Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Bubblegum Avatar #1 -- "Tin-Sell City" ❯ Chapter 6 - "And, So It Begins...." ( Chapter 6 )

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

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Chapter 6 - "And, So It Begins...."
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The next several days were quiet ones in the penthouse. The snowstorm was as bad as the weather people had predicted, dropping nearly a third of a meter of new snow. Despite the warmth generated from the heat retaining, steel-and-concrete buildings, the snow stubbornly refused to melt quickly, snarling traffic and generally causing problems. Seeing the trouble, Sylia decided to keep the Silky Doll closed until things got better. The streets and sidewalks were quickly cleaned, but it was still cold and bitter outside.

In Craig's case, the need to go out into the snow covered streets was somewhat stronger. With the exception of the clothes he was wearing, Craig didn't have anything else to dress in. Because of their difference in height and build, nothing Mackie had in the way of clothing would even come close to fitting Craig. So the two males headed off into the frozen city to buy some new wardrobe, using some of Craig's new-found wealth. They returned late in the day with enough purchase to last Craig through the worse of the storm cleanup.

While Craig and Mackie were out, Sylia had taken the opportunity to study the material from the backpack. She had earlier watched all the animated episodes with Mackie, Craig declining to sit in, telling her, "that the last thing you need me to do is flap my beak like a reject from Mystery Science Theater 3000." She hadn't understood what he meant, but decided to wait until after she viewed all the episodes for herself.

She actually ended up watching them twice - the first time to get a feel for the stories, look for anything out of place or suspicious, and try and make sense of what they were telling her. The second time through, she made extensive notes about the people, places, boomer designs, hardsuit notes and any other thing she thought might be useful in the future.

The fanfictions took a little more time to sort through. Sylia read over the stories that Craig had pointed out to her, as well as the ones he had told her were 'risque'. The ones labeled as 'Bubblegum Zone' stories were long, rather involved, and Sylia found herself sympathizing with her namesake in those stories. She tried to ignore Ishmael's statement about these stories being real in another dimension, but the fact that another her was dealing with such an enthusiastic character made her uneasy.

After she had read the last lemon story, she leaned back and considered them. After several minutes of thought, she erased the lemon stories and deleted the directory they had been stored in. She was satisfied that Craig had told her the truth about those stories, and the rest of the Sabers were better off not knowing. But there were a few questions she wanted to ask him regarding one particular story, at the proper time....

While she hadn't mentioned the lemon stories, she had talked to Craig several times, on a number of wide-ranging topics. He'd answered her questions about the episodes, filled her in on the more speculative items discussed by fans in his dimension, and explained the major differences between the 'Crisis' episodes and the 'Crash' ones. She did notice that he hadn't told her much more about himself, but they did discuss his conversation with Mackie while Sylia was 'erasing' the lemon stories.

"You heard that?" he had asked, looking guilty.

"I would like an explanation," she'd replied. "Mackie's down at Raven's garage, so you don't have to worry about him overhearing."

Craig sighed. "It was the first thing that popped into my head."

Sylia gave him a cool look. Craig gave her a helpless look. "What did you want me to discuss with him? Priss' singing talent?"

"I'm not sure that was any of your business."

"I needed something to keep his attention. About the only thing I could think of is asking about wether or not he wanted to date Nene."

"Nene?"

"They have a lot in common, plus they're closer in age."

"Did you ask Nene about it?"

"Er...no."

"I suggest you stop pursing that. It is none of your business."

Craig hung his head. "Sorry. I just wanted to help."

Sylia had sighed. "I have no objection if Mackie and Nene want to date, but that is their business, not yours. Please stay out of it."

After that, her houseguest had sunk into a quiet depression, like a puppy that had been kicked. When Craig wasn't eating, he was staring out over the skyline of MegaTokyo, watching television, helping Mackie with the hardsuits, or in his room. If asked to do something, he'd do it, then quietly sink back into his depression. Sylia watched him, looking for any sign of stress in him, but he didn't show any. After dinner on the second day, she'd asked him point blank if he was all right. A tight smile and a shake of his head was his reply.

Nene had called later that night. Craig's fingerprints matched a sixty-eight year old American with the same name as his, living in the state of Florida. Deciding to take the identification a step farther, Sylia clandestinely obtained retinal scans and DNA samples from her houseguest and pass them along to Nene. By the evening of the third day, Nene had confirmed the match.

"Either he's a clone, or he's in excellent shape of someone nearly seventy," Nene had told Sylia over the telephone. Both were using sophisticated scrambling devices to prevent anyone listening in on the conversation. As the devices were a common item in the city their use wouldn't cause any undue comment.

Sylia shook her head. "It just confirms some things Ishmael told me. I want you to put together a background for him in case anyone is looking for him."

"Right!" the perky redhead had replied, and signed off.

After several minutes of thought, Sylia called Linna. "We start training him tomorrow."

**************

Linna had shown up at the penthouse at a quarter to six in the morning.

Sylia met her at the front door, fully dressed and looking relaxed. "He's still asleep," she said quietly.

The dancer was dressed in a sweatsuit, and looked eager. "Have you told him?"

Sylia shook her head. "I thought you could break it to him yourself."

Linna smiled. "I think I'll go wake him up."

"There's a sweatsuit about his size on the bureau in the guest room. Don't try and kill him on the first day."

"I'll try not to. Where are you going?"

Sylia shrugged. "I have some paperwork down in the store I have to complete before I open the store today."

"Is that the only reason you're sneaking out early?"

"It's one of them," Sylia admitted blandly. "I also don't want to appear to be hovering over your shoulder as you start training him."

"I'll have to see what I have to work with first." Linna though for a moment. " I think a few laps around the building, then some stretching and some light sparing should tell me most of what I want to know. After that, I can start putting together a program for him."

"I'll leave you to it then."

**************

Linna open the door to the guest room. The soft snoring permeated the room. Her student laid on the bed, flat on his back, hands on his stomach. Wearing pajamas and buried under a pair of thick blankets, he looked peaceful.

The dancer smiled evilly. "Wake up!" she said in a cheery tone, her English carrying more of an accent then Sylia's did. She leaned against the door jam and watched him awake.

"Huh? What?" Craig grumbled, eyes rapidly blinking. He turned his head to look at Linna bleary. "What?"

"I said it's time to get up."

Craig looked over at the clock on the nightstand. "Do you know what time it is?" he asked her in a pained tone.

"Five minutes later then it should be. Get up and meet me outside in ten minutes."

"Outside what?"

Linna sighed. It was becoming clear why Sylia had left the waking up of their newest member to her. "Outside the building."

Craig sat up. "Its cold out there!"

"So? A few laps around the building should warm you right up."

"Laps? Around the building? In the cold?" From the tone of his voice, Linna knew what he thought of the idea.

"Sylia said it's time to start your training."

"Couldn't you pick a better hour for this, say, noon?"

"Nope." She picked up the blue sweatsuit from the bureau. "You've got ten minutes to get dressed and meet me outside."

"And suppose I don't show up?"

The smile she gave him would have scared a shark. "Then, I come back in, drag you out of here by the heels, down seven fights of stairs and outside, in whatever current state of dress I find you in."

Craig sighed and hung his head. "You win. I'll be there."

"Great. See you in ten minutes."

**************

The paperwork Sylia had to do involving the checking parts of her inventory. After finishing up the inventory check in the storeroom, she moved into the store itself.

She was near the front door when she caught a flash of green out of the corner of her eye. She glanced up in time to see Linna jog past. The dancer disappeared around the corner of the building. Five seconds later, Craig appeared, puffing along at a slower pace. Sylia watched him jog around the corner, then went back to her counting.

Several more times, Linna jogged past the store, followed by Craig. After about the third time, Sylia would pause her inventory and began counting the seconds between Linna's disappearance and Craig's appearance. After about the third lap, she realized that Craig was losing ground to Linna. Four laps later, they both came into view, Craig looking like he was ready to drop, while Linna jogged backwards, having no problem with keeping up with her partner's plodding pace. The dancer waved cheerily to Sylia, who watched the sight with an amused expression. Craig continued to slog on, his sight fixed on a point about two meters in front of him. They disappeared around the corner and Sylia shook her head.

About ninety minutes later, Linna appeared out of the storeroom. "We're done for the day," she said cheerfully. There was a slight bruise on her right cheek, but she looked alert and pleased with herself.

Sylia looked up from her paperwork. "Where is he?"

"Probably soaking in the bathtub, assuming he managed to crawl into the bathroom." At Sylia questing glance, Linna continued. "Those were almost his exact words."

"Your assessment?"

"He needs a lot of work. He's fit, but not combat fit. A couple or three months should take care of that."

"His martial arts skill?"

"Mentally, it's there. He's clearly have some training, but he's sloppy and not sharp. He's definitely a defensive fighter, preferring counters, joint locking, and trapping techniques." She tapped the bruise on her cheek. "He caught me with a blind spinning backfist. Surprised him as much as it did me."

"Was he shamming any?"

Linna shook her head. "He wasn't. He was doing too many things wrong to be faking it."

"Good. He's checked out every other way. How long will it take to put together a training program for him?"

"I'll work on a fitness program for him today and make sure he gets it before tomorrow." Linna tilted her head. "Have you figured out his role yet?"

The leader shook her head. "I have a few ideas, but nothing definite yet."

"Maybe you should discuss this with the others before you make any decisions."

"I may do that." Sylia considered something for a moment. "What is your personal opinion of him?"

"A bit on the quiet side," Linna replied. "He's trying to hide the fact he's scared and is very uncomfortable in dealing with us."

Sylia nodded. "I think we may have to all help him get up to speed on everything."

"It's not a problem with me. I can always use a new sparring partner."

"Nene can teach him about the current state of computer technology and Mackie's already started him with the hardsuit maintenance."

"What about Priss?" asked Linna. "What can she teach him?"

"Motorcycle riding."

The dancer giggled. "Is that a good idea?"

"She wanted to keep an eye on him, so she can help us."

"What are you going to tech him?"

"How to be a Knight Saber, what else?"

**************
Sylia entered her apartment about lunchtime, in part to get away from the surprising amount of business that had occurred this morning. She also wanted to check up on her houseguest.

She found him standing by the windows, staring out over the city's skyline. A large cup of tea was cradled in his hands. He turned to look at her. "Remember what I said about Linna?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I take it all back. She's an inhuman monster who takes great pleasure in the suffering of others."

"I take it things didn't go well today?"

He walked stiffly over to a chair and slowly sat down. He was wearing another sweatsuit, but his feet were in a pair of battered slippers. "I feel like I was run over again. My bruises have bruises."

Sylia folded her arms. "I hope you're not looking to me for sympathy."

Craig shook his head. "Just grousing."

"If it's any comfort, Linna told me that you're only about three months from being in combat shape."

"So, she has ninety days to either pound me into shape or pound me into the ground? Joy."

"She's not the only one who's going to be helping you get into shape. We're all going to be taking turns getting you caught up with the rest of the world."

"There goes any chance of a good night's sleep," Craig muttered.

"You'll get use to it," Sylia replied. "Would you care for some lunch?"

"I'll get something on my own. Don't worry about me."

"It's no problem."

He rose from the chair. "On one condition - I help you with preparing lunch."

"I can accept that."

**************
The lab was quiet this time of the day - even scientists and their assistants had meal breaks. For Mason, the last three days had been a combination of stunning revelations and tantalizing glimpses of the future. Largo had told him things that shocked him, yet excited him at the same time. The shell Mason had been planning to use for 'rebirth' had been severely damaged in a transport accident, just as Largo had said, right at the time he had said. When Mason had told the damaged superboomer what had happened, Largo simply replied, [For you, this is new. For me, it's history.]

The decision to help Largo had been a difficult one, but one he had to take. He didn't trust the damaged boomer, but most of what he had said made sense to Mason. The superboomer had been right about Quincy's ability to deflect Mason's ambition. The new assignment was a case in point. USSD was working on a trigger relay for the orbital particle satellites, a trigger that could be carried inside a boomer. GENOM wanted the relay for it's own use. Quincy gave the task to Mason -- just as Largo had predicted.

[Yes?] asked Largo. It had taken Mason ten minutes after he'd left Largo that night before he realized that the cyberdroid had spoken to him telepathically. It had been intimidating at first, but Largo assured Mason that while he could project and receive thoughts broadcasted, he couldn't read minds. Still, Mason preferred to speak out loud when talking to Largo.

"I have the assignment."

[Excellent,] Largo purred. [What units are you going to assign to the task?]

"One boomer to infiltrate USSD, and a team of four new C-class boomers to back up the infiltrator."

[And the infiltrator will be a fusion Boomer?]

Mason was stunned. He'd only made that decision five minutes before he came into the lab. There was no way Largo could have know beforehand.

[I see you are surprised at my statement.] Mason could hear the smile in Largo's voice. [It is the same decision I would have made if I was in your position.]

"But how did -"

[I would recommend doubling the numbers of Boomers involved.]

This caught Mason by surprise. "Doubling? But why?"

[Think about it. One of the infiltrators focuses on the retrieval of the actual trigger, while the other one is responsible for securing the design plans. When the time comes, the one responsible for the actual trigger will draw attention away from the second infiltrator. If the plan works perfectly, you will not only have the black box, you will have the plans to build your own.]
"What about the extra boomers?"

[Who will USSD hire to look for the trigger and the infiltrator? The Knight Sabers, of course. See it as an opportunity to use.... 'executive discretion' on your part.]

"A trap for the Knight Sabers?"

[Or as a gauge of their abilities. In fact, why not have a series of boomer rampages to test the Saber's mettle? An accurate enough picture of their skills and abilities would make them that much easier to defeat.]

Mason thought about it for a moment. "I'll take that idea under advice," he said.

[Consider it carefully.]

"I will." Mason glanced at his watch. "It is time that I left. We will talk again."

[I look forward to that.]

Largo watched Mason leave. His visual sensors were only moderately damaged now, thanks to what was left of his self repair systems, but there was no way they could repair the massive damage he'd suffered. My next move is convince Mason to have me rebuilt, he thought to himself. But not until he is convinced I can do more for him than I can now.

He didn't trust Mason, and he knew Mason didn't trust him. He had withheld information for the human, like the fact he had once been Brian J. Mason in another time and place, or his real goal of reclaiming his godhood on the bodies of those who had denied his greatness. Only the mission of destroying the Knight Sabers had drawn them together, and once that was done, their alliance would fall apart quickly.

Unless the other side's Avatar changes the odds. The being that had brought him here had also informed him that the other side had slipped a person into this time to oppose him. He had also kept that from Mason, mostly for his own amusement. But beyond the fact that there was another Avatar sent to oppose him, his benefactor could not determined who or where they were. Probably with Sylia Stingray, he thought.

He tried stretching his awareness beyond the cylinder. Either by accident or design, Largo had no direct access to the computers around him. He'd tried to worm his way into the system, but had been rebuffed by the system security programs. He continued, carefully probing and prodding. He hadn't succeeded yet, but he was patient. He had time and a plan. He could afford to be tolerant....

**************

Sylia had called a meeting for late that night to lay out Craig's training plan. They were all there, including Craig, sitting around the living room. They discussed the matter in English, so as not to alienate their newest member.

Everyone had accepted their roles with the exception of Priss. She divided her glare between Craig and Sylia. "Why?" she asked, her accent thicker then Linna's.

"I can't sing," replied Craig smartly, which resulted in the singer increasing the glare she directed at him. Nene giggled and even Sylia smiled at Priss' anger.

"A motorcycle would be more useful to him at the present time," replied Sylia. "He's going to have to learn how to ride on sooner or later."

"I can get a bike together in about a week," said Mackie. "Add another week to work out all the kinks."

"Is something wrong?" Linna asked Craig, watching his expression change to one of unease.

"I'm not a big fan of two wheel vehicles."

"Priss can teach you!" chirped Nene. "She's a speed demon, but she's a good teacher!"

Priss flopped back into her chair and looked at Sylia. "I still don't trust him."

"Why not?' asked Nene, her English almost as smooth as Sylia's.

"We're suppose to believe he's from another dimension?"

"What other proof would you like?" asked Sylia mildly. "Ishmael's wasn't a normal human, nor was he a boomer. Even you have to acknowledge that."

"It was a trick of some type," Priss muttered in Japanese.

"It wasn't a trick," replied Sylia, also in Japanese. "Besides, it isn't Craig's fault he's stuck here. Let us make the best of it."

"All right," Priss said in English. "I'll teach him."

"Good. Now all we -" Sylia was interrupted by a soft beeping coming from the computer.

Nene got and went over to the machine. "There's something on the ADP channels," she said after a few seconds and keyboard strokes.

"A Boomer rampage?" asked Linna.

Nene nodded. "There's at least a dozen construction Boomers rampaging through the heart of district seven. Casualties are already into double figures."

"Damn it!" snarled Priss. "Are we going to sit here, or are we going to smash some boomers?" Sylia thought he heard Craig mutter something like 'Neo-luddite' but didn't ask him what he meant.

"I think we're needed." Sylia stood, followed by the others. Craig stated to stand, by Sylia shook her head. "You stay here."

"But -"

"Not this time."

"Do you want us to go ahead?" asked Linna in English.

"Go," replied the leader of the Knight Sabers. "I'll be along in a minute."

Craig waited until the others had left before he sighed and slumped back into his seat. "Can I at least come along as far as the garage and wave bye-bye?" he said sarcastically.

It was then that Sylia realized that she'd hurt his feelings. He sounds like a five year old! She thought to herself. "We're still getting you up to speed on everything," she replied carefully. "Right now, you would be more of a hindrance then a help to us."

"I suppose you're right," said Craig softly, "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Sylia took a deep breath. "Once you're in training, we'll start working you into the operations. Right now, I need to learn to follow orders. I am ordering you to stay here."

"All right. I promise to stay here, in this building, where I can nurse my shattered ego in piece and quiet. Fair enough?"

"You can help Mackie prep the truck for action."

Craig stood up. "Whee," he remarked, disappointment clinging to the word. "I'll make sure Mackie has the truck running hot and his hormones running cold." At Sylia's disapproving look, he shrugged. "Would you prefer that you and the other Sabers were being drooled over like centerfolds in a skin magazine?" He smiled. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

For a moment, Sylia had an image of a tall redheaded guy with a grin that said, 'Trust me, I know what I'm doing!' She rubbed her temples, resisting the urge to groan. He did that on purpose! "We'd better get going," she said, trying to sound decisive and almost succeeding.

"Coming, Boss."

**************

The Knight Sabers returned from combat two hours later.

The battle had been long and far ranging, covering several blocks as the construction boomers had scattered instead of staying together. That meant the team had to split up in order to hunt down the boomers, and that took time. The boomers, slow and carrying no internal weapons, were still tough and strong, and killing them was a drawn-out process. The final tally, if anyone was really keeping count, was the Knight Sabers seven boomers, the ADP five.

The four women walked towards the changing room, while Mackie parked the truck. All four had removed their helmets, and were in no hurry to change. The didn't speak much, the result of being tired and over the adrenaline rush that combat bought.

Linna stretched slowly. "I could sleep for a week," she murmured.

"Same here," replied Nene, her eyes half opened and looking weary.

"From what, little Miss Cyberpunk?" Priss asked sharply, stopping and turning to look at the redhead. "All you did was stand there and supply ECM support."

"You think it's easy running ECM?" replied Nene angrily, stopping herself and glaring at the singer.

"It has to be easier then taking out Boomers."

"Oh yea?"

"Yea."

"Enough," said Sylia quietly, stepping between the two of them. "Both jobs are tough, and this isn't the time and place to debate their merits."

Linna pushed past the other three and walked into the changing room. The arguing pair glared at each other, with Sylia shifting her gaze between the two. After about five seconds, Linna leaned out into the hall. "Could you guys come here?"

"What is it?" asked Sylia.

"You have to see this," the dancer replied.

The three of them, the confrontation forgotten for a moment, walked into the changing room. In the center of the room, a small table had been set up. On the table was a plate of sandwiches, and a pitcher with four glasses.

The four stared at the sight of food and drink for several seconds. Sylia walked over to the table and picked up a folded sheet of paper. She unfolded the sheet and began reading. As she read it, she noted it was typed, with a signature in bright blue ink.

Sylia,

Since I was stuck here, twiddling my thumbs, I thought I'd do something
useful. Here's something to revive your strength, though you have to get a better
selection of foodstuff into your kitchen. The drink is non alcoholic, as some
people have to drive home. Enjoy!

Craig

PS - I suggest that you and the others check the changing room for cameras.
Mackie looked real pleased with himself before you left.

Nene picked up a sandwich and looked at the contents. "I think it's grilled cheese." she took a bite out of it. "It is grilled cheese."

Linna poured a gloss of the drink and sipped from it. "Fruit punch," she stated.

"No beer?" asked Priss, looking grumpy.

Sylia handed her the note. The singer scowled as she read the note, then looked at her leader. With a shrug, Sylia gave her a glass of fruit punch. "He does had a point about the driving home."

"I don't need a mother."

"Maybe not, but I suggest that we take a look around for what he talks about in his postscript before we change."

It took them ten minutes to find the two cameras, carefully hidden away. Nene, munching on a sandwich, found the first camera in a corner of the shower. Sylia found the other tucked behind a slightly out-of-place ceiling panel. The mood in the room became chilly as the four of them stared at the cameras sitting on the table.

"How do we know Mackie did this?" asked Priss. "Craig could have done this."

"And then tell us about it before we change?" counted Linna.

"It could be a ploy."

Sylia sighed. "I believe Craig."

"That's good enough for me," said Nene, her expression dark. "I think it's time we had a talk with Mackie."

"I agree," Linna chimed in.

"We can ask Mackie about this tomorrow," said Sylia. "For now, I suggest we get take showers, change, and get some sleep."

**************

It was twenty minutes later when Sylia entered the apartment. The penthouse's interior was mostly dark, with only the dim light of the city's skyline keeping it from being pitch-black.

She sighed. It had been a exhausting mission, a series of short fights alternating with rooftop sprints and alley-crossing jumps. She was somewhat bruised and tired, she wasn't as alert as she should have been.

"Everything all right?' asked a voice out of the darkness.

Surprise overcame her for a brief flash, until her mind put a name to the voice. "What are you still doing up?" she asked, trying not to sound rattled.

"Ish forgot to tell you one thing about me," Craig replied, standing up from the chair he'd been sitting in. In the dim light, he was barely more then a shadow. "I've always been a bit of a night owl. Late nights and early mornings are very familiar to me."

"I see. Any reason why you're sitting in the dark?"

"It helps me to think." He picked up something off the table next to the chair. "Er...Would you like some herbal tea before going to bed? I have some hot water on the stove."

"No, thank you. I think I better get to bed right now, and so should you."

"I suppose so. Good night." he turned and walked towards the guest room.

"Craig?' she said softly.

"Yes?" came the reply.

"Thank you for the sandwiches and fruit punch. They were a welcomed surprise."

"I suppose Priss complained about no beer?"

"Not too loudly. But we found two cameras in the changing room, and she wasn't happy about that."

"I take it Mackie's in trouble?"

"Leave him to me. Thank you for the warning."

"It was the least I could do. I'm glad you like the meal. Good night, Sylia."

She could just make out her houseguest as he disappeared down the hall leading to the guest room. After several minutes, she went to her own room.