| VIGILANTE'S RUN Chapters 1 - 5 A Bubble Gum Crucible Fanfic - Second in the Series By Craig A. Reed Jr. (trboturtle@aol.com) |
|---|
| Index: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |
|---|
The Bubble Gum Crisis OVA's (which this story is based on) are copyrighted by Artmic Inc. and Youmex, Inc. I am just borrowing the characters for a little while for non-monetary reasons. I can be contacted at the Email address above. Serious C&C will be accepted, out-and-out flames will result in a Boomer or two being sent after you, once they get around to building them.Please, enjoy my take on the Bubble Gum Crisis universe . . .
Chapter 1
Area between Piers 234 and 235 District 9 February 10, 2036 3:48 a.m. The hard faced man stopped to light a cigarette. Taking a long drag, he stared out into the darkness. He readjusted the assault rifle sling to a more comfortable position, and silently cursed his luck. The warehouses nearby were the only witnesses to the man's anger. The shoreline warehouse district was deserted at this time of the night. No one came down here after dark. Even the normal police didn't patrol this area too tightly, and the only thing that would get the AD Police down here this time of night would be a runaway Boomer. The boss was adamant that the area was to be heavily guarded while the cargo was unloaded from the ship. The man snorted in disgust at his boss's caution. No one would be stupid enough to attack a warehouse owned by the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza. Even the AD Police would think twice before raiding the dock. But the boss wouldn't listen. If the rumors were right this time, he might have reason to overreact. There were stories circulating among the men about disasters on the US West Coast. Several important operations had supposedly been wiped out by an unknown strike force. And the Boss did look and sound agitated when he'd addressed the men before he sent them out to patrol the area. The guard shrugged. Maybe there was something going on. All he knew for certain that here he was, walking a guard post on the edge of the security perimeter. All because Kenichi owes me three thousand Yen from last week's card game. He took another drag from his cigarette. This way, if the police try a surprise raid, I'm dead, or in prison, and Kenichi doesn't have to pay me ANYTHING. He was so wrapped up in his anger, he failed to hear the scraping sound at first. When he did, he stood there, trying to place the sound. It sounded like metal scraping against concrete, coming from between two warehouses twenty meters away. Clumsily, he unslung his rifle, reached for the radio, then hesitated. The boss has us spooked, he thought. He sees police everywhere, and now he has us jumping at shadows. Care- lessly, he dropped his cigarette, and crushed it out with his shoe. He pulled the rifle's bolt back, released it and slowly moved toward the sound. The hardman was ten meters from the nearest warehouse when he saw something move toward him. He raised his rifle and - Something hard and sharp slammed into his torso. He dropped the rifle, and stared down at the metal spike planted deep in his chest. Moving slowly, he reached up to pull it out, only to have his knees give way. With a look of shock on his face, he fell onto his side. The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was the night sky. A shadow detached itself from the blackness, stared down at the dead guard for several seconds, then moved on, leaving the dead man in a growing pool of blood.
Pier 234 District 9 February 10, 2036 3:56 a.m. The pier was lit up brightly for this time of night. Most of the lights were directed at an aging cargo ship docked alongside the pier. One hundred forty meters long, the rust streaked sides gave the hull an unhealthy look, and the ship's superstructure looked ill and unkept. Forward of the ship's bridge, a single large cargo hatch was open in the ship's hull. The small army of trucks on the pier could drive directly onto the ship to receive the cargo. For this delivery, the ship was called Akagi Maru, but names meant nothing to the ship's captain, or his crew. Its cargo also meant little more then earning a huge profit. This time it was a load of weapons bound for an insurgent movement somewhere in southeast Asia. Tomorrow, it would be another cargo for another destination. On the pier itself, Hoshi, the man in charge of the unloading of the weapons watched the operation nervously. Tall and thin, he looked more like an undertaker then an underboss in the Yakuza. In this case, looks were deceiving, for Hoshi was ruthless when he had to be. It was this combination of looks and merciless where needed that marked him as an up and comer in the organization. Tonight was an important step toward securing his future. But Hoshi was still nervous. The Oyabun's orders were clear and precise when Hoshi was informed of the responsibility of guarding the shipment that afternoon. "You cannot let anyone interfere with this operation," the Oyabun said to him. "Our recent setbacks in the United States have come close to crippling us. The entire organization is at risk. Do not fail us." The Oyabun did not elaborate on the setbacks in the US, and that worried Hoshi. He motioned to one of his lieutenants, a moon-faced man by the name of Kenichi, who was standing nearby. As the man rushed over, Hoshi thought again of the security he'd arranged for this operation. He commanded forty of the organization's soldiers tonight, bolstered by two dozen of the best prospects from the local gangs. All were armed with assault rifles or machine guns, and all were old hands at extreme violence. A dozen soldiers were arrayed in a perimeter guard, ready to raise the alarm at the first sign of trouble. The rest stayed close to the ship, ready to react to any threat as Hoshi saw fit. Kenichi came to a stop next to Hoshi. "Yes Hoshi-sama?" "I want the perimeter guard to start checking in every five minutes from here on out, instead of every fifteen minutes." Kenichi looked puzzled, but nodded. He spoke into a hand-held communicator, and listen for several seconds. He frowned and spoke into the communicator again. After several more seconds, he looked up, and Hoshi saw the look of fear. "Hoshi-sama?" Hoshi stared at him. "What is it?" "Sir, Wantebe has failed to respond to the new orders." "What is his post?" "Sector seven," replied Kenichi, pointing off toward pier 235. "Permission to send a team to investigate?" "Yes. Tell them -" A loud hissing sound announced the arrival of Hoshi's worse fears. A dozen missiles flew out of the night, and struck a trio of trucks parked near the unloading ship. The explosions tore open the night sky with brilliant light, turning the trucks and their cargo into piles of burning wrecks. Shouts and screams echoed along with smaller explosions and the cracking of flames. Hoshi grabbed Kenichi and yelled, "Take five men and get the rest of the trucks off this pier!" As the startled hardman dashed off into the night, Hoshi quietly pulled out a pistol and knelt behind a small pile of packing crates. He saw two of his lieutenants start to rally the surviving soldiers. Several of them headed in Hoshi's direction, and he waved them over to the safety of the crates. The leader, a thin man by the name of Usago told Hoshi, "Sir, Fujahema wanted us to try to pin down the bastards while he and Tanaka flanks them." The Yakuza underboss pointed to the dark outline of the pier's warehouse "The missiles came from there." "Right." Hoshi grabbed a hand communicator from his pocket. "Hoshi to Akagi Maru. When I give the word, I want you to shine your searchlights at the warehouse." "Akagi Maru to Hoshi." The voice sounded panicked. "We're getting out of here -" "If you value your life, or your business dealings with us," snarled Hoshi. "You will do as I order. Understand?" The voice sounded resigned. "Akagi Maru understands. We're manning the searchlights now." Usago and his men opened fire where Hoshi had pointed. From other parts of the pier, more soldiers opened fire at the warehouse, and for twenty seconds there was nothing but the ripping of automatic weapons. Hoshi watched as a couple dozen lines of fire converged on the darkened warehouse. As the fire continued, Hoshi saw two groups of men make a short dash toward the warehouse, careful to stay out of their comrade's fire. Then came silence, as the street soldiers exchanged empty magazines in their weapons for full ones. The two groups reached the warehouse, and Hoshi saw both Tanaka and Fujahema motion their readiness. Hoshi turned and waved to the ship. Several beams of light reached out from the ship, and focused in on the large squat building. Without hesitating, the soldiers charged through the open doors into the warehouse. The high-pitched whine of a minigun starting up alerted Hoshi that something was wrong. For thirty seconds, there was nothing but the rattle of two dozen automatic weapons, accent- uated with the minigun's reply, and several screams of pain and terror. Hoshi looked at Usago in worry. From inside the warehouse, there were several shouted orders to retreat. The minigun stopped firing. Half a dozen mobsters stumbled out of the warehouse. Several of the mobsters turned and fired backed into the warehouse. The minigun opened up again, and all the retreating gangsters were cut down in a matter of seconds. The minigun stopped long enough to change targets, then opened up on the Akagi Maru, sending several dozen rounds smashing through the ship's searchlights. The lights shattered, plunging the warehouse into darkness again. The minigun then moved onto the lights surrounding the pier, and destroyed them in a shower of explosions. In the meantime, Kenichi and his men reached the remaining trucks. In a matter of seconds, the trucks were driving off into the darkness. After the sounds of the trucks faded, there was silence for several seconds. Hoshi hands were clammy as he spoke into the communicator. "Tanaka, Fujahema, report! What happened?" Silence answered him. "This is Hoshi! Tanaka, answer me! Fujahema, report! What happened?" An electronic hiss was followed by a cold voice that chilled Hoshi to the bone. "They can't answer, Hoshi," the voice answered in perfect Japanese. "None of your men you sent in here can answer you now." "Who is this?" the Yakuza leader demanded, his gut burning with anger and fear. "You can call me Nemesis," the voice replied. "Who do you work for?" "I work for no one, Hoshi, save Justice." Another volley of missiles flew out of the surrounding darkness and slammed into the Akagi Maru's hull. The missiles tore through the metal and added their explosions to the symphony of destruction already occurring on the pier. The graveyard voice said, "Tell your Oyabun that the days of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza are numbered. I am here to collect a debt that can only be paid in blood - his blood." Out of the darkness, Hoshi saw a shadow moving. Was it one of his men? No, it moved too calmly, too assured, as if it owned the battlefield. Shouting to the men near him to open fire, Hoshi raised his pistol to fire at the shadow. But something slammed into his shoulder, knocking him over. He screamed in pain, but the scream was drowned out by the minigun's whine. The crates that he and his men had been used as a shield offered no protection against the minigun's fire. The rounds cut through the crates, and stabbed into the men shielding behind them. After several seconds, the minigun's whine died away. Hoshi got up slowly, and stared at the spike sticking out of his shoulder. Blood streamed from around the wound, spreading slowly across his shirt. The pistol dropped from his now life- less hand, and clattered to the ground. A charge of pain shot through his body, crumpling him to his knees. He gritted his teeth, fighting hard to prevent the wave of unconsciousness from claiming him. He heard something moving toward him, and he looked up. A large black figure strode up to him and stared down at him. It stood a meter taller then him, its black metal skin gleaming in the flames. A large, multi barreled, minigun was attached to the right arm, wisps of smoke still coming from the barrels. At first, he thought it was a Boomer, but after looking closer, he saw it was a hardsuit of some type. A white stylized skull was painted where the face would be. No other markings marred its cold back surfaces. With sick certainty, Hoshi knew that this enemy was the one who had avoided the tremendous firepower unleashed against the warehouse, and killed his men. "You will live long enough to tell the Oyabun I am here," the hardsuited figure said, the voice still cold and unforgiving. "You . . . will . . . die," replied Hoshi through gritted teeth. "I swear it." "Never make promises you can't keep, Hoshi." The hard suited figure turned toward the ship. "ATTENTION, ALL CREW MEMBERS OF THE AKAGI MARU!" the figure boomed. "MY NAME IS NEMESIS. YOU HAVE THREE MINUTES TO ABANDON SHIP BEFORE THE MINES I HAVE SET AGAINST THE HULL DETONATE!" A small group of Hoshi's men decided to make their attack at that moment. They charged at Nemesis from the other side of the pier, guns blazing. Hoshi flinched as his men's bullets glanced off the Hardsuit's armor, and flew off into the night. Nemesis turned slowly and watched them for several seconds before he raised the minigun and opened fire. The entire group reacted as if they hit an invisible wall. After the minigun stopped firing, none of the soldiers were standing. Hoshi stared at their bodies. "You killed them!" he blurted out. "This is a war, Hoshi-san," replied Nemesis calmly. "They knew the risks, they had their chance to walk away. They didn't take it." With that, Nemesis turned and walked away into the smoke. A number of explosions some distance away made Nemesis turn and look at Hoshi. In the smoke, he looked like a demon "That was Kenichi and the trucks he was escorting. I took the opportunity to mine the main road against the possibility. You better have someone help you, Hoshi. You have only two minutes and thirty seconds before the mines go off." With that, the figure disappeared into the night, leaving Hoshi in the ruins of his failure.
Chapter 2
Pier 234 District 9 February 10, 2036 6:16 a.m. Leon McNichol yawned again. He looked down at the remains of the breakfast sandwich in his lap, sighed, and picked it up. "Well, Doctor," asked Daley Wong. "Professional opinion. Is it eatable?" "Not after what I saw on the main road," replied Leon, tossing the remains out the car's window. "I now know why they banned land mines." Daley shrugged as he guided the police car to a stop between two warehouses. A group of normal police prevented Daley from going any farther. "Messy, but effective. The few mines that those trucks didn't hit melted down into a slag of metal before the normal police arrived on the scene." "So, why did the normal police want a couple of AD Inspectors at this time of the morning?" Daley climbed out of the car. "To give them some of our hard won experience in warfare?" "Funny, Daley," mumbled Leon, as he slammed his door. He stared at Daley over the roof of the car. "You took the call. What did they tell you?" "They said that the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza fought a battle here last night, and came up on the short end of the final score." Leon sighed. "Let's go and find the officer in charge." They walked the rest of the way, passing through the outer ring of police. They passed several police evidence technicians performing a search among the cracked concrete slabs for clues. When they come in sight of the pier, they both stopped and stared at the scene of carnage. Daley whistled, and Leon muttered, "This wasn't a battle, it was a fracking WAR. The pier was full of normal police, mostly uniformed, performing a grisly, but necessary job. They were moving carefully amongst the shattered remains of burnt out vehicles, shattered packing crates, and sheet covered forms that had to be bodies. A worn-looking cargo ship was tied up at the end of the pier, and even Leon could see that she was sitting too low in the water. "I wonder who's stupid enough to take on the Yakuza," said Leon quietly. "Clearly someone with a death wish," replied Daley. "Who in the hell are you two?" shouted a voice off to their right. "Speaking of death wishes," muttered Daley. "Trouble." A tall, blonde woman with striking features stalked over to them. She glared at them, hands on hips. "This is a police matter, so get the hell off -" "Anderson!" bellowed a male voice. A short, beefy man with a thick neck and eyebrows stormed over to the trio. "What are you doing?" "Ejecting a couple of spectators," she snarled, pointing a thumb at Leon and Daley. "Anderson," said the man in a low rumbling voice. "Those two 'spectators' are from the AD Police. I asked that they be brought in on this case." "Listen, Captain," hissed Anderson. "I don't need the help of a couple of AD clowns to solve this case. I -" "ENOUGH!" bellowed the Captain. "You will work with them, or you can go on suspension. Your choice." "FINE!" the woman said. She shot the two AD inspectors a venomous glare and stalked off. "That woman is out to kill me," muttered the Captain. He stuck out a hand. "Captain Holmes, Ninth District. Sorry for the reception." Leon took the hand. "That's all right, Captain. Inspector Leon McNichol. My partner, Inspector Daley Wong." Holmes eyes widen slightly as he shook Daley's hand. "So the chief sent us the first team?" Leon shrugged. "Business is slow this time of year." He looked around. "What do you have that needs AD police involvement?" "Let's hit the highlights." Holmes pointed to the ship. "The Akagi Maru. It's been on the Custom Patrol's list for the past five years, under six different names. Somebody planed half a dozen mines on its hull, and blew out the bottom. It's got enough illegal weapons still in its cargo holds to start a major war." He motioned to the burnt out truck shells. "Somebody hit those trucks with a missile strike. With the weapons they had onboard, I'm surprised the entire pier didn't go up. And you saw what happened to the trucks that managed to get off the pier." Leon gave a low whistle. "And the bodies?" Holmes gave him a tired smile. "All members of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza proper, or allied street gangs. We've got thirty-two confirmed dead, another dozen wounded - of which five may not make it through the day." Daley shrugged. "The Sleeping Dragons having problems with any of the other gangs?" "No. Sato's too smart to leave himself open to a power struggle. He's set up a non- aggression pact with all the other major criminal gangs - if any of them violated the pact, the others would crush them." "So someone's working under the table," said Leon. Holmes shook his head. "I save the best for last. Over here." He led them toward one of the warehouses. There was another grouping of bodies there, as well as something covered with a clear sheet of plastic. He pointed to what the sheet covered. "We found this, along with several hundred fifteen millimeter shell casings as his calling card." Both Daley and Leon looked down at what Holmes pointed to. Someone had burned a large, stylish N inside a circle into the concrete slab. That was inside a triangle, which had one point directly pointing toward the cargo ship. "Oh, shit," said Leon in a stunned tone. "Nemesis is here?" Daley frowned. "Who?" "Nemesis." Leon's tone became grim. "He's a hi-tech hardsuit vigilante who goes after criminal gangs and destroys them with a vengeance. And I mean 'with a vengeance'. He's wiped out several organized crime syndicates over the last four years, all based in the USA." "It has all the earmarks of one of his strikes," said Holmes. "No innocent bystanders, the attack planed with military precision and executed without flaw, and this marker. One of the wounded was mumbling something about a `skull-faced angel of death' when they loaded him into the ambulance." "Isn't he outside his usual base of operation? This is the first time I've heard him operating outside North America." "We've picked up rumbles that the Sleeping Dragon's had some trouble in San Francisco in the last three months. Seems Nemesis is here to finish the job he started in the US." "Now I know why you wanted the ADP in on this," said Daley, shaking his head. "His hard- suit and tactics put him out of your reach, and into ours. This guy could start a gang war that'll make the Boomer uprising look tame in comparison." "Exactly." Holmes face was grim. "Sato won't take this lying down, and he'll be one of the more restrained ones. I can think of three gang leaders that would go off the deep end if Nemesis hit them, with several others who I wouldn't bet against. We're sitting on a powder keg, and Nemesis is playing with matches." "We're in," said Leon, his tone final. "Anderson's the lead on this case?" "Yea, and you know how she feels about you guys already. She's solid and tough, but a bit too proud for her own good." "Sounds like a girl I know." Leon adjusted his sunglasses. "Come on Daley, let's charm the detective with our wit and charm." "I've got the wit and charm, what are you supplying?" "The good looks, of course." Daley sighed. "Of course." They walked away from the Captain. Leon's face had a smile, but he was thinking about a vigilante named Nemesis . . .Holton Junkyard Co. District 5 February 10, 2036 7:31am The trash truck drove through the open gates of the junkyard and slowly drove to the rear of the yard. Shielded by a high stone wall and several massive piles of junk, no one could see the truck drive toward a massive pile of rubbish piled near the back wall. At the last second, a portion of the junkpile moved aside, revealing a ramp sloping downwards. Without slowing, the trash truck went down the ramp. As soon as the truck passed through, the disguised door closed. In a matter of seconds, there was no evidence that there had ever been a truck there. The ramp was short, and lead into an underground structure a third of the size of a base- ball field. An extensive workshop lined one wall of the chamber. Along the opposite wall, several prefab rooms held the sleeping areas. Beside the garbage truck, several other vehicles were parked in the cavern, ready to be used. Most of the caverns was in darkness, except for several small lights scattered around. The truck glided to a stop in the middle of the cavern. The door opened and the imposing figure of Nemesis stepped out. He was followed out by a short, broad-shouldered man with a graying crewcut. "Smitty," said Nemesis in English. "Where are you?" A short, thin man with sharp features emerged from the darkness. He wore stained over- alls, and was wiping his hands on a rag. "Right here, sir," he said in a nasal twang. "How did the strike go?" "Perfect. Sato lost somewhere around three quarters of a billion yen in weapons, a large number of men, and a lot of face." "And we managed to take Hoshi out of the picture for a while," said the man with the graying crewcut. "The police channels said he was still alive when they took him into surgery." He looked at the hardsuited figure. "I still don't know why you left him breathing." "I had a good reason, Sarge," said Nemesis. "I wanted Hoshi to tell Sato I was in town." Smitty moved over to the vigilante. "How did the minigun perform?" A hiss of air, and Nemesis removed the helmet. "Better then I expected," he replied. "The reduction in the size didn't affect the performance in anyway. Tasked with the other weapons in this heavy hardsuit, it's a welcome addition to the arsenal." Smitty broke into a smile. "Need a hand getting out of that?" Nemesis shook his head. He was younger then either of the other two men, and his dark hair wasn't quite as short. Green eyes set far apart in a tanned face that had the look of someone who spent much time outside. As he opened his hardsuit, he asked, "Where are Maria and the Doc?" "Still sleeping. They spent a lot of time reworking the electronics over the last few days, Sir." "And it showed. The missiles were right on target, and the railgun worked well." He finally stepped out of the hardsuit. "I'm going to take a shower, grab a bite to eat, then catch some sleep." "I'll double-check the hardsuit over for any problems, then catch some sleep myself, Sir." "Good," replied Nemesis, walking away. "Now that I have Sato's attention, I want to keep the pressure on. Sarge, tell Maria when she wakes, I want a list of Sato's top money making operations ready for tonight's missions." "I'll tell her." Sarge's face lost its cheerfulness. "You know Sato's not going to take this lying down." "I know," Nemesis turned to look at both of them. "But I can't think of backing off now that I have his attention. Sato and the rest are jackals preying on innocent people. They under- stand only force, so that is how I reply to them." He walked away, leaving Smitty, Sarge and the Hardsuit standing in the middle of the chamber.
Chapter 3
AD Police Headquarters February 10, 2036 9:32am "Nene!" Nene Romanov turned at the sound of her name. Leon had just stuck his head in the small room that held the ADP's computer security office, a smile on his face. Daley stood behind him, looking bemused. Now what? she thought, watching the two of them stride into the room. Uh-oh, Leon's smiling at me. This could be trouble. She'd been a sergeant for over a month now, and already she was wondering if maybe she'd made a mistake in accepting the promotion. Sure, there was a hefty increase in pay, but her responsibilities had increased tenfold. Daley had promoted her to the position of "Computer Security Officer," which meant she had to keep the Hackers out of the ADP computer systems. Of course, since she was one of the Hackers who regularly slipped into the system, she knew most of the in and outs already. Several holes the systems she and Alan Tremolini, the other half of the ADP's Computer Security Office, managed to plug with some success, but several others were not easy to correct. THEY were driv- ing her crazy. They didn't seem to affect Alan though. Linna had said he was even tempered, but Nene hadn't realized HOW even tempered he was. I wonder what would happen if I lit off a fire- cracker under Alan's chair . . . She shoved those thoughts aside, and smiled at Leon. "What's up, Leon?" she asked brightly. Leon smiled back. "I need all the data you can find on a vigilante who calls himself Nemesis. His usual base of operations is North America, so see if you can get into the FBI computers. How soon can you get the data?" "Give me a couple of hours," replied Nene thoughtfully. "What happened?" "It appears that Nemesis has taken a working vacation," replied Daley "And chosen Mega- Tokyo for his trip." He briefly outlined what happened in District 9. Nene eyes widened as Daley described the scene on the pier. After Daley finished, Nene nodded. "I'll get right on it. Can you give me a couple of hours?" Leon pulled something out of his wallet and laid it on Nene's desk. She swallowed her shout of glee as she saw it was a dessert coupon from Siroccos. "Make that an hour and a half," she amended, picking up the coupon and slipping it into her purse. "Thanks, Nene. I know I could count on you." Leon glanced at his watch. "We'd better get moving Daley. We have a briefing with Detective Anderson in half an hour. I hope she's in a better mood then she was this morning." "Don't blame me," replied Daley as they left. "I was witty and charming. She just wasn't impressed with your good looks." "That's what I like about you, Daley. Your sense of tact." Nene looked at her computer screen as the two officers left her. Now, where to start? INTERPOL for the basics, the FBI for the details I think. I think Sylia might want to know what's going on. Alan Tremolini walked in, a steaming cup of tea in one hand, a file under his arm. "Morning, Boss," he said cheerfully. He was of medium height, squat, average looking, and wore glasses. His dark hair, with a few white hairs showing, was shorter and neater then it had been when Nene first met him, and he was clean shaven. "Morning," Nene mumbled back. Alan placed the tea on his desk, looked at Nene over his glasses, then sat. He stretched. "What are you doing?" he asked in disinterested tone. "Leon wants data on a vigilante who calls himself Nemesis. They think he was behind an attack in District 9 last night." "Nemesis? Hold on, I think I can help there." Alan opened a drawer in his desk and starting sorting through a pile of computer disks. After several minutes, he pulled one out of the pile and handed it to Nene. "This should cut out most of your work." Nene glanced down at the disk. Printed in garish red ink across the top was the word NEMESIS. She looked at Alan. "How do you happen to have this?" she asked. Alan shrugged. "I'm an informational packrat by nature. When things get slow, I go out into the computer networks, looking for interesting data." He held out several more disks for Nene's inspection. She noted that two of them were marked KNIGHT SABERS. "How current is this?" she asked, holding up the Nemesis disk. "Should be within a couple of months." "Can I use this?" Alan shrugged. "Why not? I'm sure not getting much use out of it." "Thanks, I owe you one." "No problem. What's on the docket today, Boss?" Nene turned back to her own computer, inserted the disk, and skimmed its contents. Alan hadn't been kidding when he'd said the disk was current. "Give me fifteen minutes to update the disk from the FBI files, and then we'll start by seeing if we can plug that hole in the air duct monitoring sub system." "I'll start by double checking several of the smaller modules first." "It's a plan. Let's get to it." After several minutes of working, Nene slipped out of her cubical and snuck a peek at Alan. He'd slipped on his earphones, and was lost in the music and lines of code. Moving quickly, Nene slipped out an empty data disk out of her purse, and inserted it into the other disk drive. In a matter of minutes, she'd copied all the data from Alan's disk onto the empty disk, including the updates from the FBI. Another glance to make sure that Alan was still occupied, and the copy disk went back into her purse. "All done," she called out. "Good. I've checked module F-12 through F-23. Why don't you start with module F-24, and check the even number modules, I'll take the odd number ones." "Fine by me." They spent the next hour tracing and eliminating security holes in the air duct moni- toring sub system. Nene sighed as two of her back doors into the system were eliminated, but she couldn't do anything about it. Despite his laid back attitude, Alan was no slouch in the programming department. Anything she'd tried to weave into the modules now, he'd spot. She glanced up at the clock, and noticed it was close to eleven. She stood up and picked up the disk. "Time for a break. I'd better run this Nemesis file up to Leon now." "Want to go have lunch afterwards? My treat." "As long as it isn't the cafeteria." He snorted. "There's a little Italian restaurant three blocks from here," he said with a shrug. "After looking at all that spaghetti code, I'm ready for the real item." "All right, you're on. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes."
Shikichi Sato's home District 4 February 10, 2036 10:51am Shikichi Sato was a small sparse man, neatly groomed, who usually looked more like an accountant then the Oyabun of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza. But he didn't look much like an accountant now. He glared at the three men standing in front of him, trying hard not to let his temper explode. "Ichitaro, has Hoshi-san regained consciousness yet?" he said in a low, tight voice. "No sir," replied the man in the middle. Norihisa Ichitaro was a thin man with a high forehead and a pained look on his face. He was the gang's wakagashira, or second in command, and one of the few people Sato trusted completely. It was his job to uncover the facts behind the destruction of the weapon shipment. "According to my sources at the hospital, he has lost a lot of blood. He is not expected to awaken for several hours still. He told one of the men before he passed out that Nemesis was here." Sato glanced at the man on his left. "What about those that survive the attack on the pier? What is their story?" Kazuo Honjuji was the youngest man in the room by more then a decade. A smooth-faced man, he appeared too weak to be a criminal boss. But he'd earned his position as so-honbucho, or headquarters chief, through his own hard work combined with a streak of practical ruthless- ness. "They all agree that it was one person in a hardsuit," he said carefully. "And the description of the hardsuit matches the one Nemesis wore in San Francisco when he disrupted our operations there." Sato felt his anger building. "I want security at all operations increased. Use every available man and weapon. How many Jager battlesuits do we have?" "Twelve," replied Ichitaro. "We have enough experienced men to man them all." The Oyabun nodded. "We'll use them as our mobile reaction force. If Nemesis attacks one of our targets, our men are to fight to hold him there, while the reaction force moves in." "What about the combat Boomers we have?" asked Masahiro Satoru, the man standing on Sato's right. He was a small sparse man wearing an expensively tailored suit. As one of Sato's saiko koman, or senior advisers, he was mostly concerned with Sato's image to the city and the rest of the world. His normal expression of pleasant indulgence had been replaced with concern. "Might it be advisable to use them instead of the Jagers?" "Only if we need to," replied Sato. "We have to show the others we can handle a lone mad- man without resorting to the level of violence that Boomers represent. One should not use a spear to kill a tiger if a bow and arrow will suffice." "And if we cannot?" "Then we will use the Boomers." "What do we tell the others gang leaders?" asked Honjuji. Part of his responsibilities was dealing with the other major organized criminal gangs in the city. "We tell them to take precautions with their own business, but stay out of the way otherwise. Nemesis has taken action only against us so far, so he is our problem for now." Sato looked at each of them. "This single man has come close to undoing everything we have built in the last two hundred years," he said slowly, letting his words hang in the air. "If we are to survive, we must kill him. We must do so as an example to others that might think we are weak and open to being challenged. I will not tolerate failure this time, because failure would mean our destruction. You have your orders, go."
Holton Junkyard Co. District 5 February 10, 2036 12:39pm Gaven sat at the table and sipped his coffee. On the table, there were several computer- generated readouts. "An interesting selection of targets." The girl sitting across from him smiled. "You think so?" she asked eagerly. "It was tough to get it, but I think that's almost everything Sato has an interest in." "I think we can eliminate the purely legitimate businesses Sato has right now. Too great a chance of innocent bystanders getting caught in the cross fire." "Already did that, big Brother." The girl passed over a smaller stack of paper. The vigilante known as Nemesis examined the new list with interest. "Illegal weapons, drug labs, Boomer chop shops, brothels, gambling houses . . . . " He looked at his younger sister. "Where did you get this?" he asked. "Sato's own system," she replied with a shrug and a smile. She shared the same green eyes as her brother, and they gleamed with delight. "The security system they've got is at least three years out of date, and Sato is spending more money on hardware, and almost nothing on software." "You were careful?" She looked hurt. "Of course. I went through three cutout computer systems, including the ADP's, before I went into Sato's system." He looked at her in disbelief. "You went through the ADP computer system?" She shrugged. "I wanted to see how good their security was." "And?" "And someone's beginning to wise up over there. I saw beginnings of a VERY tight secur- ity system being put into place. Another two months, and it would be a challenge to break into it." "In that case, stay away from their system. Use one of the others for your cutout." "All right." Sensing his mood, she changed the subject. "Are you going out tonight?" He nodded. "Sarge and I are going out in a while. We'll recon a dozen targets, and choose three or four for tonight's blitz." "Be careful." "I always am." He stood and stretched. "Why don't you see if the Doc needs a hand with the hardsuit?" "Sure." She stood and walked away. Nemesis watched his sister walk away. I should have never involved you in this mad- ness, Maria, he thought sadly. You should have a home, friends, and a normal life. I don't want you caught in the firestorm I'm igniting.
Chapter 4
DelNotre's Restaurant February 10, 2036 12:49pm Nene and Alan were seated comfortably in a corner booth near the back of the restaurant. The decor reminded Nene of an Italian villa, with white stucco walls, arched doorways, and marble tiled floors. The table that sat between them was real wood, covered with a white table- cloth, with fine dishes and cutlery were set perfectly in place. There were only four or five tables occupied, and their conversations added a low hum to the sounds of music playing in the background. It all made Nene feel like she was a little girl eating out for the first time. Alan's actions when he and Nene entered the restaurant were unusual as the decor. When the man standing next to the door saw them, he shouted something in Italian, and hugged Alan like a long lost relative. They had a short conversation in Italian, with both of them glancing at Nene for a second, leaving Nene completely in the dark for the entire conversation. Then, the man showed them the corner booth. When the pair seated themselves, he presented them each with a menu, then left them alone. When the man strode away, Nene whispered "What was that about?" "What?" asked Alan, without looking up from his menu. "The greeting at the door, and the conversation." "Oh. That was the owner. He's a second cousin of mine. He speaks English and Italian fluently, but Japanese is beyond his skills." He shrugged. "I eat here regularly, and he makes a big production out of it." "What about the conversation dealt with me?" Alan looked at her blankly. "How did you know we talked about you? I thought you didn't understand Italian?" "I don't, but I know that look when I see it." "He asked if you were my girlfriend, and I told him you were a coworker, nothing more." "Where does he get the idea I'm your girlfriend?" Alan chuckled. "I come from a big family, Nene. I have six brothers and four sisters. Right now, I'm the only one of the eleven not married, and the entire family is trying to remedy that situation as soon as possible. So, anytime they see me with a girl, their hopes go up." "Sounds like a pain." "It's not that big a deal. I know they want me to be happy, and we are a close-knit family. What about you?" She looked down at her menu. "I'm an only child." "Sorry to hear that. I can't imagine growing up alone." "We'd better order," said Nene, looking to change the subject. "Or we'll be late back to work." A waiter took their orders, and disappeared into the kitchen. After a short time, a steaming plate of pasta was sitting before each of them, along with a salad and freshly baked bread. They ate slowly, savoring the meal, and kept the discussion centered on computers and related subjects. Nene was surprised at the richness of the lunch, and she said, "Isn't this going to cost you a lot for this meal?" Alan shook his head. "I'm paying for your lunch. Mine's free." "Huh?" Alan shrugged. "I'm family. My cousin would be insulted if I tried to pay for my meal." He smiled at her. "So, I make it a point to recommend this place to everyone I can. In fact I -" He stopped in mid-sentence and stared at the three men entering the restaurant. "Are you armed?" he asked quietly, his smile gone. She nodded, suddenly worried. "With what?" he asked. "A SIG Sayer ten millimeter my boyfriend gave me for Christmas." He gave her a small smile. "I like your boyfriend's tastes in guns. However, I'm not sure of his wisdom." "What's that supposed to mean?" "Giving you a pistol. You can't hit the broadside of a barn from inside the barn." "That's not true!" she hissed angrily. "And how did you know -" "We can have a debate later about your marksmanship. We got bigger problems." "What's wrong?" "Time for the weekly payoff to the local Yakuza." "This close to ADP headquarters?" "Why not? The Yakuza is everywhere." "Are we going to stop it?" Alan shook his head. "We'd have a hard case to prove from the start. My cousin wouldn't talk, and the bagman wouldn't talk. But I still don't like this. I think the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza is nervous." "How can you tell?" "They usually send one fellow, a really nice guy, considering he's Yakuza, by the name of Yawata. My cousin hands him a bag with the week's payoff, and Yawata's out the door. No muss, no fuss." "I take it that's not Yawata," said Nene, motioning to the smallest of the three men with her head. "Not by a long shot." He watched the trio approach his cousin. "That's the Oyabun's son, and heir apparent. The other two are bodyguards. All three are bad news." Nene watched the three out of the corner of her eye. They glared at the other customers, and they took the hint, paid quietly, and left. Another glare cleared the room of the staff with the exception of Alan's cousin. Soon, only the three Yakuza, Nene, Alan, and the cousin were left in the dining room. Sato started talking quietly to Alan's cousin, and the cousin was responding with much gesturing. Suddenly, Sato reached out and grabbed the cousin by the lapels, pulled him forward, and tossed him onto the floor. "Cover me," said Alan, sliding out of the booth, followed by Nene. While Alan directly headed for the trio, Nene drifted a couple of meters off to the right, and stopped. She pulled out her pistol, aware of its weight and hardness. Gripping it with both hands, she released the safety, and kept it pointing down at the floor. "Sato!" shouted Alan, pulling out his own pistol. Like Nene, he kept it pointed at the floor. The two bodyguards moved to impose themselves between Alan and their boss, but Sato said, "I will speak with him." Sato turned and glared at Alan, who had stopped a meter away. He was short and slim, with slicked back hair, and a pock marked face. "Stay out of this, Officer," he said with a nasal twang. "This concerns a business matter between the owner and my father." "And that is my cousin you have on the floor, Sato. That makes it family business -- my business. I suggest that you let Vito get up and maybe we can discuss this." "And why should I do that?" "Because I might get excited, and you wouldn't like that." Sato snorted. "A brave statement, considering the source. You're no ADP line officer." "So I'm a desk officer." Alan slowly brought up his pistol until it pointed at Sato's forehead. "I asked you nicely once, Sato," he said calmly. "I'm not the best shot in the world, but I can't miss at this distance. And since this is a fifty-cal Desert Eagle, the bullet won't leave a lot intact when it goes through your head." "And my guards would kill you." "Not before my partner takes then out with her brand-new pistol." He motioned with a slight gesture of his head in Nene's direction. "She's on the ADP shooting team, and the best shot in her class three years running." Sato looked undecided. Alan continued. "Your father has had a lousy day already with what happened at pier 234. I doubt losing his son will improve his day." "What are you prattling on about? I don't know anything about what happened at some pier." "Be sure to tell Hoshi that when you visit him in the hospital." Sato's eyes narrowed. "For a desk officer, you seem to stay current on certain subjects." "Bad habit," replied Alan with a shrug. "Like I told my partner earlier, I'm an informa- tional packrat." Suddenly, Vito started speaking to Alan in Italian. Alan replied in Italian, his eyes never leaving Sato's. For several minutes, the two cousins conversed in rapid fire fashion. Nene gripped her pistol tightly in her hands. What is Alan trying to do, get him and me killed? She didn't know if she could actually fire at anyone. Rampaging Boomers are one thing, there nothing wrong in destroying them before they can kill you. But can I shoot a human being in cold blood? She was broken out of her worrying by Alan's incredulous cry. "You can't be serious! A fifty percent rise in the protection fee? Is your father crazy?" Sato looked worried now, as Alan's pistol had moved closer to his face. His bodyguards continued to glance from Alan to Nene, wondering who was the more dangerous one. "It is a temporary measure," Sato said with raised hands. "As there has been a sudden drain on the local community's resources." "How much did your father lose in the attack last night?" asked Alan calmly. "Half a billion Yen? Three quarters of a billion?" "A significant amount of resources were lost a short while ago, but we are taking measures to recoup our losses." "Is your father preparing for a war?" Sato took a deep breath. "I believe he is tightening security at several locations in response to some perceived threats." "Perceived threats? You're in the wrong line of business, my boy. You should be a pol- itician. Your father lost over thirty men last night, and you call it a `perceived threat'." Alan sighed. "Tell you what, Sato. I'll tell my cousin to give you the usual amount he pays you, plus another twenty five percent to assist in recouping your losses. This time only, though. Next week, he pays the same amount he's been paying. Understood?" Alan spoke to Vito in Italian again, and the man scrambled to his feet, and went over to the cash register. He opened it and counted out a fair number of bills. He withdrew a small bag from under the counter, dropped the pile of bills into the bag, and walked over to stand next to Alan. "My Father's orders were clear on this point. I cannot leave without the full amount." "You could leave on your back with a lot less brain matter, Sato," said Alan coldly. "I think your father would prefer three quarters of a pie and an intact son, then to get nothing and lose his son in the bargain." "Your point has some merit," replied Sato, looking wilted. "I was hoping you would see it my way." Alan spoke to his cousin, and Vito handed over the money to one of the bodyguards. The man glanced inside, and nodded to Sato. "I think it's best you leave now, Sato," said Alan. "Someone is out to take your father's outfit down, and I rather that my cousin's place was not at ground zero should they come after you." Sato glared at Alan, then turned and walked out of the restaurant, trailed by his body- guards. Nene felt relief wash over her, followed by a flash of anger. She put her pistol away and stalked over to Alan. Alan murmured something to his cousin. Vito, after glancing at Nene, quietly slipped away. Alan slowly holstered his own pistol, and stood there with his hands behind his back. "All right, Mister," said Nene angrily. "Do you want to explain why you pointed a pistol at a civilian, and threatened to shoot him? Not to mention participation in a felony by giving said civilian protection money? What happens if he decides to complain to the ADP internal affairs? You're a computer officer, not Leon!" Now on a roll, she continued to forcefully tell him everything he'd done wrong. Alan listened in silence as she read him the riot act. "Is the sergeant finished?" he asked formally. Nene glared at him. "I'm waiting for answers." He nodded. "First, Sato won't complain to ADP - he would lose face with his father if he did. He will handle the insult to his honor himself." "And when he kills you, will his honor be satisfied?" asked Nene, feeling part of the anger fade. "It will be. Though it will be some time until he can act on it. With Nemesis in town, everything else is going to be put on the back burner." "We should have arrested them!" Alan looked at her sadly. "If it was just me, I might have gone ahead and done it. But not with you and Vito here." Nene looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" "There's no way Sato junior could have been convicted - his father has too much power and influence in this city. Sure, we could have arrested him and the two thugs, assuming they allowed us to, but what then? Sato senior has lawyers that'll do everything to delay and derail any trial. While they legal beagles are throwing up roadblocks, Sato has some of his 'persua- ders' out convincing Vito, you and me to have a sudden case of forgetfulness. If we don't knuckle under, they would be a good chance all three of us would disappear - forever." "And the rest?" "As to pointing my handgun at Sato junior and friends, I knew Junior would back off, if I showed I was willing to kill him. Had it been his father or one of his senior lieutenants, I could not have risked using the same tactic -- none of those men are easily intimidated. Giving Junior the money was a way for him to save face with his father. It also shows the elder Satothat I understand his current problems, but I wouldn't allow it to act as an excuse to squeeze more money out of my cousin's business. It also prevented Sato from sending a couple of leg-breakers to squeeze Vito for more money." "And what about telling Sato I was on the ADP shooting team, and being the best shot in my class three years running? I'm not that great a shot." "I lied about you being on the ADP shooting team because I wanted the bodyguards to think you were a threat, and thus treat you with respect. As to 'the best shot in her class three years running' statement, exactly how many redheaded computer security officers does the ADP have? Since they have only one, namely you, you're in a class by yourself." "I see." Nene thought for a minute. What am I supposed to do? she thought. Granted, he broke rules, but no one was hurt. But I can't let him get away with it. He is my subordinate, and I'm responsible for his actions. The two of them had worked together for the last two months without any problems. During that time, Alan hadn't done anything to challenge her authority. But she couldn't ignore this stunt. I won't let him think I'm a pushover! "What is the worse job that the computer security office has to perform?" "A physical check of the entire computer system wiring structure. Checking it for wear, or signs of intruders. It's long, tedious, but necessary." "And how long would it take?" "Around three months, working full time." "In that case, for the next six months, you will spend half the work day performing such a check, starting at the bottom, and working up. I want the entire wiring system carefully checked. Do I make myself clear?" "Yes, sergeant," Alan replied meekly. "Do you want me to start today?" "Tomorrow morning is soon enough." "Yes, sergeant. Anything else?" She punched him hard on the right arm. He flinched, but didn't otherwise react. She glared up at him. "What are you trying to do to me, give me a heart attack? You could have gotten us killed, you idiot!" He looked at her, and she could see he looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry boss," he said. "I guess I got carried away there, didn't I?" Nene sighed, all the anger gone from her. "We're technical staff, not field officers. Leon and Daley are the ones who are suppose to go around with guns blazing." She looked at her watch. "We'd better get back to work." Vito reappeared and handed Alan a couple of small bags and embraced him again before he and Nene left. As they walked back toward the ADP headquarters, Nene asked, "What's in the bags?" He handed her one. "Cookies. One bag's for you, one for me." Nene looked at him in suspicion. "You're not trying to bribe me, are you?" He chuckled. "No, Boss. The thought never crossed my mind."
Ri-san Bar District 3 February 10, 2036 1:52pm The Ri-san Bar was a hole in the wall located in a rough section of the district. Well known among the local police officers as a place to avoid, it was a haven for those in the criminal world. Which is why Leon, Daley, and Anderson were now entering the bar. Leon looked around slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the bar. Daley stood beside him, and Anderson stood behind them, a look of distaste on her face. "Nice place, McNichol," she said quietly. "You come here often?" "Only to talk to Skeeter," replied Leon in the same quiet voice. "Stay close, and don't let them know you're a cop." "Why? They don't look like they care one way, or another." "Let me tell you a story about this area of town that you might now be aware of, Detec- tive," said Daley, his tone light but low. "A quartet of Boomers went on a rampage through this section about two months ago. Boomers sent to take Skeeter out for good. When we responded, we found the smoking remains of three Boomers in the street outside this bar. From the number of spent shells we found in the street, we figure someone used more ammo in ten minutes then the ADP uses in a month." Anderson shrugged. "So they don't like Boomers." "They like cops even less." "Quiet, children," said Leon. "Skeeter's here. Table near the back door." "See him," replied Daley. "He's all right, but watch out for the other patrons. They're not so friendly." Daley noted several individuals at the bar staring at them in open hostility. Several of the patrons were sitting along the long wooden bar off to their right, while others were scattered among several booths along the left wall. Several more occupied a couple of the tables in the center of the room. The three of them moved quickly through the tables, and approached the two men sitting at the table Leon had indicated. One was a giant, muscles rippling under a tight shirt. His hair was nonexistent, and his skin was the color of old hickory. His face had the flattened appearance of someone who fought with their hands. The other man was short, slim, with a neat appearance and manner. He looked up at the trio approaching the table, but said nothing. Leon took the only other chair at the table, leaving Daley and Anderson standing. "Leon," said the neat man quietly. "Nice to see you again." "Likewise," replied Leon casually. "How's business?" The man shrugged. "Steady. You know how things are today." "I do." They continued to talk for several minutes on mundane matters, much to Anderson's irritation. Out of the corner of his eye, Daley saw the detective start to fidget as the conversation continued. Any moment now . . . Finally, Anderson leaned forward and snapped at the neatly dressed man. "Look, Skeeter. Unlike these two, I don't have time to waste with talks about the weather. We need some information, and we need it now." "Excuse me," said Leon calmly. "You're making a mistake -" "No, Inspector," she snarled in a low voice, making Leon's rank sound obscene. "I'm not about to stand here, while you play happy time with a gun runner!" "But Dect -" "Listen, McNichols." Her anger was channeling itself into her words. "This isn't your usual Boomer hunt, where you can wreck huge sections of the city just to satisfy some deep seeded need to demolish things. This is real police work here, so why not let the real detective work, hm?" Leon looked at the smaller man. "What do you think, Ham?" Ham shrugged. "Not bad. A bit of a firecracker though." Anderson turned to stare at him. "Listen, Skeeter," She snapped. "I don't have all this time to -" "Detective, you are laboring under a misapprehension. I'm not Skeeter." "- Sit around and . . . " Her voice trailed off as the man's words made an impression. She looked at Leon. "Is he telling the truth?" Leon kept his face calm. "Detective Anderson, may I introduce Ham Mayfair, MegaToyko's top criminal defense lawyer. Ham, this is Detective Anderson of the N-police." Ham tipped his hat. "Charmed, I'm sure." Anderson face went blank. "So where's Skeeter?" "That is I," replied the giant. Anderson turned to look at the giant. "You're Skeeter?" Skeeter sighed, and looked at Leon. "Quick off the mark, isn't she?" Anderson straightened, her face a mask of anger. "You did that deliberately, didn't you?" she hissed at Leon. "I thought you were a detective," replied Leon easily. "Ham is Skeeter' lawyer, here to make sure we don't try to entrap him." "They also serve a better then average steak," remarked the lawyer. Skeeter sighed again. "I see the N-police are still behind the times." Leon shrugged. "I tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen." "I know. What can I do for you, Inspector?" "You heard about what happened on Pier 234 last night?" The giant nodded. "Sato is not happy, to put it mildly. He has been moving men and firepower around, and most of his important operations are well on their way to becoming fortresses. Word on the street has it that MegaTokyo is graced with the presence of Nemesis." "That's what we think." Leon pulled out a small clear plastic bag from his pocket and passed it over to Mayfair. The lawyer looked at it, then passed it over to Skeeter. The giant picked up the bag and stared at the three shell casings in it. After several seconds, Skeeter said, "Fifteen millimeter, Teflon tipped, hydroshock specials. From a minigun, probably a GMMA Whirlwind-III." He handed the bag back to Leon. "Not very common ammo." "I know." Leon pocketed the bag. "Who in MegaTokyo would have a supply of this ammo?" Skeeter leaned back in his chair, the seat creaking under the strain. "It would have to be Chogomiga, Narsh, or Gamble. They're the only three who are big enough to bother handling this type of ammo. Of course, this assumes that Nemesis is buying locally. He could have his own supply, or he could be stealing it." "Have to start somewhere, Skeeter. You know Sato not going to be open with us." "A piece of advice, Inspector. Sato is preparing for war, and he is not going to be considerate of those bystanders who get in the way. And the other major gang leaders are also gearing up for a possible battle. So, either find Nemesis really quick, or expect a full scale war that makes the Boomer uprising of two years ago look like a tea party." Leon nodded, and stood up. "Are you ready, just in case things go to hell?" Skeeter nodded. "My people are taking care of business. Just try and take care of your end of things." "Oh, we will. Stay loose, Skeeter." "That's what I'm good at. Take care, Leon." Leon turned and strode away, trailed by Anderson and Daley. The other bar patrons, with unfriendly gazes, watched the trio leave. No one said anything until they walked out of the bar. They strode over to the marked police car and opened the doors. "What next?" asked Daley, sliding into the front passenger seat. His breath was a cloud in the cold air. "We've got a starting point," replied Leon. "We have three names - Heio Chogomiga, Gram Narsh, and Kelly Gamble." "We've wasted time here," grumbled Anderson, who had to ride in the back. "We should be pressing Sato, not chitchatting with a mentally challenged hulk." Daley chuckled, and Anderson turned to glare at him. "What's so funny, Inspector?" she asked harshly. "Should I tell her?" Daley asked Leon, as Leon slid in behind the wheel. Leon shrugged. "You should," he replied. He started the engine, and guided the car out onto the street. "She's not going to be happy until you do." "All right." He turned in his seat to face Anderson. "Skeeter's many things, but a mentally challenged hulk isn't one of them. He's the most powerful non-Yakuza gang leader in MegaTokyo, and runs this district as his own private kingdom." "So," replied Anderson. "He knows how to crack heads. So what?" "Remember when I told you about the quartet of rampaging Boomers?" "You found three shot to pieces outside the bar. Again, so?" "So," said Leon, "Skeeter tore the fourth Boomer's head off with his bare hands. There aren't too many people alive that can claim they've done that." "So, he's really good at cracking heads. I'm not impressed." Daley smiled at her. "He's got three different Masters' degrees, including an MBA from Yale. He speaks at least seven different languages fluently, and has written several well- respected books on medieval Japan. He knows more about what's going on in MegaToyko then any- one else, with the exception of Quincy." "You're not serious." Daley held up a hand. "Scouts' honor. You can check his file when we get back to the station." "So why does someone with so much intelligence hang around down here?" "He grew up around here," replied Leon. "In fact, he was a fairly powerful gang leader until he decided that education would be more of a benefit then a hindrance. When he came back about ten years ago, this place was a warzone. There were a dozen gangs fighting for turf, and more crime in this district then the rest of the city combined." "So how did he stop it?" Leon turned his head and smiled at her. "Skeeter reclaimed his spot as a gang leader and consolidated power. He keeps the gangs in line, the Yakuza out, and peace in the district." He returned his attention to the road. "In return, he's working hard to actually improve conditions down here. The new wing the Orphans' Home got several years back? Skeeter put the money up for that. There are three medical clinics down here that stay open only because Skeeter pays the bills. He has put at least two hundred kids through college, and most of them return here to help others. No one runs drugs into this area, not if they've grown fond of living. Skeeter may be a gang leader, but he's a better human being then most of the jackasses in government service." "Which is why the local police give him a lot of slack," finished Daley. "I thought the police were supposed to put men like Skeeter away." "If something happened to Skeeter," said Leon, glancing in the rear view mirror. "This district would go up in flames quicker then you could say `Boomer rampages'. No one wants that, especially the local police. So, they overlook a lot of the small stuff, and Skeeter lets them know if someone's poaching on his turf." Anderson leaned back and frowned. "I beginning to wonder who's running this city." "You just beginning to wonder at that?" said Daley. "Leon and I have been mulling over that for years now." "Any answers?" "Nope."
Chapter 5
District 8 February 10, 2036 2:21pm Few people noticed the van pull to a stop across the street from the Fu Shui Nightclub. The outside walls of the nightclub were painted in a series of garish blues, yellows, and reds that made the six-story building looked like it had a disease of some sort. A trio of large men in dark suits stood outside the front doors, watching everything around them. The van that had stopped across the street was dark green in color, with tinted windows, and no side door. On the side of the van, GREEN DRAGON MESSENGER SERVICE was painted in neat white letters. A short, broad-shouldered man with a graying crewcut emerged from the van. Dressed in a set of overalls the same color as the van, the man walked to the rear of the truck and opened the doors. He pulled out several packages, placed them in a handcart, and carried them into the office building the van was parked in front of. Ten minutes later, he emerged with another group of packages. He stored them in the back of the van, got in, and drove off. Sarge didn't say anything until he had turned the corner and was out of sight of the nightclub. "How did it go, Sir?" The curtains that separated the rear of the van from the driver's compartment opened slightly. The strong, even voice of Nemesis replied. "The scanning equipment picked up traces of several of the more popular illegal drugs. Looks like the fourth and fifth floors are definitely drug labs. Our information is right on the money." "And the security setup?" "Our information is right on that score also. The scanners found twenty three armed targets in the buildings, and twelve non targets. Sato is gearing up his defenses." "We expected that. Do we include it in the planned strikes?" Nemesis was silent for a minute. Then, he nodded. "If I come down from the roof, and go out the same way. Also, a few well-placed stink and smoke bombs to clear the nightclub, set to go off just before I hit the roof should clear the place quickly enough." Sarge nodded. "I think you should go with a mix of flachette, smoke and flash-bang canisters for the grenade launcher. Lessen the chances of any bystanders getting hit with shrapnel." "Agreed. I also want the first grenade in each magazine to be HE, in case I need to make an entrance on my own. Also, I think we should go with the flachette rounds for the rail gun, and the extended magazine. Mount the small flamethrower too." "Got it. What about melee weapons?" "Vibrosword in the left arm, alongside the grenade launcher. I shouldn't need anything else." Sarge made a right turn onto a one way street. "Where to now, Sir?" "The old Byjang toy factory over on Hakamma. It's one of Sato's main weapons storehouses." Sarge smiled. "I wish I could see Sato's face when he finds out he's lost several more of his businesses." Nemesis didn't return the smile. "I want him angry. Angry men don't think straight." "Angry men also get careless about who's between them and their target." "I know."
Silky Doll February 10, 2036 4:42pm Sylia was surprised to see Nene walk into the store. Things had been quiet for over a month, as if there was an unwritten agreement not to spoil the New Year. There were no Boomer rampages, or much in the way of jobs for the Knight Sabers. Fargo had one or two leads, but nothing definite yet. There were several other customers in the store, so Nene had to work her way though the displays of lingerie at a sedate pace. After ten minutes in the store, the last of the customers walked out of the store, leaving the two of them alone. "What is it, Nene?" Sylia asked when the redhead approached the sales counter. Nene pulled out the computer disk with the data on Nemesis. "There's a war brewing in MegaToyko, and it could get really nasty." Sylia nodded, and called a sales assistant out of the back to mind the shop. Ten minutes later, they were both in Sylia's apartment. Sylia sat on the couch and listened to Nene fill her in on the attack on the docks, the speculation on Nemesis, and what happened at the Italian restaurant. "The word is that the N-Police has already called in all their personnel and canceled all vacations and personal leave. They've also beefed up surveillance on several of the high profile businesses they know Sato owns," said Nene. "The chief is reluctant to do the same with the ADP, but he's getting pressure from the top. If Nemesis hits another of Sato's businesses, the chief will be forced to put the ADP onto full alert." Sylia picked up the data disk. "And this is all the data on Nemesis?" Nene nodded. "Alan already had most of it. All I had to do was an update." "Why did Alan have a copy of this data?" "You don't trust him?" "These days, I trust very few people. Alan isn't one of them." "I checked the disk before I left work. There's nothing in there but data. Alan claims that he's an `Informational packrat'. He has several disks on the Knight Sabers." "Very well, I'll look over the data. If you get the chance, you might want to look over the disks Alan has on the Knight Sabers." Nene nodded. "What about Nemesis?" "I'll have Fargo see if he can dig up something on our man." "Sylia, what happens if this does turn into a shooting war? What will the Knight Sabers do?" Sylia stared out the window. "I don't know. We may just stay neutral." "I don't know if we should," said Nene slowly. "Innocent people could get killed." Sylia nodded. "I know."
Priss's trailer February 10, 2036 6:29pm Leon slowed his car to a halt several dozen meters from Priss's trailer. He got out of the car slowly, and walked toward the trailer. The air was getting colder, and the glance Leon gave the sky told him there was rain on the way. Perfect, he thought sourly. The perfect way to wrap up a lousy day. After the meeting with Skeeter, the three of them had ridden back to ADP headquarters. A check on the three names Skeeter gave them wasn't very helpful. Heio Chogomiga was in the hospital, recovering from a `disagreement' with a client. Gram Narsh had gone on vacation to the Caribbean, and wouldn't be back for another week. Kelly Gamble was in town, but had gone to ground in response to Nemesis's appearance. In short, none of the major Arms suppliers Skeeter named was accessible. Anderson has stormed off in anger, leaving Daley and Leon to write up the reports. The door to the trailer opened when he was about five meters from the trailer. Priss leaned against the door frame, and looked at him with an expression of disgust. "Why, Inspector McNichol," she said, with a mocking tone of voice. "What brings you down to this part of town? ADP misplaced another Boomer?" "I was hoping you'd have dinner with me." Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "What happened, Daley turned you down again?" He sighed. "I've had a long and rotten day. I just needed to turn down by you to make it complete." She gave him a thin smile. "We can't have that, can we? All right, you're on. But I pick the place, and you pay. Clear?" "As long as it's not the most expensive place in town. Unlike some people, I don't have money to burn." Priss nodded. "Agreed. Give me ten minutes, and then we'll go." She reached for the door to close it, but Leon said, "At least tell me where we're going first!" "Oh?" She smiled at him. "First, a dinner at Sirocco's, then a place over in district eight called the Fu-Shui Nightclub. See you in ten minutes." Leon stood there for several seconds after Priss closed the trailer's door, wondering if maybe chasing down combat Boomers wasn't safer and cheaper.
| Chapters 6 - 10 | Bubblegum Crucible page |
|---|