Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Bubblegum Avatar #1 -- "Tin-Sell City" ❯ Chapter 12 - "Deja Vu All Over Again...." ( Chapter 12 )

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

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Chapter 12 - "Deja Vu All Over Again...."

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It was a month and a half later when things began to heat up.

By now, Craig was very comfortable in his hardsuit and was ready for his first field mission. Sylia had drilled him relentlessly, making sure he understood the dangers of any mistakes he made. He became an expert shot with the sniper rifle package and more then a fair shot with the other weapons systems. His performance in the field exercises improved, though he was still not up to the levels of the other Sabers - yet. Business had been light for the Sabers, so no opportunities arose to get Craig into the field any earlier.

During this time, the enterprises in the converted warehouse had opened and were doing steady, if not spectacular business. The 'penthouse' was now completely finished and Craig had moved out of Sylia's guest room two weeks after the dinner.

At an invitation-only party to celebrate the opening of the new center, Sylia had been quite surprised that Craig Reed did not show up at the party. Instead, a man who claimed to be representing Craig Reed appeared at the party. Mr. Dimity, as he called himself, was slump-shouldered, medium-length white hair, walked with the aid of a cane, wore oversized dark glasses, was at least twenty kilograms overweight, and spoke in a soft whisper. He apologized to the assembled business owners and guests in passable Japanese for the lack of Mr. Reed's appearance, claiming his employer had some issues to take care of in America. But he hoped that the guests would enjoy themselves anyway.

'Mr. Dimity' spent most of the party sitting in a corner, fielding questions for curious guests about the new business owner that he represented. One of the canine boomers, Zhukov, stayed next to him. Most of the answers he gave were to the same questions: No, his employer was quite young; Yes, he had come by his wealth honestly; No, Mr. Reed was a very private person, and not much of a social mixer; Why settle in MegaTokyo? He wanted to try his hand at running a business on his own, and everyone knows that this city is the most import city on the planet, so why not here? It took a couple of minutes of careful observation for Sylia to confirm her immediate suspicions that it was Craig disguised as this 'Mr. Dimity'. After the party, she had 'accompanied' him up to his new apartment and asked for an explanation.

"Disguise," he'd replied normally, taking off the dark glasses and starting to walk around with no sigh of the limp. The four canine boomers sat and watched the conversation in silence. "A one-time deal for all those people at the party tonight, while the bank and construction people are just about through with my so-called 'personal representative'. I think another week and Mr. Dimity can go home for good."

"This wasn't your first time in this get-up?"

Craig had shaken his head. "The last month, everyone connected to this project of mine had been dealing with Mr. Dimity. Most of the time, I could do the necessary business over the vidphone. If I had to meet someone in person, I made sure it was never here, and kept the meetings short. Most of the actual negotiating has been done by the people you recommended, with me appearing in this get up only as needed."

"What for?" she'd asked him. "Why the disguise at all?"

"To keep a low profile. A newcomer to this city, especially with the amount of money I've got in the bank, would get some people interested. If I go walking around without a disguise, Mason, who's still looking for Bert Van Vliet, might find out and put two and two together and come after me. Officially, I'm still in the US, tying up some lose end before I move here."

"That's a fair explanation."

Craig removed the white wig, reveling his even shorter dark hair underneath. "I don't want that slime ball connecting me to you with anything more then me being a rude dinner guest. For now, I'm a recluse who's going to be rarely seen and even more rarely spoken to, except over the telephone." He stripped off his shirt and removed the padding that made him look overweight. "A man who keeps to himself and is always seems to be away on business trips."

"And why the disguise tonight?"

"I wanted to plant some seeds of disinformation before I'm officially here. Mr. Dimity here," he held up the white wig, "painted a picture of his employer as a secluded man who likes his privacy. The people there tonight won't be offended or suspicious if I turn down invitations to their social gatherings, and I don't plan to make too many public appearances for the first few months. Just enough to reenforce the image in people's minds."

"Won't that make it more difficult for you to move around?"

"I'm in the middle of manufacturing a couple of separate identities that I'm going to use while I'm playing recluse." At Sylia's surprised expression, Craig continued, "I don't want to be tied down to this secluded facade forever, just until I'm sure I can move around without Mason dropping a squad of Boomers on top of me. Having a couple of other identities I can move about the city with will allow me to be active during that time without threatening my cover."

"How long before you're ready to do all this?"

"Two or three weeks from now, me, the introvert, is going to appear, move in here officially and oversee the day-to-day operations of the businesses below us."

Also during those two weeks, the secondary base was set up in the sub-basement. As Mackie had stated, it didn't match the facilities of the regular Saber's bases, but it wasn't suppose to. The workshop, while small, was complete and could most of the things the main bases could do. Sylia's discreet contractors came in and remodeled the sub-basement, adding extra heat and water pipes from the existing lines, as well as some washing facilities. The door leading out into the sewer system was opened and the immediate area around the door explored and a silent alarm system set in place to prevent a surprise from that direction. Enough emergency supplies and basic necessary supplies were brought in to support all the Sabers for three months.

Now came the waiting. Sylia had received reports of a new class of Boomer, the C-class being produced, but had yet to actually face one in battle. The team still practiced, Sylia taking the time and trouble to start training the rest in possible tactics against the new boomer class. Only Craig knew what she was doing, but the others went along with the new training, despite their puzzlement, or in Priss' case, suspicions.

It started on a clear late spring night. Nene was working, Priss was performing, while Linna was in the crowd at the Hot Legs, watching Priss. Sylia was going over some invoices, the scanner behind her tuned to the ADP communication channels. It was then when she heard it.

"Object heading west on 104th street is believed to be either an armored trooper or light mobile armored combat machine."

Sylia's head come up, her memory flashing back to an early scene in the first animated episode. Was that happening now? She reached over, picked up the vidphone and dialed a three digit number.

Mackie picked up the receiver. "Yes?"

"Put the suits on standby. I think 'Tinsel City' is starting." They had agreed that should the events that occurred in the videos start to happen in real life, they would refer to them by the episode name.

"Are you sure?"

"The team members are where they were suppose to be when it started."

"Right. Are you going to call Craig?"

"Right after I finish with you."

Just then, the ADP channel became alive again. "Massive explosion in District 14. Police pursuit vehicles believed to be involved. Request full ADP assistance."

"I'm done." Mackie said quickly, as he could hear the radio through the vidphone. He hung up and Sylia dialed another number, longer, this time.

Craig answered on the third ring. "Yes?" he asked, looking eager.

"'Tinsel City' has started."

"I'm on my way."

*********

Craig arrived ten minutes later on his motorcycle. He parked it and entered through a side door into the building. He came into the hardsuit storage room in at a quick jog. Sylia was waiting for him there.

"Anything more?' he asked, removing his jacket and picking up his innersuit from a nearby shelf .

Sylia shook her head. "The only thing that's happened since I've talked to you is that the boomer took down one of the ADP's Firebees."

"Do we have a location?"

"Right now, they think it's in District 34."

Craig removed his shirt. "Fine. I'll meet you down at the truck in five minutes."

"Right." Sylia turned and strode out of the room.

Craig finished changing into his innerware, and went over to the frame that held his hardsuit. He noticed that instead of the bazooka, the sniper system was lying on the cart next to his suit. "That tells me where I'm going to be," he murmured.

He stepped into his suit like he had dozen of times before, the moves now swifter and more sure. The lower section locked into place, then the upper section. He picked up the sniper weapon and maneuvered into place on his shoulder until he heard it lock into its position. A push of a button on the weapon itself retracted the barrel and handholds into itself before the entire system pivoted up and away, so it hung on his back He then put on his helmet and waited until the HUD came on-line. Once he could see, he then picked up all three magazines and started for the garage.

*********

Sylia drove the Silky Doll truck, while Craig and Mackie sat in the back. Mackie was monitoring the ADP channels. "It's not going well for the ADP," he announced grimly. "They're not slowing down the boomer at all."

"We'll be at the Hot Legs in five minutes." Sylia replied.

"What's the plan?" Craig asked.

"Once we pick up Linna and Priss, you and Priss are going after the Boomer on your motorslaves."

Craig glanced back at the large black motorslave in its cradle and took a deep breath. The machine still scared the hell out of him. It was a Hurricane class motorslave, somewhat larger and heavier then the other motorslaves to accommodate his extra mass. He could ride it, but he wasn't the natural rider Priss was. "Okay," he said slowly.

"Priss is going to go after it directly. I want you to parallel Priss in case the boomer does something unexpected. Linna with parallel Priss on the other side. Once we've got it close to the canyons, I want you to head for the top of one of the buildings overlooking the battle and keep an eye out for any surprises."

"Aren't I going to be conspicuous in this outfit and on that bike?" He glanced back at the bike again, his eyes falling on the long barrel of the machine gun attacked to the bike's frame. "Especially with that peashooter attached?"

"As long as you don't hang around or dawdle, no one should get a real good look at you."

Craig exhale deeply. "Okay boss."

"Don't worry about losing your way. Mackie will keep track of you."

"Making sure I don't get lost?"

"Something like that."

The Black hardsuit looked at the younger Stingray, who grinned back at him. A thought suddenly occurred to Craig. "Er...Sylia?"

"Yes?"

"Mackie's going to be in the cab driving when you and the others change back here, right?"

"Yes."

"Where am I going to be?"

There was silence for a long period of time. Finally, Sylia said, "I didn't think of that."

From the expression on Mackie's face, Craig thought the younger Stingray was going to have a nosebleed at that exact moment. "You'd better think of something quick."

"There's no time," Sylia replied. "We're here." Both Craig and Mackie could feel the truck slowing.

"Mackie, is there a blanket around here?"

Mackie frowned. "Above your head. Why?"

Craig stood as the stuck eased to a stop and opened the compartment door above his head. As he did so, he could hear Linna saying to Sylia, "When Priss finds out we're not getting paid for this job, she'll be angry."

Craig stopped, recalling the animated Linna saying those exact same words from the first OVA. If he was right, Sylia would be saying....

"This Boomer is not acting at all like they usually do."

"Tinsel City," Craig muttered and removed the blanket from the compartment.

When Priss and Linna got on board, there was no black hardsuit in sight. But there was something large covered with a blanket sitting in a chair. Sylia, having changed places with Mackie, entered the compartment. She took one look at the blanket covered object and sighed. "I suppose that will work for now," she said.

"What?" snarled Priss, who was angry at being pulled off-stage for a freebie boomer takedown and not really noticing anything wrong at the moment. She unzipped her biker leathers, showing a lot of cleavage, and sat down to take off her boots. "And where is Craig? I though he was suppose to be on this mission!"

Linna took one look at the blanket-draped object and started giggling. Priss looked up at Linna, then glanced at what she was looking at. She glanced down and noticed two black boots peeking out from the edge of the blanket. "You're not serious!"

"Craig's under that?" asked Linna, still giggling.

"Yes," Craig's voice was not only muffled by the blanket, but altered by the vocal filters in his helmet. "Will you guys please hurry up?"

"He can't wait outside because he's already suited up," Sylia said. "And I forgot to take in account his presence when it comes to us changing here on the truck."

The truck got underway, stopping all conversations as they adjusted to the truck moving again "He better not be using his suit's sensor to peep at us!" Priss muttered, glaring at the covered hardsuit.

"I'm not," came the surly reply. "But I don't know why you're complaining, Priss. That outfit you wear on stage doesn't leave very much to the imagination to begin with."

Priss growled and drew her arm back to throw a boot at him, but Sylia grabbed the singer's arm. "I'm sure Craig is being a gentleman," she said in a firm tone. "But I suggest we change quickly in any case."

*********

Ten minutes later, Craig was racing down a deserted side street on his motorslave, listening to the Saber's communications channel with one ear, the speedometer with one eye and watching and listening to the environment around him. He was now running close to two hundred and thirty kilometers an hour, a speed he'd never been at for any length of time, even in a car.

Off to his right, he could see the raised highway that Priss had taken, just a couple of streets over. It was one of those highways that one set of lanes stacked over the other, a design Craig had never liked.. A pair of small choppers raced for the highway, and a sharp crack of a pistol going off was audible. "That's Leon," He muttered, too low for the microphone to pick up.

"I see him!" Priss called out.

"Keep after him," Sylia commanded.

An explosion ripped through the night air as one of the Firebees was destroyed by the boomer. Several seconds later, the other Firebee was shot out of the sky. "The Boomers got a Vulcan from one of the Firebees!" Priss yelled.

Keep after it," Sylia repeated. "I'm in position. Drive him towards me. Craig, Linna, Make sure that boomer stays on the highway."

"Right!"

"Craig," called out Mackie. "I've got an overwatch location for you. Sending you the coordinates now."

Craig read off the string of numbers and compared them to his current location. "I'm about two and a half minutes away," he informed Sylia.

"You've got two minutes to get into position," Sylia's voice was firm.

"Shit!" Craig increased his speed, and flattened himself on the bike even more. He was running close to two and fifty kilometers an hour, making any fancy maneuvering with the bike or even braking quickly impossible. He prayed that nothing would cross his path.

He shot through a couple of intersections, his speed now above two fifty and still climbing. At the next intersection, he saw a the flashing lights of a police car off to his left. Luckily, the vehicle was blocking the street and not moving. Craig thought he saw the shocked face of a police officer staring at him as he went flying by, but he wasn't sure.

"Craig," Mackie said, "Your ETA to your overwatch position is sixty-five seconds. Sylia, ETA of the Boomer to you is fifty-seven seconds."

"The Boomer just increased it's speed!" The frustration in Priss' voice was palpable. "It's pulling away from me, heading right for you, Sylia!"

"Shit," Craig breathed. "I can't get there any faster," he said out loud. "I'm already pushing two sixty."

"Get there as soon as you can," Sylia said sharply.

"The Boomer just crashed through the dead end barriers!" Priss yelled out. "It's slowing, no, damn it! It's beginning to pull away again!"

Off to his right, between the raised highway and his position, the building Mackie had indicated came into sight. Craig slowed his motorslave slightly, giving his assigned position a good look. It was a six-story tall, brick building that had seen better days, and he was approaching it rapidly. There were two other buildings of similar size and appearance, one on each side of the target building.

Craig began to slow the bike. As he did, several small explosions could be heard coming from the raised highway. As he glanced up to see several small balls of flame and smoke rise into the air, he heard Priss yell over the radio, "That son of a bitch just turned around and took a shot at me!"

"I wonder why," Craig muttered, applying slightly more brake. The speed of the motorslave was dropping, the superior braking system giving Craig more control of the bike then he would have had otherwise. He was down to two hundred now, the target building looming as he got closer.

"The boomer slowed down!" Mackie called out, his voice becoming excited with the heat of the action. "Sylia, revised ETA of the boomer to you is forty seconds!"

"I'm coming up on my position," Craig said. "I should be in place by then."

"Do it," Sylia replied bruskly.

The black hardsuit passed the closest of the three buildings, his speed down to one seventy and still dropping. He spotted an alleyway running between the two buildings coming up fast. A quick glance told him that the alley was maybe five meters wide, plenty of space for him and the motorslave. Muttering a prayer, he clamped on the break lever hard, turned the handlebars slightly to the right, and sent the motorslave into a hard skid. The tires screamed in protest as they left streaks of black along the street, and smoke filled the air. Craig's right boot slapped down onto the concrete, adding its own sound and marks to the one already being created by the bike.

While Priss may have not like Craig a lot, when it came to motorcycles, she was a very good teacher. But even with her teaching, if Craig hadn't been wearing a hardsuit and the extra strength and protection it provided, he would have probably had lost control and gone head over heels along with his motorslave. As it was, there was a handful of seconds that had Craig holding his breath, but he hung on grimly. The needle on his speedometer dropped like a stone, as friction acted to slow the bike quickly.

He waited until he was almost even with the mouth of the alleyway before he released the brake and gunned the engine. The large machine shot forward, tires screaming anew as the tires dug for traction on the concrete. Having lost a lot of his forward momentum when he put the bike into a skid, he was able to control the bike as it shot into the alley at a respectable sixty kilometers an hour.

The alley was dirty and littered with trash, but clear of any obstacles or witnesses. Craig slowed the bike down then stopped it. He sprung off the bike and looked up at the rooftops, even as he heard the motorslave morphing into its robot mode. Someone might be tempted to steal a bike, but it would take a real nut to try and confront a fully armed and active motorslave.

Craig activated his jump jet and shot into the night sky, heading for the roof. He cleared the edge by two meters and dropped to the roof. The roof itself was covered with solar panels, heating and cooling vents, satellite dishes and water tanks. "Moving in position now," he called out, dashing through the maze of rooftop objects to the side overlooking the fault.

"We know," Sylia said in a low dry tone. "So does every one else in the district."

Craig reached the side overlooking the Fault, dropped to one knee in the shadows between a pair of vent housings, and slapped the button on the side of the recessed rifle hanging on his back. The weapon dropped into place onto his shoulder and extended the barrel and grips. Craig removed a magazine from the built in pouch on his thigh and rammed it into the magazine well. There was a soft 'kerchunk' as the rifle automatically loaded the first round of the magazine into the firing chamber. He switched his helmet's HUD over to the rifle's targeting program. "I'm in place," he said tightly.

"Remember your orders," Sylia said firmly. "Do not fire unless I order you to, if something goes wrong or if more Boomers attack. You're our back-up in case something goes w rong. Now, stay silent."

"Right." Craig switched his helmet's HUD back to the normal view, but left the targeting program in memory, for instant use.

The Fault ran like a large scar through the city, a natural canon in a man-made forest of structures. Created by the Second Kanto Earthquake, the Fault had become part shanty town, part dumping ground, and part underbelly of the city. Most of the roads that had gone over what became the Fault had never been rebuilt after the earthquake, so more then one highway ended at the Fault.

This area of the Fault was a wasteland, a amalgamation of junk, debris from the earthquake, and other litter. The roadway that had been above the Fault before the earthquake was laying where it had fallen five and half years before, a ribbon of decaying concrete and rusting steel. This area of the Fault was about fifteen meters deep and thirty wide, with sheer walls and uneven footing. A good battleground in that there would be no innocent bystanders to get in the way, but bad because of the footing and the lack of maneuvering room.

"Boomer is twenty seconds away," called out Mackie.

"He's slowing!" Priss yelled.

Craig watched Sylia, who was standing at the edge of the roadway, looking relaxed. He glanced in the direction of the oncoming boomer and saw it. It was a blue blur in the darkness, heading towards Sylia. He called up the targeting program and sighted in on the boomer. Any shot right now would be difficult, but he was just tracking it right now, partly for the exercise, but partly to be ready in case the boomer did something different then it was suppose to.

The boomer roared a challenge and lifted the twenty millimeter cannon it had stolen from the downed Firebee and opened fire. The burst was short and Sylia leaned to the right to avoid the spray of bullets. The boomer increased speed and hurtled towards the end of the roadway, intent on ramming into the White Saber. Craig cursed softly as he tried to keep the Boomer's head in his sights.

Craig was expecting Sylia to react the way she did, but the animation from the series didn't do it justice. The boomer was less then three meters away from her when Sylia launched herself into the air. The boomer shot under her, trying to slow it's forward momentum, but Sylia gracefully twisted in mid-air and slammed a kick to the boomer's back, sending it over the edge of the roadway.

"Craig, follow the boomer down," Sylia said in a cool voice. "I want to know where it lands."

"Right." Craig tracked the failing boomer until it crashed into a rusting pile of steel with enough force to make Craig wince. "He's in a junkpile about ten meters from the roadway. He's going to have to dig himself out first."

"Understood. Linna, where are you?"

"Right behind you," the olive Saber replied. "I should be there in about ten seconds."

"Mackie, What's the disposition of the ADP?"

"I think we've got at least five minutes before they can get anything over to your location."

"I'm coming through!" Priss yelled.

Craig's attention went back to the road edge just in time to see Priss drive off into space. She pushed herself away from her motorslave, and the motorslave quickly changed to its humanoid role. It caught Priss in its arms, and the pair landed at the bottom of the Fault.

"Nice," muttered Craig, switching back to the boomer. The junkpile began moving as the cyberdroid began freeing itself from the steel. "Heads up, old blue face is getting ready for round two!" He focused the sights on the where the boomer's right arm use to be. "Look out!' he called out, "The Vulcan is now fused to the sucker!"

"So?" asked Priss. "He's still scrap metal!"

"Do not engage the boomer by yourself!" Sylia ordered. Both she and Linna leapt into the fault, Sylia touching down to the boomer's right, while Linna landed on the still struggling boomer's left. "This is a new design, so let's not be hasty in attacking it."

Craig targeted the Boomer's head, the crosshairs focused on the boomer forehead. "I have a shot," he said tightly.

"Let us handle it," Sylia replied, as the boomer completely freed itself from the prison of metal scrap.

Craig sighed, but he relaxed. "Understood." he looked back at the roadway. "Look sharp," he said, trying not to smile, "we have an audience."

"Who?" asked Sylia.

"Priss' favorite hotdog ADP officer, McNichol."

"Shit," Priss hissed..

Just then, the boomer brought the Vulcan up and fired it wildly, reaching down to pick up what looked like a thick manhole cover at the same time. It hurled the heavy metal disc at Sylia, who caught it as if the missile was nothing more then a frisbee in a friendly game of catch. The twenty millimeter cannon came up again, this time, aimed at Sylia. As it fired, it launched itself into the air, its flight jets sending a plume of smoke and fire into the ground below it.

"Now," said Sylia calmly.

The other two Sabers hurtled themselves into the air, Priss first, with Linna a close second. Sylia flung the disc back at the boomer, forcing it to move and turn towards her. Flashing in from the right, Linna slammed a knuckle bomber charge hard into the boomer's ribs. Caught by surprise, the boomer started to fall out of the sky. It spun towards Linna, triggering another burst of twenty millimeter slugs in an attempt to kill its tormentor. The burst went wide, and it was Priss' turn. The blue Saber fired her gauss needler at the falling cyberdroid, hitting it in the eye and neck. With no guidance from its internal CPU, the boomer slammed onto a portion of the collapsed roadway hard enough to make a crater, the spikes driven through the body and into the concrete beneath it.

"Ooh, that's got to hurt," said Craig in a low voice as the boomer struggled weakly. Then, in a suave announcer voice, he said, "The blueness of the boomer is offset by the dingy grey of the roadway, but I think the spikes give it a ceratin jena se quire. Another nice work of art by the Knight Sabers."

"Craig," Sylia said, as she walked towards it.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Okay." Both Linna and Priss snickered.

Sylia stopped several meters short of the feebly struggling boomer and looked at it. "This one is definitely a whole new breed." She shook her head slowly. "What are they up to?"

"I wouldn't get too close," said Craig, his voice serious.

"I know exactly what I am doing."

Out of the corner of his eye, Craig saw something moving on the roof of the building next to the one he was currently on. He switched his helmet's HUD over to starlight and turned his head slowly to look in the direction of the movement.

The dull black of his hardsuit, combined with position of deep shadows kept Craig from being visible to a casual observer. But the boomer on the next building wasn't a indifferent onlooker. The head looked funny, and it took Craig a couple of seconds to realize he had seen such a boomer before - in the pages of one of the BGC RPG books. If the boomer had been looking in Craig's direction, he might have spotted him, despite his cover. But the boomer was more concerned with the confrontation below.

Before Craig could open his mouth to warn the others, the boomer pinned to the roadway broke free. Craig's head snapped around to watch the mangled boomer make one last attack, the recon boomer forgotten for the moment. It was headless, armless, but it threw itself at Sylia. The White Saber ran at the dying cyberdroid, her right arm coming back, then thrusting forward into the boomer's gut. A dull thud could be heard as the boomer's armor couldn't hold up under a point-blank shot from Sylia's cannon. Leaking orange fluid, the maimed boomer collapsed on its stomach.

Sylia looked down at the dead boomer, Linna joining her. "It's a C-Class Boomer," the Leader of the Sabers said.

"A new type?" Linna asked her.

"Looks that way. Let's get out of here."

Craig looked back to the recon boomer. It was still perched there, watching the rest of the Sabers. "Guys?" he asked softly.

"What?" asked Sylia.

"You're going to have to go without me."

"And why's that?" asked Priss.

"Because there's a BU-96C recon boomer not more than thirty meters away from me right this second!" Craig hissed.

"Are you sure?" Sylia asked, her head never moving.

"Does Nene like sweets?"

Linna began to look up in Craig's direction, but Sylia grabbed her arm. "Keep looking at the dead boomer," she ordered. Then she asked Craig, "What is it doing?"

"Watching you three. If I move now, he'll see me."

"All right. Mackie, give Craig a location where he can meet up with the truck. Craig, stay where you are until the boomer leaves, or you're spotted. Priss, Linna, we'll go back to the truck and rendevous with Craig in a while."

"Craig, are you sure you're going to be all right?" Linna asked.

"As long as I don't do anything stupid."

"Too late in that case," muttered Priss.

"ADP will be there in less then two minutes!" Mackie interrupted.

"Time to leave." The three Knight Sabers leapt into the night sky, moving away from the battle and Craig. The Black Saber watched the boomer watch the Saber's leave. After about ninety seconds, the recon boomer turn and move off in the opposite direction, towards GENOM Tower.

Craig relaxed, shuddering as a burst of cold ran along his spine. "That was close," he whispered. He unloaded his rifle, cleared the firing chamber of the ready round, and placed his rifle in storage mode. As the weapon tucked itself away, he watched the lone figure still sitting on his motorcycle at the edge of the roadway. McNichol looked relaxed as he waited for the ADP to show up. And to think he has that meeting with Priss tonight, Craig thought. That would be interesting to watch.

The buzzing of approaching aircraft told Craig it was his turn to leave. He turned and ran to the edge of the building, and stepped off. Halfway down, his jump jets ignited and reached the ground safely. The motor slave was transforming back into bike mode as he approached it. He leapt on the bike, started it and activated his helmet's mike. "I'm coming in, Mackie."

*****

By the time Craig met up with the truck, the others had changed out of their hardsuits. Once he was in the truck, he removed his helmet, sat in a chair and leaned back. "That was fun," he said sarcastically. "Boss, can I get pomp-pomps for next time so I can do a better job of cheerleading?"

"There was no need for you to get involved this time," replied Sylia, as the truck started moving. She was sitting in a chair across from Craig.

"If that recon boomer had seen me, I would had got more then enough involvement."

"I take it the boomer didn't see you?"

Craig nodded. "It took off towards GENOM Tower after you left and before the ADP showed up. I got out of there ten second before the boys in blue started swarming the place."

"How did you know it was a recon boomer?" Linna asked. She was sitting on a cot, while Priss was standing next to her.

"The head was too big to be a clone of big, blue, and.....hideous."

"You seem to know a lot about GENOM's boomer designs," said Priss, giving Craig a cold stare.

Craig looked at her. "Where I came from, there was a lot of background information around the anime OVA series that I'm currently stuck in, namely here."

"You don't talk much about your home, do you?' said Linna.

Craig became somber. "I don't, because I don't need to be reminded of it."

"Assuming it ever existed," Priss said.

"Why was the boomer there?" asked Sylia quickly, noticing the flash of anger in Craig's eyes.

"He got lost?" Craig replied

"That's not funny!" Priss snarled.

"Well, excuse me!" Craig snapped back.

"I sure GENOM wanted to see what their new design could do under field conditions," Sylia said calmly.

"Or was it to test it against the Knight Sabers?" Priss asked.

"Probably both," Sylia replied. "But before we get off on a tangent, I wanted to discuss tonight's mission performance, especially yours, Craig."

Craig looked puzzled "Mine?"

"Your did well, considering it was your first mission, but there are some needs for improvement."

"Like what?"

"Your riding skills for one."

"What was wrong with the way I rode tonight?"

"You were slow," Priss cut in.

"Slow?" Craig said in a stunned tone. "What do you know about going slow, 'Miss Mach One is for Snails'?"

The singer bristled. "You barely made it in time tonight."

"I had to race though side streets and alleys at insane speeds in order to get where I was needed tonight! If I had hit anything or anyone, I would have been a black smear on the road!" He was yelling by now, and he stood up, his helmet bouncing away, forgotten in the heat of anger.

Priss opened her mouth, but Sylia cut her off with an upraised hand. She looked at Craig, forcing him to look at her. Slowly, he sank back into the chair. "While we were waiting for you," she said, once Craig was looking at her, "I reviewed the footage from your onboard camera. You took an unnecessary risk with that skid. Not only that, but you made enough noise to alert everyone in the area that you were there. While that wasn't a problem tonight, it could be a problem at a later date when stealth and speed are both needed."

"What I am suppose to do?"

"You will work more on you handling skills and become more comfortable at maneuvering at high speeds."

"You want me to teach him," Priss said flatly.

Sylia nodded. "And because of the time pressure, you'll start teaching him tonight."

There was silence in the truck. Craig was the first one to speak. "Tonight?" he asked woodenly.

"After we get back to the Silky Doll, you will meet Priss over at the Hot Legs, and you will spend at least an hour practicing tonight. Every other night we don't have a mission, you and Priss will work for an hour on those skills. In two weeks, we'll check your progress."

Both Priss and Craig stared at Sylia. "Is that wise?" Craig asked. "She and I don't get along too well."

"You will learn to work together. Is that understood?"

"That's nuts!" Priss sputtered.

Sylia turned to look at the singer. "I'm not asking you two to be the best of friends," she said in a level tone. "Craig is not here by his own free will, and he may need the skills you teach him. You, on the other hand, might have to depend on his skills one day to save your life. There is something looming in the near future that I don't like, something that is going to take all our skill and teamwork if we are going to have a chance of coming out on top."

"She's right," said Craig glumly. "Mason may maybe a jerk, but he's a jerk with a very large sledgehammer. Largo has an even larger sledgehammer, and twice Mason's arrogance." he leaned back and let his head tilt so he was staring at the truck's ceiling. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Compared to Largo," he said softly, "that boomer tonight was just a tinker toy. He thinks he's a god, a new messiah that is destine to break the boomers out of slavery and claim their right as the next step in the evolution ladder."

"And what happens to the humans?" asked Linna.

"We go the way of the dodo bird, the passenger pigeon, and honest politicians - we become extinct."

There was silence in the truck for several seconds. The truck slowed, and Mackie's voice come over the intercom near the front of the truck. "We're coming up on the Hot Legs."

Priss went over to the door. "Craig, how long are you going to be?"

"Give me about an hour," Craig replied, not moving from his position. "I need to pick some stuff up at my place first. Tell you what though. You teach me for an hour, and dinner is on me, fair enough?"

The Singer looked at him. "Your not thinking dinner is going to improve my opinion of you any, do you?"

"Nope. But it'll pay you back in a manner you'll appreciate for your lessons."

The truck stopped. "All right," Priss said, "You're on. Meet me here in a hour." The door opened and she was gone.

The door closed and the truck started moving again. After twenty seconds, Craig asked, "Sylia?"

"Yes?' she replied.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me why?"

"No."

"Okay."

Linna's expression was one of puzzlement as she watched the back and fro between the others. "Did I miss something?"

"No," said Craig and Sylia said at the same time.

Linna sat back and wondered if her teammates could get any weirder....

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

Captain Rowley was among the second wave of security people responding to the alarm in the building housing Project Hikigane. She had been going over some inventory reports with a supply lieutenant when the blare of the sirens started echoing across the compound. It had taken Schildt several minutes to show up in an ATV ands pick her up, but he'd drove live a race-car driver to reach the scene.

Schildt slowed the USSD vehicle he'd commandeered and stared at the spectacle. "This don't look good," he said bruskly.

"It doesn't," Rowley agreed. "Drive right up to the front door. I want to find out what happened ASAP."

"Right."

The place was a madhouse, with squad of USSD security troops dashing to and fro. Several ambulances were standing outside the building, while a couple were pulling away, sirens screaming the cry of injury. Several of the building's windows had been shattered, as had the main door. Demands for information and commands were shouted back and forward as several officers struggled to being order from chaos.

She leapt out of the military vehicle, Sargent Schildt right on her heels. A full head shorter then his CO, Master Sargent Hiram Schildt was at least forty kilograms heavier, all of it muscle, and the type of solider Rowley liked having under her command - tough, smart, and not afraid to make his opinions known to her when needed. His job was to assist the Captain with the task of liaising between the General and project Hikigane, or, as he put it, "listening to what one bunch of idiots wants, then telling another bunch of idiots what the first bunch of idiots wants." But he did his job, followed orders, and made sure the Captain stayed on top of her job.

Rowley strode up to the guarded doorway, her aide a short broad shadow. "I'm Captain Rowley," she announced to the trio of USSD Security troopers guarding the door.

The senior man of the three, a sergeant shook his head. "I'm sorry ma'am. My orders are not to let any unauthorized personnel into the building."

Schildt steeped out from behind Rowley. "Kingston," he growled, staring down the sergeant, despite the fact the guard sergeant was taller, "this Captain is authorized to be in this building. Why don't you let her in, and we'll forget this conversation. Otherwise...." He left the threat hanging, but the guard sergeant took Schildt's meaning.

"If the Master Sargent will vouch for the Captain," Sargent Kingston said quickly.

"I do," replied Schildt sharply. "What's going on in there?"

"Someone pulled a commando job on one of the sub-levels. That's all I know."

Rowley pushed past the guard, followed by Schildt. They moved through the lobby and to the elevator. The guard at the elevator was one of those assigned to Rowley's team, and he recognized the pair. "I'm glad to see you two," he said.

"What's going on, Corporal Sanchez?" Rowley asked.

"It looks like a small group of commandos hit the project," Sanchez said quickly. "Most of the guard shift, and a good number of the researchers are dead or wounded. They've brought up six bodies since I've been here."

"Did they get Hikigane?"

The soldier shook his head. "I don't know, but the General and half the staff are already downstairs poking around. It's a good bet they got it."

The captain nodded. "Can you get someone to spell you here, Sanchez?" she asked.

"Leave that to me," Schildt said. He strode off into the lobby, returning a minute later with two scared USSD privates. "Two for the price of one," he said.

"M-ma'am," one of the privates stuttered, "Lieutenant Vickers told us to -"

"I am Captain Amanda Rowley," she said quickly, cutting off the trooper's complaint. "My rank is higher then your lieutenant's, and under regulation 234, subsection three and four, I am ordering you to stand here and guard this elevator until such time you are relieved by myself or someone of a higher rank. Is that understood?"

"But -"

"Is that understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"I know these two," said Schildt, smiling in such a way that would make a boomer think twice about attacking. "They'll follow orders, isn't that right?" The way he said the last word conveyed all the power that sergeants had over lower ranks - the ability to make the lives of the junior men a living hell without stepping over the line. It wouldn't be Schildt's doing the actual punishing, but a word in the ear of the two's squad leader would do more then a five-minute chewing out, and the two knew it. They nodded quickly.

"Good. Master Sargent, Corporal, let's get moving."

The three entered the elevator and the doors closed. Rowley punched her access code into the panel and the elevator car started moving down. "All, right Sanchez," she said. "You told me the facts up there. What's the scuttlebutt?"

If the corporal was surprised by the question, he didn't show it. "Not much right now. They were whispering that Boomers were involved in the attack. A couple of the bodies passed me smelled like they've been cooked, which could give the boomer talk some credence. There's also talk that it was an inside job."

"I see. Sargent, who's running internal security here?"

"Major Stern," Schildt replied.

"Is he any good?"

"Define 'good', Ma'am."

"Can he find out what happened here?"

"Maybe, if he had enough time and plenty of help. I think it's safe to say that the Major has more familiarity with the female anatomy then the angles on a criminal investigation. At least that is the impression that I had heard from other people."

"Damn it," Rowley hissed through her teeth. "Sanchez, when we reach the sub-level, I want you to check the main computer system. Look for any activity in the last six hours. After that, I want you to start compiling a list of who's missing and get the rest of the liaison team to start tracking them down. Schildt, stick with me."

"What are we going to do?"

"Talk to General Schwarz."

"What for?"

"To find out if Hikigane is missing."

"What if it is missing?"

"Then we pray that we can find it before the terrorists learn how to use it...."

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

Mason walked into the lab, feeling better than he had in weeks. At this time of night, the lab was deserted, except for him and his 'ally'.

[You seem happy.] Largo said. [Have you found this person claiming to be Bert Van Vliet?]

"No," Mason admitted. "But his harassment tactics have dried up, so there's a chance the bastard has slunk away."

[I doubt it. Be on your guard, because I think our new opponent has something up his sleeve that could be...unpleasant. Any luck with the computer search for the possible identities of the Knight Sabers?]

"No. Somehow, the data files got corrupted and we had to start all over again. Are you sure you don't know the Saber's identities yourself?"

[I only knew SkyKnight's real name because of a fluke,] Largo lied easily. [A computer file wasn't where it was suppose to be, and I found it. I had managed to confirm his identity before I was attacked and crippled. Of course, that information is now useless to me and to you. Speaking of information, why did you come down here?]

Mason smiled. "The USSD project? It's done."

[Excellent,] Largo replied from the table where he was now lying. The transference of Largo's mind to the new body had been done several days before. There would be several more days of careful checking before the body would be fully activated, but Largo was fully recovered from his damage. [Any problems?]

"No. The boomers managed to destroy most of the lab, and eliminate several of the research team. It'll take them months for USSD to recreate the work."

[By then, GENOM will have complete control of the Particle Beam satellites. What about the other agent?]

"He copied off all the important files to an unused server at the far end of the compound, and he's suppose to retrieve the files in the next couple of days, after the excitement has died down."

[Where is the black box boomer now?]

"With Frederick and the other boomers assigned to this project."

[The meet is for tomorrow night at Aqua City, am I right?]

Mason nodded. Largo had been right on so many things before that another revelation was nothing new. "I think USSD's search will have expanded beyond the scope of the city by then."

[Sound thinking,] Largo purred. [May I suggest something?]

"What?"

[USSD will call in the Knight Sabers to search for their lost prize. And the Sabers will be there at Aqua City tomorrow night. A few combat boomers already in place at the meet will be an unwelcome surprise, in addition to the extra number of boomers already assigned to this project.]

"I can maybe shake two or three BU-12s loose for such a endeavor, but no more. Madigan is watching me like a hawk."

[Keep your cool. Madigan is careful, cunning, and patient. As long as you do not make an obvious mistake, she will do nothing.]

"I should see about eliminating her."

[No,] Largo said firmly. [Anything attempt that fails will bring her down on us, with the old man's support. There is no way you could survive such an investigation, nor the aftermath. Once you're installed as Chairman, then you can worry about removing her from her position. Until then, treat her as a tiger - never forget that she will pounce on any weakness you show. She is not stupid, but she will never move against you prematurely. Give her nothing to seize upon and she will wait until it's too late.]

Mason frowned. "I don't like it."

[You don't have to like it, but you are letting your ambitions override your common sense. Madigan is a threat only if you make a big enough mistake. There is more to lose than to gain in her removal.]

"All right," Mason hissed, his pleasant mood dissipating. "I had better go and see if I can free up those combat boomers for tomorrow night."

[You had better.]

Mason turned and stalked out of the lab. Largo frowned mentally. Had he really ever been that stupid? Mason was irrational, prone to violence at the slightest offense, and blind to possibilities that could cause problems later on. As he watched his counterpart at work, via his access to the computer network, Largo was finding less and less to like about Mason. Not that Largo really liked this Mason to begin with, but he did have his uses.

But Mason's unstable nature was being noticed by Quincy, and Largo knew that Quincy wasn't going to worry about waiting for Mason to make a mistake. Once Mason's usefulness to Quincy, and by extension, GENOM, was over, so was Mason's life. The Old Man never took chances. That was clear in the observation devices that were active whenever Mason was in the room, and Largo had no doubts that the old Man was well aware of Mason's seemlily one-sided conversations.

Largo thought. He had to find a way to use Mason to shield himself from Quincy, the Sabers and the other Avatar for as long as possible. He needed time to insinuate himself onto GENOM and build a power base before he could take his revenge on the Sabers. Mason was the perfect front man, but only for as long as he was useful. Largo had to be ready before Mason died at the hands of the Knight Sabers. Now how to do it?

That was going to take some thought, and Largo started thinking.

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

Priss leaned against her bike, looking at her watch for the fourth time in as many minutes. She was sitting out in front of Hot Legs, waiting for Craig. Where the hell is he? she thought. It's been an hour and ten minutes! She had turned down three date offers and a drunk who wanted her to sing 'Konya Wa Hurricane' without musical accompaniment. She was tired, angry, and hungry, and she resolved to wait for ten more minutes before she'd take off on her own, and worry about Sylia's wrath tomorrow.

Just then, the rumbling of a large engine was heard in the distance. It got louder, and Priss frowned. It sounded familiar, but it couldn't be....

Just then, a large black motorcycle rumbled into view. It traveled just under the speed limit towards her, rumbling like jet fighter. The figure sitting on it was wearing a dark brown bomber jacket, thick dark gray pants, calf-high boots and a black motorcycle helmet. The rider slowed as he approached Priss.

Priss identified the bike at once - a Hurricane motorslave, minus the machine gun. And the only one with a black hurricane was....

"Sorry I'm late," said the rider removing his helmet. "But, I had a small problem with...." He trailed off a he saw Priss' shocked expression. "What?" he demanded. "I forget something?"

Priss was having a hard time recognizing Craig. His hair was still short, but it was now blond, with streaks of brown. He was also wearing a neatly trimmed beard and mustache the same colors as his hair and his eyes were now bright blue. There was a large mole on his left cheek and a scar running above his right eye. She had to stare hard to see the person she knew underneath.

"What's the deal?" she asked, her expression one of disbelief and inquisitiveness.

He ran his fingers through his hair. "This old thing?" He shrugged. "I'll tell you later, when I'm buying you dinner."

"I know just the place. It'll usually take us half an hour to get there, but I know a shortcut."

"Back allies and side streets at excessive amounts of speed, right?"

"Just follow me, Viking." She swung herself onto her bike, slipped on her helmet, and started her bike. Before Craig could slip on his helmet, she had shot off down the road at twice the speed limit.

"Highway to the Danger Zone, Take you right into the Danger Zone....." Craig sang to himself softly as he put his helmet back on and started off after Priss.

*****

After a twenty-minute, hair-rasing ride, the two of them pulled up in front of a small burger place called 'Funy Day'. Priss waited until Craig pulled off his helmet before she said, "Not bad, but you have to have a better feel for the bike. You could have taken a couple of those turns a bit tighter."

Craig got off his bike slowly, staggered a couple of steps. "I hate roller coaster rides," he said in a flat voice.

The non-sequitur make Priss frown. "What does that have to do with motorcycle riding?"

"With you, they're one and the same. It's going to take weeks for my heart to get back to normal."

"It's not that bad."

"Oh, really?" Craig waved in the direction they had come from. "My stomach will be catching up with us in about five minutes."

"Quit your bitching, and let's get something to eat."

"Okay." They both went inside.

"Remember, you're buying," said Priss with a smirk as they approached the counter.

"How could I forget?" Craig replied. "I had to stop by my bank and take out a small loan to make sure I had enough money."

Priss gave him a cold stare. Craig sighed. "Peace, O Songbird of the Fault," he said. "It's time we hammered out an armistice between the two of us."

"All right," Priss said cooly.

They didn't say anything to each other until they had picked up their meal and moved to a small booth in the corner near the window. Priss had two burgers on her tray, while Craig had only the one. Priss waited until Craig had unwrapped his burger before she said in a low voice, "You were going to tell me why you look like a surfer boy."

Craig took a bite out of his burger and waited until he finished swallowing before he started. "First," he said in the same low voice, "I wanted to give this identity some visibility in and around the city."

"What are you calling yourself in this getup?" Priss asked.

"Simon 'Viking' Johansson." He gave her a grin. "The 'Viking' nickname I have you to thank for. It sorts of fits the character I want for him."

"Which is?"

"A bit of a madman, but a trustworthy person with his own code of honor."

"Why bother with this disguise or this identity to begin with?"

"Johansson is part information broker, part fixer. You need something done, if you can find him, and he accepts the commission, the job gets done. Sylia has put me in contact with several people who will vouch for me. This way, we have an ear into the underground and some contacts who aren't aware of any...Saber connections."

"Why bother with Johansson tonight?"

Craig smiled, showing several gold-tipped teeth. "I now look more like the type of guy you would that would hang out with. I also don't want to be another visible link between you and the others. I still have Mason looking for my hide, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Priss asked, taking time to take several bites of her own burger. "Okay, now that you've explained your appearance, I think we have some other business to discuss?"

"You mean why we seem to be sniping at each other?"

"Yes."

"You realize that Sylia did this on purpose, didn't you?"

The singer nodded as she took another bite of her burger. "I had my suspicions."

"She thinks that you and I are going to kill each other one of these days."

"She might be right."

"You still don't believe Ishmael, even after he teleported you into a snowbank?"

"I don't believe in magic."

"Who said anything about magic?" Craig asked. "Imagine showing up in seventeenth century Japan wearing a hardsuit. To those people, your hardsuit would be magical armor, instead of today's cutting edge technology. Ishmael's just an advanced....something or other, using something you think is magic, when it's something from his technology level."

Priss leaned forward. "Then explain how he did it."

"I can't."

"Then it's magic, and I don't believe in it."

Craig looked at her askance. "Do you want to explain that?"

"Nope."

"Oh."

They ate in silence for a minute or so, then Craig asked. "Has Mackie been picture taking again?"

"Not that I know of," Priss replied.

"How you ever thought of doing the same to him?"

"We did that already, remember? It took him two weeks to get over that, but he was back to normal again soon enough." Priss scowled. "I'm getting sick and tired of having to check the shower stall every time I want to take a shower."

"I wanted Mackie to work at the bookstore, but Sylia vetoed it." Craig sipped his drink. "But I was going to suggest that the three of you do the same thing to him, put cameras in certain places, try and see him in the buff, and do it until he gets the message."

"Sylia won't go for it."

"Sylia doesn't like him doing what he's doing now, but that hasn't stopped him. She's the one who thought up the idea of having Mackie wake up by the swimming pool in the middle of winter."

"Is that the best plan you can come up with? Us turning the tables on him?"

"Well, the 'getting Nene and Mackie together' plan hasn't work yet, so I'm suggesting options."

Priss finished her first burger. "Why do you care about what Mackie does? He doesn't try and peek at you when you're changing."

"Because I am a member of this team, and as the only male field element, I have to do something to stop this. One way is to lead by example. That doesn't include ogling my team-mates like they're Playboy centerfolds"

"Why don't you sit down and talk to him?" She leaned forward. "I'm sure he'll listen to you."

Craig snorted. "That's a last resort. I'm not exactly a role model."

"You've acted like a gentleman the entire time I've known you. You haven't tried to spy on us when we're changing, take nude pictures of us, or otherwise act like a teenager."

"Maybe because before I went through 'Ishy's school of youthfulness,' I was fifteen years older than any of you, with the social life of a rock. My hormones bounced around for a while when I was a teenager, decided they were just wasting their time, and went home early."

Priss raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't sound like you've had much luck in relationships."

"I rather not say. That's not an area I want to talk about."

The singer leaned back and nodded to herself, as if she had discovered something. "I think that explains why you haven't asked any of us for a date."

Craig frowned. "What brought this on?"

"Your partners are four women, yet, with the exception of some accidental double entres, you haven't made a pass at any of us. I think I now know why."

Craig's expression was one of confusion. "You can officially declare me clueless. Are you upset that I haven't asked you out on a date?"

"No!" Priss replied sharply. The other people in the store turned to look at her and she sunk down in her seat, glaring at Craig.

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"No!" Again, the people turned and looked at Priss, who continued to glare at Craig, who was still looking completely bewildered. "You can't be this dense," she hissed at him.

"That's not what my parents and others have told me on the odd occasion. I can be denser when I put my mind to it."

"That I can believe."

Craig squirmed slightly. "Wait a minute. You're telling me that you've just figured out why I haven't thrown myself at four beautiful women like a sex-starved cretin?"

"Yes. I think you're scared of us."

"Scared?" Craig arched an eyebrow. "You think I'm scared of all of you?"

Priss smirked. "It must be a blow to your male ego to find out that four women can do a job that is dangerous as the one we do."

"If my male ego was ever the size of Chicago, I might agree with you," Craig replied. "But I've never had that type of ego, and I've seen you and the others in action. I don't let my feelings get in the way of reality, and the reality is you four are better then I am. Period, exclamation point."

"What's your reason, if it isn't your male ego?"

Craig shrugged. "There's a lot of good reasons why I haven't asked any of you out on dates. And before you tell me, the couple of dinners I had with Linna was like this one here - a payment for services rendered." He gave her a quirky smile. "In her case, it was for helping to clean, or more actually, beat the rust off my fighting skills."

He took a long swig of his drink before he continued. "First, my ego isn't big enough to think I'd have a chance with any of you. Self-assurance has never been a strong point of mine. Second of all, I've got a hard enough time integrating myself into the team without trying to balance a personal relationship with any of you on top of that."

"That sounds like you've been thinking about it," Priss said, sounding disappointed.

"I do that sometimes."

"You sound like you have more reasons."

Craig nodded slowly. "I do." He hesitated, then said in a low, slow voice, "Don't you think I've thought about it? Another time and another place, I might have asked one or all of you out on dates, assuming my ego allowed me to. But Ishy didn't toss me into this mess so I could jump-start my social life. Largo is out there, he's going to be coming after all of us sooner or later. I can't have my head up my ass at the wrong moment because I've been distracted."

He rubbed his temples. "And what happens if and when Largo takes the dirt nap for real? Am I stuck here permanently, or do I go back from where I came from? Could I walk away from a relationship here or ask one of you to come with me back to a place where she would be an outsider? I keep seeing reasons why I shouldn't get involved, and not many reason to get involved."

Priss' expression darkened. "That's a load of shit," she said

She started to stand, but Craig grabbed her by the arm. "I'm sorry," he said. "Please sit down."

She sat down again, and Craig sighed. "That's another reason why I don't want to get involved with any of you. I'm a loner, always have been, always will be. My personality isn't conducive to relationships. I can be a jerk, insensitive, and self-centered at times."

"Like now?"

Craig nodded, his expression pensive. "I don't want to burden any of you with that. I consider the four of you and Mackie my friends, and I never had enough friends that I could afford to drive one away."

The singer's expression softened "So there's a real person hiding under that attitude."

"It's either hide behind the outlook, or go mad. I think you understand more where I'm coming from then the others would."

Priss nodded. "I think I do."

"Could we come to a truce?" Craig looked out the window. "We can't afford a division on this team. We're going to have enough trouble with Largo and Mason. I'm not asking to be your best friend or intimate confidant. Sylia trusts me, and I sure the others do too. What I'm asking you for is your trust, and I know that's something you don't give easily. Can you trust me?"

Craig turned top look at Priss, who stared at him. There was no strong emotion on her face, but she didn't flinch from Craig's gaze. There was silence between them for a long minute before Priss said, "We'll see. I'm beginning to think you can contribute to the team, and you haven't done anything to shake Sylia's faith in you."

"I suppose gaining your full trust right away would have been stupid to ask for."

"Speaking of trust." Priss scratched her ear and glanced at her watch. "I think we've wasted enough time gabbing. We've still got another forty minutes of riding still."

The disguised Saber stretched. "Another action-packed, thrill-a-minute ride? I can barely wait."

"You can take care of the trash and I'll meet you outside." She grabbed her second burger and drink off her tray, while Craig collected the remnants of the meal. She went outside and Craig dumped the trash into a can. He heard a motorcycle pull up outside the store, but he ignored it, thinking over his conversation with Priss. How had she gotten him to discuss relationships?

He shook off the line of thinking, and went out the door....

"It is you, isn't it? Fancy meeting you in a place like this!" Craig's jaw dropped. Leon McNichol was out there, talking to Priss. She was leaning against her bike, trying to ignore him and concentrate on her second burger.

That didn't stop the ADP Inspector from his attempt to chat up the singer. "Uh, I'm a fan of yours."

"Thanks," Priss replied in a noncommital tone.

"I caught your show this evening. It was incredible."

Craig found himself smiling. He strode out and went over to his bike, sat astride it, folded his arms, and watched the conversation unfold. Priss gave him a sharp look, but said nothing. Leon noticed him, frowned, then continued, "Say, how about having a burger with me?"

"I've already got one," Priss said

Leon's smile dimmed. "Oh yea...so I see."

At that point, Craig started snickering. Priss shot him a dirty look, which only made Craig laugh a little harder. Leon, caught off stride by the audience, tried to get back on track. "Still, this is so cool...Me getting to make friends with you and all, and -"

At this point, Craig lost all semblance of control and started laughing loudly. This time, Priss's glare was one of pure fury, while Leon looked confused. "Is there something wrong with him?" he asked.

"Nothing that a few good swift kicks won't cure," growled Priss.

"What?" Craig managed to gasp out between breaths, forcing himself to stop laughing for the moment.

"It isn't funny."

"Yea, it isn't funny," Leon added, only to be the new target of Priss' glower. "What?"

"Stay out of this," Priss said, her voice hard.

"Yea, Stay out of this," Craig said, and broke out in fresh laughter as Priss glared at him again.

Leon continued to look confused. "Do you mind, Mr.?"

Craig, still chuckling, stuck out a hand towards Leon. "Call me 'Viking'. Real's name's Johansson. And don't mind me. I like watching live entertainment."

His rhythm disrupted by the interruptions, Leon ignored the outstretched hand and tried to get back to the conversation with Priss. "Oh, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Leon, with the AD Police. We protect people from boomers."

Priss didn't bother to look at him this time. "I knew that from looking at the badge on your chest." She finished the burger and crumpled up the wrapper.

"She got you there, Ace," said Craig.

"This is none of your business," Leon said sharply, now glaring daggers at the blond man.

Craig's humor had died down to a smirk. "Is your business with Priss a police matter?" he asked plainly

"Er...no."

"I see. How do we know you're actually a member of the ADP?"

Leon pulled out a small leather case and flipped it opened. Craig leaned forward and made a show of carefully studying the ADP identification card inside. "Looks like we have a genuine ADP member among us." he said in a soft drawl. "Your mother must be thrilled."

The inspector shut the case and put it away. "I was speaking to Priss about some private matters. Do you mind?"

Craig shrugged. "You can go ahead and try, Ace. I just hope you like being shot down."

By now, Priss had slipped on her helmet. You know," She said, looking at Leon, "I hate the Police - especially the AD Police."

Leon's laugh was somewhat embarrassed. "Well, there aren't many people who say they love the police."

"And there's even less people who say they love the AD Police," put in Craig. Leon was the one who gave him the dirty stare this time.

Priss ignored Craig's comment. She finished slipping on her gloves as she said, "Well, you might be liked if you did something for the people's benefit." She tossed her cup to Leon. "You can start by throwing these away."

"If I do, will you have dinner with me sometime?" asked Leon eagerly. Craig sighed and put his hands into his face.

Priss stared at Leon cooly. "Instead of chasing girls' asses, go chase a few boomer's asses." She backed up her back and peeled off down the street.

Leon leaned on his bike and stared as Priss drove away, his expression bemused.

"Smooth Ace, You had her eating out of your hand."

Leon turned back to look at Craig, his expression not so pleasant. "Why don't you mind your own business?"

The blond shrugged. "If I did that, I'd never make any money. Besides, Priss is a quasi- friend of mine, and I don't have enough friends to afford any of them getting hurt."

"I'm not that sort of person."

"So you say." 'Johansson smiled. "But I like you, Ace. You're good-looking, somewhat smart and you've got balls. You want to pursue Priss, go ahead, I'm not going to stop you." The smile faded. "But you've got to realize that there's a lot of anger and pain in that girl, and she hates what you represent."

"Do you know why she hates the police?"

Craig frowned. This is going to be tricky, he thought. "I'm pretty sure I know why," he said slowly. "Mind you, this is second and third hand information, some rumor, part conjecture, and I haven't the nerve to discuss it with Priss. I'm not that close a friend."

He reached behind him and picked up his helmet. "This was before I knew her, but she was riding with a motorcycle gang a couple or three years back, and she fell for the gang leader hard." He placed the helmet in front of him and leaned on it. "They were tight, young love and all that. Word had it that the gang leader managed to get his hands on some sensitive info from one of the megacorps."

Leon leaned forward. "GENOM?"

"They're the usual suspects. Anyway, the leader got into his head he could blackmail the corp. Only, the corp didn't play ball. He and Priss were out riding one night, a car drove by and kerpow! One dead gang leader and a case that's never solved. She blames the police for not doing their job, and GENOM for doing the job."

The ADP police inspector scowled, as if trying to remember something. "Can you give me any more details?"

"'Fraid not, Ace. Priss isn't a open type of person, and I'm not about to go digging up old bones." He picked up his helmet and put it on. "I've got to go. Priss is showing me some of the sights, and knowing her, she's already halfway to Yokohama."

"She's quite a girl," said Leon wistfully.

"Well, don't expect her to throw herself into your arms." Craig reached into his jacket and pulled out a small card case. He extracted a business card and handed it to Leon. "You might need this someday. Give the number a call, and I'll contact you within three hours. If I can help you, I will, at no charge."

Leon looked at the card then at Craig again. "Why bother? You don't like the police anymore then Priss does."

"True. But you and the rest of the ADP been handed the pointed end of the stick. The good news is you're hated by everyone, you're undergunned, understaffed, underfunded, and misunderstood. The bad news is that the rampages are going to get worse. The boomer tonight is just the beginning."

"I see. Do you know something?"

Craig shook his head. "Just whispered words on the street, Ace. You're going to be facing stuff that makes the boomer tonight look like a kitchen appliance. You need an edge. I might be able to supply it."

"And what do you want in return?"

"I may ask for a favor one day. You'll be free to accept or decline the favor if and when I ask for it, so don't get righteous on me." He kicked the cycle's engine to life. "It's been a pleasure, Ace. Stay hard." He backed up the large motorcycle and roared off in the direction Priss had taken

Leon watched him leave, his expression unreadable.

*****

Priss was waiting for Craig several blocks up the street. She glared at him through an open visor. "What took you so long?" she shouted as he pulled up alongside her.

"I was making a contact," Craig replied, rasing his helmet's visor.

"That jerk?"

"That 'jerk' is an Inspector in the ADP. He could be a very useful contact." He shrugged. "He seemed smitten by you, though."

"You weren't giving him any advise about me, were you?" Priss asked in a growl.

"Perish the thought, O harmonious balladeer. I barely know how to stay on you good side, let alone advise anyone on how to win your sweet and noble heart."

The singer snorted. "Well, get ready to show me if you've learned anything." She flipped down her visor and gunned her cycle's engine. With a squeal of rubber, she shot down the street.

Craig sighed. "I know I'm going to regret this," he muttered, just before he flipped down his own visor and took off after Priss.