STORM WARNING
Chapters 1 - 5
A Bubble Gum Crucible/Highlander Xover Fanfic - Third in the Series
By Craig A. Reed Jr. (trboturtle@aol.com) |
Bubble Gum Crisis is copyrighted Artmic Inc. and Youmex, Inc.
Highlander, the specific concepts of Immortality, the characters of Duncan MacLeod, Amanda,
Joe Dawson, and the Hunters are the property of Rysher Entertainment. I am just borrowing
the characters for a little while for non-monetary reasons. I can be contacted at the Email
address above. C&C will be accepted, out and out flames will result in a Boomer or two
being sent after you.
Please, enjoy my take on the Bubble Gum Crisis universe.....
Chapter 1
Somewhere in Northern Korea
April 5, 2036
3:45pm
He smelt the smoke before he came within view of the monastery.
The wind was coming off the mountain this time of the year. It passed through the narrow
cleft in the rocks that allowed the path to continue up to the monastery. The smells the wind
carried were clear and distinctive.
He stopped and sniffed the air like a wild animal, his mind racing to place the odors he
detected. His posture, which had been relaxed and easy now became tense and alert. He gripped
the sheathed sword tightly in both hands, pulling the blade halfway out of its sheath before
gently returning it.
He was of medium height, broadshouldered and thick waisted without having any excess
weight on his frame. He wore his dark blonde hair long, and sported a thin mustache and beard.
His face had the harshness of people who spend most of their time outdoors, and his eyes were
a clean deep green in color.
He was dressed for the mountains' cold in thick native clothing that made him look like
a rotund native at a distance. He wore a pair of thick gray woolen pants and shirt over thermal
underwear. Over that, he wore a thickly padded winter coat, thick felt boots, fur gloves, and
a thick fur cap.
He thought back several hours to the last village he'd passed through, located at the base
of the mountain. There was a feeling of unease among the villagers when he mentioned in passing
that he was going to the Chun-Ji Monastery. He hadn't really taken notice of the awkwardness at
the time, but he was wishing that maybe he should of.
I should have asked some more questions, he thought, slipping the compact backpack
from his shoulders. Because there's something wrong, I can feel it. He hid the backpack
in a small crack near the cleft and covered it with a small pile of rocks. He would retrieve it
later, if he could.
Holding the sheathed sword in his left hand, he stepped into the cleft, and continued up
the path. He was alert, moving quickly, but quietly up the well-worn path. The silence around
him was total, imposing a stark feeling of being alone that he shook off with great difficulty.
Several minutes later, he emerged from the other end of the cleft, and found himself at
the gates of the Monastery. As soon as he saw the monastery's twisted main gates, he knew there
was trouble. The knowledge became certain when he failed to feel the presence of other Immortals
this close to the walls.
He unsheathed his sword, and tucked the wooden sheath into his belt. The sword was about
a meter long, single edged, with a slight curve in the blade. The hilt was made of a plain, but
solid, dark hardwood, and was long enough to hold with two hands. There was no hilt guard, the
wider hilt the only thing that protected his hands, along with his own skill. He'd used this
sword for over a hundred and fifty years now, and it had never failed him in that time.
Holding the sword in a ready position, he slowly approached the gates. The smells were
stronger now, and his jaw tightened as he reconized them. A mix of scents that he had become
all too familiar with, ones from the battlefield. He'd hoped he would never smell such odors
again, but they were always identifiable.
A quick visual inspection of the gates told him that someone had used explosives to breach
them. This wasn't an accident. Somebody attacked the monastery with modern weapons. He
stopped near the gates for a second and listened for any sound. When he heard nothing, he moved
quickly through the gates.
He had been expecting it, but the sight inside the walls still sickened him. A dozen
bodies, all dressed in the loose robes of simple monks, were scattered around the open court-
yard. Several of the trees that grew there had been torn apart by intense firepower. The stones
of the walls and the ground showed severe heat scars.
He knelt to examine the body nearest the gate. The monk lay on his back, staring up into
the sky with empty eyes. He gently closed the man's eyes, said a quick prayer over his body,
then stared at the large hole in the monk's chest. He moved on to the next body, then the next,
each time saying a quick prayer before he examined the body. All were dead from shots that had
punched right through the chest.
After he examined the last body, he strode towards the center of the courtyard. The court-
yard was wider then it was long. It was bordered on three sides by the monk's sleeping quarters
on the right, the storage rooms and workshops on the left, and the temple itself before him.
He smelt the smoke from several fires that still smoldered inside the structures.
He stood and stared at the structures, remembering what Master Chang had told him the
first time he stood here, all those years ago. The monastery, the Master had told him with
evident pride, had been in existence for over seven hundred years. During that time, it had
survived several wars, weathered several occupations from both external invaders and internal
political extremists, and never had been swayed from its path of spiritual enlightenment.
But it couldn't withstand an assassination squad of Boomers, Master, he thought,
as he felt the tears well up. The signs clearly pointed to being a Boomer attack. The monks
never had a chance. It is good you are not here to see this now.
But where were the other Immortals who were staying here? Went after the Boomers? Such
an attack would have been serious enough to track the culprits, but to leave the bodies like
this? A sudden thought gripped him, a certainty that chilled him more then the cold air.
He ran to the temple, taking the steps two at a time. The temple doors lay in several
pieces around the entrance, shattered by great force. More Boomer handiwork, he thought.
He slowed and approached the entrance carefully. His sword was gripped tightly in his hands,
but he didn't know how useful it would be against a Boomer.
As soon as he looked inside the temple, he knew his worse fears had occurred. The other
immortals hadn't left the monastery. They were still here - or at least their bodies were.
Someone had taken their heads, and with the evidence of their arms tied behind the back, they
never had a chance to defend themselves.
His heart pounded, and his mouth went dry. His friends, fellow Immortals, killed like
animals, and on holy ground. He couldn't bring himself to enter the temple, so he counted
the bodies from the doorway. He counted seven bodies, the same number of Immortals who were
currently living at the monastery.
He heard something moving behind him, and his instincts took over. He spun quickly, the
sword a blur of steel. The figure stepped back, the sword missing it by a full meter.
"Hold your sword, Jason Storm," the figure said calmly in Korean.
Storm blinked. He lowered his sword, and stared at the monk standing in front of him.
"Master Cho?" he asked uncertainly, also in Korean.
Master Cho nodded. He was several centimeters shorter then Storm, spry for a man in his
mid sixties. His robes were stained and dirty, and his usually cheerful face was drawn and
grim. "You must calm yourself, Jason," he said slowly in English. "This is not the time for
anger."
Storm slumped against the wall, his face showing relief and concern. "Master, are you
all right?"
"I will live."
"What happened here?"
"I am not certain. I was visiting several of the villages on the far side of the mountain."
"Someone attacked this monastery using Boomers."
Master Cho nodded. "I arrived here less then an hour ago, and found this." He waved a
hand to encompass the entire courtyard. "I was checking the sleeping areas when you entered."
"The immortals are in there," said Storm weakly, pointing inside the temple.
"I know," said Choir sadly. "Someone with knowledge of Immortals, yet not Immortal
themselves did this deed."
Storm nodded slowly. No Immortal, no matter how craven, would dare fight on holy ground,
let alone take a head. "If not immortals, then who? The Watchers?"
"Not exactly." Cho shook his head sadly. "I fear that the Hunters are
again back to plague both immortals and Watchers."
The Hunters. Renegade Watchers who had forsaken their oaths of not interfering in the
Game, and killing those Immortals they could. They followed no code, observed no rules in
their efforts to eliminate what they saw as a threat to humanity. The last group of Hunters
had been put down about twenty years ago.
A thought occurred to Storm. "How many Watchers were at the monastery?"
"Just myself and Brother Ko." Cho looked at Storm carefully. "You do not think -"
"No, I don't, Master." Storm stopped leaning against the wall, and stood up straight.
"Brother Ko's body is out there in the courtyard, and from the blood around him, he did not
die alone." He looked at Cho. "And I've know you for thirty years, Master. This type of hate
is not in your soul. While I have never like the Watchers, I know that neither you or Brother
Ko would be a part of this...savagery."
Cho nodded. "What do we do now?"
"First, we bury the bodies and perform the appropriate ceremonies." He came over and
placed a hand on the Monk's shoulder. "You must get word to the other Immortals who trained
here. Tell them what's happen here, and warn them of the danger. Then, you must hide. Is
there somewhere you can go where you will be safe? This place won't be until I track down
the people who did this."
Cho nodded. "There is a temple in a village south of Seoul. I can go there and remain
hidden until it is safe. From there, I can pass the word along to the other Immortals with
little risk to myself." He looked at Storm. "I can not change you mind? You will go after
these Hunters?"
"I must, Master. Not only are you and I in danger should these attacks continue, but
other Immortals and Watchers are at risk."
"I can not condone the violence you will commit, but I can not condemn it either. Do not
let anger blind you, Jason. That has always been your greatest weakness."
Storm nodded. "I will heed your advice, Master. This will a challenging time for all of
us."
"Come, Jason," said Cho. "There is much work to do, and time is short for both of us."
District 2
MegaTokyo, Japan
April 10, 2036
1:45am
Priss gunned the engine, and the motorcycle shot forward. Under her helmet, she was
grinning madly. A quick glance down at the speedometer informed her she was traveling well
over a hundred kilometers an hour. Traffic was light at this time of night, making the job
of avoiding cars much easier.
She felt good. The night's performance at Hot Legs had gone better then expected. In
fact, she couldn't remember having a better time singing, of connecting so well with the
crowd. Even the band, who had been hesitant about letting her back into the band full-time,
enjoyed themselves tonight.
Greg Mallory was keeping his promise not to interfere with the day-to-day running of
the club. The new Manager he'd hired to run the club, a tall, quiet guy by the name of Toshio,
stayed in the shadows unless there was a problem. At Leon's suggestion, Toshio also hired
two other bands, and set up a rotation so everyone got two nights off a week. A better sound
system was added to the revamped stage, and the club remodeled to take the edge of decay off
the place. Once everything was in place, Leon would only drop in a couple of times a week to
"check the books". He would sit at the bar and watched her sing, but otherwise, he stayed in
the background. Jeena Malso was even less visible, her job at MALCORP occupying most of her
time.
But if Leon thinks I'm going to throw myself into his arms, he's out of his mind,
she thought. Still, he hasn't asked me out in over two months, not since that run in with
Nemesis at the Fu-Shui nightclub. And I have been saving all these great one-liners to shoot
him down with too.
Priss was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn't notice the large black car taking the
off ramp ahead of her. Had she taken notice then, later events might have turn out differently.
Joe's Bar
Seacover, USA
April 10, 2036
11:49pm WST
The vidphone buzzed twice before the bartender picked it up. "Joe's Bar," he said quietly.
/Is Joe Dawson there?/ asked a voice with a trace of accent the bartender couldn't place.
The screen showed an Asian man, maybe in his mid sixties, looking tired and grim.
"Who's calling please?"
/An old friend. Sung Ill Cho, from Korea./
"May I ask your business with Joe?" replied the bartender warily.
/Tell him that there's been a development in the Horton matter./
The bartender stiffened. "I see if he's available." He placed the vidphone on hold and
waved to the other bartender to take over. He moved to the office door, and knocked quietly.
"Come in," a muffled voice said.
The bartender entered and closed the door. "There's a phone call for you, sir."
Joe Dawson looked up from the desk. "Who is it, Phil?"
"A Mr. Sung Ill Cho. I think he's a Watcher, sir."
Dawson snorted. "I'm retired, and enjoying my last years going slowly mad. I don't give
a damn about -"
"He told you to tell me there's been a development in the Horton matter."
Dawson looked sharply at him. "I'll talk to him."
"Yes sir."
The bartender left, and Dawson slowly reached over and turned the vidphone on. The image
solidified into that of a tired and grim looking Asian male. /Joe?/ he asked respectfully.
"Cho!" said Joe, trying to sound cheerful. "I haven't heard from you in a long time.
What's up?"
The faint trace of a smile flittered across the Asian's face. /I see age has not slowed
you any. I only wish I had good news for you./
"You mentioned something about a development in the Horton matter. Don't tell me we have
a problem."
/We do. The Hunters are back./
Joe felt his chest tighten at those words. "Are you sure?" he asked slowly.
Cho nodded. /They attacked and eliminated the Chun-Ji monastery in Northern Korea several
days ago. They used Boomers and machine guns to kill the monks, then beheaded the Immortals
staying there./
"Damn. Did any of the Immortals escape?"
/One did. Jason Storm was away from the monastery at the time, as I was. He has already
left to pursue the people responsible for the attack. I am currently in hiding./
Joe leaned back in his chair, feeling tired. "Why call me? I'm retired from the Watchers."
/And thus above suspicion,/ replied Cho. /The only way the Hunters could have learned
about the monastery was from our secured files. Someone with access to those files has to be
a Hunter, or in league with them./
"So, the at the very least, the entire Asian sector security is compromised." Joe leaned
forward again. "What do you want me to do?"
/Pass the word along to those `special friends' of yours. Jason Storm lives up to his
name, but he is only one man. He might need some help./
"Where was Jason headed?"
/He managed to trace some of the Boomer pieces we found to a factory in MegaTokyo. He is
there now./
"I'll see what I can do. Are you safe for now?"
Cho nodded. /I will not call again. It will be safer for both of us./
"Good luck, Cho."
/Good luck to both of us./
The vidphone went dead, and Joe Dawson leaned back in his chair and cried softly. After
several minutes, he dried his tears and punched a phone number into the Vidphone. He could
cry later. Now, he had a job to do.
Chapter 2
District 2
MegaTokyo, Japan
April 10, 2036
2:23am
This area of District 2 was a wasteland, nothing more then a blank spot on most maps. The
locals called it the `Badlands', and avoided it always. A few gangs claimed it as their turf,
but none of them really pushed the issue. In short, it was the perfect place to dump a body.
A dark colored car moved down one of the few dirt roads that crisscrossed the area,
sending dirt spraying out into the night air. Its headlights caught flashes of junked cars,
and other refuse that had accumulated over the years. The sound of its engine was swallowed
up in the stillness of the night.
It slowed to a stop near a burnt out van. Three men got out, and carefully scanned the
area. After several seconds, one of the men leaned inside and spoke to someone still in the
car. A fourth man stepped out, holding a young woman by the arm.
The woman was scared. She tried to pull away from the man that held her, but the man
yanked her towards him. He gripped her jaw in his other hand. "There's no escape from you
fate, dear Natalia," he cooed. "You're going to die. Accept that."
"But why, Mr. Tarson?" the women whimpered. "I told you, I won't tell anyone what I
overheard."
"I can't take that chance," replied Tarson, his voice sweet and sickly. "You might tell
Mr. Faust, and I can not allow that."
"But why would I tell Mr. Faust? I've never even spoken to him!"
"Poor Natalia." Tarson shook his head. "You made a mistake by being in the wrong place
at the wrong time. You overheard everything."
"But I don't understand -"
Tarson gripped Natalia's jaw tighter. "But Faust would. All it would take one slip of the
tongue in his presence, and he would suspect my plans. I can't allow that."
Tarson shoved the woman away. She fell heavily into the dirt, knocking the breath from
her body. In the defused light from the car's headlights, she looked desperately at Tarson.
He was threading a silencer onto a semiautomatic pistol. "I sorry it's come to this,
Natalia. You were an excellent assistant, and I'm sorry to loose you this way."
"Please, sir I...."
Tarson pointed the pistol at her, and fired two rounds into her chest. She cried out in
pain as the bullets hit her, and she fell down. The white blouse she wore rapidly turned red.
Tarson stared at her for several seconds, then shot her twice more. She shuddered as the
bullets hit her, then she went limp, her eyes open and unseeing.
Tarson looked at her body for several more seconds, then motioned to the other to get
back into the car. After they left, silence returned to the Badlands again.
Flight 2445
Over the Pacific Ocean - Three Hours from MegaTokyo
April 10, 2036
2:43am
"Mr. Macleod?"
Duncan stirred under the gentle touch of the stewardess, and he opened an eye to look
up at her. "Yes?" he asked quietly.
"There's a vidphone call for you, sir. A Mr. Dawson. He insisted it was very important."
Duncan opened both eyes and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He nodded to the stewardess.
"Thank you, just give me a minute to wake up."
"Very good, Sir. It's Vidphone station number two, all the way back, and on the right."
It was then that Duncan became aware of Amanda's head on his shoulder. He looked down at
her. She'd returned to the platinum blonde look she'd given up about thirty years ago. She
looked like an innocent angel sleeping there, but that image was as false as her hair color.
He moved slowly, easing out of his seat. Amanda opened her eyes slowly. "Watsmatter?" she
asked sleepily.
"A call of nature," he assured her. "Be back in a couple of minutes."
Amanda closed her eyes again and went back to sleep. Duncan nodded to the Stewardess
again, and walked slowly back to the Vidphone station. He sat down on the small seat in the
booth, and closed the door. The screen was flashing INCOMING CALL. He pushed a button, and
the image of Joe Dawson appeared.
He looked old and tired, and Duncan winced at the sight of his old friend. "Joe!" he said
cheerfully. "To what do I owe the honor of your call?"
/Do you have a scrambler handy?/ asked Joe quietly.
"Right here." Duncan pulled a small module from his coat pocket. "What's wrong?"
/Plug it in, and set the scrambler for your birth year./
Duncan did so, inserting the module into the space reserved for such a device. A red
light lit up, indicating that the module was receiving power. He punched in the four digit
code, and waited for three seconds for the scramblers to synchronize with each other.
When the red light changed to green, Duncan spoke. "OK Joe, what's going on? These in-
flight calls are expensive."
/Tell me about it. But believe me, this is important. The Hunters have surfaced again./
"Damn." Duncan looked at Joe closely. "This isn't a sick joke, is it?"
Joe shook his head. /An old friend of mine call me several hours ago with the news that
someone attacked Master Chang's monastery, in Northern Korea. They killed everyone, including
the Immortals training there. I made some calls to other friends in the know I can trust, and
they confirmed my old friend's story./
"How does your old friend know it's the Hunters?"
/Because whoever attacked the monastery used Boomers in the attack, along with mortals
with machine guns. Also, all the Immortals were beheaded inside the temple./
"It certainly sounds like Hunters. Thanks for the warning."
Joe held up a hand. /Wait, Duncan. There's more. My friend also told me that one of the
Immortals was away when the monastery was attacked. He's currently in MegaTokyo, trying to
track down the people behind the attack./
"Who is it?"
/Jason Storm./
Duncan's mind drifted back, back to a time over a hundred years ago, and half a world
away....
FRANCE 1917
The village consisted of half a dozen destroyed buildings, and a church that had seen
better days. The ground around the village was a sea of mud and shellholes, and the few trees
still standing were nothing more than shattered remains of their previous splendor. The sky
was overcast, and rain was softly falling.
The Hospital unit Duncan was attached to had set up in the village two hours before. The
latest French offensive had resulted in a flood of casualties, and the doctors were rapidly
being overwhelmed. The dull boom of distant artillery clashed with the sounds of horses, men
in pain, and trucks trying to traverse the narrow lanes around the village.
Duncan was assisting a wounded solider to the dressing station when he felt the presence
of another Immortal. Stopping for a second to get a firmer grip on his charge, he looked around
surreptitiously, trying to locate the other Immortal.
He quickly narrowed the field of possibilities down to one man. Twenty feet away, a
solider was shouting at one of the doctors. The sounds of the battlefield made the man's
words somewhat difficult to understand, but Duncan heard enough to know the man was angry.
He was slightly shorter then Duncan, with broad shoulders and thick waisted. His unshaven
face had the harshness of someone who spend most of their time outdoors, and his eyes were
a clean deep green in color.
He wore the uniform of a French infantryman, but the man's accented French meant he
wasn't a native of the country. From the body armor the man wore, Duncan guessed the angry
soldier was a trench raider - men who infiltrated the No Man's Land to gather intelligence
on the enemy. It was a dangerous job, with few rewards.
Duncan called out to a nearby orderly. "LeBren! Could you take him into the dressing
station?"
LeBren was a tall thin man with a permanent scowl on his face. "What is it?" he hissed.
Duncan motioned to the two arguing men with his head. LeBren glanced over in that
direction, saw the developing situation, and nodded. He strode over to relieved Duncan of
the wounded soldier. As he draped the wounded soldier's arm over his shoulder, LeBren said
in a low voice, "Be careful, Duncan. Men like him are crazy."
Duncan nodded and walked slowly over to the two men. As he got closer, he heard the
solider shout, "...the supplies, and I'll take care of them myself!"
"You?" snorted the doctor. He was short, thin, balding, with a florid mustache. "Are
you a doctor?"
"More of a doctor then you!" shouted the soldier.
"Is there a problem here, sir?" asked Duncan.
The doctor turned to look at Duncan. "Macleod?" He motioned to the soldier. "This idiot
is demanding that I drop everything to look at his men."
"I have four men that need medical assistance, and need it now!" growled the soldier.
"And I have three hundred men that were here before you!" shouted the doctor. "They will
have to wait their turn!"
"Then, give me the medical supplies, and I will take care of them until you can see them!"
"Doctor Debeney," said Duncan. "Let me take a look at his men."
Debeney nodded. "Very well, Macleod. Is that satisfactory, sergeant?"
"For now," hissed the soldier. He turned to Duncan. "I have them resting in the church.
If you will follow me."
The two men walked towards the church. When there was no one near them, the soldier said
in English, "My name is Jason Storm."
"Duncan Macleod."
Jason's eyes widen. "Not the Duncan Macleod?"
"Why, is there more then one running around?"
Jason chuckled. "No, but Master Chang spoke highly of you."
"Master Lee Chang? You're a student of his?"
"For nearly forty years."
"And how is he?"
"He is well."
"Why are you here, in this disaster?"
"Master Chang heard about the War, and he sent me west to find out what was the latest
in weapons and tactics."
They reached the steps leading up into the church. Storm stopped and placed a hand on
Duncan's arm. "The men in there are my friends, and comrades in war. We have fought together
for the last two years. I will do whatever I have to to save their lives."
"I understand."
Storm nodded. "I believe you, Duncan, I believe you...."
PRESENT
The memory faded, and Duncan frowned. "I know him. He won't stop until all the Hunters
are dead, or he is."
"That's what I gathered from my old friend. I thought you should know, since you're
heading that way."
Duncan took a deep breath. "Thanks for the warning, Joe. Amanda and I will be careful."
"I hope so." Joe glanced off screen. "I'd better wrap this up in a hurry. I'll try pumping
my contacts more, and see if I can get anything else of use out of them. I can still get you
at the MegaTokyo Grand?"
Duncan nodded. "I don't want to alter my plans unless I have to."
"All right, later then." Joe gave Duncan a weak smile. "Don't loose your head in the
meantime, OK?"
"Count on it."
Joe broke the connection, leaving Duncan deep in thought. He retrieved the scrambler,
left the booth and returned to his seat. Amanda opened her eyes slightly and watched him
settled back into his seat. She saw the thoughtful look on his face. She leaned over and
whispered in his ear, "What's wrong?"
"Later," he murmured back. "Our vacation may have a element of work involved."
"Damn. That was some call of nature." She laid her head on his shoulder again, and drifted
back into sleep. He looked down and smiled as the innocent angel look appeared on her face
again. He settled back and closed his eyes. There was no telling when he would get another
chance to rest so completely.
Chapter 3
District 2
MegaTokyo, Japan
April 10, 2036
4:37am
GENOM's Boomer manufacturing plant number 5664 was lit brightly, even this early in the
morning. It sat on the edge of the what the locals called the Badlands, a wasteland that no
one really wanted. There wasn't much activity in the complex itself, much to Jason's disgust.
He moved slightly to dislodge a rock he'd been lying on, and stared through a third hand set
of binoculars at the factory before him.
He'd spent most of the last six hours watching the place from a mound of rubble three
hundred meters from the west fence, and received little for his effort. He'd seen only four
humans during his time watching, all security guards who never moved from their posts. Several
other human-looking figures patrolling the compound, and by their size and bulk, he'd guessed
that they were disguised Boomers.
He laid down the battered binoculars and shook his head. Any type of infiltration of the
plant was out of the question. Security was as hard as a rock, and there were too many unknowns
for a single person to handle.
He sighed, and picked up the binoculars. He would have to try another way of discovering
who supplied the Boomers to the Hunters. He slid out of sight of the plant before he stood,
and worked his way down the slope slowly, keeping all noise to a minimum. It was going to take
him at least half an hour to make it back to his car, and he wanted to be well clear of the
area by daybreak.
At the bottom, he retrieved his duster and a small backpack. He slipped the duster over
the dark clothes he wore, then secured his sword inside the long dark coat. He then made sure
that he had easy access to the sword, should he need it. He put on a pair of night vision
glasses, allowing him to see without the use of a flashlight. He then picked up the backpack,
and slung it over his shoulder.
He started off at a brisk walk, with his senses alert and searching for trouble. He knew
the Badland's reputation, and he didn't want to become another victim. He was also alert to
either the Hunters, or another Immortal looking for his head. The last thing he wanted to do
was announce his presence here.
He traveled for twenty minutes with no problems. The night air was still and quiet, but
that would change soon enough. The sun would be up and -
He felt the presence of another Immortal then. Without thought, his sword was in his
hands, and he stopped. This didn't feel the same as most of the others he'd experienced.
There was a newness to it, like a fresh soul. A new Immortal, here?
He moved slower now, shifting his feet carefully on the dirt. After several minutes, he
saw something lying in the grass near a burnt out van. As he got closer, he could see it was
a woman. She was lying on her back, twitching as her body began to heal itself.
He squatted beside her, placing his sword across his thighs for quick access, and took
off his backpack. She looked to be in her mid twenties, tall, slim, very pretty, with long
blond hair, and blue green eyes. Her blouse was soaked with blood, and he could see several
bullet holes centered on her chest. She was close to reviving now, and she would soon join
the Game.
I don't need this now! he thought sourly. I don't have time to take on a
student! I don't WANT a student! I have a mission! But he didn't move. He couldn't walk
away. Master Chang had drilled all his students in the need to help new Immortals. They always
needed help, to understand what they had become, and start learning the skills they needed to
survive. To walk away from her now would be turning his back on his Master's teachings. And
he just couldn't do that.
She opened her eyes then, and inhaled a shuddering breath. Her next several were stronger
and more regular. She finally saw Jason next to her, saw the glint of the blade across his
thighs, and screamed. She tried to get up, but Jason held her gently by the shoulders.
"Who-w-who are you?" she stammered. "Are you here to kill me, too?"
He shook his head. "I'm a friend." He said quietly. "My name is Jason, and I'm here to
help you."
"What happened to me?" Her face took on a shocked look and she felt the front of her
blouse. "He killed me!" she screamed, naked fear on her face. "He sh-shot me!"
"I know. I think we should go some-"
The feeling of another Immortal approaching made Jason's head snap up. Damn!
The woman's eyes went wide, and she screamed, "What's going on? I just felt something.
What is it? What's happening to me?"
Jason gripped her tighter. "I need you to get out of here now," he said calmly and
firmly. "Find someplace where there's people about, A LOT of people. Restaurant, police
station, office building, anyplace like that. If you can't find a place that has people
around, find a church, or a graveyard, or any other Holy Ground. Wherever you go, don't
leave it unless I come and get you, understand?" He slipped a ring off his finger and
slipped it on her ring finger. "Don't take this off until after I've found you, OK?"
He pulled her off the ground. She stood and nodded, some of the terror leaving her face.
"But what's going on?"
"It'll take too long to explain now. If you have another feeling like the one you just
had, run run even harder for any of the places I just mentioned."
"Very wise advice," replied a voice out of the darkness. "But a little too late, I'm
afraid." The tone was arrogant and mocking, and Jason's mouth twitched in irritation.
"Go," Jason hissed to the woman, and she ran off into the darkness in the opposite
direction from where the voice had come from. Jason readied himself for a battle. "Who's
out there?"
A figure stepped into the range of the night vision glasses. He was taller and thinner
then Jason, and he held a katana in his right hand. Like Jason, he wore night vision glasses,
a long leather coat, and a smile that reminded Jason of a cat playing with his food. He stopped
three meters from Jason and bowed mockingly.
"I am Rodney Marder," the newcomer said.
"Jason Storm."
"Ah, I have heard of you. You're a long way from the monastery."
"And I know your reputation. You're also a long way from your usual haunts, Marder.
England run out of new Immortals for you to kill?"
Marder shrugged. "I needed a change of scenery for a while. I thought MegaTokyo was the
best place to loose myself."
"I see you're still carrying Rokujochigusa's katana," said Jason, pointing to Marder's
sword with his own blade.
"This old thing?" Marder held up the Katana. "A fine blade, isn't it? Since Rokujochigusa
had no more use for it, I thought why let it go to waste?"
"You stole the sword," Jason's voice was low and hard. "After you killed Rokujochigusa.
You have no right to have that blade."
"Of course I have a right to this blade, Storm," replied Marder, his voice loosing some
of it mocking tone. "The trial of combat gives me the right to this, or any other sword."
"Brave words coming from someone who hunts new Immortals for their heads."
"It's a living."
"I can't let you take her head. she has to have a chance to learn what's she become."
"Why? Why waste the time to teach them?"
Jason shook his head slowly. "You're beyond redemption, Marder. Time to pay for your
crimes."
"Not tonight, Storm. I have a date with that young lady."
"Hard to have a date when you don't have a head."
"Oh, if you insist." With that, Marder covered the distance between them in a couple of
strides, sword flashing down at Jason's head. Jason blocked the strike, and countered with a
slash at Marder's stomach that he avoided by jumping back.
The night continued to ring with the sound of swords, and brief flashes of sparks that
lit up the night.
District 2
April 10, 2036
5:17am
Priss was traveling at a sedate speed for her, not by choice, but by necessity. The dirt
road she was on was rutted and full of potholes. She wasn't happy, but she had little choice.
Construction had blocked her normal route, so she was forced to travel across the Badlands to
get to her trailer.
The lights on her cycle showed little of the surrounding landscape, which was a blessing
and curse with the landscape she was in. She made sure her pistol was accessible if she needed
it, and continued to scan the night for signs of trouble.
Still, the sight of a woman running out of the darkness ahead of her caught her by
surprise. Priss had to brake hard to keep from hitting her, sending the bike into a hard
slide. She managed to keep the bike upright, and she came to a stop, her bike now perpen-
dicular to the road. Before she could find the kickstand with her foot, the woman was beside
her, a look of terror on her face.
"Help me!" she cried over the sound of the cycle's engine. Priss turned to look at her,
noticed the blood soaked blouse, the woman's wild look, and the fact she was out here at this
time of night. She needed help.
"Climb on!" Priss yelled. The woman hesitated for a second before she complied, climbing
onto the bike and wrapped her arms around Priss tightly. Priss shifted into gear, and the cycle
shot back down the way Priss had come.
Priss cursed the lack of any real roads around here. Driving slowly though this area
during the daytime was hard enough. Driving around here at night, at speed, with a frighten
woman hanging on for dear life wasn't something she'd really wanted to do.
She had to get the girl clear of the area, hopefully before whoever was chasing her
realized she was gone. But what am I going to do with her after I get out of here? she
thought. Take her to the police? She dismissed the idea of the police at once. They're
worse then useless down here.
She slowed the bike, aware that the woman's grip had tighten around her waist. She needed
to find out what was going on first before she made a decision. She left the engine running,
and pulled off her helmet. She turned to look at her passenger, who was still holding on to
her tightly.
"What happened?" she asked gently. Damn it, Linna's the people person, not me! "Were
you attacked?"
"He shot me...He shot me....Must reach holy ground," the woman mumbled. Priss thought
the woman was in shock, but she couldn't tell for sure. There was a lot of blood on the blouse,
but a quick check of her pulse showed it was still strong, if a little fast. She didn't seem
to be shot, but she was scared.
Priss reached a decision. "I'll take you to the hospital," she said, trying to sound
soothing.
The woman shook her head. "Not the hospital. I can't go there. He'll find me, and kill me
again."
"But the blood -"
"I'm all right, just scared and tired." The woman looked over her shoulder into the
blackness. Priss thought she heard the sounds of metal striking metal, but saw nothing in
the darkness.
"We should get out of here," Priss said, turn around and pulling on her helmet.
"Don't leave me, please." The woman sounded desperate, and she was shaking like a leaf.
"Please don't leave me."
"I won't," Priss promised, feeling uncomfortable. "What's your name?"
"Natalia Korsgaard."
"You can call me Priss. I know somewhere you can be safe. Hold on." She gunned the
engine, and the bike shot forward into the darkness.
Neither one saw the large man dressed in black materialize out of the surrounding
darkness twenty seconds later and watch them speed away. He nodded to himself, and a cruel
smile formed on his lips. He glanced down at the small receiver he held, and nodded in
satisfaction at the result it displayed.
He turned and listened to the sounds of the swordfight for a moment before he stepped
into the darkness. If Marder was lucky, he’d take the unknown Immortal’s head. If he wasn’t
lucky – well, he was expendable. He wasn't after anyone's head - at least, not tonight.
Unknown Location
MegaTokyo, Japan
April 10, 2036
5:20am
The phone rang, disturbing the figure in the bed. It reached over and pressed the receive
button, careful not to activate the video feed. "Yes?"
/Hunter One, this is Jager One. We have a report of two Immortals fighting in district 2./
"Any identification on them?"
/One is definitely Rodney Marder. We think the other one is Jason Storm./
"Storm?"
/Our agent can't get close enough to tell for sure./
"We can't take that chance. Scramble Wolfhound and Foxhound teams. I want both of them
dead, especially if the other one is Storm."
/We're on it./
"I'll be down in ten minutes to supervise the operation myself."
/Yes, Hunter One./
The figure broke the connection, and the figure sat up. Long dark hair spilled over the
woman's face, putting it into deep shadows. "And so it begins," she murmured.
Chapter 4
District 2
MegaTokyo, Japan
April 10, 2036
5:29am
Storm stepped to the side to avoid Marder's overhand cut, and countered with a slash
at Marder's front leg. Marder's Katana flashed down to knock Storm's sword away, but not
before the slash drew blood.
The fight had been close and intense, with both men evenly matched. Jason had the edge
in skill and form. Marder, despite Jason's insults, had more hard won experience. The result
was a stalemate of the deadliest kind. Neither could afford to make a mistake now.
The slash Marder had inflicted across Jason's ribs early in the fight hurt like hell,
but it was healing. Marder had taken some cuts of his own, but they were healing also. Now,
they circled each other, looking for a weakness in the other while planing their next move.
In the back of his mind, Jason heard the sounds of helicopters in the distance. The city
was beginning to wake, and it wouldn't be long before the sun came up. The fight couldn't
continue for much longer, at least not here. Despite the relative isolation of the Badlands,
it was fairly flat and surrounded by a major city. There were plenty of helicopters in
MegaTokyo, and all it would take is one passing close by to spot the combat.
"Thinking about your upcoming death?" taunted Marder.
Jason shook his head, not wanting to waste his breath speaking. He faked a lunge, then
slashed at Marder's face. Marder's head snapped back, the point of Jason's sword missing his
face by less then a finger's width. He stumbled back two steps before he regained his balance,
but Jason was on him with a series of controlled cuts that put Marder completely on the
defensive.
The ringing of the swords and the sounds of heavy breathing was slowly being drowned out
by the whine of the approaching helicopters. Jason risked a glance in the direction, and saw
two large helicopters heading towards them, coming in low and fast. They would be on them in
a matter of seconds.
"We've got trouble," he said to Marder, as he blocked a thrust from the Englishman.
"I know," replied Marder with a snarl, recovering in time to block a cut aimed at his
ribs. "But I can still take your head before they arrive."
The large side door of the lead helicopter opened, and something was dropped, or pushed
out into space. As the object dropped, something flared to life and pushed the object towards
them. A missile? thought Jason, as he blocked several more of Marder's hard cuts No, too slow.
He dropped to one knee, and slashed hard at Marder's ankles, forcing the Englishman to jump
back.
He reconized the object when it covered half the distance between them and the helicopters
A Boomer! his mind screamed, as he leapt to his feet. The Hunters have found us! He reached out
with his free hand and grabbed Marder by his sword wrist. Looking into the other's surprised
face, Jason shouted, "Those are Hunters! They'll kill us as soon as look at us!" He shoved
the other Immortal away and started to run in the opposite direction, stopping only long
enough to reclaim his backpack with his free hand. Then, with long fluid stride, he ran
off into the darkness.
He heard the sound of a machine gun open up behind him, but he didn't slow up, and he
didn't hear the sounds of bullets striking near him. After about a minute, he heard the sounds
of thrusters, gradually becoming louder as they come closer to him. Sounds like at least two
Boomers are chasing me. I can't outrun them. I'm going to have to fight them, but where?
A large mountain of junk rose out of the darkness ahead. Without slowing down, he charged
towards it. He slid to a stop in the dark shadow of the junk heap. A tall chain link fence
separated him from the trash dump, and blocking his escape. There were other piles of trash,
junk, and other refuse beyond the first, and smelled the gagging fragrance that only rotting
garbage can give off.
He glanced around, shouldered the backpack, and swiftly climbed over the fence. Dropping
lightly on the other side, he pulled a large handgun from a holster concealed under his duster.
As he checked the cylinder, the words of the salesman echoed in his mind. "This revolver will
take down anyone, be they human or Boomer," the wizened old man had told him with pride.
I hope you're right old man. I won't get a second chance if you're wrong. He gripped
the handcannon in his left hand, his sword in the right hand. Now I know how a pirate
feels, he thought sarcastically, as he listened for the Boomers.
The thrusters had died away in the early morning air, which meant the Boomers were on
the ground. He didn't wait for them there, but moved farther into the trash dump. He stayed
in the deepest shadows, hoping the surrounding trash would help mask him from the Boomer's
sensors.
For the next ten minutes, it was a cat and mouse game, with Jason in the role of the
mouse. He heard the searching Boomers occasionally as they triggered small trashslides else-
where in the dump, but he couldn't pinpoint their exact location in the darkness. He moved
slowly, staying near the base of each trash mound he passed.
Despite his wariness, the first Boomer he saw almost killed him. As he made his way
between two large mounds of trash, something exploded out of the trash pile to his right,
less the two meters from him. Startled, his mind had enough time to note the red glowing
eyes and dark blue skin as the BU-55C Boomer charged him. Storm heard a low hum as the
Boomer swung a built-in vibrosword at his head.
Jason threw himself onto his back, avoiding the deadly blade. Even as he fell, the
pistol in his hand was up and tracking his target. Just before he hit the trash covered
ground, he fired three times.
All three found their mark. The Cyberdroid's head snapped back as the bullets struck
it. The first bullet struck under the Boomer's chin and exploded inside its mouth, demolishing
the laser mirror before several fragments struck the main motion processor and destroyed it.
The second shot stuck the Boomer below the left eye, while the third shot impacted above the
right eye. These two bullets shredded the Boomer's main CPU in less then a heartbeat. Unable
to absorb such damage, the Boomer's head exploded in a shower of flame and smoke.
Jason didn't bother to make sure the Boomer was down for good. He rolled to his feet and
dashed off into the surrounding darkness. Speed and distance were more important now then
stealth. The other Boomers would converge on the downed Boomer, and start a new search from
there.
He heard the sound of thrusters behind him, but he didn't slow down. It'll be day-
light soon, he thought. And unless the Hunters wanted exposure, they going to back
off. They're the ones running out of time....
Something told him to duck, and he did so. He felt the back of his neck get hot and he
was slightly dazzled as a blast from a Boomer's mouth laser passed through the air where his
head had been a second before. Damn, that was close! Those Boomers reacted faster then I
thought they would.
He scrambled around a rusting refrigerator and stopped. He felt his heart pounding,
and his breaths came in huge gulps. He propped his sword next to him, and broke open the
cylinder on the revolver. He quickly removed the three empty shells, and replaced them with
fresh rounds. Now, what am I going to do?
He glanced around. I can't stay here. Those Boomers can outrun me. So, what is the
thing they least expect? He looked up, and a desperate plan formed in his mind.
Unknown Location
MegaTokyo, Japan
April 10, 2036
5:39am
"Status!" snapped Hunter One, as she stepped out of the elevator and into the control
room.
Jager One turned. He was a short, thin man with craggy features. "Wolfhound and Foxhound
are at the location. Greyhound and Bloodhound teams are on standby."
"What is the latest on the ground?" She asked him, sitting in the command seat in the
center of the room.
"Wolfhound has three BU-55Cs in pursuit of Storm. Foxhound is tracking Marder with a pair
of BU-55Cs. No signs that the ADP is aware of the situation."
"Sir!" shouted a woman manning one of the control boards. "Wolfhound 2 has been destroyed!"
"What?" roared Jager One. "How?"
"Storm shot it in the head with a heavy caliber pistol."
"What in the hell is he doing armed?"
"Storm isn't stupid," said Hunter One quietly. "Of course he armed, you fool."
"The Game doesn't allow Immortals to use firearms against each other."
Hunter One shook her head slowly. "He's not carrying the pistol to use against other
Immortals. He was ready for us."
Jager One turned to another control board. "I'll send Greyhound in to reinforce Wolfhound.
We'll get him."
Hunter One stood slowly. "Countermand that. Greyhound and Bloodhound are to stand down."
The man's eyes bulged in anger. "We can get him!" One more team and -"
"NO!" Her voice carried throughout the room, and everyone turned to look at their leader.
She looked at each of them, making eye contact with each before moving on. "Look at the time,
Jager One," she said calmly. "It is too close to daybreak to take more risks. We cannot afford
the ADP or GENOM knowing of us, or even suspecting our existence."
She turned to the woman who alerted them to Wolfhound 2's destruction. "What is the latest
on Marder?"
"He's close to the major highway. He'll be clear in three minutes."
Hunter One nodded. "Recall Foxhound. Alert the network to be on the lookout for him. What
about Storm?"
"Wolfhound 1 and 3 have converged on 2's remains, and are tracking him now."
"Activate 2's SDU. I don't want to leave anything identifiable for the ADP."
"SDU activated. Self destruction confirmed."
Hunter One turned to Jager One. "Wolfhound has ten minutes to eliminate Storm. If they
haven't done so, recall them, and we'll try another time."
"Is that wise?"
Her stare was searing, and Jager One withered under the gaze. "You're allowing your
emotions to over rule your reason," she said carefully. "We have to lucky only once. Storm
has to stay lucky, but his luck will run out, sooner or later."
The man nodded. "Ten minutes it is."
District 2
MegaTokyo, Japan
April 10, 2036
5:44am
The two BU-55C's cut their thrusters and landed heavily in the area where their sensors
had lost their quarry. They scanned their surroundings slowly, sweeping the area with the
precision that only machines have. They advanced slowly through the trash, their weapons ready
to fire as soon as their target was spotted.
Wolfhound 3 moved off towards the North, while Wolfhound 1 moved west. They had just
receive their orders from their master - if the target cannot be found and eliminated in ten
minutes, about mission, and return to base. Their internal clocks were set and running.
Wolfhound 1 stopped at the base of a large trash heap as its infrared sensors detected
a moving heat source off to its left. The Boomer's left arm snapped up, its laser tracking
the potential target. As it did so, it compared the heat pattern to the ones stored in its
memory, and matched it to that of a small cat. Satisfied it wasn't the target it was searching
for, it lowered the laser and continued its search.
But the distraction was enough. Its seismic sensors felt a vibration in the ground below
its current location. As the vibrations got louder, it tried to match the pattern to one in
its data banks. As it did so, its sensors detected movement coming from above its current
position.
Wolfhound 1's head snapped up, followed by its laser, but it was too late. The avalanche
of trash and other junk smashed into it. The Boomer managed a single shot with its arm laser
before an old, but still solid, refrigerator crashed into it. The impact knocked the Boomer
off its feet into a pile of trash. Before it could recover, it was buried under the rain of
refuse.
Though it was submersed under several hundred kilos of trash, Wolfhound 1's sensors
detected a human sliding down the trash pile, following in the wake of the avalanche. It
quickly decided it was hostile, and struggled to free itself from its entombment. After
several seconds of trying, the Boomer managed to free its right arm, then its head and upper
torso.
As it emerged from the refuse, Wolfhound 1 tracked the rapidly approaching target, and
opened fire with its arm mounted laser. Most of the barrage of shots missed, but two grazed
the target's left arm. The target suddenly shifted to the right, and before the Boomer could
react, gained the cover of an old wooden closet thirty meters from the trapped Boomer.
Wolfhound 1 sent a signal to Wolfhound 3, alerting the other Boomer to the location of
their target. As it did so, the trapped cyberdroid opened its mouth to fire the more powerful
laser at the closet, and the target behind it. A brilliant beam of light shot from the Boomer's
mouth and struck the closet.
The closet was old, the wood dry and cracked, and wasn't much of a shelter. As soon as
the laser struck it, the closet exploded into flames, sending burning pieces of wood in every
direction. The sky lit up with the expanded fireball, and the stillness was shattered by the
thunderclap.
Wolfhound 1's sensors were overwhelmed by the sudden burst of light and sound, so it
failed to immediately detect the figure that flung itself through he fireball. Before the
Boomer could react, the figure rolled to a stop three meters away, pointed a pistol at
Wolfhound 1 and fired six shots into its torso and head.
The heavy caliber bullets punched through the Boomer's armor, shattering electronics
circuits and destroying internal systems. In a matter of seconds, Wolfhound 1 was turned
into a pile of junk no different from the refuse it was buried in.
Jason closed his eyes as the next wave of pain hit him. He gripped the now empty pistol
tightly, not wanting to take the chance of dropping it. Now I know have a marshmallow feels,
he thought grimly.
Between the Boomer's lasers and the exploding closet, Jason figured that maybe fifty per
cent of his body was covered with second and third degree burns. At least I'm still alive -
sort of, he thought. He stared at the dead Boomer half buried in the trash avalanche he'd
started just seconds before.
Only Master Chang's rigorous training over a century and a quarter save Jason from
Wolfhound 3's killing stroke. He heard the hiss of the vibrosword, and he threw himself
forward. He rolled to his feet, ignoring the tidal wave of pain from his burnt body. He
turned and flung the now useless pistol at the boomer, and charged, both his hands gripping
his sword.
The Cyberdroid reacted with extreme speed. After missing with the first cut, it had
lunged after Jason. Its left arm was extended to drive the point of the vibrosword into
Jason's chest. The pistol distracted the Boomer for a fraction of a second, but that's all
Jason needed.
The Boomer's right arm snapped up and out, deflecting the pistol. In that brief instant,
Jason covered the distance between. He stepped to his right, and avoided the stabbing vibro-
sword by spinning to his left. His sword snapped down, the blow aimed at Wolfhound 3's left
knee.
The Boomer's armor had been designed to withstand lasers, bullets, and other forms of
ranged weaponry. But the joints of a Boomer, by their very nature, have neither the armor
thickness nor the structure to withstand a well-placed sword cut. And Jason Storm was an
expert with the sword.
The sword passed through the knee, severing the Cyberdroid's lower leg. As Wolfhound 3
tried to compensate for the sudden loss of a leg, Jason spun and swept his sword up and
through the Boomer's neck. The neck joint offered as much resistance as the knee joint had.
The Boomer's head jumped off its shoulders, and fell away. Spurting fluid and sparking from
live electrical wires, the Boomer's body collapsed into a heap.
Storm stood there for several seconds, breathing heavily. He turned slowly and walked
away. What were you waiting for? A Quicking from a Boomer? Time to move.
He found the pistol, replaced it in its holster, then went and picked up his backpack.
He glanced at the horizon and smiled weakly as the sun started to light up. I'd better
get the hell out of here before the ADP shows up. I not sure they'll accept my reasons for
being chased by three Boomers.
He walked through the trash dump, carefully climbed the chain linked fence that separated
the dump from the street, and walked the several blocks to his car. He unlocked it, and got
in, thankful for the tinted windows. He drove away, making good time on the still deserted
highways. He still felt like hell, and his body was ablaze with pain.
First, I need a chance to rest, and heal. Then, I need to find that girl before Marder
does. After that, I can concentrate on the Hunters - assuming they don't find me first. So much
for a simple search and destroy mission....
Unknown Location
MegaTokyo, Japan
April 10, 2036
5:49am
"Check the reading again!" bellowed Jager One. "Wolfhound 1 and 3 couldn't have been
destroyed!"
"I have checked the readings again," yelled the woman monitoring Wolfhound. "And they
indicate that both units are off line! They are not responding to recall commands."
Hunter One said calmly, "Activate 1 and 3's SDU."
"Activating." There was silence for several seconds. "Wolfhound 1's SDU has activated.
Destruction confirmed."
"What about Wolfhound 3?"
The woman turned to look at her superiors, her face ashen. "Wolfhound 3's SDU is not
responding. I am not receiving a SDU destruction confirmed signal."
"Try again."
The woman turned back to her control board, and tried again. "Negative response, Hunter
One. The link with Wolfhound 3 is definitely non functional."
"Then there is nothing more we can do now." Hunter One turned to Jager One. "Recall all
units. I want them away from there before anyone can find the Boomer's remains."
"What about Wolfhound 3?"
"Alert our agent inside the ADP. When Wolfhound 3 is found, the ADP will be the ones to
retrieve and examine the remains. I want that Boomer back in our hands, or destroyed - ASAP."
"Yes Hunter One."
Hunter One's hard features soften. "Don't blame yourself for this failure. We knew that
Jason Storm was Master Chang's best student. We just didn't know how good he was. That mistake
won't happen again."
"Yes Hunter One. Are we going to look for Storm now?"
"We can't afford the manpower. Alert the sector leaders to keep an eye out for him. If
we can first narrow down the possible search area to several blocks, then we can flood the
area with our people. But not until then." She turned and walked to the elevator. "For now,
we wait."
"What about the strikes against the other Immortals in MegaTokyo?" asked Jager One force-
fully. "Do we continue with them?"
She turned to look at him. "They will be carried out, as planned. No changes."
Jager One nodded. "Understood."
She entered the elevator, and allowed the doors to close before she leaned forward and
sobbed softly. "We had a chance to kill two of them, Thomas," She whispered quietly in the
empty elevator. "And we failed. Can you forgive me?"
Only silence answered her.
Chapter 5
Sylia's Apartment
District 2
April 10, 2036
6:08am
...The light in the area was indifferent at best, most of the lampposts being 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 foot-
falls were distant and without definition. But something gnawed at her, and she stopped, and
surveyed the area around her. Something was wrong, her instincts cried. But what?
She reached into her coat for the large semi automatic pistol she had just started
carrying, 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 poolhall, 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 poolhall 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 males, 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....
The sound of something loud snapped Sylia out of her sleep. She sat up quickly, her
breath coming in quick ragged breaths. It took her several seconds to remember the dream,
and she closed her eyes. Damn! Not again! The event had happened nearly five months
ago, and it still haunted her, like an angry specter, robbing her of sleep.
The banging on her front door alerted her that something was wrong in the real world.
She opened her eyes, and glanced at the clock on the table next to her bed. Frowning at the
display of time, she looked in the direction of the apartment's front door in puzzlement.
Who the hell wants to see me this early?
She got out of bed, and wrapped herself in a thick robe. She hesitated for a second,
then pulled open the nightstand's drawer and carefully pulled out the automatic she'd used
five months ago. A swift double check of the magazine, then a quick pulling back of the
pistol's slide, and she was ready.
She walked slowly to the apartment's front door, holding the pistol along her side. She
glanced at the security monitor located near the front door. Priss was standing there, one
arm supporting another woman around the waist, while pounding on Sylia's front door with the
other.
Sylia pocketed the gun, glided to the front door, unlocked it, and stepped back to
allow Priss to assist her companion into the apartment. Priss look of irritation at Sylia
curtailed any questions, so Sylia closed and locked the front door again before helping
Priss carry the woman over to the couch. As they laid the woman out on the couch, Sylia
noticed the bloodstained blouse for the first time. She glanced up at Priss.
Priss shook her head. "I don't think it's hers. Not that much blood."
Sylia quickly examined the woman. With the exception of shock and chill, the woman seemed
to be all right. She covered the woman with a thick blanket, then motioned to Priss towards
the kitchen. Once there, Sylia filled the coffee machine. "What happened?" she asked, turning
the coffee maker on.
Priss explain the chance meeting on the Badlands, and how the woman had pleaded not to
be taken to the hospital. "She said something about being found and being killed again if I
took her to a hospital."
"Did she give you a name?"
Priss nodded. "Natalia Korsgaard."
"Did she say why she was out there?"
"No."
Sylia removed three cups from an overhead cabinet. "Are you sure she's human?"
"I'm sure."
"Did she say anything else?"
Priss was silent for a minute, then said, "She said something about having to reach holy
ground."
Sylia looked at her. "Holy Ground? Did she say what Holy Ground?"
"No."
"Can you remember anything else that happened when this woman approached you?"
"Maybe." Priss looked uncertain. "When I stopped to find out what was going on, I thought
I heard...what sounded like a swordfight in the distance."
"A swordfight?"
"Or someone banging two metal rods together in an erratic manner. I'm not sure, and I
didn't want to hang around and find out."
Sylia nodded, and poured two cups of coffee. She handed one to Priss. "I'll have Nene
run a background check on Natalia Korsgaard, and see what turns up. In the meantime, we'll
put her into Mackie's room and let her sleep for a while. I'll warn Nene and Linna to stay
away for now, until we know more."
"Fair enough." Priss sipped her coffee. "I'll crash here for a couple of hours, then go
back to my place."
"Let's get our visitor tucked in, then I'll call Nene."
MegaTokyo Grand Hotel
April 10, 2036
7:49am
Duncan tipped the human bellhop generously, then tossed both bags onto the bed. He pulled
a small monitor and scanned the room for listening devices. After a though survey of the hotel
suite, he said to Amanda, "The room's clean."
When she had entered the suite, Amanda had at once gone to the window. She stood there,
smiling at the view that spread out before here. "I can't believe how large this city has
become in only five hundred years."
"Oh?"
"I can remember when this place was nothing more then two dozen huts huddled near the
banks of a river."
"A bit before my time," he said diplomatically. "What were you doing here at the time?"
She turned and smiled at him. "I was seeing what the world had to offer then."
"In transportable wealth?"
She turned and pouted at him. "It wasn't like that."
"Of course not. You always visit poor, out of the way places just for the fun of it."
She came over to him, put her arms around his neck, and said in a husky voice, "I could
say that I wanted to check the rumor that the local ruler had a sword made of pure gold."
He looked down at her, and smiled. "That's more like it. Did he have such a sword?"
She shrugged. "It was only gold plated, and not really worth the effort to steal it."
"You mean it wasn't worth loosing your head over. I know what the penalty was for a
theft like that in those times."
She sighed deeply. "You take the fun out of my stories."
"Just bringing them into some semblance of reality." He untangled himself from her arms
and went over to the window. He placed a small box, about the size of a fingernail, against
the top right corner of the window. He then stood there and admired the view.
Amanda flopped onto the bed and laid there, savoring the comfort. "What did Joe want?"
Duncan turned to look at her. "What?"
"What did Joe call you on the plane about?"
"How did you know he'd called me?"
She sat up and looked at him in disappointment. "When you were asleep, I asked the flight
attendant."
"Oh." He turned and looked out the window again.
"Macleod, what's wrong?"
He couldn't look at her. "The Hunters are back."
"Are you sure?" she asked quietly, the warm feeling in the room dissipating quickly.
"That's what Joe called about. An old friend of his pass along word that Master Lee
Chang's Monastery was attacked last week, and most of the Immortals studying there were
killed."
Amanda climbed off the bed slowly, her face showing shock. "All of them?"
"All except one. Jason Storm was away when the monastery was attacked. He's here in
MegaTokyo right now, tracking the Hunters."
"I don't know him."
"I do. Storm doesn't undertake vengeance lightly. He'll either wipe out the Hunters, or
they'll get him."
Amanda's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "But wasn't Master Chang like Darius? From what
I've heard over the years, he was a holy man."
Duncan shook his head. "Master Chang was a warrior, first and foremost. He spent most
of his life either on the battlefield, or in the monastery. Yes, he taught peace and harmony
like Darius did. But he also taught his students to be warriors, and to survive as Immortals."
"And Storm?"
Duncan smiled thinly. "Jason Storm is probably the best student Master Chang ever taught."
"Is he that good a fighter?"
"Both with a sword, and without. He's spent most of the last hundred years either at
Master Chang monastery, or serving in Special Forces units across the western world. He
could conceivably destroy the Hunters all by himself."
"So why is he here?"
"The Hunters used Boomers in the raid against the Monastery."
Amanda's mouth tightened. "And he's here because he has evidence the Boomers came from
here."
"That's what Joe told me."
"And we're going to look for him?"
"Not unless the Hunters come after us, or we stumbled across Storm."
She smiled lazily at him. "Liar," she said. "So, what are we really going to do?"
Duncan turned and smiled back at her. "For now, we get some rest. Later, I'll check some
sources, then we'll do some shopping."
"Does it have to be total rest?" she asked huskily.
Jason's Safehouse
District 5
April 10, 2036
9:28am
Jason opened his eyes slowly, and stared at the ceiling for several seconds. He closed
his eyes again, and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
Slowly, He raised his left arm until it was perpendicular to his body. He made a fist,
open the hand, then made another fist. It felt stiff, but there no pain.
Satisfied his arm was healed enough to move, he slowly sat up. The areas where he had
been burned severely was now heavily scarred, but that would fade away in another day. He
tested his limbs carefully before he slid out of bed and walked slowly over to the kitchen
area of his safehouse.
His safehouse was the top floor of a small three-story warehouse not far from the
University of MegaToyko main campus. With the help of an account Master Chang had set up
for him, Jason had purchased the warehouse and the surrounding grounds several years ago.
With its location known only to Jason himself, it was the perfect place for him to hide
and rest while he planed his next move.
The third floor was twenty meters wide, thirty meters long, with a line of pillars
running down the middle that separated the room. Half a dozen small windows ran the length
of each longer wall. One half of the room was empty. The other side had a bed against one
wall, a small open kitchen area in one corner, a bathroom in the other corner, and several
chairs and a single sofa clustered the space between the bed and the kitchen. Jason didn't
mind the lack of creature comforts. He had spent most of his Immortal life at the Monastery -
where this would have been considered soft living.
He prepared a small meal for himself, and ate in silence. After he cleaned up breakfast,
he changed into a pair of loose fitting pants. Picking up his sheathed sword, he strode over
to the empty part of the room. He sat crossed legged in the middle of the floor, placed the
sword on his lap, and meditated for fifteen minutes.
As he meditated, his thoughts drifted back to the monastery and Master Chang....
KOREA, 1882
Jason found the master in the small garden located behind the main temple. The older
Immortal was on his knees, gently weeding a patch of brightly colored flowers. He was shorter
then Jason, and wirery. His iron gray hair was cut close to his scalp, and a long whispery
mustache hung below his chin.
"You wish to speak to me, Jason?" he asked in Korean, without looking up from his work.
Jason, use to the Master's abilities, replied quietly, "Yes, Master. I would like to ask
you a question, if I could."
Master Chang straightened, and without effort, rose to his feet. He turned and smiled at
Jason. "And your question?"
Jason took a deep breath. "I have been here for over fifteen years. I have trained very
hard, and have not questioned anything you have asked of me."
"True."
Embolden by his master's interest, Jason continued. "One day, I want to go beyond the
walls of this monastery, and see how the world has changed."
"If you wish to leave, I will not stop you."
Jason shook his head. "Not now. Sometime in the future."
"What is really on your mind?" asked Chang. "You wish to ask something, but you do not
wish to offend me, correct?"
Jason took another deep breath. "You can always read me, can't you?"
Chang smiled "I have a thousand years of experience, Jason." He looked directly into
Jason's eyes. "I see the question you wish to ask. Why have I not taught you how to use a
sword, correct?"
"Yes Master."
"Very well." Without changing expression, the older Immortal fired a hard kick at
Jason's solar plexus. Jason spun away, and came to a stop several feet away, in a fighting
stance. Before Jason could say anything, Chang launched a series of kicks and hard strikes.
Jason blocked or avoided all the attacks, but couldn't counter against the Master's attack.
Finally, a hard side kick blasted through Jason's guard, and slammed into his sternum.
Jason felt his bones break under the terrific impact, and he was flung back several
feet. He landed heavily, the force knocking the breath from his lungs. He blacked out.
He came out of the blackness with Master Chang leaning over him, his face impassive.
"How do you feel?" the older Immortal asked.
Jason got up slowly, holding his sternum. "Lousy."
"It will pass. We will begin your training with the sword tomorrow."
Jason looked up at Master Chang, puzzled. "What?"
The Master smiled. "Before I could teach you how to use a tool such as a sword, we must
teach you how to use your body." He tapped his chest. "Your mind," he continued, tapping his
head. "And your sprit." He reached down and pulled Jason to his feet. "You just now
demonstrated that you have learned to use all three well."
"But you beat me."
The Master looked at him carefully. "Of course. In skill, I will always be better,
because I have trained longer then you. But you shown that you could hold you own against
me, for a little while. Which means there are few people out there that can beat you, if
you fight as hard as you did just now."
"I think I understand."
The Master smiled. "Your body, your mind, and your sprit. Unlike a sword, they are weapons
that can never be taken from you. Always remember that...."
PRESENT
After meditating, he stood, leaving the sword on the floor beside him, and stretched
slowly. It took him awhile to work all the stiffness in his muscles out, but he didn't hurry.
He knew his routine, and knew his pace.
After the stretching came kicking exercises, followed by a series of punching drills. He
then moved into empty handed forms, pausing at the end of each form only long enough to set
himself up for the next one. In each form, he flowed from one move to the next with the
smoothness and grace that comes from continual practice. As he continued, the forms became
more advanced, the blocks and strikes more focused.
By the time he reached for the sword, a thin film of sweat covered his body. He closed
his eyes and drew the sword from its scabbard slowly. After carefully placing the scabbard on
the floor, he stepped back and opened his eyes.
He started working his way through the sword forms with the same preciseness he'd had in
the empty hand forms. Slashes, thrusts, blocks, and cuts flowed from one to the next, each
executed without apparent flaw. As with the empty handed forms, the sword forms became more
complex and each move more important then the last.
When he finished the last form, he relaxed, retrieved the scabbard from the floor, and
sheathed the sword. He left the sword on the bed while he took a quick shower. After the
shower, he came out and fetched box that held the items he used for sword cleaning from the
closet. He sat on the bed, and gently pulled the sword free of the scabbard. Slowly and
carefully, he examined the sword's edge for any nicks or abrasions. Finding none, he cleaned
and polished the sword with the same care and attention to detail he'd used when performing
the forms. When he finished, he returned the sword to its scabbard.
He dressed quickly in a thick T-shirt, blue jeans, and thick soled, steel toed boots.
He doubled checked the revolver he'd used the night before placing it into a holster he was
wearing against the small of his back. Two knives were also checked and placed into sheaths,
one on his left forearm, the other in his right boot. Finally, he carefully put on a light
brown overcoat and secured his sword in the specially made holder inside the coat. He made
several test draws of the sword before he was citified with the results.
The last item he picked up was a small receiver unit that fit easily in the palm of his
hand. He turned it on, and was rewarded with a faint beep. He nodded slowly. The Hunters would
have to wait. He had an Immortal to find before Marder did....