Session Thirty

So this is what it felt like to wait on death. Leon felt strangely detached from the whole thing, like he was watching the events of someone else's life instead of living his own. His thoughts were scattered, jumping from one to another without spending much time on anything. He lay on his back on the couch in the suite, tossing his lighter back and forth from hand to hand. He wondered if Villanova left him the lighter on purpose. Maybe she didn't even know he had it. After all, it was Draugh who gave it to him. But why? He hadn't bothered to give him any cigarettes to go with it. He supposed he could set something in the room on fire with it, but he didn't see the point. It wouldn't help him escape and if someone didn't open his door and the fire spread, then he'd be lighting his own death sentence. He found out that they'd locked him in last night sometime after dinner. Protection for Villanova's plans, he guessed.

Which meant that setting anything on fire in the room now could be deadly. He still knew with a cold certainty that he wasn't going to give in to Villanova by killing himself, but the thought seemed void of emotion now, something he knew like he knew his own name.

He watched the arc of the lighter as it hit its highest point and tumbled back into his hand. His periphery had come back, like Draugh said it would. He was distantly satisfied that his hand-eye coordination hadn't suffered. In fact, it almost seemed as if he could see the lighter more clearly than before as it flashed through the air, but perhaps that was just the result of extreme boredom. He caught it in his right hand and lit it, watching the little flame flicker and waver. It was such a small thing, easily snuffed out by anything stronger than a breath. It wasn't even all that hot by itself. He'd often played with it, licking his fingers and running them through the fire. He flicked the lighter closed, extinguishing the flame.

He felt like the flame himself - small, ineffective, easily blown out. He hadn't heard anything from Jet yet or seen any further sign of Faye. He'd half-hoped she'd turn up in his room last night and tell him that Jet was waiting for them outside, but the night had passed without a visit from anyone. Leon had woken up this morning in the same place he'd fallen asleep, still dressed, spread-eagled on the bed where he realized he'd been waiting for a rescue.

He'd exhausted his own options of saving himself. Villanova had been nothing if not thorough in removing anything that he might use to his advantage from the room. There were no sharp objects, nothing heavy enough to be a weapon that was light enough to carry. Nothing he could use for rope except his sheets, but he was too far off the ground to attempt climbing down the outside of the tower. There were no vents big enough to crawl through and nothing metal that he could bend into a lock pick. The mirror in the bathroom and all the windows were shatter-proof so he couldn't break them to create a shard "knife." He couldn't do anything but wait.

Is this the same way his father felt, hiding from the claws of the Dragon, just waiting for them to close when he least expected it? Is this why he took the fight to the Dragon, instead of waiting for the trap to spring on him? Leon thought he understood what Spike had been feeling. Something empty and angry and dead. Something that demanded a fight. He needed the release of adrenaline, the satisfaction of his fist striking a target - anything to distract him from this cold emptiness.

Just then, he heard the lock turn on the door and it opened to reveal Draugh and a stern red-headed woman in a black security outfit with a red dragon embroidered on the left sleeve. Leon sat up.

Draugh walked into the room. "It's time," he said, but he didn't meet Leon's eye. He motioned for Leon to follow.

Leon got up. The dread he expected to feel settled cold and hard in the pit of his stomach. But his voice when he spoke was hard and steady. "I'm ready."

Draugh met his eye then and there was a new expression on his face. Respect, perhaps? Surprise? Leon wasn't sure what was going on behind the Dragon lieutenant's gray gaze. The red-headed woman stepped up with a pair of handcuffs, but Draugh waved a hand at her.

"That won't be necessary, Captain Servas. He'll follow."

Servas frowned and gave Leon a long look, but she put the handcuffs away and fell in behind Leon.

"Walk with me," Draugh said to Leon.

Leon fell into step behind Draugh, stepping up beside him after they walked through the door. Draugh and Servas didn't try to stop him. Leon snuck a glance at Draugh from under the fringe of his hair. Draugh looked stern, but there was a tightness to his mouth that hadn't been there before. Like he was doing something unpleasant. Draugh had been talkative before. Maybe he'd answer a few questions now.

"So, where are you taking me?" Leon asked. Some part of him was surprised that he sounded so calm.

"You don't need to know." Servas answered crisply.

Leon turned around and walked backwards for a minute, giving her his most charming grin. "Ah, Captain Servas. I don't believe we've been properly introduced." He stuck a hand out.

She gave him a disdainful look down her nose. "We don't need to be," she said. "I know who you are well enough. Now turn around."

Leon felt his heart sink but he kept a smile on his face until his back was to Servas again. Draugh pointedly kept looking ahead and didn't answer Leon. Leon fell silent for the rest of the walk. He followed Draugh into the elevator. Servas took up a position at the door, as if Leon might try to bolt when they reached their destination. She was on edge. By her rank of Captain, Leon assumed she must be in charge of security at the Dragon Tower. And with all three syndicates in the tower, and the possibility of him becoming a loose cannon should anything go wrong, her concern was understandable. Leon leaned casually against the back of the elevator and held Servas' gaze until she looked away. He smirked. She thought he was dangerous. Somehow that made him feel better even though it was far from true right now. Servas openly carried a gun and Leon had no doubt Draugh was armed. He wasn't about to start a fist fight with two armed Dragons.

The elevator traveled down to the sixth floor and came to a gentle stop. Leon was relieved that the travel didn't make him nauseous this time. Much as he hated to admit it, he was starting to get used to the cybernetic eye. The elevator doors opened and Servas stepped out, waiting until Draugh and Leon took the lead again. Leon resisted the urge to look over his shoulder at her and stuck his hands in his pockets instead. He tried to ignore the itch between his shoulder blades that let him know she was staring him down. Draugh led them through a plain door marked employees into what looked like service corridors. They wound their way through the corridors, heading towards the middle of the tower. The only people they passed looked like housekeepers or waiters and they all saluted at the sight of Draugh and kept walking without saying anything. Eventually, they reached an intersection of three hallways and Draugh took them to the right and to a black steel door. Leon noticed that this floor didn't seem to have the circular hole in the center like the eleventh floor did, but he hadn't been allowed to venture this far down when he tried to explore yesterday. Draugh opened the door with a key he pulled from his pocket, then motioned for Leon to step inside.

Leon walked into a room that reminded him of the holding cell back on the Bebop, but without bars. The room was small, Leon could walk its length in ten steps. The floor was inset slightly and there were four tracks set into the walls so that the floor could rise up along them. The ceiling was jointed, as if it opened up, and the lights in the room were on the wall instead of in the ceiling. So the room was an elevator of sorts then. But Leon didn't see any controls anywhere, so it wasn't a room one was meant to control from the inside. A prison.

Servas gave him an impatient shove in the back when he didn't immediately step farther into the room. Leon kept his balance and walked forward, straightening his jacket as he did so.

Servas followed him in. "Stand there," she said, pointing at a spot near the center of the room. The lights on the walls were bright, and aimed to point at the spot Servas told him to stand. Leon walked over and stood in the light.

"Arms up," Servas instructed.

Leon cast a glance at Draugh, who stood in the doorway. He thought he saw the older man nod faintly. He held his arms up. Servas patted him down, briefly but efficiently. She found his lighter and pulled it out of his pocket, sliding it into her own. Leon opened his mouth to protest, but she gave him such an intense glare he decided against it.

"Arms down," she said. "And hold still."

"Hold still?" Leon asked, but she didn't answer him. Instead, she pulled a small case out of a pouch at her belt and motioned Draugh into the room. He walked in and she handed him the case, opening it up as she did so. It was a makeup case. Leon looked at it, puzzled.

"Close your eyes," Servas said.

"What? I am not - "

Servas cut him off with a backhand so stiff he stumbled back a step, eyes watering. He straightened up, hands balled into fists, and gave Servas the darkest glare he could muster, the left side of his face stinging. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to fight back and he trembled with the effort of restraining himself. Fighting back would do him no good right now. He took a long, steady breath and exhaled.

"That's right, Mr. Spiegel. You will do as you are told and if you don't, then I will use force. Now, will you cooperate?"

Leon looked at her tight-lipped, but he didn't move.

"Good. Now close your eyes."

This time he did as he was told. A second later he felt a brush against his face and realized that Servas was putting makeup on him. Villanova's words came floating back to him. You've already got the height, build, and hair to be your father's twin. I can fix your age with makeup and some lighting.

Leon stood still until Servas finished and told him he could open his eyes. He wanted to know what she'd done to him, but she didn't offer him a mirror and he wasn't about to stoop so low as to ask. Instead, Servas neatly packed her case again, and put it back into the pouch on he belt. Then she looked back up at Leon.

"You are to remain here until further notice, Mr. Spiegel," she said, scowling like he was something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Then she spun on her heel to walk out of the room, but Draugh had moved so that he stood slightly behind her and she spun into him, bumping into him for a second.

"My apologies, Captain," Draugh said smoothly, giving her a little bow. Servas glared at him too as if he were the cause of all her troubles, then stalked out of the room without waiting on him to follow.

"You'll have to excuse the good Captain," Draugh said. "She's not usually this rude, but you can probably understand why she's so on edge."

"I see my reputation precedes me," Leon said dryly.

Draugh looked at him seriously. "It does, boy. And that's dangerous." His tone was sober.

Leon didn't know what to say to that. Draugh turned and began to walk away.

"Hey," Leon said just as Draugh reached the door. He hated the desperate tone his voice took. But some of his earlier numbness had worn off and he could feel his heart thud in his chest again so hard it hurt.

Draugh stopped and turned. "Yes?" he asked.

"You got a cigarette?" Leon asked. There were a million more things he wanted to say. Like what should he expect? And how were they going to kill him? And where was the Bebop? And what did Servas do to his face? But the only weakness his brain would allow him to admit was the desperate need for something to occupy his hands. If Draugh left him to his own devices in this room, Leon wasn't sure he could handle it.

Draugh paused for a moment. "Yeah," he said. "Here, kid." He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered it to Leon. Leon was about to pull one out, but Draugh waved the pack at him. "You'll want more than one," he said. Leon paused for a second, then shrugged and took the pack.

Draugh reached into his pocket again and pulled out Leon's silver lighter. He held it out. Leon's eyes widened slightly in admiration. Draugh had pick-pocketed Servas when he got in her way. Leon felt a slight tinge of respect for Draugh's obviously skilled fingers. But then he frowned and grabbed the lighter. He shouldn't feel any respect for the man. He was Dragon. And he was part of this crazy plot to kill him. But still - he'd given him his lighter twice. Did that mean something? And back in the temple, Draugh had told him that he wanted to recruit him, not kill him. Was that a hint? Or was Leon just desperately looking for anything that might mean he had a chance?

Leon realized Draugh was pulling the door closed behind him now. Just before it shut, he turned back toward the room. "Good luck, son," he said.

Then he shut the door firmly behind him. Leon blinked. Draugh had just called him son. Not kid. Not boy. Not Leon. Son. People didn't typically call their arch-nemesis son. Was Draugh feeling last regrets? Leon stared at the door for a long moment after Draugh left. The lights in the room dimmed until Leon only saw shadows. He shook his head. It was all wishful thinking, he told himself. He couldn't let himself get false hopes. The reality was he was stuck in this room and he was alone. And he would face death with his eyes open and his mind clear, damn it. There wasn't time to worry about whether or not Draugh meant anything by his words. Leon walked into the center of the room and turned so that his back was toward the door then pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He took a deep draw and felt the smoke fill his lungs, then exhaled and waited.

They've moved him. Ed's voice came quietly in Faye's ear.

"Ten-four, Ed," Faye murmured.

Faye and Malcolm were sitting in the back row of a set of stadium-style seating Villanova had erected in the ballroom for her demonstration this morning. The seats ringed the floor in three sides, with gaps between the raised tiers for the doors. The fourth side of the room, in front of the staircase leading to the upper level of the ballroom, was a raised platform with a throne-like chair on the center of it. Villanova sat in the throne, looking feral and relaxed, her elbow propped on the armrest, chin in hand as she surveyed the room. Her hair was swept back out of her face today, and she was impeccably dressed in a military uniform with a set of Dragon medals pinned to her lapel. What they'd been awarded to her for was anyone's guess. Draugh had been sitting in a second throne to her right, but he'd left the room about twenty minutes ago and had yet to return. Moving Leon, Faye guessed, since his movement coincided with Ed's intel.

Faye reached up and made sure her wig covered her ear for the millionth time that morning. She and Malcolm had thrown caution to the wind this morning and wore receivers in their ears so they could talk to each other, Ed and Jet. Faye knew that it would be impossible to carry out their mission without communication, but she still felt like the little piece of tech in her ear was screaming to be noticed.

"You keep doing that and you'll pull all the hair out of that wig," Malcolm muttered on her other side, so low his voice was just a breath against her ear. "Trust me." He reached over and tapped the pearl bracelet on Faye's right wrist. Malcolm had given it to her this morning to go with the pale blue dress she'd chosen for today. Another piece of Tiger tech, the bracelet was actually made of tiny disruptors that formed a small "force field" of undiscoverable energy around Faye, making her invisible to any sensors searching for tech. Malcolm wore a similar device in the guise of a pair of pearl cufflinks. If the Dragon tried to run an electronics scan on either of them, the receivers in their ears wouldn't show up. Faye still felt nervous every time a Dragon guard looked her way.

She leaned back toward Malcolm and whispered. "It's time."

"I heard," he mouthed. He tapped her leg with three fingers. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of sitting still and pretending like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Enough time to let Faye's next move look like happenstance instead of a planned coincidence. Security would keep a tight watch for anything out of the ordinary for the next several minutes. After all, they'd just moved Villanova's most valuable playing piece and they'd take steps to make sure Leon remained secure. She and Malcolm had to give security enough time to feel safe again so that they could get to where Leon was being held.

Faye glanced down at her watch. She'd picked a diamond studded wristwatch to go with her dress this morning. One that Jet had nearly killed her over when he found out how much it cost. Faye allowed herself a small smile. At least she could justify buying it now. The hands pointed to 11:00 am. Faye allowed herself a deep breath. Thirty minutes would put them at 11:30 and, from what Malcolm had said yesterday, Villanova's grand reveal would be at noon. That gave them only thirty minutes to execute their plan and get Leon out of the way before the reveal.

Faye turned her eyes back to the front of the room and focused again on the Dragon lieutenant who was giving everyone a quick history on the Dragon and a demonstration of Dragon's Eye. While most of the Tiger and Snake members looked bored as the lieutenant outlined the Dragon's past exploits (after all, any of them older than 30 probably already knew about them), they were significantly more interested in the Dragon's Eye demonstration Villanova had arranged. She had two men standing in the center of the room, inside the ring of seats occupied by the Syndicate members. Both were muscular men, shirtless and shoeless and wearing loose pants, like one might wear to practice martial arts. After describing the properties of both Dragon's Eye and Red Eye, the lieutenant would give each man a dose of their respective drug and then the two men would fight, showing off the qualities of the drug they were given.

Villanova watched him with an almost hungry expression, but she kept her posture relaxed. He eye roamed over the crowds and once or twice, Faye could swear she looked straight at her. The fact that she and Malcolm hadn't already been caught seemed like some sort of miracle. Faye was hoping that uncanny good luck held out. Just a little longer.

Faye glanced back down at her watch. 11:05. She sighed. It was going to be a long twenty-five minutes.

"Where is that, Ed?" Jet asked, peering over her shoulder at a room on Tomato's screen. He had picked her up from the hospital earlier today, knowing that there wouldn't be much time to try and get her after their escape from the Dragon Tower. A very frazzled nurse had handed Jet the discharge forms and barely waited for him to read them before handing Ed over. In the end, Jet promised to send money to replace the nursing station Ed took over. It's not that Ed had destroyed the nurse's computers, but she'd plugged them into Tomato and her strange search program and now the nurses couldn't get any of their data back on the computers. Ed promised it wasn't missing and, sure enough, they found all their records intact by accessing the system from another nursing station, but Jet was now the proud owner of three slightly used, former nurses computers and a rapidly shrinking bounty. Jet shook his head and looked back at Tomato. One thing at a time, Jet, he told himself. Get Leon first, then you can worry about the bank.

"Dragon Tower, sixth floor," Ed said, zooming in on the blueprints she had pulled up on a screen next to Tomato. "It's right under the ballroom, so you could lift it up and ka-pow!" She made a motion like a box opening. "Right through the floor!"

Jet took a closer look at the screen and the tiny room Ed had displayed. She'd re-hacked the Dragons surveillance system after moving all her new-found computers to the Bebop. He felt a surge of relief as he noticed Leon in the room. He was standing in the center of the room, hands by his sides, with his back to the camera. But even without seeing his face, Jet could sense the tightness in his spine and the desperation he must be feeling. Leon had been in Dragon custody for three days now without any contact from the Bebop. Even for a kid with as much confidence as Leon had, Jet knew that doubt would be grating on him. And, if he was anything like Spike, he'd be shoving the doubt deeper down behind a cold wall. Jet shook his head and looked around the room Leon was in. "It's an elevator," he said, noticing the gears and tracks set into the walls. He rubbed his chin. Villanova obviously didn't build the elevator for Leon specifically, but this certainly fit into her pattern for the dramatic.

"Yup," Ed murmured. "And it comes up…" she hit a few keys and the picture changed so that she and Jet were looking at the lower floor of the ballroom. They could see Faye and Malcolm in the back left corner of the room, sitting at the top of a set of raised bleacher-type seats that formed a semi-circle around the room, with gaps for the rooms' doors. It made the ballroom look horribly reminiscent of a coliseum. "Here." Ed pointed at the center of the ballroom, to the open space in the center of the bleachers where two men were squaring off for a fight. The elevator room would put whoever was in it right in the center of the gathered Syndicates, and only a few feet off the stage that had been erected for Villanova and Draugh.

"That doesn't look good," Jet said.

"You can say that again," Ed agreed. "Are we sure Faye Faye's plan is going to work?"

Jet gave Ed a sidelong look. "It sure as hell better work or we're screwed."

"Jeeettt, you're supposed to say stuff like 'It will all work out, Ed, you'll see.'" Ed crossed her arms and lowered her voice, glowering in an imitation of Jet.

"Hey, I don't look that angry all the time," Jet muttered. "But, you're right, Ed, it'll all work out. Besides, we do have some back up on this one."

"ISSP?" Ed asked.

"Yeah, ISSP," Jet said, crossing his fingers behind his back that they actually came. It's not that ISSP was bad at what they did, it was just that they were incredibly slow to do it. That's one of the reasons Jet left the force. They'd become so inundated with lazy officers and corrupt bureaucrats that by the time ISSP got themselves in gear and actually showed up to solve a problem, the problem had run off and caused at least ten more problems. Jet found that he could stop criminals way faster as an independent bounty hunter and he had more resources at hand than he did as an ISSP man. That, and nobody cared that he employed a hacker. But maybe, just maybe, Malcolm would be enough to sway ISSP to get themselves in gear and -

"Jet, Jet!" Ed was tugging on his sleeve. "There they go! It's time to get Leo back!" Ed crowed, pointing at the screen.

Jet looked down to see Faye stand up and stagger, putting a hand to her stomach. Beside her, Malcolm stood up, looking worried and gesturing for people to get out of the way. Jet smiled despite himself. "It's time, indeed, Ed."

I know this chapter contains a lot of thoughts and set-up, but I felt it necessary to set the stage for what comes next...get ready for some crazy shenanigans as we try to get everybody out of his adventure alive! Have a great week everybody ;)