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. Serious CandC 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



Gulf and Bradley Regional Headquarters
MegaTokyo, Japan
December 21, 2035
10:15am 

     Carlton Bradley stared out of the window of the small office he'd appropriated upon his 
arrival in MegaTokyo. They view was less spectacular then the view from GENOM tower, but 
Carlton didn't care for views that much. He stared at the massive obelisk that was GENOM Tower.

     He was tall, as his father had been, but he hadn't inherited his father's bulk. His face 
was a series of sharp angles, and his eyes were cold and hard. He had long dirty blond hair 
that hung in a ponytail that reached halfway down his back. His blue suit was expensive, but 
somber in tone.

     He heard some enter the office. "Bored already, Sister?" he asked without turning.

     "Yes," replied Cora Bradley. She looked a lot like her twin brother, being only slightly 
shorter then him. She also shared the same cold harness in the eyes. "The poor girl isn't much 
fun when she drugged to the hilt. She can't feel the pain."

     "I need her alive and sane. Once we've gotten what we need from her, we can eliminate the 
drugs, and you can have her screaming to your heart's content."

     Cora smiled coldly. "How much longer?"

     "A few days, a week at the most."

     "I can wait that long."

     "I'm sure you can. But I have something else to occupy your attention for a while."

     "What?"

     Carlton turned and faced his sister. "Greg Mallory is in town," he replied in an even 
tone.

     Cora's eyebrow went up. "Is he? I take it then MALCORP is still trying to recover the 
girl?"

     "It would appear so. Now, the question is, is MALCORP going to hire the Knight Sabers to 
retrieve the girl, or did he bring in the Black Knights?"

     His sister shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We have enough `liberated Boomers' to handle either 
one, or both."

     He sat down in his chair. "But not enough to waste them like GENOM does." 

     "We could always set a trap."

     Carlton's smile matched his sister's in its coldness. "True. I suppose you have an idea?"

     "I do, but I need a couple of hours to work out the details. I'll tell you at lunch."

     "Lunch it is."

     Cora turned and walked over to the door. She turned slowly. "Is there I chance we could 
capture a Knight Saber? I would enjoy the opportunity to `question' one of them."

     "We'll see."

     "Thank you, brother." After she left, Carlton rotated his chair to stare out the window, 
and at GENOM Tower.

     "We have some unfinished business, Quincy," he said. "And I always finish my business 
before I move on."
  


AD Police Headquarters
District 3
December 21, 2035
10:39am 

     The small plaque next to the door said COMPUTER SECURITY OFFICE. The office itself was 
tucked off in a corner of the twenty-eighth floor, hidden from the rest of the world. It had 
taken Nene ten minutes to thread her way through the computer banks and occasional desks to 
find it.

     She had spent the time between Daley's conversation and now pulling all the data she could 
on MALCORP and Janie VanDell out of the computers. The disk containing the data rested in her 
purse, ready to be passed on to Linna at lunchtime. She'd only skimmed the data, since there 
was too much to read at the time, but there were some very interesting stuff there. She'd 
alsotaken the opportunity to crack into Leon's file and make a notation that he was on a week's 
vacation.

     She stood staring at the plaque. This is it, she thought nervously. My new job. 
New responsibilities. I hope I'm up to this.

     She entered the office carefully, and looked around. The room was about the size of her 
living room, with four gray walls and ceiling. Two cubicles occupied the far wall, taking up 
two thirds of the office space. The cubicle on the left was unused, empty of everything except 
a computer console sitting on a bare desk in near darkness.

     The other cubicle was occupied, and Nene looked in. She was surprised at the clutter that 
had accumulated in such a small area. Computer disks were laying around the desk, alongside 
cups, papers, books, pens, something that looked like a CD player, keys, and other knickknacks. 
The computer was on, and she saw it was running a program of some sort.

     The only occupant was leaning back in a high back chair. His eyes were closed, and he had 
earphones over his ears. He was of medium height, squat, and average looking. His dark hair, 
with a few white hairs showing, was a wild mess. He wore glasses, and it looked as if he'd 
forgotten to shave today.

     "Good morning Sergeant," he said, without opening his eyes. He slipped off the earphones 
to hear her, and Nene noted that he was listening to Priss and the Replicants.

     "How...er...."

     "How did I know you were there?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

     "Yes." Nene felt irritated. She hadn't been here ten seconds, and she was already on the 
defensive.

     "Your perfume. A rather expensive brand too." He opened his eyes, and smiled at her. He 
stuck out a hand. "Alan Tremolini, ADP's ACTING computer security officer. You're my new boss, 
right?"

     She accepted the hand. "Nene Romanova." His handshake was firm, but controlled. "Just for 
the record, What happen to the previous senior computer security officer?"

     Alan shrugged as he released her hand. "GENOM offered him the same job he was doing here, 
at twice the salary. He had a wife, two kids with a third one on the way, so he grabbed it." He 
leaned forward, eying Nene carefully. "Inspector Wong told me earlier that someone had accepted 
the job. He just neglected to tell me who."

     "Did he? All Daley told me was that there one other person in this department, and, for 
some reason, couldn't accept the position as head of department. He also said you were a solid, 
reliable guy who won't mind me taking over."

     Tremolini shrugged. "He got that right. Why don't you have a seat?"

     Nene perched herself on the edge of his desk. "Why can't you accept the position as head 
of department?" 

     "I'm classified as  B-1 limited duty. The head of any ADP department must be classified A-
2 or better."

     "Oh." She looked at him again. "Why B-1?"

     "Medical reason that I rather not talk about." He stared at her startled look. "No, I'm 
not a burnout case that's on the edge of going off like a rogue Boomer. I'm as sane as anyone 
else in the ADP - which means I have a couple of screws loose, but not that many."

     Nene let that pass. "How long to get me up to speed on the security system?"

     "Depends on how well you know the computer system right now."

     "I know it fairly well," she replied carefully. She didn't want to let on exactly HOW well 
she knew the system.

     "Well, to tell you the truth, ADP system security is rather poor. And this replacement 
system is more porous then the old system ever was."

     Tell me about it, thought Nene. Porous isn't the word for it. "What have you 
been able to do to secure the system?"

     "Not a hell of a lot. The new software we've got has more bugs in it then a Kansas wheat-
field. All I've been able to do is throw up roadblocks across some holes, and monitoring 
programs on others. This jobs need more then two people to do it well, but try telling that to 
the higher-ups."

     "How bad is the Cracker problem?"

     "Ah, you do know something about cyberculture after all."

     "A bit."

     "All right." He turned to the computer, and hit a couple of keys. The program that was 
running was replaced by a list of some type. "In the last six months, there has been three 
thousand attempts to breach ADP computers."

     "Yoew!" exclaimed Nene. "That bad?"

     "I said `attempts'. Over half couldn't get through the first layer of security, as poor as 
it is."

     "And the rest?"

     "The second level stopped about three quarters of those who got past the first. Only three 
hundred and fifty three got far enough in to do any damage, but most of them just did the cyber 
version of graffiti over several directories." 

     He tapped the computer. "I've put together a program that managed to isolate the serious 
attempts and assigns them to a certain Cracker based on several factors."

     "I'm impressed." This doesn't sound good.

     "I have a list of seventy-four crackers who made it past the two levels, and seem more 
intent on getting data from our systems then raising hell. I've been able to positively 
identify thirty-six of them, and have probables on another fifteen. The other twenty-three are 
the problem."

     "You can't identify them?"

     "Nope." He pointed to a line on the list. "Most aren't worth the effort to track down, but 
a few are. Take cracker forty-four as an example. Whoever it is, they're good. I can trace 
their penetration of the ADP system back at least four years, maybe longer. They've penetrated 
security eight time in the last ten months, secure the data they're looking for, and they gone. 
No stumbling around, no random destruction, nothing to trace them with."

     "What type of data?" asked Nene quietly. Has this guy been tracking me through the 
system without my knowledge?

     "That's the interesting thing. I think this one is works with the Knight Sabers. I fact, I 
think they are a member of the Knight Sabers."

     "What?" Nene looked at him, shocked. "How do you come to that conclusion?"

     "Several things, Boss." He typed in a command, and the screen changed. "The data."

     "Explain it to me, Alan." I REALLY need to know.

     "First, the timing." He pointed to a list. "Six times cracker forty-four has slipped into 
the system, a major event involving the Knight Sabers has happened within thirty-six hours." 

     "That's not much to go on." I have to know how much you've found out about my setup 
here. "How many times has the Knight Sabers appeared that cracker forty-four didn't put in 
an appearance?"

     "Seventeen times. But they were all Boomer rampages that didn't need ADP files."

     Nene nodded. "What else?"

     "The type of data our friend's been collecting. Mostly stuff like after action reports on 
Boomer rampages, examination reports of destroyed Boomer's memory systems, GENOM's replies to 
our reports, and Boomer technical reports."

     "Maybe someone wants to put their own Boomer together without paying GENOM royalties."

     "Maybe, but here is the centerpiece of my belief that cracker forty-four is a Knight 
Saber." He brought up a new screen. "Remember that nutcase that took over this place over with 
that group of Boomers a couple of years ago?"

     "I remember." I nearly got killed by one of those Boomers, came close to getting Chief 
Todo's niece killed, and nearly got blown up, along with the entire building!

     "I manage to retrieve some video footage for a security camera located in the auxiliary 
computer control room. It's not in great shape, there's no audio, but it good enough to view."

     He hit a key on the keyboard, and the computer screen flickered to life. Nene stared hard 
as the footage began to run. It wasn't very sharp, but Nene could see herself, in her familiar 
blue and pink hardsuit, working at the computer console. The angle of the camera made it 
impossible to see Mackie, so it looked as if she was alone in the room. 

     As she watched, her mind flashed back to that event. She and Mackie had been in a des-
perate race to save the ADP building from the Boomer who had attached itself to the main 
computer system. It had been a close thing, but she'd manage to overload the Boomer's circuits, 
destroying it before it could destroy the building. 

     After several more seconds, the screen went blank. Alan leaned back in his chair. "What do 
you think?" he asked.

     Nene shrugged. "Not much to go on," she replied in what she hoped was a neutral tone.

     "It shows that this Knight Saber has more then a passing familiarity with our system. The 
type of familiarity that a very good cracker would have."

     "Maybe. Have you told anyone else about this?"

     "Who am I going to tell?" Alan's face took on an expression of irritation. "ADP policy is 
I tell the department head, and they take it upstairs. The fact that this department HASN'T had 
a head for the last six months isn't covered in the policy manual."

     "And the Chief follows the Policy manual?"

     "Like it's tattooed to his forehead."

     Nene sighed. "All right. You've told me. What else should I know right now?"

     They spent most of the next hour reviewing the basic security setup, and Nene realized 
this job was going to be a major headache. Alan had tried his best to cover the major holes, 
but they security system needed a major overhaul.

     Nene glanced down at her watch and swallowed a gleep of shock. "It's after twelve!"

     "Is it? Midday or midnight?"

     She looked at him, wondering if he was kidding. Before she could answer, Daley stuck his 
head in the door. "How's it going, Nene?" he asked.

     Nene tried to stammer out a reply. "Er...uh...well...."

     "She'd doing fine, Daley," replied Alan, with a yawn. "She's going to be OK once I've 
taught her the ropes."

     "Great. Nene, I found someone who was waiting for you at your old desk. Something about 
Lunch?"

     Nene groaned. "Linna. I promised to have lunch with her today."

     Daley smiled. "Well, since I was coming down here anyway, I thought I'd save you a trip."

     Linna stuck her head around the door, grinning. "Hey there, Sergeant," she said brightly. 
"Ready to buy lunch for a poor working stiff?"

     "Sure. I need to talk to you anyway." Nene turned to Alan. "How long have you been here?"

     "What day is it?"

     "Go home Alan," said Daley. "I don't want to see you until tomorrow morning. You two have 
some long hours ahead of you."

     Alan shrugged. "Give me ten minutes to set up the monitoring programs, and I'll go crash 
for a while." He looked at Linna. "Hello, Linna. Still teaching aerobics?"

     Linna looked mildly shocked. "Alan?"

     "You know him?" asked Nene.

     "Er...yes." Linna looked puzzled. "Alan, You never said you were with ADP."

     "You never asked." He yawned. "Go have lunch, Boss, and let Linna fill you on what little 
she know about me." He turned back to the computer, and started typing in commands.

     "I think we've been dismissed," said Daley dryly. "Come on, I'll escort you to the lobby."



Sylia's Apartment
December 21, 2035
11:57am 

     Sylia sat in the living room, reading the newspaper quietly. Despite the holiday season, 
she'd taken the day off. If there was problem in the store below, she could be downstairs in 
minutes. But today, she thought spending the day with Mackie was more important.

     Mackie was asleep in his old room, and probably would be for another couple of hours. The 
conversation on the way home had been general in nature for the most part, but had change in 
the tone and content after they dropped off Nene at ADP headquarters. Sylia outlined What had 
happened at the airport, while Mackie listened with his eyes closed, When Sylia mentioned 
MALCORP, he opened his eyes.

     "Interesting," he'd remarked.

     "What's interesting?" she'd asked.

     "Do you know who's running MALCORP these days?"

     "No, I don't."

     "Greg Mallory."

     A memory involving a serious looking boy with different colored eyes had flashed across 
her thoughts. "Doctor Cordila Mallory's son?"

     "The same. His father died about a year ago, and he took over the business."

     "What else do you know about MALCORP?"

     "Not much. At the very least, they've got better PR people working for them then GENOM 
does. Word is Greg runs a tight ship, and has managed to piss off the other megacorps by not 
playing by their rules. His rep makes Quincy's look sad in comparison."

     "That sounds like Greg. He never did like playing by other people's rules."

     The conversation had drifted into other areas after that, but Sylia's mind now roamed back 
to that conversation. Could that have been Greg Jeena Malso met at the airport? Why is he 
here? And why is MALCORP looking for Janie VanDell?

     The doorbell rang, interrupting Sylia's train of thought. She got up slowly and answered 
the door. Priss stood there, glaring at her.

     "Would you like to come in?" Sylia asked mildly.

     "I would." Priss stalked into the apartment, followed by Sylia. While Sylia reclaimed her 
seat and went back to the newspaper, Priss headed for the kitchen and claimed a beer from the 
refrigerator. After popping the top, Priss took her beer and plopped down on the sofa. She took 
a long pull from the can, and glared at Sylia.

     "A little early in the day, isn't it?" asked Sylia, not looking up from the paper. 

     "It's lunch. Where's Mackie?"

     "Sleeping. What's wrong?"

     "I ran into someone you know at Pop's garage. Pops sent me over to tell you that Greg 
Mallory's in town."

     Sylia looked up. "You saw Greg?"

     Priss nodded. "A tall and lean guy, with one eye green blue in color, the other one gray."

     "That sounds like him."

     "Him and Pops acted like they were a couple of long lost family members."

     "Well, Greg's father wasn't around a lot, and Doctor Raven treated Greg like a son."

     "Pops seemed edgy for some reason. Told me to tell you and let you take the appropriate 
course of action, whatever the hell that is."

     "I see." Sylia closed her eyes and thought for several minutes. She opened her eyes. "Greg 
is up to something." She outlined MALCORP interest in Janie VanDell, the meeting of Greg and 
Jeena Malso at the airport, and the measures the corporation was taking to try to locate her.

     "So why would this Mallory be so hot trying to track down a single fourteen-year-old?"

     "I don't know, but I've got Nene pulling data on both MALCORP and Janie VanDell from the 
ADP systems. Once we get an idea What's going on, then we can take action."

     "What type of action?" asked Mackie, strolling into the living room, stretching and 
yawning at the same time. He was wearing a garish green bathrobe over blue PJs. "Hello, Priss," 
he said when he saw her sitting there.

     "Mackie." Priss waved at him. "How was your flight?"

     "Long and boring. How's the music biz?"

     "About the same." She drained the rest of the beer. "I'd better be going. I've got things to do."

     "What are you doing tonight?" asked Sylia.

     "I don't know yet." She stood. "Why?"

     "I'm having a welcome home dinner for Mackie tonight. You're invited."

     Priss shrugged. "Why not? What time?"

     "Seven."

     "Sounds good. See you then." She waved Sylia off. "Don't bother to get up. I'll let myself 
out."

     Mackie waited until Priss closed the front door behind her before he said, "You didn't 
tell me about this dinner."

     "Until twenty seconds ago, there was no dinner. I thought it might cheer Priss up."

     "What's wrong with her?"

     "The band tossed her out. I think she's taking it harder then she's letting on."

     "What about the others? They might have plans tonight."

     "I talked to Linna earlier. She didn't have anything planned. And Nene's not had much 
chance for a social life lately. I'm sure she'll jump at the chance."

     "Assuming there isn't a Boomer rampage tonight."

     "Well," replied Sylia, picking up her newspaper again. "Let's hope GENOM gives everyone a 
night off tonight." 



Chapter 7



Dastari's Restaurant
Tinsel City
December 21, 2035
12:35pm

     The view from the table's window was, to put it mildly, spectacular. Housed in one of 
MegaTokyo's tallest buildings, Dastari's was one of the city's best and most expensive 
restaurants. Nene was a bit surprised at the choice Linna had made, but with the respectful way 
the matre'd treated Linna and herself, it was clear that Linna was well known here.

     Nene stared out the window, admiring the view, her food temporally forgotten. She'd passed 
the disk with the data on MALCORP and Janie VanDell over to Linna once they'd gotten into the 
car, so that was out of the way. After they'd been seated at a booth near a window, Linna and 
she spent the time waiting for the food talking about their new jobs. Linna had recently 
secured a position at a respectable brokerage house. While she wasn't `raking in the money' as 
she had been before, she was earning enough to live well.

     "Nene!" 

     "Er...What?" Nene turned to look at Linna, who was scowling at her.

     "Were you listening?"

     "Sure," replied Nene. "You were talking about the hunk you have for a boss."

     "That was five minutes ago!"

     "Oh." She glanced down at her food. "What did you know about Alan?"

     "Alan Tremolini?" Linna sipped from a glass of red wine. "He was teaching martial arts a 
couple of nights at the aerobics studio where I worked about four years ago. We dated a couple 
of times, nothing serious. He was always the prefect gentleman. We've kept touch over the 
years, dated a couple of more times, but we've stayed only friends."

     "Is he always that laid back?"

     "Yes." She chuckled softly. "I use to kid him about checking for a pulse every so often, 
just to make sure he was still alive." She saw the worried look on Nene's face. "What's wrong?"

     Nene sketched out her morning with Alan, including his tracking of Nene's break-ins of the 
system. Linna listened, then asked, "You couldn't access this stuff directly from you 
workstation?"

     Nene shook her head. "It would have been traced back to me during the first security 
audit. Of course, I hadn't realized at the time, the security audits weren't being done more 
then once a year."

     There was silence for several minutes while they ate. Finally, Linna asked, "So, how does 
this new job going to affect your data gathering skills?"

     "Easier and harder."

     "How's that?"

     "Easier because I'll be able to access the entire system under the cover of `security 
checks'. My security clearance will give me the chance to open some back doors into areas I had 
to work to get into before." She sighed. "The harder part means I'm going to have to eliminate 
most of the holes I've been using to slip into the system. Also, I've got to be a lot more 
careful now, especially with Alan around. He knows the security system better then I do right 
now."

     "Sounds like you've got your work cut out for you." 

     "You don't know the half of it." She explained her conversation with Daley in the 
cafeteria. Linna said nothing, but just listened as the redhead told her about Leon quitting, 
her promotion, and Daley's request for Nene to head up a cracker unit inside ADP.

     After Nene finished, Linna shook her head slowly. "You've had a busy morning, haven't 
you?"

     Nene looked at her glumly. "I've still got this afternoon to worry about." 

     Just then, a low buzz from Linna's phone interrupted the conversation. Linna picked it up 
and answered it. "Hello?

     /Linna,/ said the familiar voice of Sylia. /Your office said you were at lunch./

     "Hello Sylia," replied Linna, looking at Nene. "I'm glad you called."

     /Is Nene with you?/

     "Yes, she's sitting across from me right now. Is something wrong?" 

     /Nothing's wrong. Did she give you the data disk?/

     "Got it in my purse. I can bring it by this afternoon."

     /I have a better idea. Are you still free tonight?/

     "Tonight? Sure. All I planned to do was stay home and do some reading."

     /How about Nene?/

     "Hold on." 

     She looked at Nene. "Sylia wants to know if you've got any plans for tonight." 

     Nene shook her head, and Linna continued her conversation. "Nene has nothing planned. 
What's up?"

     /I'm having a welcome home dinner for Mackie tonight./

     "Really? A dinner? You didn't mention this earlier when I talked to you."

     /This is a last minute decision. I talked to Priss, and she's a bit down. Some time with 
her family will do her some good. Besides, I think we should get together and have a nice long 
talk about some things./

     "I have no problem. Let me ask Nene first." 

     "Dinner's fine," said Nene, looking more cheerful.

     "Nene's coming too."

     /Fine. See you at seven. Bring the disk then./

     "See you then, Sylia. Bye!"

     /Bye./

     Linna put her phone down, and said, "Sylia's having a welcome home dinner for Mackie 
tonight, at seven."

     "Great!" Nene was smiling now. "What about the disk?"

     "Sylia said to bring it along tonight. She also mentioned that she thought it would be an 
opportunity for us to discuss some things."

     "Good, because I need to talk to her tonight about everything that happened this morning. 
I need some advice, and I trust her instincts."

     "Speaking of instincts," replied Linna. "It's time we got back to work. What are you going 
to be doing this afternoon?"

     "Moving my stuff into the Security office. I want to get started on securing the system 
first thing in the morning." 

     Linna's eyes gleamed in delight. "Which means you won't have any alcohol tonight."

     Nene smiled back. "Believe me, I want to start my new job with a clear head and a focused 
mind. Showing up with a hangover is not going to help my relationship with my subordinate."

     "Just be careful, OK?"

     "Don't worry. I'll dazzle Alan with my skill and charm."

     "Well, just remember that Alan hides much behind that laid back attitude of his," said 
Linna, standing up. "Don't become too enamored with dazzling him with skill and charm. He's not 
Leon. He won't drool at the flutter of an eyelash. Believe me, Nene, I know him well enough to 
say be careful."

     "I'll take your advice, Linna," replied Nene, looking crestfallen as she stood.

     "Good. Once I've settled the bill, I'll drop you back off at ADP Headquarters. Lets go."



Manroku's Bar
Tinsel City
December 21, 2035
1:27pm 

     Leon glared at the Bartender. "How many is that?" he asked, his voice slurred.

     "Eight," replied the bartender glumly. He usually liked working the day shift. It was a 
nice quiet time to make sure everything was ready for the evening crowd. But this guy had 
stridden in here two hours ago, and started ordering Kurita PPCs - grain alcohol cut with Sake. 
He downed the first one, then ordered a second, then a third....

     Leon stared at his hands, trying to count on his fingers. He held up three unsteady 
fingers. "Two more. Now."

     "Haven't you had enough?"

     Leon leaned over the bar and stared into the man's eyes. "I said two more."

     "Give him two more," said another voice. Both men looked over to see a tall woman with one 
arm stride into the bar as if she owned it. "On me."

     The Bartender sighed and made two more glasses of the drink. He set them down in front of 
Leon, then took the bills the woman gave him in silence. He went down the other end of the bar, 
leaving the two of them alone.

     "Jeena," said Leon, looking at her unsteadily.

     "Hey, rookie," she replied. "I heard you had a discussion with the Chief today."

     "He's a jackass."

     "Maybe, but I think you made a mistake in quitting the ADP."

     "I don't care." Leon looked at the drink in front of him. "I figure two more, and maybe I 
can forget the screams for a while."

     "Is that it?" asked Jeena knowingly. "The nightmares finally getting to you?"

     "Yep. Last night did it." He downed the first of the drinks in one go, not noticing the 
grimace on Jeena's face. He turned to look at the bartender at the far end of the bar. He was 
still looking in the bartender's direction when Jeena reached over and dropped a small pill 
into the full glass. It fizzled for a few seconds before it dissolved into the alcohol.

     She said softly, "What happened last night, rookie?"

     He spilled it out slowly and in pieces; A simple assignment that went to hell because of a 
new wrinkle in technology. A force shield of some type that was strong enough to deflect 
bullets turned two minor Boomers into an unstoppable force.  

     No wonder you're pissed, Leon, she thought. I would've punched out that weasel, 
not just tell him to go to hell. Still, I'm glad I found you. I think the Boss will want to 
have a talk with you after all.

     After ten minutes, he finished, and stared at the drink. "I'm tired of explaining to 
widows and children that their daddy die because our new chief is too damn scared of offending 
his masters. We're dying out there, and no one gives a damn anymore."

     "Drink up, Leon. I know someone who'd like to meet you."

     Leon shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm just going to sit here until I pass 
out." He downed the last drink.

     Jeena looked at her watch. "I think you'll be out like a light in...oh, fifteen seconds."

     Leon looked at her, and snorted a disagreement. "Want to bet on that?"

     "A hundred Yen says you'll be under before you can take out a hundred yen bill from you 
wallet."

     "You're on!" Leon reached into his jacket for his wallet. But before he could touch it, 
his eyes closed, and he slumped forward. Only Jeena's arm saved him from painful contact with 
the bartop.

     Still holding him, Jeena turned her head towards the door. "OK, he's out."

     Two burly looking men standing near the door came over and carefully lift Leon off the 
stool and carried him out of the bar. Jeena waited until they'd left before waving the bar-
tender over. She dropped several hundred-yen bills on the counter. "If anyone asks after our 
friend here, you didn't see him. OK?" She gave him her best `I REALLY mean it' smile. He nodded 
slowly in understanding, and collected the bills off the counter.

     Jeena turned and walked out of the bar. Her mind was already on her next task. You owe 
me Daley. Let's hope you come through on your side of the bargain.


Part 2 - Middle Game

Chapter 8



Gulf And Bradley - Japan Headquarters
Tinsel City
December 21, 2035
4:15pm 

     //Mr. Bradley, Doctor Zin-Choon is here. He wishes to speak to you.//

     Carlton Bradley sighed and put down the pen he was using. He pressed the intercom button. 
"What does he want to speak to me about?"

     The voice was female, crisp, and replied with no hesitation. //Project Doorstop.//

     Bradley frowned. "Very well, tell him I'll see him."

     "Very good sir."

     The door opened, and a short thin man wearing a white lab coat entered. He was almost 
bald, with What left of his hair white and stringy wisps clinging to his head. A thin droopy 
mustache, dark brown eyes, and narrow pointed features made him look like a rodent of some 
type. Bradley didn't like him, but respected his skills.

     Zin-Choon bowed. "I am sorry to disturb you Bradley-sama," he said slowly in precise 
English. "But I come to ask you to delay the next interrogation session with the girl."

     "Why should I?" asked Bradley, allowing his anger to show. "We need only two or three more 
sessions to retrieve all of the data we need from her."

     "But she is weak. I do not think she will survive the next interrogation session."

     "That is not my concern. My concern is the design for that shield generator." He stood up 
and planted both hands on the desk. "I want it, Doctor," He snapped. "And I want it as soon as 
possible!"

     Zin-Choon didn't react to Bradley's anger. "But she has managed to withhold the most 
important parts of the designs from us," he said in the same tone of voice he had used since he 
entered the room. "If she dies, the part of the plans we have are useless."

     Bradley thought for a moment. He hated the thought of any delay, but Zin-Choon was the 
expert, and he had to defer to the Doctor's experience in this matter. "How long before she's 
strong enough to go another session?" he asked, sitting down slowly, his eyes never leaving 
Zin-Choon's face.

     "Twenty-four hours, thirty-six at the most."

     "All right, you have thirty hours. I want her ready to go at ten thirty PM on the twenty-
second. Are we clear?"

     The doctor bowed in response. "That will be sufficient time." He waited several seconds 
before he continued. "There is one other matter I must discuss with you, involving the girl and 
you sister."

     "What?"

     "I must request that you sister stay away from the girl. Her presence is disrupting my 
efforts."

     "In what way?"

     "Interrogation is a science, and should be treated as such. Amateurs should not be allowed 
anywhere near a subject, especially one as young as the girl."

     "And you think my sister is an amateur?"

     "Yes, Bradley-sama. She enjoys interrogating subjects, a major sign of an amateur. There 
is no place for emotion in such an environment. Interrogation is for retrieval of information, 
not the satisfying of a personal appetite. It is my belief that your sister is partly to blame 
for the need to delay the next interrogation session."

     "I see." Bradley leaned back in his chair. "And if I refused to order my sister to stay 
away?"

     "Then I will not be held responsible for the death of the girl."

     Bradley took a deep breath. "I will tell my sister not to visit the girl for the next 
thirty hours. After that time, I will not promise anything."

     Zin-Choon nodded. "That is all I ask for. I thank you for this time, and apologize for 
disturbing you over this matter."

     "It is good you brought this matter to my attention, and I will heed your words. Good day, 
Doctor."

     Bradley watched the Doctor walk out of his office, before he dialed a number on the desk's 
vidphone. He waited until he saw his sister's face, and heard her voice. /Yes?/

     "Cora, we have to talk...."



Sylia's Apartment
December 21, 2035
7:14pm 

     The dinner was turning out to be a better idea then Sylia thought it would be.

     She looked at the faces around her table, drinking in the warmth and good feeling ema-
nating from them. Priss to her left was eating quietly, pausing only to make a remark every so 
often, but her earlier stiffness had faded. Linna was seated next to Priss was, enjoying the 
food and another of Mackie's stories about living and working in Germany. Nene was seated on 
the other side of the table, her food almost forgotten, as she watched and listened to Mackie. 
Mackie himself was at the far end of the table, spinning out story after story about his time 
in Europe.

     Mackie finished the current story, sipped from a glass of water, the said, "So, what have 
you guys been doing?"

     Linna chuckled. "I think Nene should start. She told me she had an interesting morning 
today."

     "Oh?" replied Sylia, noting Nene was suddenly blushing. "How interesting?"

     Nene explained her morning again, starting with Daley's talk in the Cafeteria. Sylia saw 
Priss's head snap up when Nene told them about Leon resignation, but the singer said nothing.

     But I can see what you're thinking, Priss. Sylia thought, watching Priss out of the 
corner of her eye while listening to Nene. He's gotten under your skin, hasn't he? You'll 
never throw yourself into his arms, but you're trying not to think about him right now.

     When Nene announced her promotion and new position, there were hearty congratulations and 
well-dones from the others, including a preoccupied Priss. Nene started to blush, and she 
paused to eat some. She continued her story, including Daley's request for a Cracker unit 
inside ADP. 

     Nene looked at Sylia, looking concerned. "Daley's right about the lack of knowledge about 
Boomers. I looked at What the ADP has on file this afternoon, and it's limited. I've got twice 
as much data in my suit's data files." 

     She stopped, her face a blank for a moment. Then she tightened her jaw in frustration. 
"Damn!" 

     "What is it?" asked Sylia calmly.

     "Before Daley dropped the bombshell about my promotion, he told me about the incident last 
night. In the excitement of today's events, it slipped my mind."

     "What?" asked Priss, glowering at the redhead.

     "Daley mentioned that the CU-5Ts Boomers we tangle with had force shields. That's why the 
ADP couldn't handle them." She summarized the entire conversation she'd had with Daley, careful 
not to leave anything out. The others listened in silence, and after she finished, there was 
silence around the table.

     "We saw no signs of any force shields when we took them down," said Linna.

     "That's because they were damaged by the time we got there." Nene frowned. "That might 
explain why their EM signature read slightly off from the CU-5T's baseline reading."

     "So someone's finally come up with a usable Boomer force shield," said Priss with more 
then a hint of sarcasm. "Just what we need to spice up our lives."

     "This is serious," said Sylia. "If those Boomers still had operational force shields when 
we attacked them last night, they could have been more then a handful - they would have been a 
danger to all of us." She thought for a second. "That might explain MALCORP's sudden interest 
in MegaTokyo."

     "What are you getting at Sylia?" asked Linna.

     Sylia outlined her conversation with Fargo, MALCORP's search for Janie VanDell, and Greg 
Mallory's sudden appearance. "I'll have to look at the data disk Nene put together before I say 
for certain," she said carefully. "But the sudden appearance of MALCORP is too much of a 
coincidence for my taste."

     Nene was watching Mackie, who was deep in thought. "What is it, Mackie?" she asked him.

     "It's funny you mention both the name VanDell and force shields," he said distractedly. "A 
couple of days before I left Germany, I overheard two of the other students talking about a 
Doctor VanDell."

     Sylia straightened. "Are you sure of the name?" she asked. 

     Mackie looked at her blankly. "Yes. Doctor Nathan VanDell."

     "What were the students talking about?"

     "It seems he died in a explosion at his lab in the northern United States about four days 
ago."

     "What does this VanDell have to do with any shield?" demanded Priss.

     "He was part of the team that developed the first stable force shield," replied Mackie.
"About fifteen or so years ago. I did a paper on the first tests earlier this year."

     "Oh?" replied Priss. "That's convenient."

     Mackie shrugged. "I've been looking into force fields for a while. I'm trying to come up 
with a way of upgrading the force shield on Nene's hardsuit, so she could move while it's up." 

     "You were?" Nene looked surprised.

     "Your force shield forces you to stay in one place, making you an easier target. If you 
can move and have the shield up at the same time, you become a more effective fighter."

     Nene looked at Sylia suspiciously. "Did you put him up to it?"      

     "I did not," replied Sylia coolly. "Enough about force shields. What else did the students 
say, Mackie?"

     "They discussed a rumor that GENOM was behind VanDell's death. The usual stuff."

     "Did they mention anything about VanDell having any children?"

     "Nope. It wasn't that much of a conversation."

     "Do you think Janie VanDell is Doctor VanDell's daughter?" asked Linna.

     "I think it's very likely," replied Sylia. "MALCORP is expending a lot of resources for a 
single girl. I doubt they're doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. It's quite possible 
that Doctor VanDell continued his work on force shields, and Janie has some of that knowledge."

     "So, What are we going to do?"

     "I'm going to talk to Fargo, and see if I can get some more information out of him about 
MALCORP's search. I'm also going to look at that data disk later this evening. The rest of you 
stay available. If I decide to rescue Janie VanDell, we may have to move quickly."

     They all nodded. Sylia saw Nene look at her pleading for help of some sort. She has 
something on her mind she wants to talk to me about, but doesn't want to talk about it in front 
of the others. 

     As if by a signal, Mackie pushed his plate away. "That's it for me tonight. I really have 
missed your excellent cooking the last year, sis."

     "Are we all finished dinner, then?" asked Sylia. 

     The others murmured they had, and Sylia stood and began to gather plates. "Nene, help me 
clear the table and prepare some coffee. The rest of you, go into the living room. We can 
continue our discussions there."

     Mackie, Linna, and Priss disappeared into the living room, leaving Nene and Sylia alone. 
Neither said a word until all the dinnerware was taken into the kitchen. As Sylia started to 
load the dishwasher, she asked Nene "Now, What do you want to talk to me about?" 

     Nene took a deep breath. "What I didn't want to tell you in front of the others is there's 
another officer in the computer security office. In fact, he's my subordinate."

     "Oh? What's his name?"

     "Alan Tremolini. Linna knows him, even dated him a couple of times, but she doesn't know 
him well enough to help me."

     Sylia's eyebrow went up. "A man Linna doesn't know well? Interesting. What's exactly wrong 
with Alan?"

     "He makes me uncomfortable." Nene described the conversation she'd had with Alan that 
morning, including his detection of her break-ins into the ADP's computer system.

     Sylia finished loading the dishwasher, started it, then moved over to the coffee maker. 
"Finding someone who is as good as you in computers might have something to do with your 
discomfort," she said calmly, adding several scoops of coffee to the coffee maker. "Did you 
review his service record?"

     I pulled it this afternoon." Nene gave Sylia a wan smile. "And I didn't even have to hack 
into the system to get it." The smile faded. "After reading it, I'm not sure what to make of 
him."

     "In what way?"

     "Well, you know that ADP usually hires their technical support personnel directly from the 
colleges and technical schools. I doubt we have six months of street experience in the entire 
support staff."

     "But Alan has street experience?"

     "Five years on the street before a medical condition forced him to transfer to technical 
support."

     "What medical condition?"

     "I don't know. His record doesn't say. When I asked him about it this morning, he got 
defensive about it."

     "How did he react when you told him you were taking over as department head?"

     "He sounded relieved. His medical status won't permit him to take over as permanent
department head, and the job is too big for two people, let alone one."

     Sylia filled the coffee maker with water and turned it on. "How good is Alan with 
computers?"

     Nene shrugged. "From What I've seen of him so far? Better then most of the ADP computer 
types. He knows computer security better then I do."

     "How does he react to the changes in the ADP the last two years?"

     "Like Leon. He holds the current chief in contempt. He knows what's it like to be out 
there."

     "Please get the cups out of the cabinet, Nene." Sylia retrieved a tray from an over-
head and placed it on the counter.

     Nene placed the cups on the tray. "So, any advice on how to handle him?"

     "Have you given any thought to who you're going to have on your Cracker team?"

     "Huh?" Nene looked puzzled. "What does that have to do with Alan?"

     "Well," replied Sylia, placing a small pitcher of milk onto the tray. "Someone who is well 
up on computer security would be a great asset to the team."

     "Sure. But would he do it? Or would he go to the chief?"

     "You said he holds the chief in contempt, and he's an experienced street officer. Don't 
you think he'd jump at a chance to help his fellow officers?"

     Nene nodded slowly, then comprehension dawned on her face. "And if he's part of the team, 
he's less likely to pay attention to any hacking I do, because I can tell him it's part of the 
cracker operation."

     Sylia nodded. She poured the now brewed coffee into a silver coffee pot. "The first thing 
you have to know about leadership is using the strengths and weaknesses of the people you lead 
to your best advantage." She picked up the tray. "I think it's time to rejoin the others, Come 
along." 



Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters
Tinsel City
December 21, 2035
8:37pm 

     "What are we going to do with MALCORP's hired dogs?" asked Hachio Ozu, the head of Gulf 
and Bradley's security for Japan. He was a short thin man, with a moon face and a perpetual 
scowl. He was dressed in a somber suit, and he stalked back and forth in front of Carlton 
Bradley's desk like a caged tiger.

     "We have no indications that MALCORP has any idea where the girl is," replied Cora 
tersely. She sat on the small couch at one end of the office, and glared at the other two 
occupants of the office. Carlton knew she was still smarting from the talk he had with her 
several hours before about the VanDell girl.

     "With the amount of money Mallory's throwing around, it's only a matter of time before 
someone puts two and two together." He stopped pacing, and leaned on Carlton's desk, and stared 
at his boss. "I've received information that MALCORP's brought in the Black Knights to handle 
the retrieval."

     Carlton leaned back in his chair, and stared at his security chief for several seconds. 
"What would you recommend?" he asked slowly.

     "We should eliminate as many of MALCORP's street operatives as quickly as we can."

     Carlton looked over at his sister. "What do you think?"

     "I agree." Her glare had soften, but her voice was still hard. "A few dead bodies might 
cool the ardor of the survivors long enough to finish retrieving the rest of the data from the 
girl's mind."

     Carlton nodded, and looked up at Ozu. "Do it. Choose half a dozen target and eliminate
them."

     Ozu straightened. "I can use my contacts inside GENOM to arrange the details."

     "No." Carlton stood slowly. "Our agents inside GENOM are too valuable to waste on such an 
effort."

     "But if we make it look like GENOM did the eliminations, it'll distract the others."

     "Quincy would never use anything directly traceable to GENOM in such an operation."

     "Then What do you suggest?"

     Carlton turned to look at his sister. "How many modified C-class Boomers are ready for use 
right now?" 

     "Five."

     "I want four of them ready to go out tonight." 

     "To do what?" Cora looked suspicious.

     Carlton smiled. "I want them to recruit and lead some of the street hoods against 
Mallory's people. Just the type of thing Quincy would think of."

     He turned to look at Ozu. "Make sure they have untraceable weapons to distribute to the 
ones they recruit."

     Ozu nodded. "And after the hoods take out their targets?"

     "We'll keep them around for a day or two, just in case we have to eliminate more of 
Mallory's people. After that, dead hoods can't tell anyone anything, can they?" 

     The smile on Cora's face was chilling. "I like it. It'll muddied up the waters long enough 
to finish up our plan."
  
     "In that case, Sir," said Ozu. "I'd better start putting this operation into place. If 
you'll excuse me." He turned and strode out of the office. 

     Neither sibling said anything until the door closed behind Ozu. Cora stretched, and stood 
up slowly. "Have you considered my plan, brother dear?" she asked lazily.

     He sat down and leaned back in his chair. "I have. And I think it's a good one, especially 
in conjunction with the killing of Mallory's people."

     "Then, I can go ahead with it?"

     "Yes, but be careful. How long will it take you to be ready?"

     "Six hours." She walked to the door. "It'll take that long to shape the 33S's features to 
match Janie's, plus the necessary reprogramming to simulate the girl's personality."

     "Very well. Just make sure that nothing can be traced back to us."

     "Don't worry, Brother," Cora said, smiling as if she was a child with a new toy. "I'm 
always careful." 



MALCORP Regional Headquarters
Tinsel City
December 21, 2035
10:15pm 

     Leon opened his eyes slowly, blinked twice, then groaned loudly. He shielded his eyes from 
the glare of the overhead lights, and struggled to sit up. It took him three tries before he 
managed to sit up on the couch he'd been sleeping on. 

     To put it mildly, he felt like hell. His mouth was dry and bitter, and his head felt as if 
it had been stuffed with burnt cotton. He leaned forward, but instantly regretted do so when a 
sharp stab of pain shot around his temples. He gripped the sides of his head with his hands in 
a vain attempt to keep his head from splitting.

     "Welcome back to the land of the living, rookie," said a familiar voice from less then a 
meter away.

     "Jeena?" he asked quietly, his tongue rasping like sandpaper inside his mouth.

     "It's me." Her voice sounded amused. "You know, I thought you'd outgrown the stupid 
stunts, but I glad to see you haven't. Sorts of restores my faith in Mankind."

     "Do you have any water?" Leon asked, not daring to look up at her. His head hurt too much 
to move it unnecessarily.

     "I can do better then that, Leon," she replied. She tapped the back of his left hand with 
something. When he turned his hand palm up, she dropped a pill into it. "Take this. It should 
clear up the worse of the hangover in about ten minutes."

     He looked at the small red pill in his hand. "What is it? Poison?"

     "Ah, I'm glad to see the youthful naivete has finally given way to cynical realism." She 
handed him a cup of water. "Down it with this."

     He swallowed the pill, chased it with most of the cup's contents, and passed the cup back 
to Jeena. He flopped back onto the couch, and turned his head slowly to look at his old 
partner. "Nice to see you again," he said slowly.

     She looked much the same as she had when Leon had seen her last. Tall, broad-shouldered, 
with long dark hair cascading down her back, and more then pleasant features, she looked 
happier then the last time he'd seen her. The empty sleeve was the result of a rampaging 
Boomer, then a fusion Boomer that had absorbed the cyber-limb she'd used after the loss of her 
organic arm.

     Her office had a mix of the modern and the unusual. It was twice the size of the ADP 
chief's office, and more impressive. The floor was covered in a thick gray carpet. Three of the 
office's walls were paneled in a dark colored wood, while the far wall was nothing but floor to 
ceiling windows. From this angle, Leon was impressed at the view of the city he could see.

     The desk Jeena was leaning against was wide, solid, and looked to made of wood. The chair 
behind it was large and high-backed, with bulges that promised lumbar support. A head of a 
Boomer, a BU-55C by the look of it, sat on the edge of the desk, its dull red eyes staring at 
him. A neat bullet hole in the middle of its forehead gave a clue to how it'd ended on her 
desk.

      The wall behind the desk was covered with pictures highlighting Jeena's career in the 
army, ADP and MALCORP. Leon thought he recognized himself in a couple of photos, but he wasn't 
sure. A low, three shelved, bookshelf sat below the photos, filled with books of all sizes and 
colors. On top of the bookcase, the arm of another Boomer, a C-class, was standing inside a 
glass case. Someone had bent down the fingers of the Cyberdroid's hand, leaving only the middle 
finger pointing straight up in an obscene gesture.

     "Same here." She was dressed in a worn blue jumpsuit with the empty sleeve pinned up near 
the shoulder. "How's Boomer busting going these days?" 

     "Lousy," he replied. "The Boomers get nastier, and we get more paperwork instead of ammo." 

     She nodded solemnly "That's What I've heard."

     "I take it you showing up at the bar wasn't a happy coincidence, was it?"

     She smiled at him. "I still have friends inside ADP. They let me know you were not in a 
happy mood this morning. After that, it was just a matter of checking your favorite bars until 
we found you."

     "Who's we?" Leon asked, sitting up slowly and putting his feet on the floor. "GENOM?"

     Jeena managed to look hurt. "The day I work for GENOM is the day the devil has to shovel 
snow in order to get to his mailbox. No, these days I work for MALCORP."

     "And who is MALCORP?"

     "North American Megacorp, based in Philadelphia, on the east coast of the United States. 
They only have a few holdings here, but they friendlier then Quincy's bunch."

     "That's like saying a shark is friendlier then a piranha."

     "Maybe, but these people has played straight with me for the last five years." Jeena 
stopped leaning on the desk. "But I'm not here to discuss MALCORP's ethics, pure as they seem 
to be. I have a job offer for you."

     "Work for MALCORP?"

     "I can use you Leon. It'll be like the old days."

     "Sure, chasing Boomers all over MegaTokyo is my idea of fun."

     "Pays better then ADP. I make three times What I did as a ADP officer, plus I still have 
my medical pension."

     Leon stood up slowly. He legs were shaky at first, but they steady after a few seconds. 
"Perks are better too, right?"

     Jeena smiled. "Much better."

     Leon shook his head. "Sorry, I'm not interested. I don't trust any Megacorp as far as I 
can throw them."

     "I understand. What are you going to do next?"

     "Get drunk again, and stay drunk for a while. Then, in a week or so, I go look and see 
who's willing to hire an ex-ADP inspector."

     "Why not here?" she asked, waving her hand around the room.

     Leon's eyes widened. "You're kidding, right?"

     "I'm serious." She walked behind her desk and sat down. "Right now, I need someone like 
you for a special job. One that will pay you half a million Yen, make you feel a lot better, 
and make my boss ecstatic."

     "Who do I have to kill?" he asked sourly.

     "That's the best part. Not a soul. This is a missing person case, and you know the streets 
as well as I do."

     "Then why don't you go out looking for this person?"

     "I'm in charge of the search." She waved her hand. "I can't go out on the street."

     Leon walked over to the windows and stared out into the night. "Who's the missing person? 
A scientist working on an important project?"

     Jeena smile lost some of its sparkle. "A fourteen-year-old by the name of Janie VanDell. 
She was kidnaped from her home three and half days ago. Her trail has been traced to here."

     "Are you sure it's a kidnapping? Maybe she ran away."

     "In my experience," Jeena replied carefully. "Runaways don't kill three quarters of a 
security team, blow a hole ten feet square in a brick wall, and shatter the house's security 
system. And do all of that within three minutes." She leaned back. "Someone snatched her, 
someone who's good at this type of job."

     "Who are her parents?"

     "Her father was Doctor Nathan VanDell. He had his own high tech company located near New 
York City. Did a lot of freelance work for different companies. Very successful at it, from 
what I've been able to gather. Her mother's a school teacher."

     Leon looked at her. "You referred to Doctor VanDell in the past tense." 

     He died hours before Janie was kidnaped."

     "An accident?"

     "There was an explosion at his lab. The explosion wasn't an accident."

     "What's MALCORP's interest in all this?"

     "MALCORP itself has no interest in Janie VanDell. But Greg Mallory is using MALCORP to 
find her."

     "All right, I'll rephrase the question. What's Greg Mallory's interest in all this?"

     "A fair question," replied a new voice from the doorway behind Leon. "And one that 
deserves an answer." 

     He turned slowly and saw a tall, lean man with mismatched eyes. The expensive suit he wore 
was well tailored to his frame. He strode into the room as if he owned it, moving gracefully 
towards Leon. 

     He held out a hand "I'm Greg Mallory, President and CEO of MALCORP."

     "Leon McNichol." The handshake was firm, but not overpowering. "You were going to tell me 
What the deal was with Janie VanDell."

     Mallory nodded. "Would you care to take a seat?"

     "I think I prefer to stand."

     "Very well. You don't mind if I sit down, do you?"

     "Go ahead."

     Mallory sat on the couch and stared at Leon. "I think it's time I lay down all my cards, 
Mr. McNichol. Jeena, I think you should hear this also. What I'm about to tell you should not 
be repeated beyond this room. Understood?"

     "If it doesn't affect public security, or lead to a crime."

     "Fair enough." Mallory leaned back and relaxed. "You had a problem with force shield 
equipped Boomers last night, am I correct?"

     Leon shrugged. "Jeena told you."

     "She did. Well, for the moment, imagine every rampaging Boomer with such a shield. In 
fact, imaging fighting a Boomer with a shield strong enough to shrug off anything short of an 
orbital particle beam."

     Leon stared at him. The suggestions sent a chill down his spine. "You're serious."

     "Very. Last night was the beginning." Mallory's voice was calm and direct as he continued. 
"Doctor VanDell had developed a design for a force shield generator that is smaller, more 
powerful, and can be mounted on a Boomer or Hardsuit."

     "But Doctor VanDell is dead."

     "And the plans for the shield generator were destroyed in the explosion, along with Doctor 
VanDell and most of his assistants. Janie VanDell is the only one who has the necessary infor-
mation to build such a generator."

     "A fourteen-year-old has that knowledge?" Leon looked skeptical. 

     "She has a photographic memory, and she worked on her father's notes for the design. 
That's why she was snatched. And that's why I want her back before those bastards tear her mind 
apart to retrieve the information."

     "And What does MALCORP get out of it?"

     Mallory smiled. "Short term? Not a damn thing. My one and only concern is rescuing a lost 
and scared fourteen-year-old from some nasty people. I want her returned to her mother, safe 
and sound. She's been through enough hell for now, don't you agree?"

     "What about long term?"

     Mallory's smile faded. "On the business side, MALCORP has a thirty per cent stake in 
VanDell's company. I don't like people stomping around on my turf, thinking they can get away 
with such hideous crimes. There are jackals out there that would seize on any weakness they 
saw, real or otherwise. MALCORP takes care of their own." 

     "Personally, I've know Janie since she was a baby." His tone became harder, and Leon heard 
some of his host's suppressed anger seeped into his words. "She's the brightest, most sweet 
natured teenager I've even know. She wouldn't hurt a fly, Mr. McNichol. She wants to be a 
doctor when she grows up.Am I making myself clear here?"

     Leon nodded. "I hear you." Either this guy is an incredible actor, or he's telling me 
the truth. And I think  he's telling me the truth. "And respect your reasons. I'll help."

     "Good." Mallory stood up, and glanced over at Jeena. "Pay him what our top freelancers are 
getting. You can start right now, Mr. McNichol." He extended his hand to Leon again, and Leon 
took it. "Jeena will give you all the details. Good evening."

     He turned and strode out of the office. Leon watched him leave before he turned to Jeena. 
"Is he always this...."

     "Direct? Damn right he is."

     "Do you believe him?"

     She nodded slowly. "His reputation among the rank and file workers is incredible. He 
demands loyalty from the people who work under him, but he returns that loyalty tenfold. 
MALCORP doesn't use people up and spit them out like GENOM does."

     "Sounds too good to be true."

     "He is." Jeena stood. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry, and I don't want to brief 
you on an empty stomach. Care for a late dinner?"

     Leon's own stomach indicated it was empty. "Fine by me," he said with a smile. "You 
buying?"

     "I think I can squeeze it out of my budget." Her own smile was lazy. "After which we can 
go back to my place and I can fill you in on ALL the details."

     "I'd better start after dinner, or your boss is going to be wanting details to why I'm not 
out on the street."

     Jeena laughed. "Spoilsport," she said lightly. "But you're right." She linked her arm 
through his, and led him to the door. "Come on rookie, and tell Auntie Jeena all about your 
love life."



Chapter 9



Coastal Highway 
December 21, 2035
11:02pm

     Sylia drove her bright red Mercedes-Benz with the coolness of a professional driver. The 
traffic was light for this time of night, and she made good time. She pressed down on the 
accelerator, and the car leapt forward, taking her closer to her meeting with Fargo.

     His call came shortly after ten o'clock. The dinner party was winding down, and so were 
the guests. Both Linna and Nene had to work tomorrow, which meant they would have to leave 
soon. Priss glanced at the clock every few minutes, but made no attempt to leave. So, they sat 
and listen to one of Linna's stories about her new boss.

     When the portable phone rang, the conversation stopped. They all looked at the phone 
sitting next to Sylia. They all knew it was a special line, its number known only to the people 
in this room, and one other.

     Sylia, sitting on the couch, reached behind her and picked up the hand receiver. "Yes?"

     /Hello, Sylia./ said the dry toned voice of Fargo.

      Sylia stood and walked away from the others. "I was just thinking of you," she said 
quietly.

     /Really? I must be finally getting to you./

     "I doubt it. It probably something I had for dinner."

     There was silence for a moment, the Fargo said, /I deserved that, but I need to see you, 
in person. This is important./ She caught some tension in his voice.

     "Are you in trouble?"

     /No. But the outfit you represent might be. I had a visit from some guests from outside 
Japan, and they were most insistent that I pass something on to you./

     "Where and When?"

     /Niko's Pool hall in District 6. Corner of Flower Blossom and Twenty-seventh. Eleven 
thirty. When you get here, I'll buy you a Golden Unicorn./

     Sylia nodded. He'd given the all clear signal with the last sentence. Sylia hated Golden 
Unicorn beer, and Fargo knew it. Had he offered to buy her one of favorite drinks, she would 
have know then it was a setup. It was a long winded way of doing business, but necessary.

     "Eleven thirty is fine. See you there."

     /I can hardly wait./

     Before she put the receiver back, Sylia knew the evening was over for them. 

     Nene made the first move. She glanced at her watch, and said, "Is that the time already? 
I'd better get going. I don't want to spend my first day in charge of the Computer Security 
Department half asleep."

     "Who would notice the difference?" asked Priss, standing up. She stretched slowly. "But 
little Miss Cyberpunk is right. I've got leads on a couple of bands that need a singer, and I'd 
better follow up on them now."

     Linna nodded. "There's an early meeting among the brokers tomorrow. I'd better leave 
also." She turned to Nene. "Do you need a ride home?"

     Before Nene could say anything, Mackie said, "I'll take her home, if that's all right with 
her."

     "S - sure," Nene managed to stammer out. "That's if it all right with Sylia." 

     "Don't look at me," replied Sylia, with a smile. "Mackie's a big boy now. He doesn't need 
my permission to do anything."

     "Then I'll get my coat." Nene leapt out of her chair and disappeared into the hall closet, 
while Mackie stood and picked up a set of keys from a desk drawer. By the time Mackie was 
ready, Nene had secured her coat, and was waiting for him at the door.

     "Be back in a hour," he called out to Sylia as they both went out the door. The door 
closed quietly behind them.

     Priss smirked. "I don't think so," she said.

     "I'm sure Mackie will be a gentleman," said Sylia, standing.

     "He seems to have matured in the last year," said Linna. "He didn't even try looking down 
my blouse once the entire night."

     Priss shrugged on her biker's jacket. "Maybe so, Linna, but if he tries that stunt with 
the cameras in the changing room again, I'll break his nose."

     "I don't think that will be a problem," said Sylia. 

     Sylia escorted them to the front door. "I have no idea what Fargo wants," she said. "But 
make sure you have your signal devices handy, just in case we have to move fast."

     "Yes, mommy," said Priss over her shoulder. "Do you want us to look both ways when we 
cross the street too?"

     They said their good-byes at the door. After Sylia ushered them out, she walked back into 
the living room and quickly cleaned up. Thirty minutes later, she was behind the wheel of her 
Mercedes-Benz, heading towards the location Fargo had given her.

     After twenty minutes, the exit she wanted come up and she took it, careful to watch her 
rear mirror for any signs of a tail. Five minutes later, the pool hall came into sight.



Niko's Pool Hall
District 6
December 21, 2035
11:33pm 

     Fargo leaned over a pool table, and lined up his shot. With a flick of his wrist, he 
tapped the dull white cue ball right where he wanted it to go. It struck the seven ball, 
changed direction, and tapped the eleven ball into the side pocket. With a smile, he remarked 
the tip of his stick, and looked for his next shot.

     There were only half a dozen people in the room this late at night, but Fargo had chosen 
the table farthest from the front door out of habit. The smoke hung thickly in the dimly lit 
room, leaving a haze that swirled around the lights that hung over each table. Most of the 
sounds heard were the clicks of balls striking each other and the murmurs of the players as 
they stalked around the tables looking for their next shot.

     "Not bad," said a cool voice from the other side of the table. Fargo looked up at the 
familiar voice, and saw Sylia standing there, looking as cool and elegant as always.

     "I try."

     "What did you want to see me about?"

     "I have something for you." He retrieved an envelope from his inside coat pocket and 
handed it to her. "I was given this to give to my Knight Saber contact."

     She looked at it. "Any idea What it is?"

     "I was told in no uncertain terms that It was none of my business."

     "Who gave it to you?"

     "That's the interesting part." He leaned over the table and made another shot. "Two 
gentlemen wearing hardsuits found me and handed it to me, with the clear instruction that it 
was to be turned over to my Knight Saber contact, and no one else."

     Sylia allowed her surprise to show briefly before she ruthlessly suppressed the feeling. 
"Describe the hardsuits."

     "I can do better then describe them," replied Fargo as he lined up another shot. "I can 
tell you who they are."

     "All right. I'm listening."    

     "Care for a game?" He waved to the pool table. "It would look less suspicious if we played 
while we talked."

     "Very well." Sylia removed the long heavy coat she wore, revealing a subdued business 
suit. She draped the coat over a nearby chair, and removed a cue stick from a rack on the wall.  
She examined the stick carefully, then nodded to Fargo.

     Fargo reracked the balls, and put the cue ball down on the spot marked for it. He stepped 
back, and waved to Sylia. "Ladies first."

     She stepped up behind the cue ball, and lined up her shot. With a smooth motion, she 
struck the white ball. The neat triangle of colored balls shattered into its individual pieces 
as the white ball crashed into it. Fargo's eyes widen as three of the balls disappeared into 
the table's pockets.

     "I take it you don't need any tips in shooting pool," he said in a resigned tone.

     "You take it right," she replied, her eyes scanning the table. "Who are they?"

     Fargo leaned on his stick and watched Sylia. "They call themselves the Black Knights. They 
operate mostly in North America, and have been around for the last three years or so. My 
sources say they're very good, and their hardsuits are top of the line."

     "How many in the team?"

     "Hard to say. Anywhere between six to twelve, maybe more."

     Sylia found her shot and sank the fourteen ball in a corner pocket. "That's not much 
help," she said, not looking up.

     Fargo shrugged. "They're just as camera shy as the Knight Sabers are, and less forth-
coming." 

     "What type of jobs do they handle?"

     "Boomer rampages, and some mercenary work. But they're real choosy about who they work 
for."

     "Do they do any work for GENOM?"

     "That's a definite no. Not from a lack of trying on GENOM's part, mind you. But the 
Knights refuse to have anything to do with GENOM, or most of the other Megacorps. They have 
done jobs for Green Food, MALCORP, Barrow-Parks-Hollister, and USSD in the past."

     Sylia looked up at him. "MALCORP?"

     Fargo nodded. "Yea, MALCORP. There's a rumor that they bungled a mission in MegaNew York a 
couple of days back. The rumor also said that the mission involved MALCORP and Janie."

     Sylia found and moved to her next shot. "Speaking of which, What's the latest on MALCORP's 
search for Janie VanDell?"

     "They still searching. They've managed to narrow the field of who could be behind the 
snatch somewhat, but there's still major players left on the list."

     "Who are the top five?"

     "GENOM or a GENOM-related company have three of the slots, with Yoshri Electronics and 
Kingside Miltec running a distant second."  

     "I'm not convinced it's GENOM, or the others you named." Sylia's next shot removed the 
three ball, and set up her next shot. "Who are the wild cards?"

     Fargo paused in thought. He leaned on his stick and stared at the table. After several 
seconds, he said "Only one springs to mind - Gulf and Bradley Japan."

     Sylia looked up. "Oh?"

     Fargo nodded. "About three months ago, the G and B Japan division got a new head man. Name 
of Carlton Bradley."

     "Related to the late chairman of the board, Carson Bradley? The one killed in that 
terrorist attack in Houston a couple of years back?"

     "His son. Word is that he's a cold blooded son of a bitch. The current CEO of Gulf and 
Bradley, his uncle, wanted him as far as possible from the center of power as possible. So, he 
dumped him here, and hoped him and Quincy would tangle." 

     Sylia sank the five, seven, and ten balls in quick secession. "I thought GENOM and Gulf 
and Bradley were allies."

     "Not after the death of Carson Bradley. Janson Bradley dislikes his nephew, but he hates 
GENOM more. After that superboomer project, Janson cut all ties to GENOM."

     "I'm surprised Janson hasn't met with an accident yet."

     "Only because Carlton and his sister Cora would inherit the corporation if Janson dies. 
Janson hates GENOM, but he's smart enough not to oppose them, if he can avoid it. Carlton 
doesn't seem to have that sense of survival, and his sister is worse. The last thing Quincy 
wants is warfare between GENOM and Gulf and Bradley, but if those two get control, warfare is 
what he'll get. Even now, there's a shadow war going on between them here in the city. Nothing 
serious yet, but I don't know how long it'll stay that way."

     Sylia missed the four ball, and stepped back. "Could Carlton have arrange the kidnapping 
of Janie?" 

     "Possible," replied Fargo, moving down the table to examine a shot. "Though his sister is 
more likely to be the brains behind something like that. She's twisted enough."

     Fargo's shot bounced slightly off target, and he stepped back again. Sylia sank three more 
balls in rapid secession. "Has MALCORP looked at Gulf and Bradley Japan yet?"    

     "Not yet. They're still concentrating on the top five."

     In a rapid flurry of shots, Sylia ran the rest of the table. As the last ball sank into 
the pocket, she replaced the stick in the rack and picked up her coat. "Thanks for the game."

     He looked at the empty table and smiled at her. "You're welcome. Just be careful out 
there, OK?"

     "I always am. Call me if anything else turns up."



Outside Niko's Pool Hall
District 6
December 21, 2035
11:58pm 

     The air was cool compared to the Pool hall's, but it was cleaner and fresher. Sylia turned 
up the collar of her coat, and began the short walk to her car. This was not a nice area of the 
city, and she didn't care to hang around any longer then she had to.

     The light in the area was indifferent at best. Most of the lampposts were without power, 
lightbulbs, or the inside wiring. There were very few cars, older models for the most part, 
parked along the street. The street was deserted, and the only sounds beside her footfalls were 
distant and without definition. But something gnawed at her, and she stopped, and surveyed the 
area around her. Something was wrong. She could feel it. But What?

     She reached into her coat for the large semiautomatic pistol she had just started carry-
ing, when she heard the sounds of shots, muffled by the buildings around her. A long, high 
pitched, ripping sound of at least two machine guns, punctuated with the thundering booms of a 
heavy caliber pistol. They were coming from the pool hall, and the glass in the Niko's front 
door shattered as a wild shot passed through it.

     Fargo! He's in trouble! She spun, the pistol out and ready to fire once a target 
presented itself. When none did, she started back towards the pool hall at an uneasy jog.

     She'd covered half the distance to the damaged door when an amplified electronic voice 
shouted "SYLIA! TWO HOSTILES AT SEVEN O'CLOCK, ADVANCING ON YOUR POSITION!"

     Without thought, she turned and started tracking the closer of the two figures running 
towards her. They had appeared from an alley half a block down the street. In the dim light, 
all Sylia could make out was they both male, wore the worn clothing of street people, and 
carried assault rifles.

     The N-Police on some type of raid? she thought. Where are the sirens, and the 
uniformed officers?

      "AD Police!" she yelled at them. "Identify yourself!"

     The nearer figure stopped fifty meters away, snapped the assault rifle he carried to his 
shoulder and opened fire. The muzzle vomited flame, and a high pitched ripping sound started. 

     Damn! That answers my question! Sylia dropped to one knee and fired twice, the flat 
crack of her pistol startling in the once silent night. Her target folded over and collapsed, 
the rifle falling out of his hand and clattering on the street. Without pause, Sylia started 
tracking the other target. Before she could fire, the figure threw himself into a darken door-
way thirty meters down the street from her.

     Sylia scramble towards the nearest cover, a decrepit looking van, just as the other figure 
opened fire. She felt the slugs slam into the other side of the van, and heard the windows 
shatter under the storm of lead. Good thing they lacked the power to punch through both 
sides of the van, or I would be dead now. 

     When the shooting paused, she leaned around the end of the van and snapped off three shots 
in the direction of the doorway. The reply was prompt and the van took several dozen more 
rounds. Sylia shielded she head from the rain of shattered glass fell on her. I can't stay 
here too much longer, she thought quickly. I don't have enough ammo for a long fight, 
and the N-Police will be here soon. I wish -

     "SYLIA! STAND BY FOR INCOMING!"

     She was startled by the voice that had warned her seconds before. She had just enough time 
to realize that her benefactor was now joining the fight before she hear the sound of a missile 
screaming down from above her. The doorway across the street exploded in a mass of white 
flames, shattering windows and rattling walls. The van trembled under the shock wave, and Sylia 
was knocked to the ground.

     Gritting her teeth in determination, she got to her feet, her pistol still tightly gripped 
in her hand. Her head hurt, and she felt sick to her stomach. She took a deep breath, and 
started to cough as she took in a lungfull of dust. She leaned against the van until the spasm 
stopped. Her eyes were watering, and she fought the temptation to black out.

     "Sylia!"

     She looked up and saw Fargo charge out of the pool hall, a semi-automatic pistol in one 
fist, a machine pistol in the other. He saw her and jogged over to her, his eyes roaming the 
surrounding area with the practice of someone well versed in urban combat.

     "Are you all right?" he asked her, and Sylia noted real concern in his voice.

     "I'll live," she replied in a rasping voice. "What happened in there?"

     "After you walked out, two of the other pool players pulled out machine pistols and tried 
to kill me." There was no bravado in his voice, just a simple tone of explanation. "They came 
close too." He looked around. "They tried to kill you too?" 

     Sylia nodded. "We better get out of here before the police show up." 

     "You're right," he said, putting his own pistol away. He wiped his fingerprints off the 
machine pistol before he dropped it onto the sidewalk. "Can you drive?"

     "No, you drive Fargo," said an electronic voice from above them. 

     Fargo had his pistol back in his hand with amazing swiftness, and pointed it at a shadow 
looking down at them from the roof of the pool hall. "Who the Hell are you?" He shouted.

     The shadow stepped off the roof into the air. It fell until a set of thrusters flared to 
life, slowing the decent. It landed with ease several meters from the front door of the pool 
hall.

     Both Sylia and Fargo stared at the hardsuited figure striding towards them. For a moment, 
Sylia thought it was a Knight Saber hardsuit, but after a closer look, she saw it was more 
angular then the suits she designed. It was burnished Black in color, with dark gold highlights 
glinting in the flames from across the street. The helmet was fashioned to resemble a medieval 
Knight's helmet. There was a small insignia of a Black knight's head on a gold shield on the 
hardsuit's right breast. 

     "You can call me Knight One, Fargo," said the person inside the hardsuit. "And you can put 
that gun away. We are on the same side here."

     "Are we?" replied Sylia, feeling stronger. "That missile you fired nearly killed me."

     "I had limited choices. That one wasn't human, but a modified C-class Boomer," Knight One 
replied carefully. "I couldn't hit it from my position with my other weapons and be sure I 
could eliminate it before it move in to finish you off."

     "So, why are you here?" asked Fargo. "Just passing through?"

     "I wanted to make sure that the note my people gave you made it to the right people." He 
reached out and plucked something off Fargo's coat lapel. Sylia's eyes narrowed as she saw 
something small in Knight One's metal fingers.

     "A transmitter!" snarled Fargo. He leveled his pistol at Knight One's helmet. "Why don't I 
shoot you now," he growled. "And leave your body here with the others?"

     "For one thing, that pistol won't penetrate this armor," replied Knight One in a cool 
voice that, despite the electronic filtering, Sylia found familiar somehow. "Also, the N-police 
will be here in a minute and half, and you don't have the time to waste. I'm monitoring the 
police traffic right now. Drive yourself and your contact out of the area now, or spend the 
rest of the night trying to explain to the police what happened here. Your choice."

     "He's right, Fargo," said Sylia slowly, putting her pistol away. "We don't have time to 
discuss anything right now." Including how you know my name, she added to herself.

     Fargo hesitated for a second, then nodded, and put his gun away. "This isn't over, Knight 
One," he said with a growl.

     "Make an appointment with Mr. Mallory tomorrow," replied the hardsuited figure. "And you 
can complain directly to him. I'm here under his orders, not yours."

     "Let's go," said Sylia, grabbing Fargo by the arm and pulling him towards her car. By the 
time they reached the Mercedes-Benz, the sounds of sirens could be heard. Sylia tossed Fargo 
the keys and they climbed in. 

     Knight One watched them drive off before he activated his thrusters and shot into the air. 
He landed on the roof of the opposite direction that Sylia and Fargo had taken. Two buildings 
later, he stopped and watched the lights of the oncoming police vehicles. Let's see if I can 
draw off some of the police response from the area and give Sylia a chance to get clear.

     When the first of the police helicopters swept into the area, he didn't try to hide from 
them. He stood in the open and allowed himself to be seen. As soon as the helicopters swung 
round, he took off running, ignoring the amplified orders to halt and surrender.

     You and I are going to have a long talk, Sylia. He thought. Assuming I don't get 
killed or captured by the police in the next twenty minutes.



Chapter 10



Coastal Highway 
District 6
December 22, 2035
12:14am

     They passed a dozen police cars speeding in the opposite direction, sirens screaming, and 
lights flashing. Fargo kept the Mercedes-Benz just below the speed limit, not wanting to 
attract any attention. Sylia looked out her car window, the chilling blast of cold air helping 
to clear the last of the shock from her mind.

     Finally, Fargo said, "Are you all right now?" 

     "Better then I was. Any signs of pursuit?" 

     Fargo looked in the rear view mirror. "No," he said after several seconds. "Looks like we 
got clear." 

     "Good." Sylia thought for a moment. "Any idea what that was about back there?" 

     He shrugged. "Could be a number of things, but if it's anything else but the Janie VanDell 
matter, I'll give up drinking." 

     "Any idea who the two that tried to kill you were?" 

     "Nope. They didn't carry ID, and they didn't bother introducing themselves before the 
opened fire." He hesitated, looking for the right  words. "What about the one you shot?" 

     "You mean the one I killed?"  

     "Are you sure you killed him?" 

     "I'm sure." She looked out the window. "But I didn't get the chance to check the body." 

     "They weren't professionals. If they had been...." 

     "We would be dead. I think you're right. Someone is worried MALCORP's getting close to the 
truth about who has Janie." 

     "Looks like it." Fargo looked grim. "And I don't think I was the only target tonight."  

     Sylia nodded. "They must have followed one of us to the pool hall." 

     "Most likely me," said Fargo grimly. "I'm the one with the visibility here. They probably 
figured you were my MALCORP contact, and decided to take both of us out now."

     Sylia said nothing, but continued to stare out the window. The image of the hitman in the 
street doubling over and collapsing to the ground ran over and over in her mind. Was there 
something else I could have done? Maybe if I'd run.... 

     "Are you all right?" There was genuine concern in Fargo's voice. 

     She turned to stare at him. "The attacker I shot. I was just thinking about him." 

     Fargo nodded. "Have you ever killed someone before tonight?" 

     Sylia thought of Brian Mason, the look of surprise on his face when he realized he was 
dying. She closed her eyes. "Yes. It took me a long time to get over the nightmares. But I 
don't want to talk about it." 

     "I understand." Fargo was silent for a minute. "Just tell me this. The person you killed 
before tonight - did they deserved their fate?" 

     "Yes," she whispered. "He deserved his fate. He was trying to kill me at the time." 

     "And the one you shot tonight. Did he try to kill you before you fired at him?" 

     "Yes." 

     "I see." Fargo was silent for several minutes. "Do you still feel like you should have 
done something else, like run away?" 

     She flinched, and her expression was startled by Fargo's question. "How did you know what 
I was thinking?" 

     "Because at one time, I thought the same thing." He glanced at her, making sure he had her 
attention. "I wasn't always What you see here, Sylia. Like you, I have secrets, and I've done 
things I'm not proud of."

     "We all have."

     "All I can say is, as long as you feel something, you're human. When you stop feeling, 
then you become nothing more then an organic Boomer."

     Sylia nodded. "It doesn't lessen the feelings."

     "Well, look at it this way - if they had killed us, they wouldn't have any thoughts of 
remorse. We did MegaTokyo a favor when we eliminated them from the gene pool."

     "I don't want to talk about it anymore. Who was our hardsuited ally? That was one of the 
Black Knights?"

     "Not only one of the Black Knight, but the leader himself. Which means MALCORP is not 
taking any chances with the Knight Sabers. They've brought in their own team to do the 
retrieval work."

     The conversation died after that. Both were involved with their own thoughts. Fargo took 
the next exit, and after ten minutes, pulled into a parking garage. He found an empty parking 
space and parked the car.

     He turned to look at her. "Feel well enough to drive yourself?"

     She nodded. "What are you going to do?"

     He opened the door. "Do What I do best, hide in the shadows. I'll contact you if I come 
across anything, but I think it's best for both of us to lay low for the time being."

     "I can't do that."

     He nodded. "In that case, watch your back. There's no telling who out gunning for us."

     She nodded. "Good luck, Fargo."

     He smiled at her, that smug smile he used whenever he started his attempts at seducing 
her. "How about a kiss for luck?"

     "No chance."

     He sighed expressively. "Story of my life. Stay safe, Sylia." With that, he got out of the 
car and walked away. By the time Sylia got out of her car, he had disappeared into the shadows.



Coastal Highway 
District 4
December 22, 2035
12:29am 

     Priss twisted the accelerator, and her bike increased speed. She leaned forward to 
decrease drag, and smiled. Her speed was well over a hundred and fifty kilometers per hour now, 
and slowly increasing. The traffic was nonexistent at this time of night, so Priss had no 
worries about having to weave through knots of slower cars and trucks.

     After several minutes, she eased off the throttle. Even the thrill of high speed seemed to 
have lost most of its adrenaline rush. She saw an exit leading to an unfinished overpass, and 
took it. Close to the edge, she stopped the bike and cut the ignition. She slowly slipped the 
helmet off head and stared out into the lights of the city.

     Damn it, Leon! she thought. Where the hell are you? 

     She wasn't certain What surprised her more - the fact Leon had quit the ADP, or the fact 
she was out looking for him. She shook her head. He can't be getting to me, can he?

     She had checked out several of his usual hangouts, with no results. No one had seen Leon 
in over twelve hours. She even went by his apartment, but after picking the lock, she found no 
signs that he'd been there since yesterday.

     After several minutes, she put her helmet back on, and restarted her bike. There were 
several other places she hadn't checked yet, and her temper wasn't getting any better. She 
slowly turned the bike around, and started back down the ramp.

     Don't get yourself killed, Leon, she thought, as she turned back onto the highway, 
and accelerated. I want to that myself.



Coastal Highway 
District 6
December 22, 2035
12:34am

     After Fargo had faded into the darkness of the parking garage, Sylia got behind the wheel 
and started the engine. In a matter of minutes, she was back on the highway. Once she had 
settled into a comfortable speed, she reached down and dialed a number on her portable phone.

     The phone rang several times before someone answered it. /Hello?/

     "Nene?" Sylia wasn't certain of the voice on the other end of the line.

     /Sylia? What's wrong?/

     Sylia nodded to herself. It was Nene, but she sounded tense for some reason. "I ran into a 
problem tonight after I met with Fargo."

     /Are you all right?/

     "I'm fine. And no, the problem wasn't Fargo."

     /Then What did happen?/

     "I'll fill you in later. I'm going to need data on the local operations of Gulf and 
Bradley, and anything you can scrape up on a North American mercenary outfit called the Black 
Knights."

     /How soon do you want this data?/

     "As soon as possible, I'm afraid."

     There was silence on the line for several seconds, then Nene said, /I can start the 
process going right now, but I have no idea how long it'll take./

     "That's all I ask." A sudden suspicion formed in her mind. "When did Mackie drop you off?"

     /Mackie? Er...well...um...about an hour ago...I think. Hold on./ Sylia could hear the 
muffled sounds of Nene talking to someone, and that someone answering back. She smiled. Priss 
was right. I hope you know What you're doing, little brother.

     After several more seconds, Nene spoke into the receiver. /He left...er...about an hour 
ago. He...said something...about wanting to see the city again before he went home./

     "I see. If you see him before I do, tell him I'm trusting his judgment tonight."

     /His judgement?/ She sounded surprised. /Er...yes, I will...if I see him, that is.../

     "Good night, Nene."

     /Good night, Sylia./

     Sylia sighed as she put the receiver away. Just don't do anything you'll regret in the 
morning, you two.



Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters
MegaTokyo, Japan
December 22, 2035
12:37am 

     The phone rang, jolting Carlton Bradley out of a sound sleep. He took his feet off the 
desk, leaned forward, and glared at the phone for two more rings. He reached out and answered 
it, making sure the video feed from his side was cut off. "Yes?" he said curtly. He didn't want 
anyone to know he'd been sleeping instead of working - it would send the wrong message to his 
workers.

     /This is Ozu. First phase of Operation Lumberjack has been completed with a seventy-five 
per cent success rate./ 'Lumberjack' was the codename for the elimination of Mallory's street 
agents. Carlton hated the name, but had said nothing when Ozu had named it. 

     "What happen to the operation that wasn't successful?"

     /Team 1 was eliminated. It looks as if they ran into trouble with their target. Apparently 
he was meeting with a MALCORP contact, and the Boomer decided to take both targets out after 
they separated./

     "Did they manage to eliminate either target?"

     /No, Sir. Two of the team were eliminated by the target, while a third was liquidated by 
the target's contact./

     "What about the Boomer?"

     Ozu paused. /We think either a member of the Black Knights or the Knight Sabers was in the 
area, and removed the Boomer./

     Bradley's jaw tightened. "Who was the target that escaped?"

     /A man called Fargo. He's a freelance underworld contact. He might do some work for the 
Knight Sabers, but we're not certain. Do you wish to activate the fifth C-series Boomer, and 
send it after him?/

     "No. If he's as good as we think he is, he'll drop out of sight, and we don't have the 
time or the resources to dig him out. Order the other three teams to eliminate the second group 
of targets. We will activate the fifth Boomer, but I want it to fill in for Team 1."

     /Understood sir. What about the Black Knights and the Knight Sabers?/

     Bradley glanced at the clock, and he was surprised at the time. "Leave the Black Knights 
and Knight Sabers to my sister. Her operation is about to commence."

     /Yes Sir. Anything else?/

     "Not for now. I will be joining you in the command center in fifteen minutes. I want to 
see how my sister's plan works, in person."

     /Yes sir. Fifteen minutes./

     Carlton replaced the receiver and stood up. Let's see how your plan works, dear 
sister.




	

		
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