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Date: Tue, 23 Sep 1997 20:40:37 -0700
From: Alexis Marie Ericta 
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To: syblaze@internetconnect.net, jq@edc.ml.org
Subject: Crimes that Bind 1/?
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Heh heh heh heh heh......I TOLD ya it was coming very soon! :)

DISCLAIMER:  I don't own JQ, I don't own JQ 200...hey, waitasec....I DO
own JQ 2000!  MWAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!!! *ahem* Twilight City
concepts are owned by Nicole Cuazon, Fic partly (I said PARTLY Jaella!)
inspired by the novel "Sweet Revenge."  I'm SO not making money outta
this. WARNING: Chaos, Violence, DBN-ish HR, and adult language present
in this fic.  Viewer discretion is advised :)

CATEGORY:  DBN-ish HR, H, A, 2K, X in the form of the Twilight City MLer
fic.

SUMMARY:  Chaos ensues in Twilight City, New York, as thieves,
terrorists, FBI agents, assassins, and cops chase each other with
planes, trains, and automobiles. (heh heh heh heh...).

PAIN TV shamelessly prevents...ah, I mean, shamelessly presents.....
      		......CRIMES THAT BIND

	
	Neon Lights blinked on in the darkness, almost outshining the stars
overhead.  Traffic whizzed swiftly down the concrete, streetlamp-lined
highways as city-dwellers sped homeward, eager to eat dinner, meeting
friends in the local nightclubs, or just about whatever they do during
the evenings.  It was nightfall, descending in a slow, steady pace in
Twilight City, New York.
	It wouldn't have been typical for anyone to hang off a building, in
fact, it would've been very strange.  But for a tall, black-clad figure
hanging off the edge of the Mercury Jewels Corporation building, it was
a regular occurence on its way, if it hadn't reached there already, to
becoming a way of life.
	Bright, blue eyes peeked from underneath a dark hood as he placed a
circular, electronic device in one of the tinted windows of the tall,
graphite building.  Earlier that evening, the rich, wealthy, upper-class
elite of Twilight City came together to hold a gala celebrating the
exhibition of one of the rarest, most beautiful and most expensive gems
in the world.
	The Vanhellian Sapphire (tm).
	It was an exquisite, one-hundred-and-seven-point-zero-zero-four carat
affair.  A deep, rich shade of royal blue cut in an imperial design,
reflecting light in different directions at once, giving it an almost
blinding luster underneath direct light.  The gem was circular, sent in
gold inlay surrounded by tiny, seemingly insignificant emeralds.
	The figure knew, or anyone else in the business for that matter, that
with the gems popularity, no one could sell it safely...even in the
Black Market (tm).  It was too popular to sell indiscreetly.  But with
the technology in the current century, it was no problem cutting it into
unrecognizable fragments with an infrared, super high-intensity laser.
	Besides, the gem was only about one-fourth of the total gain.
	What this thief was after was not only the gem itself, though it was
also part of his intent to possess it.  The challenge of taking it,
however, pleased him even more.
	A high profile gem, he learned (or basically what everyone with a brain
would know), can be expected with an egually high-profile security
system.  And this one, the one he was about to face, the very same one
guarding the gem, was what he would call, more or less, a masterpiece.
	Such was the Gauntlet 240SX Guardian System (tm), dubbed to be
ninety-nine percent burglar-proof.
	And this particular thief yearned to be the one percent that gets away.
	The entire operation took him six months to plan, looking over the
plans of the building, the layout of the exhibition hall where the gem
was (by touring constantly inside the building under disguise), and
finally, the plans for the security sytem itself, provided by his only
contact and partner.
	The system was remarkable, to say the least.  The floor, though carpet,
was pressure-sensitive.  Any footstep which even brushed a bristle on
the plush, red carpet would be cause enough to trigger an alarm. 
Invisible, sensor lasers lined the room in seemingly inpossible angles,
from the ceiling down to the floor, shifting their positions randomly in
every ten minutes.  Five cameras guarded the room.
	The glass case containing the gem itself was time locked.  The thief
learned that it could only be opened at precisely ten o' clock in the
morning, and not a minute later.  The glass was also pressure sensitive,
its alarm triggered by invisible wires lining the frame from within.
	So the only way to get the gem out was to open the case legitimately at
ten o' clock...about nine hours in the future.
	The temperature was a steady twenty degrees celsius (as the owner of
the building was European who abhorred the US standard Farenheit
measure).  The thief also learned that the room was also rigged with a
computerized temperature sensor, and anything that causes the
temperature to rise inside the room would also trigger an alarm, and the
beefy security guards that go with it in ten seconds flat.
	So the thief figured that the real challenge was actually getting TO
the glass case in the center of the room without tripping the alarms and
without being seen.
	The figure detached the electronic device from the window and the
circle of glass that came off with it.  He snaked an arm inside the
newly-made hole, unlocking the window from within.
	He stepped inside, slipping on a pair of high-tech, infrared
night-vision goggles over his eyes.  The thief scanned the room, melting
into the shadows easily with his black clothing.
	He crept along the wall, then placed a small, electronic device on the
camera above him.  That was, he discovered, one of the flaws of the
entire system.  The cameras were run by a computerized network, jam one
of them and the rest of the cameras in the room are also rendered
helpless.
	The pressurized floor and the lasers will be dealt with later.  Before
he entered the exhibition room, which lay beyond the heavy, french
double door in front of him, he had to take care of the temperature
sensor.
	Carefully, he grabbed a sharp, small knife from his belt bag and cut
along the edge of the carpeting of the dark hall he was in.  He took
several wires out, shook his head sadly at the poor excuse of an
electrician the CEO hired to wire the building, and carefully took out a
small, palmtop computer from his belt bag.
	"Hmmm...bypassing the system should be no problem...." he mused,
tapping a couple of keys on the tiny keyboard, then clamped several
wires from the computer and onto the wires of the building.  "At least
the electrician used Fiber Optics..." he mused, recognizing the type of
wires he held as he spliced his wires and the building's wires together.
	He was unable to jam or disable the sensor from where he was, since the
sensor itself was in the room, so the thief figured that his best bet
would hack into the computer network and jam it through there.
	The figure slipped a tiny compact disc inside his palm top, waited for
a Spade Black Jack to flash across his screen, and launched his computer
virus into the network.  After a few minutes of tapping the keys, he
smiled in satisfaction as he reached a "Please Type Your Password Here"
window.  Typing a couple of commands, he opened a password window as
well, the one that can access his virus.  Typing his password in the
afforementioned window will enable his computer virus to override the
network's password command and tap into the sensor's console.

(author's question: Is anyone getting this so far? ;)

	His grin grew broader when a smalll beep signalled that he was
successful, and busied himself stalling the functions of the temperature
sensor, rendering it motionless in detecting any rise in the temperature
in the room.  The thief took a deep breath, then reached inside his belt
bag, took out some sharp tools, and busied himself picking the lock of
the Exhibition Hall.
	The figure heard a telltale click, and opened the door silently, waving
his hand inside the door experimentally to ensure if the sensor was
jammed.
	It was.
	The thief sighed with relief and opened the door.  He whistled as he
caught the glimpse of angled, random, criss-crossing lasers his goggles
picked up.
	Now all he had to do was get passed the lasers without touching the
floor, make sure he doesn't touch the lasers, reach the center of the
room in under ten minutes while maneuvering his body in difficult angles
to AVOID the afforementioned lasers before they shifted.
	Noooooooooo problem.
	Sure, he could've just jammed the sensors as well, like he did with the
sensor.  Unfortunately, the network wires for the lasers weren't
accessible in his location.
	This basically meant he'll have to do an obstacle course run on the
ceiling overhead.
	The figure tugged at his black, rubber gloves, the gacve it a squeeze. 
Depressions not unlike suction cups appeared on the surface of his
palms.  He bent over and squeezed his boots, giving the same depressions
underneath his feet.  He looked in his belt bag and smiled in his
satisfation to see a piece of strong, nylon-and-plastic cord inside it.
	He took a deep breath, perspiration beading his invisible forehead, and
started scalling the wall nearest him, avoiding several lasers by
twisting around them.  Later, he was hanging off the ceiling, twisting
his body around the lasers carefully while keeping track of the time.
	Finally, he reached the center of the ceiling, doging one final laser
over his head.  He hung like a cat with its claws embedded on the
ceiling, looking down on the glass case's cover.
	The figure pulled his right hand from the ceiling and unzipped his belt
bag.  He retrieved the extremely strong, nylon-plastic cord and, with
the help of the clamp that came with it, attached it on the ceiling and
held on to it.  He slipped the loop over his head and onto his waist,
then detached his feet and left hand off the ceiling.
	The loop tightened around his waist as he suddenly fell, then turned in
an upright-hanging position, breathing a sigh of relief.  He proceeded
to lower himself down the glass case, his feet inches off the floor.
	He scrutinized the electronic time lock in front of him, and smiled
slightly.  It was about five inches wide, with a screen counting out the
hours in green, electronic letters.  The panel was screwed in, metal,
covered by tinted plexiglass.  He took out his palmtop computer again
and carefully took out a small screw driver to unscrew the plexiglass
top.  Then, he cautiously rigged the wires of his palmtop on the wires
ot the timelock, careful not to touch the glass.  He turned back to his
tiny computer and tapped several keys in.  After a few minutes, he
smiled in satisfaction as the electronic clock began to speed up.
	The palmtop stopped it's processing when it reached ten o'clock am.  A
telltale click sounded as the alarm inside the glass case deactivated,
then the top opened slightly.  He bit his lip to prevent corwing with
satisfaction.
	The figure grinned broadly and reached with his gloved hands to take
the gem carefully in his hand.  It was heavy, brilliant, spectacular. 
He stuffed it inside his belt bag, closed the lid of the glass case,
returned the time-lock back to its present time, screwed back the
plexiglass cover, then returned his paltop in his beltbag and zipped it
up.  He started ascending back to the ceiling again.  
	He had three minutes to spare.

*******

	A slim, young woman tapped the steering wheel of her dark blue, Honda
(tm) sportscar impatiently, scanning the area around her.
	She watched the Mercury Jewels Corporation headquarters, her gray eyes
riveting in the dark.  She was currently parked in the street in front
of the side of the building, next to an all night diner and a hotdog
stand, its vendor almost lolling to sleep.
	She found it ironic that as a member of the Twilight City Police
Department, she was stuck to park in a "No Parking" zone. 
	But it was necessary to watch the building.
	Detective Mishelle Taylor-Jenks was on the trail of one of the elusive,
skilled, intelligent thieves the world hasn't come across in a long
time.  She spent her early years in the PD scraping for every bit of
information the computers had on him.....if the thief WAS a man (can't
really tell these days).  She was on the scene everytime someone
suspected he could've struck, bent upon finally catching the mysterious
cat burglar known only as to the world as Blackjack.
	Whatever happened, this young detective always got her man, and she
wasn't about to break her record.  In a male-dominated field, she felt
she had to do her part to keep up.
	The car was making her feel slightly claustrophobic, or stuffy,
whichever came first.  She turned off the air conditioner earlier with
fear that she might use up her car's battery.
	The young detective sighed, then opened her car door and stepped out,
letting the night breeze ruffle through her brown, fairly short
ponytail.  She straightened her long sleeved white button down shirt,
and jeans, with her black, bomber jacket tied around her waist.  Her
stomach growled.  She was so engrossed with her own stakeout that she
didn't even bother to eat something before leaving the TCPD
Headquarters.
	Mishelle walked up on the sidewalk and hurried to the hotdog stand. 
She gave the sleepy vendor a friendly smile, and the plump, aproned man
blinked at her in return, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
	"I'll take one," she told him, fishing around her back-pocket for her
wallet.  A shadowy movement caught her eye as the vendor handed her the
hotdog.  She grasped it absently and whirled around, her eyes scanning
the Mercury building.
	Sure enough, there was her quarry, descending down the high building in
ropes, jumping and sliding down the smooth, graphite walls.
	"Crap!" she cried, dropping the hotdog back on the stand and raced for
her car.
	"HEY!" the vendor bellowed in outrage as she reached in her car window
and grabbed her gun and holster.  "You still have to PAY for that,
lady!"
	"Put it on my tab!" she called over her shoulder, dispatching backup on
her police scanner and hurried over the building.
	"Oh okay...." the vendor mused absently, then his brown eyes narrowed. 
"HEY!" he cried.  "I don't TAKE credit!"
	By then, the detective was already out of earshot.
	
	Blackjack grinned at his apparent victory and patted his black belt
bag.   Now that he was on solid ground, he had no more worries for the
night.  
	He heard footsteps approach him as he was about to pull down his hood. 
He turned and spotted, to his chagrin, the detective hounding him ever
since he started operating in Twilight City, running at him, her hand on
her gun.
	Blackjack smirked to himself.  This was the closest she ever got to him
so far.  At least they were standing face to face.
	"Alright you, stay where you are and put your hands up!" the young
detective yelled at him, pointing her gun at his direction.  She smirked
at him.  "Gotcha, Blackjack."
	"You again," Blackjack sighed, yet amused.  He leaned his shoulder on
the wall as the female eyed his every move warily.  His blue eyes looked
back at her gray ones as they stared each other down.  "Are you ever
gonna stop chasing me, detective?"	
	"I guess I can stop doing that now," she replied.  "After all, I have
my gun pointing right in your chest, right?"
	The thief smiled at her sassy tone.  Now that he actually got a good
look at the detective, he thought she was almost too pretty to be a cop,
too slender.  Brown, wavy hair, gray eyes, pale skin, delicate
cheekbones and a small, petite nose.  Her hair was a mess, with loose
tendrils of hair wisping about from her ponytail.
	He smirked to himself.  He didn't mind having her on his trail in
relentless pursuit.  That was one of the things that stood out in his
mind everytime he caught a glimpse of her speeding in the scene of his
recent burglaries.  She was smart, and extremely persistent.
	Her gray eyes narrowed.  "What's with the look?" she asked
suspiciously, her hold on her semi-automatic unwavering.
	Blackjack smirked at her, though she couldn't see it through his hood
and the darkness.  "I say detective...I've been wondering for a long
time," he mused.  "What's your name?"
	He knew what her name was, of course, since her pursuit of him
intrigued him even more when it came to her.  He started delving on any
information regarding her, sizing up his opponent, knowing that she was
doing the same.
	"Doesn't matter," she replied.  "You'll find out soon enough once we
get you down to the station.  Move away from the wall, please."	
	He moved away from the wall, his hands up halfway.  Blackjack looked at
the detective, smirking underneath his hood.  "You're too pretty to be a
cop, detective," he told her, chuckling slightly.  "When you were
running around chasing me, I thought it was some fashion model trying to
hold me up."
	Her left eye twitched.  "What's that supposed to mean?" she growled.
	Blackjack shrugged.  "It was a compliment."
	"I doubt it."
	"You're too tense, detective," he told her.  "Loosen up a little, you
got me fair and square......."  A mischievous gleam in his eye caused
the woman to glare back at him suspiciously.
	Sirens echoed in the distance, and Blackjack knew, and expected, that
she would call for backup.
	"So how didja find me, detective?" he asked her.  "No one knew I was
gonna break in the Mercury building."
	"It's your style," the detective replied.  "High-risk, high-profile
gem, high-tech security system...you wouldn't pass the challenge up. 
Same thing when you stole the Hope Diamond from the Smithsonian in DC,
then put it back just for the hell of it."
	Blackjack chuckled.  "That one was pretty easy...." he mused.  "And you
remembered...I'm touched, detective."
	Suddenly, his blue eyes caught a glimpse of an object hurling towards
the detective.
	The female sensed it too, and whirled around, her eyes widening as she
caught a glimpse of a spiralling, rolling pin rocketing at her head.
	She crashed to the ground as someone tackled her from behind, the
rolling pin smashing against the wall, missing her head by several
inches.
	The female detective looked up, catching a glimpse of blue eyes and a
lock of blond hair from the hood.
	The hotdog vendor was running in their direction, shaking his fist. 
"So you're a mugger, too, huh lady?!" he ranted.  "Hey mister, the cops
are coming.  They'll take care of the lady."
	"What the HELL?!" the detective yelled, still beneath Blackjack.
	"Thanks buddy," the thief called back.  He looked down at the detective
and he could tell she saw the laughter in his eyes because of the rage
showing own her face.
	"Be careful next time, detective," he murmured, patting her cheek. 
"What if another rolling pin came flying at your head?"
	With that, he jumped off her and hurried away, disappearing amidst the
shadows of a dark alley.
	Mishelle stood up, her gun lying on the pavement away from her hand. 
She grabbed it while the ranting vendor came towards her direction.
	"Goddammit!" she yelled at him, flipping out her badge.  "HE was the
crook!"
	Ignoring the man's stuttering apologies, she turned and ran after
Blackjack, turning to the alley she saw him disappear in.
	She stopped in the middle of the dark alley, just in time to see a dark
figure climbing up the wall of another tall building.  He pulled himself
up the wall, and gave her a mock salute.
	"Better luck next time, detective!" he told her, before disappearing on
the roof, then poking his head off the edge again.  "Oh by the
way.....," he told her, looking at her from above.  "I like your hair
better down."
	With that, he slipped into the darkness and disappeared.
	Mishelle never felt so frustrated in her entire life.  She was so
close......
	She kicked an empty soda can on the ground sharply, giving it a dent on
the side as it flew from the ground.  "DAMMIT!" she yelled out, her
frustrated cry echoing in the deserted alley.

TBC.....
Heh heh heh....comments, flames, all are accepted! :) PLEASE tell me
what you think, so I'll know if y'all are INTERESTED in reading it :)
Toodles!

-- 
"But that's not the point! The point is that I am now a perfectly safe
penguin, and my colleague here is rapidly running out of limbs!"
-- Ford Prefect, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)

 
---Alexis: Chaos Insanity Ensuer
AGALAIAHRA'n Chaotic Creative Resevoir Philosophy: "HR-ism's like a
computer virus, ya gotta get it outta your system before your hard drive
crashes."

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