Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Black Knights, Steel Hearts ❯ Chapter 31

[ 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 31

Sylia's Apartment
Sunday, December 23, 2035
12:17am

Sylia stared out into the lights of the city. She was alone, as the others had left for the evening, or had gone home. Nene and Linna had left half an hour ago, while both Priss and Mackie were sleeping in their own rooms. At least she thought they were sleeping -- she wouldn't put it past either or both to be lying there in the dark, waiting for her to retire for the evening.

She looked at the empty wine glass in her hand. Greg's words drifted across her mind again: "And if all you think about is the present,
you lose your future."

Was she doing that, becoming so bound up in her war against GENOM that she was losing sight of the future? And her teammates -- was she
dragging them down with her? She turned away from the window, her thoughts ill-focused for the first time in years. She carefully placed the glass on a side table, then sat down in a padded chair and leaned back. Slowly, she closed her eyes and began sorting out her feelings and thoughts.

The hood she had killed outside of Niko's pool hall. Fargo was right about him -- he would have killed her if he'd gotten the chance. Maybe
a background check on her would-be murderer would ease her mind.

And what about Greg? part of her mind asked. Try as you might, you can't get rid of him that easily.

She frowned. The cool analytical part of her mind hated this internal voice, the emotional part of her that rarely made its presence known to her. Most of the time, she managed to keep her softer side under firm control, letting just enough of it show through to her friends so they didn't think she was completely detached from her surroundings. But for some reason, it had broken free of her control and was now whispering to her about the future.

The phone rang, starling Sylia out of her thoughts. She glanced over at the phone sitting next to the chair, the one used by Fargo. With several
quick strides, she reached the phone. After putting down the wineglass, she picked up the phone, her hand moving surely. "Yes?" she said.

/Hello, Sylia./

"Fargo."

Fargo's voice was smooth and businesslike. /The VanDell girl is at G&B HQ. From the sound of it, the girl is injured in some way. They've
increased the security around the building, including bringing in Boomers. They're expecting trouble./

"Anything else?"

/Evidently, this is a rogue operation set up by the twins, and there's some pretty nervous talk among some of the rank and file./

"Do you have any contacts inside G and B's home office?"

/One or two./

"Can you get word to them?"

/About the twins' plans? I could, but I'm not sure that'll help./

"Tell them that something bad is about to happen to the G and B - Japan headquarters that's going to give the entire corporation a black eye."

/How big a black eye?/

"Evidence that will point towards the twins' being involved in the destruction of the coastal highway."

There was silence for a moment on Fargo's end of the line. /You're serious?/

"Very. And if it comes out, Janson Bradley will be fighting off lawsuits for the next twenty years."

/I see your point. I'll talk to my contact and pass along the information./

"Good."

/That's all for now. I'll stay in contact if something new turns up. Stay safe, Sylia./

"Good-bye Fargo."

She turned off the phone and looked at it for a minute. She then sat down and reached for her purse. It took her less then thirty seconds to find the card Greg had given her at lunch. She dialed the number and waited.

The phone was picked up on the third ring. /Hello?/ asked an unfamiliar voice.

"Is Greg there?"

/He's sleeping right now. Is it important?/

"Very. I need to speak to him right away. It's about Janie."

/One moment./ Sylia listed to the sound of footsteps, then a door opening, followed by more footsteps, and a faint voice calling out Greg's name. A short muffled conversation followed, then she heard Greg's voice.

/Hello?/ he asked in a scratchy voice.

"It's me Greg. I've got information about where Janie is."

Greg became fully awake. /What is it?/

"Fargo found out she's in the main headquarters building of G and B, under tight security. They've brought out Boomers to stiffen the defenses."

/Figures./ Sylia heard Greg speak to someone else in the room. She managed to make out the words, 'ETA', 'transport', and 'here ASAP'. After twenty seconds, Greg spoke again. /We go after her tonight. I've got extra Knights coming in that should be here by three, but you're more then welcome to come along. How about a council of war at about three-thirty?/

"Sounds like a good idea. Where are you?"

/Have your team at the corner of Two-Twelve and Jiro in District Four at three o'clock. I'll have a Knight there to guide you the rest of
the way./

"Very well."

/Hold on a moment./ There was the sounds of muted conversation, then the faint sound of someone closing a door. /Sylia?/

"You're alone?"

/Yes./ There was a moment of silence. /I'm sorry about tonight. I wasn't very talkative on the way back. That was foolish of me, and I'm sorry./

"There's no need to apologize. I do understand. You had a lot on your mind."

/Still, I do need to apologize,/ said Greg in a soft voice. /I shouldn't have shut you out like that./

Sylia was silent for several seconds, looking for the right words, but none came. "I don't think this is the time or the place to talk about . . . our relationship," she said gently.

/You're right, of course./ She heard Greg take a deep breath. /But, I thought it was important that I tell you. I guess my social skills
still need some work./

Given a chance to change the subject, Sylia took it. "Speaking of social skills, what was behind that performance tonight at GENOM Tower?"

/Performance?/

"Telling Quincy that Janie doesn't know about the force shield plans, and that you may wave found them, in the wreckage of Doctor VanDell's lab."

/The computer core that MALCORP recovered?/ There was silence for a heartbeat, then Greg said, /What I did was tell Quincy enough of
the truth so I could slip in a lie or two. We did find an undamaged computer core, and it may have Doctor VanDell's note on it. It also may have nothing but computer gibberish on it. Those facts can and will be checked by GENOM and found to be true./

"And Janie?"

/There's a chance she really doesn't know about the design, but frankly, I don't give a damn about that I just want her home, safe and sound./

"And you're expecting Quincy to take you at your word?"

/Of course not./

Sylia frowned. "Then why did you -- "

/I wanted to give him a blurred impression of me./

"How?"

/I wanted to either think I'm a naive fool who isn't a threat to his power, or a sneaky bastard who he's going to have to keep an eye on. No matter which way he finally decides, he'll have to think about it for a time. While he's trying to figure out which one I am, GENOM will stay out of my way long enough for us to rescue Janie./

Sylia blinked as she thought about it. "I see," she said finally.

/It sounds worse then it actually is. Quincy didn't get to his level without carefully weighing threats and actions against each other. He's not about to change his methods./

"But if he thinks you're a threat. . . ."

/He'll wait until I'm more use to him dead then alive. Until then, he and I will play in the shadows./

Sylia closed her eyes. "Just be careful, all right?"

/I will be. All I have to do is stay out of GENOM's way as much as possible./ There was silence for several seconds, then Greg said, /I've got to go. I need to get the show going on my end, and you need to get your people together./

"I know. I'll see you at three-thirty. Good-bye."

/Good-bye./

Sylia replaced the phone picked up the wine glass and stared at it. She reached for the wine bottle, but stopped just before her hand touched the decanter. Shaking her head slowly, she turned and walked to the kitchen.

**********

Ri-san Bar
District 6
Sunday, December 23, 2035
12:51am

Despite the hour, there was a sizeable number of people still inside the bar. These were all Skeeter's people, the core of his old gang with a selected few from the other gangs. They formed the heart of the giant's effort to control the district. While a few wondered about Skeeter's methods and reason, all respected or feared the giant.

Skeeter himself was sitting at a table, watching two of his lieutenants play a game of chess. The game was well into the endgame, with white
having a slightly better position. Skeeter straightened. "Checkmate in six moves," he announced, his voice neutral in tone.

"For who?" asked Chika Kamayawa, glancing up at her leader. She was tall and long legged, with a honey complexion, long raven hair held in a loose ponytail, and eyes the color of obsidian. As one of Skeeter's chief lieutenants, and head of the field units, she had earned the position by being tougher then most of her male counterparts. Her loose-fitting clothes hide a small inventory of knives and other weapons she was well skilled in.

Skeeter smiled at her. "That would be telling."

Kamayawa's opponent sighed. "Boss, your aptitude to perceive the situation on the chessboard is moderately disconcerting. Could you please
not promulgate the conclusion to your verdicts until we have consummated the game?"

Skeeter continued to smile as he looked at him. "I never said which side had the mate in six, Doc," he said in the same relaxed voice he used
with Chika.

Doc was almost the exact opposite of Chika. He was slightly below medium height, stocky, with a craggy face and his reddish hair was cut close to the scalp. While he could fight, his role in Skeeter's organization was more intellectual. As head weaponsmith and mechanic, he kept the organization armed and mobile. He was also known for using big words whenever he could.

"In any circumstance, could you terminate your conduct incorporating the game?"

Skeeter chuckled, an unusual sound that was rarely heard. "I'll think about it."

Doc, use to his leader and friend's moods, looked down at the board. "Now I know why I stopped playing," he muttered.

"I thought it was because I beat you on a regular basis," said Chika with a smile.

Doc looked at her, frowning. "You have prevailed in precisely six games out of one hundred and four we have played over the last three years. I have triumphed in thirteen, and we have drawn the rest."

Chika raised an eyebrow. "And I suppose you remember what defense I played in the twenty-seventh game?"

"You played a mutation of the Queen's gambit declined, because you were playing white that game, not black."

Chika looked at Skeeter. "Is he right? I don't remember the move I made ten minutes ago in this game, let alone one two years ago."

Skeeter tilted his head slightly. "I must bow Doc's superior memory on that one."

Doc pushed a pawn forward on the chessboard. "Exonerate me for querying, but are you anticipating trouble tonight?"

"Maybe."

"I don't like the sound of that," said Chika.

"Nor do I," replied Doc. "Any idea who?"

"Some strong suspicions. Several new faces have been hanging around our patrons. Faces with corp security stamped all over them."

"Does this have anything to do with MALCORP?" asked Chika. "They've been pushing in all the wrong directions, and getting people killed."

"Of course," said Doc, staring down at the chessboard. "Having Inspector McNichol around here twice in less then twenty-four hours is a somewhat of an abnormal phenomenon."

"True," said the giant slowly, his smile fading. "I'll tell you what McNichol told me, and let you decide."

He outlined the situation in several minutes, and after he was finished, both Chika and Doc wore the same expression of anger. "I suppose you have our people looking for VanDell?" asked Doc slowly, his big words forgotten for the moment.

"Of course."

"And you trust MALCORP?" hissed Chika. "I wouldn't trust any Megacorp as far as could throw this building."

"Of course I don't trust MALCORP," replied Skeeter with a shrug. "But my sources say Greg Mallory is on the up-and-up."

"Just how good are your sources?"

Skeeter smiled again. "I trust them slightly less then I trust you and Doc."

Before Chika could respond, a small box next to the chessboard beeped. Frowning, Chika tapped a button on top of the box. "Field One," she said briskly.

//Outpost Baker Four,// replied a voice. //I have four bandit vehicles approaching my position.//

"Any ident on them?"

//Neg, Field One. They're corporate type sedans, but there's no telling what they're carrying. //

Doc looked at Skeeter. "The inconvenience you were expecting?"

"Possibly," replied the giant.

"It could be Sato sending us a message," said Chika.

"The Yakuza know better then to 'send me a message.' Sato's not that stupid, and neither are most of the others."

"The Bradley twins?"

"A more likely pair of suspects, but it's best not to take any chances. Chika, let's see who our guests are."

The raven-haired woman nodded. She tapped another button on the box. "All units, this is Field One. We have possible hostiles approaching
Outpost Baker Four. Units Epsilon and Kappa are to move in and set up a roadblock at Seven Ninety-Sixth Avenue and Seaview Drive. Units Mu and Tau are to provide back-up. Everyone else keep your eyes open. This could be a diversion."

"How long will it take to set up the roadblock?" asked Skeeter

"Three minutes, at the most. Both Sao and Johansson know what they're doing."

"Does this signify the contest on the chess board is completed for the foreseeable future?" asked Doc.

Skeeter nodded. "Let's step it up to ALERTCON three, and break out the heavy weapons."

"You're expecting Boomers?"

"I'm expecting just about anything, Doc. You and Matilda go find a good vantage point and cover the approach to the bar."

The craggy-faced man smiled. "I got some new ammo for Matilda, and I know the right spot too." He stood and picked up a long gun case. "We can recommence the competition at another period," he told Chika. "I've memorized the placement." With that, he turned and swiftly strode out
the front door.

Chika shook her head. "You sure know how to pick them," she said in a low voice.

Skeeter stood and stretched. "One of the keys to leadership," he replied lightly, "is knowing the right person to pick at the right time." He motioned to the now visibly armed patrons. "You'd better make sure these guys are ready and able, just in case."

"Right." She stood and started issuing orders. One of the defenders handed her and Skeeter compact comm headsets. Once the headsets were in place, Chika picked up a pair of compact machine guns from a nearby table and slung them over her shoulders.

Skeeter turned and picked up a shoulder holster from the table behind him and slipped it on. After he had made sure the rig was comfortable in
place, he picked up a pair of thick leather gloves and put them on. He then drew the massive revolver from it's holster and open the cylinder, and spun it slowly.

Chika turned around and stared at the large pistol. "What's that?" she asked.

"Doc's newest toy," replied Skeeter as he flipped the cylinder back into place. "He calls it a World Rattler."

"What's the load?"

"Same caliber as the EarthShaker, but the rounds are a bit longer. Also, Doc's built is so it has a five round cylinder instead of three."

Chika raised an eyebrow. "Have you fired it?"

The giant nodded. "I have to use a two handed stance to hit anything with it, since Doc didn't do anything about the kickback. But any Boomer
who gets hit is instant scrap metal."

"Not to mention any dumb sap who takes a round," Chika muttered with a shiver.

Just then, the box on the table said, //This is Unit Kappa. We're set up. Epsilon is moving into position now. Fifty seconds to contact.//

"This is Unit Mu," said a new voice. //We're thirty seconds from the backup position, Tau is twenty seconds behind us.//

Chika tapped a button on the transmitter at her belt. "No firing unless you're fired upon. Stay alert and watch yourselves. Let's try and keep this from getting out of hand before we know what's going on."

Skeeter made a final adjustment to his transmitter and spoke into the mike, "All Units, this is Field Six. Outpost Baker Four, I want a running description of the stop from now until it's over on this channel. Understood?"

//Yes Sir!//

"What is your name, Son?"

//Chosokabe, Sir!//

"All right, Chosokabe., keep me informed. All Active field units, switch to channel Damocles and link up with Field One on my command." Chika nodded and adjusted her headset's controls. Skeeter waited until she nodded before continuing. "Approaching cars are designated Bandit One
through Four. Last orders before Field One assumes control. Kappa, Don't expose anyone. Hail them on a loudspeaker, but don't move in until I or Field One give you the order. Field Five, are you in place?"

//Affirmative, Boss. Do you yearn for a precise venue, or will a imprecise locality do?//

"As long as You and Matilda can do the job, I don't care if you're in Quincy's private office."

//An implausible predicament,// replied Doc blandly. //The esteemed Chairman would not be congenial at the inspiration of us employing his
sanctuary for a sniper's roost//

Skeeter chuckled again. "But it might get a rise out of that old buzzard. Stay sharp."

//Right.//

"All operating units, switch to Channel Damocles in...five...four...three ...two...one...now."

//Outpost Baker Four here Sir. The vehicles are approaching the roadblock.//

Chika looked up at Skeeter. "Kappa's hailing them now."

//The cars are slowing. . . The first car just speeded up! They're trying to ram their way through the roadblock!//

There was silence for several seconds, then Chosokabe said, //Bandit One and Two have broken through the roadblock and are heading down Seven Ninety- Sixth at a high rate of speed!//

"What about Bandits Three and Four?" demanded Skeeter.

// Epsilon and Kappa have them pinned down. Estimate strength is six to ten guns, Assault rifle category.//

"I'm moving Tau around to hit Bandits Three and Four from behind," said Chika. "Mu's intercepting Bandits One and Two."

Skeeter nodded, but just then, Chosokabe shouted //SHIT!//

"What's wrong?" demanded Skeeter with a growl.

//At least two of the Brigands are Boomers!//

"What type?"

//Possible C-Class, but // there was a burst of static, followed by a long series of curses and rifle fire.

"Chosokabe!"

//Still here.// The voice was weak and in pain. //One of those god-damned boomers nearly took my head off with its mouth laser!//

"Are you all right?"

//For now, but those two boomers managed to get past the roadblock. They took out several members of Epsilon and Kappa as they went by.//

Skeeter glanced over at Chika. She looked unhappy. "Mu couldn't stop Bandit One and Two. They're heading in this direction, ETA two minutes."

The giant nodded. "Field Six to Field Five. Are the bandits in sight?"

//Affirmative, Boss. Permission to fire?//

"Affirmative." Skeeter turned towards the bartender, a hulking brute with a scarred face and a eyepatch over his left eye. "Patch, bring the
outside security cameras on-line."

The man nodded and reached under the bar. Next to the bar, a section of the wall slid away to revel a bank of monitors. They quickly flickered to life, showing the streets and alleys around the Ri-san Bar. Skeeter scanned each of them until he saw a pair of headlight slide into view, barreling down the street towards the camera. A split second later, another car raced around the same corner, and followed the first car. As it did so, the distance squeal of tires could be heard coming from outside.

"Lock and Load, People!" shouted Chika. The sounds of magazines slotting into the wells of assault rifles, shotguns, pistols, and machine guns nearly drowned out her next words. "Devechio! Take five men and cover the street from upstairs! The rest of you cover the front! Pick your shots and lets show these metallic morons the real meaning of firepower!"

Five men charged through the door in the back of the bar room, the sounds of boots on stairs echoing in the hall before the door slammed shut. The rest grabbed tables and carried them toward the front. The dingy curtains that framed the two large windows on either side of the bar's front door were hastily ripped away. Most of the lights in the bar died, plunging the tavern into deep shadows. Just then, there was a loud crack, like a distant thunderclap. On the screen, the first invading car's engine exploded in a splash of light and fury. Even as the explosion faded, the sound ripped through the bar.

//That's one,// said Doc calmly. //Going for the double.//

The second car had slammed on its brakes to avoid plowing into the first car. It slid sideways, missing the flaming wreckage by less then three meters. The doors flew open, and four people scrambled out. "We've got four brigands on foot!" Skeeter said in a loud voice.

There was another distant thunderclap, and the second car exploded. Three of the figures scrambled for cover, but the fourth turned and stared in the direction of the bar. As it did so, two flashes of light appeared from around the corner, becoming boomers as they landed out of the darkness next to the figure. Now all three looked at the bar.

"Shit," someone said in a loud whisper. "Boomers."

"Hosokoawa," snarled Chika. "Zip it, or I'll zip it for you!"

At some silent signal, all three leapt toward the tavern, the third tearing out of his disguise. As they passed the burning car, a fire wreathed figure emerged from the flames and joined the other three.

"Four C-Class Boomers," Skeeter called out.

"Wait for my mark," shouted Chika. "Anyone fires before I say so is going to have my boot up their ass!"

robots are progressing too swiftly for me to tag them.said Doc.

"Stay close," replied Skeeter, his eyes never leaving the screens."Chika, two hundred meters and closing."

"Field One to Mu," Said Chika into her microphone.. "Get you carcasses over to my location on the double!"

"One hundred and fifty meters." Skeeter drew his pistol with one hand and knocked over a large wooden table with the other. The crash of the heavy wooden table hitting the floor startled several of the gang members, causing one to involuntary tighten the trigger of his assault rifle. A short burst shattered the front window, sending shards of glass into the street.

Chika's eyes darken. "If we get out of this in one piece, Baker," she growled, "you're going to clean every single gun in the outfit!"

"One hundred meters." Skeeter stepped behind the table he'd just tipped over. "Get over here, Chika."

The dark-hair woman shook her head. "I'm staying right here."

"No you're not."

She turned to stare at him. "There's no way it Hell -- "

"Fifty meters," said Skeeter calmly, reaching out and grabbing his field commander by the arm and lifting her over the table with the same ease a parent would have with a young child. He looked down at her. "Dead commanders are no good to me," he said softly. He then glanced at the screens again. "Thirty meters," he announced loudly.

time now,muttered Doc over Skeeter's earphone.

"Twenty meters. . . .Ten meters."

"FIRE!"

The word was still being shouted by Chika when the entire front of the bar erupted in streaks of flame, shattering glass as the gang members opened up. Half a heartbeat later, the defenders on the second floor opened fire on the Boomers, followed quickly by others stationed in the building facing the bar.

C-class Boomers are covert designs, conceived as bodyguard and assassins. As such, they are armored and quick enough to give the undermanned and under- gunned AD Police fits when they went on a rampage. Most of the time, the ADP was forced to follow stupid bureaucratic
rules that caused more death and destruction then the Boomers did.

However, Skeeter's people weren't the type to follow ANY rules.

The quartet of Cyberdroids were hit with dozen of rounds, ranging in size from nine millimeter to fifty caliber rounds from a couple of old, but still potent, M2 heavy machine guns. Several rockets screamed in from several directions, adding explosions to the firefight.

The 55C that had survived the explosion of the first car didn't survive two RPG-23 rockets that slammed into its back, shredding armor and
internal components. The sixty caliber round, courtesy of Doc's Matilda, that punched through its forehead and blew out the back of its head, just completed the execution.

The two Boomers that had forced their way through the first roadblock each died less then three meters from the bar, the intense fire ripping
nearly one in half, while the other lost most of its upper body to a point-blank blast from a grenade launcher that nearly did the same to the human wielding it.

But the last Boomer, the one who had gotten out of the second car, crashed through the bar door and surged forward into the shadowy twilight
of the bar itself. While it had lost its right arm and most of it lower jaw in the barrage, the 55C was far from dead A loud 'snick' and the Boomer had two serrated blades pop out the left forearm, its red eyes seeking its target. Most of the firing stopped, as the gang was reluctant to accidently shoot one of their own.

Chika rolled out from behind the table and triggered both machine guns. The twin streams of rounds hit the Cyberdroid in the legs and lower torso with enough force to stagger it. Chika cursed when the subguns ran dry, forcing her to stop to change the magazines. Hissing in a manner that
suggested anger, it paused only long enough to gut two gang members that had moved in too close before throwing itself at Chika.

It didn't finish the jump.

Skeeter rose, holding the heavy wooden table like a battering ram. With a roar like an enraged grizzly bear, the gang leader threw the table at
the boomer. The improvised missile crashed into the boomer, splintering the table and hurtling the boomer into the wall with a loud crash.

People usually made two mistakes when they met Skeeter Karns for the first time. The first, and most common, mistake was the belief that Skeeter was nothing more then a big, stupid thug. Five minutes of conversation was enough to convince most people that the gang leader was anything but a moron. The second, and more dangerous, assumption was a man with the size and bulk of Skeeter was slow and poorly coordinated.

The Boomer made the second mistake

It took a split second to run a diagnostic on its systems before it rose. Before it finished reaching its feet, Skeeter had covered the few meters that separated them. Sensing movement, the boomer turned and threw a punch at the giant's chest, trying to impale him on the twenty centimeters long blades. Moving with the swiftness and ease of a tidal wave, Skeeter sidestepped the wicked blades, the giant's left hand deflecting the Boomer's arm down and away from his body. Like a pair of pistons, the giant's arm shot out and grabbed the Boomer's head.

The gang leader's right hand snaked around the back of the 55C's head, the left grabbed what remained of the jaw. The Boomer, realizing
what Skeeter intended, tried to slam its elbow into the giant's ribs, but it was too late.

With a snarl of fury, Skeeter twisted the boomer's head hard to the left. With a sickening snap, the boomer's neck broke, and its red eyes darken. Without stopping, Skeeter twisted the Boomer's head until it came free from its body. As the Cyberdroid's body collapsed into a heap, the gang leader's expression was unreadable. He looked down at the head of the boomer still in his hands and scowled.

It was then that a dozen gang members, led by Doc and the modified sniper rifle he called Matilda bursted into the bar. For several seconds,
there was silence in the bar.

"Look alive people!" Chika shouted, breaking the mood. "This may be just the first wave, and we still have an unknown number of the enemy
out there! Hosokoawa!"

"Yo!"

"Take a dozen men and track down those frakkers that bailed out of the second car!"

"Right! Robeson, Toshisada, you're with me. Grab some guys and let's go hunting!"

"I want them alive if possible," said Skeeter in a calm voice. He looked at Hosokoawa. "I want answers to a lot of questions."

Hosokoawa nodded grimly, reading his leader's mood. "You heard the Boss!" he shouted. "He wants breathing bodies if possible, and we'd
better damn make sure it's possible. Let's go!"

As the response team dashed out of the bar, Chika and Doc exchanged glances. Doc handed Matilda to one of the other gang members and walked over to Skeeter. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

"No." He turn and threw the Boomer's head against the wall with enough force to leave a sizable dent in the wall. "I am angry," he said in a calm, still voice.

Doc repressed a shudder, remembering the last time his boss had become 'angry'. A year back, the Red Cobra Triad had tried to move into Skeeter's territory, seeking to expand their power and influence. The giant had told them to get off his turf. The head of the Red Cobras responded by trying to have Skeeter killed by six of his top assassins. Slipping through the giant's security, they found the giant and did their best to kill him.

Skeeter killed all six with his bare hands.

Doc remembered the look on his friend's face when they burst into his room. The same composed look, the same calm voice that announced he was angry as he dropped the body of the last hired killer. The Red Cobras' dreams of expansion, and most of the Triad, died in a brutal two-week war that ended with the death of the Cobra's leader at Skeeter's hands.

"What do we do now?" Doc asked, but he already knew the question.

Skeeter turned and gave him a cold smile. "The same thing we did to the Red Cobras."

"We don't know who did this!"

"I do. Put the word out we are now at ALERTCON one. All units are now active and are on a war footing. I want Rodent here ASAP, and I want all our intel people out on the street within ten minutes from now -- they'll get their orders then."

Doc nodded. There was no talking to Skeeter when he was like this. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I do. It's the Bradleys that don't know what they've begun. I intend to finish it, and now."

Doc turned and looked at the burning cars outside the shattered windows. In the distance, there were the sounds of gunfire as Hosokoawa's
men hunted down the human attackers. "Here we go again," he muttered.


**********

GENOM Tower
Sunday, December 23, 2035
12:28am

Quinton Faust nervously adjusted his tie as the elevator rose. He wished there had been time to change and freshen up before this meeting,
but the Chairman's orders were clear: At once. The folder under his right arm wasn't thick with papers, but the information in it was important. Important enough to bring it to the Chairman's attention at once.

He didn't bother to glance at the boomer bodyguard he'd been assigned since his elevation to Special Assistant to the Chairman. Unlike his
predecessor, Faust didn't care for a phalanx of boomers to shield him from the outside world. In fact, he had protested ANY sort of bodyguard, but Chairman Quincy was quite firm -- and what the Chairman wants, he gets. So the single BU-55C became Faust's shadow.

Despite the bodyguard, Faust reflected, his current position was a great improvement over his old life. His life was GENOM, and he served it willingly, even to the point of limiting his social life to an occasional solo dinner. He knew he wasn't chairman materiel, but he still did his job, ignoring the rumors and gossip about Brian Mason, one of his predecessor. Whatever Mason had done wrong, Faust was determined not to make the same mistakes.

"Are you all right, Sir?" asked the Boomer politely.

"I-I'm fine George," Faust replied with a stammer.

The boomer nodded, but said nothing else. Several seconds later, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Faust strode out and turned right, followed by his bodyguard. The hallway was devoid of the normal office noise, allowing the quiet hum of the building's system to be audible. With
the exception of a pair of cleaning Boomers, there was no one around.

There were five Boomers on guard duty when Faust and his escort arrived in the chairman's outer office. Four of the Cyberdroids Faust recognized as the brand- new and advanced BU-65Cs that were part of the Chairman's personal protection team. Slightly smaller and sleeker then the older 55Cs, Faust knew they were faster, stronger, and smarter then his own bodyguard, answerable only to the Chairman himself. The fifth boomer was an older 55C, that Faust identified as Madigan's personal bodyguard. All five turned to watch the two walk in.

"I'm here to see the chairman," Faust said.

One of the 65Cs nodded. "He's expecting you, sir." The Boomer turned and opened the door wide. Faust strode in, while his bodyguard took its place in the outer office.

The office was in darkness, the lights of the city below the only source of illumination. As Faust's eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could make out four people in the room. Two were the last of the Chairman's personal protection team, standing near the door to the outer office. Both gave the Special Assistant what looked like an unfriendly stare, but Faust knew was really a detailed scan of his body for any weapons or explosives hidden on him. He stopped and stood still, allowing the boomers to complete the scan. After several seconds, one look at the man sitting behind the desk. "He's clean, sir."

"As was expected," said the Chairman, his face hidden in the shadows. Madigan turned to look at the newcomer, frowning at him. Despite the hour, she looked well groomed and relatively fresh.

"What do you have?" the Chairman asked, leaning forward enough so Faust could see his face.

Faust strode forward, stopping in front of the Chairman's desk. "We've found a common thread among the stolen Boomers."

"What?"

"Not a what, sir, but a who." Faust opened up the folder and passed a photo to the Chairman.

Quincy took the photo, looked at it for several seconds, then passed it to Madigan. "Who is it?"

"Satoshi Asamizu. Age 39. For the last years, he has been director of the Boomer maintenance centers for the entire Pacific Rim sector. Divorced, two children and ex-wife living in San Francisco. Clean record up to this point in his career."

"Why is he a link?" asked Madigan.

"Every single missing Boomer was serviced in one of the centers under his direction in the six months before they went missing."

Madigan arched an eyebrow. "Every one? Even those lost in Europe and the Americas?"

Faust nodded.

"That's thin evidence," said Quincy slowly.

"Yes, Sir, but it gave us a direction to look in." Faust pulled out a sheet of paper. "We found a collation between Director Asamizu's visits and the presence of the missing Boomers." He handed the sheet to the Chairman. "This is a list of the 'inspection trips' the director has made in the last thirty-two months. In short, Director Asamizu has visited the maintenance centers under his direction a total of twenty-three times in the last three years. On seventeen of his visits, there were Boomers on our missing list that were in the center at that time."

"How many?"

"Out of the two hundred five Boomers on our list, one hundred thirteen, or about fifty-five percent."

"Indeed?" said Quincy slowly. "And the rest?"

Faust drew another sheet of paper from the folder and gave it to the Chairman. "A list of vid-phone calls Director Asamizu has made to the maintenance centers in the same time period. Please note the ones with the red checkmarks next to them."

Quincy gave the first sheet to Madigan, then scanned the sheet of calls. "The other ninety-two Boomers?"

"Yes Sir. Every single time one of those Boomers came in for repair and refit, there was a vid-call from the Director."

The Chairman handed Madigan the second sheet of paper. The lavender-haired woman skimmed it, then handed both sheets back to Faust. "It's not enough," she said bruskly.

The Special Assistant nodded as he replaced the sheets inside the folder. "I realized that. So, using the Chairman's authority, I accessed
the Director's finances."

Madigan frowned, but Quincy said, "Proceed, Mr. Faust."

Faust pulled several sheets of paper from the folder and handed it to the Chairman. "This is a copy of Director Asamizu's fiances for the last four years. Please note the low level of his balance for the first fifteen months."

Quincy read through the pages slowly. He stopped at a line in the second sheet. "Interesting," he murmured. He scanned several more lines. "Ms. Madigan, what was the percentage of the wage increase GENOM gave their senior middle management over the last four years?"

The lavender-haired woman though for several seconds before replying. "Three percent every year."

The Chairman nodded. "Either Director Asamizu has begun to live like a monk, or he is earning far beyond his salary." He handed the sheets to her. "As Mr. Faust said, look at the first year and a quarter, then compare it to the rest."

After two minutes of reading, Madigan leaned back in her chair. "He must be embezzling," she said softly, her voice tinged with anger.

"We checked into that," replied Faust. "But the deposits into Director Asamizu's account always occurred two to three days after he visited or
called a service center when a missing boomer was in."

Quincy leaned back in his chair, allowing the shadows to hide his face. "Any idea where the money is coming from?"

Faust frowned. "Our preliminary reports indicates that the funds have come from at least six banks, including two owned by GENOM. We are
attempting to trace the deposits right now."

"Very well, Mr. Faust. Continue your investigation. You are dismissed."

Faust turned and walked to the door. As he reached for the door handle, the Chairman said, "I remind you not discuss this matter with anyone outside of this room, with the exception of your team."

Faust turned and bowed. "I understand completely, sir." He turned, opened the door and went out.

Quincy waited until the door closed before he looked at Madigan. "Your opinion of Mr. Faust's finding?"

"I think he may have found something."

"I agree."

"What do we do about it?"

There was silence for several seconds, then the Chairman said, "I suggest that Director Asamizu should be asked to come in and discuss
the matter."

Madigan straightened in her chair. "When?"

"Immediately, of course."

"But if we bring him in, we might lose the others involved in this scheme."

"Only if they know that he's been brought in." A thin hand reached out and tapped several keys in the desk's built-in computer keyboard. "According to our records, Director Asamizu lives in the GLAS condominium complex in district 2." He looked over at Madigan. "There's a number of construction projects in that area, and at least three of them are behind schedule. It's possible that those three are desperate enough to overwork their construction Boomers beyond their recommenced time periods."

"Such a foolish thing could result in a Boomer Rampage," replied Madigan seriously.

Quincy nodded. "In that case, I suggest that you extend that invitation to Director Asamizu before a Boomer rampage occurs and we lose the chance to discuss this with him."

Madigan stood. "I'll extend the invitation personally, Sir."

"Very well. One other thing."

"Sir?"

"Mr. Faust has no need to know about our discussion with Mr. Asamizu."

"I understand sir."

"You may go."

Quincy waited until the door shut behind Madigan before he turned his chair around and stared out into the city below.

**********