Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Black Knights, Steel Hearts ❯ Chapter 41

[ 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. Serious CandC 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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Chapter 41

Gulf and Bradley Biomechanical Research Institute
Sunday, December 23, 2035
5:22am

The security boomer was hit with a wave of heavy machine fire, lasers, and gauss needles that turn the killing machine into a pile of broken limbs and spurting yellowish-orange fluid that spattered the walls and floor of the corridor.

The smoke hung in the air of the corridor like a unwilling wraith until it began to disperse. "Is that the last of them?" Skeeter asked, removing the magazine from his machine gun and replacing it with a fresh clip.

"I think so," replied White One. He glanced back at White Three, who nodded. "It looks like we got them all."

"Fine," replied the giant. He looked at the squad that had come down the elevator shaft with them. "All right, spread out and start looking! I want live bodies and undamaged computer systems! You've got five minutes! Move!"

The armed group scattered, leaving Skeeter and the two Black Knights alone in the hall. "Any idea how many more sublevels we're going to have to give the once over?" the gang leader asked, slipping a new grenade into the launcher under the barrel of his weapon.

"If we don't find something on this floor, there's two more under this one," replied White Three."

"Wonderful," the giant muttered. "We didn't find anything on the four sub-levels above this one." He activated his radio. "Gawain Six to Back Door. Status report!"

//Back Door here,// said the squad leader left in charge of the lobby. //No change so far, but we're hearing a lot of noise coming from floors above us. White Two think we've got five minutes before we find ourselves hip deep in mechanized munches.//

"Understood. Is Gawain Five aware of the situation?"

//Affirmative. He's got his team covering as much of the outside as they can manage. Permissions to blow the elevator shafts and stairwells?//

Skeeter closed his eyes. "Only if the boomers use them," he said in a patient tone. "I don't want to burry our only way out of this hole, especially with me in it! Understand?"

//Oh! Er....Affirmative. Just make it quick, Okay? We're beginning to feel like Custer and the Seventh Calvary here.//

"Understood. As soon as Third and Fourth Squads are done with sweeping their sublevels, I'm sending them back up. Are the demolition charges in place?"

//Affirmative. We can flatten this place on your say-so.//

"Good. Gawain Six out." Skeeter drew the bolt of his machine gun back, sending a fresh round into the chamber. "Move it people!" he called out over his radio. "Our back door's about to have some unwelcome visitors who are not going to take 'no' for an answer. Third Squad! Fourth Squad! How much longer do you have until you're finished with your sublevels?"

Suddenly, there was a hiss of superheated air as a laser bolt shot out of a side corridor and slammed into the wall ten meters from the trio. That was followed by several shots and a lot of yelling from several of Skeeter's men.

Skeeter cover the distance in a dozen swift strides. His machine gun ready to fire at any unwelcome targets. "Hosokoawa!" He bellowed, partly into his radio, but mostly to be heard in the hallway. "What the Hell is going on?"

Hosokoawa darted from around the corner the laser had come and looked up at his leader. "We found some live ones in the storage room, Boss," he said hurriedly. 'They must have rigged an extra boomer weapon or two. Nearly took Lankan's head off. As it is, he won't need a haircut for the next month."

"Where's the door?"

"End of the hall. It's the one with the large hole in it."

Skeeter leaned around the corner. The rest of the squad was either prone on the floor or squeezed into doorways that lined the hall. But all had their weapons pointed at the door at the far end of the hall, about thirty meters away. The door itself had a large hole in it about the size of a softball, and about chest high. The door had been an off-green in color before, but there was now more black charring then green to be seen. A mix of burnt ozone and plastic floated along with the thin haze of smoke.

"How do you want to do this?" asked White One. "We don't have time to talk them out!"

"Leave that to me," growled Skeeter. "You in the storeroom! Can you hear me?"

"Yes!" a muffled voice replied. "What do you want?"

"You have a choice! You have five seconds to come up of that storeroom, unarmed and with your hands up!'

"And if we don't come out?"

Skeeter spun so he was standing out in the middle of the hallway. His finger tighten around the trigger of the grenade launcher, sending a round flying down the corridor. The grenade slammed into the ceiling just above the storeroom's door and exploded, bringing down a knee high pile of ceiling tile, concrete, and ruptured piping. "That will happen," the giant shouted. "Only my next round and every round after that will be through the door. You have five seconds."

Skeeter's men, use to their leader's style, were prepared for the demonstration. The people in the storeroom, most who had never fired a shot in anger, were not. After about three seconds, the door was opened violently and the half stunned technicians stumbled out, hands raised, all their faces showing the same terror and uncertainty. There were about a dozen of them, dress in a mix of day clothes and sleepware. Skeeter's troops scrambled forward to take charge of the prisoners.

"An interesting technique," White One remarked.

"There are times to use a scalpel and there are times to use a sledgehammer," replied Skeeter, opening the breech of his grenade launcher and replacing the spent round with a fresh one. "This was a sledgehammer time."

"Assuming these techs have anything to tell us," said White Three.

White One was watching the prisoners as they were quickly searched. Suddenly, he stiffened and stared hard at one of the prisoners. "I want to talk to that man," he said pointing at an older man with a thin mustache and short graying hair.

Skeeter nodded. "Hosokoawa!" he bellowed, pointing at the man White One had picked up. The squad leader nodded in reply, gammed the unprotesting man by the arm and escorted him to the two Black Knights and Skeeter.

White One leaned forward and stared at the man, who was dressed in dust smeared pajamas and a worn bathrobe. "Doctor Richard Mclaren, I presume?"

The man shrank back from the hardsuited figure. "A Black Knight here?" he managed to gasp out. "But why? How?"

"That's no concern of yours Doctor," White One replied cooly

"You know this one?" asked Skeeter.

"One of G and B's top boomer designers until he ran into a small problem with the law over a small matter of manufacturing combat boomers inside the borders of Japan." White One tapped Mclaren in the chest. "The funny thing is, he's suppose to still be in jail."

"I-I was, until the twins decided that they could use me," Mclaren replied shakily. "I wasn't given a choice in the matter."

"Do you know about the shield equipped boomers?"

Mclaren nodded. "That's why they yanked me out of prison. They've had me down here for over two months building the generators and modifying the boomers to carry them."

"For that long?" asked White Three.

"We've only gotten decent design specs in the last several days."

"From where?" asked White One. "Does Carlton Bradley have an R&D lab somewhere?"

"I don't know. Carlton Bradley either sends them over, or delivers the design specs himself. I have no idea where he's getting them from."

"I don't believe him," said Skeeter in a flat voice.

"He could be telling us the truth," White Three said.

"And maybe Quincy is the lead singer in a grunge band," replied the gang leader in a low menacing voice, "but I kind of doubt it." He looked down on the cringing PhD. "I think my people could use some target practice," he said in a cold, still voice.

"It-it's true!" Mclaren stammered. Carlton Bradley was a psychopath, but compared to this dark-skinned giant here and now, Carlton was a minor danger somewhere off in the distance. "They forced me to work on this insane plan of theirs!"

Skeeter let his machine gun dangle by the strap and cracked his knuckles. "On the other hand, I haven't had a chance to practice on a live sparing partner in a while."

Hosokoawa, who was still standing behind Mclaren, shrugged. "Not since Ronnie Yee."

Mclaren's face went white. He should have realized it as soon as he saw him. "You're Karns!" he managed to get out.

"I see you've heard of me," Skeeter replied.

"What happened to the Red Cobras was the main topic of conversation in the prison yard for weeks after they were wiped out." Mclaren looked at White One. "I'll tell you anything you want to know, but only if you keep Karns from killing me!"

The gang leader shrugged. "If you want him, he's yours," he said to White One. "But if not," he continued, his expression unreadable, "I'll take him."

"I think our employer will want to discuss this matter with Doctor Mclaren," replied the Black Knight.

"I'll tell him anything he wants to know!" said Mclaren quickly. "I'll call up all the files you want, the schematics for the generator, anything you want!" The mix of Bradley's constant pressure, Mclaren's lack of sleep, the sudden attack, the near miss of the grenade, and the presence of Skeeter Karns had shattered the shell that he had spent months building up while in prison. Right now, a cell somewhere was looking very good right now.

"I'll get started on the downloads," White Three said. She grabbed Mclaren by the arm. "You're coming with me," she said firmly. "I need you to show me the right computers and the to supply the correct passwords. And I will warn you once -- keep your hands to yourself, or you're going to lose them. Your choice." With that, she dragged the shell-shocked doctor away.

"Get them all out of here," Skeeter barked to Hosokoawa. "Then, get the squad to plant as much plastique as they can in five minutes." Hosokoawa nodded and stated barking out orders. The gang leader activated his mike again. "This is Gawain Six to all units. We have what we came for people!" he growled. "Third and Fourth squads -- break off your search and reenforce Back Door. Hold until we join you, our ETA is ten minutes. Gawain Five, stand by to cover our withdrawal. We're halfway home people, but we're not out of the woods yet. Gawain Six, out."

"You certainly scared the shit out of Mclaren," White One remarked.

"It didn't take much," the giant replied.

"I thought he'd have a heart attack when you talked about using him for a punching bag. You almost had me convinced you were serious."

Skeeter looked at him. "Whatever made you think I wasn't serious?"

You mean you would have --"

"Beaten the hell out of him?" Skeeter shrugged. "I doubt I would have to do anything more then grab him by the throat and tell him which bones I would break first before he would have started talking anyway."

"Isn't that a bit...."

"I believe 'barbaric' is the term you're looking for. But my world is made up of almost nothing but barbarians. All they understand is force. Not the 'appearance' of force, not the 'threat' of force, but solid, overwhelming force applied quickly and in the right place. I never make a theat unless I have the means and the will the carry it through to the end. It's the only way I and the people who follow me can survive." Skeeter surveyed the hall. "I'd better get my people moving."

He strode off down the hall, bellowing for Hosokoawa. White One watched him for several seconds before he went after White Three and Mclaren. If Skeeter was going to stick to his timetable, then they have very little time to grab anything more then the most important stuff off the computers. He hoped they had enough time to do that....

**********

Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters
Sunday, December 23, 2035
5:23am

The hallway had fallen strangely silent in the last minute. Both Nene and Red Four were working on defusing the laser charges, while their respective leaders watched them. The medic, with the assistance of a white-face Doctor Kyso, was in the midst of stabilizing the injured VanDell girl. Leon and the last trooper were tasked with guarding the prisoners.

Next to the stretcher, the cryogenic capsule was open, ready to be used. It reminded Sylia uncomfortably of a coffin. The capsule was about seven foot long, dull black in color and its shape was that of a somewhat flatten cylinder. There was a clearfaceplate about where the face would be, and below that a small panel with lights and indicators sat. A series of U-
shaped handles were welded to the lower half of the capsule, allowing it to be carried.

The sound of a nearby explosion made the everyone except the two computer experts to look down the hall. The walls vibrated and a thin layer of dust began to drift down from the ceiling.

"That's not my people," said Knight One softly. The fury that had consumed him before was now under control, but it still had lost none of its strength.

"That sounds like a shell of some type," agreed Sylia. She turned to look at Nene and the Red Four. "How are you two doing?" she asked.

"We're making progress," Nene replied. "They didn't take the time to integrate the wiring and programming into the normal security systems, but they did add a lot of redundancy that we're going to have to hack through."

"You're running out of time."

"We know. It'll be close, but I think we can make it."

Another explosion, closer this time, echoed through the hall. The prisoners shifted uneasily and even Leon and the other MALCORP trooper looked nervous. Kyso and the medic continued working.

There was a series of small explosions, mixed in with gunfire, that seemed to be very close by. Sylia and Greg looked at each other.

"I don't like this," said Greg, glancing up and down the hall. "It's --"

Sylia caught a flash of brown and tan at the far end of the hall. Even as her arm came up and began tracking, she recognized the silhouette. "BOOMER!"

Leon and the other unarmored trooper, both veterans, dropped without hesitation. Knight One was only a split second behind White Saber, but he fired first. Sylia and the others were a close second, even as the boomer, a BU-12 commando, raised it's own weapon to fire. Lasers and armor-piercing bullets struck it, sending sparks and miniature explosions across the boomer's entire body.

Sylia heard someone behind her yell, "Drop!" and she threw herself down just assomething was fired from behind her and flew over her head. The projectile struck the staggering cyberdroid and immediately, the sparks became compact balls of lightning that began to play across the armored skin. With several small explosions that shredded several sections of its
body, the BU-12 fell over.

"Everyone all right?" Red Four asked from the doorway of the storeroom, the muzzle of his rifle still pointed in the direction of the downed boomer.

"We're fine," snapped Knight One. "Get back to the cracking that self-destruction system."

"Right." Red Four popped back inside the storeroom.

Sylia stood up slowly. "There's going to be more of them," she said.

//Red Two to Knight One,// said a voice over the common channel. //We've got problems.//

"We've got boomers on this floor," said Greg.

//I take it you already know.//

"We just ran into one. He isn't getting up anytime soon."

//Sorry. They came through a hole in the wall and almost into out laps before we knew it. We got caught up in a 'mad minute' and took down two of his buddies, but we're expecting more guests in the near future. Those new boomers of Bradley's are slowing down GENOM's combat boomers, but their shields can't handle the firepower that Quincy's machines are putting out.//

"In that case, forget the elevators and secure the stairwell. We're out of here as soon as Janie is stable and in the capsule."

//Right. We're heading for the staircase right this second. You'd better boogie ASAP, Bro. I'm beginning to loose track of who's side we're on.//

"The same side we've always been on, the side of the angels."

//Well, the next time you talk to them, ask for more warning next time we have to fight the minions of darkness. This mission is playing havoc with my holiday plans.//

"I'll tell them. Get going."

//On our way. Red Two out.//

"Okay!" shouted the medic. "She's stable enough to be moved!"

Nene stuck her head out the door of the storeroom. "We've shut down the self-destruct devices!" she said excitedly, "And opened the door!"

"They're too far away for us to go after," Sylia reminded Greg.

"I know, but that doesn't make it better." Knight One motioned towards the girl on the stretcher, letting some of the hate rise into his voice. "For now, I'll have to settle getting her back to her mother and make sure that she'll have the best medical care she can get. But the Bradleys will pay for this. . . brutality, even if I have to do it myself. That is a promise."

"What about the prisoners?" Leon asked.

Greg looked at the blue-and-pink Saber. "You said the door to the escape staircase is open?"

Nene nodded. Greg looked at the prisoners. "You have two minutes to get down that staircase," he said in a cold voice. "After that, all bets are off."

Given a glimmer of hope, none of the Gulf and Bradley employees wasted the chance. Like a pack of frighten lemmings, they charged into the storeroom, past the two hardsuits and into the stairwell. The last one into the storeroom was Doctor Kyso. She stopped and turned to face the two leaders. "I'm sorry it came to this," she said softly.

"I'd advise you to find another position," replied Knight One in the same cool voice. "The Bradley twins are walking dead, as is anyone who is still allied with them."

Kyso nodded, a intermingling of fear and sorrow on her pale face. "Only two things stopped me from resigning before this," she said. She motioned to Janie. "One was that girl. There was no way in hell I could have looked at myself in the mirror if I'd walked out on her." she sighed. "The second reason is more mundane -- If I had tried to resign, Carlton Bradley would have killed me."

"You've been given a second chance," said Sylia. "Don't waste it."

"I'll give it my best shot. Good-bye and good luck." With that, she strode through the door and into the stairwell.

"Can you lock the door again?" Knight One asked Nene.

"No problem."

"Do so. Make sure those devices stay dead. I'm sure the police would love to see another example of the twin's disregard for life other then their own."

"Right!" Nene disappeared back into the storeroom.

"I'm going to need help putting her into the capsule," said the medic.

Leon and the other trooper moved over to the stretcher and under the medic's supervision, lifted her off the stretcher and into the capsule. The medic closed the capsule's lid, secured it, and with some trepidation, he pressed a large red button on the side of the unit. The unit hissed and the small clear faceplate in the lid became thick with frost. After about five seconds, the hissing stopped and the medic checked the small panel just under the faceplate. "She's stable," he said after ten seconds. "We can move her now."

"All right," said Knight One. "How many do you need to carry the capsule?"

"We can get by with three for the short haul."

The leader of the Black Knights motioned to the trio not wearing hardsuits. "You three carry the capsule." he looked at Sylia. "Do you want point, or rear guard?"

"Rear guard," the White Saber answered.

"Funny, I had the same thought."

Red Four and Red Saber came out of the storeroom. "All fixed," the Saber member of the pair said. "Nothing short of explosives will open that door now."

"Good. I want you two to take point, while Me and White Saber will take the rear guard. Red Two and the rest of our group will meet us at the stairwell. I want scanners on full and expect trouble. We've come too far to become lazy now."

"Right, Boss," said Red Four

The pair started up the hall at a quick jog. The MALCORP troopers reached down, each grabbed a handle built into the and lifted the heavy unit. At a quick walk, they lugged the life support unit in pursuit of the point people. After several seconds, Greg and Sylia started after them. As they stated out, Greg opened the common channel. "Knight One to Red Two. We're on our way."

**********

Doctor Yin Zin-Choon was feeling something he hadn't experienced in years -- Fear.

He crouched in a empty office, five stories above the ongoing battle in the street, watching the fight with some dread. The boomers attacking the building, Zin-Choon guessed that were from GENOM, were in turn attacked by other boomers that had appeared out of nowhere.

The Doctor didn't wonder where the second group of boomers had come from. His knowledge of technology outside of his field was limited, but he knew why the Bradleys had hired him and he recognized the possibilities with this new technology. But a look outside told him that the technology applications were still in its early stages. Even with the element of surprise and some sort of shielding, the new Gulf and Bradley's boomers were being destroyed by the heavier armed combat boomers. Still, the GENOM boomers were suffering losses themselves and the fewer boomers left, the greater the chance of escape.

Zin-Choon watched the battle in silence, his mind working on a possible escape plan. The last twelve hours had turn an interesting, if somewhat unusual, case of information retrieval into a complete and all-out disaster. He'd been getting ready for the next interrogation session with the VanDell girl when the attacked started. A couple of phone calls before the internal lines went dead had failed to get hold of either Carlton Bradley or his sister. Under the circumstances, getting out of the building as quickly as possible was the prudent thing to do. So, he'd left and tried to escape the battle.

But getting out was difficult, Between the fires, explosions, and the boomers of both sides shooting at anything moving, regardless of affiliation, a simple task had become a nightmare. Armed with only a small automatic, Zin-Choon knew if he met any boomers, he'd die.

Still, he might cheat death yet again. The GENOM boomers were now concentrating on the immediate threat of the Gulf and Bradley boomers. If luck was with him, he could get out. Which what he had in his briefcase, he might not only come out alive, but well-paid to boot.

He reached down and caressed the briefcase. He had always been a careful man, careful not to make a final report until he was sure the subject had told him everything of value. Janie, by slashing her wrists, had delayed the final session, but she had said enough. Zin-Choon had delayed telling Carlton anything important until he was certain the girl had told him everything, but the information he had already sifted from her mind was still valuable.

With the record of the transcripts he had in the attach‚, any Megacorps would save months of research, months saved that they would be willing to pay for. GENOM would, for one, as would the main branch of Gulf and Bradley. Maybe even MALCORP....

Zin-Choon didn't care about the consequences, money being more important then vague ideas like 'responsibility' and 'accountability'. All he did was supply the data asked for by his employers. He had no say on what they did with the data or how it was used after he had turned it over to them, and he frankly didn't care. He was a retriever of information, not someone who would act upon it.

A 125 millimeter shell slamming into the office two doors down from his current location told the Doctor it was time to move. He went to the office door with a swiftness that belie his age, and carefully open the door. The hallway was empty. Seizing his chance, he stepped out into the hall and started down the corridor.

It was then that Fate, or an unseen hand of vengeance, made itself known.

Doctor Yin Zin-Choon was ten meters away from the office door when a pair of tan-and-brown BU-12 boomers came around the corner in front of him. Even as the shock of the sudden appearance flashed through the human's mind, a trio of GBS-33 came charging down the corridor from the opposite direction.

The two sets of boomers, while operating under different protocols, had very much the same set of instructions: search for and destroy the enemy. In the case of the Gulf and Bradley boomers, they were operating under the Zeta Protocols, which turned the boomers into psychopathic killers of everything and everyone in and around the building with the exception of their own model. The GENOM boomers, on the other hand, were following their own programming with some updated priorities to take in account certain members of the Gulf and Bradley leadership. However, Doctor Yin Zin-Choon was not one of those in the GENOM boomers' memory.

To be fair to the boomers, both sides were targeting the other boomers when they opened fire. But they had neglected to consider the human between them as nothing more then a minor obstacle between them and the real targets. The corridor filled with laser and bullets as each side tried to erase the other through sheer firepower.

Caught between the two sides and that much firepower, Doctor Yin Zin-Choon could only do one thing -- he died. For a brief instance, he felt much of the pain he had dealt out over the years, as lasers and bullets tore into his body, but the time passed and so did the doctor's life. In a matter of seconds, the only thing left of the torture specialist was a shattered, charred corpse. The briefcase he had carried was nothing more then a burnt lump of ash, it's contents destroyed.

Heedless of the Doctor's gruesome death, the two sides continued to blaze away at the other side. Two of the GBS-33 fell quickly, smoke and fluids pouring out of every tear in their armor, but the third hung on long enough to fire a shot that amputated the right arm of one of the BU-12s. The blistering return fire from the two BU-12's annihilated the last GBS-33.

As soon as the last Gulf and Bradley boomer fell, the two GENOM boomers stopped firing and scanned the hallway. Satisfied that there were no more threats present, then moved on, continuing their programed mission....

**********

Near Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters Building
Sunday, December 23, 2035
5:26am

The tunnel was narrow and for the most part, dark. The only light came from the flashlights that all three escapees carried. The Boomer bodyguard lead the way, followed by Cora, with Carlton brining up the rear, occasionally looking back over his shoulder for any signs of pursuit. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, but compared to what was behind him, it was a minor thing.

The stairwell had connected to a sub-basement that, in turn, lead to this tunnel. The tunnel itself ran adjacent to the sewers for a couple of kilometers before it would lead to an underground garage and escape vehicles. But while the tunnel was separate and had no direct access to the sewers, the smell somehow permeated through the walls and into the tunnel. The Boomer bodyguard assured his charges that the air, while foul smelling, was still breathable.

"How long before those charges go off?" Cora asked, her voice echoing in the tunnel.

Carlton glanced at his watch. "Another minute," he said.

"Are we far enough away?"

"I think so. We are well outside the blast radius." He addressed the boomer. "Jiro, how long before we reach the garage?"

"A minimum of another ten minutes at out current rate of speed, Sir," the boomer replied.

"Pick up the pace."

"Yes Sir." The boomer immediately began to walk faster, forcing the Bradley twins to pick up their own pace. The floor of the tunnel, dry and free of any mold or mildews, echoed with the increased tempo.

They walked along in silence until Carlton said, "Stop."

Cora turned to look at her brother. "What's wrong?" she asked.

The charges should have gone off by now."

Cora frowned. "Maybe we're too far away to hear them."

"But we should have felt them, at the very least."

"Do you think the Sabers and Knights stopped the charges going off?"

"A disturbing but very real possibility."

"They could have gotten the door open too."

"True." Carlton looked at the bodyguard. "Jiro, how far are we from the garage?"

"Approximately seven hundred meters, Sir."

"Good. I want you to go and secure the garage for us. Make sure it has not been compromised. If it has not, prepare the best of the escape vehicles, then come back to us. If it has been compromised, scout out the situation and come back to us for further orders. You are not to initiate combat unless there is opposition and you have been seen by them. Do you understand your orders?"

"Yes Sir."

"Then go."

The boomer turned and started down the tunnel, moving quicker then it had before. Cora and Carlton followed at a slower pace, but still quicker then before. In a matter of minutes, the illumination from the boomer's flashlight had vanished in the darkness.

"I wish we had mined the tunnel too!" Cora hissed. "We could have dropped it on their heads!"

"No use crying over spilt milk," Carlton said easily. "Even if they managed to open the door to the stairwell, we have too great a lead for them to catch us now."

"I hope you're right. We can't let this go unpunished, brother. We must have our revenge."

"And we will, but here and now is not the place and time for it. We must escape first, then we can strike at a time and place of our own choosing."

The conversation died after that, as both concentrated on reaching the safety of the garage.

**********