Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Suicide Is Stainless ❯ Handbags and Gladrags ( Chapter 2 )

2) Handbags and Gladrags.

It was him. His skin was hung slightly looser about bones, and his once pitch hair had faded into an indifferent grey, but it was him.

"I'll be damned." Spike muttered to himself.

As Spike stared into the metallic blue eyes of the electronic likeness, faint memories began to emerge. There were no specific images, nor chains of events, but rather sounds and sensations. The smell of stale, smoke filled air, the taste of warm, flat beer, and the excited murmurings of an anticipant crowd were recalled from the recesses of his mind by the sight of Steele's battle hardened features. The deeper he stared into the fighter's entrancingly frigid eyes that sense of anticipation that he too had once felt, began to overtake him once more.

"You know this guy?"

Spike was pulled from his trance by Faye's inquisitive strains. She was now sitting up in her chair and leaning towards the television. Her emerald green eyes were fixed upon the image of Steele, as Spike's had been only seconds earlier.

Leaning away from the TV set, and readopting his usual nonchalant expression, Spike replied,

"You could say that."

"So, who is he then?" Faye asked, peering briefly at Spike over the flat, holographic image.

"Stainless Steele." Spike said, trying to sound indifferent.

Faye furrowed her brow. She knew that Spike was trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible, but her curiosity was not going to allow that to happen.

"Yeah, I know that." she said, indignantly. "What I want to know is why you zoned out when his picture came up."

"I didn't zone out, Faye." Spike retorted. "I was just interested to see what they had to say about Steele from a professional stand point."

Faye huffed sceptically.

"Since when were you professional?"

"Since I took up professional babysitting." Spike said, sending a particularly piercing glare Faye's way.

"Ha ha." Faye drawled. "Listened Spike. I've spent the last three years of my life - the only ones I can remember - sitting at poker tables. I can tell what colour underwear a guy's wearing by the way he blinks his eyelids. You can't fool me. Now, what is it with you and this Steele guy?"

Spike loosened his expression, not wanting to give Faye the impression that she was getting to him. There was a short pause, which was followed by Spike's enigmatic reply.

"Blue."

Faye cocked an eyebrow quizzically.

"What?" she asked.

"Blue." Spike repeated. " The colour of my underwear."

Faye growled, and threw herself back into the couch. Folding her arms, she glared angrily into Spike's solemn eyes.

"Fine." she grumbled. "You be Mr Mysterious if you want. As if your life could possibly be that interesting."

"Yeah, as if." Spike muttered, ironically.

He then reached into his jacket and extracted a fresh cigarette. A second foray into his garment yielded a cigarette lighter, which Spike promptly lit and raised towards the beckoning tip of the cigarette.

A series of heavy footfalls reverberated from beyond the circular door behind Spike, causing him to look up alertly from the elegant dancing of the flame atop the lighter. His ears pricked up, and his muscles tensed as his body automatically prepared itself for action.

"You two aren't fighting again, are you?" Jet said as he ducked under the edge of the doorframe.

Spike sighed wearily and relaxed back in his chair. He never could get used to sitting with his back to an open door.

"I'd hate to think that our nice little nuclear family was on the rocks." Jet continued as he passed by Spike.

He then spied the discarded cigarette that was smouldering away forlornly between Spike's feet.

"Damn it, Spike!" he shouted as he reached over with his leg and drove a boot down upon the cigarette, putting it out of its misery. "Are trying to burn down the ship?"

"Yeah." Spike replied, sarcastically. "After that, I thought I might mug Ed and spit roast Ein."

Spike's backhanded retort was met with an anxious canine whine, to which he paid no heed.

"You know, you're this close to being tossed headlong into the sea, Spike." Jet informed his fellow bounty hunter, holding his right thumb and index finger about an inch apart as he did.

"I'll hold the airlock open for you." Faye offered, still baring a look of chagrin. "He's been in a weird mood ever since we've been stuck on Earth."

"He's been bugging you too, huh?" Jet enquired rhetorically.

"Hey guys, I'm right here." Spike protested quietly of his being spoken of in the third person.

"You can say that again." Faye replied to Jet, and ignored Spike. "One minute he's almost ready to break my neck over a chair, the next he's all cagey and secretive."

Jet's expression turned to one that denoted a distinct lack of surprise.

"Who, Spike?" he said. "Cagey and secretive? You don't say."

"Yeah." Faye continued. "He wouldn't even tell me about some bounty head he recognised on the TV."

"Bounty head?" Jet said, and then glanced hopefully down at the television screen.

However, the show had already ended since the three had been bantering, and the credits were now rolling by in its place. Jet grumbled disappointedly, then looked back up at Faye.

"So, who was he?" he asked.

"Some kind of fighter." she replied. "He's got some stupid name. It was Galvanised Steele, or something like that."

"That's Stainless Steele." Spike corrected Faye. "And he's a pit fighter."

"Ah ha!" Faye exclaimed, leaping out of her chair. "So you do know him."

Spike paused for a moment, realising how his outburst must have sounded. Delicately he removed his latest cigarette from his mouth, blew out of fine jet of smoke, and replied,

"Hey, I'm just repeating what I heard on TV. Anyway, you heard what they said. The guy's a `collector's item'. Every bounty hunter in the system has heard of him."

Faye scowled as her ploy to extract information from Spike was foiled. Jet, in contrast, smiled knowingly.

"Spike," he said. "You are so full of shit."

At this Spike pouted slightly, causing his freshly replaced cigarette to point straight toward the ceiling, and slouched down into his chair. He knew he was about to be exposed.

"That's the guy that you used to go and watch fight back on Mars, isn't it?" Jet said.

Spike didn't answer.

"You used to go and watch him fight?" Faye asked. "Then what the hell was all the fuss about? I thought that it was gonna be something interesting, like that he's you're your father, or an old friend, or at least your old mailman. You know, sometimes I think you do these things just to annoy me."

"Oh, there's more to it than that." said Jet, looking down at Spike.

Spike avoided eye contact with Jet, and slouched yet further into his chair.

"Do you want to tell her, or should I?" Jet asked of him.

His question was met with a frigid silence.

"Okay then." Jet said, and then turned to Faye and continued. "Back when Spike lived on Mars, he used to turn out every week for the pit fights that the local syndicate chapters would run out of warehouses and basements in the cities. Apparently there wasn't much else for a kid to do back then except watch two guys beat each other to a bloody pulp in a dark room. Anyway, there was one particular fighter that Spike had had a soft spot for ever since he was a kid."

"Stainless Steele." Faye interjected.

"Got it in one." said Jet.

Faye frowned, and looked straight at Spike.

"So this guy was your childhood hero?" she asked. "That's it? That's the big secret? Damn it Spike, you're past really must have been dull if that's the best you can do for a secret."

Spike's expression softened slightly. This undesired unveiling of a fragment of his past had come with some consolation in that it had irritated Faye. Shrugging gently, he replied,

"Sorry to disappoint you."

Faye sighed in frustration, and then turned back to Jet.

"So how did you manage to get this information out of him anyway?" she enquired. "Usually, trying to get Spike to answer questions about his past is like trying to get blood from a stone that doesn't have a donor card."

Jet glanced at Spike and smirked mischievously.

"Well, it's funny you should ask." he said.

Spike readopted his pout, and sank back down into the chair.

"One evening, old Spiko here managed to get himself particularly wasted." Jet continued. "After a few glasses of Cap'n Jacob's 2040 special reserve, he couldn't keep his mouth shut."

Faye looked down at Spike. Slowly, a gratified smile began to crawl across her face.

"O-o-oh, so that's what this is about." she purred. "You can't hold your liquor, can you Spike?"

Spike grunted disdainfully.

"I can hold my liquor just fine." he grumbled. "The whisky was bad. Jet insisted that we go to some dive on Ganymede that he used to frequent back in his ISSP days. If you ask me, he should have arrested the guy back then for bartender malpractice."

"Hey, Rodriguez has never served a bad whisky in his life." Jet protested.

"Whatever you say, Jet." Muttered Spike.

"Yeah, you know this is nice and all, but are we actually going to go after this Steele guy or not?" Faye asked bringing an end to Jet and Spike's bickering.

Jet looked up and began to stroke his beard pensively.

"I don't see why not." he said after some brief cogitation. "How `bout it, Spike? It'd go some way to making up for the mess you made of the last pick-up."

Spike glanced up at Jet, then hoisted both feet up and plopped them down lazily on the table.

"I don't really feel up to it." he replied. "Maybe we should wait for the next one to come along."

"What?" Faye barked. "Just a minute ago you couldn't wait to get off this `mud ball'. You're not trying to protect Steele, are you?"

"No, I'm not trying to protect Steele." Spike echoed. "I just think we should go for something a little less risky, that's all."

Faye's eyes widened at this.

"Since when were you worried about taking risks?" she said. "For God's sake Spike, how hard could it be? It's only a half-million reward."

"You shouldn't take Stainless so lightly." Spike informed her. "He beats people to death with his bare hands for a living."

"Oh, so it's `Stainless' now, is it?" said Faye. "Tell me, Spike. If he's so dangerous, then why the small bounty?"

Jet chose this moment to enter the fray.

"Actually, he's right, Faye." he confided. "Pit fighter bounties may not look like much, but that's only because all they do is kill other pit fighters. They're still as dangerous as hell."

Faye folded her arms and complained,

"So I suppose you're gonna want to back out as well."

"Now, I didn't say that." Jet replied. "We're going after Steele, but we are going to have to be careful."

Spike clasped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

"Well, good luck with that." he said.

"Good luck nothing." Jet responded. "You're going as well."

Spike sighed deeply at this, and cast a dark look up at his partner.

"I already said I didn't feel up to it." he grumbled. "Besides, you and Faye are grown-ups. You can look after yourselves."

"Nothin' doin', Spike." Jet replied. "No one on this ship knows more about Steele than you do. You're the ideal choice to spearhead this mission. "

"Yeah, Spike." Faye concurred. "Believe it or not, we may actually need you on this one."

Spike frowned scornfully, and then closed his eyes once more.

"You can say what you like," he said. "But you can't make me go out on this one. You might own the Bebop, Jet, but you're not my captain."

Jet's thick eyebrows reared up.

"Oh is that right?" he said. "Well I might not be you're captain, but I am the one who puts a roof over your head and repairs your ship. And I don't even charge rent."

"What's your point?" Spike enquired impatiently.

"My point is that unless you want to hitchhike after your next bounty head, I'd suggest you start being a little more cooperative." Jet replied.

This was met by another cold silence. Spike's facial expression remained unchanged as he mulled over Jet's gentle persuasion. After several seconds of contemplation, he reached his conclusion.

"Fine." he griped, deciding that it was better to take up the chase than to be put off the ship. "But I'd like to know how you intend to find him. So far all we know is that he was last seen in Eastern Europe, so unless you have a really detailed road map, we're stuck."

Jet adopted a pensive expression, denoting the fact that Spike had a valid point. At that moment a thick tangle of bright red hair burst up from behind the couch, with the rest of Ed's gangly body not far behind. With computer in hand, and her goggles hung about her neck, she performed a single pirouette and then thrust the console out towards the surprised throng of bounty hunters.

"Information is served." she announced in a feigned haughty tone.

Spike moaned softly.

"Et tu, Ed?" he mumbled.

"Nice going, Ed." Jet smiled, and then threw a stern glance Spike's way. "At least someone around here is doing their job."

Spike didn't rise to the bait.

"So, what have you got Ed?" Faye enquired eagerly.

Upon hearing this question, Edward raised the screen of her computer and pulled the pin of her goggles from the port in its side. The removal of the hardware caused the screen to be activated, and a glowing display packed with potentially profitable information leapt to attention with an eager fizz. It comprised a single poorly focused picture of two pit fighters plying their trade, flanked by a column of text that was prominently headed by the title `War In Warsaw'.

Without allowing her colleagues a chance to assimilate the information for themselves, Faye leapt knees first onto the couch, moved her face to within six inches of the screen, and began to read out loud the most relevant information.

"Tonight's big fight will be staged live at the Dudek warehouse complex in the ruins of Old Warsaw. . ." she read, trailing off into a mumble as she skipped through some of the less useful information. ". . . will feature legendary fighter Stainless Steele in his penultimate . . . defence of the B.R.A title. . . B.R.A?"

"Blue Rat Alliance." Spike and Jet said in unison.

The two then looked at each other.

"Please, after you." Spike said, gesturing for Jet to continue.

Jet turned back to Faye, and accepted Spike's invitation.

"The Blue Rat Alliance is an Earth based syndicate group." he explained. "It's made up of a number of smaller clans that came together when they realised that they couldn't survive on their own in competition with the other, larger off-world syndicates."

"I see." Faye responded in a tone of mock interest.

She then continued to read the article.

"Hey." she said, finally surfacing after several moments of diligent study. "It says here that Steele used to work for the Red Dragons on Mars."

"Yeah, so?" Jet replied.

"Well, isn't swapping sides like one of the worst things a syndicate member can do?" Faye asked. "I mean, didn't anyone go after him?"

Spike looked away subtly as he was consumed by a pang of regret. Faye's perfectly innocent inquiry had stirred up briefly memories of a past life that no amount of bad whisky could persuade him to divulge. Quickly, he quelled his emotions. That life was gone; bled to death in some filthy alley on Mars.

"Yeah, they would have if he were a regular syndicate member." Jet answered. "But pit fighters aren't like your standard issue thugs and gangsters. They have contracts to the syndicates that can be bought and sold, just like a regular sports star."

"And these Blue Rat people `bought' Stainless Steele from the Red Dragons." Faye surmised. "I guess that owning him would be the only way to get him to fight to the death every week."

"Not so." Jet corrected Faye once more. "Pit fighters, the ones that survive a while at least, get treated like kings by their employers. These fellas can make a mob boss very rich if they're good enough. Isn't that right, Spike?"

"Hmm?" Spike droned distantly as he was torn from his introspection.

"Isn't it true that pit fighters are well treated within the syndicates?" Jet repeated his question, only this time in more detail.

Spike's eyes narrowed with suspicion as he beheld his partner.

"Why are you asking me?" he enquired, cautiously.

Jet gave another mischievous smirk.

"Well, I just thought you ought to know since you wanted to follow in your hero's footsteps when you were a kid." he remarked.

"This is getting really old, really fast, Jet." Spike sighed wearily. "Can we just drop it now?"

But there was to be no such luck. Faye turned round and sat back down on the couch.

"Aaww, does Spikey wanna grow up to be a big strong pit fighter?" she jested, smiling broadly.

"Drop it, Faye. I mean it." Spike warned, before turning his attention to Jet. "And I never said I wanted to be a pit fighter. All I said was that Steele was one of the things that inspired me into the martial arts."

"Yeah." Jet conceded. "I never did understand that. I mean the stuff you do is so skilful and precise. All Steele ever did was pulverise his opponents with those metal knuckles of his."

"That's not the point." Spike said. "Fighting is a fine art, like painting. There are lots of different styles of both, each just as valid as the others. Steele's style may not be pretty, but it's effective."

"Woah woah woah." Faye intervened. "No one said anything about metal knuckles."

"Actually, it's not just his knuckles." Spike informed her. "All the bones below his elbows are made of spacecraft-grade titanium alloy. In fact, all pit fighters have some kind of artificial body part or parts to enhance their fighting. It makes things a bit more interesting. Why, is that going to be a problem for you?"

Faye met Spike's awkward smirk with a laboured look of nonchalance.

"Not at all." she replied. "I just want to make sure I have all the info I need before we go charging in. No point in taking any unnecessary risks."

Spike's smirk broadened into a wry smile.

"Since when were you worried about taking risks?" he asked, ironically.

Faye huffed disdainfully and dismounted the couch. At this point, Ed, who was now frustratingly no longer the centre of attention, bounded over the back of the couch and dropped down cross-legged where Faye had been kneeling. Turning Tomato to face her she announced loudly,

"Event takes place at 9pm EET! Be there or be a two dimensional quadrilateral of equal sides and vertices."

Faye momentarily forgot her chagrin with Spike, and glanced over her shoulder at Edward.

"Since when could Ed speak Chinese?" she asked, bemused.

Ed was the centre of attention once more. Mission accomplished.

"Hmm, nine o'clock, eh?" Jet mused. "Good. That gives us some time to get ready. Or, should I say, that gives Spike and Faye time to get ready."

"What?!" Faye and Spike's laments rang out in unison.

It was Faye who landed the second blow.

"Why don't you go?" she complained to Jet. "The last thing I need is to spend any more time bottled up with him."

She then flicked her head toward Spike.

"Hey. Ex-ISSP, remember?" Jet said, shrugging as if to signify that the matter was out of his hands. "I must have broken up a hundred of these things back on Ganymede. It wouldn't do any good if I were recognised, now would it? Spike was a regular back on Mars, and the chances are no one will know you."

Faye sighed in resignation.

"Fine." she conceded, and then turned her back on her colleagues. "I guess the only thing to decide now is what to wear."

With Faye's back now turned, Spike saw his opportunity. Quickly and stealthily, he hopped out of his seat, rounded the table, and planted his backside into the couch next to Ed.

"Why do you need to change?" Jet enquired.

"It's a fight." Was Faye's reply. "Everyone gets dressed up when they go to the fight, right?"

"I don't know if getting dressed up is a good idea." Spike spoke up. "Remember what happened the last time you got dressed up. What was it again? The opera?"

Faye turned to face Spike, and placed one hand her hip.

"All the more reason for me to wear something nice." she informed him. "Every girl deserves a glamorous night out where she doesn't get kidnapped by a deranged gangster."

"Still, I think you should reconsider." Jet advised. "These things can get pretty messy."

"He's right." Spike agreed. "You wouldn't want to get your pretty frock all mussed up."

"Excuse me, but I have been to boxing matches before." Faye replied dryly. "I can deal with a little blood and sweat. I mean, I hang out with you guys don't I?"

Spike opened his mouth to continue the argument, but then had a sudden change of heart.

"You know what, Faye?" he said. "You do whatever makes you happy."

Faye leaned back slightly, adopting an expression of mild surprise.

"Why, thank you Spike." she said. "It's nice to see that you're making an effort to improve your attitude. "

Faye then turned away once more, raised her hand to her chin and began to stroke it pensively.

"Now, I'm probably going to need to touch-up my make up as well. . ." she thought out loud. "My purse. Where did I put my purse. . ?"

"You have a purse?" Jet asked in a surprised tone of voice.

"Yes, I have a purse." Faye replied. "Every woman needs somewhere to keep her essentials."

"O-o-oh." Jet said, having been enlightened. "You mean the stuff you use to cheat at card games."

"Yes the. . . hey!" Faye exclaimed betraying her offence at this accusation, notwithstanding the fact that it was true.

Meanwhile, Spike had been shifting about uncomfortably in his seat. Something had been prodding him in the lower back, and it was beginning to make him regret have re-conquered his old territory. Reaching behind his back, he forced his hand into the crevice between the upholstery and grabbed the anonymous object responsible. With a single tug, he plucked from its snug hiding place and brought before himself.

The object was a small, yellow, leather purse. The mouth of the purse was reinforced by a metal rim, and was held shut by a protruding clasp. This was doubtless what had been causing Spike such discomfort.

With that mystery solved, Spike was overtaken by curiosity once again.

"What have we here. . ?" he uttered as he forced the bag open indelicately.

This utterance attracted Faye's attention.

"Hey!" she barked upon seeing that her personal belongings were being violated. . . again.

She lunged towards Spike, narrowly missing a collision with Ed who, with a startled yelp, drew her precious computer in to her chest protectively. However, Faye's progress was halted as Spike, without looking up, thrust out a lanky leg and pressed the sole of his foot against her exposed midriff. There she was held at bay as Spike continued his rummaging.

"Hmm. This is interesting." he commented, unfazed by Faye's flailing arms.

"Hey, Spike." Jet called amusedly. "Is there any money in there? She hasn't been holding out on us has she?"

"Ooooh! Treasure hunt!" Ed squealed in excitement, and leaned over to peer into the purse for herself. "X marks the spot, cap'n. Aaarrr!"

" `At a girl, Ed." Jet chuckled. "You be sure to tell us if you find any pieces of eight, or precious gems. You know what they say: Diamonds are a girl's best friend."

"Batteries is more like it." Spike commented.

Faye gasped in mortification, and momentarily ceased her struggle. Then, with her will galvanised by her building rage, she swept Spike's leg aside with her forearm and in a single, fluid motion, grabbed the purse with her right hand and punched Spike squarely in the jaw with her left.

Spike reeled to his left under the force of the impact, almost toppling off the sofa.

Faye pulled away from him, and turned away in disgust. She then stormed past Jet without a word, and on out of the room.

Spike righted himself, and began to rub his throbbing jaw.

"You alright, Spike?" Jet asked, the amusement still evident in his voice.

"Yeah." Spike replied, sounding slightly amused himself. "She hits like our last bounty head."

Faye's angry footsteps were still thundering from down the hallway as she quick marched away from the scene of her humiliation. There was then a pause in the wrathful drumming, and then a more temperate beat took its place. Slowly, it grew louder and louder as its source drew closer to the door. Just as it seemed that the sound was upon the remaining bounty hunters, it ceased.

"Spike?" Faye called gingerly, without showing her face.

"Yes, Faye." Spike replied.

"Will there be any betting?"