VIGILANTE'S RUN

			Chapters 6 - 10

A Bubble Gum Crucible Fanfic - Second in the Series

By Craig A. Reed Jr. (trboturtle@aol.com)




	

	
Index:
	
 Chapter 6 
	
 Chapter 7 
	
 Chapter 8 
	
 Chapter 9 
	
 Chapter 10 
	
	



	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 6


  
Holton Junkyard Co.
District 5
February 10, 2036
7:12pm
  
	"Weapons check."
   
	The electronic voice of Nemesis echoed slightly in the chamber. Marie, Smitty, and Sarge 
watched Professor Vicain make a final adjustment to a pod on the right arm of the hardsuit. 
Vicain stepped back and nodded to the armored vigilante. Smitty stepped over to a nearby console 
and tapped a few keys. The professor and Marie moved away from Nemesis and went to stand behind 
Smitty.
   
	"Ready here, Sir," the armorer said.
   
	"Begin weapon system check," replied Nemesis.
   
	"Right arm Railgun."
   
	The black Hardsuit's right arm came up, and pointed at an empty section of the underground 
chamber wall. The metal fingers on the right hand opened to reveal a muzzle. "Railgun at 100% 
power."
   
	Smitty nodded. "Status confirmed. Left arm grenade launcher."
   
	It took five minutes to run through the entire weapons' check. Once Smitty confirmed the 
last weapon reading, Nemesis switched the hardsuit's system to standby, and removed his helmet. 
"The extra ammo and weapons ready to go?"
   
	Sarge nodded. "When do you want to start?"
   
	Nemesis looked at a clock hanging on a nearby wall. "I want us to be on the road by nine 
PM."
   
	"What order are you going to hit tonight's targets in?"
   
	The vigilante unsealed his suit and climbed out. He strode over to a nearby table, 
followed by the others. A large scale map lay on the table. They clustered around the table.
   
	"I want to start with the basement casino in the garment factory on Kiho," he said, 
pointing to the location on the map. He continued, pointing as he listed the targets. "Then the 
brothel on Ja-sia, the old Byjang toy factory over on Hakamma, and the last one, the drug lab 
over the Fu-Shui Nightclub. I think I can be in and out each location within ten minutes."
   
	"That's cutting it close, my boy," replied Vicain. He was tall and almost impossible thin. 
He had a sharp nose and chin, watery blue eyes, and a high forehead. He looked more like a 
headmaster at a private school then he did a scientist.
   
	"I know, Professor," replied Nemesis carefully. "Any longer, and Sato would have 
reinforcements on top of me."
   
	"Why not use the heavy hardsuit for this assault, instead of the new hardsuit? You would 
have more firepower and armor."

	Gaven shook his head. "But not the mobility. The heavy hardsuit is great in an open 
battlefield, but not in an enclosed area. And all the targets tonight are inside."
   
	Marie looked worried. "Gaven," she asked her brother. "Do you think Sato would use 
Boomers?" 
   
	"Not straight away."
   
	"But you're worried that he will," said Sarge. 
   
	Gaven sighed. "If he loses too much face, he will. If that happens, there could be a lot 
of people in the crossfire." 
   
	"What about the ADP?" asked Smitty.
   
	"My sources say the ADP has to rely on a group of mercenaries to bail them out of any 
tough Boomer situation."
   
	"The Knight Sabers?" asked Vicain.
   
	Nemesis looked at him, and nodded. "I've heard they're good."
   
	"They've got good hardsuits," replied the Professor. "Whoever designed them is a genius."
   
	"So are you, Professor," replied Marie confidently. "You designed the Nemesis hardsuit."
  
	"Only because someone else had done all the groundwork years before."
  
	"We can discuss this later," said Gaven. "I'm going to go take a nap. Sarge, wake me in 
an hour."
   
	"Yes Sir."
   
	
Abandoned Warehouse
District 4
February 10, 2036
7:21pm
  
	Nene carefully balanced the several containers of food in her left arm so she could bang 
on the thick metal door with her right. She struck the door twice, waited two seconds, then 
banged on it again. She looked up at the small security camera, and stuck her tongue out.
  
	The door opened slowly. "Enter, and abandon all ye hope," rumbled a deep menacing voice 
that then dissolved into a menace filled laughter.
  
	Nene ignored the voice and slipped inside. "Very funny guys," she said sarcastically.
  
	The room was five meters by five, with bare concrete walls and floor. Several tables were 
set up along the walls, most of them filled with computers and assorted hardware. The light in 
the room was supplied by a single bulb hanging down from the ceiling.
  
	There were two people in the room, but only one looked up at her. "It was Vicky's idea," 
Rob Madson said, pointing to the other person. "She also wants to wire the rest of the building 
and spread stories that the place is haunted."
   
	"No way in Hell," growled Nene. "We do that, and we'll have every ghost hunter in the 
city tripping over themselves to prove or debunk the stories. The last thing we need is a ghost 
hunter opening the door and finding us here."
   
	Rob nodded. "That's what I told her."
   
	The other person in the room spoke for the first time. "Could you keep it down, guys? 
This isn't any easier with you two yackking in the background."
   
	Nene put down the food on a nearby table and went over to where Vicky Maoru sat, a VR 
headset covering most of her face. Her right hand was sheathed in a sophisticated-looking VR 
glove that she was making small precise gestures with. 
   
	"What are you working on?"
   
	"I'm trying to access GENOM's records on a factory in district 4," replied Vicky in a 
distracted tone. "We picked up clues from several other sites that several of the factory 
production lines are putting out the new BU 55x Boomers."
   
	"Any luck so far?"
  
	Vicky shook her head. "The files are triple encoded. I can break the codes, given time."
  
	"You don't have the time," said Rob from his station a couple of meters away. "There are 
at least two hunter programs tracking you right now."
  
	Nene tensed at the mention of hunter programs. There were complex programs designed to 
track and attack any intruders into a corporation's computer system. And GENOM's were among the 
best.
  
	"I'm launching ghost programs right now."
  
	After several seconds, Rob shook his head. "You managed to distract one," he said, his 
voice steady despite the tension. "But the other one is still tracking you, and he's got friends 
now, including another Netrunner." 
   
	"I've almost got the code broken."
   
	"I'm releasing a couple of diversion worms now. That might pull the hunter programs off, 
but I can't do anything about the Netrunner."
   
	"Leave the Netrunner to me," said Vicky. "I've got a surprise or two up my sleeve."
   
	Nene moved to look over Rob's shoulder. She watched as the worms pulled several of the 
hunter programs away from Vicky's presence, the program's AI deciding that the worms were more 
of a danger to the system. The Netrunner, however, continued to bear down on Vicky.
   
	"Got it!" Vicky cried. "I've broken the code! Downloading copies now!"
   
	"The other Netrunner has released at least two dozen lamprey viruses," called out Rob. 
"If they latch onto you -"
   
	"I see them." Nene could hear the smile in Vicky's voice. "See you around, clown." With 
an air of contempt, she slowly closed her right hand into a fist, the snapped it open. Rob's 
screen suddenly flared as if an explosion had taken place in the system. Lights danced across 
Nene's eyes for several seconds before she could blink them away.
   
	For several more seconds, there was silence in the room. Then, with a sigh, Vicky slumped 
back in her chair, and slowly pushed the VR helmet up onto her head. "Corporate blockheads," 
she said slowly, grinding out each syllable with as much disrespect as she could muster. They're 
making them dumber every year."
   
	"What the hell was that last stunt?" demanded Nene, rubbing her eyes.
   
	"A flare program. It's a little something me and a couple of the others have been working 
on for the last two months or so." She looked up and smiled at Nene, making her looking younger 
then she actually was.
   
	Nene sighed. Why did we have to use outside hackers for this? she thought. The same 
answer came back just as fast. Because we needed more crackers then we could get out the 
ADP's ranks.
  
	She looked down at Vicky, one of the small group she and Alan had recruited for this 
scheme. She was short, waif-like, with big brown eyes, short brown hair, and an air of inno-
cence about her. She'd lost most of her family in a Boomer rampage several years before, and 
the fires of vengeance had been burning hot since then. She had been supporting herself and 
her surviving brother by becoming a cracker-for-hire. She'd jumped at a chance to joined the 
team, and she was quickly turning into the team's best cracker.
  
	On the other hand, Rob Madson was almost the opposite of Vicky. He was one of two other 
ADP officers recruited into the team, and usually worked as the monitoring technician. He was 
stocky, wore glasses, and was older then anyone else on the team. He also had an easygoing 
manner that was a counterpoint to Vicky's tense, hard-edged personality. Together, the two of
them formed the best Cracker team in the unit.
  
	Nene waved to the food. "Better grab a bite to eat now, then I think we should call it a 
night."
  
	The other two nodded. Nene and Alan had insisted on several rules to keep things from 
spinning out of control. One was that any cracking attempt was a team effort, the cracker and 
a monitoring tech to keep watch. Another was that if there was a successful penetration of a 
data bank, the cracker team would pull the plug and not attempt another cracking for a minimum 
of twelve hours. 
   
	So far, the rules had been followed with almost no complaining. The amount of data the 
unit had managed to obtain, while not overwhelming, was beginning to have a marked impact on 
the street. Two Boomer rampages in the last two weeks had been stopped cold, with no loss of 
life. And that was making the chief happy, something he hadn't been in a long while.
   
	Of course, if he'd ever found out what we were doing, he'd go into shock. Nene 
walked over and started shutting down the systems while the others ate quietly. She pulled the 
data disk with the production figures for the Boomers out of the machine, and put it in her 
pocket. Not to mention what he'd do if he'd ever found out where the money was coming from
.
   
	The money was being funneled from nearly every department in the ADP, a hundred here, 
fifty there, and twenty from somewhere else. The budget wasn't big, but with some money from 
Sylia and one of Alan's cousins, they had sufficient funds for six months. After that, well... 
    
	"Who's on deck for the next cracker attempt?" asked Rob, as he finished the boxed meal 
and tossed the empty box into the trash can.
   
	"Fox and Muldar," replied Nene.
   
	Rob grimaced. "Fox is all right - she's ADP, but Muldar. . . ." He trailed off. "He's 
strange, even for a cracker. I'm not sure he's in the same time zone with the rest of us."
   
	Nene shrugged. "Alan says he's one of the best, even if he's a bit . . .eccentric."
   
	"Eccentric? Try Twilight Zone."
   
	Vicky sighed. "Sorry to interrupt your stimulating conversation. Can I have some money? I 
need to pick up some food before I go home."
   
	"How much?" asked Nene. She'd been expecting the question since she'd walked in.
   
	"Twenty thousand."
   
	Nene nodded and pulled out a large wad of bills. "This will have to last you until next 
week," she said in a serious tone, counting off a number of bills.
   
	Vicky nodded. In the short time she'd know Vicky, Nene knew the cracker didn't waste 
money. Others might spend money on games, new clothes, or a new toy, but not Vicky Maoru. 
What she didn't use for food and shelter for her and her brother, Vicky saved for the future 
with a single mindedness that was scary.
   
	With some help from Linna, Nene was trying to persuade Vicky to invest some of her money 
in bonds and stocks. Vicky was stubborn, but she was beginning to come around to their point 
of view. With Linna's careful investing, both Maorus would have a brighter future then most of 
the city's residents.
   
	As Nene handed Vicky the money, the cracker said, "I thought you might want to know that 
there's a new Cracker in the city."
   
	"Oh?" replied Nene with some interest. "Any idea who it is?"
   
	Vicky shook her head. "They run under the alias of `Fleet Hermes'. They've been asking a 
lot of questions about who's who, and what the security setup of several systems."
   
	"Like who's?"
   
	"ADP's for one. Several corps internal networks, and a couple of Yakuza's databases."
   
	"Someone asking about a Yakuza gang's database?" asked Rob incredulously. "That's a good 
way to commit suicide, slow and painfully."
   
	"Any idea whose database Fleet Hermes was asking about?" asked Nene, a gnawing sense of 
certainty entering her mind.
   
	Vicky thought for a second, the said. "The Red Willow Yakuza for one, and the Sleeping 
Dragon Yakuza, for another."
   
	Jackpot! Nene fought hard to keep her excitement from showing. "Could you do me a 
favor?"
   
	"I can try."
   
	"Put the word out on the net for me. Let me know the next time Fleet Hermes shows up in 
cyberspace."
   
	"So you can arrest them? I don't think so."
   
	Nene shook her head. "I promise. I won't try to arrest whoever Fleet Hermes is. I need to 
talk them, and as soon as possible."
   
	Vicky's eyes narrowed. "Why the sudden interest in the new kid?"
   
	"You know what happened on pier 234 early this morning?"
   
	The light of comprehension dawned on Vicky's face. "You think Fleet Hermes is working for 
Nemesis?"
   
	"Makes sense," said Rob slowly. "Nemesis had to get his information from somewhere."
   
	Nene nodded. "And right now, Sato's gearing up for a war. That's the last thing this 
city needs right now. I have to try and convince Nemesis to back off, or a lot of innocent 
people are going to get hurt in the crossfire."
   
	Vicky frowned, then said, "I trust you, Nene. I'll put the word out about Fleet Hermes."
 							 
	"Thank you."
   
	"Well, time to go, ladies," said Rob, reaching for his coat. "I'm beat, and I've got the 
early shift tomorrow."
   
	Nene led them out of the room, closed the door behind them, locked it, and set the secu-
rity system. She turned and led the others up a short flight of stairs. At the top, the trio 
threaded their way through piles of wreckage. A minute later, they reached the small sheltered 
area where their vehicles sat, safely out of the way of the bitter winter night.
 	   
	"Where did you get the car from?" asked Rob, pointing to the small blue car sitting next 
to his.
   
	"It's mine," 
   
	Both Rob and Vicky turned quickly in the direction the voice had come from. Rob relaxed 
when he saw who was standing there. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
   
	"Sorry, Rob," replied Alan from the shadows near the door. He stepped into the weak 
light. "Nene asked me to drive her over here tonight."
   
	Rob looked amused. "Oh?" he asked, the disbelief in his tone making Nene wilt in embar-
rassment. "What's the matter, your scooter got swiped?"
   
	Nene punched him in the arm. "No, my scooter didn't get swiped," she said angrily. "But, 
I'm sure not going to be out on a night like this on a scooter, trying to deliver you two 
Dinner."
   
	"All right, sorry I asked. Come on Vicky, I'll drop you off at home."
   
	The girl held up the roll of money Nene had given her. "Shopping first, then home."
   
	"Right."
   
	Nene watched them get into Rob's car and drive off before she got into Alan's car. Alan 
slid into the driver's seat and started the car. "Anything?" he asked.
   
	Nene held up the disk. "Some possible specs on the new BU-55x series."
   
	"Great! Any problems with the retrieval?"
   
	"Vicky had to lose a GENOM Netrunner with a flare program, but I think she got away 
clean."
   
	"We'd better not take any chances. I'll call Su and have the equipment moved tonight."
   
	Nene nodded. She didn't understand how, but Alan seemed to have contacts everywhere. Su 
handled the movement of the hacker team's computers from location to location. Nene had never 
met the man, but Alan assured her Su was reliable. This would be the fourth time in as many 
weeks the stuff would be moved, and Su had come through every time.
   
	Alan put the car into gear and they drove off, but Nene's thoughts were on the new 
cracker in town.
  

  
Sirocco's
February 10, 2036
7:25pm

	Leon silently watched Priss eat, his own food almost forgotten. The girl who was sitting 
across from didn't look like someone who sang retrothrash, and destroyed rouge Boomers on her 
off hours. She was dressed in a white blouse, gray vest, and dark pants, and looked more like 
a college student.
   
	She looked up him. "Yes?" she asked with a smirk.
   
	"Sorry?"
   
	"I'm still waiting for your first attempt to hit on me."
   
	He sighed, and put his fork down. Leaning back, he stretched slowly. "Not tonight, dear," 
he said with a yawn. "I have a headache."
   
	She arched an eyebrow in surprise. "That's my line."
   
	"Ah," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I bet your headache doesn't use a 
minigun and manages to piss off the largest Yakuza outfit in MegaToyko. And I doubt your 
headache is trying to start a major war among the city's major criminal organizations in the 
last twelve hours."
   
	Her expression turned to one of puzzlement. "How's that again?"
   
	Leon glanced around the room, then leaned forward. "Did you hear what happened on pier 
234 early this morning?"
   
	Priss shook her head. "My newspaper subscription ran out last week," she said with a 
hint of sarcasm.
   
	Leon told her the events of the last twelve hours. Priss listened quietly, nodding every 
so often to show she was still following his story. After five minutes, she put her fork down, 
and looked at him with sympathy. "What do you have on this Nemesis?"
   
	Leon shrugged. "He's been active in the United States of America for the last four years. 
Appears out of nowhere, hits his targets, and fades away. Each attack is against a known 
criminal organization, and is performed with military precision and perfection. His best-known 
tactic is the `Blitz,' in which he hits several targets in rapid succession. He makes sure no 
innocent bystanders get killed, and has even helped people injured in his attacks."
   
	"Sounds like a real boy scout," mumbled Priss. 
   
	"Doesn't he?" 
   
	Priss took a sip from her drink before she remarked, "I bet the cops have a fit wherever 
he shows up."
   
	"Officially, yes."
   
	Priss looked at him carefully. "Unofficially?"
   
	"Unofficially, there's a lot of silent support out there for him. Every single criminal 
outfit Nemesis has taken down so far has been untouchable by the local police. He's never fire 
at a police officer, not even a dirty one, and more then one officer owns the guy his life. 
Also, after he's pulled out of an area, the local police get a large folder of evidence that 
allows them to arrest the surviving members of the gang. I almost feel admiration for the
guy."
  
	"You? Feeling admiration for a vigilante?"
  
	He shrugged. "Why not? We have our own group of vigilantes right here, and on more then 
the odd occasion, I'm damn thankful for their help." He grinned at her. "Even when the hotheaded 
one of the team continues to turn me down for a date."
  
	"Maybe she has better taste then I do," replied Priss, returning Leon's grin.
  
	"Could be, but that hardsuit would stand out in a crowd. And making a pass at her would 
be . . . difficult at the very least."
    
	"True. Anything else on Nemesis?"
   
	"Only I've been saddled with a tough N-police detective that's convinced I'm only in 
the ADP so I can blow things up with impunity." His smile faded. "We have almost no leads, 
and we're forced to wait until he conducts another one of his blitzes."
   
	"Can't you cover the most likely targets?"
   
	"If we knew all of Sato's businesses, we'd shut them down ourselves. None of the under-
cover people has ever gotten close to Sato. Somehow, Nemesis has access to data we don't, and 
he uses it to stay one step ahead of us." 
   
	"Sounds like you have a real problem."
   
	"Tell me something I don't know. That's why I asked you out tonight - I need something 
else to think about beside a hardsuited vigilante and an upcoming gang war."
   
	"Like me shooting you down when you ask me to come up to your apartment to look at your 
etchings?"
   
	He smiled. "Something like that." 
   
	She leaned in toward him. "And what would you say if I said yes?" she asked in a husky 
voice.
    
	He leaned forward and whispered, "Nothing, because I'd be on the floor, the shock being 
too great for my heart to take."
   
	He chuckled as the expression on her face went from smoldering to surprise in a heart-
beat. It took her several more seconds to recover her composure. "Daley's too good for you," 
she said sarcastically. 
 
	"So he tells me every chance he gets." 
   
	They spent the rest of the dinner talking about mundane things, and keeping the conver-
sation light and nonthreatening. After the waiter left Leon the bill, the police officer picked 
it up and stared at it for several seconds. He frowned.
   
	"What is it?" Priss asked him.
   
	"Just deciding wether to give up eating for two weeks, or letting my rent go for this 
month."
   
	"That expensive?"
   
	He passed her the bill, and her eyes widened in surprise. "I suggest giving up eating - 
you could stand to lose the weight."
   
	"Hey!" He snatched the bill back and reached for his wallet. 
   
	Priss pulled out several large currency bills out of her pocket and dropped them on the 
table. "That should cover my half of the bill."
   
	"I thought you said I was paying tonight," he said, looking hurt.
   
	"And give you something to hold over me? Dream on, pal." She reached over and grabbed her 
leather jacket. "Come on. We've still got the Fu-Shui Nightclub to hit."
  


Chapter 7


  
Sato's home
District 4
February 10, 2036
7:38pm

 	The young man knocked softly on the door of Sato's office. He waited until he heard a 
command to enter, and he did so. He strode over to the front of the desk, and bowed. "The men 
you have requested have arrived, Sir."
   
	Sato looked up slowly from his computer monitor and nodded. "Very well, Honjuji. I will be 
with them shortly. Have there been any other reports of Nemesis?"
   
	"No sir. But it is a good bet he will strike tonight. And he will probably attack several 
sites in rapid succession, as it is his custom to do."
   
	Sato nodded. "How are the Jager battlesuits organized to handle Nemesis?"
   
	"The K-11s are grouped into four three-men units," replied Honjuji briskly. "They're 
positioned in the north, south, east and west sectors of the city." 
   
	"Why not leave them in a central location until our enemy shows up, and attack him in 
strength?"
   
	"This way, at least one of our battlesuit units can reach Nemesis's location within five 
minutes of being alerted. It will be the responsibility of the first unit on the scene to track 
and harass our enemy. As more of our units gather, we can then concentrate on the elimination 
of Nemesis."

   	"And our security of our businesses?"
  
	"Every business has at least two extra men on guard. Our more important businesses have 
double the normal number of guards. All the men are armed with machine guns or shotguns, with 
antiboomer rounds. Also, every location has a grenade launcher with antiboomer rounds." 
  
	Sato nodded. "Excellent. I am pleased with your work in this matter."
  
	Honjuji couldn't quite keep the disapproval he felt out of his voice as he continued. "We 
could have increased the security at each location had we closed down several of our smaller 
operations, and used the manpower to beef up our larger, and more profitable, operations."
  
	"No."
  
	"Why not, sir? Right now, we are stretched thin guarding possible targets that Nemesis 
will not bother to attack."
   
	Sato looked up at his senior field boss. "To close any of our locations would send the 
wrong signals to the others. We must show that this Nemesis is nothing more then a minor 
annoyance, an irritant that doesn't affect our businesses." 
   
	He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Honjuji's. "To do anything else would 
give the impression that the Sleeping Dragon is weak, and unable to hold on to everything it 
now controls. Under those conditions, even after we have killed this irritant, we would have 
the others circling us like vultures. And soon, we would have to fight to hold onto our right-
ful territory. We would win, in the long run, but it will cost us time and lives."

   	Honjuji nodded. "I understand, sir. In that case, might I recommend that we use the gangs 
under our guidance to act as a roving security in several of the more isolated areas we control? 
Granted, it would not be the same as having our own men there, but it would be better then nothing."

   	"I agree. Tell the leaders I expect every single member of their gangs to be out on the 
street tonight, no exceptions."
   
	"Yes sir. Anything else?"
   
	Sato shook his head. "I will be at the meeting in five minutes. You may go."



OKA garments factory.
District 7
February 10, 2036
9:37pm

	The factory was actually a series of run down brick buildings in a quiet industrial sector 
south of the city's center. During the day, it employed three hundred people to produce a cheap 
line of clothes. At night, one of the largest illegal gambling houses in the district operated 
in the basement of the main building, generating a sizable amount of income for the Sleeping
Dragon Yakuza.
   
	In the shadow of one of the loading docks, fifty meters away from the Main building, 
there was someone watching the factory. The armored figure of Nemesis scanned the scene before 
him through the infrared viewer built into his helmet. There were maybe three dozen cars parked 
in the adjoining lot, mostly upscale models, which told him that the casino was open and running 
as usual.
  
	Close to the parking lot, a set of stairs led down to a steel door. Behind that, a narrow 
hallway ran to another steel door, and the gambling establishment itself. According to the Intel 
Maria had gathered, the usual hardman force was about a dozen, evenly split between the inside 
and outside, armed with pistols. There was a small armory inside the casino, in case of trouble, 
but he figured that Sato would issue the orders, and the guards would be expecting trouble.
   
	There were two men standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in dark somber suits. 
Neither man was older then thirty, but they had the hard look of experienced killers. One had 
a machine gun slung over one shoulder, while the other held a shotgun loosely in his hands. 
They were smoking and talking to each other quietly. They don't really expect trouble. Their 
mistake.
   
	He opened the communication channel. "You in place, Sarge?"
   
	//Ready and waiting, sir. No activity on the Yak's channels.//
   
	"Just make sure they don't get a call for help off before I'm finished."
   
	//Don't worry. All they'll get is snow.//
   
	"I know. Nemesis out."
   
	He continued to scan the area, looking for the other outside guards. There should be two 
teams of patrolling guards that regularly switched with the door guards, and if the Intel is 
good, one pair should appear about . . . 
   
	Just then, two more hardmen came around a corner of the main building and walked over to 
the guards standing at the top of the basement stairs. They talked for a minute, and exchanged 
a laugh that carried in the night air. Then, the first pair shouldered their weapons and walked 
away, disappearing around a corner of the building. The new pair relaxed, one of them lighting 
a cigarette and taking a puff. That's four. Where are the other -
   
	From behind him, the sound of a gun bolt being pulled back gave Nemesis just enough 
warning that he just found the last two guards - or more accurately, they had found him. DAMN!
   
	He smoothly dropped into a crouch, and turned toward the sound, his railgun coming up to 
track and fire. A stream of lead screamed over his head, missing him by a dozen centimeters. He 
heard someone curse, and then he saw them in the infrared. 
   
	There were three of them, standing at the corner of the loading dock, twenty meters away 
from him. One had an old assault rifle, an M-16 by the look of it, up and pointed at him. There 
was smoke still coming out of the barrel as the mobster tried to adjust to his target's new 
position. The other two gunmen were still recovering from their surprise, and were still 
bringing up their guns to fire.
   
	Nemesis's railgun whispered as he fired several steel needles in reply. The alert gunman 
folded over his weapon as the spikes slammed into him, and he dropped to the ground. The other 
two, shocked at the sudden death of their fellow, hesitated.
   
	Nemesis's left arm came up, and the grenade launcher coughed. The night sky lit up as 
the HE round impacted right between the two, sending both bodies flying. The grenade continued 
to light the area for a scant few seconds before it died out.
   
	So much for the quiet approach. He opened the channel with Sarge as he turned and 
ran toward the stairs leading to the basement door. "Sarge, I've been made. Start jamming now!" 
No time to waste. The numbers are running.
  
	"Jamming now."
  
	As Nemesis ran toward his target, he saw the pair of guards who had just started their 
patrol race around the corner. One of them pointed at him, and both charged at the armored form, 
guns blazing. He felt several rounds of the fusillade ricochet off the armor, but not hard 
enough to affect his movement.
  
	You had your chance. My turn. He didn't slow as he returned their fire. The grenade 
launcher on his left arm switched internal magazines and coughed again. The antipersonnel round 
covered the distance in an eye blink, and exploded waist-high just in front of the two mobsters. 
The explosion sent one hundred and twenty-eight steel balls out in a tight pattern at better 
then a hundred meters per second. Neither man had a chance. 
   
	Nemesis activated his thrusters, and launched himself into the air. At the top of his arc, 
he cut his thrusters and performed a forward flip. Below him, the two surviving outside guards 
were standing shoulder to shoulder. One of the guards was screaming into a comm device, while 
the other was scanning the darkness around him, uncertain of what had happened to their fellows. 
   
	The hardman looked up, and screamed in terror as he saw the darker shadow against the 
night sky. The other guard forgot his comm device, and Nemesis could see the horror mixed with 
amazement on the man's face as he looked up. Surprise. 
   
	The vigilante landed less then a meter from the pair. The Vibrosword popped free, and 
Nemesis stabbed the hardman on his left. He was rewarded with a scream that quickly became a 
gurgle, then the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. 
   
	He turned slowly, allowing part of the blood still on the blade to spatter the last guard. 
The man looked pale and the expression on his face was pure fear. He dropped the shotgun, and 
backed away, his arms up in a pleading gesture.
   
	"You have one chance," said the vigilante, the voice made cold and impersonal by the 
loudspeaker. "Run and live, or stand and die. Your choice." 
  
	The mobster turned and ran, fears lending him speed. Nemesis watched him for several 
seconds until the hardman disappeared into the night. Got to move fast now. 
   
	A couple of strides took him to the top of the basement stairs. A trio of HE grenades 
turned the steel door and most of the surrounding frame into junk. Before the smoke and dust 
cleared, Nemesis launched himself down the stairs. Using his thrusters to direct his jump, he 
bounced off the wall opposite the doorway, and then through the space where the door used to
be.
   
	The cloud of smoke and dust had thinned out to the point where he could see the inner 
steel door, partially open, at the far end of the corridor. He also saw a pair of surprised 
hardmen between him and the inner door. They had been in the corridor when the door had been 
destroyed, and were now trying to recover from the concussion.
   
	Nemesis didn't give them a chance. The railgun came up and both mobsters went down for 
good. Without pausing, the soldier jumped over the two bodies and slammed into the slowly 
closing steel door. The hardsuit's weight and strength forced open the door, sending the trio 
of guards who had been attempting to close the door flying.
   
	He found himself in a large room, thirty meters by twenty meters. The room was richly 
furnished in plush reds, greens and blacks, a startling contrast to the area outside the 
building. A large roulette table occupied the center of the room, while other tables devoted 
to blackjack, craps, and other games of chance lined the walls. A light haze of smoke filled 
the  room from the cigars and cigarettes of the customers.
   
	There were maybe a hundred people in the room. Most were clearly customers, elegantly 
dressed in expensive suits and dresses, suitably shocked at Nemesis's sudden entrance. A few 
others were employees who shared their patron's expression. Neither group was an immediate 
threat.
   
	But the several men in tuxedos, holding firearms, were. Nemesis fired his railgun again, 
his first burst of needles taking out two of the opposition.He shifted to his right to avoid 
several shots and nailed another hardman with a single needle through the chest.
   
	At that point, the crowd, suddenly finding themselves in a firefight, panicked. Seeing 
the only exit in the place clear, they stampeded for it, placing themselves between the soldier 
and the surviving Yakuza guards. For once, Nemesis was glad that Sato insisted that his men 
follow the old Yakuza law of avoiding killing Katagi, or non-Yakuza. That was the only thing 
that saved the situation from becoming a bloodbath. The law didn't apply to him, of course.... 
  
	With neither side able to get a clean shot at the other, both looked for a way to maneu-
ver free of the panicked patrons. Using the crowd and the gambling tables on the right side of 
the room to shield him, Nemesis moved deeper into the room. Several shots punched into the wall 
behind him, leaving fist-sized holes in the cinder block walls. He heard shouts from one of the 
hardmen, the team leader probably, to get the grenade launcher.
   
	Nemesis dropped behind a blackjack table, and upended it. Chips, glasses of liquor, and 
cards went flying as the table fell on its side. Several more crashes answered his as the 
surviving gangsters sought cover for themselves. Nemesis crouched down, and quickly accessed 
his position.
   
	There can't be more then four Yakuza left. But they're between me and the door, and 
well covered. They're using antiboomer rounds too. Sato did beef up security and firepower, 
but not enough, at least not here. He checked his ammo level. Three more bursts with 
the railgun, and I have one HE, four antipersonnel, and five tear gas rounds left. Enough for 
the job.
   
	He changed magazines on the grenade launcher and leapt up. The grenade launcher spat 
out three rounds of antipersonnel, followed by three rounds of tear gas at the crouching Yakuza 
members. He dropped behind his makeshift shelter just in time to avoid several bursts of slugs. 
In seconds, the room began to fill with tear gas and the sounds of coughing and shouts. He 
heard the leader shout at his men to stand firm, and fixed his position in the fog. Time to 
take out the head.
  
	He leaned around the right edge of the table, and fired a burst from his railgun in the 
direction of the leader's voice. There was a cry of pain, followed by a scream of agony, then 
something heavy dropping onto a table. Someone thrashed for several seconds, then silence except 
for the sounds of coughing.
  
	Nemesis turned on his loudspeaker, and said, "You have ten seconds to clear out of here. 
There's no chance of help arriving in time to save you. This place has already been eliminated 
from Sato's list of businesses. Maybe Sato will let you live, but if I see any of you in the 
next ten minutes, you will die. Am I clear?"
  
	There was nothing for a second, then he heard the sounds of running footfalls heading 
for the steel door, mixed with coughing and screams of someone in pain being dragged along. 
He waited several more seconds before he stood and scanned the room carefully. Only dead 
bodies were left in the room. 
   
	He nodded in satisfaction, and he contacted Sarge. "Objective secured. Give me two minutes 
to plant the phosphorus charges, then meet me at the rendezvous point."
   
	//Right.//

   	Nemesis looked around the room, his mind working out the best positions to plant the half 
dozen phosphorus charges he carried in an armored compartment at his waist. This will hurt 
you Sato, but this is only just the beginning.
   

  
Sylia's apartment
February 10, 2036
9:45pm

	Sylia walked into the computer room, a cup of tea in one hand, the data disk Nene had 
given her in the other. She thought about the conversation she'd had with Nene earlier. And 
the thought gnawed at her. Could the Knight Sabers stay on the sidelines, should a gang war 
erupt in MegaTokyo?
   
	She had to see the data Nene had collected on Nemesis, and decide for herself. If this 
Nemesis was a danger, could the Knight Sabers stop him? Or help him? There were too many 
unknowns to base any decisions on. She sat and slid the disk into the waiting drive. She 
accessed the data and began reading it.
   
	The first known appearance of Nemesis was about four years ago, in MegaNew York. There, 
a particularly vicious drug gang that had ruled a large portion of the city was wiped out 
almost to a man. The police reports quoted the few survivors' stories about being attacked 
by someone wearing an advanced hardsuit. 
   
	Two months later, a gun running operation out of Miami was shut down brutally by someone 
wearing a hardsuit. This time, police put a name to this unknown vigilante: Nemesis. This was 
the first case that Nemesis used the special signature that was his trademark -- A capital 
letter N in a circle inside a triangle, one point of the triangle always pointing in the 
direction of the destruction.
 
	The next several years read like a travel log of raids across North America. A white 
slavery ring in San Angles, an organ rigging operation in Dallas, two drug running operations 
in Chicago, and a Northwest US group selling illegally modified combat Boomers were some of 
the more public of Nemesis's battles with organized crime. Each time, the unknown person came 
out on top, using a combination of technology and tactics that cracked the opposition with 
quick and brutal efficiency. All that was left for the local law enforcement to do was sweep 
up the pieces Nemesis left.

	As Sylia read the files, she started to mentally piece together a possible background on 
Nemesis. From the way the attacks were staged, Nemesis had to have a military background, most 
likely in Special Forces. His avoidance of targets with a high number of bystanders told her 
that this wasn't a madman behind the helmet, but a carefully calculating personality who kept 
his war directed solely at the chosen enemy. He also had access to money and advanced tech-
nology, which possibly meant there was someone helping him.
  
	She leaned back in her chair, and sipped her tea. The hardsuit Nemesis was using was 
somewhat familiar, possibly a Stingray-designed suit. From the large assortment of weapons 
the hardsuit was reported to have, there had to be a modularity built into the design. She 
wondered if Greg Mallory had anything to do with Nemesis. After several minutes, she decided 
that the CEO of MALCORP had too much to handle with the Black Knights to add a high-tech 
Vigilante to his plate.
  
	Still, she needed to know from him directly. She glanced up at the watch. There was a 
fourteen-hour time difference between MegaToyko and Philadelphia, but Greg should be in the 
office by now. Moving carefully, she dialed his office number from memory, and waited for the 
connection.
  
	The line was picked up on the third ring, but the vidphone screen remained dark. /MALCORP. 
Mr. Malloy's office. Can I help you?/
  
	"Is Mr. Malloy in?"

	/Who's calling, please?/
  
	"Miss Sylia Stingray, from MegaTokyo."
  
	/Please hold./ 
  
	There was silence for five seconds, then she heard Greg's voice. /Sylia?/ Several seconds 
later, he appeared on the small vidphone screen. His mismatched eyes lit up with pleasure.
  
	"Hello, Greg."
  
	/What do I owe to this pleasure?/ He looked amused. /Have you reconsidered my proposal?/
  
	"I'm still thinking about it," she replied dryly. "But, that's not what I called to talk 
to you about."
  
	/What then?/
   
	"How secure is this line?"
   
	/As secure as it can get. What's happening?/
   
	"How familiar are you with a vigilante who calls himself Nemesis?"
   
	/Ah. That explains the pleasure of this call. We heard that he made a big splash there 
in the last day or so. You're wondering if I'm sponsoring him, right?/
   
	"A good guess."
   
	/The short answer to your question is no. I have people keeping track of his movements, 
and I would be more then happy to have him as an asset. But it appears that our man is very 
independent./
   
	"He's a mercenary?"
   
	/I doubt it. I've never heard of him taking on anything but organized crime groups. He 
probably uses money he's taken from the gangs he's fighting to finance his war. If so, he's 
completely self sufficient./
   
	"Any idea where his hardsuit came from?"
   
	Greg shook his head. /No, but if it isn't an offshoot of the Knight Saber or Black Knight 
hardsuits, I'm Quincy's new water boy./
   
	"Which means that the third copy of the hardsuit data has turned up."
   
	/Looks like it has in some form./
   
	"Thanks, Greg."
  
	/Let me know if you reconsider my proposal./
 
	"You'll be the first person to know."
  
	/I should hope so. Good bye, Sylia./
  
	"Good bye, Greg."
  
	Sylia broke the connection and leaned back in her chair, her tea forgotten. She continued 
to read the data, but her mind was focused on  some unpleasant thoughts about a possible clash 
between Nemesis and the Knight Sabers.




Chapter 8


 
District 8
February 10, 2036
10:01pm

	"An ugly sucker, isn't it?" asked Leon. They were standing across the street, looking at 
the Fu-Shui nightclub's gaudy outside. 
   
	Priss shrugged. "It's supposed to be the hot spot in the city these days. I've been 
wanting to check it out for a while, but -"
   
	"You couldn't afford it?"
   
	"No, stupid. Because they only let couples in without a hefty cover charge."
    
	"So I'm supplying you the other half of the equation, so you can get in." He looked 
skyward. "A handsome, brave member of the AD police, reduced to being nothing more then a 
way to get into a nightclub free. What has the world come to?"
   
	Priss elbowed him in the ribs. "Will you shut up?"
 	
	"Why should I? I -" He stopped talking and looked around carefully, his face taking on a 
calculating look. "Shit," he breathed.
  
	"What?"
  
	"This place is one of Shikichi Sato's places." 
  
	Priss looked around carefully. "How can you tell?"
  
	Leon motioned toward the front entrance of the night club. "Besides the four overdressed 
hoods at the door?" he asked quietly. "He's got this place covered like a blanket. There's at 
least three on the roof, and there's a carload of them parked half a block down on this side 
of the street. There are several more of Sato's men stationed in several doorways on both sides 
of the streets."

	Priss looked at the places Leon indicated with his words. He was right, there was Yakuza 
everywhere. "Do you want to forget this?" she asked, taking hold of his arm. "We could hit Crazy 
Joe's. I haven't been there in a while. Or even the Hot Legs."
   
	Leon gave her a smile and a shake of his head. "Oh, no you don't. You wanted to get in, 
and I have this sudden interest in seeing this place myself. Come on." With that, Leon led Priss 
across the street.
   
	As they approached the door, two of the doormen move to block their way. Both were large, 
bulky men with hard faces and cold eyes. "Good evening," one of them said in a horse voice.
   
	"Is there a problem?" asked Leon easily.
   
	"We have to check for firearms," replied the horse voiced doorman. "Club rules."  
 
	"Oh?" replied Leon. "Matter of fact, I am armed." He opened his jacket to show them his 
pistol sitting in a shoulder holster.
   
	Both hoods opened their eyes wide at this sudden announcement. But before either could 
say anything, a new voice said, "Hijo, Kusa, let Inspector McNichol and his guest pass."
   
	The two doormen turned away, and a smaller spry looking man with salt and pepper hair 
walked toward Priss and Leon. He gave them each a small bow. "Forgive my employee's manners," 
he said smoothly. "I'm afraid there have been some problems recently at several of my employer's 
business, and we are a bit on edge."
  
	"That's understandable, Satoru," replied Leon with a shrug. "The problem wouldn't happen 
to be called Nemesis, would it?"
  
	Satoru's smiled slipped slightly. "I am not at liberty to say."
 
	"I'd be lying if I said I was upset at what has happened lately to your employer."
  
	"I realize that you have some . . . problems with my employer."
  
	Leon shrugged. "The only problem I have with Shikichi Sato is the fact he's the Oyabun 
of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza, and the biggest crook in MegaTokyo, outside of Quincy."
  
	"Please, Mr. Sato is a simple businessman. There have been criminal charges against him 
in the past, but they have been proven to be without merit."
  
	"Only because several witnesses who would have testified against your boss suddenly 
disappeared."
  
	 It was Satoru's turn to shrug. "If they decided at the last minute that lying about my 
employer was the wrong thing to do, Mr. Sato cannot be held responsible." He stepped back and 
waved an arm. "Please, enjoy your visit to my employer's humble business."
  
	With Priss's gentle tug, they passed the still smiling Yakuza leader and entered the 
club. A blast of music and noise assaulted their ears, making any conversation impossible. 
Using hand signals, they made their way through the packed crowds lining the narrow, dimly 
lit, entrance hall. The hall was as garish as the outside of the building, with strange and 
bizarre looking masks hung on the wall. Priss made a face, and Leon nodded his agreement. 
  
	After about five meters, the hall opened into a massive, two-stories tall room. The noise 
was overwhelming now, and the only light was coming from several dozen flashing globes rotating 
slowly in the ceiling. There were several platforms suspended from the ceilings, packed with 
dancers wearing close to nothing swaying to some unknown beat. 
  
	The place was packed with people, most writhing on the large dance floor in the center 
of the room. There was a long bar against the far wall, with people packed around it two and 
three deep. There were at least four bar tenders behind the bar serving drinks, but they could 
barely keep up with the demand. 
  
	Against the wall to the right, a live band was playing a loud, screeching song that made 
Priss's tastes in music cringe in distaste. Leon didn't bother speaking, but motioned toward a 
glass enclosed, second floor lounge to the left that overlooked the dance floor. Priss nodded, 
and the pair threaded their way through the enthusiastic crowd.
   
	As they came abreast of the short corridor leading to the bathroom, a short, broad-
shouldered man with a graying crewcut rapidly emerged from the corridor and plowed right into 
both of them. The only thing that saved Priss from being knocked down was Leon's grip on her 
arm. The man mouthed "Excuse me," and headed for the front door.
   
	"Watch where you're going!" shouted Leon at the retreating man. The sound level made it 
impossible to hear his shout from farther then two meters away, and Priss doubted the man heard 
Leon. Muttering to himself, Leon quickly checked for his wallet and gun, and relaxed as he 
determined that he still had both. 
 
	The rest of the walk to the lounge was without incident. The staircase was wide enough 
for both of them to walk to together. Once they reached the lounge door, Leon beat Priss to it 
and opened for her. Giving him a nasty glare as she went by, she entered the lounge, trailed by 
Leon.
   
	Inside the lounge, the sound level was reduced to more manageable levels, as the thick 
glass eliminated most of the club's noise. A smaller bar was up against the far wall, with 
tables and booths taking up most of the space in the lounge. An open booth overlooking the 
dance floor was spotted and quickly occupied, and a human waitress took their drink orders. 
After the drinks were delivered, they watched the dancers on the floor below them.
  
	"What do you think of this place so far?" asked Leon.
  
	"The band sucks," she replied, after taking a sip of her drink. "They sound like 
strangling cats."
  
	"Critic."
  
	"I know music, and that isn't music." She thought for a minute. "Who was that guy you 
talk to at the front door? He seemed to know you."
  
	Leon looked grim. "That's Masahiro Satoru. One of Shikichi Sato's right hand men. He's an 
oily bastard who is almost as smart as he thinks he is. Don't let the good looks and smooth 
manners fool you - he's a cold-blooded snake."
  
	Priss nodded. "I know the type. But what has you uptight? And don't say nothing, because 
you were perfectly all right until we came in here."
  
	Leon placed his fingertips against his temples and looked at Priss. "Word is out on 
the street that there's a big drug lab somewhere in this part of town. New and exotic types 
of drugs are now popping up, and the N-Police Narcotic Unit has been trying to find the lab 
for the past three months."

   	"You think it's here."
  
	Leon gave her a small smile. "Either that, or all this security is to keep armed music 
critics from storming the stage and finishing off the bad reviews with gunfire."
  
	"You humor hasn't gotten any better." But Priss gave him a small smile anyway. "But you're 
not going to investigate to find this lab tonight, are you?"
  
	Leon shook his head. "I'll pass along my thoughts to a friend I have over in the N-police, 
and they can handle it. Besides, it's going to take more then a possible drug lab to keep me 
from your glowing presence tonight."
  
	"Are you sure?"
  
	"Scouts' honor."
  


District 8
February 10, 2036
10:11pm

	From the rooftop of a twelve-story office building, Nemesis watched the building below 
and across the street from his position. He crouched in the darkness, his hardsuit blending 
into the shadows. He was only thirty meters away from his last target of the night, and his 
most important one. 
   
	After the destruction of the basement casino, the other two strikes had gone like clock-
work. The brothel on Ja-sia had only a quartet of guards who had taken one look at the hard-
suit, and decided that they weren't going to commit suicide. They'd followed the Madam, her 
girls, and the customers out the front door as fast as they could go. A scattering of incendiary 
charges had quickly turned the brothel into a raging firestorm. 
 
	Nemesis glanced in the direction of the Byjang toy factory. There were police cars, 
lights blazing in the darkness, all around the factory. That had been more a more difficult 
target for several reasons. The guards there had decided to fight, and with all the potential 
explosive  power of several tons of ammo, he had been forced to be more careful. A well time 
phone call had brought the N-police roaring onto the scene in time to discover a dozen dead 
members of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza, along with a large cache of military grade weapons. 
   
	Enough of the past. The present needs my attention now. There were four guards 
patrolling the roof of the building that had the drug lab. They were grouped into pairs, 
patrolling the flat roof, each armed with a heavy barreled rifle. Every so often, one of the 
pairs would speak into a small communicator. Sato's not taking any chances. He's expecting 
trouble. I think I should let him know he was right.
   
	The roof itself was mostly flat, but far from being an easy place to land. A series of 
large solar panels occupied the rooftop's center, glinting dimly in the city's lights. Most of 
the rest of the roof had air conditions, heat exchangers, pipes, and other equipment designed 
for use by the building. In the far corner of the roof, a small structure protected the stairs 
leading to the roof from the whims of the city's weather. I'll have to land in that stretch 
behind the Panels - it the largest cleared area on the roof.
   
	Seeing nothing new, he refocused his view on several of the nearest rooftops, and noted 
the other guards. Good. They looked cold and tired. The last thing they would expect is to 
see me. That should give me an advantage .
   
	"I'm in place," said Sarge over the radio. "The smoke and stink bombs should go off in 
two minutes."
   
	"Understood," replied Nemesis. "Any problems?"
   
	"A possible one. I ran into one of the ADP inspectors - McNichol - as I was coming out 
of the bathroom."
   
	"Did he look he was there for business or pleasure?"
   
	"Pleasure, I guess. He looked like he was on a date, good-looking brunette."
   
	"I'll keep an eye out for him. Any last minute changes?" 
 
	"None that I could see. I thought I saw Satoru when I came out, but I only caught a 
glimpse of him."
   
	"Understood. Start jamming when I give the signal."
   
	"Roger that. Standing by." 
   
	The next minute and a half crept by slowly. Nemesis spent most of that time watching 
the area surrounding the building, looking for any hidden traps. He saw none, and he tensed 
for the opening move in this raid.
   
	A muffled thud was audible came from the building, followed by two more in rapid succes-
sion. "Bombs have been detonated," said Sarge.
   
	"Start jamming."
   
	"Jamming now."
   
	Nemesis took two running steps and launched himself into space. As he cleared the edge 
of the building, his thrusters launched him into the air. He reached the top of his arc before 
he cut the thrusters, and allowed gravity and momentum to carry him the rest of the way.
   
	He saw the guards turn and stare up at him, the shock in their faces clear even at this 
distance. It took several seconds for the idea to register that they were under attack, but 
by then it was too late. Several pointed their rifles at him, but their first shots were wild.
   
	Nemesis fired the railgun twice, hitting one of the hardmen in the chest and arms with 
several spikes. As the hardman went down in a bloody heap, his partner dropped his rifle and 
started to run. Nemesis didn't bother firing at the running man, instead devoting all his 
attention to the upcoming landing.
   
	At the last second, he activated his thrusters, slowing just enough to prevent him from 
slamming into the solar panels. Clearing the panels by only centimeters, he landed in the dark-
ness behind them, throwing himself into a forward roll as he landed to absorb his momentum. He 
came out of the roll ready to fire at the first target he saw.
   
	There were shouts and running feet, but no one challenged him immediately. He leapt for 
the door leading downstairs, his leap carrying him most of the distance. An air-conditioning 
unit he landed on buckled under his momentum. Another jump put him with an arm's length of the 
door - and into the gun sights of the other pair of roof guards.
   
	Only the combat instincts of a veteran warrior save Nemesis from being killed or severely 
wounded right then. He saw the two thugs raise their rifles to fire at him out of the corner 
of his eye, and he threw himself back and away from the door. He heard the guns fire, the crack 
of the projectile as it broke the sound barrier just above his head, and the tearing sound as 
the slugs slammed into the steel door with incredible force.
   
	Railguns, Nemesis thought, as he came out a forward roll and fired his own railgun 
at the two guards. Sato armed his people here with railguns. That's not good. If both of 
those rounds had hit me in the same place, I could be dead.
   
	He turned and fired all three HE grenades he'd been carrying at the sagging steel door, 
finishing the job the guard's railguns had started. The heavy door flew off into the night, 
and most of the wooden structure that had been attached to it ceased to exist. Without waiting 
for the results, Nemesis turned and fired a pair of smoke grenades in the direction of the 
surviving roof guards.
  
	As soon as the dense smoke was sufficient to shield his movement from Sato's men, Nemesis 
headed for the open doorway at a full run. Not bothering aiming, he fired twice into the black 
smoke with his railgun to keep the guards back.
  
	He jumped down the stairs, hitting the small landing at the base of the stairs with 
enough force to crack several of the wooden boards. To his left, a shorter flight of stairs 
led down to the sixth floor proper.
  
	A trio of gang members charging up that flight of stairs faltered at the sudden appear-
ance of the vigilante. Two aimed their assault rifles at the black hardsuit, while the third 
turned and dove down the stairs. 

	No time for finesse. The Vibrosword shot free from its housing in the left arm, 
and Nemesis leapt forward, slamming into the startled pair of hardmen. The gangster on the 
left scream as the Vibrosword buried itself in his chest. His partner wasn't able to cry out; 
An armored forearm had broken his jaw and nose at the same time. Both rifles went flying as 
the vigilante's weight sent the three of them crashing down the stairs.
  
	Because of his charge, Nemesis landed on top of the two gangsters. With the Vibrosword 
still buried in the one Yakuza's chest, the two took the brunt of his fall. He heard several 
of the luckless guards' bones breaking under the weight and momentum of the sudden assault. 
Two more down for the count. 
   
	As soon as he landed, he looked up and around him for the next threat. The entire floor 
was one large room, longer then it was wide, with only the outside walls and twin rows of meter 
wide brick columns remaining. Large windows ran the length of the two longer walls, allowing 
some light to enter the room. A flight of stairs at the far end of the room lead downstairs.
That's where I have to go.
   
	There were also several lamps scattered around the room, their light showing the over-
turned cots, tables, and chairs of the Yakuza members who had been stationed on this floor. 
It also showed the dozen Yakuza members scrambling for their weapons and cover.
   
	Damn! Sato must have beefed up his forces more then we thought he would! I can't get 
bogged down in a firefight here, so I'll have to blast my way through. The Vibrosword 
snapped back into it's housing, leaving a trace of blood on the hardsuit's forearm. Nemesis 
looked at the two he'd laded on. Satisfied that neither would be a threat anytime soon, he 
rolled forward to take cover behind a brick pillar. 
   
	As he did so, Nemesis felt the floor and pillar shudder under the impact of several 
streams of bullets. He leaned around the pillar and fired off a flachette grenade, quickly 
followed by a flash bang grenade. He pulled back behind the pillar just as the grenades 
exploded. The flachette grenade sent sixty, needle-like projectiles tearing into the unarmored 
hardmen. Those that managed to avoid the first grenade were simultaneously blinded and deafened 
by the bright light and loud bang of the second.
   
	As soon as the second grenade exploded, Nemesis charged out from behind the pillar. With-
out slowing, he stormed through the crowd, striking out at anyone unlucky enough to get in his 
way. He fired his railgun only once, that at a half-blinded hardman who tried to bring his 
machine gun up to fire. The Yakuza went down hard, his chest a mass of red.
   
	Nemesis reached the stairway, and leapt down the stairs. As he landed at the foot of 
the stairs, he heard shouts, screams, and several shots ring out around him. He fired at a 
charging Yakuza, the railgun flachette punching through the man's face and upper chest easily.
   
	The drug lab was just like upstairs, only the windows on this floor had been painted 
over to prevent light from spilling out. Four large fans attached to crossbeams above spun 
slowly to generate some airflow. The ceiling also had a heavy duty Halogen system installed, 
ready to eliminate the threat of fire. 
   
	Several dozen tables were neatly arranged in different areas of the room, each area a 
step in the drug making progress. Several tables had chemical equipment sitting on them, while 
others had bags of colored powder neatly stacked on them, ready to be shipped out. He noted 
his chemical sensors listed several of the more expensive and popular drugs on the black market.
Street value of all this? Upwards of three hundred million, I guess. Should make a nice bonfire 
before I bring the building down on it.
   
	Half of the people in the room wore white lab coats, the other half somber suits. The lab 
people took one look at the hardsuited vigilante, and fled for the stairway at the far end of 
the room, and temporary safety. The suits produced weapons and opened fire.
  
	Nemesis ducked to the left, the grenade launcher spitting out three smoke grenades. As 
the black smoke spread throughout the room, he moved quickly to a series of pipes running up 
the wall to the left of the staircase. He quickly traced the one he wanted, and the vibrosword 
popped free of its housing. With a quick slash, he cut the pipe in two, releasing a small cloud
of Halogen gas. As the pipe parted, he gripped the lower half of the pipe and bent it away from 
the wall. He crushed the pipe until it was flat, then folded the flattened part of the pipe 
double. That should take care of the fire suppression for this floor.
   
	He heard the shouts of men, followed by several sets of heavy tread on the stairs. They've 
gotten their act together quicker then I thought. The smoke filled most of the room now, 
and Nemesis could hear the shouts and coughing of the hardmen, accented by the occasional shot. 
Time to even the odds a bit.
   
	He tapped a button on his forearm, and the room took on an eerie blue glow. There was 
no problem spotting the two nearest Yakuza in the smoke, as they were visible against the blue 
background as two yellow-and-red man-shaped outlines. He fired his railgun twice, and was moving 
in their direction even as the bodies fell. 
 
	The shouts and coughing became louder, any cohesion lost in the thick rolling smoke. 
Deciding that he needed a distraction, Nemesis grabbed a table and threw it at a small group 
of gangsters several meters away. The makeshift missile smashed into the unsuspecting men, 
sending them crashing into several other tables. 
   
	As the others closed in on the screaming men, Nemesis reached into the armored compart-
ment at his belt and slapped an incendiary charge high on a pillar. He continued to move 
through the room, toward the staircase leading down, pausing to add two more charges to other 
pillars he passed. 
   
	He reached the stairs leading down before someone shouted, "There He is! He's by the 
stairs -" 
   
	Nemesis fired off a round at the shouting gangster that silenced him permanently, then 
followed it up with a flachette grenade into the largest group of forms standing together. 
Before the grenade exploded, Nemesis was already halfway down the flight of stairs to the 
fourth floor.
   
	He hit the floor hard and did a forward roll to his right, clear of the staircase. There 
were surprised shouts and a flurry of slugs striking all around him. As he came up on one knee, 
he pressed a small red button on the hardsuit's right forearm control panel.
   
	The charges he'd set on the floor above detonated, sending shock waves throughout the 
building. A sheet of flame rolled down the stairs and out into the room, catching several 
Yakuza members who were standing too close to the stairway and turning them into human torches. 
Nemesis felt the fireball pass over him, too weak to do serious damage to the hardsuit, but 
still strong enough to kill unprotected men.
   
	He heard shouts, and the sounds of men running away. There was the sound of a large 
number of people racing down the stairs, then nothing. They must have pulled back, and 
are setting up an ambush for me below.
   
	He shot to his feet and started moving toward the far end of the room. The tables on 
this floor were mostly stacked with small neat bundles of money, a King's ransom in human 
misery and suffering. You won't be getting any of this, Sato.
   
	Several charred bodies laid close by, while a couple of other writhed in pain. Nemesis 
gave the badly burned, but still alive, victims a mercy round from his railgun, and moved on.
   
	"What's your status, Sir?" asked Sarge.
   
	"I'm on the fourth floor now," Nemesis replied, slapping another explosive charge against 
a pillar. "Resistance is heavier then expected."
   
	"It's about to get worse. Someone got word out. There are three response units heading 
your way, two of them Yakuza. The NP has sent a unit to investigate, but the two Yaks teams 
will beat any real ADP response by at least ten minutes. ETA for the first Yak group is six 
minutes."
   
	"Any more good news?"
   
	"The Yaks have armored suits on the way. ETA for them is eight minutes."
   
	"Fallback to Point YANKEE. I'll meet up with you there."
   
	"But -"
  
	"Do it."
  
	"Understood, Sir. Good luck."
  
	"Thanks, I'll need it."
  
	Two gangsters who'd been crouched behind a table stacked with bundles of Yen decided this 
was the time to make their move. The both reared up and opened fire on Nemesis at point blank 
range. Sparks flew as the bullets bounced off the armored suit. 
  
	But while the armor protected Nemesis from the actual bullets, it did nothing to cushion 
and protect against the shock of the impact. Nemesis staggered back and crashed into a pillar. 
His chest and abdomen were on fire, and the sudden impact of slamming into the pillar dazed 
him. He slumped to the ground, his vision blurry and unfocused. Not now, Damn it!
  
	Just then, the magazines on both assault rifles ran dry. In desperation, both men strug-
gled to reload. Neither had experience in changing magazines in combat conditions, and the 
process was far from easy. 
   
	Meanwhile Nemesis struggled against the growing darkness. Part of him wanted to give in 
to the sweet release of unconsciousness. But another part of him struggled to push him back 
onto his feet. Slowly, his torso throbbing with every breath, he climbed onto his feet.
   
	Through his blurred vision, Nemesis saw the two hardmen slam fresh magazines into their 
rifles. Faster then he thought possible, Nemesis lifted his left arm and fired the grenade 
launcher. The flachette grenade slammed into the bundles of money and detonated, spreading 
both bills and the two mobsters across a large part of the room.
   
	He took a deep breath slowly, and winced as he felt a sharp pain in his side. At least 
one broken rib, maybe more. Not good. He tapped the suit's autodoctor, which quickly con-
firmed his thoughts. He ordered the autodoctor to administer a shot of a local painkiller and 
a stimulant. I'll pay for it later - if there is a later . . . 
   
	After he finished setting the last of his charges, he disabled the fire suppression 
system for this floor. Several dozen bundles of the larger denomination bills went into the 
pouch at his waist. Once that was done, he used the flamethrower to start several fires among 
the other piles of money, and tossed in as many of the bundles as he could. I'm glad this 
suit is airtight - the last thing I need is to get high on all the drugs floating around this 
place! 
   
	Twice, the hardmen on the floor below tried to charge up the stairs, only to run into 
railgun needles and a flash bang grenade that forced a hasty retreat. It wouldn't take long 
for them to try again, from the shouting he was hearing from below. And he was running low 
on ammo for the railgun and grenade launcher.
   
	I've got four minutes to get the hell out of here before the Jagers arrive. The 
fire in Nemesis torso was dying down, but there was still the sharp pain of the cracked rib. 
His head seemed clearer and more focused.  Now how do I get out of here? He looked at 
the windows and a plan formed in his mind . . . 
  


	Satoru looked at the men before him. It was uncomfortable in the narrow hallway, but no 
one was ready to complain. Several held the rifles tightly, a look of uncertainty and fear on 
their faces. They were the only ones left on this floor. The workers who'd been in the drug 
lab had already dashed past them, and were racing down the stairs to the exits. 
   
	Unlike the floors above, the third floor was divided into a series of offices. The Yakuza 
gangsters were clustered around the staircase leading up to the fourth floor. Wisps of smoke 
were drifting down the stairs from above, and the sounds of flames cracking were audible.  
   
	"Idiots!" Satoru screamed. His usually immaculate dress was in disarray. He waved the 
small automatic he was carrying wildly. "You left a fortune upstairs for that animal to destroy! 
All of you are a disgrace to the Sleeping Dragon! You are worse then useless!"
   
	"But sir -" one of the men began to say.
   
	Satoru tuned and shot the man in the chest, twice. The man looked surprised as the red 
stain on his white shirt grew larger. He then collapsed, making several of his companions jump 
back in disgust.  
   
	"Anyone else wants to make an excuse?" Satoru snarled. No one answered. "Good. Now, how 
many men do we have here?"
   
	"Eight," replied Tetsu, one of the senior hoods. "Another eight or so below clearing out 
the club. There's fifteen more on the sixth floor, but they can't get past the fire in the fifth 
floor. Nemesis must have disabled the fire suppression system on the fifth."
 
	"That means he can't escape to the roof," said another.
   
	Satoru glared at him. "Which means he will try either those stairs," he said pointing 
to the flight leading up, "or the windows."
   
	"The guards we got stationed on the other roofs are watching the windows right now," 
said Tetsu. "We managed to get a message out to one of the roving armored suit units, and they 
should be here in three minutes."
   
	"Too long," snarled Satoru. "I want him dead before those suits show up!" He glared at 
Tetsu. "What do we have in the way of heavy firepower?"
   
	"We've got an antiboomer Gerlitch Rifle in the armory," replied Tetsu. "Along with half 
a dozen clips for it. But it's heavier then hell, and a bitch to carry."
   
	"I don't care. I want it up here, and now!" He thought for a second. "There's a secondary 
water sprinkler system that was never removed when we took over the building."
   
	Tetsu nodded. "Mr. Sato ordered the system turned off after some idiot set it off and 
ruined three hundred million yen of drugs. The main is not far from the armory."
   
	"Have someone turn on the main!" 
   
	Tetsu nodded and snapped off an order to two of his men. They scrambled down the hallway 
toward the stairs. Satoru looked at the others, then looked at Tetsu. "Contact the men on the 
sixth floor," he snarled. "I want then to get ready to come down the stairs once the fires dies 
down."
   
	"What do we do until the sprinklers come on?"
   
	"We wait." Satoru's smile was cold. "After all, he's not going anywhere."




Chapter 9



Fu-Shui Nightclub
District 8
February 10, 2036
10:15pm

	The explosions coming from the club's restrooms had been clearly heard in the lounge, 
despite the thick glass. Both Leon and Priss looked in the direction the explosions came from, 
and saw thick white smoke billowing from the short corridor leading to the bathrooms.
   
	"Trouble?" asked Priss.
   
	Leon's face clouded. "I don't know."
   
	They watched the people near the expanding smoke cloud cover their mouths and noses, 
their faces becoming pale. A large number of people started for the exits, directed by men 
wearing well tailor suits. Priss saw a couple of them heading toward the lounge.
   
	Leon saw them too. "Time to play some hide and seek," he said, grabbing her by the arm. 
They stood up. "Behind the bar," he directed, gentle steering her in that direction.

   	The Bartender had already disappeared, and no one noticed them slipping behind the bar 
and crouched down. Priss looked at Leon. "What are you doing?" she hissed.
   
	"Hiding from Satoru's men." He pulled out his Ruger Redhawk. "You armed?"
   
	Priss pulled a large pistol from the small of her back. "Now what?" she whispered. "Go 
out in a blaze of glory?"

   	Leon shook his head, and held a finger to his lips. The noise outside the lounge grew 
louder, as the glass door was opened, then the noise muted as the door closed. There was an 
unpleasant aroma in the air that hadn't been there before the door had been opened. Several 
voices babbled at the unseen hardman.
   
	"Ladies and Gentlemen," said a polite male voice. "Someone has set off an explosive of 
some type in the men's restrooms. There is no immediate danger, but we ask that you clear the 
premises as quickly and orderly as possible. The Fire Department and Police are already on 
their way. If you will follow us, please."
   
	There were the sounds of chairs being pushed back, mixed with the rustling of clothing, 
glasses, and muted voices. The thud of an emergency door opening at the far end of the lounge 
was followed by the sounds of people leaving, then silence.
   
	Priss attempted to stand up, but Leon grabbed her shoulder, and shook his head. Priss 
glared at him, but the voice just above her head froze her. 

   	"Is that all of them?" the polite male voice asked. He was standing on the other side of 
the bar.
   
	"Yea," said another, rougher voice from a couple of meters away. "Now what?"
   
	"Don't know," The first guy replied. "Where's Satoru?"
   
	"Gone to supervise the eggheads upstairs. The last thing we need the cops to find is the 
lab."
   
	"Makes sense. What are we supposed to do?"
   
	"Tetsu didn't say. He just told me to make sure the lounge was cleared, and to wait."
   
	"What about a drink while we're waiting?"
   
	Priss gripped her pistol tighter, and looked at Leon. He was looking up at the bar 
counter. Any second now.... 
   
	"Are you kidding?" replied the second voice. "If Tetsu caught you drinking on duty, he'd 
skin you alive."
   
	The first man snorted. "As if Tetsu scares me. That -"
   
	A not so distant rolling explosion interrupted the hood's conversation. There was silence 
in the lounge for several seconds. Priss and Leon looked at each other, each wondering the same 
thing; What was going on?
   
	"That came from upstairs," the second man said quietly.

   	"What do you think it was?" asked the first man, his bravado gone.

   	"I don't know, but I don't like it." There was the sound of steel against leather, the 
sound of a pistol being drawn. "You'd better contact Tetsu and ask for new orders."
   
	"Right." There was silence for several seconds, then they heard the first man's voice 
again. "Lashjui here. The lounge is clear. Orders?" There was silence for several seconds, 
then Lashjui replied. "Right. Me and Itemji are on our way."
   
	"Well?" asked Itemji sharply.
   
	"Tetsu wants us to finish herding the customers out, then round up the others and secure 
the entrances down here. He thinks we've got an intruder on the upper levels."
   
	"Damn. Any idea who?"

   	Two smaller explosions from several floors above answered his question. "You don't think," 
said Itemji weakly.
   
	"If it is, we've got a shitload of trouble. Open the armory and pass out the assault 
rifles."
    
	"Right." The two mens' soft footfalls, followed by the opening of the lounge door signaled 
the departure of the two Yakuza members. Leon risked a quick look over the bar counter, then 
ducked back down.
   
	"It's clear," he said with a smile.
   
	"Now what?" asked Priss, relaxing her grip on her pistol.

   	"Now we go and find the drug lab Sato's hiding in this building."

   	"Are you crazy?" hissed Priss. "We're in a building crawling with trigger-happy Yakuza 
gangsters, with someone else tossing around explosives, and you want to go sightseeing?"
   
	Leon smiled at her. "A quick look around, I promise."
   
	"Five minutes ago, you told me it was going to take more then a possible drug lab to keep 
you from mine `glowing presence' tonight."
   
	"I think a possible attack by Nemesis qualifies."
   
	"You stuck up-"			
   
	"Hold that thought, I'll be right back." With that, Leon crawled out from behind the bar. 
Priss started after him, but Leon was back before she got far. "The main floor is crawling with 
Sato's men," he said in a whisper.

   	"Then how the hell are we going anywhere?"
   
	"Over there." Leon pointed to a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.
   
	"I don't know why the hell I went out with you."
   
	Leon gave her one of his `I know what I'm doing' smiles. "You wouldn't go out with me if 
I was boring."
   
	"I wouldn't go out with you if I thought you'd get me killed!"
   
	"Look, if I can pinpoint where the lab is, I can pass on the information onto the N-
Police, and let them handle the bust."
   
	"That's assuming that Nemesis leaves anything to the N-Police to find." A large, rolling 
explosion shook the building, knocking over bottles and glasses. A fine layer of dust settled 
over everything.
  
	Leon glanced up. "That's a strong possibility. So, we'd better hurry."
   
	"Wait a minute." Priss unbuttoned two of her shirt buttons, reached inside her shirt, and 
pressed something attached to her bra. She rebuttoned her shirt and glanced at Leon, who had 
taken a sudden interest in the wall behind him. "You can stop staring at the wall. I'm 
finished."
   
	Leon looked at her. "What did you just do?" the ADP Inspector asked. 
   
	"Called for help. If you think you're going to be dragging me into a probable war zone 
without backup, you're out of your mind!"

  	"Shall we go?"
   
	"You lead - that way everyone will be firing at you first."
   
	"Thanks," muttered Leon. "Anything else you want to say before we start?"
   
	"Yea," replied Priss. "Do you always do this type of thing on the first date?"
   
	Leon shrugged. "No. I usually wait until the second or third date to get my girlfriends 
involved in major shootouts. But since I know you have a pistol, and know how to use it, I 
figure why wait?"
   
	"I'm not your girlfriend!"
   
	"Details, details. Let's get moving before Nemesis completes his job."


 
Sylia's apartment
February 10, 2036
10:18pm

	Sylia glanced up from the book she was reading, and stared at the blinking light on the 
small box. She reached over and picked the box off the table. Priss's beacon. Is she in 
trouble again?
 									 
	She stood up, and hurried to the computer room. With a few pushed buttons, she brought 
the system up from standby mode to full operation. In seconds, she found where Priss's beacon 
was located. Hmm. . . . District eight. Corner of Meji and Twenty Fourth . . . Better check 
the N-police and ADP channels, and see if it's a Boomer sighting.
   
	In several more seconds, she'd accessed the communications channels, and listened to the 
police chatter.

   	//X-ray 43 Beta to Base,// said a male voice tinged with excitement.
   
	 //Base here,// replied a young, and slightly bored female voice. //What do you have to 
report?//
   
	//We're at the corner of Meji and Twenty Fourth, District 8 . . . We have a developing 
situation here . . . We have upwards of three hundred people in the process of fleeing the Fu-
Shui nightclub . . . And at least one of the upper floors of the nightclub's building is on fire 
. . . Requesting backup, ADP TAC units and the Fire Department, Stat . . . //
   
	//Say again, X-ray 43 Beta. What is happening there?// The voice no longer sounded bored.
   
	//I'm not sure. I'm now hearing sounds of automatic weapons and explosions coming from 
inside the building. I think we've got a major battle going on.//
   
	//X-ray 43 Beta. Can you enter the building?//
   
	//Negative, Base. X-ray 43 Alpha tried that a minute ago. The doors are guarded by suits 
with assault rifles, and they don't look too happy.//
   
	//Understood, X-ray 43 Beta. I am dispatching TAC teams Three, Five, and Eight to your 
location. Also, Indigo Four is also on route. ETA is nine minutes.//
   
	//I hope they hurry. . . .Base, did you have any K-11's in the area?//
   
	//Negative, X-ray 43 Beta, Why do you ask?//
   
	//Because I just saw what looked like three K-11s fly into view, and headed toward . . . 
.// There were the sounds of explosions, and machine gun fire. The voice of the police officer 
was back, panicky and shrill. //I'm under attack! Repeat, I'm under at-//
  
	A large explosion was followed by several seconds of static. Then an older, but no less 
shaky voice came over the channel. //Base, this is X-ray 43 Alpha. X-ray 43 Beta is down, and 
unit X-ray 43 is on fire. We have at least three, repeat, three Jager class Combat power suits 
in operation.// 
   
	//X-ray 43 Alpha, this is Base,// said a male voice, full of authority. //Can you confirm 
the presence of Jager power suits in your vicinity?//  
   
	There was silence for a second, then the officer on the scene replied angrily, //I spent 
three years around the damn things when I was in the Army, Base! They're Jager Hunter/Killers 
class power suits, loaded for bear, and don't give a rat's ass about who is in the way!//
   
	//Hold on X-ray 43 Alpha. ADP TAC teams are on the way.//
   
	//Screw the ADP! Call out the JSDF! This is military hardware we're dealing with, not 
rogue Boomers!//
   
	//Where are the Jagers now?//
   
	//They've headed for the roof of the building that's on fire. I can't see them anymore.//
   
	//Understand, X-ray 43 Alpha. Hang tight, help is on the way.//
   
	//I hope so. X-ray 43 Alpha out.//
   
	Sylia listened for several more seconds before she activated Nene and Linna's alert 
beacons. She got up and left the computer room. It was time for the Knight Sabers to enter the 
fight . . . 




Chapter 10


 
Fu-Shui Nightclub 
District 8
February 10, 2036
10:21pm

	The two thugs sent for the Gerlitch Rifle returned with it and several magazines worth 
of ammo. Satoru directed them to set the antiboomer weapon at the far end of the hall. As the 
thugs secured the weapon for use, there was the sound of an explosion from outside the building.
   
	Satoru snarled at one of his men, "Go find out what that was."
   
	The hood ducked into one of the offices, and was back five seconds later. "There's a N-
police car on fire twenty meters from the front door."
   
	"Any idea what happened?"
   
	"I don't know, sir. There were no other signs of battle."

   	At that moment, Tetsu approached Satoru. "Sir, the Red Wind Jager team is on the roof."
   
	Satoru scowled at him. "Now I know why the N-police car is burning," he hissed. "Can't 
those fools do anything right?"
  
	"I don't know, Sir."
   
	"Enough about them. What's the latest on the fires upstairs?"
   
	"Ochoa reports the fires are almost out. He said that they should be able to move through 
the fifth floor in another three minutes."
  
	"I want The Jagers to lead the advance down the stairs."
  
	"But the stairways are too tight for the suits to move through."
  
	Satoru looked away in anger, thought for a minute, then looked back at Tetsu. "In that 
case, I want the Jagers to come through the windows on the fourth floor. While they do that, I 
want Ochoa and his men to come down to the fourth by the stairs."
   
	Tetsu nodded. "You want to force Nemesis to come down the stairs to this floor?"  
   
	"Exactly," replied Satoru. "Post two men in the offices at the far end of this floor, and 
I want everyone else to get behind the Gerlitch, and stand by to fire on my orders."


  
	Nemesis double checked the charges he'd planted, grateful for the foresight to pack 
waterproof detonators. The water sprinklers had reduced the fires he'd started to smoldering 
piles of ashes. I should have disabled the water mains too, only the plans didn't show them! 
Oh well, let see how Sato makes a profit off these ashes.
  
	He straightened just as Sarge called him. "Trouble, Sir."
  
	"What?"				
  
	"The first of the Yak power suits just landed on the roof, They just took out a N-police 
car, and at lest one officer."
  
	"You're still holding your primary position, aren't you?"
  
	"Yes Sir, I am. And it's a good thing I did stay."
  
	"Why?"
  
	"I got a good reading on the Yak power suits as they came in over me. They're not ADP K-
11s - they're Jager Hunter/Killer Class, and they're fully armed."
  
	"Shit," breathed Nemesis. His suit's weapons would have a difficult time against the 
heavier armor of the Jagers, while the power suit's firepower would easily penetrate his armor. 
He might be able to take out one, but not any more then that. "How many are there on the roof?"
  
	"Three at the present time. But there's more on the way."
   
	Nemesis thought for several seconds, then made his decision. He couldn't fight three 
Jagers in this hardsuit. "I'm aborting the rest of the mission. The papers in the Nightclub's 
safe will have to wait. Stand by for retrieval."
   
	"Standing by. I'm also bringing the heavy hardsuit on-line, just in case you need the 
extra firepower and armor."
   
	"That's a good idea. Make sure the suit's carrying the maximum weapon load."
   
	"I always do. See you in a couple of minutes."
   
	"I hope so. Nemesis out." Nemesis stepped back from the circle of explosives he'd made 
on the floor. The circle was four feet in diameter, outlined with a thin, putty like substance. 
Four small boxes, each with a blinking light, had been placed at the cardinal points.
   
	Nemesis stepped back and pushed a button on his forearm control panel. The circle exploded 
with a solid thump that shook the building. Smoke and dust filled the air, the water having only 
a mild effect on the cloud.
   
	Nemesis reached the hole in two strides and dropped into the hole. As he did so, the 
windows exploded in, sending jagged pieces of glass through the air. He caught a glimpse of 
the stocky Jager power suits as they crashed through the windows before he disappeared through 
the hole. Perfect timing.

 	The fourth floor exploded as the timing explosives Nemesis had set went off. What win-
dows that hadn't been destroyed by the Jagers were blown out by the force of the explosion. 
The walls, floor, and ceiling, designed to survive an earthquake, cracked under the force. 
   
	A series of large fireballs rolled through the open space, incinerating nearly everything 
in their path. Most of the flame shot out the windows, showering the street below with fire. 
None of the support pillars survived the explosion, or the fireballs, intact.

   	The Jagers, designed to survive warfare, did a little better. Only one of the Jager suits 
was destroyed by the massive explosion, mostly because it was standing between two of the demo-
lition packs when they exploded. The twin shockwaves and following firestorm crushed the suit 
and incinerating the pilot inside. The other two suffered severe fire and concussion damage, but 
were still operational.
   
	By the time the pilots recovered, Nemesis was gone. 


     
	Both Priss and Leon crouched on the stairwell landing between the second and third floors, 
and felt the building rock under the massive explosions. Chunks of plaster fell on and around 
them, covering them with a fine white plaster. The sound of the explosion pounded their ear-
drums.
   
	They'd discovered the emergency stairwell after slipping inside the door marked EMPLOYEES 
ONLY. The first two flights of stairs were no problem, but now things had just gotten 
complicated.
   
	"What the hell was that?" asked Priss, wiping some of the plaster off her face.
   
	He looked up the stairwell, then back down to Priss, who was behind him. "Sounded like 
the entire fourth floor," he replied thoughtfully. 
   
	"Not funny, Leon."
   
	"Who's joking?"
   
	Priss glanced up the stairwell. "It sounded like a lot of high explosives going off all 
at once."
   
	"Nemesis," replied Leon grimly. "I forgot to mention that he has a `scorched earth' policy 
when it comes to his targets."
   
	"You forgot?" Priss glared at him. "We're in a building crawling with Yakuza, a hardsuited 
hitman, and you forget that one of the players in this deal likes blowing up people and places?"
   
	He looked at her. "Yes, I forgot. Is that a crime?"
   
	"Has anyone told you that you can be such a jackass at times?"
   
	"Daley tells me that every time I turn him down."	 
   
	"Like I said, Daley's too good for you."
   
	"True." He listened for a second. There were the sounds of several bursts of full auto 
fire, muffled but still discernible, coming from the floor above them. There was a thud of a 
grenade, then screams, then more automatic weapons firing. He looked at Priss. "Time to scrub 
the look-see, and get the hell out of here."
   
	"Now he gets the idea," muttered Priss.
   
	"I thought we could beat Nemesis to the drug labs," he said frankly. "But he beat us to 
it, and he's on his way down. I think we better get the hell out of the way."
   
	"Makes sense, but -"
   
	"Down!" shouted Leon, as his Redhawk snapped up and started to track something on the 
stairs below. Trusting Leon's judgment on this, Priss dropped as flat as she could on the floor 
of the landing. She heard someone curse from the stairs below, then the sound of a firearm bolt 
being pulled back.
 
	"ADP!" Leon shouted. "You're under arrest!"
  
	More curses, followed by movement, in the form of footsteps on the stairs. The roar of 
the magnum in the confined area of the stairwell was deafening.
   
	By the time Leon fired his second shot, Priss had turned onto her side, her own pistol 
pointed in the same direction as Leon's revolver was pointed. "I can't see anyone!"
   
	"They pulled back," replied Leon in a monotone.
   
	"Did you hit anyone?"
   
	"Yea. He's not getting up anytime soon."
   
	Priss moved to look over the stair's edge, but Leon's hand stopped her. "I wouldn't," 
he said slowly. "Both shots caught him in the head, and I'm using Boomer rounds."
  
	Priss grimaced. Using Boomer rounds on a human was akin to using a sledgehammer to swat 
a fly. "What do we do now?"
  
	"We can't go down."
  
	"Brilliant, Leon. Can you pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time too?"
   
	"So, we go up."
   
	"I take the brilliant statement back."
   
	"If you've got any ideas of your own, I'm all ears."
   
	"Sorry, left my ideas in my biker leathers."
   
	"Up it is." He started up the stairs, staying low and close to the far wall. Once he was 
halfway up the flight, Priss followed.


  
	Nemesis' controlled drop from the fourth to the third floor had destroyed a desk, desktop 
computer, and assorted knickknacks on that desk. Without pausing, he rolled clear of the 
wreckage and into a corner of the office.
   
	As he did so, the burst of fire from the exploding fourth floor poured out of the hole. 
Multiple fires were ignited as the fire roared across any flammable material. In a matter of 
heartbeats, most of the room was an inferno.
   
	As quickly as the fire burst appeared, it died out. But the damage had been done. There 
was still plenty of fire around the room, and getting worse. Nemesis rose to his feet, feeling 
the heat from the fire around him. He ran through the fire for the door, reaching the door in 
several strides.
   
	As he reached the door, it began to open. Without slowing, Nemesis crashed into the 
door. The door was not designed to hold up under the force of a hardsuited human, and it 
splintered. The two gangsters who had tried to open the door were sent flying into the wall 
opposite the door. Two rounds from his railgun put them down for good.
   
	Nemesis heard a shout to his left, and he turned in that direction. A small group of 
thugs was clustered around a large ugly looking weapon at the end of the hall. He saw Satoru, 
waving a pistol around, shouting out orders and pointing to Nemesis.
   
	A couple of the hoods managed to point their machine guns at him, and opened fire. Nemesis 
dodged to the right and pointed the grenade launcher at them. Most of the slugs burned through 
the air where he had been standing, though a couple of them struck glancing blows on his armor. 
   
	Before the rest of the gangsters could open fire, Nemesis triggered the grenade launcher. 
The flash\bang grenade exploded amongst them with incredible force in the confined area. Two 
of the hardmen died instantly, the proximity of the shockwave and bright flash being more then 
their bodies could stand. The others were rubbing their eyes or holding their hands over their 
ears in an attempt to regain the use of their senses. 
   
	Nemesis didn't give them the chance. The vibrosword slipped free of his sheath, and he 
charged at the stunned Yakuza members. Two of the hoods who tried to bring guns to bear on the 
charging vigilante fell with railgun spikes impaling them. As he approached, Nemesis saw Satoru 
stagger away from his men, and toward the door leading downstairs.
   
	By then, Nemesis was among the gangsters. He ducked a half-blinded Yakuza's wild swing, 
and ran the man through. As he pulled the vibrosword free, he turned to his right and kicked 
another Yakuza in the stomach. The man dropped dead, the blow instantly fatal.
   
	After several more seconds of close combat, none of the Yakuza in the hall was alive. 
Nemesis surveyed his surroundings, and noted the large ugly weapon looked undamaged. He reached 
down and pulled it out of the small pile of bodies. He examined it quickly and saw it was still 
functional.
   
	A Gerlitch antiboomer Rifle. I can use this. He reached down and picked up three 
magazines for the rifle and looked in the direction of the stairs. Your turn, Satoru. 


    
	Leon and Priss reached the top of the stairs just as the door leading to the third 
floor flew open. A figure staggered out, waving a pistol. He was looking back over his 
shoulder, and there was a look of sheer terror on his face. It took several seconds for 
Priss to recognize the man as the one who'd they met at the front door - Satoru.
   
	The Yakuza man fired his pistol several times at something behind him. There was the 
sound of metal striking metal, then a hollow voice, cold and still like the grave said, "You 
lose, Satoru."
   
	Both Leon and Priss were still crouched low on the stairs. Leon reached up, grabbed the 
gangster's ankle, and pulled. Satoru screamed as he fell, his pistol falling from his hand. As 
Satoru fell, a loud crack echoed through the stairwell, and the wall behind the Yakuza man 
exploded.
   
	The three of them covered themselves as the air became filled with chunks of cement and 
plaster. Priss looked up at Leon. "What the Hell was that?" she yelled, her ears ringing from 
the sound.
   
	"A Gerlitch antiboomer Rifle," replied Leon, pulling the semiconscious Satoru toward him.
   
	"Who the hell is using one of those to kill a human?"
   
	A shadow emerged from the doorway. Priss first thought was Boomer!  But once it 
stepped out in the hallway, Priss saw it was a hardsuit, dull black in color, carrying a huge 
rifle with the same ease as a solider carrying a normal rifle. There were scars and pits in 
the armor, but the stylized skull painted over the faceplate was unmarked.
 
	It looked down at the three of them, the muzzle of the still smoking rifle pointing over 
their heads. "Inspector McNichol," said a cold voice from the hardsuit. "Fancy meeting you 
here."
   
	Leon was looking up at the hardsuit, all the while crawling over Satoru to shield him. 
"You must be Nemesis."
   
	"I am," the hardsuited vigilante replied, his voice distorted by the electronics. "I 
suggest you stop protecting Satoru there. He isn't worth it."
   
	"So you can murder him?" Leon shouted. "Who made you Judge, Jury, and Executioner?"
   
	"His own actions convict him."
   
	Meanwhile, Satoru was trying to wriggle out from under Leon, and escape. Leon slammed an 
elbow into the back of the Yakuza man's head, and Satoru stopped struggling. 
   
	Leon looked up at Nemesis. "I'm placing him under arrest."
   
	"On what charge?"
   
	"Drug manufacturing."
 
	"There's nothing left of the drug lab, Inspector. And there's not going to be a lot 
left of this building when I'm through here. I suggest that you and your lady friend here 
clear out, now. Sato's deploying Jager class power suits, and that means trouble."
   
	Leon pointed his Redhawk at Nemesis. "I'm still placing Satoru under arrest, for no 
other reason then to protect him from you!" he yelled. "I know your rep, Nemesis. You don't 
draw down on police officers, even dirty ones. So back off, and leave Satoru to me!" 
   
	Priss didn't realize that she'd been holding her breath until Nemesis raised the long 
barrel of the Boomer rifle until it was well over their heads. "Very well, Inspector," Nemesis 
said. "I know he'll be out of jail before you finish the paperwork, but by all means, arrest 
him. I won't stop you."
   
	There were the sounds of footsteps from the stairs below, getting louder as they got 
closer. "Satoru's men, on the other hand," continued Nemesis, "might object to your course of 
action." 
   
	Leon cursed for several seconds. Priss turned and covered the lower stairs with her 
pistol. "Now what, Leon?" she said in a tight voice.
   
	"You take care of your prisoner, Inspector," said Nemesis. "I'll take care of the others." 
   
	The hardsuited vigilante launched himself over the three and touched down on the landing 
below. He turned, pointed the Gerlitch down the stairs, and fired two rounds. The effect of 
the massive rifle being fired in an enclosed place stunned Priss, Leon, and Satoru for several 
seconds. Before the rolling boom faded, Nemesis jumped down the stairs, and out of sight.
  
	Priss tried to listen for the sounds of shots, screams, and other noise of battle, but 
her ears were still ringing from the Gerlitch. She felt someone tap her on the shoulder, and 
she looked up at Leon. He motioned down the stairs with his free arm, the other holding a 
scared looking Satoru by the scruff of his neck. She nodded, and the three of them started 
down the stairs.




	

  	
Chapters 1 - 5 
  	
Chapters 11 - 15 
  	
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