Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Black Knights, Steel Hearts ❯ Chapter 30

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

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Bubble Gum Crisis is copyrighted by Artmic Inc. and Youmex, Inc. I am just
borrowing the characters for a little while, and promise not to bend, fold,
or staple them - unless I can come up with a good reason to do so. I can be
contacted at the Email address above. C&C will be accepted, out and out
flames will result in a Boomer or two being sent after you.

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

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Chapter 30

Sylia's Apartment
Saturday, December 22, 2035
10:34pm

When Sylia unlocked the door to her apartment, she half-expected Mackie to be waiting for her. But she didn't expect he'd have company.

"Sylia!" cried Nene, jumping to her feet (and out of Mackie's lap, a part of Sylia's mind noted dryly). "You're home!"

"Of course she's home," grumbled Priss, glaring at the redhead from her place on the couch. "She lives here, after all."

"How was your night?" asked Linna with a grin. She had been standing near the windows, a glass of wine in her hands.

"All of you waited up for me?" asked Sylia with a smile.

"It wasn't exactly planned this way," replied Mackie with a sheepish look on his face. "I was here by myself, and --"

"I got sick and tired of lying around, doing nothing," finished Priss. "So I convinced Mackie to fix me a spot on the couch so I could keep him company. Then, little miss Cyberpunk showed up with a bottle of wine --"

"It wasn't like that!" whimpered Nene, her cheeks bright red. "I just thought a little wine to...er --"

"To celebrate Priss' return," cut in Mackie quickly.

"That's right!"

Sylia smiled at the two of them, then looked at Linna. "And your excuse?"

Linna grinned. "I don't have one. I just thought that it might be a good idea for us to be together tonight, just in case."

Sylia place her purse on a table and unwrapped the fur stole from around her shoulders. "I suddenly feel like a sixteen-year-old just getting back from her first date." She looked at them. "I suppose the hardsuits are online and the KnightWing is gassed up and ready to go?"

The others reacted. Mackie looked at the floor and said nothing, while Nene's face became even redder. Priss covered her eyes with her free arm and mumbled something that sounded to Sylia like "Mind reader." Linna exhaled slowly, looking chagrined.

"I see," said Sylia, after several seconds of silence. "Which part of my evening had you worried, the date with Greg, or the dinner at GENOM Tower?"

"Both," replied Mackie, still looking at the floor.

"Do you think I am incapable of handling Greg Mallory?"

He looked up at her. "You've been acting weird since you had lunch with him. I thought it would be a good idea to be ready, just in case."

"I appreciate your concern, Mackie, but Greg isn't a villain."

"But he's a sharp SOB," said Priss from the couch.

"And handsome," chimed in Linna. "And rich."

"How do you know that?" asked Nene.

"I've seen his picture, and overheard people in the office taking about him."

"I don't trust him," said Priss.

"Neither do I," said Mackie. "What does he want from you?"

Sylia walked over to the table next to Mackie, poured a half-glass of wine from the decanter sitting there, and picked it up. "He wants to marry me," she said softly.

Mackie came flying out of his chair. "WHAT?" he screamed in disbelief. Nene looked at Sylia, her mouth slightly open in surprise. Linna looked stunned.

Only Priss didn't seem astonished. She raised her arm just enough so she could look at Sylia. "What did you tell him?"

Sylia sipped some of the wine before answering. "I told him I couldn't."

Mackie looked relieved, and both Nene and Linna relaxed. But Priss didn't look convinced. "He's not going to take 'no' for an answer," she
said slowly.

"He didn't."

"What is he going to do about it?"

"He's going to wait until I say yes."

"But that's insane!" said Mackie, looking hurt.

"You haven't met him," said Priss, covering her eyes with her arm again. "He'll wait for years if he has to."

"Priss is right," said Sylia firmly, "but enough about my night. Our evening was cut short because Boomers attacked MALCORP's Pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center."

There was silence for several seconds, then Priss asked, "How's Greg taking it?"

"Not well. He's mad, but he has a tight control on his temper. We've got bigger problems though. Nene?"

"Yes?"

"I want you to check on the whereabouts of doctors specializing in blood disorders, as well as any equipment used to treat. . . ." She stopped for a minute, went over to a small end table and wrote something down and a piece of paper. She walked over to Nene and held out the sheet to her. "I wrote the disorder down to make it easier to remember."

Nene took the sheet, glanced at it and frowned. "I'll get on it right away."

"I also want you to dig up all you can on the Boomer attack at the pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center."

"Right!" She hurried out of the room.

Sylia turned to Linna. "Help Priss to the spare bedroom, then go home. For right now, all we can do is gather enough information, and be ready for action."

"Your not leaving me out of the action," said Priss with a scowl as she swung her legs over and sat up.

"For right now, you rest. When the time comes, we'll see how well you are."

The singer sighed. "You win," she grumbled.

After Linna helped Priss out of the room, Sylia turned to Mackie. "I want you to help Nene."

"All right," he said slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I don't know what Greg's plan is, but I'm not sure I like it."

Sylia sat down and finished the last of the wine. She gazed into the glass, for several seconds. "Greg Mallory, in many ways, is like me," she said carefully. "The Black Knights were formed by Greg and are a secret part of MALCORP. In fact, Knight One is Greg Mallory."

Mackie looked a bit stunned. "But the Hardsuits. . . ."

"I wasn't the only one to get a data cassette. Remember the number mine had on it?"

"Yes, number two."

"Greg received data cassette number one for his sixteenth birthday."

"You mean "

"That the Black Knight hardsuits are Stingray-based designs, and Greg has the same type of 'enhancement' I received."

Mackie sat down slowly. "Isn't this all moving too fast? I suggest "

"That's why I told him I can't marry him. I don't know anything about him, and my life is here."

Mackie relaxed, but there was some still skepticism in his eyes. "What do you feel for Greg?"

Sylia sighed. "I don't know."

"Don't know, or won't tell me?"

"I really don't know. There's a part of me who's ready to say 'yes' to him right now, and another part who's telling me to run away from him
as fast as I can."

Mackie stood slowly. "Just be careful with him, OK? Maybe I'm just being a brother, but I don't want to see you hurt."

Sylia smiled up at him. "I will be careful. And thank you for caring."

"That's what brothers are for." He glanced at the door. "I'd better go help Nene."

He had taken two steps before Sylia asked, "Mackie?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful with Nene, OK? I don't want to see either one of you hurt."

Mackie looked embarrassed and didn't look at his sister. "I didn't think you noticed."

"The signs were hard to miss."

He scratched his head. "Er. . . well, I'd. . . er. . ."

"Go on. If I have anything else to say about the subject, I will let you know. For now, enjoy your time together."

"Right. Thanks for understanding."

Sylia smiled. "That's what big sisters are for."

She waited until Mackie closed the door behind him before she stood up, poured another half-glass of wine and want over to the windows. She stared out into the city below, her mind trying to sort out her feelings.

**********

Warehouse #41526584
District 4
Saturday, December 22, 2035
10:40pm

"OK, what the hell happened?"

Marcus Jackson looked up as Mallory stalked into the office. There was no sign of anger in Greg's face, but his eyes were cold and hard.

"A batch of Boomers hit the MALCORP pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center about fifty minutes ago," said Marcus evenly. He shifted slightly, wishing he could sit down in the chair behind him, but the chair wouldn't support his weight plus the hardsuit he was wearing. His helmet sat next to the map he'd been studying when Greg had walked in. "They hit, tore up the place, then disappeared."

"I know that much." Greg leaned forward and placed his fists on top of the desk. "How bad?"

"Bad enough. At least ten dead, mostly guards and cleaning people, and three times as many in wounded. I don't think more then a third of the security robots are still functioning. If we hadn't been on a Level One Red security status, the toll would have been much higher. As it is, we probably lost at least six months' worth of experiments and research data because of this attack."

"Damn," hissed Greg. "How many Boomers did we get?"

"Two confirmed destroyed, and two more damaged. We've got the remains stored away and told the police all the Boomers got away. I've
already got a team looking the remains over." Marcus waited a couple of heartbeats before he continued, "According to the data, these Boomers had some type of force shield in operation."

"This stinks to high heaven," Greg looked away for a second. When he looked back at Marcus, his face was tight and cold. "What have you done, security-wise?"

"We had to pull the Knights back from the G&B targets. Harland and Blue Team are on site right now. Jeena is handling the visible security,
while Harland's team stays out of sight. I've sent White Team and a Rattlesnake to stiffen our defenses at our biological research lab. Red Team is in reserve and I've put everyone on war footing."

Greg nodded. "I want to go out and look over the site of the attack."

"Not a good idea, Greg. Not tonight. No telling if this attack was designed to get you out into the open."

Greg looked up at the ceiling. "All right, they want to play hardball, we'll give them hardball. I want the other West Coast teams here ASAP. Use the Falcon transport, and tell them to redline it."

"You want both teams?"

"Yes, plus any support personnel they can find, and all the equipment they can haul."

"If they're involved in operations -"

"Screw the operations," replied Greg bluntly. "I want as much firepower as we can pull together, as fast as we can get it here. We're going on the offence."

"Against who? We're not even sure who the enemy is!"

"I have suspicions."

"That's not good enough!"

The look Greg gave Marcus was chilling. "I didn't start this," he said, his words cold, "but before I'm finished, those bastards will wish
they never heard of MALCORP."

"What about Janie?" Marcus' voice was sharp and bitter. "Are you willing to sacrifice her to sooth your wounded pride?"

Greg glared at him for several second, then looked away. "Thanks for the reminder," he said softly.

"Are you all right?"

Greg waved a hand. "Too little sleep," he muttered. "This mess is getting out of hand." He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

"Do you still want the other teams here?"

Greg nodded without opening his eyes. "At the very least, they can pull guard duty while the other teams go after G&B-Japan HQ."

"You want to hit G&B HQ?" Marcus looked shocked.

"Not really, but I'm now convinced they're behind the kidnaping. This attack was their way of telling us to back off."

"I take it were not going to back off?"

"We are going on the offensive as soon as the other teams get here." Greg opened his eyes. "I want the other West coast teams to bring some
special equipment and people with them."

Marcus straightened. "What equipment?"

"I want the field cryogen capsule and all necessary support equipment and staff. If the reports are right, Janie is in critical condition right now. The capsule will allow us to get her out of there with a reasonable chance of success -- it is heavily armored enough to protect her from a stray laser or bullet."

"Fair enough. What about personnel?"

"There's supposed be a conference on Blood disorders in Hawaii that's to start the day after Christmas. I want the West Coast teams to pick up Doctors Charles Langmeade and Imaidegawa Narumi from that conference."

"Suppose they don't want to come along?"

"Then kidnap them," Greg growled. "They're the top two people in the field of Janie's condition, and I need them here and now!"

Marcus sighed then nodded. "I'll send the word out. Assuming the teams are free and clear, they'll be here before two A.M.."

"Thanks, Marcus." Greg's head drooped, and for several seconds, the only sound in the office was the CEO's deep breathing.

Marcus moved around the desk and took Greg by the arm. "It's time you got some shuteye."

Greg waved him off. "I'm all right."

"Bull. We pushing forty-eight hours on this mission and you haven't had more then three hours of sleep in that time."

"None of the teams have had much sleep either."

"They've had twice as much as you have. You can't keep pushing yourself like this, Greg. We need you rested and focused when the time comes. You're no good to anyone, especially Janie, if you're too tired to think straight."

"I said I'm all right." There was iron in Greg's voice.

"Bullshit," replied Marcus, his own voice hard and unyielding. "Killing yourself is not going to help Janie any. If you don't get some sleep right now, I'll hit you with a traq patch and put you under for eight hours. He tapped his chest, the soft thud of the hardsuit audible in the office. "And in this tin suit, I've got a significant advantage in strength."

Greg closed his eyes. "You win." Marcus watched him walk over to the couch next to the desk and sat down.

"How was your night before I called?" Marcus asked.

Greg closed his eyes, out his head back, and smiled tiredly. "The Dinner was excellent, the host was polished, and the conversation simulating."

"And your date?"

The smile became larger. "How can I describe perfection in a few words?"

"What did you do with her?"

The smile disappeared. "I dropped her off at her place. I wasn't very good company on the ride home I don't think I said half a dozen words to her during the entire ride back to her place." He sighed. "I enjoyed her company."

Marcus' eyes narrowed. "You sound like you've fallen for her."

"Like a ton of bricks. . . ." Greg's voice died off to a mummer, and his breathing became deep and regular.

"Greg?" Marcus waited half a minute, then walked carefully over to the couch, picked up a folded blanket, and looked down at his boss. "Pleasant dreams Boss," he said softly, then unfolded the blanket and draped it across the sleeping figure. He then quietly walked out of the office, careful to close the door cautiously behind him.

**********

Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters
Saturday, December 22, 2035
11:17pm


". . .Dead and another thirty injured," said the televison reporter. "To the best of our knowledge, none of the attacking Boomers was destroyed. MALCORP representatives are refusing to answer questions regarding possible bio-hazard experiments said to be ongoing here at the center. This is Faye Asayamaike, GBC news, reporting from the MALCORP pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center."

Carlton Bradley touched a button and the serious looking reported disappeared from the televison screen. "Not bad," he said slowly.

"They should have done more damage before they were recalled," said Cora from a chair across from her brother.

"I disagree," said Carlton. "We had lost two of the Boomers, and a couple of more severely damaged. To stay any longer would have brought
the ADP fully into the game."

Cora snorted. "Those idiots? They couldn't find their ass with a map and directions!"

"Even the ADP could have gotten lucky," said Hachio Ozu from his position by the window. "And MALCORP's Security chief here is ex-ADP -- She has contacts to smooth over any problems."

"How do you think MALCORP will react?" asked Carlton.

"Depends on how much they actually know. But I think we have a bigger problem."

"What can be worse the MALCORP?" demanded Cora

"The word I'm getting is that one of the Gang leaders is nosing around the company's holdings."

"What's the problem? It's just some punk thinking he can rip us off for a quick score."

Ozu shook his head. "Skeeter Karns isn't some punk looking to steal from us. He's the biggest gang leader in the city. Even the Yakuza and the Triads avoid pissing him off. If he's involved, then he's after Janie VanDell."

Cora's bark of laughter was short and derisive. "You're getting paranoid," she told Ozu. "I don't care how big this Skeeter is, he's a nobody."

"Why do you think he is a danger to us?" asked Carlton quietly.

"Because he has a genius-level IQ, a hatred for people who abuse children, and frequently passes data on to the police, including Inspector Leon McNichol of the ADP."

"Why do you think Skeeter would pass McNichol anything involving Janie?"

Ozu looked at both of them. "Officially, McNichol is on vacation. But, my people have seen him entering a bar used by Skeeter as his headquarters twice in the last twenty-four hours, the second time with Jeena Malso."

Carlton's eyes narrowed. "McNichol's working for MALCORP?"

"Not necessarily. Malso and McNichol were partners when Malso was in the ADP. Malso's one of the few people outside of the ADP that McNichol would trust to guard his back."

"But Malso works for MALCORP!" exclaimed Cora.

"If McNichol asked her to guard his back, she would do so without hesitation."

"What would you suggest?" asked Carlton in the same composed voice he'd used throughout the conversation.

"We take out McNichol, Malso, and Skeeter - all at once, if possible."

"That would stretch our useable resources to an unacceptable limit." Carlton's eyes narrowed. "Instead, we eliminate only one target for now,
with the option of going after the others later. Who would you choose?"

"Malso. She's the one heading the search operation."

"No." Carlton waited for several seconds before he continued. "I think this Skeeter Karns should be the target. With his removal, the ADP would lose a valuable source. It would also distract the ADP and N-Police. Once word gets out that Skeeter is dead, there will be gangs ready to pick up the pieces. With G&B backing the right candidate, we can spread our influence that much more."

Cora smiled hungrily. "I like it. How are we going to do it?"

"We'll use the hit teams we had out after the MALCORP freelancers. Is Team One ready to go?"

Ozu nodded. "That'll give us a strike force of sixteen - four Boomers and twelve humans."

"Make sure the humans know that a dead Skeeter is worth five million Yen to any of them that survive."

"You're not going to actually pay them, are you?" asked Cora, with a frown.

Carlton smiled at his sister. "The operative words are 'to any of them that survives.' I don't expect anyone but the Boomers to make it out." He looked at Ozu. "Is that clear?"

"Yes Sir. When do you want then to attack?"

"As soon as possible. The more confused and distracted our enemies are, the better for us."

Ozu glanced at his watch. "Give me a couple of hours, and it should be done."

Carlton nodded. "Are the rest of the new security measures?"

"In place."

"I want you to double check everything. We've come too far to leave anything to chance."

"Yes sir." Ozu left the office at a brisk walk.

Cora waited until the door was closed before she asked, "Why the hit teams? Why not use the force shield-equipped Boomers?"

"Several reasons," replied Carleton was he leaned back in his chair."The first is they are our hole card, in case things don't go so well. Second, they need to be repaired, upgraded, and their shield generators checked for signs of breakdowns. Third, it will cloud the issue as to who is doing what to whom."

"I see." Cora stood and perched herself on the edge of Carlton's desk. "Could I ask you for one more thing, Brother dear?" she asked in a little-girl voice.

"What?"

"When we kill Quincy, can I have his head? I think it'll look great with my collection."

Carlton looked at his sister for several seconds before he smiled at her. "Assuming there's anything left of his head, you can have it."

**********