faced with inner conflictions, which is ignore both sides and wait for someone else to start talking.
And eventually Faye did start talking, although half the time I was pretty sure it was to herself.
"So middle class, Vivika. You're so middle class," she said to me, and I wondered how much alcohol was in one shot of tequila, let alone four. "In fact, it's abnormal—you know what kind of life you have?"
"Um…"
"It's like an after school special—are there other people like you?" she began to look at me as if I were a cartoon character, blinking constantly with both eyebrows arched way up. "I thought they all died fifty years ago…I'd like to meet these people—tell them I used to be one of their…their kind…that I'm still here.
I'm still here but I've changed…" a rattling sound began to emanate from her mug, revealing she was sucking ice now instead of whatever that drink had been.
"And it's surprisingly easy how it all goes to hell. That's the reason there's so many homeless—and fuck it if you don't want to live in a box you'll turn out like me."
"I will?" I couldn't quite follow.
"No not ~you~," Faye snapped. "I'm talking about the rest of those 'normal' types…Marsha, Marsha, Marsha…" she began to laugh with that creepy, bitter chuckle she so often uses.
"Shit. I've lost it."
"Lost what?" I was almost afraid to ask.
Faye picked up one of the empty glasses and gave the amber-colored ice a faint smile. "My mind…"
I wasn't sure if that comment required a respectful silence, but when the waiter arrived and set a few bottles down in front of us, I watched Faye stare at hers without any movement to claim it and couldn't help but ask, "Wasn't that the point?"
"The point…" Faye repeated quietly. She'd become stoic so quickly it caught me by surprise. She no longer stared at me, or at anything in particular except the condensation ring on the table next to the smoking ash tray. "…But… at least I'm still here."
That night was the first time I realized that there are three kinds of drunks in this world: the happy, the sad, and the philosophical. I know Faye wasn't the happy kind, but everyone seems to have their own ideas on the border between the other two.
"So tell me what went on back there," I prompted in a selfish attempt to change the subject.
Faye grunted. "You saw."
"Yeah, but I didn't get it," I pointed out. I waited a couple moments for her to say something, but when she did not, I fed her another starting point asking, "So where do you know Spike Spiegel from?"
With a loud, surrendering sigh Faye picked up the unopened bottle and began to twist it around in her hands in an absent minded sort of way. "Marla told you he was a Cowboy, don't you remember?"
"Yeaaah…" I blinked. The wheels in my head seemed to turn too slowly, but they were picking up speed at least a little at a time. "And you were a Cowgirl…so you know each other from that?" I blinked, running over what little I knew about bounty hunters. "So is it like a club or something…where you all know each other and stuff?"
Faye's jaw dropped open, her eyes widened, and she sat staring at me like that for at least a second and a half before she busted up laughing, loud enough to turn all the nearby heads at the bar.
"Oh, Vivika!" She breathed through the stitch in her side. "When you heard Young Man's Cowboy Association—you actually thought the Cowboys associated with one another!!" Finally the beer-tinted giggles began to subside, and she sat up straight with her elbows on the bar and a hand pressed on her lips. Her shoulders shook every few seconds and her eyes glistened in mirth while glancing in my direction. "Oh you poor kid!" was all she managed to say without starting the cackling fit over. "You don't know anything!"
I gave her my best grumpy look, but I think it only added to her humor. I admit I didn't know much at all about the Cowboys back then. Most of my information on them came from Marla's lawyer, Jerry.
~*~*~
"Have you ever even considered, Vivika, what would happen if there wasn't a bounty system?" he'd asked me one day when I popped in to pick up some papers for Marla to sign.
"No," I answered. "But I suppose that would mean more work for the ISSP, wouldn't it?"
"Oh don't kid youself, Viv," he sighed. "The ISSP can't do anything. They're all red tape, and investigation. They don't stop the criminals, they just have their forensics guys tell them who to set up a bounty for—nobody really wants to protect and serve anymore. People want quick cash. That's why there are more Cowboys than officers."
"What about the army?" I countered, frowning at his cynicism.
He shook his head. "So far, it's all politics," Jerry told me. "If we weren't under Syndicate rule, it'd be martial law, and at least the Syndicates have a knack for business."
I gaped at him, unable to believe it. "You're a lawyer and you like the Syndicate? You like it that we have to have these Cowboys running around everywhere?"
Jerry shook his head and put his hands on my shoulders. "I don't like it, it's just the system. It's the system, and it's as good as it's gonna get—unless someone's actually dumb enough to take on one of the biggies, like the Dragons or something (keep in mind that this conversation was long before Spike ever made a legend of himself, just after Jerry graduated from law school) but as a lawyer I'm forced to be realistic."
He smiled then, and let go of me, sending me out the door with a pat on the arm. "Go on home, Vivika. Just forget what I said. I like it better when you smile, and I can't seem to tell you anything happy."
Just another person telling me how lucky I was to be so naïve, but I was, wasn't I?
~*~*~*~
Faye had stopped laughing long before I snapped out of my memories, and by the time I was paying attention again she'd settled down into a kind of stupor.
The quiet soon made me uncomfortable, so I waved a hand in front of Faye's face, which seemed to surprise her for a second before she gained her ground. "So what are we going to do about this Syndicate thing?"
Faye groaned in disgust as I reminded her of our present predicament. "Uggh, I'm thinking," she began to tap on an empty shot glass. "I'm thinking; just give the inspiration a few minutes to go through my blood stream."
"Fine, fine," I said. "You're in charge, just please come up with something before the hangover kicks in."
"Ugghh…"
"And speaking of hangovers, don't you think we should call up Marla and tell her what happened?"
With her mouth firmly pressed into her sleeves, Faye gave a muffled shriek like a child being smothered by a pillow. She slammed her open palms onto the table so hard the glasses rattled. "I can't believe I'm back involved with this. It's her own fault anyway!"
"What? How?"
"Marla got us into this shit, don't you see?" She stared at me wide-eyed. "You don't see, do you?"
I shrugged.
"Oh Vivika," she leaned her open palm into her forehead, shaking her head pathetically in exasperation with me. "Did you really, really believe that someone can just waltz right into Syndicate headquarters like we did back there---and not have any ~consequences~!?"
I hunched my shoulders as if they could hide me. "What kind of consequences?"
"It's that chain reaction I was talking about," she grumbled. "Look at it this way: do you know how to drive something out into the open? Like…I dunno, a rabbit or something. Say you were looking for a rabbit in the bushes, and since you're obviously not going to want to crawl through the bushes on your hands and knees, you have to drive it out into the open—get it?"
"About the rabbit? Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with Marla."
Faye sighed. "Let me finish," she commanded, muttering some discontentment over the rabbit analogy under her breath. "Now you've got a rabbit in a bush—how would you drive it out?"
I bit my lip. "Um…hit the bush with a stick?"
She blinked. "Yeah, I guess that would work too…" Her own version probably involved guns or something. "So think of Marla as the stick."
"What?"
"Ughh.. this isn't working..." Faye grumbled the obvious, her face scrunching into a familiar sour look that I recognized from our poker lessons. She gave me that look whenever I asked what cards made up a flush, or something like that. "Look, I can't draw you a picture here… I know this stuff isn't your thing, but, just try to understand—keep an open mind or whatever."
"I can!" I insisted. "I'm not dumb, ya know."
"Ughhh.. fine, sorry, you're not dumb, just ignorant, and it's not like that's your fault…" As I debated whether or not to try glaring again, for it usually only served to amuse her, she began to explain.
"The Red Dragons are keeping their business profile low," she started. "They're pretty small right now, and the Gold Serpent Circle could probably wipe them out, if not for one thing."
"What is it?"
"Spike Spiegel," Faye replied, the telltale shadow of a smirk across her lips for one tiny moment. It had been almost like…a glimmer of pride.
I thought about what she'd said. Spike Spiegel could turn the tides in a Syndicate war? Who was this guy—Alexander the Great? He certainly hadn't looked the part from what I'd seen, just a man who needed a haircut, who liked to smoke and apparently push Faye's buttons as well. Of course, I'd only seen him for five minutes, but that image seemed like the polar opposite of the mental image I'd conjured up of the famed Dragon Slayer.
"He's that good?" I asked, hearing how meek and awe filled my own voice sounded. "It really isn't just hype?"
Faye gave a heavy sigh and leaned back in her chair. "When people are lost…they make heroes," her voice was low and quiet. "When the Red Dragon Syndicate began to crumble with that coup...all those agents who based their confidence on a strong leader, they got scared. They needed a hero, but they didn't have to make one. Spike was already there…and so was Vicious."
Her voice had gotten progressively harder and harder to hear, and I'd barely caught the last part. It seemed that a respectful silence was appropriate. I wanted to ask more about this Vicious or—as I referred to him in my head—'the sword guy' but it just didn't seem the right time.
"Anyway," Faye's tone became business-like as she came back to earth. "Vicious is dead, who knows who the Circle has turned to now, but the point is that the Dragons have Spike—and they need Spike. It's very important to the balance of power."
"It's political?" I wondered aloud.
Faye snorted. "No. Politics is words. The Syndicate is action."
"Oh.." My stomach had started to twist a little. I didn't like how complicated this was getting. Faye obviously hadn't even gotten around to her real point yet, and if that point needed a history lesson, it wouldn't be too straight forward.
"So you can see that the Circle's top priority isn't the Dragons, it isn't even Marla, it's Spike."
"Oh.." I repeated. "Is that why we got out of there so fast?"
Faye's eyebrow twitched. "You're missing the point," she said. "The Circle is using Marla to get to Spike."
I blinked. "Wha--? What does one have to do with the other!?"
Faye exhaled loudly. "Okay, lets try another one of those analogy things," she suggested. I groaned in protest, but she ignored me. "Do you know where to buy drugs, Vivika?"
"What? NO!"
"Well let's pretend for a moment that you want to buy some, okay?" The corners of her mouth had turned up into a smirk, and I nodded begrudgingly. "What's the first thing you'd do?"
"Go to a dealer?"
"Where's the dealer?"
"Oh…um…I suppose I'd ask around," I tried.
Faye's smile stayed, and she raised an eyebrow. "Ask who? Anyone?"
I laughed. "Well of course not! I'd have to ask somebody who'd know… and I couldn't ask someone who'd call the cops on me."
"You would have to be careful," Faye nodded. "But what if you were above the law? What if you had so much power that nobody would dare touch you unless they were big enough to match?"
It was as if someone had oiled one of the gears in my brain and as a result, the whole machine was turning at an alarming rate. "Someone like Marla!" I cried, starting to understand where Faye was going with this. "If Marla wanted to find something she wouldn't have to worry about who she asked, and people would tell her what she wanted cause she's in a position to give out great rewards…"
"Exactly," Faye acknowledged me solemnly. "The Circle is using Marla to find Spike, simply because she can."
I remained silent, taking all of that in. It sort of made sense. There Marla had come, wanting to get her curiosity satisfied, and the Circle could easily have used that to their advantage. Faye and I didn't know what had gone on in that meeting with Mr. Byres, but what was for sure was that Marla had come out of the office with enough information to begin her search for the Dragon Slayer.
"Still, there are a lot of holes in this," I pointed out, and Faye shrugged. "Like how come if the Circle is just as—well actually way, way more powerful than Marla—how come they can't find Spike themselves?"
"It's that chain reaction I was talking about," Faye explained. "When the Syndicate comes knocking on your door and asks you questions, you answer them, and if you're still alive then you keep your mouth shut. Any Syndicate is based on the principle of Shut the Hell Up."
"But Marla doesn't go around killing people…" I added. "So they wouldn't be afraid of her."
She nodded. "If the Syndicate is looking for something, you're supposed to keep it all secret so they can sneak up on their target and surprise 'em. But if a billionaire starts poking her nose around a bad neighborhood calling out names—well, people will talk, and nothing spreads faster than a rumor."
"And the chain reaction is…?"
Faye's fingers strummed on the table in obvious agitation. I watched her eyes flick hungrily towards a man at the bar who was smoking a cigarette, and her twitching fingers became more obvious. She shook her head as if to clear it before replying.
"The chain reaction is this: Marla asks someone a question about Spike, that person doesn't know anything but that person tells his friends that some big shot out of Tramalchio is up to something and those guys get curious too. People tell people. The grapevine gets so thin you can hear anything through it, and suddenly it's the talk of the underworld that somebody's after the Dragon Slayer."
"Like hitting at a bush with a stick," I mumbled, remembering the original analogy.
"Soon all the talk would be too dangerous, and Spike'll have to find a new hiding spot—"
"Which'll bring him out into the open long enough for the Circle to take care of it," I finished. "I think I get it now."
She shrugged.
"It's a just theory—it would at least explain why the circle let Marla go, alive and everything…" we exchanged glances then, both thinking the same thing. We hadn't talked to my boss since right before the shooting, and there was a chance that after all these hours full of Syndicate activity, she might not be alive anymore.
"OH FUCK!" Faye shouted with more disgust than worry. She slammed her hands on the table again, and left them there pressing down on the wood as she took many loud, deep breaths. When she finally recovered some composure, she started at the bottle of beer the waiter had brought. "Call her. Tell her to stay put wherever she is; she's got herself in a bad position, and things'll somehow manage to get worse if she dies."
No sooner had I turned my phone on, even before I could dial, it rang, and a moment later Marla Hearst's face appeared on the screen.
"Finally!" she cried. "Where the hell have you been!?"
"Look," I started. "I'm sorry I didn't pick you up but—"
"The car got shot up," Marla finished for me, waving her hand aggressively. "I know, I know, it's all over the news—'Marla Hearst's car attacked, no bodies found, expected kidnapping…' blah blah, it goes on like that, but what was I supposed to think? You know, Vivika, if you're involved in a near death experience it's considerate to let people KNOW that it was a NEAR experience and not an actual DEATH! Why the hell did you wait so long to check in?"
"Um…sorry?" I managed before my boss started talking again.
"Oh and then there's the thing that since it's my car everyone on Mars thinks I've been Shanghaied or something—not to mention Jerry's been calling me like every thirty seconds to check if there's any word from you, which is almost as often as your parents have been calling…"
"My parents? Oh hell…" with the hand that wasn't holding the phone I quickly slapped my forehead four or five times growling 'stupid stupid stupid' at myself with each hit. In all the…well, let's say "excitement", I'd forgotten that the billionaire's car being attacked would bound to get attention, and people would be worried.
"Marla! You didn't tell them I was dead or anything did you?"
"No I did not," she spat back indignantly. "I only told them what I knew, and that was that you WEREN'T ANSWERING YOUR FUCKING PHONE!!!!"
"I turned it off," I replied meekly, hoping Marla hadn't screamed at my mother and father.
"OFF? Why the hell—"
For once I managed to interrupt her. "Marla I have something important to tell you," I blurted out in a rush. "But I gotta call my parents first—"
"And Jerry," she added. "He's phone-stalking me too."
"—And Jerry, so I'll call you right back, just…just…I'll call you back!" And with that I hung up and sprang to my feet, nearly knocking my chair over. From the way my boss had shouted, Faye had heard pretty much everything even from the other side of the table.
"Maybe we should have called earlier…" she mused aloud as if she only half believed it herself. "She sounded worried."
"She sounded pissed," I replied. I wasn't listening to Faye as well as I should have, in hindsight, but I was busy searching my purse for my correspondence book.
Faye was sipping her beer sort of absently, shaking her head just a little and staring at nothing once more. "No… she was worried. She had that tone. I know that tone; I've heard that tone. She was worried."
I stopped shuffling through my handbag and stared at her quietly for a moment. Faye's words needed decoding, as per usual, but my brain was slow to compute. "My parents are gonna talk a lot, I might be a while. Do you want to call anyone first?" I offered, holding out my communicator.
Faye stared at the comm. as if she didn't know what it was, then glanced at me before moving back to the phone. She shook her head slowly. "No, that's fine."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "Don't you have to get yelled at by someone?"
Faye smiled. I can't help but wonder if she actually thought she looked happy, because she seemed to be trying hard enough, but it came out so depressing. "No. That's fine. Go make your phone call." She'd hardly finished her sentence before I rushed off towards the bathroom.
When I dialed my parent's number, it was busy. It took me three tries to get through, after which there was much crying and scolding and apologizing and the usual suggestions about changing careers. The conversation was long, loud, and although quite touching from my point of view, it's not important to the story so I'll skip it over.
After managing to end the conversation with my family on the claim of a low battery, I started to dial Jerry but figured I'd been away from the table far too long to be polite (even if it was for a good reason). When I reached Faye again, she didn't notice me until I'd reclaimed my chair in front of her and her head snapped up as if she were waking. "Make your call?" she asked.
I nodded. "I've got one more left, but we probably ought to get things straight with Marla first." I took out the comm.. device once more and let my thumb hover over the speed dial, frowning. "Think she'd get the rabbit scenario?"
Faye sighed. "Stop stalling, let's get it over with. We still need to find someplace to stay tonight."
"Right," I agreed, pressing the button to ring my boss. Once again she answered immediately.
"So?" I couldn't tell from the tiny screen where she was exactly, only that she sat with her chin in her hand and a bored expression. "What's this important thing you had to tell me?" Oh, how to word it? Marla, you're part of a theoretical yet elaborate Syndicate scheme to kill the Dragon Slayer—not right. Nothing was right.
"You're in danger," I tired uncertainly. Across the table, Faye was waving me on. "T-the Red Dragons are…they think you've allied yourself with the Circle—yeah…---and that's why they shot up the car. You have to stay hidden until Faye and I can get to you." My voice began to grow louder, confidence increasing as I realized that my lie—although large—was actually believable.
"Stay hidden?" my boss wrinkled her nose in disgust in disbelief. Low Profile isn't exactly a Hearst's specialty. "But I'm out in public right now—Fox Cross Pub, it's on Elm."
"Elm?" I looked to Faye, who shook her head. "We're pretty far from there and it's too late to rent a car right now. Is there someplace you can hide out until morning."
"Morning?" Marla winced and turned her face to look at something outside of the screen's view. "Well…" she finally sighed. "I suppose I could get the guy to buy me breakfast afterwards. I dunno where the place'll be though…"
"I'll call you once we've gotten the car and you can tell me then," I rushed her. "Just try to stay in doors—and sober." I hung up and turned off the comm. before she could protest, and then all I could do was hope she followed instructions.
With a relieved sigh I closed the comm. unit and shoved it back in my purse. "Well I'm glad that's over with for now. Dunno what we're gonna to in the morning though…" I'd hoped right then that Faye would pop in with a plan she'd concocted, but no luck. "So…are we going to find a hotel or something?"
At the mention of hotel, my mind wondered to the place we'd left. I pictured Spike Spiegel on the lobby stairs, lazily looking down at us with hidden emotions I couldn't guess at, and hardly noticed through my fear… and Faye, with her strange argument ringing in my ears…her knowledge of the Syndicate life…
Things happen, I realized. Things happen every day that are so dangerous and strange I probably couldn't comprehend them.
"What was that?" I asked as I suddenly heard Faye grumble something.
"I said 'sucks'."
"What sucks?"
She jerked her head towards the small stage at the front of the room near the far side of the bar. A pale, scrawny man with overly good posture was playing the saxophone with his elbows tucked amazingly far in.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "Don't you like jazz? Not a blues fan?"
"Hmph." Faye uncrossed her legs before recrossing with the other leg on top. "I like blues, jazz, and music for that matter—and that noise is not music," she scoffed, sneering at the sax player who took no notice of her. He kept watching the clock on the far wall as if he couldn't wait to leave.
I turned away from my stage to face forward again, shrugging. "Sounds fine to me."
Faye chuckled and rose from her seat. "Then you haven't heard a professional—if you had, that slop would offend your ears."
I left my seat too, dropping a few woolongs on the table before following Faye through the crowned bar towards the fire exit. My thoughts turned to Spike and his reputation. "You sure know a lot of professionals, Faye," I pointed out.
"Art is art," she grinned and winked. "I'm a professional too, you know, under a different title of course."
"Cowgirl?"
"Poker Alice," she smirked, leaning against the door.
As soon as it opened, we stepped out into the alleyway beside the bar. There was a shadowy strip between where the light from the bar door's bulb left off and the light from the street seeped in, On the edge of that strip Faye stopped me by extending an arm to block my path.
I opened my mouth to whisper something, but she looked deep in concentration, her other hand resting on her hip. Everything afterward was as sudden as the first attack. The arm which had blocked me suddenly shoved me down. I heard a click of a gun, a curse, and a *WHAP* as something from the dark knocked the gun out of Faye's hands.
It landed near me, and I rose to get it, but before I'd even stood completely something hit me in the back. I saw white for a split-second, then nothing at all.
I don't know how long I was out, but when I came to things didn't look so good from my angle (that angle being from the ground, kind of dizzy, with litter and asphalt bits sticking to the side of my face).
Two men were lying nearby, knocked out or maybe dead, but Faye appeared to be having trouble with three others. They'd backed her into a wall, which for a horror filled moment I thought meant she was done for, but she used the wall for leverage with her next high kick and another man went down.
That seemed to be all she had left though. Before the remaining two even touched her, she crumpled to the ground, holding her side.
"Just a woman, you said," grumbled one of the men, examining his fallen comrades.
"Shut up," snapped the other. "We got her, didn't we?" he sneered. "And she's a pretty little bitch too…" Hunched over and barely supporting herself Faye glared vehemently at them, her fist clenched hard at her side, waiting for one to come in close enough.
But then we heard the sirens. Far off, but with no traffic on the streets coming in fast. I sprang forward, behind the men and out of the mouth of the alley, arms out to flag down the cops. The men cursed and ran off down the alley in the other direction, and just in time too, for when an ambulance whizzed by with it's lights and sirens blaring, I knew that I wouldn't have been in deep shit had our attackers known it wasn't the police.
I rushed back into the alley and found Faye where she'd been left. "Faye?" I called. "Are you okay?"
"My gun," she grunted, hand grabbing at the bricks as she tried to pull herself up.
"You look bad off," I pointed out as I fumbled in the shadows until my hand connected with eerily cold metal. Uncomfortable and disgusted with the weapon, I held it between my fingers and returned to Faye's side just in time to catch her as she toppled over. "We gotta get you to a hospital."
"No!" she barked, grabbing her gun out of my hands and, fumbling a lot, forced it into her coat pocket. "To easy to trace, just—" a wince cut her off, and she collapsed completely.
My knees nearly buckled against the new weight, but I somehow managed to get her out of the alley. But on the open street, at night in a bad neighborhood… I turned my head from left to right, not knowing what to do or where to go, for after all, she'd said no hospital.
I was terrified. Faye wasn't conscious to protect me, or to tell me where to go and how to get through this. With a calming breath, I remembered seeing a free clinic down the road somewhere, and forced myself to pick a direction and start walking. The whole time, I stared at my feet—right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot—because I knew if I didn't focus on something I'd spend the whole time worrying and wondering if those other two guys would pop out of the next alley I passed, or of the men knocked out on the ground back there would wake up and start chasing me.
Right foot, then left, I managed to force myself into some kind of trance and before I knew it there was red light on the sidewalk against my feet and I looked up to see a familiar sight.
East Tharsis Grand Hotel—my feet had somehow carried me there.
The glass doors slid open and Bill, the young 'bellboy' I'd gotten mad at before stepped out to take his shift. He looked up and did a double take when he saw Faye and I.
"What the hell?"
"Just get help!" I begged, hearing a catch in my voice. The trance was broken now, I was scared and exhausted and I wanted to lie down right there on the street but that just wasn't an option, so I wanted to cry.
Bill nodded, disappearing through the doors again. And moments later, there was Spike Spiegel. Shin stood behind him a little, looking pretty surprised, but Spike didn't seem shocked in the least. He didn't say anything, just arched his eyebrows, silently asking.
"I…I didn't know where else to take her," I tried. With desperation I managed to maintain eye contact, something deep inside telling me I ought to. I resituated Faye against my side, but my strength was giving out and Bill—standing behind his boss and Shin—looked nervous, probably able to tell I'd drop the woman any second.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't know what to do…so…I'm sorry."
Spike seemed to examine me for a moment, then heaved a heavy sigh and stepped forward. Involuntarily I took a matching step back, but before I could do anything else Spike reached out and easily plucked Faye out of my grasp, pulling her easily into his arms with a hand under her thighs and back.
He turned back towards the building without a backward glance at me, and I heard him order Shin to 'get the med kit' before the foyer's second doors shut behind them. Bill was holding the first set open for me, almost as if he were an actual bellboy instead of a costumed front for the hotel charade. He gave me a look which asked "are you coming or not?"
That was my last chance, you see.
I stared off down the empty street—I could have run off then and left Faye to the Syndicate, and she'd probably have been just as fine without me while I was fine and free. But I didn't run. My last chance that I didn't take. Instead, I nodded to the boy, and then stumbled inside the hotel.
To be continued
Ugh that was LONG! Sorry folks but once again it couldn't be helped. But oh well, I hope it compensates for the long wait.
I hope you were all paying attention, because this chapter is very important to the plot. It also is important to the environment of the story, and characterization and such and such.
I know you all wanted more Spike in this chapter, but there was some key stuff I had to get out of the way before he really comes in, and that's over now so every chapter from now on will have 100% of the doctor recommended dosage of Spike! WOO!!
Also, I noticed that the rated R fics don't appear on the just in lists anymore, and.. well that pisses me off! I got a lot of comments that people didn't know I updated, so here's what I'm gonna do: since the fic is rated R pretty much because of the word fuck, I figure that considering today's society and that there's other fics that use the f word with lower ratings, I'll lower the rating on this fic to pg 13. That way you can know when I update a lot easier. If you are particularly offended by the language…well…I'd like to say tough noogies, but if I get too many complaints I'll raise the rating again.
Thanks for reading, please review!