The circular door fell shut with a heavy CLANG.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Spike sloped down the short flight of stairs, his lanky frame hunched and taut. Blood soaked the left shoulder of his blue suit, feeding a glistening black stain.

Faye and Jet looked up from the couch, eyes wide. Sighing, Jet headed towards the kitchen for the medkit.

Faye pursed her lips. "Let me guess. He had trained monkeys assisting him?"

Spike spared her a brief glare and began to work his sticky jacket from his body.

"Honestly, how hard can it be to take out a small-time smuggler?" Faye lit a cigarette, a poor effort at feigned disinterest.

"How bad is it?" Jet's baritone voice rang down the long hall.

Spike ignored the previous question. "Nothing much. Bullet didn't go in; just grazed me. Burns like hell, but I'll survive to enjoy the sweet taste of triumph once again."

Jet reappeared through the door, carrying a small bundle of gauze, a pair of tweezers, and a bottle of disinfectant. "So what the hell happened? I thought this was supposed to be an in-and-out job. Isn't the kid just an amateur?"

"He may be an amateur," Spike said, peeling his yellow shirt away from his bloody shoulder, "but he had some major professional help. Funny that wasn't mentioned in his Big Shot profile." He reached across the low table to slip a cigarette out of Faye's pack. She took in a short breath, decided not to speak, and instead held up her lighter for him.

"Hired goons?" Jet up-ended the bottle into a wad of gauze.

Spike finished inhaling the first of his victory smoke, and sat back on the couch. "Dozens. Not just your run of the mill idiots either. All black suits, all armed with the same guns, too, I'm guessing. It was unreal. Why call an entire army to defend a lemonade stand?"

Faye gave him a puzzled look. "You went in even though these guys were stationed all around the rendezvous point? You're a bigger lunkhead than I thought."

Spike grimaced as Jet swabbed his wound. "No, dummy, they literally sprang up out of nowhere. I pointed my gun, and a split-second later the room is full of these guys. Must've been hiding in the windows and ceiling, or thin air, or somewhere. I got one shot off before I noticed how many there were -- of course, I missed... Busted the package instead. Shattered glass all over the place."

Jet began wrapping Spike's shoulder. "I'm surprised you made it out with just this scratch."

"They only got a couple of shots off. Soon as they popped up, I ran like a cat on fire."

Faye snorted.

"Hey, even a lunkhead knows when he's outnumbered." Spike stubbed out his cigarette and watched Jet seal down the gauze.

"It just doesn't make sense, though," said Jet, rubbing his chin and watching a spot of red grow in the bandage. "He's a small-time guy, making your average sized Red Eye deal... why all the protection?"

"I dunno, Syndicates can get pretty territorial." Spike shrugged, and immediately winced. "Maybe it was ultra-pure stuff, or had to get to some bigwig."

Jet grunted and rolled up the unused gauze.

Spike blinked. "The kid was awful careless. Just had some flimsy wood crate. Usually Red Eye - especially premium stuff - is shipped in a padded briefcase. I'd be surprised if even a third of it was still intact after I shot."

"I'm not even going to ask how you know that," Jet grumbled as he stood and began walking out of the room.

Spike ignored him. Draping his jacket and shirt over his good shoulder, he rose to his feet. "Hey! Jet! There anything to eat?"

"Just instant noodles," Jet called back at the same moment Faye remarked, "Right back to business as usual, then, huh."

Faye was the one ignored this time. "Delicious," Spike mumbled, with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner. He shuffled towards the kitchen, limping slightly.

"They get your leg, too?" Faye gestured towards Spike's feet with her cigarette.

Spike stopped and glanced down at his boots. "Nah, I just got something stuck in the sole of my shoe..." He took another step, and stopped again. "Dammit, Faye, now that you pointed it out, it's even more annoying. Do you just have that effect?"

He sat on the floor and started removing his left boot, which proved to be a slow and awkward process with the use of only one arm. Faye scrunched up her face and blew him a sarcastic kiss, which went entirely unnoticed.

Spike froze.

"Hey guys..." he began. He didn't need to finish.

Held between his thumb and forefinger was an enormous diamond.

Jet stood in the doorway, gaping.

Even in the dim artificial light of the Bebop's living room, the diamond sparkled and shone.

"We should send you out on these jobs more often," Faye breathed.