Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Under Pressure ❯ Ch. 1: Battery ( Chapter 1 )

Under Pressure (Queen)

 

Sadly, I do not own the characters of Cowboy Bebop. They are the property of Sunrise, Bones, and Bandai Visual (2001). They make the money, not me. Nor can I take credit my chapter headings- they are the product of their authors.

 

Chapter 1: Battery (Metallica)

 

Jet scowled and shook the ineffective gadget. Grumbling about inconveniences he flipped the remote over and popped it open.

“What the hell?”

Empty. Gutted. Just like his comm, all the available flashlights and his spare radio. He glared at the hole where four, shiny, silver batteries should have been. He'd just bought new for Pete's sake! A cold panic flooded his system. Jumping to his feet he scrambled to the kitchen, opened the fridge and dug out his dummy box of baking powder- it had been his hiding place for batteries, smokes, sweet treats and so much more since Spike moved in. It had become one of his little boxes of comfort on a ship full of neurotic chaos. A secret collection of must haves but do not wish to shares. The scowl morphed to paranoid twitching. The weight was wrong. He tipped the box out- someone on the ship had found his stash of unshareables. The problem, who?

Ein clicked in. Cocked his head. Jet studied the pooch apprehensively. The dog was eerily intelligent, but lacked the proper appendages and height to open the refrigerator, remove the box and pop off the stubbornly secure lid. Blue eyes narrowed, thumbs were necessary for such a sneaky deed. Which left: everyone else.

Ein's ears quirked at the sound of flapping feet. The soft split-splat filled the tense atmosphere with a bit of comedic relief. Ed loped into the room. Jet considered her as she carefully twirled around the quadruped, offered a lopsided grin, snagged one of the bon-bons from his stash and disappeared. Hmmm… his lips pressed tightly as he thought, gaze returning to the bright orange box, Ed has never shown an interest in baking soda and the candy hadn't been taken…

On autopilot he stuffed the box guts back in place and returned it home under the tiny, little light bulb at the back of the icebox; closed the door and left the kitchen. His lip curled into a snarl, And then there were two. Dusting off his hands he steered towards the part of the ship his

suspects lived, he would catch the thief. Nobody defiled one his sanctuaries without repercussions and if he had his way, the battery nabber was destined for a reckoning he or she would have difficulty ever forgetting.

 

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Faye snickered and put another battery into her newest `trial item'. Jet really needed a new place to store his treasures. She'd known about the soda box, the bag of peas, the third bonsai on the left, his hidden drawer in the toolbox and the air vent in the bathroom long before she became a permanent fixture aboard the ship. She giggled as she slipped the last one home, certain Jet was having a shit hemorrhage over the loss of portable electricity, and Spike would have a stroke if he ever found out how the ship had been kept well supplied with very few bounties. She schooled her features and slipped the offensive item under her pillow, the report of an enraged stomp stormed towards her door. She flopped on her back, pretending to read- just in case. The door hissed open, a seething man backlit by the hall light.

Faye blinked, surprised to see Jet glaring at her.

“Where are they, Faye?”

Swallow, “What?”

Eyes slit, “You know.”

Blink, “Know what?”

There was a crack, “Why didn't you ask?”

“Ask for what?!” she glared at her disintegrating doorframe, “Knock it off Jet you're goin' to bust my door.”

Another disturbing snap, “And that's a problem, why? It's my ship.”

She sat up, incensed, “Because I need privacy!”

“Bullshit,” Spike drifted by with a grumbled snort, “You're a prime exhibitionist.” He paused, returning to leer at the gaping cowgirl, “I should know I went with you to that bar the other night.”

Jet twitched at the sudden shift in the atmosphere, Faye had gone from livid to humble in record time. He turned to his sneering partner, “What happened?”

Grin. Shrug. “Faye decided to be the night's entertainment.” He winked, “Didn't you get some tips for that little stunt?”

She blinked, hoping he'd be kind enough to spare her the humiliation that would incur if Jet, and therefore Ed, learned how she had managed to snag the group's largest sum of the year. She cringed; she'd never hear the end of it! Ed was already asking a variety of questions about various activities and she'd seen Jet's stash of magazines, had even bought a few, hidden under the third bonsai on the left. She didn't want to add to his fantasy fodder. Nope, he was not the cowboy aboard the Bebop she hoped was thinking about her in such a potentially, mutually gratifying way. She shivered unconsciously it just felt wrong to even consider the eldest cowboy thinking of her that way.

Jet studied her futile attempt to blend into the wall, batteries forgotten. More interested in what she'd pulled to make her blush so quickly. He paused; perhaps it would be best not to know. Faye had a tendency to go overboard. Frown, but she'd never done anything too sordid or debauched, at least by Bebop standards. The woman was a card sharp and swindler but she had her limits. He glanced at his partner again. The smirk on Spike's face promised that whatever she had pulled, it would be worth it to have Ed dig up the security footage from the bar.

Faye's expression morphed from fear to forced composure then smug, “What? Two girls kissin' too much for you to handle,” she purred, “Cowboy?”

Jet tapped his head, certain he'd heard wrong.

“Please.” Snort. “Only reason you followed through was because you knew the bounty had a thing for that shit.”

Her eyebrow quirked, “I don't recall you steppin' in and cuffing anyone while I kept the crowd busy.” She snickered, “Glad your jaw finally realigned,” stepped closer, “you get the dirt off your chin?”

Jet gaped- he hadn't misheard.

Spike shifted.

Faye cooed, “Too busy enjoying the show to help out; weren't ya, Spiky?”

Twitch.

She swayed to her bed. Jet cleared his throat, highly uncomfortable with his position between the pair. It was about as safe as no man's land on Titan. She settled on the edge of her bed, lips parted in a devilish smile, “You and the bounty have similar tastes, hmmm?”

Jet jerked, positive he needed to dig up the security video of the take-down.

Spike shrugged, “Nah. To be honest I was mortified.” His head waggled in mock disgust, “It's not every day you get to see two desperate women act out in order to receive a modicum of male attention.” Grin, “Did your daddy not give you enough love, Faye?”

“You…” she pinked, “You…” She stood. Jet elbowed the gloating cowboy back and tugged the door closed; Faye slamming against the metal barrier as it clicked, “BASTARD!!” She continued ranting furious, scathing retorts. Each varied insult linked to Spike's character, physical attributes and/or abilities clearly making their way through the thick walls. Jet cringed. She was livid which meant, most likely, they would all suffer. Silently contemplating a sightseeing vacation with Ed he watched Spike limp away. His arms had floated up, his hands linked behind his head, the physical embodiment of sincere smug. His whistling and uneven footfalls echoing back.

Jet focused on the suddenly silent room, a sense of dread parking in his gut. He rubbed his beard. Then remembered why he'd been at Faye's door in the first place. With a tentative peek back at the simmering cowgirl's room he decided to throw valor out the hatch and grumped off to `trim his bonsai' and pretend he hadn't noticed the batteries were missing. It wasn't like he didn't know where the other stashes were- it just irked him that his favorite and most convenient hidey hole had been desecrated. She could've at least asked!

 

 

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Spike flopped over. No good, the sound still carried through. Deciding Ed must have found a new toy he needed to step on, brown eyes cracked open to scan the dimly lit room. He scowled at the solitude. No Ed with a new remote controlled something or other. He scanned up the wall. No large insect droning lazily across the ceiling. Nothing. His forehead furrowed in thought, was Jet vacuuming? The ex-cop had been rather displeased over something Faye had done, why else would he have been at her door in prime lecture position? Shrug. Perhaps he was burning off some steam? The soft buzz continued. It sounds like the ship's hard drives. Deciding to utilize his talents in disregarding nuisances he rolled towards the wall, burrowed under his bedding and forced sleep to return.

……….

Twitch. The noise was subtle, hardly noticeable if it weren't so quiet, but invasive.

……….

It was persistent but he refused to accept defeat and buried his head under the pillow.

……….

He shifted, there was definitely someone humming just over the soft thrum.

……….

Vocalizations grew chaotic.

The quilt was yanked higher, only a nose poking through.

……….

Soft moaning.

His eyelids mashed tighter. He would prevail, God dammit!

……….

THUMP! Someone bumped the wall.

Smirk. He now knew where the annoyance was coming from and by the slight creaking underlying the constant thrum he would be able to `deal' with the problem efficiently, noisily and enjoy every moment of it. Pleased, he now had a target to vent his frustrations upon he relaxed and drifted off into light, happy fantasies full of retaliation and highly gratifying retribution. A slight, nagging thought continued weaseling its way to the fore, he was certain he'd heard a name which could pose problematic. There shouldn't be any reason for her to mention a name, especially his name while she was cleaning her room or beautifying. Grin, She probably tripped and cussed. Satisfied, he forced the miniscule amount of worry from his thoughts and drifted off to sleep.