Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Black Knights, Steel Hearts ❯ Chapter 23

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

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The Bubble Gum Crisis OVA's (which this story is based on) are copyrighted by
Artmic Inc. and Youmex, Inc. I am just borrowing the characters for a little
while for non-monetary reasons. I can be contacted at the Email address above.
Serious C&C will be accepted, out-and-out flames will result in a Boomer
or two being sent after you, once they get around to building them.

Please, enjoy my take on the Bubble Gum Crisis universe . . .

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Ch apter 23

AD Police Headquarters
Saturday, December 22, 2035
11:09am

Nene stopped and stared at the small plaques next to the door. It still said COMPUTER SECURITY OFFICE, but under it, there were two more plaques, smaller in size and lettering, but still readable. The first one said, COMPUTER SECURITY OFFICER - SERGEANT NENE ROMANOVA. The one below that said, ASSISTANT COMPUTER SECURITY OFFICER - CORPORAL ALAN TREMOLINI.

She didn't know how long she stood staring at it before Alan stuck his head out of the office and asked, "Like it?"

She looked at him, feeling a little stunned. "Sorry?" she said. It had taken her a bit over two hours to fill out the paperwork for her promotion, followed by a short meeting with Lieutenant Asaikeda, head of ADP's Computer Support Office, and her new boss. She wasn't sure
how she managed to get through both the paperwork and Asaikeda's speech without falling asleep.

If she had been given a choice, she would have called out sick, but Mackie had forcibly vetoed the idea once they got into the car. "It wouldn't look good if you called out sick on you first day at your new job," he'd told her. When she'd objected, he'd replied, "I'm sorry, but
you'll have to act like nothing's happened."

"But Priss is dead!" she'd yelled at him, trying hard not to cry.

"We don't know that," replied Mackie quickly. "In fact, I think she's alive."

"What?"

"After you went to bed, I ran the last transmissions we got from Knight One through the computer trying to piece together what he said. I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I think the Black Knights hustled out an injured Priss before the Thor Strike."

Nene didn't remember the trip to ADP Headquarters. She was tired, still a bit sore from the fight on the highway, and worried about Priss. Priss could be a pain in the neck sometimes, but she was a team mate. How could Sylia just take off and leave Priss behind?

"The plaques. I had them made up last night."

"Oh." Get in gear, girl! "They're nice, real nice."

"You don't sound happy."

"Er . . . well . . . I didn't get a real good night sleep, and . . . I . . . er -"

Alan held up a hand. "I'll get some coffee. You look like you need it."

"Thanks, Alan. I could use a cup."

"One cup of coffee coming up." He came out of the office, and walked past her. "I suggest the first thing you ask supply for is a coffee maker - you're going to need it."

"ME?" Nene squeaked. "What about you?"

He smiled. "I'm a confirmed tea drinker. I hate coffee."

"Oh. Where are you going?"

"The cafeteria - they have the closest thing to coffee in this building."

"I'll get set up, and after you get back, you can start getting me up to speed on the security system."

"You got it, Boss. Back in five."

Nene watched him walk out of sight before she ducked into the office. She sat at her desk, and worked frantically to check the hospital and morgue records over the last eight hours for anyone matching the description of Priss. She leaned back in her chair and waited for a match.
She exhaled slowly when the screen flashed "NO MATCH FOUND".

Well, she isn't in a hospital, or the morgue - at least not yet. Of course, if she was still there when the Thor strike hit . . . . She cleared her mind of that thought and checked police reports for the same period, again with no match. Disappointed, she eliminated all evidence of her search from the computer system. She switched back over to the security system ten seconds before Alan walked back in the door with a cup of coffee.

He placed the coffee next to Nene and said, "OK, Boss. Where do you want to start?"

She looked up at him. "A general overview, followed by planning a threat assessment for the system. How long do you think it'll take to complete a threat assessment?"

"A week, week and a half."

"Too long. Let's see if we can a preliminary threat assessment done by the end of the shift tomorrow. We can start a full assessment the day after Christmas. Fair enough?"

"Sounds like a plan." Alan went to his cubicle, and came back with his office chair. He sat. "All right. Let's start with the basics of the ADP computer security plan . . . "

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Dastari's Restaurant
Tinsel City
Saturday, December 22, 2035
11:35am

Sylia waited until the elevator doors opened completely before she stepped out into the foyer. The foyer was elegant, letting the customer know that the restaurant they were about to enter was far and above the normal dining experience. Just the type of place Greg would want
us to meet.

She had chosen to wear a dark and severely cut business suit for this meeting. Looking at her hands, she saw they were steady, which surprised her. She wasn't sure what to expect from someone she hadn't seen in fifteen years, but she wasn't going to act as she did when she was
thirteen. Find out what he wants first, then react, she thought. Don't worry about anything until then.

She approached the doorman, who bowed and opened the door for her. Once inside, the matre'd strode smoothly up to her, and bowed. "Yes Madam?"

"I have an appointment with a Mister Gregory Mallory," said Sylia calmly. "For eleven-thirty."

The matre'd's eyebrows' rose slightly, but he nodded. "Miss Sylia Stingray?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Mallory and his party arrived ten minutes ago, Madam." He turned away. "If you will follow me, please."

There were only a few tables occupied this early in the day, mostly executives having a late breakfast, or an early lunch. The layout of the restaurant gave every table a spectacular view of the surrounding city, but the most highly sort after tables were the ones nearest the windows.

It was one of these tables the matre'd led her to. A tall and lean man sat there, drinking tea. He was almost handsome, with dark hair cut short and combed away from his face. He looked up as Sylia and the head waiter approached, and Sylia saw his eyes - one was green blue in
color, the other steel gray - light up with pleasure.

He waited until Sylia was seated before he motioned to a teapot. "Care for some tea?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet. He carefully poured her a cup and handed it to her. "I'm glad you came, Sylia," he said cautiously.

"It has been a long time, Greg."

"I know. Don't worry about anyone listening to us." He tapped a finger on a small flat device sitting on the table next to him. "This will keep our conversation to just between you and me."

"It must be important."

"It is." He stared out the window. "It's change a lot in twelve years, hasn't it?"

"It has. The earthquake started it all."

"And GENOM continues it. Creating MegaTokyo in its own image." There was a tone of anger in his voice, one that Sylia was quick to pick up on.

"You don't like the changes?" she asked carefully. "Ten years ago, this city was a disaster."

"But is the price to rebuild it too steep?" He motioned to the view. "How much of this city does GENOM own outright, or control through other corporations?"

Sylia sipped her tea. "A strange thing for a CEO of a Megacorp to be asking, isn't it?"

He turned and smiled thinly at her. "Sylia, I'm not Quincy. I still believe in white knights and slaying evil dragons. Only, these days, my knights are lawyers and accountants, and the Evil dragons are called GENOM and Gulf and Bradley."

"Still dreaming, aren't you?"

"It's the only way." He reached across and placed a hand on one of hers. "I hear your brother is studying in Germany. How is he, by the way?"

"He's doing very well," she replied, gently disengaging her hand from his. "He's home for the holiday."

"Following in his father's footsteps?"

Sylia nodded, then put her cup down. Time to go on the offensive. "Enough of the good old days. What's the real reason you wanted to see me? I know why you're here, and I'm not sure I like the reason. Why does MALCORP want Janie VanDell?"

"You don't miss much."

"You're not answering my question."

Greg inhaled deeply, then released it slowly. "Since you insist. Doctor Nathan VanDell is - was, an old friend of the family. He and my mother went to the same school, and worked together on several projects."

Sylia nodded. "And how much did you know about the work he was doing?"

"Very little, it turns out. Two years ago, he came to me when his company was in financial trouble, and asked if I was interested in buying into his company. I paid three times the value for a thirty per cent share in the company, just so one of the other Megacorps didn't slide it and grab it."

"How helpful of you."

Greg ignored the sarcasm. "We didn't discover exactly what Doctor VanDell was working on until just before we left the United States to come here."

"It wouldn't be a force shield small enough to fit on a Boomer or a hardsuit, would it?"

"You have good sources."

"Thank you, but what does this have to do with Janie VanDell?"

"You're the second person in two days who's asked me that question." He paused to sip his tea. "And I'm going to tell you exactly what I told him. I've known Janie since she was born. She's a bright, sweet natured teenager who wants to be a medical doctor. She's also the only
person still living who knows the plans for the force shield." He gripped the teacup tightly, and said in a loud voice, "I'm not going to have my goddaughter's mind shredded for a lousy piece of electronic junk!"

One or two people in other booths turned to look at them, but Greg's stare sent them quickly back to their own meals. Greg took a deep breath, and continued in a voice just above a whisper. "Somebody has gone too far this time, and after we extract Janie out of whatever hole
she's in, I'm going to make sure that the people responsible never have the chance to do anything like that again."

"Whose we?"

"MALCORP, and the Black Knights."

"What about the Knight Sabers?"

Greg looked carefully at her. "That's one of the reasons why I asked you here today. I want an alliance between the Black Knights and the Knight Sabers."

Sylia felt a stab of coldness grip her. He wasn't guessing. He knows! "Why tell me?" she asked slowly, her face still. "Why should I care about the Knight Sabers?"

A flash of irritation crossed his face. "Sylia, don't deny being part of the Knight Sabers. As I said in my note, I was almost sure you were behind the team before I came here, and after last night, I'm certain of it."

Sylia looked at him coolly. "And what makes you think I'm behind the Knight Sabers?"

He leaned back. "I remember a shy young girl with a genius IQ, and a drive to be just like her father. I remember her taking apart my toy Boomer, examining it, then putting back together so well, it worked better then it had before."

"I'm surprised you remembered."

"I had some help, just like you did." he replied cryptically. "I don't think you're changed all that much in the last thirteen years, and I don't believe you are just an owner of a lingerie store."

He sipped his tea. "A simple businesswoman wouldn't hold onto the land where her father's lab once stood, not when she could demand nearly any price for it." He looked out the window. "I've seen some of those offers, and several were more then generous. That property is not an
investment for you, it's a reminder to you about whom the enemy is, and what they will do to succeed."

"An interesting idea," replied Sylia blandly

"And then there's Doctor Raven. I've known him for years and my mother has known him for a lot longer then I have. If there's three other scientists in the world who can match his creditals, you've found them all. There's at least ten Megacorps, including MALCORP, who would pay him a huge amount to have him working for them." He looked out the window. "Believe me, I've tried, but he refuses to leave this city. For him to be running a garage in a slum area is akin to finding Albert Einstein working as a High School Physics teacher."

"That's not much evidence."

"No," he admitted, looking into his tea. "But Doctor Raven is a man of honor. Men like him are not easily induced with money or other materiel things if it means sacrificing their honor. I think . . . " He stopped. "No, I know, it is honor that keeps him here. He was a good friend
of your father's, Sylia."

"I know. He's been a good friend to Mackie and me since Father died."

"I know. He's the type of man who would keep a promise to a friend. A promise to your father to help you and Mackie fight the battle that Katsuhito Stingray knew was coming."

Sylia nodded slowly. "What else makes you think I'm behind the Knight Sabers?"

"The incident outside the pool hall last night, for one. The battle on the highway, for another."

Damn! "I suppose denying it is out of the question?"

"It is. I know you were there at the pool hall, and on the highway."

"Did you tell Knight One my name?"

He took a deep breath. "I suppose since I know a secret of yours, Sylia, I should trust you with one of mine."

She was silent for a minute, surprised at this admission. "What type of secret?"

He put down his teacup, and looked directly into her eyes. "Sylia," he said quietly, but firmly. "I am Knight One. The Black Knights work for me, and with me. I was the one outside of the pool hall. I was the one who warned you about the backup team that tried to kill you, and I
was the one who took out that Boomer." He picked up his teacup. "Any questions?"

She sat there, silent, her mind numbed. The man who sat across from her, someone she'd known as a child, doing the same thing she was doing. Are we that much alike? And yet, what he said made sense. Too much sense. I need time to think.

"What about Priss?" she asked slowly, afraid of the words.

"She's always that ill-tempered?"

Sylia smiled weakly, then nodded. "You get use to it after a while."

"I hope so, because she gives new meaning to the term `Loose Cannon'. As to her current health, well, she has three broken ribs, a concussion, but healthy otherwise. Her hardsuit's a bit mangled though."

Sylia nodded slowly. "When do we get her back?"

"Later today. Leon will drive her to a location you chose, and turn her over to you."

Her eyebrow went up. "Is that wise? Priss has been starving off a potential relationship with him for several years now."

Greg chuckled. "That would explain why she spent several minutes and an extensive use of street language letting Leon know just how a big a jerk he is. From the way he acted last night, I suspect Leon's known about Priss being a Knight Saber for a while now."

"Oh? Priss never said anything about it to me."

"That's because Leon didn't tell anyone about it, including Priss, until today. Under that macho exterior is a true romantic."

"That's debatable. Does he know about my involvement?"

Greg shook his head. "With Priss, there was no way of avoiding it, but I will shield your identity from the rest of my people." He finished his cup and poured another. He added milk and sugar, then stirred his tea slowly. "Priss doesn't usually get close to people, does she?"

Sylia shook her head. "Nearly everyone she's gotten close to has died on her. She's afraid."

"I know how she feels. And so do you."

"Do I?"

Greg put his cup down and reached out to hold her hand. "You do," he said, and Sylia saw a gleam in his eyes. "I know because you and I are much alike. We both fight against something we see as wrong, using our minds, hearts, and souls to blunt the excesses of GENOM and the other Megacorps."

She again removed her hand from his. "Assuming I believe you about Janie VanDell," she said coolly, "why bother talking to me at all? It seems your people have things well under control."

"I think that it's time some matters were cleaned up. That's another reason that I asked you here today. I need you to tell you some things you don't know anything about."

Sylia felt a lump form in her stomach. "What things?"

"For one, your father is not the sole inventor of the hardsuits you use."

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Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters
MegaTokyo, Japan
Saturday, December 22, 2035
11:39am

Carlton Bradley came storming through the front doors of the building, with Ozu and two of the Boomer bodyguards right behind him. The other two bodyguards had preceded their boss, and were scanning the area for possible trouble.

If the actions of the bodyguards weren't enough warning, the expression on Bradley's face more then made up for it. He was seething, and he did nothing to hide it. Why must I be surrounded by idiots?

He strode toward the elevators, Ozu and the Boomers forming a tight circle around him. Employees and visitors alike gave way before the small knot of men, none wanting to risk the displeasure of a man well known for his temper.

The elevator ride up was made in silence, as was the walk to the office. Bradley slammed open the door to his office, startling the people waiting inside. He strode in followed by Ozu and two of the Boomer bodyguards. As he walked around to his desk, he glared at each of them. He
continued to stare at each of them after he sat, allowing the tension in the room to build slowly.

There were seven people in the office besides the four that had come in. Four were dressed in subdued suits that Ozu insisted his security people wear. They were standing in front of the desk, along with Doctor Zin-Choon, and a heavyset woman wearing a lab coat. Cora Bradley sat by herself on the couch nearest the desk, looking like a cat getting ready to play with a mouse.

After a minute, Bradley said in a seemly mild tone, "What exactly happened?"

A thin man in a rumpled suit nervously licked his lips, and stepped forward. Bradley looked at him, waiting for the man to speak. When the man said nothing, Bradley slammed his hand down on the desk. The loud crack startled everyone in the room.

"I will say this once," Bradley said in a low, tight voice barely above a whisper. "I want to know what happened to Janie VanDell, and if you people don't tell me now, I will fire you so fast your head will spin. Once more, I'll see you never work anywhere in this city ever again.
Is that clear?" He stared at the man in the rumpled suit. "You start, Chasen."

Chasen licked his lips. "I was on monitor duty in the security area. At ten twenty-five, I saw the VanDell girl throw a sheet over the security camera. As soon as she did, I alerted the security team on duty."

"We confirmed that," said Cora.

Carlton didn't look at his sister. He looked at another of the security men. "Hathaway, what happen next?"

"We reached the girl's cell at ten twenty-eight," replied the squat, thick-faced man. "We attempted to open the cell door. But the door didn't respond to the key card, or the override sequence."

"The little Bitch had managed to pry open a small access panel and shorted out the door motor," said Cora, her voice laden with anger.

"It took us several minutes to force open the door. By the time we managed to open the door, she lying on the bed, with blood everywhere," continued Hathaway.

"How did she manage to slit her wrists?" asked Carlton sharply, his face a mask of rage.

"She broke off a piece of the bed's metal slats, and somehow managed to sharpen an edge on it."

"Why wasn't her cell searched on a regular basis?"

"Because we were ordered not to."

"Whose orders?"

"Miss Bradley, sir. We were told to have no contact with the girl in any way, shape or form. The girl wasn't to see or talk to anyone."

"I see." He didn't look at the female Doctor. "Doctor Kyso, What is her condition?"

"Critical," replied the woman. "She lost a lot of blood."

"What about a blood transfusion?"

Kyso shook her head. "She has an abnormal blood condition that makes a normal blood transfusion impossible. If we gave her regular blood, it would kill her."

Carlton closed his eyes and leaned back. "What are you doing to try and stabilize her?"

"She's hooked up to a machine that will keep her alive for the time being. I have people quietly scouring the city for either people with the same condition to use in a transfusion, or a source in one of the labs." She shrugged. "The next twenty-four hours are critical for her."

"Go back to your patient, Doctor," said Carlton wearily. "She is to be your only concern until she's improved."

Kyso nodded and stalked out of the office. Carlton opened his eyes to look at the four security men. "I should fire the whole lot of you right this second," he said, letting some of the anger back into his voice. "But, I can't fire you for following orders - even my sister's." He saw her straighten up in anger and he smiled slightly. Let her stew for a while.

"What I am going to do, though, is put the four of you on probation for the next six months. Any other screwups, of any size, and you're fired. No appeals, no reconsiderations, but you will be gone. Understood?"

The four men chorused a ragged series of "Yes, Sirs" and "Understood, Sirs".

"Then, get out."

The four security men hustled out of the room. Carlton watched them leave, then looked at Ozu. "Those four are to get every lousy job that comes along for security in the next six months. If any of them survive, they get a clean bill of health and the matter closed."

"Yes sir. Any other actions against them?"

Carlton shook his head. "Not unless I say so. That is all. I need to speak to my sister and Doctor Zin-Choon over this matter."

The Security chief nodded, and strode out of the office. After Ozu closed the door, Carlton looked at his sister. "Why did you issue such an order?"

Cora shrugged. "I didn't want her to be able to identify anyone. Also, I didn't want to take the chance that one of our people would feel sorry for her and help her escape."

"Does that include security?" hissed Carlton. "Damn it Cora! Your order came close to ruining six months of work!"

"How was I supposed to know the little witch would have the balls to cut her own wrists?" snapped Cora. "Her psychological profile showed no signs of this!"

"May I say something?" asked Zin-Choon mildly.

Carlton looked at the doctor. His anger at his sister had caused him to forget the presence of the interrogator. "Yes, Doctor?" he asked coldly.

"I afraid Miss Bradley is not quite correct about the girl's psychological profile."

Cora glared at the Doctor. "What do you mean?"

"While the psychological profile does not show a suicidal tendency, it does show a very intelligent girl who will analyze her position and act accordingly."

"So?" asked Carlton.

"Put herself into her position. She's alone, no chance of escape, and she knows she can't hold out for much longer. So, she decides to prevent us from securing the information we need the only way she can - by killing herself."

"Only because we gave her the time!" shouted Cora, standing. "If you hadn't asked my brother to give her a day's rest, we would have the data by now!"

"I doubt it," replied Zin-Choon quietly. He looked at Cora, his expression unreadable. "I know her type. She would have found another way to resist us. An attempted escape on the way to the interrogation chamber, or throwing herself off a balcony, or out a window . . . " He sighed. "All she has managed to do is delay any interrogation for the foreseeable future. To attempt now would be folly." He stood up and walked to the door. "I suggest that the girl be restrained, in case she tries again. Good Morning."

"Now what?" asked Cora, after the Doctor left.

"Now?" said Carlton softly. "Now, we start a war."

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