Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Bubblegum Avatar #2 – "Born to be Killed" ❯ Chapter 17 - “Blood on the Moon” ( Chapter 17 )

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

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Chapter 17 - “Blood on the Moon”

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Linna drove the van at slightly higher then the speed limit. Irene was huddled in the seat next to her, looking pale and worried. The explosion back at the apartment building had startled her, and she wasn’t responding well to the sudden violence.

“Are we safe?” she asked, looking and sounding more like a scared child.

Linna glanced in the rear view mirror. “I don’t know.”

“What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace safe.”

“Then what was that back there?” Irene screeched.

Linna couldn’t answer that one. She glanced up into the mirror again and she frowned. A pair of headlights were there, about fifty meters behind them. “Buckle up,” she said. “I think we’re being followed.”

“What?” Irene wailed she spun around in her seat to look behind them, but Linna placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Buckle up,” the Knight Saber repeated, then reached for the radio lying on the console between the two of them. Glancing up at the rear view mirror, she spoke into the communication device. “Green to White. We may have a Rook on our tail.”

“Are you sure?” Sylia asked.

“No, but whoever is behind us wasn’t there when we left the building.”

“Understood. I’m vectoring Blue and Black to you. Keep moving and let them take care of them, if it is a Rook. We’ll be a couple of minutes behind them.”

“Understood. Green out.” Linna dropped the radio and pressed down on the accelerator. The van picked up speed.

Irene was too busy buckling her seat belt to take notice of the conversation, but she did notice the van speed up. “What are we going to do?” she asked.

“Stay ahead of whoever it is,” Linna replied. “The Knight Sabers guarding us made it out of the building before it exploded, and they’ll meet up with us.” She looked in the side mirror and saw the headlight behind them speed up. She increased speed.

*****

Cahira expression, if one was to see it right then, was a predator’s grin. The car she drove was a late model sports car, re-engineered by GENOM to be faster and more responsive then the normal. With Cahira’s enhanced reflexes, the vehicle could out-run and out corner nearly any other vehicle on the planet. So pursuing a van was no difficult task for her.

She reached down for the phone and dialed the number without looking. “Yes?” said the voice of her master.

“This is Cahira,” the blonde said. “The retrieval of the package failed. Freya met more resistance then she expected. She has been relieved of her duties.”

“And her team?”

“They have also been relieved.”

“Oh?” Largo’s tone didn’t sound surprised. “My colleague will be most upset. What sort of resistance did Freya and her team meet?”

“I believe that the expected on-hand staff decided to close the post office permanently.”

“I see. What are you doing now?”

“The staff sent the package out before the post office was closed. I am chasing them now.”

“Any sign of the staff?”

“Not yet, but I know I can take care of the package before they show up.”

“Do so. I have a couple of contractors nearby, and I am dispatching them to you to assist. Anyone who tries to stop you from taking care of the package is to be fired.”

“Yes, Sir.”
“Call me when you are done.”

“Understood, Sir.”

Her master broke the connection and Cahira increased speed. She reached for a small suitcase on the seat next to her. Without looking at it, she opened the case, removed the snub-nosed machine gun from its compartment and rolled down the driver’s side window. She though about just riddling the van with bullets, but the possibility that her target would survive was too great in her logic. No, she would use the machine gun to stop the van, and kill her target with her finger blades. Close up, so she could watch her die.

That idea pleased her greatly.


*****

Several blocks farther back, two motorcycles flew down the street. A blue armored figure on a red bike was two bike-lengths ahead of a black armored figure on a black bike. The people on the sidewalks, use to seeing strange things in the Fault, stared as the two motorcyclists dodged through traffic and racing through intersections. Horns blaring, drivers cursing, and several minor accidents were left in the wake of the two.

“White to Blue,” Sylia said over the radio. “Green says there’s a Rook after her and the Queen.”

“Shit!” Priss hissed. “Where are they?”

“Six blocks ahead of you. You and Black take out the Rook. I’m closing in to pick up Green and the Queen.”

“Right!” The singer glanced behind her. Craig was hunched over the handlebars, his body language telling her he was not a happy guy. Tough shit, she thought.

A quick glance ahead told her the road was clear for half a block. She slowed down, allowing him to pull up next to her. “Green’s in trouble,” she said over her hardsuit’s loudspeaker. There’s a Rook chasing her.”

“We’re taking it out?” Craig asked.

“You guess it. Time for some real speed!” She accelerated, leaving rubber and smoke in her wake. Hissing to himself, Craig followed, thought not quite as fast.

*****
Linna felt a lump of ice form in her stomach as the headlight in her rearview mirror suddenly became larger. The roar of a powerful engine was becoming louder, and she knew she and Irene were not out of trouble yet.

“Who is that?” Irene wailed.

“Someone trying to kill us,” Linna responded cooly. “Now stay as low as you can in the seat and be quiet.” Irene nodded and did her best to slide down into the seat.

An intersection was coming up fast. With one eye on the headlight, Linna started through the intersection, ignoring the traffic light that gleamed amber in preparation to change to red. Suddenly, she jammed on the brakes and spun the wheel to the right, accelerating even as the van fish-tailed, sending smoke and the smell of burned rubber out behind her. The van shot forward, increasing speed as it raced into the side street.

The car behind them reacted smoothly, making the turn with more control and less violence. It quickly gain back the dozen meters it had lost to Linna’s abrupt turn, then cut the distance between them to less then half a dozen meters. In the rear view mirror, Linna saw an arm come out of the driver’s side window. And the hand was –

Linna violently yanked the wheel to the left just as the machine gun opened fire. Several thunks from the rear told Linna that several of the shots had struck the van. She hunched over the steering wheel, eyes flickering nervously from the rear view mirror to the side mirror, to the front and back again. Another bust raked the rear of the van, shattering the rear window. Irene screamed and covered her head with her arms.

The traffic was slow to respond to the sudden war that had erupted among them, but once a couple of cars that had gotten between the dark colored sports car and the bullet-riddled van were also chopped apart by slugs, other drivers and any pedestrians quickly got out of the way. Smoke and steam filled the air, along with the sounds of screams, squealing brakes, revving engines, and screeching metal as the bystanders fled from the chase.

Linna hunched over the wheel, trying to stay as low as she could while still being able to see the road. Irene was curled up in her seat as best as she could, eyes closed and sobbing loudly. The dancer reached for the radio, taking several seconds to grope for it. “Green to White,” she hissed into. “Where are you?”

“Four minutes away,” Sylia said calmly. “Blue and Black are two minutes away.”

“We don’t have two minutes!” Linna snarled. “We’re being shot at!” As if to prove her point, another burst of machine gun fire ripped through the van, sending sparks flying inside the vehicle.

“I’m on my way,” Sylia said. “Keep straight for two more blocks and make a right onto Umbatta. I’ll be in position by then.”

“Right.” Linna dropped the radio onto the seat next to her and concentrated on keeping her and Irene alive.

*****

“You bored again?”

Leon yawned. “Not really.”

Daley sighed, leaning on the steering wheel and watching the traffic light. “Don’t we have enough on our plates to keep you involved?”

Leon stretched. The passenger seat of the police interceptor was in its fully reclined position, and the tall Inspector was comfortably lounging. “All we have is a lot of questions with no answers.”

“Which doesn’t explain why we’ve been cruising around the Fault for the last couple of hours.”

“Instinct,” Leon replied.

“Is that what you call it?” Daley asked. “Your singer turn you down again?”

“We’re looking for Viking.”

The redheaded Inspector looked at his partner. “Why are you looking for him?”

“Why are we looking for him,” Leon said. “We need a lead. Viking could supply it.”

“Do you trust him?”

Leon yawned. “More than I trust GENOM,“ he replied. “He seems to have an angle no one else does. “I’ve already checked his normal haunts, but no luck there.”

“And how are we going to find him by riding around the Fault?” Daley asked.

Just then, the sound a machine gun fire could be heard. To their rear, cars were veering out of the way of a small blue van that was driving far too fast for its own good. By instinct, Daily yanked the police car to the right and slammed on the brakes, flinging both Inspectors forward in their restraints. The van shot by at a high rate of speed, ignoring the honking horns and drivers’ cursing.

“Feel like a little – ” Leon began, but a fast moving spots car flew past them, fire spitting from the driver’s door. “Er...did you see what I just saw?”
“A spots car chasing another car, and the driver of the sports car shooting at the first car?”

“Yeah.”

“You did.”

“Oh hell,” Leon muttered, as Daily turned on the lights and sirens and sent the car after the running battle. “Here we go again....”


*****

“White to Blue,” Sylia said over the radio. “We have ADP involved.”

“Shit!” Priss snarled. “How many?”

“One car so far, but Green and her pursuer are creating havoc, traffic-wise. N-police are being despatched. My ETA is one minute to Green and the Queen. What is yours to the Rook?”

“About thirty seconds,” Priss replied.

“The Rook is still your primary concern.”

“Understood.”

Priss hunched over the handlebars of her bike and glanced back at Craig. He was still behind her, a little farther back then she would have liked, but still hanging in there. “Hang on Linna,” she muttered, “we’re coming.”

*****

Linna snapped the van’s wheel to the right, sending them down the alley. She ignored the screech of metal on concrete as she ever so slightly misjudged the van’s entry into the narrow alley. Next to her, Irene was curled up in as much of a ball as her seatbelt would allow, silent except for the wild breathing.

No time to worry about her, Linna thought, glancing up at the rear view mirror, only to find it slightly askew from the van’s rough treatment. A glance at her side mirror revealed that the glass was gone, and the frame twisted, and beginning to break away from the door. She quickly readjusted the rear-view mirror just in time to see her pursuer.

As before, the sports car made the turn smoother and cleaner, losing no ground to the van. Fortunately, the alleyway was too narrow for the boomer to stick her arm out and fire at the van. That wouldn’t last for much longer as the end of the alley was approaching rapidly.

The van shot out of the alley and Linna yanked the wheel hard to the left. Only this time, she felt the steering wheel become mushy as she pulled upon it. She had only two seconds to realize that the van was not going to complete the turn when the wheels struck the curb and sent the vehicle flying sideways into the building. All Linna had time to see was something about pawns before her side of the van slammed into the storefront.

The sound of airbags deploying barely registered in Linna’s mind before she was violently thrown up against her door. The side airbag was just fast enough to keep the dancer from being killed by the impact, but it was still hard enough to stun her.

Immediately, Linna’s perceptions went completely sideways. Her hearing became dull, like she was underwater, and her sight was almost gone. Her body felt heavy, and her thoughts not there, after a few seconds, she could taste copper, a dull taste that didn’t cut through her haze. She was dimly aware of someone yelling at her and shaking her, but the words were muffled and indistinct. She slowly rolled her head in the direction, and saw a face that seemed familiar. She tried to recall who it was, but she couldn’t. Then, her sight faded completely and she dropped into the darkness.

*****

Cahira eased the car to a stop twenty meters away from the wrecked van. She climbed out of the car and began to walk towards the van, changing magazines in her machine pistol as she did so.

*Backup in place,* said a gravely male voice over she private network. *We are standing by.*

*Understood,* Cahira replied silently. *I am moving in to kill the target. Be on the lookout for Knight Sabers and the ADP.*

*Understood,* the male replied. *We are standing by.*

Cahira didn’t know where her back up team was, but they were close. She pilled the bolt back on her machine pistol. A quick burst should take care of both targets, allowing her to escape before the police arrived. As she continued her walk, part of her mind plugged into the police network and located all the police cars in the area. With the exception of the sole ADP car that had been pursuing them, none of the police cars were within ten minutes of the scene. Even the ADP car was several minutes away, caught up in the wake of the chase.

The van had struck the storefront sideways, embedding itself halfway into the store. As she approached the vehicle, the passenger door slowly opened. Instantly, Cahira snapped the pistol up and pointed it at the woman who half fell, half staggered out. Within a second, it had compared the picture of Irene Cann (Chang) with the wild-eyed figure staring at it, and found a 97.345% correlation between the two. All it would take would be a quick squeeze....
No. Cahira lowered the pistol. Somehow, it didn’t seem right just to shoot her. Instead, a more....painful way of killing the target came to mind. It would stick to the original plan of using its fingernails to kill the target. It still had time, and it would make more of a statement to the Knight Sabers then simply shooting its target.

It crossed the distance between them with swift, sure steps, thrusting the machine pistol into the skirt’s waistband as it did so. The target started to move away, but Cahira reached out and grabbed her by the neck and pulled her back. It slammed the target up against the side of the van and gave her a cold smile. The target blanched at the sight of it.

While holding the target by the throat with its left hand, it held up its right hand in front of her face and sent the command for the fingernails to grow. Slowly, they extended, until they were about twenty centimeters long and razor sharp.

The target squealed and tried to break free from the boomer’s grip, but there no way for her to get any leverage, as her feet were dangling a full twenty centimeters above the ground. She tried striking at the entrapping limb, but the arm was like iron, and her blows were weak at best. With a quick slash from one of its fingernails, Cahira opened a cut along the girl’s cheek, the leaned in and licked the blood welling from the cut. The target stiffed in fear, and Cahira smiled. It was time....

*****

“Shit!” Priss hissed.

The streets were almost empty, but there were enough bystanders around to witness the unfolding drama. The few who were in the street hurriedly stepped back as the motorslaves came flying around the corner and onto the scene being acted out.

Priss just manage to catch sight of Irene being brutally smashed up against the side of the van. She hunched over the motorslaves handlebars and gunned the engine, making as much noise as she could as she roared towards the boomer at full throttle. They were still fifty meters away, but with Irene trapped against the side of the van by the female boomer, they couldn’t cover that distance before the boomer killed her. But she had to try, damn it!

It took her several seconds to realize she had forgotten about Craig, but by then she was too close to the boomer to look for him.

Then the boomer’s head exploded.

*****

As soon as Craig could see the C-class boomer clearly, he skidded to a halt and leapt off his bike. By the time his feet hit the ground, the sniper rifle was dropping into place and was aiming.
“Shit,” he snarled as the crosshairs framed the boomer’s head. Unfortunately, the boomer was leaning forward and licking Irene’s cheek, making any shot impossible because of the closeness of Irene to the target. “Lean back, you biomech bitch,” he muttered. As if hearing him, the boomer leaned back. but its free arm pulled back in the unmistakable motion of a stab about to be delivered, and he could see the fingernails were deployed. He had no choice. No time left.

He fired.

The SLAP II, a fifty caliber, armor piercing round designed to punch through the heavy armor of a BU-55C, struck Cahira just behind the left ear. The size of the round, combined with the Mach one plus speed it was traveling was instantly fatal to the boomer. The large caliber round crashed through the pseudo-skin and armor weave, cored several of the more important layers of the bio- mechanical brain before it struck the central processing unit and fragmented it. While much reduced in velocity, the bullet continued on its way, exploding out Cahira’s right temple in a riot of synthetic blood and manufactured gore before becoming lost in the wreckage of the store.

However, the shockwave caused by the bullet did much more damage....

Cahira’s head exploded as the bullet passed through, the round’s exit lost in the blast as the coldly beautiful features were forever destroyed. The result was the pieces scattered in every direction like shrapnel from a grenade.

Irene was about a third of a meter away from the explosion.

*****

Priss watched in horror as the boomer’s head exploded, Irene screams cut off as it was lost in the hard low crack of the detonation. She was still thirty meters away, but Priss could see Irene slump to the ground, trailing blood down the side of the van as the boomer’s body relaxed, then also collapsed to the ground.

“Shit!” she snarled. “Blue to White, the Queen is down! I say again, the Queen is down!”

“What happened?” Sylia demanded

“Black removed the Rook, but the Queen took a face full of shrapnel.”

Sylia’s tone was cool. “ETA thirty seconds.”

“Right.” Priss leapt off her bike, launching herself into the air. As soon as she was clear of the bike, she sent the command to the motorslave to convert. By the time she landed on her feet and raced for the van, her motorslave was in full humanoid mode, scanning the area for any other threats. She raced towards the van, her hardsuited augmented strides covering the distance nearly as fast as an Olympic sprinter. There was no doubt in Priss’ mind the boomer was dead. She had known that as soon as she saw the bullet strike. But Irene....

She reached the van. With a quick motion, she picked up the boomer’s body and threw it away from the van. The body flew through the air, landed several meters away, bounced, then rolled to a stop. Priss didn’t watch the body flight, but kneeled down to examine Irene.

The singer felt the bile rise in her throat as she got the first good look at the girl, but fought the urge to throw up. Irene must have managed to get her arms up just as the explosion occurred, because both of then were bloody and broken. But her face....

She felt someone land next to her, but it was only when Sylia spoke did Priss realize it was the White Saber. “Check on Linna,” the leader of the Knight Sabers said.

“Shit!” Priss snarled, surging to her feet and moving toward the front of the van. She leaned into the van and looked at her team mate. “Linna!” she hissed through the loudspeaker.

The dancer stirred. “What?” she murmured.

“Wake up!” Priss said, touching Linna on the shoulder.

Linna’s eyes flickered open and she groaned. “What the hell?”

“Are you all right?” Priss asked sharply.

“I...I don’t know,” Linna replied, moving slowly and wincing in pain. “What happened?”

“Gray!” Priss heard Sylia call out over the radio. “I need the truck here now! Call ahead to Base One and tell the doctor we have a Code Omega! Blue, how is Green?”

“She’s alive,” Priss replied.

“Help her out and go see about Black.”

Linna was moving more now, but still wincing in pain. She managed to unbuckle her seatbelt. “What happened to the boomer that was chasing us?”

“Dead,” the Blue Saber replied

“Irene?”

“I don’t know. White’s looking at her now.”

A look of fear crossed Linna’s face. “What happened?”

“I’ll explain later. Can you move?”

“I guess so. What happened to Irene?”

A screech of brakes made Priss turn to look behind her. The truck that served as the Saber’s mobile base was now there, engine idling. The side door opened and a figure wearing a leather jacket and a full motorcycle helmet with the visor down appeared, carrying a stretcher under one arm and a box under the other. It sprinted toward the wrecked van..

“What’s going on?” Linna demanded, fully aware of her surroundings now.

“The boomer’s dead, but Irene is hurt,” Priss said. “White’s looking at her now.”

“How badly is she hurt?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t look good.”

Linna began to climb out of her chair, wincing as she did so. “I need to see her!” she said
frantically.

“Worry about yourself first,” Priss said. “Can you get out by yourself?”

Linna nodded, then crawled over the passenger’s seat and the open door. Priss pulled back to allow her the room.

“Blue,” said Sylia sharply. “Go see about Black.”

“Shit!” Priss muttered. “Where is he?”

“I don’t see him,” Sylia replied, her tone now distracted. “And without his radio, I can’t contact him.”

Priss turned and jogged to where she had last seen Craig, at the intersection. She ignored the scene next to the van, keeping her eyes on the spot she was heading for. She noticed the street was deserted, the few people who had been around when they had arrived clearly not wanting to get involved with the Police, the Knight Sabers, or boomer assassins. She saw a dark lump near the middle of the intersection which she recognized as Craig’s bike, but there was no sign of Craig himself. She scanned the area before her suit’s audio receivers picked up the sound of someone nearby retching.

It took her a couple of seconds to pinpoint the location as an alley about a dozen meters from where Craig’s bike laid. She moved swiftly to the mouth of the alley, feeling some frustration at not being able to use the radio.

She spotted someone of their hands and knees next to a dumpster, and from the reflective glint in the feeble light of the alley, it had to be Craig. As she got closer, she could see that he had raised his visor and was trying to throw up. From the vomit on the ground already, it was clear that he had been doing it for some time.

“Blue to White,” She said into her radio. “I’ve found Black. He isn’t in great shape.”

Sylia’s tone was clipped and flat. “Is he hurt?”

“No, but he’s been puking his guts up in an alleyway. I think he knows what happened to Irene.”

“Get him back to the truck right now,” Sylia said, in her command voice. “Irene’s alive, but she needs major medical treatment and she needs it now.”

“Right.” Priss continued to walk toward Craig.

When she was three meters away, Craig said in a rough voice, “Go away.”

“I can’t. We need to get out of here and do it now.”

Craig waved at her in a manner of dismissal. “I don’t care,” he rasped. “Leave me alone. I’ll find my own way home.”

“Bull shit, I’m not leaving you alone.”

He leaned back, then moved into a sitting position. “I killed her,” he said in a low, numb tone of voice. “We were suppose to protect her, and I...fucked up......”

Priss knelt, flipped her visor up and grabbed Craig’s helmeted head in both her hand. She noticed that he winced as she did so, but she continued. His face was bloody from a cut on his forehead, and there were flakes of vomit around his mouth. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his expression was one of a lost child, seeking his parents, but knowing the search was useless.

“Listen,” Priss hissed, staring into his eyes. “Irene is alive, but badly hurt. You had no choice when to shoot. The boomer was about to kill her. Now, get your ass in gear and let’s get the fuck out of here!”

She saw him react as the news settled in. She released her grip on his helmet and stood up. “Need a hand?”

He looked up at her. “She’s still alive?” he asked. “You’re not yanking my chain?”

“White says she is. And on something like that, I don’t yank chains.”

He nodded and stood up unsteadily. There was still a haunted look in his expression, but Priss saw signs of another emotion beginning to display itself in his eyes – anger. “You realize Mason is a dead man,” he said in a soft, level voice. There was no hint of anger, amusement, anything of an emotional tone in the statement, despite the enragement in his eyes.

“I know,” Priss replied. “We can’t stay here.”

Craig nodded. “Just so we are clear,” he said.

“We are. Let’s get back to the van.” Priss snapped down her visor again, then motioned for Craig to do the same. He closed his visor slowly, then nodded.“Blue to White,” Priss said on the radio. “We’re on our way.”

“Hurry. Pink has fifteen police cars converging on this spot.”

“Right.” Priss motioned to Craig to follow, and used her suit’s jump jets to launch herself into the air. She arced through the air, landing just outside the alley. As she adjusted herself for her next jump, the sounds of tires squealing off to her left demanded her attention.

Even as she realized the car was coming right at her, she was moving, launching herself back into the alley. She managed a functional, if unsophisticated, handspring that took her clear of the car’s path, but her foot slipped as she landed, and she fell onto her stomach. she rolled onto her back and was starting to rise when the car slammed into the mouth of the alley.

The alley was narrower then the car was – just. But the car still managed to wedge itself in the alley....

And right on top of Priss.

There was no time to react as the front of the car slammed into the Blue Saber hard enough to knock her down again. Even as she fell, the car’s momentum was still sufficient to roll up on her. Had she not been wearing her hardsuit, her legs would have been crushed by the momentum and weight of the car. As it was, the front of the car slammed down on her legs, pinning her in place.

“Shit!” Priss swore, desperately trying to pull herself out from under the wreckage. Stream drifted from under the hood of the car, and small pieces of bricks from the damaged walls pelted the car.

“White to Blue, are you all right?” Sylia asked sharply.
“Shit!” Priss snarled again. “I’m trapped!”

Just then, the roof of the car began to buckle, as something began to ripped its way out. A blue metal hand and arm ripped through the roof. Another arm joined the first, and the arms began to widen the hole.

“Boomers!” Priss shouted, increasing her attempt to drag herself out from under the car.

“Get clear!” Sylia shouted.

“I can’t!” Priss shouted back. “I’m trapped!”

The hole in the car’s roof was now large enough for one boomer to climb out, and one was doing so, shreds of pseudoflesh and cloth hanging from its face and arms. Its red eyes scanned the alley, then stared down at Priss. Something like a grin etched itself on its face, and its mouth dropped open as it deployed its mouth laser.

Priss brought up her rail gun, but another Boomer rose from the wreckage to join the first. “Shit!” Priss snarled yet again, firing her rail gun, aiming for the first boomer’s head. The boomer snapped its arm up, taking the spikes in its bulky forearm. Some smoke drifted from the boomer’s forearm, but when the boomer lowered the arm, its smile was still there.

It was still smiling when a dumpster came sailing out of the darkness of the alley and smashed into it. The weight and momentum of the oversized missile sent the boomer back into the car, orange fluid spattering the walls of the alley

The second boomer snarled and launched itself from the car and onto the hood. Priss screamed in pain as the extra weight put even more pressure on her trapped legs. Just then, a pair of trash cans came flying out of the shadows. With contempt, the boomer brushed them aside, but couldn’t brush aside the flying sidekick that slammed into its chest. The boomer flew back over the car, landed in the middle of the road rolled and got to its feet.

A figure landed next to Priss. “Are you all right?” Craig growled over his hardsuit’s loudspeaker.

“I’m trapped!” she hissed.

“Stay here,” he said, then catapulted himself over the car and at the boomer. Cursing, Priss sat up and tried to push the car back to free her legs. After a few seconds of complete failure, she tried lifting the car, with the same results.

After a few more seconds of swearing, Priss felt someone land next to her. She started to point her railgun at it, but before the weapon come on target, she recognized the figure as a team mate. “About time!” she said with a mock growl.

“Hold on,” Linna said, her voice unsteady and weak. The green hardsuit moved forward and placed her hands under the front of the car. “You push, I lift,” she said. “On three. One...two...Three!”

For two seconds, nothing happen. Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, the car moved up and back just enough to allow Priss to slide her legs out from under it. “Thanks,” she said.

“Can you move?” Linna asked worriedly.

Priss got to her feet. “I’m bruised, but I don’t think anything’s broken.”

“Good. Let’s get back to the van.”

“Where’s Craig?”

“There,” Linna said, pointing at the street.

The Black Saber was fighting the boomer he had kicked out of the alley – hand to hand. It took Priss only a few seconds to see this was a brutal and ugly fight. A few more dents now were visible in Craig’s armor, but the boomer was missing an arm, most of its jaw, and was leaking fluids from several deep slashes in its chest and legs. Strangely, it was Craig pressing the attack, fists, feet and sword blade blurs in the night air.

“What the hell?” Linna asked.

“We’d better go help him,” Priss said.

They both leapt over the car, but before they join the fight, Craig finished it.

The boomer swung its remaining fist at Craig’s head. The Black Saber’s response was to block the arm, grab it with his right hand. Craig’s left arm snapped up and the twin lasers bore into the boomer’s head. Shaking, the boomer tried to step back, but Craig wasn’t finished. He released the boomer’s arm, unleashed the sword blade on the suit’s right arm and started slashing with short, powerful strokes. The boomer tried blocking and countering, but the sword blade bit deep in the boomer’s right knee, showering the lower leg with fluid. The boomer staggered and dropped to one knee, but the Black Hardsuit continued its attack, the blade biting into the head, torso and remaining arm as quickly as he could swing it.

Finally, a swing bit through the boomer’s neck and the boomer’s head fell away from its body. It bounced away, fluid spraying the surrounding area and Craig. Undeterred by his enemy’s death, the Black Hardsuit continued with his attack, even as the boomer’s body collapsed. He slashed it twice more before it hit the ground, then started stabbing and slashing at the still struggling corpse. Even as the dying movements of the boomer slowed and stopped, Craig continued to hack and slash at the body, sending fluid and bits of boomer flying.

“Oh crap!” Priss hissed. “I think he’s lost it!”

The sirens were getting closer, louder every second. Still Craig continued his assault on the boomer corpse.

Priss and Linna ran towards Craig, Priss shouting in her radio. “Blue to White! I think Black has lost it!”

“Get him!” Sylia said sharply.

As the pair of Knight Sabers reached their male comrade, the truck roared up and slid to a stop several meters from them. Sylia stepped out and the three of them moved in and grabbed Craig, Priss grabbing his right arm, Linna the left and Sylia around the neck as they hauled the struggling Craig off the boomer. “Mackie!” Sylia barked, “Delta Black!”

All of a sudden, Craig slumped and relaxed. “Get his Bike,” Sylia said to Priss. “We’ll get him into the truck.”

Priss raced over, picked up the black bike and started wheeling it toward the truck. The truck backed up, cutting the distance between it and the team to a few meters. Without slowing, Priss guided the bike up the ramp and inside. The other Sabers dragged Craig’s dead weight into the truck and in seconds, they were gone.