Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Bubblegum Avatar #2 – "Born to be Killed" ❯ Chapter 10 - “Now, This is Familiar....” ( Chapter 10 )

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

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Chapter 10 - “Now, This is Familiar....”

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Jeremy slowly faded into awareness.

His senses, one by one reported in. Touch was first, telling him he was lying on a bed of some sort. Taste informed him his mouth was dry and gummy, while Smell detected a slight whiff of antiseptic in the air. Hearing caught the noise of something moving in the room, something that didn’t sound like it was natural.

“I know you’re awake,” said an electronically modulated voice. “It’s time that you and I talked.”

Jeremy opened his eyes slowly, letting his vision adjust to the light from the single overhead fixture. He then sat up slowly, and looked around the room. The walls were white, like a hospital’s, and bare of any features like wall art or windows. All the furniture in the room consisted of the bed he was lying in, a night table, and a single chair, all functional and basic. A large mirror hung on the wall across from the bed, and a steel door was to the left of that. Another door was to the right of the bed.

There was also an armored figure in the room. Jeremy gawked at it. The figure was a female, and the armor was white with blue trim. He glanced down at the feet, and his eyes widen as he saw the suit had high heels. “Who the hell are you?” he rasped as he sat up. “Why have you kidnaped me?”

“You can call me White Saber,” the armored figure replied. “I am the leader of the Knight Sabers. As to why you’re here, we’re saving your life.”

“Saving my life from what?”

“Mason and Largo, for starters.” Jeremy noticed the voice was the flat sound of a voice refined through an electronic filter. There was no trace of accent or emotion in that voice.

“What do you know about them?” Jeremy asked. He tossed the covered aside and swung his legs over the side. He noticed that he was still wearing his pajamas from the evening before. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at his captor. “And why do you care?”

“We know about the BU-99CX1 Superboomer Project.”

Jeremy hung his head. There was no use in denying it. “Are you going to kill me?”

The Saber’s voice held an edge of humor now. “After all the efforts my people went through to rescue you? No, we were hired to destroy the BU-99CX1, when it came to our attention that you were going to be killed. In fact, you and the entire research team were suppose to die in an explosion while Largo and Mason moved the superboomer to another location.”

The young technician look up at her sharply. “Why should I believe you?”

“You’re alive,” the White Saber replied without emotion. “One of Largo’s female boomers tried to kill you and my people after we picked you up.”

“How do know that?”

The hardsuited woman pointed to a newsfax on the night table. “Today’s newspaper carries all the details.”

Jeremy glanced at the paper. The front picture was that of a wrecked car that might have been the one he was in the night before. “I’ll read it in a while,” he said. “What do you want from me?”

“For now, you can rest. Later on, we want to record a statement about the boomer project.”

“What for?”

“Simply destroying the prototype that you were working on will not stop GENOM from trying again. But if we give the police enough evidence and information on the design, it will make it very difficult for GENOM to continue the work.”

“It won’t stop them.”

“Maybe not,” the Leader of the Knight Sabers said. “But the more expensive we can make it, the less likely it will be for GENOM to make a profit off of this...boomer.”

Jeremy looked up at her. “What do I get out of it?”

“A new identity, bio-sculpture, readjustment to your DNA, and a chance to live.”

“What about Irene, my fiancee? Is she included?”

“She is,” the White Saber replied. “We had intended to pick both of you last night, but she never came home.”

“She decided to spend the night over at a friend’s house. I don’t know which one.”

“I see. She’s in danger.”

“What time is it?”

“It is after eight o’clock in the morning. We have no idea where to look for her.”

“Will she be safe?” Jeremy asked.

“She should be. I will have people looking for her, and once they find her, we’ll bring her in.”

The young technician stood up, ignoring the wave of weakness that washed over him. “Why should I trust you?” he shouted. “What if this is all an elaborate plan to trick me into something?”

“Trick you into what?” the Saber replied calmly. “If we wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have left your apartment alive. We have almost all the data we need to plan and launch our attack on the laboratory. You don’t know where your fiancee is, and to be honest, you two are a sideshow to our main mission. All we need for you to do is stay here and wait for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Wait for what?”

“For us to finish our mission. Then, after you make the statement, you and your fiancee will disappear into the population of any city you want, with a second chance at having a happy life.”

Jeremy relaxed in defeat. “I guess I do not have much of a choice.”

“We could release you, but the chances of you being alive at this time tomorrow are slim. After twenty-four hours, the odds get worse.”

“I see. Then I will stay – for now.”

“Good. For security reason, you will have to be locked in, but it should only be for twenty-four hours or so.” She motioned to left of the bed. “Your suitcase is there. We have already searched it for any weapons or electronics and found none. There’s a full bathroom through the door to the right of the bed. Would you care for some breakfast?”

“Please.”

“It will arrive shortly. Good morning.” The Saber went over to the door and opened it. Jeremy caught a flash of a short, bare-looking corridor before the White Saber closed the door behind her. The sound of a pair of bolts being thrown could be heard, then silence.

*****

Sylia waited until she entered the adjoining observation room before she removed her helmet. “Any comments?”
Unlike Jeremy’s room, this room was carpeted, had several overstuffed chairs, a couple of plants and painting hanging on the walls. Most of one wall was actually a one-way mirror looking into Jeremy’s room.

The rest of the team was there, scattered around the room. Linna was standing at the window, watching Jeremy read the newsfax. Priss was munching on a piece of pizza, the rest of the congealed food in a box on the low table in front of here. Nene and Mackie were shifting through a small pile of papers on the same table. Craig was stretched out on a small couch, eyes closed.

Linna looked at Sylia. “What are we going to do?”

“We continue to look for her,” Sylia replied. “She can’t have too many friends.”

“She doesn’t, but it’s going to take awhile. Most are in class now.”

“Do the best that you can. I don’t like the idea of her out there alone, especially with what happen last night.”

“The cops are going to be looking for her too,” said Priss. “Her fiancé is missing, and there was a running gun battle. It isn’t going to take long for Leon to put two and two together.”

“You mean the guy who you think can’t tie his own shoelaces?” Craig asked. Priss glared at him, but since Craig has his eyes closed, he didn’t see it.

“Priss is right,” said Nene. “The ADP will be called in simply because Jeremy is a boomer technician. And once he finds out that the police officers who arrested Jeremy weren’t real officers, he’s going to connect the fight with it.”

“And don’t forget GENOM,” said Mackie.

“I’m not,” Sylia replied. “That’s why we have to find her first.”

“We’re going after the superboomer tonight?” Linna asked.

“Yes. Even if Mason realizes that we have Jeremy, he can’t do anything about moving the project until tonight at the earliest.”

“I’m not too happy about attacking that laboratory,” Linna said. “There’s going to be a lot of security, including boomers.”

“I have been working on the attack plan for a while now,” Sylia replied. “In fact, we have more intelligence on this target then most of the others we’ve gone up against.”

“What about the technicians working on the project?” Nene asked.

“We’ll consider them noncombatants unless there’s a good reason. The destruction of the superboomer and the retrieval of the project data are the main objectives.”

“I’m not happy about having to retrieve the data.” Priss said. “That’s going to make the mission even more difficult.”

“It’s necessary.” Nene said. “We must get the data, or all we’ll do is set them back for a while. Getting the data will make their new design useless.”

“I’m more concerned about Irene,” Linna said.

“She is a secondary concern until we complete our main mission,” Sylia said, “But that doesn’t mean we stop looking for her. GENOM and the ADP aren’t going to stop looking. We have to find her first.”

“What’s to stop Mason from just sending a rampaging boomer after Irene?” said Priss bitterly. “That way, she’s just one victim among a couple of hundred.”

“Nothing,” Sylia replied. “But he wants to know how much Jeremy told her and if she’s told anyone else. He wants her alive. After he’s finished with her....” She let the sentence drift off, but she didn’t need to say anything else.

Linna looked troubled. “I’ll start call Irene’s friends. What are the rest of you going to do?”

A sound like a low buzzsaw answered her.

Everyone looked in the direction of Craig. A low hiss followed the buzzsaw as Craig inhaled, then the buzzsaw started again as he exhaled.

Priss shook her head. “The son of a bitch is sleeping!”

Sylia sighed. “Let him sleep for now,” she said. “Priss, you’d better get some sleep yourself. Nene, Check the ADP and N-police records, just in case they’ve already found her. Mackie, give her a hand.”

“What are you going to do, Sis?” Mackie asked.

“I’ll talk to Fargo, after I deliver our guest his breakfast.”

*****

As soon as Largo entered Mason’s office, the cyberdroid knew Mason was extremely angry. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he walked across the room.

Mason glared at him. “Can you explain this?” he hissed. He tossed a newsfax across the desk to Largo. The would-be boomer god looked down at the paper. The front picture was that of a wrecked car, with the headline, ‘BOOMER BATTLE!’

“What about it?”

“They found the remains of a boomer at the scene. A C-class Female boomer.”

Largo’s expression was one of disinterest. “Did you lose one of your...assistants?”

“No.”

“Then, it must be one of mine.”

Mason’s face became red. “What do you mean one of yours?”

Largo looked up him. “You didn’t expect me to do this job alone, did you? So I had three of the C-class female boomers built to assist me.”

“You’re out of line! You had no right to usurp GENOM asserts for your own use!”

“I an doing GENOM’s work by trying to protect the BU-99CX1, something which you seemly are trying to hamper.”

Mason growled before turning away and looking out the window. Largo frowned. The situation was worse then he’d thought. It was now clear that the frustration Mason was feeling about this Bert Van Vliet had sunk into the man’s brain, shredding the tight control he usually kept on his emotions. Either by accident or design, Van Vliet had found the most effective tactic, one that bypassed all normal defenses and struck at Mason’s core -- his reputation.

It had taken years and a cold ruthlessness for Mason to build the reputation of being someone to be feared, both inside and outside GENOM. Only the Chairman himself had a more formidable reputation, but Mason made it a point to get directly involved when the occasion arose. No one had dared to directly challenge him, or his plans, in years. The closest thing he had to an opposition was the Knight Sabers and Sylia Stingray....

...until this Van Vliet had shown up.

Deep in his mind, Largo acknowledged the subtlety of the psychological operation. Like a mad surgeon, Van Vliet had ripped apart the carefully constructed image with childish pranks and cruel taunts. Mason’s was now a figure of derision inside GENOM, and he was losing much of his power. What was even more galling was Van Vliet’s ability to hide from Mason’s maniacal search.

And it was having an effect. Unable to locate or stop his tormentor, Mason was taking his frustrations out on those around him. His temper, already well-known, was just under the surface of his demeanor, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. It was also distracting him from other matters, both GENOM and personal. Nothing serious yet, but it would get worse until it came to the attention of the Chairman.

While Mason was close to frothing at the mouth over Van Vliet, Largo was merely annoyed with the man who was the opposing Avatar. The campaign against Mason showed a certain childishness, yet Van Vliet had managed to avoid an extensive search by both GENOM and Largo. The cyberdroid was no closer to finding Van Vliet now then he had been when he started the search.

Mason spun to face Largo. “What was your boomer doing that caused her to get involved in a street battle?”

“Gyda was assigned to watch Jeremy Kwan,” Largo said easily. “Her orders were to watch his building and if he left it anytime during the night, she was to follow and kill him.”

“And Kwan left?”

“Evidently, he did. I have another one of my assistants investigating what happened. I expect a full report from her soon.”

“What about Irene Chang?”

“She has disappeared. My last assistant is looking for her right now.”

“Do you think the Knight Sabers are involved?”

“I cannot rule out the possibility,”

“Those two could be out of the country by now!”

“I doubt it. Assuming she has them, Sylia Stingray will want the information on the project first, then contact the Chang Group to arrange the return of Chang’s granddaughter.”

“I want that bitch dead!”

“Which bitch?”

Mason glared at him. “Sylia!”

Largo arched an eyebrow. “The Mason I knew never allowed his anger to show this blatantly.”

“The Mason you knew should have ordered you destroyed!”

“Really, you are becoming irrational. If we kill her now, the rest of the team, including Van Vliet, will go into hiding and strike where we least expect it. Until we know the identity of all the Sabers, we cannot move against them. It is as simple as that.”

“The go find me Van Vliet and the rest of the Sabers!”

“What about Chang?”

Mason waved a hand. “Leave her to me. If we find her, Kwan shouldn’t be too far away.”

“Very well. But it also likely that the Sabers will be close.”

“If they are, they will be dealt with. Leave me.”

Largo nodded and left the office, leaving Mason staring out his window. The man is an obsessive fool, he though as he entered the elevator. And it will destroy him....

Destroy him and remake him into Largo....

One of the first decision he had come to when he had been reactivated in this place was that there was only going to be one Largo – him. Two Largos were not only unnecessary, but counterproductive. And since he had been brought here to correct the mistakes he’d made in his timeline, it was the other Largo that would be surplus. Therefore, when Mason did die, he must never become Largo.

The Boomer God smiled, a cold brittle smile that held all the malice he felt. It would take some time, but he had a plan that would solve most of his problems in one fell swoop.

First, he had to find out what happened to Gyda....

*****

Chief Todo was not a very tall man, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in bluster and intimidation.

Right now, Leon and Daley were the targets of the Chief’s temper. “What do you mean you don’t know what happened last light?” the ADP chief bellowed.

Leon stood there, arms crossed, looking irritated. “All we know is that we stumbled across a chase while on routine patrol. We joined the chase and witnessed several exchanges of gunfire between the two cars involved. We tried to vector other units to cut off the cars, but the first car fired some sort of grenade or RPG and the second car and blew it up.”

“That’s why your car looks like hell,” said Todo.

“We were a little closer then we should have,” Leon conceded.

The chief snorted. “Any closer, and you’d be making this report from a hospital bed!”

“When we stopped to investigate the wreck,” Daley continued. “A figure managed to get out of the car’s remains, but before we could confront it, it took off after the first car on foot.”

“It was a boomer,” Leon added. “Smashed, burned and torn up, but it never slowed down.”

“We pursued the boomer on foot,” Daley resumed. “But it outran us. We heard several shots, then a burst of cannon fire. By the time we reached the intersection, the boomer was in pieces and the people in the first car were gone.”

“Any ID on the car?” Todo snapped.

“Nothing,” Leon replied. “The VIN belongs to a car that was reported junked three months ago, while the licence plate is registered to an empty lot over in District Seven. We found a few shells from a large caliber handgun, but nothing identifiable. We have the CSI guys looking over the car for any thing we’d missed, but I’m not holding my breath.”

“We might find something in the boomer remains,” Daley suggested.

Todo leaned back in his chair. “You have two hours to examine that boomer,” he said quietly. “I just got word from a friend in the Mayor’s office that GENOM will be claiming the remains as soon as they get the paperwork ready. I can stall them for a short period of time, but it’s up to you to gather any clues that thing might have in it. Get going.”

*****

Buried in the basement of the building, the ADP morgue was reserved for the bodies of boomers the had either committed or been a victim of violence. Besides the type of remains that came here, it wasn’t that different from regular morgues. There wasn’t that strong a smell of antiseptic in the air, but the drawers that lined one side of the room were no different.

Leon hated it.

The attendant on duty, a short, thin guy with glasses and hangdog expression, was sitting behind a desk in one corner of the large room. Dressed in the ubiquitous white lab coat, he was typing something on the desk computer as Leon and Daley entered the room. “Inspectors,” he said mournfully as he looked up at them.

“Hiero,” said Leon in a flat tone. “Were here to take a look at that boomer we brought in last night.”

“Someone did a nice job of crunching it,” Hiero said. “Did you guys do it?”

“No. We think the Knight Sabers were responsible.”

“Looking for evidence they did it?”

“Nope,” Daley replied. “We think it’s a new design by GENOM.”

Hiero nodded. “That would make sense. I didn’t recognize it myself, though it does share characteristics of both the BU-50s and the S-33s.”

“Did you examine it?” Daley asked.

“A brief visual examination. Doctor Sakura has scheduled a detailed inspection in three hours.”

“We have less then two,” Leon said sharply. “In three hours, it’ll be back in GENOM’s hands.”

The morgue attendant sighed and stood. “I’ll set up the examination area.”

Ten minutes later, Hiero wheeled a covered body over to a slab-like table in the center of the room. With a practiced ease, he lined up the gurney with the table and slid the body, still on the gurney’s bed, onto the cold steel. The was some clanking and rattling as the remains were slid onto the table.

There was a slight smell of burnt flesh as Leon removed the sheet from the boomer remains, but all three men had smelt much worse in the past. None of them felt any revulsion at the sight of the human-like remains before them. They had seen the real thing too many times.

The boomer had been lied out in some resemblance of how it would have looked, but the body was in a number of large and small pieces. Most of the body was burnt black, but there were a few area that still held some semblance of it had looked like before it died. The skull was still mostly intact, though the fire and explosion had done their best. The torso was a collection of parts, while the arms and legs, while still mostly intact, were separated from the body itself.

Daley leaned over and peered at what used to be the boomer’s head. “I don’t see any signs of expansion,” he said, referring to the 55C’s ability to disguise itself as human, then explode out of it when needed.

“There isn’t,” Hiero replied. “There’s also no sign of any of the normal internal weapons.” The attendant picked up a severed arm. “However, this is new and in my opinion, rather nasty.”

Daley looked at him. “What?”

Hiero pointed to the fingernails, somewhat blacken, but still showing traces of red fingernail paint. “These babies are no ordinary fingernails. See the small tubes here at the base of the nails?”

Leon peered at them. “What are they?’ he asked.

“Nanites reservoirs. Somewhat similar to the system used by the ME-300 series of combat medical boomers.”

“In what way?” Daley asked.

“Well,” Hiero replied, sounding less melancholy. “The ME series used this system to create medical equipment in the heat of combat, such as scalpels, forceps and the like by using nanotechnology to manipulating the structure of its fingers.”

“Like those fusion boomer?” Leon asked.

“On a smaller scale. The reservoirs don’t contain enough nanites to cause that level of metamorphism.”

“So what does this system do on this model?” Daley asked.

The attendant stared at the blacken hand for several seconds. “Here,” he said, motioning to the fingers. “Best guess is this system is designed to metamorphous the fingernails.”

“What for?” Daley asked. “Seems a little much to repair broken fingernails.”

Leon’s expression became grim. “Or to turn those fingernails into a weapon.”

Hiero nodded. “From the design, I think the fingernails could easily become long and sharp enough to cut or stab someone.”

Daley’s eyes lit up in understanding. “The perfect assassin weapon,” he said slowly. “I don’t think you would find it unless you were looking for it.”

Leon’s eyes fell on part of the arm in Hiero’s hand. “What’s that at the elbow?” he asked, motioning to the joint.

“I don’t know.” Hiero turned the arm over to get a better look at the joint. “That’s not right.” He motioned towards a table with both medical and mechanical tools. “Screwdriver, small, cross-head. The one with the green handle.”

Daley picked up the requested tool and handed it to Hiero. After thirty seconds, Hiero had removed several small screws and a flat plate where the point of the elbow would have been on a human. “Well, well, well,” he muttered.

“What?” Leon asked in impatience.

“We have another indication that this wasn’t a simple little old domestic house boomer,” Hiero replied. “Looks like some type of shock plate.”

Daley grimaced. “How bad?”

“By the amount of wiring, I would say enough to stun a normal human with one blow. Several of those in quick succession would be enough to kill you. An ADP officer in full armor would last longer, but not by much.”

“It sounds like this is an assassin boomer,” Leon said slowly.

“If I had to bet money on this, yes.”

“Now why would GENOM want our unknown friends dead?”

Daley shrugged. “Quincy’s in a rotten mood?”

“Well, they may have been helped by the Knight Sabers,” Leon said. “Hiero, any idea what killed this thing?”

“Well, it survived several explosions, a fire, at least one round from a large caliber firearm, before several rounds from a thirty to forty millimeter cannon turned it into what you see here.”

Daley frowned. “Someone shot it with a handgun?”

Hiero pointed to the right shoulder, which was still mostly intact. “Damage there is consistent with small arms fire. I’ll need a pair of forceps and your help to remove the bullet.”

After ten minutes of probing, Hiero extracted a misshapen lump of lead about the size of his little finger. He peered at it. “Look familiar Inspector?”

“Looks like a round from my Earth Shaker.”

“Not quite. This is a slightly smaller caliber, probably a fifty caliber.”

“That’s still a damn heavy round for our unknown friends to be carrying,” said Daley.

.“Not if you were expecting to run into trouble with a boomer,” Hiero replied, “Still another piece of the puzzle. If that round had struck you, me or the average boomer, it would have torn off an arm..”

“But not on this one,” Leon said.

“Nope. Look likes that skin may have been augmented with bullet resistant weave.”

“Makes sense,” Leon replied. “Normal boomer armor is too bulky to be useful. This looks like a covert model, designed for undercover work.”

Hiero place the spent bullet into a evidence bag and handed it to Leon. “There you go. Possible evidence.”

Daley glanced at his watch. “We have about twenty minutes to finish our examination. I don’t want to be hanging around here when GENOM shows up to claim it.”

“Right,” said Leon. “Let’s get to work.”

*****

The meeting was in a seedy bar over in district twelve, and Sylia frowned as the smell of sweat, stale beer and other, less pleasant odors assaulted her nostrils. Ignoring the distaste she felt, she entered the room and strode to the bar.

There were only a few patrons in the bar this late in the morning, thought it was possible from the condition of several of them, that they were left overs from the night before. One of those who looked to be in better physical shape was leaning against the bar. Even though he was facing away from her, Sylia recognized the rumpled brown suit and the tasseled hair of her contact.

“Hello Sylia,” said Fargo without turning around as she came next to him. “Care for a drink?” he asked keeping his voice low. The bartender, a mass of muscle and tattoos, was at the far end of the bar reading a newsfax.

“Too early for me,” Sylia replied cooly.

Fargo shrugged. Sylia used him because his reputation was golden in the world of MegaTokyo’s contacts and fixers. He didn’t double deal a client, resell information, or reveal a confidence. He had been the Saber’s main fixer since the beginning, and to the best of Sylia knowledge, he had never betrayed their relationship to GENOM or anyone else.

That didn’t mean she trusted him.

“What do you need?” Fargo asked.

Sylia removed a disk from her purse. “How are your contacts inside GENOM tower?”

“Depends on what data you want.”

“I’m not here to get information, but to give some.”

Fargo looked at her. “That’s a switch,” he said.

“I have some data here that needs to get to one of the Chairman’s special assistants.”

“Mason?”

“Madigan.&# 8221;

This time, the fixer arched an eyebrow. “Now why do you want to give her anything?”

“Because it’s data that shows Mason has been acting in his own interest and not GENOM’s.”

She placed the disk on the counter, and with a smooth motion, Fargo picked it and put it into his pocket. “This is the real thing?”

“From Mason’s own computer.”

Fargo looked around slowly. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain rumor that Mason is tearing this city apart for some joker who turned his office into a baby nursery?”

“You know I won’t comment on that.”

“You know Mason is pissed.” He motioned to the disk. “This won’t help.”

“I won’t be shedding any tears for his discomfort.”

“Well, in any case, tell you friend that Mason has no sense of humor these days.”

“How long to get it to Madigan?”

“Several days at least. If the information is as damaging as you say it is, I need some time to set up the route.”

“I don’t care, as long as it gets to Madigan with a reasonable amount of time.”

“It also means I need some expense money.”

“You usual fee is already in your account. If you can get it to her within three days, I’ll double it.”

“Doubling my fee? It must really be important.”

“It is.”

“Very well.” Fargo stood and tossed several yen bills onto the table. “I will see what I can do, but I can’t guarantee the delivery time.”

“Do what you can.”

The fixer strode away. As he went out the door, Sylia was already moving. She felt some grim satisfaction, and a slight thread of gleeful anticipation at the thought of Mason being brought down by his own plans. She shook her head slightly. I’m getting as bad as Craig....