Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Bubblegum Avatar #2 "Born to be Killed" ❯ Chapter 20 - It is Time.... ( Chapter 20 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Trboturtle 
The team prepares for their most difficult mission to date. Leon gets a gift, and the Sabers begin to move....
Anime/Manga: Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Cyberpunk / Action | Type: Self Insertion | Uploaded On: 12.01.2006 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Work In Progress
The team prepares for their most difficult mission to date. Leon gets a gift, and the Sabers begin to move....
Anime/Manga: Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Cyberpunk / Action | Type: Self Insertion | Uploaded On: 12.01.2006 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Work In Progress
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Chapter 20 - “It is Time....”
**************
The next three days were busy ones for the Sabers, despite Sylia’s decreed down time. Nene hunted through every computer database he could get into, looking for anything the team could use to plan the raid. Linna split her time between sitting next to Irene’s bed and keeping Jeremy company. Priss called in a couple of favors from old acquaintances to get a view from the street. And Sylia plotted the mission, adjusting the plan whenever new data come in that effected or could effect it.
But Craig and Mackie were the busiest. The main project, the rebuilding of Craig’s suit, was tedious and time consuming, both men pulling sixteen hours of work two days straight. When Sylia found both of them asleep next to the almost assembled hardsuit , she woke them up, guided them to a pair of cots in another room of the complex, then came back and finished the reconstruction herself. By the time both guys awoke, Craig’s hardsuit was finished and ready for adjustment.
Also during this three days of preparation, Jeremy Kwan sat down and recorded a videotape everything he could remember about the superboomer project. With Sylia off-screen asking him question, Kwan related the details about the boomer’s purpose, the security efforts of GENOM and Mason in particular, the sudden death of the rest of the development team, and his rescue by the Knight Sabers. His answers were concise and straightforward, his expression calm with a touch of anger. The interview took an hour to record, and before nightfall, Sylia had half a dozen copies ready to be distributed to selected news sites and the ADP.
*****
Leon wasn’t expecting to run into Viking Johansson at the Hot Legs nightclub that night.
He had stopped by, Daley in tow, to watch Priss and enjoy a beer before heading home. When he spotted the informer sitting alone at a table on the club’s second floor, he nudged his partner and motioned toward the blond. Daley arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Leon headed for Viking, Daley trailing behind him.
Johansson was sitting at a table overlooking the dance floor below. A single glass of beer sat on the table in front of him, and he was reading. He looked up as the two ADP officers approached him. “Evening Ace,” he said to Leon, the looked at Daley. “Friend of yours?” he asked.
“My partner, Daley Wong,” said Leon, sitting down across from Johansson.
Viking gave Daley another look. “You’re his partner? My condolences.”
The redheaded inspector shrugged and he sat down. “It has its advantages,” he replied. “I can hide behind him if the fire is too heavy.”
Johansson smiled slightly. “Funny I would run into you tonight, Ace,” he said. “I was going to call you in the morning and set up a meet.”
“You have something?” Leon asked.
“I don’t know, but the people who asked me to pass it on were most insistent.”
“Who?”
The informer glanced around, rubbing his unshaved chin before he leaned forward and said, “A pair of women wearing form fitting armor.”
“The Knight Sabers?” Daley asked.
Johansson motioned with his hand to keep the sound down. “No names!” he hissed. He glanced around again. “I don’t want it to get out that I’m being used by the Sabers.”
“What did they give you?” Leon asked flatly.
Viking reached into the pocket of his over sized coat and slowly pulled out a disk case. He placed it on the table and slid across to Leon. “I don’t know what’s on the disk, and I don’t care. All the one in white said was, ‘give it to McNicoll.’ Here it is.”
Leon looked at the case. “That’s it?”
“They didn’t stay around for coffee and a chat, Ace. Meeting took less then half a minute.”
“Did they pay you?” Daley asked.
The information broker looked at him. “They gave me a good fee, Red,” he said. “In cash, in used notes. Any other questions?”
“Just one more,” Leon said, standing up. Daley followed. “What did the two Sabers looked like?”
“Women in form-fitting armor,” Johansson replied, looking up at Leon. “One in white and grey who seemed to be the leader, the other in blue and red who didn’t say anything. And no, they didn’t leave a phone number.”
“Okay, thanks.”
The two ADP officers walked away and found another table halfway across the room. After sitting down and ordering a drink, Leon leaned back in his chair and exhaled. Daley looked him bemused. “What?” the taller man demanded.
Daley shot a look back at Johansson. “Do you believe him?”
“So far,” Leon replied. “Doesn’t mean I will continue to do so in the future.”
“I wonder why the Sabers chose him to deliver the disc.”
“I don’t know.”
“Any ideas about what could be on the disc?”
“Nope.”
“Do you want to find out?”
“Not right this second.”
“Lazy tonight, aren’t we?” Daley smiled. “I’m sure you and I could do something about that.”
“Not tonight, Red. I have a headache.”
“Ah gee, Ace, you’re no fun.” Daley glanced back at Johansson again. “Do you think him and Priss. . . “
”Nope. I asked, he denied. Even offered me some advice on how to approach her.”
“Do you think he’s –“
”Nope. Besides, it’s hard enough dealing with CIs as it is.”
“He’s not my type anyway.”
Just then, there was movement on the stage below. Priss, wearing that overblown blonde wig, stalked out onto the stage as if she owned it. She gave the crowd a wide smile. “Ready to rock?” she yelled.
The crowd cheered. With a flick of Priss’ finger, the drummer started, quickly followed by the other members of the Replicators as the opening notes of 'Mad Machine’ thumped out of the sound system. Priss nodded in time to the music as she waited for her cue. When it came, she threw herself into the song with gusto.
Leon leaned back in his chair, watching Priss through half closed eyes. Dammed if that girl can’t sing, he thought, letting the music wash over him.
*****
Irene felt herself floating on a sea of darkness.
She didn’t know how long her had been in that state, or where she was, or anything. Her mind began sorting through her memories, looking for the most recent ones to explain her condition. The confrontation outside of the research complex Jeremy had been working out with that oily looking executive. . .Linna and her friend rescuing her. . .Linna taking her to a safe house in the Fault. . .The Knight Sabers. . .the attack on the safe house, and her and Linna fleeing down a narrow set of stairs. . . that high speed chase, and someone shooting a gun at them. . . the crash. . .that woman with the long fingernails. . .and the explosion. . .
She tried opening her eyes, but they wouldn’t respond. Panicked, she jerked her arms in automatic response, only to find that she couldn’t move them, as they were restrained in some way. Desperately, she tried moving her legs, only to meet the same result. She tried to scream, only there was no sound. She tried to flail, only to be unable to move. No! Her mind screamed in panic.
Then, in the distance, she head a voice. "Irene!" it said. "Please stop!"
Somehow she moved toward the voice. It sounded familiar, a man’s voice. Her father’s? No. Jeremy’s? Yes, she decided. That was Jeremy’s voice.
The voice was louder now, and more distinct. "You’re safe!" he said. "But, you’ve been seriously hurt. Don’t strain yourself!"
Hurt? She thought, then she realized what he meant. The boomer’s head exploding. Something happened to that boomer’s head!
She now became aware of other things. The soft beeping of a machine, the scraping of a chair off to her right. She felt someone holding her left hand. She tried squeezing it, only to find she had little strength in her hand and arm. "C-can’t see," she tried to say, but the words were very faint.
"As a precaution, we’ve dulled your optic nerves to limit your sensory load," a new, strange voice said. "The drug will wear off in a couple of days."
"Good," Jeremy said soothingly, and it was only then that Irene realized she had stopped struggling. She felt something warm and moist on the back of her left hand. A kiss? "Don’t try to talk," he continued. "Would you like some water? Nod once if you do."
She moved her head, or at least she thought she had. She had her answer a few seconds later when something moist and cold dribbled into her mouth. She swallowed the water greedily, but it ended too soon for her liking. "More," she whispered.
"That’s enough for now," the second voice said. It sounded somewhat familiar, but sounded odd to her. "Irene, can you heard me? Nod once if you can."
This time, the nod became a little easier to do. "Good," the new voice said. "I am the White Saber. Do you remember meeting me at the safehouse?"
Irene nodded again. "All right," the White Saber continued. "As your fiancé said, you are safe, but you have been injured. In order to save your life, one of my team had to take a dangerous shot. They killed the boomer, but I’m afraid that you were struck by several pieces of shrapnel. Your arms were severely injured, and you have been disfigured."
Irene stiffened. Disfigured? Would Jeremy still love her, or leave her as soon as he could? Either not noticing Irene’s reaction, or choosing to ignore it, the White Saber said, "Luckily, your injuries are not permanent. I promise that when you are strong enough, you will get a new face. Do you understand?"
The injured girl nodded slowly. "L-Linna?" she croaked.
"You friend is fine. She will be here in a day or two."
Linna. She would have to talk to Linna. But now, she felt herself drifting under again. She thought about fighting it, but she went under before she could make the decision.
*****
It was close to midnight when the Sabers assembled inside the Lady633 building. Sylia looked at each one of her team as they stood around a table that was projecting a hologram of the target factory. She sensed edginess from Priss, concern and worry from Linna, uneasiness from Nene, and a coldness from Craig that was very unlike him. Mackie was watching his sister with some concern.
"Nene has managed to hack a copy of the original floor plans of this place," Sylia said, motioning to the hologram. "The explosions and fire wreaked the north wing of the factory. As far as I can tell, there’s ben no effort to do anything in the way of rebuilding there."
"That would be noticeable," Craig said.
Sylia nodded. "We’re going to concentrate on the central and south wings. Team one, which will be myself, Priss and our motorslaves, will take the south wing and try to draw out any defenders. Team two, Linna, Nene Craig, and their motorslaves will take the central wing." She looked at both Linn and Craig. "Nene’s going to be monitoring for several things, so it’s up to you two to protect her. Once she’s located the lab, we move in and destroy everything we can find."
"What about any people?" Linna asked.
"Avoid firing if possible, though I doubt there’s going to be many humans there."
"Mason?" Craig asked, spitting the word out like a curse.
"No hunting," Sylia replied, giving Craig a stony stare. "If you see him, and it doesn’t compromise the mission, eliminate him. Otherwise, the mission comes first." Craig nodded, but he still looked grim.
Sylia looked around the table. "By looking at the episode of the series, we have an idea of what to expect in the way of defenses. Female C-class boomers, and this red superboomer. But I cannot stress enough that this isn’t going to be the same thing. For one, there’s more the one superboomer."
"How many more?’ Priss asked, folding her arms over her chest
"At least three to five," Sylia replied
"Shit," Priss hissed.
"How many black boxes?’ Linna asked.
"One that we know of," Sylia replied. She looked over at Nene. ""But we have a way to track the black box. Nene?"
"Um. . ." the redhead said. "The data that Craig recovered from USSD headquarters did contain data on a subprogram that when activated, will allow the box to be tracked."
"Good," said Mackie.
Nene shook her head. "The problem is, I’m not sure which radio frequency will activate the tracking signal. I’ve narrowed it down to one of several frequencies, and I’ve written a program to cycle through them once we’re inside the factory, but there’s no way of know where the box is until the signal is activated."
"Great," Priss muttered. 'This is sounding better and better."
"Never said it was going to be easy," Craig said.
"This isn’t going to be easy," Sylia said. "But we do have a couple of advantages. We know what we’re facing, we have a way of tracking down the black box." She looked at Craig. "You’ve fought these female boomers. What are they like?"
"Fast," Craig replied. "I don’t know if the fingernails will penetrate our armor, but the shock caps in their elbows and knees are nasty against unarmored skin. I recommend that we try and avoid hand to hand combat with them."
"That maybe difficult, but keep it in mind. Anything else?"
"They don’t have either the armor or the strength of the 55s, and their limbs are just as vulnerable as ours are, especially at the joints. Dangerous, but we’ve faced worse."
"Speak for yourself, rookie," Priss said.
"Start suiting up," Sylia said. "Craig, when your suited up, I have a job for you."
*****
Half an hour later, Craig was standing on a roof of a building near the Lady633. Dressed in his hardsuit, he was lost in the shadows of an air conditioning unit. The sniper rifle attachment was in place, sticking out over his right shoulder. "Black to White," he said softly. "In position."
"Good," Sylia replied. "Thirty seconds."
Craig located his target. The car was in a space on the seventh floor of the parking garage. It was a dark colored sports car, just like the ones the female assassin boomers had used. He flipped his helmet’s viewing to night vision. There was only one occupant in the car, female, attractive in a cold way, staring at the penthouse on top of the Lady633 building.
Doubt crossed his mind, but he ruthlessly pushed it to the back of his sanity. No innocents in the way here, just a artificial killer waiting for its chance to carry out its programing. A god dammed killer toaster, who had no pity, no compassion and no soul.
"Not today, you bionic bitch," Craig hissed as he shifted the crosshairs so they rested on the boomer’s head. He took a deep breath, held it, and tighten the trigger.
The heavy round slammed through the windshield of the sports car as if it wasn’t there and struck Trivia a couple of millimeters to the right of her nose. The shockwave shattered or pulped nearly everything in the boomer’s head before it exited out the back of its head, leaving a fist-sized hole in its wake. The shockwave also shattered the boomer’s cranium, destroying it, and the other car windows. Headless, the boomer slumped over the wheel.
"Black to White. The Rook has been taken."
"Understood. Rendezvous at point Warsaw in seven minutes."
"Understood. Time to make the doughnuts."
Chapter 20 - “It is Time....”
**************
The next three days were busy ones for the Sabers, despite Sylia’s decreed down time. Nene hunted through every computer database he could get into, looking for anything the team could use to plan the raid. Linna split her time between sitting next to Irene’s bed and keeping Jeremy company. Priss called in a couple of favors from old acquaintances to get a view from the street. And Sylia plotted the mission, adjusting the plan whenever new data come in that effected or could effect it.
But Craig and Mackie were the busiest. The main project, the rebuilding of Craig’s suit, was tedious and time consuming, both men pulling sixteen hours of work two days straight. When Sylia found both of them asleep next to the almost assembled hardsuit , she woke them up, guided them to a pair of cots in another room of the complex, then came back and finished the reconstruction herself. By the time both guys awoke, Craig’s hardsuit was finished and ready for adjustment.
Also during this three days of preparation, Jeremy Kwan sat down and recorded a videotape everything he could remember about the superboomer project. With Sylia off-screen asking him question, Kwan related the details about the boomer’s purpose, the security efforts of GENOM and Mason in particular, the sudden death of the rest of the development team, and his rescue by the Knight Sabers. His answers were concise and straightforward, his expression calm with a touch of anger. The interview took an hour to record, and before nightfall, Sylia had half a dozen copies ready to be distributed to selected news sites and the ADP.
*****
Leon wasn’t expecting to run into Viking Johansson at the Hot Legs nightclub that night.
He had stopped by, Daley in tow, to watch Priss and enjoy a beer before heading home. When he spotted the informer sitting alone at a table on the club’s second floor, he nudged his partner and motioned toward the blond. Daley arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Leon headed for Viking, Daley trailing behind him.
Johansson was sitting at a table overlooking the dance floor below. A single glass of beer sat on the table in front of him, and he was reading. He looked up as the two ADP officers approached him. “Evening Ace,” he said to Leon, the looked at Daley. “Friend of yours?” he asked.
“My partner, Daley Wong,” said Leon, sitting down across from Johansson.
Viking gave Daley another look. “You’re his partner? My condolences.”
The redheaded inspector shrugged and he sat down. “It has its advantages,” he replied. “I can hide behind him if the fire is too heavy.”
Johansson smiled slightly. “Funny I would run into you tonight, Ace,” he said. “I was going to call you in the morning and set up a meet.”
“You have something?” Leon asked.
“I don’t know, but the people who asked me to pass it on were most insistent.”
“Who?”
The informer glanced around, rubbing his unshaved chin before he leaned forward and said, “A pair of women wearing form fitting armor.”
“The Knight Sabers?” Daley asked.
Johansson motioned with his hand to keep the sound down. “No names!” he hissed. He glanced around again. “I don’t want it to get out that I’m being used by the Sabers.”
“What did they give you?” Leon asked flatly.
Viking reached into the pocket of his over sized coat and slowly pulled out a disk case. He placed it on the table and slid across to Leon. “I don’t know what’s on the disk, and I don’t care. All the one in white said was, ‘give it to McNicoll.’ Here it is.”
Leon looked at the case. “That’s it?”
“They didn’t stay around for coffee and a chat, Ace. Meeting took less then half a minute.”
“Did they pay you?” Daley asked.
The information broker looked at him. “They gave me a good fee, Red,” he said. “In cash, in used notes. Any other questions?”
“Just one more,” Leon said, standing up. Daley followed. “What did the two Sabers looked like?”
“Women in form-fitting armor,” Johansson replied, looking up at Leon. “One in white and grey who seemed to be the leader, the other in blue and red who didn’t say anything. And no, they didn’t leave a phone number.”
“Okay, thanks.”
The two ADP officers walked away and found another table halfway across the room. After sitting down and ordering a drink, Leon leaned back in his chair and exhaled. Daley looked him bemused. “What?” the taller man demanded.
Daley shot a look back at Johansson. “Do you believe him?”
“So far,” Leon replied. “Doesn’t mean I will continue to do so in the future.”
“I wonder why the Sabers chose him to deliver the disc.”
“I don’t know.”
“Any ideas about what could be on the disc?”
“Nope.”
“Do you want to find out?”
“Not right this second.”
“Lazy tonight, aren’t we?” Daley smiled. “I’m sure you and I could do something about that.”
“Not tonight, Red. I have a headache.”
“Ah gee, Ace, you’re no fun.” Daley glanced back at Johansson again. “Do you think him and Priss. . . “
”Nope. I asked, he denied. Even offered me some advice on how to approach her.”
“Do you think he’s –“
”Nope. Besides, it’s hard enough dealing with CIs as it is.”
“He’s not my type anyway.”
Just then, there was movement on the stage below. Priss, wearing that overblown blonde wig, stalked out onto the stage as if she owned it. She gave the crowd a wide smile. “Ready to rock?” she yelled.
The crowd cheered. With a flick of Priss’ finger, the drummer started, quickly followed by the other members of the Replicators as the opening notes of 'Mad Machine’ thumped out of the sound system. Priss nodded in time to the music as she waited for her cue. When it came, she threw herself into the song with gusto.
Leon leaned back in his chair, watching Priss through half closed eyes. Dammed if that girl can’t sing, he thought, letting the music wash over him.
*****
Irene felt herself floating on a sea of darkness.
She didn’t know how long her had been in that state, or where she was, or anything. Her mind began sorting through her memories, looking for the most recent ones to explain her condition. The confrontation outside of the research complex Jeremy had been working out with that oily looking executive. . .Linna and her friend rescuing her. . .Linna taking her to a safe house in the Fault. . .The Knight Sabers. . .the attack on the safe house, and her and Linna fleeing down a narrow set of stairs. . . that high speed chase, and someone shooting a gun at them. . . the crash. . .that woman with the long fingernails. . .and the explosion. . .
She tried opening her eyes, but they wouldn’t respond. Panicked, she jerked her arms in automatic response, only to find that she couldn’t move them, as they were restrained in some way. Desperately, she tried moving her legs, only to meet the same result. She tried to scream, only there was no sound. She tried to flail, only to be unable to move. No! Her mind screamed in panic.
Then, in the distance, she head a voice. "Irene!" it said. "Please stop!"
Somehow she moved toward the voice. It sounded familiar, a man’s voice. Her father’s? No. Jeremy’s? Yes, she decided. That was Jeremy’s voice.
The voice was louder now, and more distinct. "You’re safe!" he said. "But, you’ve been seriously hurt. Don’t strain yourself!"
Hurt? She thought, then she realized what he meant. The boomer’s head exploding. Something happened to that boomer’s head!
She now became aware of other things. The soft beeping of a machine, the scraping of a chair off to her right. She felt someone holding her left hand. She tried squeezing it, only to find she had little strength in her hand and arm. "C-can’t see," she tried to say, but the words were very faint.
"As a precaution, we’ve dulled your optic nerves to limit your sensory load," a new, strange voice said. "The drug will wear off in a couple of days."
"Good," Jeremy said soothingly, and it was only then that Irene realized she had stopped struggling. She felt something warm and moist on the back of her left hand. A kiss? "Don’t try to talk," he continued. "Would you like some water? Nod once if you do."
She moved her head, or at least she thought she had. She had her answer a few seconds later when something moist and cold dribbled into her mouth. She swallowed the water greedily, but it ended too soon for her liking. "More," she whispered.
"That’s enough for now," the second voice said. It sounded somewhat familiar, but sounded odd to her. "Irene, can you heard me? Nod once if you can."
This time, the nod became a little easier to do. "Good," the new voice said. "I am the White Saber. Do you remember meeting me at the safehouse?"
Irene nodded again. "All right," the White Saber continued. "As your fiancé said, you are safe, but you have been injured. In order to save your life, one of my team had to take a dangerous shot. They killed the boomer, but I’m afraid that you were struck by several pieces of shrapnel. Your arms were severely injured, and you have been disfigured."
Irene stiffened. Disfigured? Would Jeremy still love her, or leave her as soon as he could? Either not noticing Irene’s reaction, or choosing to ignore it, the White Saber said, "Luckily, your injuries are not permanent. I promise that when you are strong enough, you will get a new face. Do you understand?"
The injured girl nodded slowly. "L-Linna?" she croaked.
"You friend is fine. She will be here in a day or two."
Linna. She would have to talk to Linna. But now, she felt herself drifting under again. She thought about fighting it, but she went under before she could make the decision.
*****
It was close to midnight when the Sabers assembled inside the Lady633 building. Sylia looked at each one of her team as they stood around a table that was projecting a hologram of the target factory. She sensed edginess from Priss, concern and worry from Linna, uneasiness from Nene, and a coldness from Craig that was very unlike him. Mackie was watching his sister with some concern.
"Nene has managed to hack a copy of the original floor plans of this place," Sylia said, motioning to the hologram. "The explosions and fire wreaked the north wing of the factory. As far as I can tell, there’s ben no effort to do anything in the way of rebuilding there."
"That would be noticeable," Craig said.
Sylia nodded. "We’re going to concentrate on the central and south wings. Team one, which will be myself, Priss and our motorslaves, will take the south wing and try to draw out any defenders. Team two, Linna, Nene Craig, and their motorslaves will take the central wing." She looked at both Linn and Craig. "Nene’s going to be monitoring for several things, so it’s up to you two to protect her. Once she’s located the lab, we move in and destroy everything we can find."
"What about any people?" Linna asked.
"Avoid firing if possible, though I doubt there’s going to be many humans there."
"Mason?" Craig asked, spitting the word out like a curse.
"No hunting," Sylia replied, giving Craig a stony stare. "If you see him, and it doesn’t compromise the mission, eliminate him. Otherwise, the mission comes first." Craig nodded, but he still looked grim.
Sylia looked around the table. "By looking at the episode of the series, we have an idea of what to expect in the way of defenses. Female C-class boomers, and this red superboomer. But I cannot stress enough that this isn’t going to be the same thing. For one, there’s more the one superboomer."
"How many more?’ Priss asked, folding her arms over her chest
"At least three to five," Sylia replied
"Shit," Priss hissed.
"How many black boxes?’ Linna asked.
"One that we know of," Sylia replied. She looked over at Nene. ""But we have a way to track the black box. Nene?"
"Um. . ." the redhead said. "The data that Craig recovered from USSD headquarters did contain data on a subprogram that when activated, will allow the box to be tracked."
"Good," said Mackie.
Nene shook her head. "The problem is, I’m not sure which radio frequency will activate the tracking signal. I’ve narrowed it down to one of several frequencies, and I’ve written a program to cycle through them once we’re inside the factory, but there’s no way of know where the box is until the signal is activated."
"Great," Priss muttered. 'This is sounding better and better."
"Never said it was going to be easy," Craig said.
"This isn’t going to be easy," Sylia said. "But we do have a couple of advantages. We know what we’re facing, we have a way of tracking down the black box." She looked at Craig. "You’ve fought these female boomers. What are they like?"
"Fast," Craig replied. "I don’t know if the fingernails will penetrate our armor, but the shock caps in their elbows and knees are nasty against unarmored skin. I recommend that we try and avoid hand to hand combat with them."
"That maybe difficult, but keep it in mind. Anything else?"
"They don’t have either the armor or the strength of the 55s, and their limbs are just as vulnerable as ours are, especially at the joints. Dangerous, but we’ve faced worse."
"Speak for yourself, rookie," Priss said.
"Start suiting up," Sylia said. "Craig, when your suited up, I have a job for you."
*****
Half an hour later, Craig was standing on a roof of a building near the Lady633. Dressed in his hardsuit, he was lost in the shadows of an air conditioning unit. The sniper rifle attachment was in place, sticking out over his right shoulder. "Black to White," he said softly. "In position."
"Good," Sylia replied. "Thirty seconds."
Craig located his target. The car was in a space on the seventh floor of the parking garage. It was a dark colored sports car, just like the ones the female assassin boomers had used. He flipped his helmet’s viewing to night vision. There was only one occupant in the car, female, attractive in a cold way, staring at the penthouse on top of the Lady633 building.
Doubt crossed his mind, but he ruthlessly pushed it to the back of his sanity. No innocents in the way here, just a artificial killer waiting for its chance to carry out its programing. A god dammed killer toaster, who had no pity, no compassion and no soul.
"Not today, you bionic bitch," Craig hissed as he shifted the crosshairs so they rested on the boomer’s head. He took a deep breath, held it, and tighten the trigger.
The heavy round slammed through the windshield of the sports car as if it wasn’t there and struck Trivia a couple of millimeters to the right of her nose. The shockwave shattered or pulped nearly everything in the boomer’s head before it exited out the back of its head, leaving a fist-sized hole in its wake. The shockwave also shattered the boomer’s cranium, destroying it, and the other car windows. Headless, the boomer slumped over the wheel.
"Black to White. The Rook has been taken."
"Understood. Rendezvous at point Warsaw in seven minutes."
"Understood. Time to make the doughnuts."