Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Gotta Knock a Little Harder ❯ End of the Line ( Chapter 23 )

NOTE: Yes, I edited again. I didn't think I did justice to the altercation between Hughes and Kimbley. Then again, while it is better, I still don't think I did justice to it. *sigh* Maybe in rewrite, yes?

 

End of the Line

 

No matter how hard I run, I just can't get away; I try to do my best, but the devil gets in my way; Spent most of my lifetime downtown, sleepin' behind the wheel; 'till it all came down to kill or be killed -- Allman Brothers Band (Shades of Two Worlds)

 

Jet put his hands up, and noticed Hughes did the same. There were two of them pointing rifles at them, and he knew he could take them on his own easy enough. But the third one held a handgun to Sheska's head. Unlike his partner, Jet wasn't willing to take a chance with someone else's life.

 

Their captors got in behind them, and marched them to the clearing, where Kimbley was waiting. He was leaned casually against the nose of the Hammerhead, and looking insufferably proud of himself, while a small bonfire burned brightly nearby. Jet couldn't help but think that Kimbley looked like the Devil himself in that light and he clenched his jaw tight.

 

Herded, he thought. Just like goddamn cattle. And that pissed him off more than anything.

 

He and Hughes were searched. They were both relieved of their handguns, but they didn't find anything else on Hughes. Both men just glared at Kimbley, and said nothing.

 

The Alchemist sauntered up to Hughes and just smiled. “Take off your jacket,” he said. When Hughes didn't comply, his captor slammed the butt of his rifle hard into his kidneys, sending him crashing to the ground and busting his glasses. Jet instinctively made a move to him, but suddenly found himself facing down the business end of two rifles, and hearing the ominous click of a hammer being pulled back on the handgun trained on Sheska. He froze.

 

“You've got me, Kimbley,” Jet said. “What's the point of torturing the other two?”

 

“Because I can,” Kimbley said. He knelt down in front of Hughes as the other man struggled to sit up. Jet noticed however, that he remained just out of Hughes' reach.

 

As he got to his knees, Jet asked, “You okay?” Hughes glanced at him, and nodded.

 

Kimbley acted like he was casually examining his fingernails, as he held his hand up, exposing the transmutation circle tattooed in the palm. “I haven't got all night, Hughes,” he said. The message was clear. Hughes slipped off his jacket, and tossed it at Kimbley.

 

The man lifted it, and reached up into the sleeve. He came out with a throwing knife, and held it up to catch the light of the fire. His eyes landed on the captor who was supposed to search Hughes, and the look was chilling. He hurled the knife, and it whistled just past the man's head, to stick into the trunk of a tree. The message was clear, Screw up again, and your life is forfeit.

 

In the distance, Jet heard the low rumble of thunder, and looked up. The clouds had gotten thicker. It would be raining soon. He briefly wondered if it would have any effect on Kimbley's abilities.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hughes sit back on his heels. The man looked defeated. But Jet knew better, as he caught a slight movement of his hand down by his boot. He caught the look out of the corner of Hughes' eye, and knew. They were both cut from the same cloth, they understood each other perfectly.

 

Kimbley got to his feet, and closed in on Hughes. He grabbed him up by the front of his shirt. “You bore me,” he said.

 

In an instant, everything started happening at once. Hughes swung his fist around, and jabbed the small throwing knife he'd hidden in his boot into Kimbley's ribs; it was enough to startle the man into letting go. Jet slammed a cybernetic elbow into the gut of the man holding the rifle on him, relieved him of that weapon, and swung the butt hard into his head, knocking him out. He quickly flipped it over, primed the chamber, and trained it on the other rifle-carrier. He heard an agonized grunt, and glanced over to see the man who had held the handgun to Sheska's head, collapse to his knees, while holding his crotch. She quickly scooped up the dropped pistol, and pointed it at him.

 

Jet gestured at the other two men to join their unconscious buddy in a small group, and said to Sheska, “Keep that gun on them. If any of them so much as twitches an eyelash, shoot him.” She nodded, and held the gun trained on them with both hands. It rattled in her shaking hands, and Jet was certain that if one of them did twitch, she would shoot. Not because she was wanting to keep control of the situation, but because she was so damn scared. He turned his attention on Kimbley and Hughes.

 

He held the rifle up, and took aim. Unfortunately he couldn't get a clear shot, as Kimbley and Hughes were locked in combat. He watched through the sight, and waited for his opportunity.

 

Hughes was fast and fluid; making sure Kimbley never quite got his hands on him. He reminded Jet of how Spike fought. Except while Spike was like a cat playing with its prey before the final blow, Hughes was more efficient. He wanted this over and done with quickly. Jet would be more than happy to help him out in that, if the man would just get the hell out of his way for a second.

 

A loud retort from behind him startled him, and he spun, ready to fire. Three goons were huddled together, eyes wide in fear… of Sheska. No one was bleeding, but Jet did get a whiff of urine. Sheska glanced over at him and shrugged. “He moved.”

 

“Good job” he said, stunned. The scuffle between Kimbley and Hughes had changed tone, as Jet heard the sound of a body hitting the ground.

 

Hughes was flat on his back, Kimbley clenching his shirtfront with one hand, and his other a fist, slamming into Hughes' jaw. He dropped the unconscious man, and smirked. The tattoos started to glow as he brought them down toward the man beneath him. Jet only had an instant to react. He took aim, and fired.

 

The bullet hit Kimbley's shoulder, throwing him back, and off Hughes. But the man was not slowing down. He got immediately to his knees, and crawled toward Hughes again. There was another retort; louder than the gun Sheska had, and from the other side of the Hammerhead. The larger caliber hit Kimbley in the side, and threw him back further as he burst into flames.

 

As Jet ran up to Hughes, two men stepped from behind the craft. One of them a lanky form with an unruly mop of dark hair; the other a cool, downright arrogant Officer. Jet was never so happy to see either of them in his life. “Spike!”

 

Spike cocked a brow and smiled. But his attention was on Mustang. “Jeeze, did you have to turn him into a human torch?”

 

“I had to do something, you were too slow.”

 

Jet shook his head, and turned his attention on Hughes. The other man was regaining consciousness, but Jet wasn't sure how badly he was injured.

 

“Too slow?” Spike said. “Bullshit! I'm the one who hit him first, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to torch him without bar-b-queing your buddy here.”

 

Hughes rubbed his jaw, and shook his head as Jet helped him to sit up.

 

“What's the damage?” Jet asked.

 

Hughes smiled a little and said, “I don't think I'm going to pee right for a week, but otherwise fine.” He nodded toward the two men who were still arguing. “Looks like the cavalry showed up just in time.”

 

Jet helped him to his feet, and said, “Let's go rescue those three from Sheska.”

 

Hughes gave him a puzzled look, and then glanced over at the girl holding down three large goons. He laughed.

 

“What about Kimbley?” Jet asked, as he and Hughes tied up the three henchmen.

 

The flames had gone out as quickly as they'd started, and Kimbley was nothing more than a singed ball of flesh curled up on the ground.

 

“He'll live,” Mustang said. “But he won't be blowing anyone up for awhile.”

 

Hughes nodded at the truck that had sat nearby, partially hidden in the trees. “We need to do something about that.”

 

Mustang smirked and snapped his fingers. At the same moment, thunder crashed, and the sky opened up to dump buckets of rain down on them. Nothing happened. The man's mask of arrogance fell away for a moment. His brows knitted and his jaw set. His eyes rolled up to the sky with a look that said he took the sudden change in the weather very personally.

 

Spike snorted. “Real great weapon you got there, Mustang.” He walked up to the front of the truck, and took aim at the radiator. The gun just clicked. He tried to get it unjammed, and took aim again. Once more, it only clicked. He clamped his jaw and his eye twitched as he slogged back to Mustang in the downpour, and threw the gun to him. “You're girlfriend's gun is a piece of shit.”

 

Mustang caught the gun deftly, and shoved it in his coat pocket. “So what do you suggest?”

 

Jet rolled his eyes, and said, “I'll take care of it. You two get back to the Bebop.” He faced Hughes and said, “It's going to be a tight fit in the back, but I carried Al in there, so I think you and Sheska should fit.”

 

Sheska blushed, and Hughes stammered and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Uh, well, see… I'm married and I have a daughter, Elysia—“

 

“Relax Maes, he's not setting you up with a date,” Mustang said. The laughter in his voice was barely suppressed. Jet briefly wondered if the man was bi-polar, the way he shifted moods so quickly.

 

He and Spike started to head off to the other craft, but he stopped, looked back at Jet and said, “Mr. Black, a word of advice.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Whatever you do, do not, under any circumstances, ask that man about his wife and daughter.”

 

“Hey!” Hughes said. Mustang just smiled and waved, and followed Spike back to the other craft.

 

Hughes and Sheska managed to get settled in the back of the Hammerhead, but they couldn't strap in. There was only one set. As Jet got the craft into the air, he glanced in the mirror, and noticed that Sheska had managed to wedge herself as far to one side as possible, and Hughes appeared a tad bit uncomfortable. It's going to be an interesting trip back, he thought with a low chuckle.

 

As he rose above the trees, he saw that Spike was in McKenna's craft, rather than the Swordfish. He flipped the radio on and said, “I'm going to disable the truck. I'll catch up.”

 

“Why don't you use the harpoon, Jet?” Spike said.

 

Jet caught the bitter sarcasm. “The Swordfish still isn't up and running, huh?”

 

All he caught was incoherent grumbling, but he was certain that his ancestry was being cursed all the way back to the beginning of the Black family line. He just chuckled.

[1.1.1.1]

 

Pinako sat on one corner of the chair that she was sharing with Winrey. She calmly smoked her pipe, and observed the people around her. Her granddaughter was leaned forward, with her elbow propped on her knee, and her chin resting in her hand. She was slightly fidgety; wanting to play around with the computer sitting on the table in front of her, but their guards weren't having it. Al was sitting on the floor, next to the couch, silent and still. She wondered if he'd fallen asleep, or was just deep in thought. Ed was sitting on the end of the couch, stewing and fidgeting almost as much as Winrey, except for his own reasons. McKenna was curled up on the rest of the couch, dozing.

 

Pinako wondered where the tattoos on her face, and the branding scar on her thigh had come from, and what had caused the long bangs framing her face to go white. The girl's face didn't show her increasing age like it would for the rest of human kind, but Pinako was certain a lot more time had passed for her, than had for the rest of them. She could see the girl was exhausted, but fighting it every step of the way. There was an urgency about her, but she wasn't talking.

 

With a start, she noticed that McKenna was staring at her. She watched as the girl's eyes slid over to the table, where the computer and the forgotten dish of red stones set. When her eyes came back, Pinako barely nodded.

 

A moment later, McKenna curled up, and started to moan. Pinako got to her feet, as Hawkeye spun to see what the problem was. While the Lieutenant looked down at McKenna, Pinako lost her footing behind her, and hit the table. In the process, she upset the dish of red stones and knocked them to the floor.

 

Hawkeye turned back around, and knelt down next to the old woman, and started picking up the stones. “You go see to McKenna, I'll get this.” Pinako nodded.

 

She helped McKenna sit up, gripping her hand as she did so. McKenna groaned, and let go of Pinako's hand to hold her stomach. “I think I might be sick.”

 

Armstrong had entered the lounge at that moment, and Pinako caught his eye. “Get her some water, Major. She's not feeling too well.”

 

Armstrong nodded, and headed for the galley. Just as he returned with the water, McKenna's hand shot up to cover her mouth. She moaned again. Armstrong handed Pinako the water, just about the time Hawkeye picked up the last of the stones and got to her feet.

 

The old woman handed the water to McKenna, and she brought the glass up to her lips. Hawkeye said, “Wait!”

 

McKenna gulped down the water.

 

Hawkeye shoved past Pinako, and grabbed McKenna by her shoulders. “Dammit!”

 

McKenna smiled. Confusion was written on everyone's face, except for Hawkeye's and Pinako's.

 

The Lieutenant turned on Pinako, and said, “How many did she take?”

 

“I would guess about six or eight.”

 

Ed looked from one woman to the other in confusion. Then dawn struck. His eyes went wide and the blood drained from his face. “You gave her the stones?” he whispered.

 

McKenna faced Ed and nodded. Pinako could see in the girl's eyes that they were starting to take effect. “There's no time, Ed,” McKenna said. Then her eyes rolled up and she collapsed to the floor.

 

“Edward, get out of the way,” Pinako said. “Major, help me get her to the couch, and someone find something for me to put in her mouth, I don't want her biting off her tongue.”

 

[2.2.2.2]

 

Jet wasn't too far behind Spike, as they zoomed back to the Bebop. He could hear his partner and Mustang still arguing, but it didn't sound too serious. He could feel the tension starting to leave him, finally.

 

It was a little iffy, earlier, when they took off, and he thought Sheska was going to jump out of the Hammerhead one way or another. But after a bit, she'd calmed down. At least she wasn't planning on doing any skydiving without a chute at this point. He took the flight easy, because neither of his passengers were strapped in, and because it would be less frightening for the girl. Spike didn't come right out and say why, but he kept close.

 

Conversation between Jet and Hughes was easy. He genuinely liked the man. He obviously seemed quite protective of Sheska. Once Jet found out the reason he brought her along, he understood.

 

That girl is the bargaining chip, Jet realized. Not only did she have the information they needed to get back home, she would also collect the information on their technology, as payment. The girl had an incredible mind. Jet had to respect that, and he envied it a little as well.

 

Hughes leaned forward, and tapped Jet on the shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts. “How well does that pick up?” he asked, nodding toward the radio.

 

“I can hear you just fine, Hughes,” Mustang said.

 

“Then now might be a good time to compare notes,” Hughes said.

 

“Agreed.”

 

“We have more trouble than just a handful of rogue soldiers, Roy.”

 

“Yes, I got that impression when we saw Kimbley there,” Mustang said. “Where was Greed?”

 

“Good question,” Hughes said. “I think he was planning on playing both ends against the middle.”

 

“You mean capture the Hammerhead, and sell to the highest bidder?” Jet asked.

 

“Exactly,” Mustang said. “Greed probably figured Kimbley and a few men could procure the ship, while he lined up the buyers.”

 

“Kimbley had his own agenda, Roy.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“I have it on good authority that he's been seen with Archer.”

 

There was stunned silence on the other end. Jet could almost see the brow climb up Mustang's forehead at that.

 

“And what does Archer know?” Mustang finally asked.

 

“A lot more than I first thought,” Hughes said. “He had us tailed.”

 

“By Kimbley?”

 

“No. Kimbley actually beat us there.”

 

“So Kimbley was playing both ends against the middle?”

 

“That would be my guess.”

 

Jet had been watching the dark landscape slip past as the two men talked. There wasn't much to see, but he wasn't looking for interesting land formations, either. He caught sight of a glow on the horizon, and aimed the Hammerhead toward it.

 

“Jet, what the hell are you doing?” Spike said.

 

“Take a look at 3 o'clock.”

 

He saw the other craft bank off in the direction he said. They both flew high, and toward the lights. As they came in close, Jet saw that it was a small convoy of military trucks.

 

“Looks like they might be headed for Risembul,” Mustang said.

 

“How long before they get there?” Hughes asked.

 

“Best guess, two days. If we're lucky,” Mustang said.

 

“Dammit,” Spike said. “We can't even slow them down. No weapons.”

 

“I suggest we get our asses back to the Bebop quick, then,” Jet said. He glanced into the mirror and said, “You two might want to hold on.”