The whip cut a long gouge in the boy's back. He winced as the leather made contact with his naked skin. It was not the first time he had been whipped; the scars across his back and the one on his forehead were proof enough of that. Tears formed at the corners of the boy's eyes and streamed down his cheeks.
"That'll teach you to sleep on the job, you fraggin little runt." The large factory attendant barked at the cowering boy on the floor.
The other workers dared not look at the factory supervisor or the little boy. They continued to work frantically placing the circuit boards and microchips into the artificial limbs coming off of the line. Their small nimble hands working quickly and skillfully along the small metal parts. The large troll supervisor scanned the room for any other workers slacking off.
The young boy scampered back to his post on the assembly line and went back into his routine of packing the limbs into the boxes. The troll grunted and continued to scan the room. There in the corner was some teenage kid sitting down against one of the support beams. The large troll smiled to himself. He walked over to the boy and stood directly in front of him.
"Wake up you drek head!" He screamed as he lifted his whip above the boy's head.
The boy's hands were like lightning. In less than a second he had two Ares Preds pressing into the flesh of the unsuspecting troll. The troll froze in his tracks and his eyes widen as they lowered to the two heavy pistols sticking in his chest. The young man stood up and the rags that had been concealing him fell to the sides. Underneath he wore a black long coat and black pants. His shirt was as dark as the night. He kept one pistol trained on the troll as he bent over and picked his hat out from under some other rags. He placed the wide brim black and silver lined hat on his head. He stared at the troll and motioned for him to step back and drop the whip. The troll quickly obeyed and stepped back about ten feet.
"So you like to hit people, hugh?" The boy spoke softly and sternly to the trembling troll.
The troll didn't answer; he just stared down the length of the gun's barrel pointing at his vulnerable body. A gun blast broke the silence and the troll doubled over in pain and grasped his now bleeding kneecap. He knelt down on the ground and applied pressure to his leg with his hands. His precious blood poured through his whitening knuckles and onto the metal floor.
"Stand up." The boy ordered.
The troll looked at him with pure fear.
"I said stand up." The boy repeated as he lowered the gun to the troll's head.
The troll nodded and raised himself up from the floor. He placed his weight onto his good leg. He kept his hand over the swelling kneecap. A tear began to form in the corner of his eye. The troll stared intently at his assailant. He couldn't be anymore than nineteen years old and yet he was at his mercy.
"I don't like it when people think that just because they are bigger and stronger, that they can push others around and torture them as you have done with these workers." The boy's voice was one of anger and compassion.
The troll just looked at him, dumbfounded. Out of an office door to the left another troll supervisor broke into the room. As he rounded some of the machinery he barked out in an angry voice.
"What the frag is going on. Slanick what the frag you doing, whip these workers before we start losing..."
The blast echoed throughout the factory. The second troll supervisor stood for a few seconds then collapsed onto his knees before falling face first into his own blood. The red fluid spilt from the round hole in his head directly above his upturned nose. The boy holstered his one smoking gun, and kept the other trained on the first troll. Sweat broke out across the troll's brow and slid down his face. The salt from his sweaty palm burned the wound in his knee as blood continued to trickle down his leg. He began to ponder his dimming future. The boy brought his gaze back to the workers.
"Are there anymore supervisors?"
They didn't speak they just nodded their heads up and down obediently. The boy walked over to the whip lying on the floor and picked it up. He stared at it for awhile, a memory rushed to his mind of a wooden plank. He shook his head and stepped over to the troll.
"It is time that these people have their vengeance." He spoke with conviction, anger, and hatred. He blasted the trolls other kneecap and watched as he collapsed on the ground. Tears began to spew from the troll's eyes. He mumbled and pleaded for his life. The boy just walked over to the workers and handed one the whip.
"Your fate is in their hands know." He spoke to the troll and workers at the same time.
He holstered his Pred and started to walk out of the factory into the night. Behind him the sound of shuffling feet closing in on the wounded troll ensured his fate. As the boy reached the door, he heard the snap of the whip and the scream of the troll piercing the night's silence. In a few minutes all was silent and the boy disappeared into the cold darkness.
Chapter 2
Flash bulbs went off all around the abandoned factory. The Star had been at the scene for about thirty minutes and the investigative team was busy taking pictures. A black Ford Americar pulled up and a tall man, wearing a gray suit and red tie under a brown long coat, stepped from the driver's side. He flashed a badge to one of the Star and walked over to the investigative team.
"Hey Rich, what have we got here?" He was speaking to his partner who was feverishly writing notes in his little notepad.
"Hey boss, it's a messy one. We have two bodies, both trolls. One was found near that office door, a single shot to the head dropped him quick and cold. The other one was found in this open area over here. He was shot twice, once in each kneecap and then it looks like he was bludgeoned and whipped to death. I found one of the shell casings, looks like Pred ammo."
"Any clue on who these guys were?"
"We think they were the supervisors of this factory, but here's the kicker, they were manufacturing black market cyberware. Everything from eyes to legs. Nothing fancy, but sellable. This is what we know: Some lady living in a nearby tenement said she was awakened by a crowd of happy people making noise outside. When she went to the window she saw a bunch of what she described as "homeless people" coming out of this abandoned factory. Best we can tell is that they were workers. Maybe they rioted; maybe they were slaves or something. What do you think Josh?"
Josh Crosby looked over the abandoned warehouse. Sheets of scrap metal filled the holes in the windows and ceiling. Water dripped down a rusted metal grating and onto the floor. Its rhythmic dripping added a sense of isolation and darkness to the empty building. The building was secluded and would have made a perfect spot for manufacturing illegal cyberware.
"I don't know Rich. Lets go see what the lab boys have to say about our two victims. Maybe they can shed some light on what happened and why we have two dead trolls with holes in 'em."
He began to walk out of the factory when a young Asian boy, with a scar on his forehead, stepped in front of him. Crosby stopped in his tracks.
"I can help you mister." He spoke softly to the tall detective.
"Oh really sport, what do you know about what happened here?"
"I worked here with some other people like me. The trolls they beat us and made us work on the fake legs and stuff. Then the man in the black clothing and black hat came and he shot the trolls and freed us."
The detective looked thoughtfully at this young boy. He couldn't be any more than eight years old. He looked starved and tired.
"I'll tell you what buddy, how about you come with me and I'll take you somewhere to get you some food. Do you like ice cream?"
The boy just nodded as his eyes lit up.
"Then on the ride over you can tell me the whole story. Not bad, huh?"
"No Sir, thank you."
"Now you stay right here and I'll be right back."
Crosby walked over to the other officer still jotting down notes.
"Hey Rich, I have a little witness that I'm taking to get some ice cream, want to join us?"
Rich looked at his boss then over at the little kid standing in the warehouse doorway. He smiled.
"I could always go for some ice cream, boss."
Chapter 3
Three knocks, wait five seconds then a single knock. The boy stood on the third floor of a tenement in the south side of Seattle. The building was old and worn down, but still livable.
The door swung open and a young elven girl stood in the doorway.
"Hey Greg, good to see you. What have you got for me today?"
The boy walked in the door and then closed it behind him.
"Hello Phyllis, I have some nice cyberware for you. Interested?"
"Always." She responded with a wry smile.
"Why don't you take off your coat and stay awhile. I'll look over the cyberware and tell you how much I can give you for it." She motioned to the coat rack by the door, then walked over and turned on a desk lamp.
The light illuminated the room and Greg could make out the array of bookshelves littered with electronics and the like. He pulled a cyber eye from his jacket pocket and handed it over to Phyllis. He then took off his coat and hat and placed them on the rack. Greg removed his armored jacket and hung it up with his coat. Phyllis was busy analyzing the cyber-eye at her desk. She was looking intently through a magnifying lens at the cyber-eye turning it around in her hands.
"This only medium quality stuff. I can probably only get four thousand for it. Tell ya what, I'll give you eighteen hundred and ten clips of Pred ammo. How does that sound?"
"How about twelve clips?"
"Hmm, you drive a hard bargain, but okay, on one condition."
"Name it Phil."
"You owe me dinner sometime, and none of that stuffer shack stuff, I'm talking someplace downtown." She smiled defiantly at him.
"Fine, I'll take you out to dinner sometime. After my next job, we'll go to Mare Senji's."
"Good." She walked over to one of the bookshelves, and pulled on a book titled: Contemporary Weapons. As she did part of the shelf slid open to reveal a collection of different types of ammo. She picked out 12 clips of Pred ammo, and placed them into a plastic bag. She closed the shelves and took out a few certified credsticks from the desk drawer and put them in the bag with the ammo. She handed Greg the bag and went back to the seat behind her desk. She went back to studying the cyber-eye. Greg packed the bag into his coat and started to put the armored vest on.
"Ugh, Greg, I found something on the cyber-eye you should see." Phyllis' face went a bit pale as she looked up at Greg.
"What is it?" He asked as he lifted his coat on and walked over to the desk. Phyllis pointed to the magnifying glass with the eye underneath it. Greg looked at the cyber-eye. Engraved on one of the wires was a single Japanese character he could not read.
"What does it mean?"
"Greg that is the sign for the Yakuza. Where did you get this eye?"
"From an illegal factory near the docks. They were using slave labor so I intervened, killed one supervisor and let the slaves kill the second."
"Greg you have to get out of town, you have to hide. The Yakuza are one of the largest organized crime syndicates in the world. They have men everywhere, not just Japan. They will hunt you down and kill you. Here I'll give you free passage to California. The fake id's won't take me long to fabricate. Give me about four hours, just stay here, you'll be safe."
"Phyllis, I can't stay here, you know that, besides I would only be making trouble for you. I'll be fine, it's a big city, they won't be able to find me. There was no Johnson on that last run anyway, I found out about it through word of mouth and rumors. They can't connect it to me, and besides I'm always watching my back." With that he turned toward the door, picked up his hat, nodded to Phyllis and walked out the door.
"Be careful." She called, as the door closed behind him.
"Just be careful."
Chapter 4
Josh Crosby hated this part of the job but when you were in the line of work he was there was not much you could do about it. Maybe it wasn't the bodies, maybe it was the fact that the coroners never seemed to mind, and in fact almost seemed to enjoy their jobs. He looked up at his partner standing across the table.
Rich swallowed hard as the coroner pulled back the sheet from one of the two dead trolls. Josh had left the small Asian boy, whose name he discovered was Lal, out in the lobby with some of the nurses to entertain him. Crosby wanted to take a closer look at the victims and see if what the boy had told him was true. The first body that they inspected was the one with the two holes in his knees. The troll looked badly beaten. He was bruised and had long slashes all over his chest, face, and back.
"What are those slashes from?" asked a now collected, Rich.
"They look like something from a leather whip or maybe a metal wire of sorts." Answered the coroner.
"Well, Rich it looks like Lal's story pans out. Now we have to look for this mysterious man in black. Hey Frank can you remove one of the bullets so we can take it to the lab?"
"Sure."
The coroner took a pair of forceps and reached into the hole in the one troll's knee and after some time of searching and trying to grasp the bullet, he removed it and placed it in a plastic bag. He handed the bullet to Crosby.
"Thanks Frank, let me know if you find anything else out of the ordinary. You have my cell phone number."
"Yeah, I have it on file. I'll do a more thorough search now and look over all of the body and let you know what I find. Talk to you later."
With that, Crosby and Rich left the coroner's examination room and caught up with Lal who was busy talking to an attractive nurse.
"Excuse me miss. Thanks for watching our little buddy here."
"He was no problem at all."
"Well Lal, it looks like you get to come with us to the lab and take a look at some other stuff. How does that sound?"
"I was hoping I could stay here with Sandy."
"It's no trouble at all. I get off of work soon and he's no trouble. I don't live far from the Star station; if you don't mind he could come and stay the night with me. It has to be better than staying at a Star station all night."
"Thank you very much Ms... I didn't catch your name."
"Sandy Ulrich, I'm a resident nurse."
"That is most kind of you Ms. Ulrich. Here, take my card, I'll be at the station early tomorrow morning. If you would like, just give me a ring and I'll come pick him up for you. Thanks again for doing this."
"Like I said he's no trouble and besides Pete, my dog, loves company."
Crosby thanked her again and motioned for Rich to follow him. They loaded into the car and headed toward the station and to the lab to get the bullet tested. When they arrived at the lab there were numerous lab technicians analyzing objects either under magnifying glasses or microscopes. Others were matching up bullet fragments and some were looking over a sample of the illegal cyberware from the factory. Crosby walked up to one such technician that was staring intently at one of the cybereyes.
"Hey Judy, what have you found for me?"
"Hey Josh, well so far we've found just one marking on all of the wires in the cyberware. Those wires that were exposed anyway. It appears to be some Japanese symbol. I have Jake cross referencing it on the computers in the other room. He's looking for possible matches. Other than that, we can tell that this is medium quality stuff, not great but effective and would easily go for a descent price on the streets. This eye could easily bring in twenty-five hundred creds and maybe as much as four thousand."
"Well, here have a look at this, it's from one of the two victims."
Crosby pulled out the small plastic bag containing the bullet and handed it to Judy.
"It looks like a Pred round. I'll make sure."
She put it under the magnifying lens and turned it around studying it.
"Yeah it looks like a common Pred round. Do you have the casing?"
Rich pulled out a separate bag from his coat.
"Sorry, forgot I had this."
Judy took it and examined it under the lens.
"That's strange."
"What is?"
"Usually around the back of the casing there is a single letter followed by a four number combination to represent the manufacturer and a serial number. This one doesn't have one. That means it was probably made on the street. You're dealing with someone who has some descent connections. Sorry, I can't trace this bullet for you guys."
"Great, now all we have is some eyewitness that only remembers the description of the character but no name. Well lets see what your buddy Jake has found on the Japanese symbol."
Crosby walked over to the computer room and let himself in. Inside was a long table with about four different monitors and a single computer humming in the corner. Jake was sitting in a rotating chair staring at a computer screen.
"Hi, Jake is it?" asked Crosby.
"Yep, that's me, you must be the detective. I bet you want to know what the symbol on the wires was."
"You nailed it, what have you got for me?"
"It ain't good news. The symbol is that of the Yakuza. They're the number one organized crime association in the world."
"Thanks Jake, keep up the good work."
Crosby walked back into the lab.
"Rich, I think this case is pretty much closed."
"How so boss, we still have two stiffs and some guy who shot him."
"I have a feeling that he is not going to last long with the enemies that he has made."
Chapter 5
The desk trembled as the large solid fist came crashing down on it.
"How can this have happened. I leave two perfectly competent and large goons in charge of a group of slaves and they end up in body bags and I lose one of my most productive factories. What kind of fragger does this to the Yakuza and me, Leng Fun! I want his head on a plate! I own this town's black market cyberware and now I have only two factories left because of some fragging runner! Wen, get two of your boys and find out who did this to my business and then kill him. Make it messy and don't come back until it's done. I will try to talk to Mr. Lom and see what he wants done. Now go!"
"Yes Mr. Fun." Wen snapped and two of his lackeys followed him out the door and into the busy Seattle night.
"Ms. Chang, get Mr. Lom on the phone for me."
"Right away sir." The obedient secretary flew from the room and made the call.
Leng Fun peered out over the city from his high rise office building. He knew that Mr. Lom would not be pleased and that somewhere out in that vast Seattle darkness was the one person who would bring him closer to death than he had ever been before. Ms. Chang came back into the office.
"Mr. Lom is on line two sir."
"Thank you Ms. Chang, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to talk to him in private."
She nodded and quickly exited the room. Fun lifted the phone to his ear, hesitated, and then pushed the number two button.
"Mr. Lom, I'm sorry to bother you, I know that you are a busy man."
"What is wrong Mr. Fun?" Came the sharp reply.
"One of our cyberware factories was shutdown last night. Someone came in, killed the two supervisors and freed the workers. I have some of my boys out trying to find information on who did it. It should be only a matter of time. I thought that you should know and I wanted to tell you."
"Mr. Fun, you disappoint me. It is apparent that you are not capable of successfully running my cyberware business, but I am a fair man and I will give you three days to find and dispose of this perpetrator or I will have you replaced. Also, make certain this does not happen again. Add more security to your other factories and push the workers harder. If production slows down too much I will be very angry. We are done now Mr. Fun. Remember, you have three days, use them wisely."
"Yes sir, Mr. Lom, I will make sure it is taken care of."
"You'd better. The Yakuza do not accept failures."
With that Mr. Lom hung up. Fun held the phone in his hand for a long time and then slowly he put it down on the holder. He put his hands over his face and took in a deep breath.
Chapter 6
The dwarf was cocky and he knew he had these investigators in his hands. They came looking for information that knew about the slayings at the factory. Crosby was starting to lose patience. He had been standing in the rain in this alley for twenty minutes trying to bribe information from this dwarven runner. Rich was smoking a cigarette and trying to stay dry.
"Okay, I'll tell you what you want to know for four hundred creds. Think you can handle that?"
"Fine, here's four hundred creds, now what do you know about the factory killings and Yakuza?"
Crosby handed the dwarf a certified cred stick and started to listen intently to the dwarf.
"Okay here's the deal, there's this guy, I don't know his real name, he calls himself the Equalizer. He hates it when big people pick on the little guy. Some kind of vigilante, he found out about the slave labor that was going down in the factory so he goes to check it out and wammo. Now he has you and the Yakuza after him."
"Where can I find this Equalizer?"
"I don't know, he is real careful and stealthy, he's young too, only twenty or something like that. He's a good shot though, and quite the survivor from what I hear."
"Anything else you can tell me like maybe some of his contacts?"
"Not for four hundred creds, but for six hundred more I can hook you up with his main contact and friend."
"Listen you little drek, this..." Rich blurted out.
"Relax Rich, I got this covered. Now listen Puck, yeah that's right I know all about you. You pulled that armored truck job last month. Word is you lost all that money gambling illegally. Now here's the deal, you tell me what I want to know and I let you go, don't and I hall your butt over to the Star and you end up jailbait. Got it?"
"Yeah, I hear ya." Her name is Phyllis, Phyllis Walker, she's a tech-head. She's lives over on Wright and Fourth. The Equalizer goes over there a lot to sell stuff and get supplies. Third floor, room three zero five. Knock three times, wait five seconds then knock once. We even."
"Thank you Puck, now keep out of trouble."
Crosby and Rich walked back to their car and drove to Fourth and Wright. It was a slow drive in the rain, but they were there before it got too late. They went up the stairs to the third floor and followed Puck's instructions at the door of room three zero five. An attractive elven girl answered the door.
"What can I do for you gentlemen?"
"Investigators Ms. Walker, we need to ask you about the Equalizer."
"I don't know who you're talking about, sorry, I'm very busy I must go."
"Puck says you know him well and that you buy stuff from him a lot. Now I can make a few calls and you can be searched and hauled off to jail. You don't want that do you?"
She unhinged the chain on the door and let the detectives in.
"Thank you Ms. Walker. My name is Josh Crosby and this is Rich Muller. We have reason to believe that your friend, the Equalizer is in big trouble with the Yakuza and we want him alive."
"His name is Greg, I never heard his last name. He comes in here to sell stuff and get supplies. He's a young kid about twenty or twenty-one. About my age, you know, we are good friends, he understands me. He came in the other day with some cyberware from that factory I heard about on the news, I'm guessing, and I bought it from him and he purchased some Pred ammo. That's when I discovered the Yakuza symbol on the wire. I think he's in trouble, but I don't want anything happening to him."
"We don't either Ms. Walker, but we need to know where he is before we can protect him."
"I'm not sure where he is, but I do know that there are rumors that two more factories like that one exist in the city and are run by the Yakuza, he may be staking them out or collecting information. He is slippery and very smart, he won't be easy to find, not for you or the Yakuza."
"Lets hope we find him before the Yakuza. Thank you Ms. Walker. We'll be in touch."
Crosby and Muller walked out into the rain and back into their car.
"This is going to be a long night."
"I hear ya boss."
Chapter 7
Greg walked quickly through the Seattle streets as the rain poured down on top of him. Beads of water rolled off of his hat and flew off in the wind. He always had the taxi drop him off about five blocks from where he actually lived. Helped him keep in shape and allowed him to walk a different way home every night so as to dissuade people from finding where he lived. He had been downtown looking for more information about the Yakuza and their illegal cyberware factories. Greg had talked to Burgis, a dwarven rigger that owed him a favor. Burgis had discovered that there were, in fact, two more factories like the one Greg had put out of commission. All of them used slave labor and all made cyberware parts. Burgis noted that they were much more heavily guarded than the last and that this change had been made recently.
Greg continued his walk. Tucked away under his coat were a series of photos that Burgis had taken with one of his gizmos. The pictures were all Greg needed to make an assault possible.
Greg passed a parked car and glanced into the side view mirror. The man behind him had been following him since he left the taxi. Greg thought to himself:
"The Yakuza don't wait for long, that's for sure."
He continued to walk, not wanting to alert his "shadow" that he was aware of the game being played. Greg passed another car and paused to check the mirror and fix his coat and hat. His follower stopped. Greg caught the sight of a Samurai sword being drawn from his "shadow's" back. He continued walking and shifted his hands onto his holstered Preds. The footsteps behind him quickened. Greg pushed down on the holstered Preds, causing them to point directly behind him and pulled the triggers. The bullets tore through his long coat and into the Street Samurai, knocking him to the ground. The clanging sound of the samurai sword hitting the pavement echoed through the rain. Greg turned around slowly, unholstered his Preds and walked over to the mass, now writhing on the sidewalk. The bullets had hit their mark. Blood mixed with the rainwater and flowed across the sidewalk and down the sewer drain.
"Who sent you?" inquired Greg, now standing over the body of the Street Samurai.
The Samurai spit a mixture of saliva and blood onto Greg's shoes. Greg just stared down at the slowly dying mass. He picked up the katana and pressed the tip lightly into the Samurai's chest.
"Now, tell me who sent you."
"Go to hell." Was the nearly inaudible reply of the samurai.
"Live by the sword..."
Greg pressed the katana full force into the Samurai's chest. The body twitched and let out a gut wrenching scream that was lost in a rumble of thunder.
"Die by the sword."
Greg left the body to rot on the cold streets. He fixed his hat, checked the holes in his coat and continued walking home. His mind began to ponder.
"This must have been the work of the Yakuza, but how had they found me so quickly? I had only told Phyllis and..."
Greg paused on the sidewalk; rage began to consume him. He clenched his fists.
"Puck."
Chapter 8
The small dwarven body made a small cracking sound as it smashed into the brick wall of the alley building. Greg lifted him up again and violently shook him awake. The dwarf regained consciousness; blood flowed from his nose.
"Normally, I would be defending those oppressed by larger more powerful people, but today I have this urge to gut you like a fish."
He dropped the motionless dwarf onto the alley ground. Puck rolled over onto his back and managed to drag his beaten body to some boxes and orientated himself into a sitting position.
"Well Puck, I hope they paid you well, you worthless sack of drek. So how much was it, how much for you to rat on me."
"I, I , I don't kn-know what you're talking ab-about."
"How much to sell off my life?!"
Greg leaned over and picked Puck up.
"How much?"
"Six, six thousand creds. The Yakuza paid me six thousand creds. Even you would have taken the deal."
Greg dropped puck back onto the ground.
"Who sent you, I want names and places to meet them. I want details or I'll litter this alley with your brains. Now spill it."
"Fun, Leng Fun, he has an office downtown at McHenry and Tate street. Its called Fun industries, its an import exporting service. They deal in imports and exports from the orient and the like. Fun is the guy in charge, he works for the Yakuza and is ahead of the illegal cyberware factories. He uses the import, export agency as a means by which to transport the finished goods."
"Thank you Puck, I hope you use your six thousand creds wisely, maybe you can buy yourself a new cyberhand."
"A cyberhand, why would..."
The shot from the Pred blew a hole clean through the dwarf's hand. Puck screamed and grasped his injured limb. He tore off a piece of his shirt and wrapped his hand in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. Sweat ran down his brow and his breathing increased to a fever pitch. Greg holstered his Pred started walking away.
"Next time it will be something more vital."
Greg hailed a taxi and stepped into the first one that arrived.
"Fun industries please."
The driver nodded, pulled away from the curb and headed downtown.
Chapter 9
"It's okay everyone, just head on back into the building. It was just a false alarm; there is no fire. Just go ahead back to your work." The security guard was reassuring the confused crowd now gathered outside of Fun industries.
Leng Fun walked over to the security guard directing people back into the building.
"What happened?"
"Nothing major, Mr. Fun. There was apparently some glitch and the fire alarm went off. We've checked the building, there was no sign of a fire, and the sprinklers never went off."
"Fine, as long as everyone is okay."
Fun walked back to office and over to the mini bar in the corner. He pulled out a bottle of saki and poured himself a glass. He sipped it slowly.
"You know drinking too much can kill you." A voice came from within the room.
Fun scanned the room.
"Who said that? Where are you?"
The chair behind Fun's desk spun around slowly. Greg sat there, his Ares Pred pointed at Fun's chest.
"So you're the great Equalizer that everyone is talking about." Fun said calmly as he sipped his saki.
"You seem awfully calm for someone who has a gun pointed at him."
"That's because I know that my bodyguard is probably watching us on the camera right now and before you know it you'll be surrounded and will have nothing to do but give up. Coming to the dragon's cave was a poor choice my boy."
"Oh, your bodyguard, you mean him." Greg pointed to the corner of the room behind the door. A large Asian man was slumped over on the floor.
Fun's eyes went wide as the realization of the situation began to sink in.
"Have a seat Mr. Fun, we need to talk." Greg motioned with his gun toward the chair in front of him.
Fun nodded and took a seat.
"What do you want?"
"Information, Mr. Fun."
Greg was holding some papers in his free hand.
"I want to know who Mr. Lom is and what you are doing for him."
"I work for him, he is ahead of the Yakuza in Seattle, everyone knows that."
"I'm sorry, I'm not up to date on the Yakuza. So you make black market, medium grade cyberware for Mr. Lom and in return are paid handsomely. I'm also going to assume that Mr. Lom was not happy to hear that one of his factories was shut down, was he?"
"Is it money you want, because I have more than you can imagine. Will twenty five thousand credits make you leave?"
"It's not money I want Mr. Fun, its revenge."
"Revenge for what? I have done nothing to you."
"True, but you have enslaved hundreds of Asian workers. You beat them into submission and work them to death and when you are finished you dispose of them like machines. I'm here to make sure this doesn't continue."
Greg stood up from the chair and walked around behind Fun's chair. As he did he took out a silencer and slowly screwed it on to his Pred.
"Fine, I'll stop the slave labor. I'll pay my workers better and they'll be treated with more kindness. What else do you want from me?" Fun's voice cracked as sweat began to soak his shirt and collar.
"Stand up Mr. Fun."
He stood up and turned toward Greg. When his eyes caught sight of the silencer he swallowed hard. Greg pressed the muzzle of the weapon to Fun's head as Fun fell down to his knees. He began to plead; his hands came together in a prayer. The hammer went back and came down. Fun screamed, and there was no shot. Fun's eyes were closed tightly, when he opened them he still stared down the barrel of the gun.
"Now Mr. Fun, you know what it is like to be one of your workers, to be at the mercy of someone stronger and more powerful."
Fun grit his teeth, leaned toward his prey and threw his body into Greg's. The two of them went sailing to the ground. Fun yanked Greg to his feet and held him up against the wall. The pistol went flying and landed with a thud on the floor. Greg smashed his hands into Fun's neck causing Fun to drop him to the floor. Greg was dazed and had a bump on the back of his head. Fun regained his balance and ran to the fallen Pred. Greg leapt at fun's feet and tackled him before he could reach the pistol. Fun's arm stretched as far as it could but fell short of the Pred by mere inches. Greg reached down and pulled his other Pred free from its holster and brought it to bear on Fun. Fun kicked his feet wildly and managed to strike the pistol causing it to fire and shattering the large glass window. He kicked again and the pistol soared threw the air and struck the far wall. Another kick knocked Greg loose and Fun leapt to his feet at the same time Greg did. Fun dove for the pistol near his hand and Greg ran toward the other now resting in shattered glass. Greg reached the pistol and turned in time to see Fun pull the trigger.
The shot struck Greg in the chest and knocked him to the ground. Fun smiled to himself and walked over to the motionless body on the floor. He stood over the boy, the gun at his side. Greg's eyes were closed but his chest rose up and down slowly.
"Never send a boy to do a man's job." Fun put the gun to Greg's head.
"It's been a pleasure you worthless drek."
Greg's hand came out of nowhere and struck the pistol away from his head, the shot fired into the ground. His other hand came around and struck Fun in the face with a shard of glass. Fun stumbled back from the attack and attempted to claw the glass from his cheek. Greg leapt to his feet and grabbed fun's neck from behind with one hand. Blood dripped down Fun's face and neck soaking Greg's hand in the warm liquid. He spun Fun around and punched him in the face. Fun's nose began to bleed and he began to stumble backward.
"Goodbye Mr. Fun."
With that Greg kicked Fun square in the chest. Fun fell backward through the shattered window and onto the pavement below. Shards of glass followed his descent. The loud thud of his dead body was followed by light pings from the shattered glass.
Greg picked up his pistols, a handful of papers, his hat, and rushed out the office door.
"No doubt security will be here soon, better take the stairs." He thought to himself as he burst into the stairwell and down the stairs. He pulled the fire alarm on the second floor and continued his descent. When he reached the first floor he sneaked out the emergency exit with a group of workers and stole away into the night.
Chapter 10
The light from the computer screen illuminated detective Crosby's face. He scanned the old news data sets.
"What are you looking for boss?"
"The name Greg Marone sounded awfully familiar, so I'm cross checking it with old data files. Greg Marone has a bit of a record. I remember this kid, it was one of my first cases. I'd say it was about twelve years ago. A young kid called the cops to report that his mother had been beaten by his dad and was lying on the floor. When we arrived the kid was standing there over his mother with a pistol in his hand. We found the father in his chair with a hole in his head. It was not a pretty site."
"So what happened then?"
"He was sent to a special boys orphanage for troubled kids. Greg had some bad blood with the "warden" and one of the local bullies. He broke out and killed the warden in the process. Now he roams the street as a runner. He calls himself The Equalizer and works mostly for those less strong and fortunate. That's why he attacked the Yakuza's cyberware plant. They were using slave labor and apparently he didn't like that. Kind of hard to blame him, but boy does he make poor enemies."
"What are we going to do, let the Yakuza take care of him or get him ourselves?"
"I think we better take care of him first, he has already killed two guards and I can guarantee that he has something to do with Leng Fun getting thrown from his office window. I received some info from one of my sources that Fun worked for the Yakuza. I think it would be best to find Greg first before the Yakuza do or we'll just have another dead body on our hands. Now we should start looking for other possible targets he might hit, other factories with slave labor and the like. Rich can you go to the elven girl's house and see if she knows anything else about where we can find Greg."
"Will do, I'm sure he's bound to show up sooner or later, should I take him in if he does show up?"
"Just don't do anything that will get you killed."
"Not a problem. I'll go over there right now. I'll check in around eight o'clock."
"Alright, thanks Rich, and I'll talk to you later."
Rich walked out of his office and headed toward Phyllis' house on the south side of Seattle. Crosby returned to his archives.
Marone had quite a history and it was a violent one. He continued to read all of the articles that talked of some vigilante that either took down some oppressing factory or saved someone from being robbed on the street. Crosby smiled as he read one article in which Marone had stopped a thief who had robbed a liquor store owned by an old man. He had broken each of the thief's fingers one at a time and left him crippled. Crosby stopped smiling, Marone was out for the little guy but he was brutal and it showed.
The phone next to Crosby rang.
"Hello, Detective Crosby speaking, what can I do for you?"
"Good to hear from you Detective."
"May I ask who this is?"
"It's Greg, I hear that you have been looking for me. What can I do for you?"
Crosby's train of thought stopped for a second. Was this some kind of joke? He shook his head to regain his concentration.
"Mr. Marone, you have been giving this agency quite a lot of work to do these last couple of days. Would you mind telling me the next time you decide to mess with the Yakuza?"
"I didn't enjoy their practices, I was merely doing my job."
"Well, so are we, and my job is to keep the peace. Now why don't you lay low and let us here at the Star take care of the Yakuza. No point in me having to put your body in a bag. So what do you say?"
"The Yakuza have two more factories that I plan on liberating, then I'll stop. I'll keep you informed."
"Why not tell me where these factories are. Then we can go in and bust them."
"Sorry detective, I want revenge, you want to make arrests. We work on different plains."
"I will have to arrest you if I find you Greg, you do realize this."
"Hopefully detective this will all be over before you and I ever meet. Then we can go our separate ways."
"Tell me one thing then, how did you know I have been on your case and how did you get my number."
"Lets just say, a little dwarf told me. Good night Detective."
"Be careful Marone."
"I always am."
Chapter 11
Rich walked up to the apartment and knocked on the door. There was no answer. Then he remembered the secret knock. Three knocks wait five seconds then a single knock. There was a pause, some rustling, and then all hell broke loose. The blast ripped through the door and blew Rich up against the hall wall. He stumbled to his feet. His hands were stained with his own blood. Rich drew his pistol and stared through the dust into the partially lit room. He raised his pistol to eye level and attempted to get some bearing. His free hand grasped at his belly now bleeding more rapidly. The second blast tore him open and plastered him against the hallway wall. He slid down the wall leaving a streak of crimson behind him. Rich grabbed his radio and using his last breath, radioed Officer Rich Muller down, requesting assistance. He breathed his last breath slowly and harshly trying to suffuse as much life from it as he could.
"Did we get him?" The question came from an Asian looking orc with a shotgun still smoking in his one hand.
Another orc, much like the other one walked over to the dying man and knelt down to look closer.
"Drek, man, we shot a Star. Well he would have been trouble anyway. Let's get this elf back to Mr. Lom at the warehouse and see what he wants us to do."
"Should we take the Star?"
"I don't want any extra baggage, let's leave him."
"You, come here." He pointed to Phyllis who had her arms bound behind her and a gag in her mouth. She walked over to the orc's side. She glanced at the dead officer on the ground. She recognized him instantly as one of the detectives that had asked about Greg a couple of days ago. Tears began to form in her eyes and dripped down her cheek. Her eyes were bloodshot and there was a bruise against her cheek.
"Let's go, Mr. Lom is waiting." One of the orcs grabbed Phyllis and the other checked the hallway for anyone else that might be around to surprise them.
They pushed Phyllis into a waiting van down on the street and drove off. Rain began to fall and streak down the windows. Phyllis looked outside the back windows of the van. Tears continued to streak down her face.
Chapter 12
The flashing lights from the Star vehicles bounced off the dark brick and were enveloped by the dark alley. Greg stood in the shadow of the alley and listened to the news about the information at hand. He had been on his way to Phyllis' after talking to Detective Crosby when he noticed the flashing lights ahead of him. Detective Crosby appeared shaken and angry. A pair of paramedics wheeled a gurney out from the tenement. A white sheet was draped over what looked like a body. Greg's eyes went limp, and his forehead drooped.
"Phyllis, no." He whispered quietly to himself.
The gurney was wheeled over to the detective. He pulled back part of the sheet and revealed his former partner's body. He unclipped Rich's badge from the dead man's coat and placed it in his own pocket. He then waved the paramedics onward. A Star officer walked over to the detective and Greg leaned in to hear what they were saying.
"What happened Becky?" The Detective asked another Star officer who was writing out a report. She looked up from what she was writing.
"It looks like Rich just kind of walked into it unknowingly. We found a letter addressed to The Equalizer. It reads: If you want to have your elven friend returned in one piece, meet me at my warehouse at the South Morton Docks at 8 o'clock Saturday night. Come alone or the girl will be killed and dumped into the Seattle Harbor. It's signed with a single Japanese character." She handed the letter to the detective.
"It's the Yakuza, Marone is going to get himself and Phyllis killed." He tucked the paper into his coat.
"I'm going to take a look around some more Becky. Why don't you go on back to the office and file the report." He waved Becky on her way. Crosby walked over to the alley where Marone was hiding. He leaned against the brick wall facing the cruisers and took out the ransom note. He held it in the air and just out to his side around the corner of the building.
"You may need this." He said quietly.
Marone took the paper from Crosby's hand.
"Your too good, you know that detective."
"Listen Marone, I want this to stop and I want to be there when it happens. Do you have a plan or are you going to blast your way through this one and get Phyllis killed." Crosby's voice was stern and cold.
"I have a plan detective, I need to call some friends. I'll get Phyllis and take care of my problems. Then I'll tell you were the other factories are and you can take care of them yourself. I can't have you helping me with Phyllis. It is too dangerous. They see any Star and Phyllis is fish bait. Just do what you do and I'll take care of the rest." Marone tucked the note into his coat and walked away.
"Hey Marone!" Greg turned around. "Be careful."
"Always." Greg tipped his hat to the Detective and headed down the alley to hail a cab.
Chapter 13
The phone rang three times before a kind voice answered.
"McCallister, what can I do for you?"
"Hello Devin, it's Greg."
"Marone, what are you calling me for, finally decided the lone gunmen thing wasn't paying?"
"No, I need some help. Phyllis has been kidnapped by the Yakuza and they want me to show up tomorrow night at the docks to get her back."
"How did you get caught up with the Yakuza?"
"I hit one of their factories and shut it down. Then I killed one of their managers."
"You're the one that killed Fun and pulled that slave factory job, Jesus Greg, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?"
"I need some help to get Phil out. I'm supposed to meet them at this dock warehouse on the bay but I'm not sure where they are keeping her. I need about three more runners. Preferably a couple of guns and a rigger. Can you spare anyone for me?"
"I have some people that owe me favors. I can send Brock, Jill, and Pelt. Where should they meet you?"
"Tell them to meet me at the corner of Wabash and Montgomery. I can explain the situation on our walk to the dock. I'll have to owe you one McCallister."
"That's fine, I have a job I think is up your alley, but first lets get Phyllis out. I'll send the troops to Wabash and Montgomery, what time?
"Make it four o'clock tomorrow. Tell your rigger to bring some flying cameras and the like. Thanks Devin."
"No problem, keep in touch, they'll be there at four. Talk to you later."
Marone hung up the phone and put his feet up on the makeshift coffee table in his living room. His guns were sprawled out on the table. Cleaning supplies and brushes were sitting next to them. Greg slowly massaged his temples.
"God, I hope this works."
Chapter 14
They were all on time. Greg looked over the group as he approached them. Brock was the large troll. He wore dark sunglasses and an armored leather vest. An FN-Har was slung over his shoulder. Four mini-grenades hung from a pair of crisscrossing straps on his massive chest. Next to him a thin and shapely elven women was standing dressed almost entirely in black. The only noticeable color was her somewhat pale complexion and shock of blonde hair. At her hips dangled a Barretta. To her left was a small dwarf in a wheelchair. He sat straight up in his chair. He had no legs and needed a seat belt to keep him in the mechanical chair. He wore a telephone like headset and had a computer in front of him. A box on the back of the chair undoubtedly held his little machines. He was somewhat scruffy but he looked serious and smart.
Greg waved to them as he approached. Brock and Jill nodded to him in reply and Pelt waved a feeble hand.
"So what are we doing Marone? Please tell me you have a plan." Jill spoke quickly and smoothly.
"We need to go down to the docks. Pelt I'll need you to scout out the area and see if we can get to Phyllis. Brock and Jill that's where you come in. I'll go to my meeting and you will find Phyllis."
"Sounds simple enough, Devin said that we were messing with the Yakuza. What kind of weapons do they have?" Mused Brock.
"I'm not sure, I haven't gone down there yet. Lets get going, the night will give us plenty of cover and Pelt can use his little machines to get us some info."
They nodded and headed in the direction of the docks. It didn't take long; the docks were pretty dark for the most part. Some lamplights illuminated the rotting wooden boards of the dock. A large yacht was tied to a dock. On the side was the Yakuza symbol that Greg has come to know so well. The warehouse was right along side the parked Yacht. The four figures stayed in the shadows of a group of boxes lying on the main boardwalk.
"Pelt, use your flying camera to scout out the yacht. I have about a half-hour before I need to be inside that warehouse. We need to find Phyllis by then."
Pelt nodded and pushed open the box on his back. He gripped a small joystick on his chair's arm, tapped a few buttons and within seconds a small flying robot levitated from inside the box. He adjusted some screen settings and rotated the small flying craft to test the camera.
"This will allow us to zoom in and even take a heat picture of the yacht. This way we can get an accurate count of how many people are on the boat." Pelt pointed to his computer screen.
Pelt pressed on the control stick and flew the camera drone low over the water toward the yacht. The small size and silent rotors made it impossible to detect. He maneuvered the little flying machine skillfully up the side of the yacht and peered into the windows.
He could make out about three guards. One at the bow of the boat, one at the stern and one in the captains chair looking over some charts. The little hover camera moved over to an open window. Inside sat a girl in a chair; she was bound at her hands and knees. Her mouth was gagged and her eyes were blindfolded.
"Bingo." Pelts voice was soft and reassuring.
"I found her, she is in the second level, third cabin from the bow."
"How does she look?" asked Greg.
"She's bound up nice and tight but otherwise she looks fine. There are three guards visible outside. I'm going to move the camera to see what is inside."
Pelt gently pressed on the small control stick and shifted the visual perspective on the room. In the corner was an Asian orc sitting on a couch. He looked like he was smoking something.
"We have one more orc. No wait, he's getting up and moving toward the door."
The orc appeared outside on the front of the boat. In a few minutes another orc and two other small figures joined him. They were heading toward the boat ramp in the direction of the warehouse.
"That's my cue. I better get to the warehouse; I have a meeting to attend to. I'm going to wear this earpiece. When Phyllis is safe, call me."
Brock and Jill nodded to him and watched as Greg walked off toward the warehouse.
Chapter 15
Brock and Jill scanned the yacht. The little hover camera was now resting on top of a crate keeping its eye on the yacht.
"I'll go first Brock, I'll take the bow line up and take out the first guard. You swim around to the back and take that guy out."
Brock smiled.
"Sounds good to me."
Jill slipped through the crates and slowly worked her way into the water. She disappeared below the dark water and resurfaced under the bow rope holding the boat to the dock. She looked back and saw Brock enter the water and go under the waves. He surfaced hugging the side of the yacht toward the back of the boat. Jill slowly swam her way over to the bowline and started climbing up. She hung from the bottom of the rope and moved upward hand over hand. She stopped at the tip of the boat and tilted her head just enough to make out the one guard that stood less than three feet away from her. She continued to slide up just a bit more.
She reached her hand out and grabbed the unsuspecting guard. She yanked him down and he came down hard on a metal pole in the guardrail. He caught the rail between his legs. The immense pain and force knocked the wind out of him. He couldn't yell or barely breathe. Jill lifted herself to the walkway, and pistol-whipped the guard who lay curled up on the walkway. The guard passed out and went limp. Jill kept herself flat against the boat waiting for Brock.
Brock had made his way around to the back of the boat. He pulled himself up on the edge of the wooden dive deck that just tipped the water as the boat swayed in the waves. Brock managed to slide his way up and onto the boat's back deck. He crept over to the guard who was staring out into the dark water toward the dock. Brock came up behind him and in one quick motion grabbed the man's mouth and stuck his retractable spur through the guard's chest. The man jerked twice then went limp. Brock slid the dead body off of his long metal spur and onto the deck. He peered around the edge of the boat. Jill was making her way toward him.
She pointed up at the last guard who was busy reading a paper and listening to news over his radio. Brock nodded to Jill and started walking in her direction. She motioned for him to get down. Brock knelt down on his knees. Jill stepped on his back and with a quick hop was on the deck directly below the guard's position. Jill maneuvered in behind the ladder leading up to the cockpit. Brock worked his way to the back of the boat. He picked up the dead body and heaved it into the water. It hit with a resounding splash. The guard noticed the noise and began to investigate. He slowly descended the ladder. One rung at a time. He paused for a second and Jill saw her opportunity. She pushed his feet out from under him with full force. His head smacked down on the top rung of the ladder and he fell back onto the lower deck. Jill checked him; he was out cold.
"Piece of cake." She smiled to herself.
Jill walked down to the main deck and down into the yacht's cabin. There she found Phyllis tied to a chair, her mouth and hands bound with tape. Her head was covered with a black bag. Jill pulled off the bag and started working on the tape and rope. Brock came into the room.
"Call Marone." She said to Brock.
He nodded and pulled out the microphone from his jacket.
"We got her Marone, take'em out."
Chapter 16
Greg walked over to the door on the side of the large warehouse. It was unlocked. He stepped forward into the open space. To his left and right were a collection of large and small boxes and crates. Down the center was an open lane, presumably for forklifts and the like. Greg had an uneasy feeling. The warehouse would easily hide snipers and more. It was lit by overhanging track lights mixed with other single bulb lights. He walked slowly down the middle lane of the warehouse.
"You can stop there Mr. Marone." An Asian sounding voice came from in front of him.
Greg stopped in his tracks. Four figures came out of the shadows in front of him. He recognized one of them immediately.
"Puck." He spoke softly to himself.
The little dwarf stood between an old Asian man and an orc. Another orc stood on the opposite side of the old man.
"So this is how you got your information, Puck you sniveling little drek, I should have killed you when you had the chance." Marone's tone of voice was one of pure rage. It took all of his will power to keep from filling Puck full of lead.
"That's right Marone, I sold you out and for a good price mind you."
"Yes, that is correct Mr. Marone. Puck here was quite useful, but honor is a strong element in the Yakuza and we dislike those that rat on their friends." The old man spoke in a monotone and looked over at Puck.
Puck looked up at him; his brow went up, his knuckles turned white.
"Wha, what do you mean Mr. Lom?"
"I mean that we are done with you." Lom pulled one of his hands from his side pocket made a quick gesture in Puck's direction.
Puck grew fearful and turned left and right waiting for one of the orc's to put a bullet in his head. They didn't move. They just stood and watched. In a couple of seconds Puck looked down, he was hovering over the floor a couple of inches. Lom made another gesture with his hand and Puck was hurled upward. His head slammed into one of the hanging lights. The glass bulb shattered. Puck's body convulsed as electricity surged through his small body. He shook for about a minute and then fell to the ground in a steaming heap. His head was burnt and blackened. Smoke cam from his gaping mouth. Lom looked down at the body and shook his head.
"No honor, this one had no honor."
Greg swallowed hard. The two orcs had their eyes trained on him.
"Well Mr. Marone, as you have undoubtedly guessed my name is Mr. Lom."
Greg nodded to show that he understood very clearly.
"You have been causing us a lot of trouble Mr. Marone. You have slowed down one of my most profitable businesses and the Yakuza does not appreciate losing money."
"Spare me the details Lom, where is the girl and what is the deal?"
"Patience Mr. Marone, the Yakuza also do not like impatient people. The girl is fine and will stay that way as long as you cooperate and turn yourself in. When you are safely in our possession then the girl will go free."
"How do I know that I can trust you?"
"I am a man of my word, Mr. Marone. Now kindly step forward a few feet so that you are more clearly in the light, then remove your side arms and place them on the floor in front of you. Then step away and do not attempt to escape or with one call I can have your precious little friend drowned in Seattle harbor. Do I make myself clear Mr. Marone?" Lom spoke slowly and deliberately. His monotone voice was strong and direct.
Greg nodded.
"Come on guys, sometime today." Greg thought to himself.
He moved the few steps forward so that an overhanging light illuminated him.
"That is far enough Mr. Marone."
Greg stopped and slowly pulled his coat back to reveal the Preds. He unclipped the holsters and removed the two pistols. His heart began to beat quickly.
"Come on Brock, Jill. Where are you?" His mind began to race with options.
He knelt down and started to place the pistols onto the ground. The radio in his ear crackled.
"We got her Marone, take'em out."
Greg smiled, gripped his Preds tightly and pointed them in the direction of the orcs. He rolled to the left while firing off a burst of eight shots in the direction of the orcs. Greg managed to roll behind some crates. He peered around the corner. He had hit one of the orcs in the leg and knocked him to the ground. Lom had disappeared behind some crates along with the other orc.
"Kill him!" screamed a furious Lom.
The uninjured orc was barricaded behind a group of crates and took shots in Greg's general direction. Wood splintered and flew all around Greg. He moved father behind the crates. When the orc's volley paused Greg let his own barrage fly.
Meanwhile, the injured orc lay immobile in the center of the floor. His leg was bleeding badly. With a grimace of pain the guard unhooked a mini grenade from his belt; he gripped the pin in his hands and pulled it out. Greg spotted the grenade and focused his attention on the orc. Greg let loose a half a clip at the orc's arm. It hit home and the orc dropped the active grenade right on top of himself. The explosion was deafening. It shook the entire warehouse. It destroyed a small portion of the other orc's hiding place, forcing him to move farther back into the warehouse.
In the explosion a plank of wood had caught Greg off guard and he now lay under it. Smoke and dust filled the warehouse. Greg shook his head. A sharp pain flew through his leg. He pulled himself out from under the wood and turned himself around to face the opening at the center of the warehouse where the explosion had emanated. His leg hurt badly and he checked to see if he could move it. It moved only slightly.
"Good, not broken." He thought.
He heard some commotion coming from the other side of the warehouse. The stench of burnt flesh hung in the air. Blood and carnage was scattered around the room. Death wafted in the air. Greg pulled himself up and checked his leg. He slipped a bit but held steady. He pushed a small button on the grips of his pistols; the empty clips fell to the floor with a smack. He slapped two more fresh clips in.
"Now, I'm angry."
The orc that still had his parts intact was scanning the area looking for any sign of Greg's body. He held a FN-Har ready to wreak havoc.
"Come out you drek and take what's coming to you!" The orc's thunderous voice was filled with pure rage.
He began to fire wildly in every direction. Wood shattered and spread throughout the room. Greg knelt down and hugged the far wall as he made his way around the warehouse. Smoke was starting to fill the wide-open space as a pile of crates burned in a corner. Greg slipped through the smoke and made his way to the back of the warehouse. The orc was still firing wildly in all directions. Bullets whizzed off the walls and crates. Greg flinched as a bullet bounced off a near by pipe. After a few seconds the FN-Har went silent. There was the sound of a clip going back into a gun and heavy breathing following it. Greg wove his way around some boxes and positioned himself behind a steel support beam. He inhaled and exhaled.
"Here goes."
Greg stepped out from behind the support beam and fired into the smoke. He unleashed two clips of ammo into the gray haze. When he finished he unhinged the two empty clips from his pistols and they fell to the floor with a whack. It was the only sound that could be heard in the warehouse. Greg walked into the smoke and fanned it away with his arm. On the floor the orc lay bleeding from about ten holes scattered throughout his body. The FN-Har lay at his side. He was still breathing but it was short slow and deliberate. Blood poured out and onto the floor. Greg reloaded his two pistols and stood over the bleeding mass. He knelt at the head of the orc and forced his eyes open.
"I want you to see who killed you. I want you to remember my face when you finally die."
The orc inhaled heavily and exhaled. With his last breath he spoke.
"Go to hell."
Greg closed the eyelids of the now dead orc. He stood up from the body. That's when the attack came. Some kind of cosmic force struck him from behind and sent Greg flying about twelve feet before landing on his back on the cement. He pulled himself up and looked at his attacker. Lom stepped out from the smoke. His eyes burned the color of red and energy seemed to flow from his hands.
"Now I will destroy you in one fell swoop and you will never be a bother to me again."
Greg searched for his pistols but they were too far away. Lom raised his hands in the air and conjured up all of the energy he had left in him, focusing it into his hands. The bolt of energy flew from his cane directed at Greg. Greg crouched down and put his hands up to take the blow.
The stream of lighting struck some kind of barrier not six inches from Greg's body. For a split second it illuminated some kind of energy sphere around him. Lom's face went limp as he fell to the ground.
"This can't be."
A bolt of energy came out of no where and struck Lom's fragile body and sent him hurling into a pile of boxes. His cane dropped to the floor. Greg looked up stunned. He searched the room for his savior. Detective Crosby walked out into the open area and over to Lom's cane. He picked it up in one hand and smashed the head of it against the floor. Pieces of ivory scattered over the warehouse.
"You won't be needing this. Take him away. Make sure you bag, gag, and tie him up."
A small troop of Star flooded into the warehouse. One used a small fire extinguisher to put out the blaze. The others lifted up Lom's body and hauled it away. Crosby walked over to Greg who had propped himself up against the wall.
"Thank you detective."
"Thank you Mr. Marone. With your help we not only seized one of the Yakuza's most influential officers but we also found the information that lead to the shutting down of six other factories scattered throughout Seattle."
Greg smiled to himself.
"Glad to be of service."
"Now lets get you fixed up shall we?"
"That would be great Detective."
Crosby helped Greg to his feet and helped him outside. Once outside Greg was almost tackled back to the ground when Phyllis threw her arms around him.
"Thank you, thank you Greg."
Tears began to flow from her cheeks. Greg stood motionless and uneasily put his arms around her.
"No problem." He whispered in her ear.
She smiled up at him.
"Oh, your hurt, here let me take you to the paramedics."
Phyllis guided Greg over to the ambulance parked in the lot. In a couple of minutes they had bandaged him up.
"So, does this mean I still owe you dinner." Greg mused to Phyllis.
"Ooh dinner sounds good." Jill's voice came from behind him.
Brock, Jill, and Pelt walked over to Phyllis and Greg. Greg reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of cred sticks.
"Here, a thousand each of you." Go out and have a nice dinner on me.
Jill, Brock, and Pelt took the cred sticks, said their good-byes and walked away. Phyllis turned to Greg.
"Yes, you still owe me dinner, but I'll pay, you just need to show up and maybe clean yourself up a bit."
Greg looked at her. She was smiling at him.
"You drive a hard bargain but sounds like a good deal."
Phyllis held his arm and helped him to walk. The two of them walked off the dock and down the street.
"I don't think we should let him go sir, he's killed a lot of people."
Crosby turned to Becky.
"Believe it or not, he's on our side." He smiled to himself as he watched the two figures disappear into a taxi.
