VIGILANTE'S RUN
Chapters 16 - 20
A Bubble Gum Crucible Fanfic - Second in the Series
By Craig A. Reed Jr. (trboturtle@aol.com) |
The Bubble Gum Crisis OVA's (which this story is based on) are copyrighted by
Artmic Inc. and Youmex, Inc. I am just borrowing the characters for a little
while for non-monetary reasons. I can be contacted at the Email address above.
Serious C&C will be accepted, out-and-out flames will result in a Boomer
or two being sent after you, once they get around to building them.
Please, enjoy my take on the Bubble Gum Crisis universe . . .
Chapter 16
Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section south-central
District 8
February 10, 2036
11:02pm
Nemesis managed to move several hundred meters into the killing zone since he'd
told McNichol's girlfriend to stay out of the way. After about a minute of searching,
he'd located a hollow in the rubble perfect for the ambush, and had just managed to
settle himself into the darkness when his senors detected movement. Quickly, he placed
most of his sensors on stand-by and concentrated on the suit's passive visuals.
Two lighter shadows moved into view from the direction of what had been the
administration building. The now-constant lightning revealed that there were two Jagers,
moving in a southerly direction. One Jager was covered with scorch marks and dents that
gave it a battered appearance, while the other looked undamaged. They were moving into
one of the least rubble-choked areas in sight, which meant there was nothing for them
to hide behind.
Not that they needed to hide behind anything in those suits, he thought. In
those things they're almost invincible. But that feeling might be something I can exploit....
Carefully, he brought the targeting system for the SS-3s on-line. After several
seconds, he decided to target the undamaged Jager first. Assuming the Jagers' sensors
are at full power, it should take two seconds, maybe more in this rain, to alert the
pilot he's been targeted. Maybe another two seconds for the pilot to react. I think three
should be enough....
Slowly, he settled the cross hairs on his target on the center mass of the undamaged
Jager. One. . .Two. . .Three. . .Four. . . . On the count of four, he pressed
the firing button three times. Three missiles rocketed out of the launcher and lit up
the night with a trio of flames.
The Jager reacted quickly. The twenty millimeter rifle/grenade launcher snapped
up, its muzzle pointed in the direction of the oncoming missiles. The turret that sat
on the Jager's back whirled to life and began to spat out shells at the oncoming missiles.
One of the SS-3s exploded as bullets found it, but the other two missiles twisted and
weaved their way through the hail of lead.
The Jager tried to dodged out of the way, but it was too late. Both surviving
SS-3s slammed into the Jager. One missile smashed into the Jager's lower torso while
the second struck the knee and exploded. The two blasts threw the Jager back and to
the ground.
As the explosions shattered the stillness, Nemesis charged out of the hollow and
fired a volley of saturation rockets at the battered Jager. The Jager darted to its left,
its turret lighting up the night with twin flames. A series of explosions blossomed in
the air as the rockets exploded in the hail of bullets.
Before the Jager could refocus its attention, Nemesis opened fire with his minigun.
The volley ripped across the armored torso, sparking and cratering the composite armor.
The Jager staggered, but didn't fall. Its rifle came up to point in Nemesis' direction
and opened fire.
Still firing, Nemesis launched itself into the air the hardsuit's jets lightening
up the rain-soaked night. He heard the bullets pass beneath him and felt one glance off
his leg. At the height of his arc, the vigilante fired another volley of saturation
rockets. The Jager slipped to the right, its turret spitting out more lead. While another
series of fiery explosions blossomed, the Jager fired back with it's own missiles. They
reached out for the descending hardsuit like fingers of death.
Short of the target, two of the missiles collided with each other as Nemesis'
ECM computer jammed their sensors. The resulting explosion took out a third missile,
and the last two detonated as several 15mm rounds found them. The resulting eruptions
of light and sound, combined with the rain and lightning, made the Jager pilot hesitate,
and it cost him.
Nemesis dove out of the explosions like a shadow and crashed into the Jager. His
right foot glanced off the Jager's head before slamming into the turret with enough force
to wreck it. But the other foot smashed into the Jager's cockpit, cracking the viewports
and stunning the pilot. The mercenary never saw the minigun burst that punched through
the already weaken viewports and kill him.
The Jager fell on it's back, Nemesis waiting until the last moment to jump clear.
He landed several meters away, his minigun up and tracking for the first Jager, but that
was unnecessary. The first Jager laid where it had first fallen, smoke and steam drifting
into the wet atmosphere.
//Status?// asked Sarge in a brisk voice.
"Two Jagers down. One confirmed, one probable. Location of Alpha group?"
//Still out of mortar range, but they're moving toward you at about a twenty-five
degree angle, maybe seven hundred meters.//
"Can you zero in on this location with the mortars?"
//I need thirty seconds in this weather.//
Nemesis pulled a small black box off his belt and dropped it on the remains of
the second Jager. "You've got twenty. I dropped a homer on one of the dead Jagers, so
that should simplify the problem."
//On it. The other Jagers have joined Gamma and are moving South, looks like
they're hooking up with Alpha, give them two minutes. Hold it. // There was a burst of
static, then Sarge said, //Three of the Jagers seem to be hanging back -- now they're
moving to the southwest. I'm designating them Group Delta. Distance to them is twenty-
three hundred and increasing.//
"Any ideas what Delta's doing?"
//The only thing over there is the Knight Sabers.//
Nemesis frowned. "Is the jamming still effective?"
//It's holding steady at about sixty-five percent. The rain and lightning is
adding another eight percent. Hold on.//
Nemesis moved away from the two downed Jagers, back the way he came. He stopped
and picked up one of the Jager's rifles, then stripped the dead Jager of an undamaged
ammo magazine. "What is it?"
//McNichol didn't take your advice. The ADP is moving into the complex on all four
sides. They're coming in strength and they're supported by K-suits.//
Nemesis frowned. "Those K-suits won't stand up to Jagers."
//I know. But it's the best they've got, just like McNichol.//
"I suppose that's to be expected. Kagemusha's intel indicates this guy is
stubborn."
//Kagemusha also reported that McNichol likes to lead from the front, so he's
out there somewhere.//
"If it was any other time, I'd admire his abilities, but getting officers killed
against impossible odds is not my idea of leadership."
//Neither is going up against rampaging boomers with anything less then a rocket
launcher, but they do it.//
"Keep monitoring them and keep me updated so I can avoid them. Is the fire solution
ready on the mortars?"
//Ready when you are. WP and HE ready to go.//
"Good. I'm heading North to see if I can get behind them."
//Right. Just be careful, OK?//
"I always am." With that, Nemesis slipped into the darkness like a shadow.
Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section southwest
District 8
February 10, 2036
11:05pm
The inside of the Knight Wing was lit in an eerie red light, in part to protect
the Saber's night vision, but mostly to conserve power.
Only Sylia and Priss were in the main cabin. Nene was up in the cockpit, making
sure the monitoring system would work, while Linna stayed outside on guard. Priss was
wrapped in a thick blanket, a small mug of coffee clenched in her hands. He hair was
matted and a mess and she looked pale.
"How do you feel?" asked Sylia. She stood near the hatch, her helmet tucked under
her arm.
"I tired and cold," the singer replied. She looked up at her leader. "How bad's
the damage?"
"Bad enough. Once we're finished the repairs, I'm taking it back to base alone."
"What?" Priss shot to her feet, the blanket dropping from her shoulders. She had
taken the chance to change into her innerware, the only dry clothes she had on the air-
craft. "That's stupid!"
"That's my decision. I'm not going to risk all of our lives."
"No, you're going to risk just your own!"
"There's no other choice. I'm the most experienced pilot, so I have to be the one.
I've already explained it to Nene and Linna."
"You haven't explained it to me!"
"Please." Sylia closed her eyes. "If there was any other way, I would take it.
But I can't afford to leave the Knightwing here for the ADP to confiscate, nor can I
afford to destroy it if there's any chance of getting back to headquarters. At the same
time, I'm not going to risk everyone's lives, and that's final. Besides, if you take
the motorslaves with you, it'll lighten the load the engine will have to carry."
Priss glared at her, but before she could say anything, Nene called back to them.
"Guys! I'm picking up several targets heading this way!"
Sylia turned and flipped a switch on the console next to her. The radar screen
flared to life, showing a trio of blips moving towards the center of the screen. "Nene,
can you identify them?"
"They're Jagers! ETA is two minutes!"
Priss put the coffee cup down. "I'd better get suited up. I don't think they're
here to see if they can help us."
"Get the motorslaves," said Sylia, reaching for her helmet. "We'll need their
firepower."
Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section south-central
District 8
February 10, 2036
11:07pm
Malcolm Hijosama was the first to see the broken remains of the Jagers. Fighting
the urge to curse, he said in a harsh voice, "Black One, Stay here and cover us. Blue
Two and Three, you're with me."
//Be careful, Red One,//said Shinji Natamuyo.
"You can count on that." Hijosama looked up into the dark sky. From what little
he could see, it looked like the rain would continue. "Damm rain."
//Should we recall Gold Team?// asked Natamuyo.
"Negative. I want to make sure that the aircraft is down for good."
//And if it isn't part of Nemesis' arsenal?//
"I don't want live witnesses."
//The Oyabun won't like that.//
"I run this unit my way, the Oyabun can run his business his way."
He heard Natamuyo sigh. //I still think it's a mistake separating into groups.
Our communications are still shot to hell.//
"We're six to his one. He won't have a chance."
//Tell that to Groff and Kears.// He motioned to the two still armored forms in
front of them. //They don't look like they're taking a nap.//
Hijosama scowled. "I told them not to take Nemesis on alone."
//They may never had the chance to decide either way.//
"We can debate that later. Let's see if these two are still breathing."
The Jager leader moved out from the group, followed by two other battlesuits.
Moving carefully, they reached their comrades. While Hijosama stood watch, the other
two checked the down Jagers.
//Kears' dead,// said one. //Looks like shrapnel.//
//Not much left of Groff's head,// reported the other. //A minigun at close range
through the viewport.//
"Natamuyo, are you picking up anything?"
//No, but this weather is playing havoc with our sensors. The bastard could be
thirty meters away and we'd never see him until he moved.//
Hijosama cursed loudly. "Any sign of our target?" he shouted.
//Negative,// said pilot next to Kears. A flash of lighting interrupted him.
//I think -- Oh Shit. . . //
"What?" snarled Hijosama.
//There's a transmitter on Kears' armor. Saw it in the last flash of lighting.//
"What type of transmitter?"
Before the Jager pilot could answer, Natamuyo shouted, //INCOMING! Mortar fire,
impact in five seconds!//
Hijosama shouted, "Scatter!"
The Jagers were already moving when the first volley of shells hit the area around
the two dead Jagers. Blossoms of red and yellow mixed with the blinding whiteness of
phosphorous, lighting up the surrounding darkness with the intensity of a dozen lighting
bolts. The Jager's turrets, hampered by the rain and lighting, tried to knock down the
incoming rounds, with poor results. Several more shells landed and exploded with fire
and thunder. Other shells erupted in blossoms of brilliant white that were both beautiful
and terrible to see. The shockwaves hammered the Jagers with the fury of insane men with
sledgehammers. Several of the battlesuits were tossed into the air like toy dolls before
slamming back onto the hard packed earth and broken concrete.
The mercenary leader felt himself hurtling through the air. He crashed into a
mound of broken stones, the impact slamming his head into the viewscreen. He felt
blood trickling from his nose and ears, but ignore it for the moment. "All Jagers,
report!" he shouted, his voice harsh and raspy.
As suddenly as it had started, the motors stopped. There was silence for a full
ten seconds. Then a weak voice said, //Oh god, oh god,// over and over again.
"SHUT UP!" roared Hijosama, and the voice became silent. He slowly pushed himself
up and looked around him. At the sight that greeted him, he felt pure black rage course
through him.
The area around the two fallen Jagers looking like a scene out of hell. Craters
dotted the ground, sometimes overlapping each other. Fires were scattered in and around
the craters, lighting up the area like a beacon pyre. A haze drifted across the area,
adding another level of unreality to the scene. Here and there, the ground glowed with
an unusual light. The sounds were a mix of sizzling and hissing that were nearly as loud
as the oncoming rain.
Besides himself, Hijosama could see only two other Jagers moving two stand up
again. They were battered and worn, the armor dented and scorched. One of the Jager
was missing it's right arm, while the other Jager had lost both its shoulder mounted
missile launchers and turret. They both moved towards Hijosama like two old men.
"Where the hell is everyone else?" snarled Hijosama.
//Dead,// replied Natamuyo through clenched teeth. //Or wishing they were dead.
The bastards used High Explosive and White Phosphorus rounds. We didn't stand a chance.//
"Did you get a trajectory on those mortars?"
//No, it happen too fast.//
//What should we do?// ask the third survivor, a man by the name of Tran.
"We find the bastard and kill him!" screamed Hijosama.
//With what?// asked Natamuyo. //Right now, the three of us couldn't find a
crippled drunk, let alone kill him. We must retreat and regroup.//
"No! That bastard has killed six of my men! SIX! It'll be a could day in hell
before I retreat from that son of a bitch!"
//But we don't --// began Tran, then his voice became panicked. //INCOMING!//
Hijosama turned just in time to see a flight of rockets burst out of the surrounding
darkness and explode around him.
Nemesis didn't wait for the first volley of rockets to explode before he fired
two more volleys at the damaged Jagers. One of the Jagers was engulfed in a fireball
as all five missiles struck it. Even as the fireball died, the vigilante cut loose
with both his minigun and the salvaged Jager rifle fired one-handed. Twin lines of
fire walked up the torso of a second Jager battlesuit, ripping through the savaged
armor like cheap tin and into the hardman inside. The suit staggered back before
landing in a heap a couple of meters away from where it had been standing.
That left only the one-armed Jager to deal with. As Nemesis turned towards the
last target, the back of the armor blew off, followed by the suit's occupant. The thug,
cradling his right arm, took several steps before he tripped and fell. Nemesis strode
towards him, wisps of smoke still curling from the muzzles of the minigun and rifle.
By the time the thug had climbed to his feet, Nemesis was looming over him. The
man turned, and seeing the specter of death less then two meters away, clawed clumsily
for his pistol with is left hand. The hot muzzle of the twenty-millimeter rifle pressing
into his forehead made the man scream and forget about the sidearm.
"What is your name?" asked Nemesis, moving the muzzle back so it was only millimeters
away from the thug's forehead.
"Screw you!" the man screamed.
The vigilante shifted the rifle's muzzle a meter to the right of the tough's
head and pulled the trigger. The crack of the twenty-millimeter mixed with the man's
cry of terror and pain as he held his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to shut
out the sound. Moving the rifle back to target the man's head, Nemesis said, "Last
chance. What is your name?"
"Shinji Natamuyo!" screamed the man.
"Are you the leader of this unit?"
"No!" Natamuyo pointed with his good arm toward the blacked Jager corpse of the
hitman who had died in the fireball. "He was the leader. He name is...was... Malcolm
Hijosama. I was the second in command."
"I'm letting you live for one reason only, Shinji Natamuyo," said Nemesis, the
coldness in his voice made even colder by the electronic filter. "Take a message to
Shikichi Sato. Tell the Oyabun I'm coming for him and it'll take more then Jagers to
stop me. Understand?"
Natamuyo swallowed hard. "I can't do that!" he screamed. "He'll kill me!"
"If you don't, I'll kill you where you stand right now. Your choice. Five seconds...
four...three...two...o-"
"I'll do it!" howled the hardman, pain and fear etched on his face..
"Good. Why did you send three Jagers to the southwest?"
"A plane went down. Hijosama thought it was to pick you up, so he sent a team
after it to destroy it and finish anyone still alive."
Nemesis stepped back. "Go," he said. "If I see you again, I will kill you."
Natamuyo stood there for a second, then dashed off into the darkness. Nemesis
watched him until the thug disappeared into the ruins. In the corner of his visual
monitor, he caught a flash of light. He turned in that direction in time to see a
burst of rapid fire in the distance. "Sarge, what's the status of the last three
Jagers?"
//Looks like they've engaged someone. Either the ADP or the Knight Sabers.//
A trio of explosions blossomed into the rain-filled sky, followed by several
smaller explosions. "I'm going for a look-see."
//Is that wise?//
"I have to know for certain."
He heard Sarge sigh. //I'll vector you in. Just be careful, OK?//
"As always." Bracing the Jager rifle with his other arm, the vigilante switched
the nearly empty magazine for a fresh one, then moved off into the darkness toward the
sounds of battle.
Chapter 17
Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section south
District 8
February 10, 2036
11:16 PM
"What do you think, Sir?"
Leon glanced at the squad leader then back at where some sort of battle had just
ended. The area in question was about five hundred meters in front of Leon's unit, off
to the right and half hidden by building wreckage.
Leon frowned. There had been a quick flurry of explosions, muzzle flashes, and
rockets, a lull of several minutes, then all hell had broken loose as the area had
lit up bright as day in a series of explosions that lasted several minutes, and even
now there was a area of flame and light in the ocean of darkness, though the flames
were slowly dying in the spray of rain. There was too much smoke for the night-vision
goggles Leon had in his hands to see anything, but he continued to scan the area of
the battle. The only sounds coming out of the darkness now were the soft drumming of
rain and the hiss of cooling metal.
Leon's squads was strung out along a ridge of rubble three hundred meters in from
the street. The crest was high enough to give the ADP force a good view of the surrounding
darkness when the flashes of lighting permitted. Unfortunately, the ridge did nothing to
shield them from the steady rain and it wasn't long before they were all soaked inside
their ponchos, with the exception of the troopers inside the K-suits.
"Should we go in?" asked the first squad leader, a fresh-faced kid by the name
of Kuroda. "There may be survivors."
Laying on the other side of Leon, the second squad leader, a short ugly man by
the name of Kincade turned his head away from Leon and spat. He looked at Leon. "With
all due respect, sir, that's precisely the reason why we should stay here."
"But someone could be dying out there!" said Kuroda sharply.
"Better them then me," replied Kincade. "Saves us the trouble of giving them a
trial."
"That's enough," said Leon mildly, handing the goggles to Kuroda. "Kincade's right
in that the only people out here, besides us, are the bad guys."
"And the Knight Sabers," said Kincade gruffly.
"And the Knight Sabers," agreed Leon. "But Kuroda's right. As much as I want us all
to stay here, we're going to have to send someone to investigate."
"How many are you planing to send out?" asked Kuroda.
"Both squads."
"Makes sense," said Kincade. "Unless it's a trap."
Leon slapped the man on the back. "That's what I like about you-- you always look
at the bright side of life." He became serious again. "I'm going to call the backup
team in to take our position here while we move forward and investigate. If we run into
trouble, we'll pull back and rally here."
"The men ain't too eager to play tag with Jagers," mumbled Kincade.
Kuroda's face was harsh and his tone was hot. "Are you implying that we sit here
and let do some misguided vigilante do our job?"
The second squad leader shrugged."That 'misguided vigilante' is better armed,
better trained, and a sight more experienced in combat then we are. Every Jager he
takes down is one less I have to worry about trying to kill me or my squad."
Kuroda's mouth opened to deliver a stinging rebuke when Leon said, "We've got
movement out there."
Both squads shifted to cover the darkness before them, M42-A1 machine guns and
grenade launchers ready to fire. Kincade nudged Leon. "What do you see?"
Leon spoke as he peered through the night vision scope. "I've got a single human
moving toward us at a forty-five degree angle, about two hundred meters out."
"You want us to go get him?"
The ADP inspector though for a moment. "We'll let him come to us. Send two men
out to about fifty meters out along his route he's taken and have them wait until our
suspect stumble into them."
Kincade nodded and slid down the rubble ridge. Just then, Leon's earphone beeped.
//Command Five to Command Six.//
"Six here," said Leon.
Daley's voice was tinged with concern that came across even on the static-filled
communications channel. //Ko reported some sort of firefight in the south, near your
position. Can you confirm?//
"Affirmative. I was about to call the backup team to take over so my team can go
take a look-see."
//You want company?//
Leon thought for a second. "Negative. I don't want to take the chance of us shooting
each other by mistake. That's the last thing we need."
//Understood. Anything I should know?//
"When we know anything, you'll know. Send the backup team in on the double, and
I'll have a couple of my people lead them to us."
//They're on the way. I sure hope you know what you're doing.//
"Well, if I don't, it's too late now."
//Tell me about it. Command Five out.//
The inspector turned his head to look at Kuroda. "Send two men to make contact
with the back-up team coming in, then get the rest of the squad ready to move out as
soon as I give the word." The young squad leader nodded and moved over to the nearest
man and began giving orders in a soft voice that couldn't be heard by Leon over the
steady rain.
Ignoring Kuroda for the time being, Leon went back to scanning the darkness ahead
of him, keeping an eye on the oncoming human. Half a minute later, Kincade crawled up
the concrete rubble and laid next to Leon. "Hect and Parsons are on their way."
Nodding slowly, Leon started looking for the two ADP troopers. It took him several
seconds with the night vision glasses to find them. Both men were moving slowly through
the piles of discarded steel and cement with careful steps. Fifty meters away from the
oncoming figure, the two ADP troopers slipped into a pocket of deep shadow and waited.
The man stumbled past them several minutes later. Even at this distance, Leon
could see that the newcomer was suffering from some sort of shock. He made no effort
to resist as the two ADP officers stepped out and grabbed him. Moving as quickly as
the could over the uneven ground, the trio stated back toward the police lines.
Leon handed Kincade the glasses. "Keep an eye on things until I've talk to our
guest." With that, the ADP inspector half walked, half slid back down the man-made
ridge. He glanced up as Kuroda followed him down.
"The back-up team should be here in ten minutes," said the squad leader.
"Good. Be ready to move out as soon as I give the word."
Kuroda sketched a salute and started back up the ridge. Leon moved carefully through
the slick rubble, trying hard to ignore the steady rain. It took him several minutes
to work his way to a slab of concrete that jutted out from the rubble, forming a crude
shelter from the elements. Several ADP officers were there, most checking their weapons
for signs of water seepage.
The officers have rigged up a couple of flashlights, illuminating the cold damp
shelter. Hect and Parsons were off in a corner, the man they've been sent out to get
sitting on the cold ground between them, huddled under a blanket. Hect, a stocky man
with pale brown skin, nodded to Leon as he approached them. "He was carrying this when
we stopped him." He haded the Inspector a large semi-automatic pistol. "We have a medic
on the way."
Leon accepted the pistol and looked it over. "Is he hurt?"
"Serious burn on his forehead, several other burns that are not so bad, shock
and a hell of a lot of cuts and bruises. He said he was out hunting rodents."
"In this weather?" Leon removed the magazine and removed a bullet from the clip.
"Ten millimeter hollow points are a bit much for pest control."
The man glanced up at Leon, a look of pure venom on his face. The Inspector saw
the circular burn on the man's forehead and shook his head slowly. "Of course. If the
rodents are packing heavy firepower, then this," he held up the bullet, "isn't enough.
Hect, what type of rifle would leave a muzzle burn like that on a man's forehead?"
The officer shrugged. "Too large to be a Gerlitch. Maybe a twenty millimeter?"
"A good possibility," replied Leon easily.
"Don't the Jager suits have twenty millimeter rifles?" asked Parson, a tall,
lanky kid.
"Say, that's right." Leon smiled down at the prisoner. "I think you and I have
some things to talk about -- later." He looked at Hect. "We'll have a couple of the
backup team take him out to the perimeter where they can send him back to headquarters.
Until then, keep him here and quiet."
"I ain't saying anything," muttered the man. "I want my lawyer."
Kincade strode into the shelter. "Backup team is starting to filter in," he said
bruskly.
"Good. Get the squads ready to move." Leon turned and walked out into the rain.
Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section southwest
District 8
February 10, 2036
11:17 PM
"Ugly suckers," said Priss.
"But they're dangerous," said Sylia. She was about a hundred meters away from
the Knight Wing, kneeling behind a broken slab of concrete. "When you attack, keep
moving. Don't let them get a good shot at you, and make sure you stay out of the
motorids' field of fire. Our hardsuits are faster, but they have more firepower.
When Nene's pulse strikers are ready, clear out as fast as you can. Understand?"
"Right," the other three responded.
Sylia watched the trio of Jagers moved towards them. She wished she had the time
to get the KnightWing out of here, but the Jagers were too close to risk lifting off.
With the firepower that the Jagers had, they could riddle the aircraft long before she
could have piloted it out of danger.
"Nene, any luck in cracking their communications?"
"Some," replied the hacker. "They're not using standard military skipping tech-
niques, but I have about a thirty-five percent matching rate right now. Give me
another minute and I can push it up to sixty-five percent."
"We don't have another minute!' snarled Priss. "They're going to be in out laps
in less then thirty seconds!"
"Do you have enough of a match to degrade their communications?" asked Sylia
before Nene could respond to Priss' comments.
"I think so. Their communications can't be reliable right now because of the storm
and landscape. My ECM pods will definitely make that worse."
"Stand by, Sabers," said Sylia, watching the Jagers approach the ambush site.
The trio of battlesuits were moving cautiously through the rubble. They were moving
in single file because of the wreckage they were moving through was piled up on each
side of the path, making look like a trench.
Sylia pursed her lips. This was going to be dangerous. The surrounding destruction
was working in the Sabers' favor, channeling the Yakuza hitmen into a natural kill zone,
a twisting narrow gully that emptied out onto the mud drenched open space near the Knight
Wing. Her plan was to hit the Jagers hard and fast enough to send them reeling.
But Sylia doubted that the Sabers would have more then two or three seconds of
surprise on their side. She didn't know how good the Jager pilots were, but she didn't
want to underestimate them. Her hardsuits were years ahead of the Jagers in technology
terms, but the Hunter/Killer suits carried more and heavier weapons and a lot more armor.
In the hands of a incompetent pilot, the Jagers were dangerous. But if the pilots was
any good....
She shoved that thought aside as the Jagers approached the point where she would
give the order. She crouched slightly, letting the rush of adrenaline flow through her.
Five... four... three...two...one -- "Now!"
She rose to her feet and fired at the lead battlesuit, igniting her flight pack
in the same instance. She adjusted her aim as she rose rapidly into the pounding rain,
continuing her assault on the Jagers. In the back of her mind, she noted that both Priss
and Linna had leapt out from behind the Yakuza killers, targeting the other two battle-
suits. From behind and below her, she heard the heavy snarl of the motorslaves' weapons.
Sylia's fears were well founded, as the Jagers reacted almost in a heartbeat. The
lead Jager, ignoring the motorslaves and the other Sabers, fired a short burst from his
rifle as he used his thruster pack to send him into the dark sky. The other two spun
and dropped to a knee, missiles, cannon shells, and twenty millimeter slugs from their
weapons attempting to kill both Priss and Linna. The blue and olive Sabers twisted
frantically away from the fusillade, their own attack forgotten in the sudden need
for survival.
The white hardsuited Saber twisted from a small volley of rockets that accompanied
several bursts of slugs and a shell of some sort, The Jager attacking her twisted in
mid-jump, trying to lead his target into a massive volley, but the fired ammunition hit
nothing but cracked concrete and twisted metal as Sylia easily avoided the attack.
The Jager landed on an uneven slab of rock, forcing him to regain his stability
before attacking. Sylia dropped to the ground more gracefully and opened fire with her
lasers at a distance of about fifty meters, the twin beams striking slab and making it
even more unstable. The Jager's jump jets flared to life again and the battlesuit leapt
into the rain-choked heavens, sending a volley of rockets at its opponent. The White
Saber shot into the air herself, easily missing the Jager's rocket attack.
The Jagers's next attack was massive, and at the same time, not well-directed.
Sylia somersaulted, to avoid a burst from her opponent's rifle and turret. She fired
both her lasers, the storm of light competing with the storm's lighting to turn her
target into a garish flickering red and white nightmare. Most struck the battlesuit,
only to be mostly shrugged off by the Jager's armor. However, a small explosion knocked
the Jager's rifle from its hands, sending the weapon in one direction, the Jager tumbling
in the direction of the Knight Wing.
"Ready!" shouted Nene, rising up from behind a cracked slab of concrete seventy-
five meters from the combat.
"Get clear!" Sylia shouted, adjusting her flight path to move clear. As she did
so, she saw a blur of blue and another of green streak away into the night. It was
only then she realized she could only see two battlesuits in the kill zone.
Nene saw it too. "Should I fire?" she asked, uncertainty filling her voice.
"Yes!" shouted Sylia. "Priss, Linna, find the other battlesuit and --"
Her radio was suddenly filled with nothing but static as Nene fired her Pulse
Strikers. The electronic wave slammed into the battlesuits before they were aware of
the attack. The battlesuits tried to turn and fire at the red and pink hardsuit, but
eruptions of sparks and flame wreathed them in unholy light. Larger explosions ripped
through the shoulder-mounted missile pods as missiles succumbed to the effects of the
attack and detonated. After ten seconds, both battlesuits crumpled, smoke, sparks and
fires fighting with the steady downpour for supremacy.
Sylia landed near the battlesuits. "Linna, Priss," she said urgently. "Do you see
the other Jager?"
"No," replied Linna "We lost track when he went after you."
"We have to find him. He was tumbling in the direction of the KnightWing, and I
want to make sure he's not fight-worthy."
"Why?" asked Priss irritably. "His suit's toast and he lost his rifle."
"He has enough missiles to knock the KnightWing out of the sky. We cannot take
the chance that he's still active." Sylia turned towards the fourth member, who as
scrambling over some rocks to reach them. "Nene, I want you to start scanning for the
missing battlesuit and --"
"Nene!" Priss yelled. "Behind you!"
"What --" Nene spun as the night sky lit up with a enormous flash of lightning
showing a monstrosity in steel and plastic near the top of a jagged mound of rubble
not more the thirty meters away from Nene. The Jager was battered and it's right arm
was missing at the elbow, but it wasn't dead by a long shot. The turret whirled and
locked onto the red-and-blue hardsuit.
"Nene!" the others shouted, but Sylia was already moving at the Jager in a flat
out run, her lasers firing a flurry of intense light at the battlesuit. It was up to
her, as the other two were too far away. She was only slightly aware of the yells of
Priss and Linna the frighten screams of Nene -- her entire would shrank down to her
and the Jager.
In a panic, Nene fired her own lasers at the Jager as she stumbled back and
tripped, sending her shots wild. The rubble mound the Jager was standing on was
quickly absorbing shot after shot. Several of Sylia and Nene's shots hit the battle-
suit, but it ignored them and opened fire at Nene.
At least it tried to.
The turret guns had just started spitting slugs when half a dozen missiles
streaked out of the rainy blackness behind the battlesuit and ripped into the Jager
with all the violence of a starving tiger. Detonations ripped trough the battlesuit,
immersing it in fire and heat. Sylia's helmet visor polarized as the explosions inflamed
the area in red, yellow, and blue streaks. With a final eruption of fire, the suit
tumbled to the bottom of the rubble mound, trailing fluid and pieces as it did so. It
rolled to a stop and laid there, smoke and steam rising into the rain.
There was silence for several seconds, then a crack of thunder seems to snap every-
one out of their trance. Sylia didn't have to get any closer to know the battlesuit's
pilot was dead, but he was a secondary concern now. "Nene," she snapped. "Are you all
right?"
"I think so," the redhead replied slowly, sitting up, holding her still attached
head in her hands. "I think I bruised my back."
"Forget your back!" snapped Priss. "Are you shot?"
"Er...." Nene looked down at herself. "Hey! He missed me!"
Sylia reached Nene and looked her suit over. With the exception of a few dents
and creases, the suit was intact. "You were lucky," she said flatly.
"I know," Nene replied, getting up slowly "But I want to know who took him out."
Sylia jaw tightened as she realized she'd forgotten about their unknown benefactor.
She turned to the other two Saber who had just arrived. "Priss, Linna, find out who
fired those missiles."
"There's no need to," replied Linna pointing at something behind Sylia. "I think
he's here."
Sylia spun as a shadow walked out of the darkness, then stopped. A large armored
figure with a white stylized skull painted where the face would be stood there. It was
taller then any of the Sabers, its cold back skin gleaming in the dying flames and flashes
of lighting. A large, multi barreled, minigun was attached to the right arm, and two
large drums attached so as to hang over the suit's shoulders, each with several missiles
peeking out from tubes. It wasn't as bulky as the Jager, but it didn't have quite the
form fitting appearance of the Stingray hardsuits. What it did have was a aura of menace
that Sylia could feel. It stood there like an armored Angel of Death, its posture neither
threatening nor friendly.
"That's him!" hissed Priss over the radio. "Nemesis!"
"Nene," said Sylia. "Can you scan the suit?"
"No. There's a layer of some sort inside that suit that's making it tough to get
anything solid."
"Keep trying." Out of the corner of her visor, Sylia noticed Linna and Priss
slowly moving away from her and Nene, their vision never leaving the heavily armed
vigilante. "Don't make the first move," she ordered them. "I want to see what he does."
Nemesis lowered the minigun until it pointed at the ground. "I take it you are
the Knight Sabers?" he asked in an electronic altered voice. His Japanese was fluent,
but it clearly wasn't his native tongue.
Sylia stepped forward. "You must be Nemesis," she replied cooly.
"I am."
"Your appearance in MegaTokyo has stirred up a lot of trouble."
"It was to be expected. I will not be here much longer."
"What do you want from us?" Priss shouted.
Nemesis' head turned slightly to look at the blue Saber. "Nothing except for you
to stay out of my way." Priss bristled, but held her ground.
"That may not be possible," said Sylia, picking up the conversation again and
focusing Nemesis' attention on her. "Your style of justice will not be tolerated by
the law."
"I know that, but I must fight this war my way. Shikichi Sato and the Sleeping
Dragon Yakuza are my enemy here and now. You are not. I will not fight you unless I
am forced to."
"Shikichi Sato is a very powerful man in this city. He has money and connections,
and you have made him lose face. He will not rest until you are dead."
Nemesis nodded slowly. "I knew that when I started. But he knows that I will
return the favor. Too many people have died because of the evil the Sleeping Dragon
Yakuza has spawn, here and abroad. But all his lawyers, his money, his men and his
connections cannot save him from my judgement. I am Nemesis, and I serve Justice."
With that, he turned and walked back into the darkness, the shadows swallowing him
up with ease.
"Do we go after him?" Priss asked.
Sylia was silent for a moment. "No," she said. "We've too much to do without
adding another fight to our list. Let's get out of here before the ADP moves in and
investigates."
Three of the Sabers immediately started for the KnightWing. Priss stood there
for a second, staring into the darkness that had swallowed up Nemesis, before she
turned and followed the others.
Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section south
District 8
February 10, 2036
11:27 PM
Kincade pulled his gas mask away from his face long enough for him to spit out
a bead of neo-tobacco juice before he said, "This guy scares me."
"You're not alone," Leon replied, looking at the carnage before him. The remnants
of more than half a dozen Jager battlesuits were scattered across an area the size of
a basketball court. There were small stretches of dirt and concrete that glowed dimly,
which made Leon order his men to use their masks. The ADP officers were moving from
one Jager suit to another, while others established a perimeter and searched for anyone
else hiding in the nearby rubble. The rain continued, a steady patient rain that made
up for its intensity with consistency.
There had been another brief firefight to the west several minutes before, and
it had taken all of Leon's patience and command savvy to prevent the forward teams
stationed to cover the west side from rushing in to investigate. The officer in command,
another bright-eyed type that seemed determined to die early and in battle, finally
acknowledge the order, but didn't sound happy about it. Just to make sure, Leon sent
a couple of more experienced officers to 'advise' the young commander.
"I mean," Kincade continued, shifting the small wad in his mouth. "This guy has
hit at least four of Sato's businesses, killed at least fifty of Sato's men, then,
to top off his night, he takes on a dozen military-grade battlesuits, and walks away
the winner. And the brass wants us to take this guy down?"
"Quit bellyaching, and tell me what you think happened here."
The older man was silent for several seconds. "Darwin's law in action," he said.
"Do you want to explain that?" asked Leon.
"The only way that one person can beat six Jagers is for the Jagers to do some-
thing stupid." Kincade pointed at an area that had at least three Jager remains close
together. "Clustering together like they did here is stupid. All Nemesis had to do
was drop enough munitions on that spot to take them out. Also, the area is open, a
natural killing ground. If the leader of these Jagers would have had the sense of a
duck, they wouldn't have exposed themselves so."
"How many do you think were caught here?"
"At lest six, but more likely seven or eight. That means we're looking for only
looking for four or five suits." The older ADP officer squinted at the destruction.
"Do you know something?"
"What?"
"If I didn't know any better, I would have said that these guys were on the wrong
end of a mortar barrage. That would explain the glowing areas -- it's probably white
phosphorous."
Leon looked over the area, and something that had been nagging him in the back of
his mind suddenly came to the forefront of his thinking. "Where the hell did Nemesis
get all this firepower?" he asked out loud. "When he left the building, all he had was
one unuseable rifle. How in the hell did he take them out?"
"That's what scares me," replied Kincade in a quiet tone.
"What about Nemesis? Do you think he managed to escape this in one piece?"
"I don't see another body, so it looks like he got away." Kincade spat out more
of the brownish juice. "Assuming our boy left any evidence he was here, we ain't going
to find it until morning, if then."
Leon nodded. "Any chance of ID the bodies?"
"Depends on what condition the bodies are in. If we're lucky, we'll just need
fingerprints. If we're unlucky --"
"Yea. We'll need genetic samples." Leon looked around the battlefield. "Make sure
you check for serial numbers on those Jagers!" he shouted to the men investigating the
suits.
One of the men leaned closed to a shattered Jager, only to be grabbed by another
officer and yanked away. Leon, spotting the incident, shouted, "What's going on down
there?"
"You'd better see this!" the second officer shouted back.
Shaking his head, partially in frustration, but mostly to shake some of the water
off his hood, Leon started over to the battle sight, trailed by Kincade.
"What's up?" Leon asked as he approached the two ADP officers.
"That," said Parsons, who was the second officer, pointing to something in the
bottom of a small crater. The item was buried an unknown distance into the soft muddy
dirt, but the fins that were sticking out were cleanly visible.
"Mortar round," said Leon slowly.
"Yep," Kincade confirmed. "Looks like either an eighty-one or a ninety millimeter.
Unexploded."
"Everyone clear this area!" Leon called out. "Kincade, get on the radio and get
a bomb disposal team in here ASAP. I want that shell defused and intact as evidence."
He glanced over at Parsons. "Did you find any live ones in the suits?"
Parsons' snort was loud. "Most aren't even intact enough to determine if they
were even human. Most are going to be closed casket-type funerals."
"I want a perimeter kept in place until the bomb disposal people get here and
defused this shell." The troops scattered, and Leon and Kincade walked away from the
mortar shell.
"This is not good," Kincade muttered.
"Tell me about it," Leon shot back, then stared up into the sky as if he was
looking for a break in the clouds. "Word on the street is that several of the Tongs
and other Yakuza gangs are building up for a possible war."
"The sharks are smelling blood."
"Exactly. If we don't stop Nemesis and soon, we're going to wish that we were
facing only rampaging boomers."
"When Sato hears about this, he's going to go through the ceiling."
Leon looked at the older man. "You think he's going to do something drastic?"
"He's loss a hell of a lot of face, not to mention money, men and firepower."
Kincade motioned out at the dead Jagers. "This is something Sato has to stop here and
now, or he's going to be on the wrong end of a feeding frenzy from the other gangs in
the city. Assuming he stops Nemesis cold sometime in the next twenty-four hours, he
might get the others to back off for now. But Nemesis is giving Jimmy Chee and a couple
of other Triad leaders ideas that Sato doesn't want them getting. Sato's going to have
to do something public and quickly."
"How long do you think we have?"
"Maybe forty-eight hours for Sato to do something. If he doesn't, expect a gang
war twenty-four hours later."
Leon closed his eyes. "About what I figure," he said with a growl
//Command Five to Commnad Six!// Daley said over his radio.
The ADP Inspector keyed his mike. "Daley! What do you have?"
//Maybe some luck, for a change. We found Kelly Gamble.//
"You did? Where?"
//He was in a car the N-police pulled over for a routine traffic stop. We've asked
that he be transferred to ADP custody as a 'material witness,' and the N-Police agreed.
He should be back at headquarters by the time we get back there.//
"About time something went right for us."
//How much longer are you going to be? Anderson is chomping at the bit to go talk
to Mr. Gamble.//
"At least another half hour. I'm not leaving until we've accounted for every Jager.
The last thing we need is one of these guys to escape."
//I don't think she can wait that long. She giving Ko and earful right now.//
"The kid needs the experience with interdepartmental cooperation," replied Leon
lazily. "If Anderson gives you any more lip, tell her she can come out here and take
charge."
//She might take you up on that.//
"I need her out here like I need an extra mouth. If you want to give her some-
thing to do, tell her to start leaning on the organized crime department. Sato's
taking heavy losses, and I'll bet my next two paychecks that someone's going to try
and take advantage of the situation. I would like to know who the front-runners will
be if and when the shit hits the fan."
//No bet. I get her started on the organized crime angle right now. Who knows?
It might keep her out of hairs for a couple of minutes.//
"Now who's the one making the sucker bet? Hang tight, I'll give you a call when
I'm on my way out."
//Don't be too long. If words were sharp instruments, poor Ko would be an eunuch
by now.//
Leon chuckled. "Well, try and restrain her long enough to get started on those
OC briefings. I'll talk to you in a while."
Just then, the howl of jet engines filled the night, coming from the west. Leon
and Kincade turned in time to see something rise into the sky. "What the hell?" Kincade
said.
"The Knight Sabers," Leon said.
//Hey, Leon!// Daley called out. //We've just gotten a report that three of your
sweethearts just came roaring out of the complex on those motor-whatever of theirs
and into the night. Do we pursue?//
"With what?" Leon asked. "We've still got several Jagers unaccounted for, plus
Nemesis. I'm not going to divide up our forces to go chase everyone."
//I hear you, but Anderson seems to be a bit put out.//
"Tell her that the Sabers are the least of our problem We still have a heavily
armed vigilante and several battlesuits unaccounted for. Ask her who she thinks is
the bigger danger."
Leon heard a scuffle at the other end, then the furious voice of Anderson on the
radio. //What kind of idiot are you?// she yelled. //The Sabers are wanted for a whole
host of crimes, including murder, grand theft, destruction of property, trespassing,
and illegal weapons ownership! What the hell are you thinking about?//
"How about the fact the Sabers are home-grown, but Nemesis is only in town for a
limited engagement?" Leon shot back. "We've got Nemesis down for at least seventy-five
homicides, arson, destruction of property, plus a whole hell of lesser charges, and
that's only in the last twenty-four hours! Do you really want me to drop everything
and go after the Sabers?"
There was a snarl of frustration, then Daley was back on the channel. //You
definitely have a way with women,// he said.
"Get her onto those organized crime reports and out of my hair," Leon replied,
watching the KnightWing disappear into the black sky.
Chapter 18
District 9
February 11, 2036
12:39am
By the time Leon stalked into ADP headquarters, he was tired.
The rain had finally let up as he was walking out of the ruins, but by then, he
was beyond caring. Daley had volunteered to drive him back to headquarters, while Ko
kept an eye on things at the scene. Anderson had finally went off to talk to someone
at OC about those reports on the pretenders to Sato's crown.
Leon slept most of the way back, a cloth bag sitting on his lap the entire time.
It was only when Daley nudged him as they approached the building did Leon stir.
"What's in the bag?" Daley had asked him.
"Evidence," Leon had replied, stretching.
"Do you want to talk to Gamble now?"
The big Inspector nodded. "Might as well."
Those were the last words Leon said until they reached the interrogation room
that held Kelly Gamble. Without knocking, Leon walked in, Daley behind him. With the
exception of a bored-looking officer in the corner, the only other person in the room
was Kelly Gamble.
Gamble was short, slim and dressed in a suit that probably cost more the Leon
made in two months. He had sharp features which gave him the look of a weasel or ferret.
His hair, dark and usually slicked back was in mild disarray, and from the pile of short
butts in the cigarette tray on the table, Gamble had been waiting awhile.
"How much longer are you going to keep me here?" he asked, his voice surprising
deep for such a thin man.
"Depends," Leon replied, opening the bag he carried and reaching inside it. "What
can you tell me about this?" he dropped the dud mortar round on the table in front of
Gamble.
Gamble looked at the shell, then back at Leon. "I take it this isn't a live round?"
he asked in a flat tone.
"It was a dud, but I had the EO team remove the firing mechanism and explosives
from it. It's a shell, nothing more."
"Were you trying to scare me?"
"Not really." Leon dropped the back, pulled out a chair from under the table,
turned it around, and straddle it. Daley leaned on the wall next to the door. "I just
want your opinion on it."
Gamble's eyes drifted back to the round. "May I pick it up?" he asked.
Leon wave a hand. "Go ahead. It's not going to explode."
The arms merchant picked up the shell and examined it. "It's a eighty-one milli-
meter mortar round," he said, his eyes never leaving the object. "American made, about
twenty years old. It's been reloaded, by an expert armorer, but something went wrong
with the fuse." He looked at Leon. "Where did you find this?"
"In the middle of half a dozen dead Jagers battlesuits."
Gamble nodded. "That would explain some of the rumors I've heard."
"Which ones?' asked Daley.
"That a vigilante calling himself Nemesis is in town."
"It isn't a rumor," replied Leon. "He's here and he's pissed off at Sato and the
Sleeping Dragons."
"Oh." Gamble was silent for a moment. "You want to know if I have dealt with
Nemesis, correct?"
"According to my sources, you're one of three Arms dealers in this city that
carry fifteen millimeter, Teflon-tipped, hydroshock specials."
"And the other two are?"
"We can talk about them later. Have you sold either mortar rounds or bullets
for what is probably a GMMA Whirlwind-III minigun in the last two weeks?"
Gamble leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "It sounds like you're on
a fishing trip," he said flatly.
"The fish I'm after is a high-tech vigilante who is about to push this city into
a major gang war." Leon leaned forward. "You know the players. Sato's been taking hits,
and sooner or later one or more of the others is going to try and grab a chunk of Sato's
empire."
The arms dealer shrugged. "I might think that would be a good idea, if I was in
a position to profit from it. Good for business and all that."
Wrong," said Daley. "That means dead civilians and police officers. Which means
if we find evidence that you sold even so much as a bullet that's used in a crime,
we'll charge you with conspiracy."
"I'm shaking in my boots," Gamble replied, not opening his eyes.
"I don't think he's worried about us," said Leon slowly. "Of course, if Nemesis
decides to expand his war, Mr. Gamble here is likely to be first on his list."
"You're still not scaring me."
"Does the name Yvon Heuse ring a bell?"
"Not really."
"He was in the same business you are in. His base of operations was Miami, in
the United States."
"So?"
"So, four years ago, his entire operation was razed to the ground by Nemesis. In
four days, Heuse and almost every single one of his men were dead or in prison, and the
police found enough hardware to equip a large army."
Gamble opened one eye slightly. "Again, so?"
"So, Nemesis has access to inside information. If he finds out you supply Sato
with weapons, he might "
The arms dealer sighed. "You are not scaring me."
Leon stood and lean over the table. "Well, I've met Nemesis, face to face, and he
scares me." His voice became hard. "He went through at least fifty of Sato's men tonight,
including nearly a dozen men in Jager battlesuits!"
The second eye opened. "You're blowing smoke." Gamble said.
"No I'm not. The morgues are overloaded with dead Sleeping Dragon members. Sato
had a dozen Jager suits before tonight. Now he doesn't have any. Most of them were taken
out by Nemesis in the last three hours. He left one survivor the rest of the Jager
pilots are dead, and most of them are going to have closed-casket funerals. Would you
like to see the pictures? I sure I could have a batch run off especially for you."
"I see." Gamble's eyes opened. "I suppose you'll find a way to 'plant' the
information that I've been supplying Sato with weapons?"
"I know some people that will not only make sure the word gets out, but supply
pictures and a soundtrack that will you show you talking to us about your customers."
Leon's face was still and hard. "You customers will think you've sold them out."
"They won't believe that." Despite his statement, Gamble's voice was less sure
then it had been, and apprehension began to appear in his eyes.
"Not all of them. But how about Jimmy Chee? Or Adrik Smirnovski? They don't strike
me as men who will let such 'evidence' pass without taking action."
"Jimmy is crazy," said Daley, "And Adrik is a ruthless son of a bitch. I wouldn't
bet you lasting more then two weeks."
"More likely a week," said Leon.
"What do you want?" Gamble asked in a resigned voice.
"Have you sold any fifteen millimeter, Teflon-tipped, hydroshock specials in the
last two weeks."
The arms dealer nodded. "Twenty thousand rounds, about ten days ago."
"Describe the buyer."
"A single man, maybe mid-forties, a bit on the short side, broad-shouldered,
crewcut with gray in it."
A short, broad-shouldered man with a graying crewcut rapidly emerged from the
corridor....
Leon looked startled for a brief second, but he quickly recovered. "Did he give
you a name?"
Gamble shook his head. "He called himself John Smith and paid in cash."
"What else can you tell me about this buyer?"
"He didn't say much, but I would guess he was an American, and there was an air
of the military around him."
"Military air?' asked Daley.
"Yea, the son of a bitch stood there like a ramrod had been jammed up his ass."
As he continued, Gamble warmed up to the subject. "His eyes didn't miss a thing, and
he gave the impression that he could take out everyone in the room before they knew
what hit them, then his backup team would take out anyone left."
"Was he alone?"
"As far as I know he was. But this guy struck me as someone who had a back-up plan
in place, just in case something went wrong."
"Fine," said Leon. "We're going to need a complete description of this man."
"I can do better then that. If you give me two hours, I'll get you pictures of him
from my security cameras."
"All right."
Gamble stood. "May I leave now?"
"Go ahead."
"Thank you." The Arms merchant walked to the door, but stopped short. "Would have
really faked that evidence?" he asked, not looking at Leon.
Leon leaned back in his chair so he could look at Gamble. "If I thought I could
save one innocent life, I'd do it in a heartbeat."
Gamble nodded. "I see. Thank you." He opened the door. A pair of ADP troopers
stood there.
"These two officers will escort you to the sidewalk," Leon said. After the door
closed, Leon looked at the officer in the corner. "Wait outside."
Daley waited until the officer left. "You're becoming a better liar in your old
age."
"I've had plenty of experience."
"What happened if he'd called your bluff about the faking the evidence?"
"Broken out the rubber hoses."
"Oh come on. You know it'll take three weeks for the request for rubber hoses
to go through channels." Daley became serious again. "You recognize the guy our friend
described."
"It sounds like a guy I bumped into inside the nightclub just before everything
went to shit. The pictures Gamble has will prove or disprove my suspicions."
"Do you think this guy is Nemesis?"
"The guy in the hardsuit? No. But I think he's working with Nemesis." Leon put
his feet up on the table. "When we get the pictures, I want to run his image through
all the data banks we can get into, especially American military ones. Someone has to
know this guy."
The redheaded Inspector sighed. "You're playing a longshot."
"There about the only ones we have left right now."
"Anything else tonight?"
Leon shook his head. "I want a meeting of all the detachment commanders and all
department heads at nine o'clock this morning. As of right now, we're in a stage one
alert, all leaves canceled, all field units are on standby alert, four hours on, four
hours off. Break out the cots and clear the gym, We're going to stop Nemesis, if we
can."
Daley frowned. "That's going to be the trick, isn't it? A dozen police forces
have tried to stop him, and failed. Why should we be any different?"
"We won't know until we try." Leon yawned. "Better get some sleep. I don't think
we're going to be getting a lot of it in the next few days."
Sylia's apartment
February 11, 2036
12:43am
The group sitting around Sylia's living room wasn't a happy group.
After Nemesis has left them, the quartet made a mad dash for the Knight Wing.
Despite last minute pleas from the others, Sylia insisted on piloting the KnightWing,
alone, back to base. With hasty fair-wells, the others mounted their motorslaves and
rode off into the rainy night.
The twenty minutes Sylia spent behind the aircrafts controls felt like two hours
to her. She had to continuously adjust the KnightWing's pitch and speed to keep the
craft level. The damage from the SAM near miss caused the aircraft to wobble and twist
like an insane drunk, forcing her to hang onto the controls in a near death grip. She
wasn't sure, but she believed that only her hardsuit's augmented strength had allowed
her to keep control at least twice where she normally would have lost it and plowed
into a building or street. That wasn't something she wanted to think about.
She didn't release her grip on the joystick until after she had landed the Knight
Wing inside the hanger and shut off the engines. She sat there for another ten minutes,
regaining her strength. I will never do that again, she promised herself. I'll have to
look into the possibility of installing a self destruction system in case this happens
again.
"What are we going to do about Nemesis?" Priss asked, reminding Sylia that it
was the past she was thinking about. The singer was sitting on the couch, legs under-
neath her. Her hair was wet again, this time from a hot shower, and she was wrapped
in a blanket over a thick shirt and pants, a large cup of coffee in her hands.
"I don't know," Sylia replied. She was wearing a heavy bathrobe, and still managed
to have an air of grace about her. She was sitting in a chair and sipped from her own
cup of coffee.
"But he must have killed over two hundred people tonight!" said Linna sharply.
Her choice of clothing was a sweatshirt and sweatpants and she had a towel over her
head. She was sitting on a couch across from the one Priss was occupying
"He killed members of the Yakuza," said Sylia calmly.
"Who set him up as judge, jury and executioner?"
"Do we have the right to stop him?" Nene asked quietly. She was sitting next
to Linna. Instead of coffee, she had a cup of coco.
"What do you mean 'do we have the right?'" Linna asked. "How many more people
must he kill before we stop him?"
"Nene gave me a data disk that has background on Nemesis," said Sylia, still
calm. "He's never killed an innocent person before."
"So we wait until he does? How many innocent people were at the nightclub?"
"There weren't any harmless people left in the building when Nemesis attacked
it," Priss said scowling at the memory. "Someone set off a couple of smoke and stink
bombs that cleared out the place just before he hit it."
"And he started on the roof and worked his way down," said Sylia. "By the time
he reached the street, the only people inside were Yakuza, Priss and Leon."
"Don't remind me," Priss said with a shudder.
"Why?" Linna asked. "What did Nemesis do?"
"He killed every Yakuza the with the efficiency of a boomer." she took a deep
breath. "He must have run out of weapons on his suit, because he was using a Gerlitch
rifle to take out the Yakuza, each one with a single shot. There's nothing wrong with
his marksmanship."
"How can you admire what he did?" asked Linna angrily. "He murder those people
in cold blood!"
"I don't!" Priss snapped back. "And he didn't 'murder' Yakuza, he killed them."
"What's the difference?"
"Priss, Linna," said Sylia sharply, startling the pair with her tone. "Calm
down. Yelling at each other will not solve the question."
"Sylia's right," said Nene. "Priss, did Nemesis take a shot at either you or
Leon? When you in the nightclub?"
"No." Priss frowned. "He did recognize Leon though. Called him by name."
"The evidence seems to support that Nemesis has a good intelligence gathering
system," said Sylia.
"I may have a lead on that line of thought," said Nene.
"Oh?" said Sylia, turning to look at her. "Gathering intelligence by yourself?"
"No!" replied the redhead quickly "It's just Vicki Maoru mentioned that there's
a new cracker in town asking questions about the security around a couple of Yakuza
databases. Whoever they are, they called themselves 'Fleet Hermes', and I've put the
word out that I want to talk to them."
"What for?" Linna asked.
"To warn them off."
"Why?"
"Because Nemesis is upsetting the balance that the gangs have in the city,"
the ADP officer replied, her face serious. "Until now, the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza
has been the most powerful criminal group in the city. For the last five years, no
one has dare to oppose Sato's power. But Nemesis is making the Sleeping Dragon look
like idiots and some of the other gangs are going to try and take advantage of what
they see as Sato being weak."
"Which means we could have a gang war," Sylia finished. "While Sato doesn't
concern me, there are several gangs that will not care if there are innocent people
between them and their target. In short, a lot of people could die if Nemesis continues
his attacks."
"So, we have to stop him!" Linna said.
"How do we do that?" Sylia asked cooly. "He is clearly an expert in guerilla
warfare, and that hardsuit he was wearing when we met him had as much firepower as
all four of our suits. We know nothing about him, or even if it is a him. We are
starting with nothing." She looked at each of the others in turn. "We are not dealing
with a madman, but a intelligent, experienced warrior who strikes only at clearly
defined targets. He had no reason to kill that last Jager, except to save Nene from
being killed."
"But we can't allow that to "
"You're forgetting the other Jagers," said Nene. "He destroyed at least half
a dozen battlesuits all by himself just minutes before we saw him. I monitored the
ADP channels as we were making our way here, and Leon found a bunch of the battlesuits.
Their pilots never had a chance."
Linna opened her mouth to continue arguing, but Sylia said. "We cannot come to
a decision tonight. I suggest we get some rest and make the determination when were
less tired and have more facts to work with. Nene, I want a copy of all the police
reports about tonight as soon as you can."
"Right!"
"Until we have more then what we have now, I refuse to commit to a course of
action." Sylia looked at Linna. "That may change, once we have more data, but I am
not going to risk the team on something like this without careful consideration. In
the meantime, do not do anything about this on your own."
"What about 'Fleet Hermes'?" Nene asked.
"If they contact you, try to lean as much as you can. If this hacker is connected
to Nemesis, try and get them to back off. If they are willing to listen, explain what
will happen if Sato is hurt any more." Sylia glanced at the clock. "That's all for the
night. We'd better get some sleep now. If things do get out of hand, we may not get
another chance at a good night's rest for weeks."
Holton Junkyard Co.
District 5
February 11, 2036
12:51am
Gavin looked at the others around the table. "It could have gone better."
All five were sitting around a table in the underground bunker under the junk-
yard. The remnants of a hasty meal were scattered across the table, as was paper, pens,
and several cups of coffee. The air around the table was calm mixed with relief with
some vestiges of excitement coming from Marie.
"I don't see how," said Smitty. "We managed to eliminate four of Sato's business,
kill at least two hundred of his goons, and eliminated his Jager unit. What could have
gone better?"
"The nightclub was crawling with Yakuza," Gavin replied. He winced slightly as
he shifted in his chair.
Is that where you cracked those ribs?" Vicain asked from the far end of the table.
Gavin nodded. "Where did Sato get those Jager suits from? Marie, didn't you find
anything about them in Sato's system?"
"Sorry, Gav," his sister said meekly. "I should have thought about the possibility
when I went into Sato's system. It won't happen again, I promise."
"Don't blame yourself," said Gavin. "I am the one who should have accounted for
Sato's security plans, and I am the one he should have anticipated his little surprise
with the Jager battlesuits."
"Did you have any problems with the Knight Sabers?" Vicain asked.
"They weren't too thrilled with me, but I don't think they will try to stop me."
"What happens if Sato hires them to stop us?" asked Smitty. "Their hardsuits
are almost as good, they know the city better then us, and there's four of them."
"I don't think Sato will hire them," replied Gavin. "Kagemusha indicates that
the Sabers have some scruples."
"In any case, you didn't do too badly," said Sarge, a thin smile on his face.
"The latest ADP reports have managed to identify the remains of eight Jager suits so
far, and a couple of other that are possibles. You managed to severely mangle Sato's
ability to overwhelm you with technology."
"At least for now." Gavin stretched slightly. "Maria, Kagemusha should have sent
his latest intel report to the dead-drop email box. Will you check to see if it's there?"
Marie walked over to a computer in the corner of the room and typed a few keys.
Vicain looked at Gavin. "Who's Kagemusha?"
"He's a source we have inside the ADP," said Sarge.
"Inside the police department?" The professor frowned. "Can you trust him?"
"Yes. He was at San Ramon with us."
"Ah," said Vicain said slowly in understanding. "I didn't realize you kept in
touch with each other."
"We all do," said Gavin, quietly but firmly. "After what happened, we trust
very few people outside of the group. Kagemusha is the code name of a guy we use to
call 'Shadow', because he was so good at not being seen."
"'Shadow Warrior'," said Vicain carefully, translating Kagemusha into English.
"Who chose it? Him or you?"
"He did," Sarge replied.
"You're not going to tell me who he is, are you?"
Gavin shook his head. "No offence, Professor, but the less people who know
Kagemusha's real identity, the better it is for everyone."
"It's here!" Maria called out.
"Print it out and bring it over here," Gavin said.
"Okay, Gav." the soft whirl of a printer started ran for about ten seconds,
then stopped. Marie walked over to the table, a sheaf of papers in her hands. "I
think you need to see this."
"What?"
"I glanced at the stuff as it was printed out, and I don't like it." She handed
the papers to her brother.
Gavin read over the papers quickly. "Damn," he muttered softly.
"What?" asked Smitty.
"Shadow's saying that several of the other criminal outfits are getting ready
to move against Sato within the next twenty-four hours."
"So?" asked Smitty. "The more problems Sato's has, the less attention he'll be
able to pay to us."
"Some of those other gangs are as bad as Sato is, maybe even worse," Gavin replied.
"I don't want any of these groups to quickly step into the vacuum Sato's death will
leave."
"You're talking about expanding the scope of the strike," said Sarge.
"We may not have a choice. I don't want anyone benefitting from our actions."
"That's going to be tough. We're not set up for that type of operation."
"Can you switch gears?"
"I can try, but we'd better limit our strikes to critical ones only. With the
city in an uproar, any sudden purchases of weapons and ammo might attract attention."
"Marie?"
Marie looked at her brother, her expression expectant. "Yes, Gav?"
"Can you search for a list of warehouses that have the supplies we need?"
"How quick do you need it?"
"As soon as possible."
Marie bit her lip. "It may take me some time."
"As quickly as you can."
"I'd better get started then." Marie went back to the computer.
Vicain stood up. "I think the best thing we can do right now is get some rest,"
he said.
"The Professor's right, sir," said Sarge, also standing. "With those ribs, you
need to rest. Marie can dig out the data, the Hardsuits can wait for a couple of hours
before we work on them."
"Fine," said Gavin "Four hours down time, then we decide what to do next. Agreed?"
The others nodded. Smitty looked uneasy. "Do you think it'll come to an all-out
war against everyone in this city?" he asked.
"I hope not," Sarge muttered.
"We may not have any choice," said Gavin.
"But we can't take on the entire city!" said Smitty. "What happens if GENOM
becomes involved?"
"Then we regroup and reassess our options." He stood. "We've got things to do.
Let's do them."
Chapter 19
Ju-Ki Fine Arts Store
District 5
February 11, 2036
12:59am
From the street, the store looked dark and closed, devoid of any life at this
time of night. But that was an illusion, because there were people in the store.
The storage room in the back of the store was large and filled with products
for the showroom floor. But the men sitting at the table in the center of the room
weren't employees, nor were the men standing in the corners of the room. All the men
had the look of men use to violence, despite their expensive suits.
Shikichi Sato may have been the head of the largest and most powerful organized
crime gang in MegaTokyo, but he wasn't the only gang leader. The four men sitting around
the table were each powerful in their own right, but none of them could even hope to
match the strength or firepower of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza on their own.
At least not until now.
To find these four men in the same room would have greatly interested the N-
Police's Organized Crimes Unit, had they known about the meeting. But these men hadn't
reached their current positions by being stupid. They had slipped away from their homes
and their places of business without the OCU being the wiser. The store was a neutral
meeting ground, sometimes used for face-to-face meetings. Now them, and their bodyguards,
were here to discuss what providence in the form of a vigilante had provided them.
"It looks like our friend Sato is having a bad night," remarked one of the men
sitting at the table. Jimmy Chee was the head of the Suan-TouFung Triad, now the largest
triad based in the city. Young, arrogant, and a self-proclaimed 'expert on vice', Chee
was wearing an expensive blue suit and smoking a large cigar.
"How many men has he lost so far?" asked another crime lord.
"The body count is over two hundred, and that's expected to go up over the next
day." Chee puffed deeply on the cigar and blew out a large fog of smoke into the center
of the table where it slowly dissipated. "Looks like this guy Nemesis knows how to grab
Sato by the balls, eh?"
The second gang leader gave Chee a look of disgust. "Do you have to smoke that
damn cigar?"
Chee took the cigar out of his mouth and blew smoke across the table at the
speaker. "Chill, Adrik," he said cheerfully. "This is a time for celebration. We're
here to divide up Sato's carcass."
Adrik Smirnovski glared at the Triad leader. Smirnovski was the nominal head of
several Russian gangs in the city, a position he had held for almost as long as Chee
and been alive. While Chee was young, wild and flamboyant, Smirnovski was older, more
controlled in his emotions, and restrained in his dress and actions. Even now, in a
somber ensemble and wire-rimmed glasses, he looked more like a harried bank CEO then
a gang leader. But there was a coldness in his eyes that only came from years of
directing brutality. And Smirnovski was a brutal man.
"You're assuming Sato's going to roll over and die," said Willie Chung, as he
looked from Chee to Smirnovski and back again. "That is a stupid assumption." Chung
represented an alliance of Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, and Thai gangs in the city,
brought together by common interests. In manner and dress, he fell between Chee and
Smirnovski.
"I must agree," said the last member of the foursome. "The Sleeping Dragon is
wounded, but they are still dangerous."
"Which is why we must seize this chance!" said Chee, leaning forward, looking
at the other three. "Nemesis had done more damage to Sato in the last forty-eight hours
then we or the cops had in the past five years." He held his hand, then clenched it into
a fist. "This is a chance for us to move in and grab some or all of Sato's business!"
Smirnovski looked at the fourth member of the group. "Iwasaki-san, of all of us,
you know Sato the best. Is he weak enough to move against?"
Tomasuki Iwasaki looked at the other three. He was the Oyabun of the Red Willow
Yakuza, long-time rivals of the Sleeping Dragons. "I have waited for a chance to destroy
Sato for twenty years. I think that time is now."
"So the Red Willow are with us?" asked Chee eagerly.
Iwasaki looked at the younger man cooly. "If the plan is sound, we will take
part."
Chee smiled. "If we, the largest gangs in the city, cannot take down the Sleeping
Dragons, then no one can."
"I wouldn't forget Karns," said Chung. "You of all people should remember him."
The triad leader shrugged. "Karns isn't a threat. He will be taken care of in
time."
"That's what Ronnie Yee thought," said Smirnovski with a frown. "You didn't have
any problems picking up what was left of the Red Cobras' operations after Skeeter finished
with them, did you?"
Chee waved a hand in dismissal. "Karns will get what he deserves later on. But
it's Sato we're here to talk about." he glanced at Smirnovski and Chung. "Are you two
in?"
"I agree with Iwasaki," replied the Russian. "If the plan is feasible, we will
support it."
"I need to make a few phone calls," Chung said, standing. "That's going to take
some time."
The triad leader looked at him. "We don't have a lot of time. There's no telling
how much longer Nemesis is going to be around." Chung nodded and walked over to a corner,
his bodyguards following. He pulled out a phone and started dialing.
"What happens if Nemesis decides that the Sleeping Dragon are only the beginning?"
asked Iwasaki. "If he starts on us, we could end up just like Sato."
"Take on the entire city's underworld?" Chee snorted in disgust. "You're beginning
to sound like old ladies."
"We are being cautious," Smirnovski replied. "We are willing to risk grabbing a
piece of Sato's pie, but we're not going to expose ourselves to attack by Nemesis or
other forces."
"That's fair enough. But we cannot delay. If Nemesis quits or is taken out,
Sato's going to have time to recover, and our chance will be lost."
"So how do we divide up the spoils?" asked Iwasaki
Chee leaned forward and took the cigar out of his mouth. "I have people cracking
into Sato's records even as we speak. Once we have a list, we divide up the businesses
between us. Whoever's territory is closes to the target gets the right of first refusal.
Any targets that two or more groups want will be decided by chance a coin flip, deck
of cards, or a roll of the dice. Fair enough?"
"Concise," said Smirnovski. "It sound fair."
"I think we can agree to that," added Iwasaki.
Chee looked over his shoulder at Chung, who was being animated as he spoke into
his phone. "I think we can include the gangs Willie represents too."
"How long to get the lists?" asked Smirnovski.
"No more then two hours," replied Chee easily.
"Good." The Russian stood up. "I suggest we meet again in two hours. The Golden
Stallion, over in Tinsel City."
"I know it," said Chee, his smile fading somewhat. "I didn't realize it was one
of your places."
"It isn't," Smirnovski replied. "It belongs to one of Mr. Chung's associates."
He motioned to his bodyguards. "See you in a couple of hours."
Shikichi Sato's home
District 4
February 11, 2036
12:51am
The air inside the Oyabun's office was tense. The night's disaster had stunned
them with its violence and suddenness. All twelve of the Jager suits had been destroyed
in battle, with only a single pilot surviving Nemesis' onslaught. Four business,
including the Fu-Shui nightclub, were completely destroyed. The number of dead gang
members was climbing every hour as emergency crews found more Yakuza bodies in the
smoking rubble.
The mood outside the room wasn't much better. The grounds of Sato's estate were
swarming with Yakuza gunmen, while a dozen N-Police cars sat outside the gates, the
police waiting for the go-ahead to force their way into the compound. Behind them,
twice as many news vehicles were ready to come as the second wave. The press was
covering the attacks with same intensity reserved for political scandals and major
wars, forcing Sato to screen all phone calls. About the only good news was that Satoru
had finally been released from police custody and was on his way with a first-hand report
of what happened at the nightclub.
Sato looked at the other two men in the office with him. He didn't look like it,
but he was seething. "Is there an explanation for our failure?" he asked Kazuo Honjuji
in a mild tone.
The so-honbucho bowed his head. "I am at fault, sir," he said. "I underestimated
Nemesis' skill and intelligence. I am sorry." He reached into his jacket pocket and
removed something wrapped in a white cloth.
"There is no time for that now!" Sato snapped. "If the police were to enter
the grounds right now and find you have just committed Yubitsume, we'll not be able
to get rid of them!"
Honjuji hung his head. "I'm sorry, sir I "
The Oyabun slammed his hand down on the desk. "This is not the time to fix
blame!" he snarled. "This Nemesis has threatened our very survival. He has cost us
more in these last two days then the police and the other gangs have in two decades!
If we suffer any more losses, we will not be able to protect what we hold now. Even
now, I have a report that Iwasaki has put his own gangs on alert."
"You fear that he may try something?" asked Norihisa Ichitaro.
"I know he will try something," Sato growled. "He has hated our wealth and power
for years, but he didn't dare challenge us, not when he knew he didn't have a chance.
But he senses blood in the water now, and he's moving to take advantage of it. Also,
Chee and Smirnovski have been sniffing around several of our front companies. I wouldn't
put it past them to ally themselves with Iwasaki with the sole purpose to finish what
this Nemesis has started."
"So what are your orders, Sir?" asked Honjuji.
"Order every single gang out onto the street. Let it be known that will give
a million yen to any person who can give us information that lead to us tracking down
Nemesis. If we haven't found him by this time tomorrow night, double the reward, and
keep doubling it every twenty-four hours until he is found."
"Yes sir."
Sato leaned back in his chair. "Activate the combat boomers," he said slowly.
"We cannot afford to lose any more men, money, or face in this matter."
"Yes sir!" the so-honbucho replied. "Do you have any orders regarding the
deployment of the boomers?"
"What is our current strength in boomers?"
"We have four BU-12B anti-tank models, four BU-12B air defense models, and a
dozen other BU-12Bs models. In addition, we have five of the BU-15 Goblins and three
BU-17 Hellraisers. A pair of BU-96C reconnaissance boomers, fifteen of the BU-55Cs
and three dozen of the older BU-35Cs complete the inventory."
The Oyabun nodded. "I want the anti-tank and air defense boomers here to guard
this compound. A 55C and a pair of the 35Cs will be assigned as personal bodyguards
to each senior member of the organization, with the extra assigned here. I want the
Goblins, any 12B reconnaissance models we have, and the two 96s to be out and searching
for Nemesis until daybreak. The other 12s and the Hellraisers will act as our basic
striking force, augmented by the AT and AD boomers, and men, as needed. If necessary,
we will use the boomers against Iwasaki, Chee and Smirnovski, or any other group that
dares to challenge us."
"May I make a further suggestion?" Ichitaro asked. "We could used our stable
of fighting boomers to help strengthen security at key operation points. There are,
of course inferior to our other boomers, but they can stiffen the resolve of our men,
give our other opponents something to think about, and slow down Nemesis long enough
for us to send overwhelming force."
"Do so," said Soto. "We will not leave any stone unturned on this. Nemesis has
thrown down the gauntlet. We must show him the error of his ways." The phone on the
desk buzzed. Sato picked up the receiver. "Yes?...Do they have a warrant?.... Is every-
thing questionable been removed from sight?.... Good. In that case, let them in." He
hung up the phone and looked at his lieutenants. "That was the front gate. The police
have a warrant to search the estate and are demanding entry."
That is serious," said Ichitaro.
Sato looked at his second in command. "Let's not stand here and wait. Ichitaro,
meet the officers at the front door, escort them here and call our lawyer."
He then looked at his headquarters chief. "Honjuji, you are to activate the plan
we have just discussed here. Use the secondary communications room to send out the
orders. Use the highest security level."
"Yes sir! I think we should use the bunker in the south woods for the assembly
point for the boomers assigned here."
Sato nodded briefly. "Stay in the secondary communications room until the police
have left. Now, go and perform those tasks."
Both Ichitaro and Honjuji left the office. Sato turned and looked out the window
that was behind his desk. Even as he did so, he could see the N-police cars race up the
driveway, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Disgusting.
He turned away and folded his hands in his desk. Nemesis was proving to be an
opponent of skill and power. It was clear that the Sleeping Dragon was now fighting
for its life, a fight Sato had no intension of losing. Nemesis was a dangerous opponent,
but he was only one man in a land and culture not his own. While San Angeles was American,
this was Japan. This was Sato's homeland, his land of birth. His family had been Yakuza
for generations, and before that, Samurai. He wouldn't roll over and die for the other
gangs in the city that waited for his downfall, why should this ketou be any different?
No, Kousotsu, he thought. Your vengeance ends here. I cannot let you win. I will
not let you win. On the blood of my ancestor, I swear this!
ADP Headquarters
February 11, 2036
2:11am
A hand shook Leon awake.
As he didn't know when he was going to get another chance as long as Nemesis
was in town, he'd taken the couch in one of the waiting rooms to try and get some
sleep. But it looked like he wasn't going to get any more right now.
"What?" the ADP Inspector muttered, struggling to open his eyes.
"You better get up," said Daley.
"Why," Leon muttered, looking up at his partner through half-closed lids, "did
Godzilla finally show up?"
"No, but the pictures Gamble promised us did."
Leon sat up. "That was fast."
"He seemed to be motivated." Daley had a couple of folders in his hand. He opened
one and pulled out several photos and handed them to his partner. "This guy look familiar?"
As he wiped the sleep from his eyes, Leon took the photos from his partner and
looked at them. He gazed at the first one for several seconds, then went onto the next,
then the next. As he looked at the man in every photo, his mind drifted back to several
hours ago....
As he and Priss came abreast of the short corridor leading to the bathroom, a
short, broad-shouldered man with a graying crewcut rapidly emerged from the corridor
and plowed right into both of them. The only thing that saved Priss from being knocked
down was his grip on her arm. The man mouthed "Excuse me," and headed for the front
door.
"Watch where you're going!" he had shouted at the retreating man. Muttering to
himself, he'd quickly checked for his wallet and gun, and relaxed as he determined that
he still had both.
A short, broad-shouldered man with a graying crewcut rapidly emerged from the
corridor....
"This is the guy I bumped into at the nightclub," said Leon, looking up at his
partner.
"Your sure?"
"Positive."
"Looks like a long shot finally paid off. Assuming he had anything to do with
the attack on the nightclub."
"Remember the explosions in the bathroom that drove all the civilians out? That
where this guy was coming from when he bumped into me and Priss. He may not be Nemesis,
but I'd bet a month's pay this guy is working with him." He handed the photos back to
Daley. "Let's see if we can get a match with US military records on this guy. Gamble
said this guy acted and sounded like an American military type."
"You're assuming that this guy is really an American," said Daley, replacing the
photos inside the folder.
"It fits with what else we know about Nemesis. All his targets before this have
been in the continental United States. Our friend in the hardsuit clearly has military
training, probably Special Forces. It stands to reason that the people he'd trust the
most are people he served with."
"Other SpecFor types," replied Daley. "This guy must be Nemesis' point man, buying
supplies and arranging things."
"This is the first time there's been any real evidence of there being more then
one person behind Nemesis. There's been speculation, but no hard proof until now."
"Speaking of SpecFor, I think now know why Nemesis is here." Daley opened the
other folder and pulled out several sheets of paper and handed them to Leon. "I have
a friend in the San Angles police, and he passed these onto me. I got them five minutes
before I got the pictures."
Leon took them and glanced over them. They showed a young woman, killed in a
violent manner. "Who is she?"
"She was Josie Ng, one of San Angles' top investigative reporters. She was
investigating Sleeping Dragon Yakuza connections to several San Angles Councilpersons
when the SAPD dragged her out of San Fran Bay. Whoever killed her was a sadistic Son
of a Bitch."
"Any clue that the Sleeping Dragons were behind it?"
"Nothing the law could pin on them. The head of the San Angles branch of the
Sleeping Dragon was one of the new breed of Yakuza screw the old code of honor,
grab everything you can, and to hell with the old ways. He was feeling the heat from
Ng's investigation, and the SAPD knows this guy ordered the hit, probably without
Sato's knowledge or permission."
"What's the connection?" Leon asked as he stood up and stretched.
"Less then a week after Ng's body was recovered, Nemesis showed up."
"Coincidence?"
Daley shrugged. "I don't think so. Did you read over those reports on Nemesis
that Nene pulled together?"
"Mostly."
"I read them all, and there's an interesting shift in our friend's operations
against the Sleeping Dragon that isn't there with the other operations."
"I need coffee," Leon mumbled as he headed to the door. "What shift?"
The red-headed Inspector followed. "We know Nemesis is ruthless, but his
operations against the West Coast arm of the Sleeping Dragons were downright savage.
Two days before the first strike, he phoned the SAPD and told them to get every
single undercover officer inside the Yakuza out of the way because he wasn't going
to be held responsible for their deaths."
"And they did that?"
"Not until Nemesis demolished an entire ten story building owned by Sato that
hosted a white slavery operation in the basement. He called the SAPD again, this time
with a list of the undercover officers, and told them the same thing the first time
he called. The chief didn't need a third time."
"That was considerate of him."
"That's just the start. Nemesis usually doesn't leave many wounded or living
criminals in his wake to begin with, but this time, he didn't leave a single Yakuza
member alive."
They were out in the corridor now, walking towards the squad room. "He killed
every single member of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza in San Angles?" Leon asked, looking
at his partner.
Daley nodded. "Our boy was very through in his destruction this time. Everything
Sato owned in the city was razed to the ground. He made it a point of executing even
the wounded Yakuza. I would say this was personal this time."
"What about the head of the operation? Did Nemesis get him too?"
"Oh, yah. Remember what happened to the head of the Red Cobras? Triple the damage,
and you'll come close to what Nemesis did to the guy."
Leon winced. It had been easier to count the number of Ronnie Yee's bones that
hadn't been broken than the ones that were. Everyone in the city knew it had been Skeeter
Karns, but there was no way to prove it in a court of law. "That does sound like he's
pissed."
"Here's the kicker, the thing that might tie San Angles in with your crew-cut
friend."
They entered the squad room. Despite the lateness of the hour, the room was
packed with ADP troopers and detectives. The noise level made it impossible to continue
the conversation, and the red-head didn't want to shout out his information in public.
So, he waited until Leon grabbed a cup coffee that had earned the nickname 'ADP fuel'
for its strength, then pointed towards an interrogation room.
They reached the room, and Leon closed the door behind them, shutting out most
of the sounds from the squad room. "What's the kicker?"
"Josie Ng had a younger brother by the name of Jackson Ng," Daley replied. "Was
in the military until about four years ago, when he was given a medical discharge. He
was wounded in the line of duty someplace in South America, missing most of both legs.
Get this, I managed to find out that this guy was in SpecFor."
"Bingo!" said Leon. "Our link."
"Like you said, the people these guys trust the most are people they served
with."
"Makes sense. Ng wants revenge for his sister, but he can't take on the entire
Yakuza by himself. But he knows Nemesis can, and he knows who Nemesis is. So, he calls
his friend and explains what has happened, and "
"Sato is on the wrong end of a Nemesis strike," Daley finished. "Makes sense."
"Where is Jackson Ng?"
"No one knows. He vanished the same night Nemesis started his war with Sato."
"He's probably in hiding." Leon drained half the cup and looked at him. "When
is Nene due in?"
"About her regular time. Eight o'clock. Why?"
"We need her to do a bit of creative hacking."
"Into what?"
"The United States Army Special Forces computer database."
Daley frowned. "That's not a good idea."
"We need to find out who Ng served with or knew. You know the SpecFor people are
not going to give us the time of day. They're a closed book unless you're one of theirs."
"If they find out we've been cracking into their files, we'll be lucky just to
be fired. They are not people to be messed around with."
"Neither am I." Leon finished the coffee. "Check our soldier friend's image with
the database over at Border Police HQ. Maybe he came in the front door instead of sneaking
in the back. If he did, they'll be a record of him."
"Do you want us to release the image to the public and other police agencies?"
"Not yet. Soto and his boy are looking for Nemesis, and they have better street
sources then we do. Sato will be looking for this guy five minutes after he gets a copy
of the pictures. If anyone's going to get to Nemesis first, its going to be us."
"Now that's a comforting thought," Daley muttered.
Chapter 20
Holton Junkyard Co.
District 5
February 11, 2036
2:39am
Maria Belasko was a genius.
At an age that should have been devoted to schoolwork, boyfriends and dreaming
about her first kiss, Maria's attention was focused on networks, bytes, and avoiding
system security in cyberspace. She didn't miss the life of a normal teenage girl what
she was doing was more important. She was helping her brother make the world a safer
place. She didn't question Gavin's methods, not after seeing both their parents die in
a hail of bullets four years before.
She blinked, then stretched and yawned. She had just made another run into the
Sleeping Dragon Yakuza's private database, with some success. Despite everything that
had happened, no one inside the gang had gotten around to securing the database from
her well-planned intrusions. Time to take a break.
She stood and walked over to the kitchen area of the base. She made herself a
peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich, poured a glass of milk, and sat down. She ate slowly,
her mind wandering back to the start of all of this all the birth of Nemesis....
It had been over four years ago. They had all been in a restaurant in Mega New
York were celebrating Gavin's discharge from the Army. Maria had noticed that night
there had been some tension between Gavin and their father, but there had always been
tension between the two. Both were strong-willed men who didn't like to back down over
anything. The result was quarrels that pitted will against will as both men dug in and
continued on. It was frequently Maria and her mother that had to interceded before the
arguments came to blows.
Maria had read the police report of the incident, but the words beared little
resemblance to the actual events as she had lived through. Also in the restaurant at
the time was one of the city's leading drug kingpins. Maria vaguely remembered the man,
but her attention had been more focused on her family then the people around her. She
never saw the trio of men who walked into the restaurant, draw submachine guns from
under their coats and open fire, spraying the room with bullets.
The kingpin had died, as well as most of his bodyguards. Seventeen innocent
people also died in the hail of bullets, including both senior Belaskos. Neither one
had a chance. Maria and her brother only survived because his combat reflexes were
still sharp, and he had dropped a scant second before the thugs had opened fire, pulling
her down with him. Their father had tried to do the same thing with their mother, but
they were both hit before they could reach the floor. The thugs had gotten away clean.
She could still remember the look Gavin had worn when their parents were buried.
It was one of cold fury, the type of look she knew well. The look that said that someone
was going to pay for this. And if there was someone who could make these thugs pay it
was Gavin Belasko, former Captain, US Army Special Forces.
And he had. Over a period of weeks, he'd moved through the city's underground,
picking up the hard intelligence on the people behind the attack. He not only get the
names of the men who killed his parents, he soon found out that things were worse then
he had thought. The man behind this attack was a man by the name of Bruns Ivanov, known
around the city as the Drug Lord, and was part of a continuing war. A war to control
the city's drug trade, and everyone in the city, innocent or not, was fair game. In
Gavin's eyes, it was time to change the rules.
Two months after the death of the Belaskos, one of the three triggermen in the
restaurant attack was found in an alley with two bullets in his brain. A sign was found
hung around the neck. 'JUDGEMENT IS COMING,' it had read in neat block letters, and it
had for this man in a quick and brutal manner. A week later, the second assassin was
either thrown and jumped off a twentieth floor balcony. A card with the word NEMESIS,
printed in the same block letters as the sign on the first body, was found in the room.
The Press called this unknown killer, 'Nemesis'
The third man in the attack was found two weeks later, a single bullet between
the eyes and a small card that said, "JUDGEMENT IS HERE."
To say that Ivanov reacted badly was putting it mildly. Overnight, there was a
twenty-five thousand dollar reward for the head of this Nemesis. Nemesis had responded
by destroying two of the gang's drug labs and killing twenty members. The reward went
up to fifty thousand dollars, and Nemesis took out another three targets, adding another
twenty-three criminal to his kill totals. The police tried to interfere, only to find
themselves shut out of the war by both sides. The gang had too many city officials in
their pockets to allow the Police into the matter, while Nemesis was an unknown in a
city of fifteen million.
It had only taken Maria ten minutes to figure out it was Gavin who was behind the
attacks on the gangs. Edmond Belasko may have been a stubborn man, but he's help raise
two children who did not shirk their duty. As far as Gavin was concerned, the destruction
of the gang who had killed his parents was his duty.
And it was Maria's duty to help her brother to complete his mission.
She had discovered an almost magical ability with computers when she was six,
and she had spent the last seven years honing her skills, up to and including cracking
databases. She had never been serious about using her skills to systematically rob data-
bases, but she had no choice. Gavin was going to need every single bit of intelligence
he could get, and she could help.
And she had done so. She had located the drug lord's database, slipped past its
out-of-data firewall and wrung it dry of all data before she left, all without leaving
a trace. She then checked the MNYPD's data base for evidence to Nemesis' identity, and
made sure to eliminate anything in the data files that could lead them to Gavin
When she presented the data to her brother, he'd taken a long look at her and
told her this wasn't her fight. She had been more forceful in her contention that this
was as much her fight as Gavin's. She couldn't fight them like Gavin could, but she
could do more with a few keystrokes then a full squad of soldiers could. After an
argument, he had accepted her as part of the team.
Armed with the complete database, Nemesis had stepped up his attack. The attacks
became worse and worse as Gavin continued to wage a guerilla-style was against the Drug
Lord. One of Ivanov's senior lieutenants was killed by a sniper, another when his car
exploded in his private parking lot. A couple of business used by the gang to launder
money were destroyed, and huge amounts of money went missing.
While Gavin continued his one-man war, Maria started leaking data she collected
to both the police and the press. Names of crooked cops, lawyers, judges, and politicians
found their way to certain people in the press and police department, with enough evidence
to start investigations. This had the result of blinding and crippling the Drug Lord's
influence, forcing him to try and flee the county late one night.
He never made the airport.
The police found the remains of Ivanov's armored limo and the two escort cars
on the freeway going towards the airport early in the morning. It was only after the
US Army reported the theft of a fully-armed Apache III helicopter gunship the day before
did the police discover how Nemesis had managed to wipe out three cars, twenty-three
heavily armed gang members, and the Drug Lord himself. In addition, the private jet
that had been waiting for the gang leader had been destroyed on the ground that same
night by a missile-firing helicopter. The Apache was then later recovered, it's ammo
load completely exhausted in the assault on the gang's escape column. Maria had made
sure there was no mention of Gavin's helicopter piloting skills in his military records
For a while, Maria had thought that would be it, that since their parents had
been avenged. But Gavin retain that look of cold fury after the death of Ivanov. He
continued to prowl the streets at night, often coming home bruised and sometimes bloody.
The number of muggings and other serious crimes dropped significantly in the city during
this time, with a corresponding rise in the number of dead thugs, but it wasn't enough
for Gavin.
After a particularly nasty fight with a trio of skinheads, Maria asked her brother
why he was doing this. Because it is right, he had told her, Because these people under-
stand only force. You cannot appease them, bargain with them, or appeal to their better
nature. They are jackals, thinking they are beyond the laws of civilization. It is more
then men like Ivanov. It is the drug dealers, the loan sharks, the men who kill others
for money or ideology, and the ones who profit from other people's misery.
But it is even more then the organized crime cartels. It is the terrorist groups
that make their political points in innocent blood, the sole predators who steal innocence
from those who needed it the most, and the ones who inflict pain just for the pleasure
of hurting someone else. There are also those who put money and power above their own
humanity, think of themselves as being above the law because they have the money. They
are all cancers on the soul of man, cancers that has been allowed to long to fester. I
defended this county as a soldier, and I cannot walk away, cannot sit idly by and watch
these people pull us down into destruction.
But can't the police do this? Maria had asked him.
The police and government are bound by laws, but these criminals aren't. Those
these animals cannot corrupt, they kill. They manipulate the laws to their advantage,
shield themselves behind high-priced lawyers, and fell safe as the authorities tries
to discover enough evidence to convict them. No more! They need to learn that their
days of safety are numbered.
But you're only one person! Maria had then shouted at him.
But I can make a difference, he had told her. One man, operating outside the law,
can fight these groups. I can attack these people without being bound by the rules that
hamper the police and other law enforcement. I can hit them where it will hurt. Their
illegal money-making business, their structure, their people. I can put fear into them,
I can make them look over their shoulder, I can repay them back some of the pain and
terror that they have caused. I can be the vengeance of those who cannot speak up. I can
be their Nemesis.
Like Mom and Dad's? Maria had asked him softly.
Yes.
Then, let me help.
The rest of that argument was nothing compared to the first argument. Absolutely
not! He had told her. This is my fight, not yours!
Maria had been unmoving in her decisions. This is my fight also, she had replied.
You need my help, I can get inside these gang's networks and discover the best places
for you to hit. I can help muddy the waters by confusing any police investigations. I
can feed the police information about the gangs to help them pick up what's left after
you've finished. You need me.
It had taken several hours, but Maria had managed to wear her brother down until
he'd agreed to her help. Over the next several months, both Belaskos prepared for the
new war they would be waging. Gavin began buying weapons and ammo, arranging safehouses,
and training himself back to the level he'd been at in the army and beyond. Maria hacked
into different networks, collecting and collating data, building up a database of the
most dangerous crime cartels in the country. Police databases were the first stop, to
get the basics on the mobs. The next step were the databases of businesses own by the
gangs, then the gang's private databases.
It soon became clear to Maria that she got a rush out of cracking networks. It
was a challenge, a puzzle that needed to be solved., and she reveled in it. She found
it to be a thrill to slip into a network, collect all the important data, then slip
away without leaving a trace. She was never malicious or destructive in her forays,
preferring stealth over brute force.
It was just as they were getting ready to start this new war did fate drop the
largest piece of Nemesis, in the form of Matthew 'Sarge' Hemmer, into their laps. Sarge
had served under Gavin in the Army and had gotten out about the same time. A twenty-year
man, Sarge's skills were in intelligence and reconnaissance.
He'd gone to work for a small weapons company called HiGuard as an expert
advisor, and things had gone well for a while. But them someone had tried to take
over the company a hostile takeover that went far beyond the normal buying of
company stock and buyout offers. After HiGuard's CEO and CFO were killed in a car
'accident', Hemmer went underground and started his own investigation into the people
who were behind the takeover. What he found chilled him. The man behind the takeover
was Yvon Heuse, one of the world's top arms dealers, an amoral businessman who only
cared that his customers had the cash for his wares. He was after HiGuard because of
one of the new weapons that was in development with the company a battlesuit that
was on the cutting edge of technology. Only one man at HiGuard had the necessary
knowledge to construct the battlesuit, a Professor Roland Vicain, who had disappeared
after the death of the company's executives. Needing backup, Hemmer contacted Gavin
and explained the situation. It took Gavin only seconds to agree to help.
They found the professor in a safehouse on the outskirts of the city. Given a
choice of escaping or being captured and forced to build the suit for Heuse, Vicain
sided with the two ex-soldiers. They managed to escape out the back door of the safe-
house as a team of Heuse's men came through the front. After a rough chase, Gavin and
the others managed to get away. Now a hunted man, Vicain threw in with Gavin, offering
to build the battlesuit for Gavin's war. Sarge, happy to be reunited with his former
CO, also sided with Gavin.
It took two months to build the suit. During that time, Sarge recruited another
former member of Gavin's unit. Harland 'Smitty' Smith was an armorer, well versed in
the design, building, repairing, and maintenance of weapon systems. With his help, the
weapons system for the battlesuit were smoothly integrated with the suit's control
systems.
All this time, Heuse's men continued to search for Vicain. After buying the
company from the survivors, the arms dealer was thrown into anger when he discovered
that there was nothing left in the company's database on the battlesuit's design. Now
realizing that his only choice was to hunt down Vicain, Heuse started a massive manhunt.
The search was unsuccessful, as the small group kept moving, staying one step ahead of
the hunt. Disgusted at the lack of progress, Heuse went back to Miami, his base of
operations.
With the battlesuit now ready, it was decided by Gavin and the others to go after
Heuse first. So, the new Nemesis began his war on the arms dealer's home turf. With
Maria's hacking skills, Sarge's intelligence gathering. Vicain and Smitty's technical
expertise, and Gavin's tactical mind, Heuse's empire blew apart in four days. Heuse's
only glimpse of the battlesuit that he'd tried to grab for himself was when Nemesis
stormed the arms dealer's fortified estate after destroying most of Heuse's organization.
The arms dealer didn't survive long enough for a second look....
In the past four years, the team had faced drug smugglers, white slavers, radical
separatists, religious fanatics, and criminals cartels. It didn't take long for the
team to fall into a rhythm at the beginning of each campaign. Each time, the enemy's
computers had been hacked, locations of its businesses scouted, and its weaknesses
targeted. Then, in a space of several days, Nemesis would ravage the gang's structure,
destroying its cohesion and killing anyone who could rally the remainder. It had been
Maria's idea to send the local police force a packet of evidence to finish the job that
Gavin started. Then they would move onto a new campaign.
Maria sighed. Even after all this time, Gavin didn't like the fact she was with
them, but where else could she go? There was no one who could take her, and Gavin wasn't
about to let her live on her own, even if he didn't want her involved with his war. And
since she was with them, she had to do something to earn her keep.
She stood, went and made another peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich, poured herself
another glass of milk, and went back to the table. Gavin didn't understand. He was a
soldier, a warrior who had been trained to fight for first his country, now for his
belief in a better tomorrow. Sarge and Smitty were the same way all of them were
veterans in an activity Maria couldn't hope to compete in.
Maria was a warrior of a different sort. Her battlefields were silicon and
electricity, her weapons programs and her mind, her gains measured in strings of 1
and 0's, her enemies other programs and security people tasked with protecting the
databases. As Gavin and the others knew and practiced their craft in the warzone,
Maria did the same in her field. Gavin may be the one who walked into the firestorm
of war, but it was Maria who provided the map to guide him in and out.
She finished the rest of the sandwich as she walked back to her computer. As she
sat down, she glanced at her watch. Time to check my E-mail, she thought. She called
up her E-mail program and scanned the list of messages waiting for her. A few were
junk Emails, while most of the others were friendly 'hello's' from Crackers she knew,
though only through the computer. One message title caught her eye. Curious, she clicked
on it.
Subject: Looking For Fleet Hermes
From: Yacker44455@Megnanet.com
To: WackerL@Lacar.net, 753665589@MegaTokyo.net,
PhiloNew@Arca.org.jp, Moi45@Koi.com, NemHelp@backwater.net,
Trboweasel@ghyphon.com, RHH@dawble.adp.gov.jp, ArbyDuck@kospi.net.kr
Rwiseman@Orcakon.com, QueenElectric@hideaway.com
Do any of you know Fleet Hermes in RL? If you do, could you
pass along the word that RHH wants to talk to them? She's
promised that it's a straight meet.
Thanks,
Yacker
Maria frowned. Who was RHH? She looked at the list of addresses, and one of
them stood out: RHH@dawble.adp.gov.jp
ADP? What the hell? She looked at the message again. Yacker was one of the better
hackers in the city, as was most of these people on the list. ADP didn't handle computer
crimes unless it had something to do with boomers.
Maria reread the message yet again. She's promised that it's a straight meet.
That meant that 'RHH' was a female..... Did that mean that 'RHH' was a member of the
ADP?
She saved off a copy of the email and switched over to cracking mode. I need to
try and find the 'RHH' before I do anything else, she thought. Now where to start?
First, let's see if the ADP has a server 'dawble'. She called up the layout for
the ADP system and looked at it. There was no server 'dawble' listed. Unless 'dawble'
is a virtual server that bounces any emails to another location.....
That would make sense. Use the ADP's computer email system to route messages to
another location would make tracking difficult but not impossible. RHH must either be
real sure of herself, assuming she was a she, or very clever. After a moment, she
considered the latter. If Yakker didn't think RHH was on the up and up, they wouldn't
have posted the message.
She continued searching for 'dawble' on the ADP system, for another half hour
before she shook her head in disgust.This isn't working.... She sighed then shut down
the machine. I need to do this search in VR.
She stood, went over to another computer and turned it on. Unlike her other
computer, this one was set up for use in Virtual Reality. As the computer was warming
up, she slipped on a pair of VR gloves and goggles. Let's see if I can find the virtual
server first, then I can trace where it's sending RHH's email.
She tapped in a sequence of commands, then slipped the goggles over her eyes.
There was a moment of disorientation, but it cleared quickly. In the guise of a routine
maintenance program, she slipped into the ADP network through a small hole she had
created in the firewall.
After ten minutes of fruitless searching, she exited the system and lifted the
goggles. Whoever RHH is, she thought, giving the unknown hacker grudging credit, they
are very good. Wherever this 'dawble' is, it's well hidden in that system. I wonder
how they managed to hide it from the ADP security people?
She yawned and stretched, then glanced at her watch. I'll send this RHH an email,
then follow the E-mail to wherever this 'dawble' is, and then....
And then what? What would she say in the message? Would a dummy message reach
RHH, or would it get shuttled off into an electronic backwater?
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. Damn it! Too many questions, and I'm
too tired to think straight. Sleep first, then I'll think about what to do next.
She shut down the computer, stood up, and went to the small area that was her
sleeping area. She laid down on the military-surplus cot and pulled the blankets up to
her chin. It would be nice to talk to someone new, was the last thought she had before
sleep claimed her.
District 7
February 11, 2036
9:23am
Priss guided the motorcycle into a parking space near the orphanage's main
entrance. She shut off the engine after putting down the kickstand, removed her helmet
and looked around.
The orphanage had the same look of slight decay it had when Priss was first sent
here - was it only ten years ago? The new wing retained a clean look that seemed at
odds with the rest of the building. But since its construction, it had absorbed the
air of helplessness that hung around the building like a ghastly wreath.
Priss looked up at the off-white building and again felt the sadness and anger
from that time not so long ago. The place hadn't changed much since she had run away,
and probably never would. It was a legacy of the Second Kanto Earthquake, a place to
house and teach the orphans who had nowhere else to go after that disaster. Despite
their best efforts, the staff couldn't replace the love and support of a family. It
was a cold place, a place that held no good memories for her.
The only reason why she came down here once a week was Sho, the son of a friend
who had died due to the greed of GENOM. The Sabers had taken a measure of revenge against
the mega-corporation, resulting in the death of Brian J. Mason, but that didn't give
Sho back his mother. Priss tried to give the boy someone he could talk to, but at best,
she could act as an older sister. There were too many obstacles for her to adopt the boy
herself, so both had to settle for these weekly visits.
She could hear children shouting and laughing in the distance, but there was no
one else in sight. She got off the cycle slowly, hung her helmet on the handlebars, and
walked up the stairs to the front entrance. It was only when she was half way up the
stairs that Priss saw the person waiting at the top of the stairs.
Mrs. Herohata watched Priss climb the rest of the staircase. She was maybe fifteen
years older then Priss, slightly taller and thinner then the singer, with short dark
hair. She slowly placed the large round glasses so they balanced on the edge of her
nose and stared down at Priss.
Priss glared back up at her. "You haven't changed much, have you?"
"Good Morning, Miss Asgiri," replied Herohata evenly. "Are you here to see Sho?"
"You know I am." Priss eyes narrowed. "Is there something wrong? Is Sho all right?"
"Sho is fine - you can see him after we talk. However, I wanted to talk to you
about a situation that has come up."
"What sort of situation?"
"We'd better talk in my office." She lead Priss inside.
The entrance was the same dull and lifeless, steel and concrete, hall that had
been here before Priss first came in and would likely be the same after she passed on.
Their footsteps rang in the enclosed space, the echo sounding hollow and staid. The air
of impotence was stronger in here, reminding Priss of the main reason she had 'escape'
this place before it could sink into her. The fact that she had left with little attempt
by the orphanage's staff to bring her back told her she had made the right decision.
The office hadn't changed much since the last time Priss had been in it. The paint
on the walls was new, but the desk was the same as she remembered it, a wooden monster
that had outlasted the last six directors of the Orphanage and an unknown number of
bureaucrats before that. The chair and computer looked worn, but serviceable.
Herohata waved Priss to a chair, and claimed the one behind the desk. She leaned
back and looked at the singer. "You and I have had our differences in the past," she
said, steepling her fingers and placing them under her chain. "But, to the best of my
knowledge, you have never lied to me. Is that a fair statement?"
"You know it is," grumbled Priss. "What's going on?"
Herohata leaned forward and opened a drawer on the right-hand side of the desk.
She pulled out a small duffle bag and causally placed it on the desk. "This was handed
to one of our administrators this morning."
"What's in it?"
"See for yourself."
Priss opened the bag slowly, not certain of what the bag held. It took her several
seconds to realize the bundles in the bag were made up of money. Her eyes widened slightly
as she reached in, pulled out a bundle and gazed at it. She caught the slight taint of
smoke as she did so and she frowned. "It looks real," she said slowly, with a frown.
"It is real," replied Herohata. "We haven't counted it yet, but our best guess
is there's about a million yen in there."
Priss let out a low whistle, and carefully dropped the bundle back into the duffle
bag before handing it back to the administrator. "That is a lot of cash."
Herohata frowned "I know. I have already spoken to Mr. Karns, and he tells me
that it did not come from any of his people."
Priss nodded, remembering that Mr. Karns was 'Skeeter', the largest independent
gang leader in the city and the self-appointed patron saint of the orphanage. "If
Skeeter didn't send the money, who did?"
"I have no idea." Herohata returned the duffle bag to the drawer, locked it, and
leaned back in her chair. "I won't lie to you. We could use the money the city is
threatening to cut funding again, and Mr. Karns is doing the best that he can. But
unless I know who this money is from, I can't use it."
"You think the Yakuza might be behind this?"
"Yes, and that scares me. It's hard enough to keep the kids here from becoming
hellions, but if the Yakuza are behind this, they would see this gift as a wedge to
come in here and recruit. I don't want them in here, but if they come in force, I don't
know if I can stop them."
"Skeeter won't stand for it."
"Mr. Karns may not be able to stop them."
Priss snorted. "Skeeter came from this place, as did half his lieutenants.
They've bent over backwards to make sure you and the staff can do your job and give
these kids a home, despite what those pointed-headed idiots down at the city hall
decide what to cut from your budget. Any child who shows they're ready to learn, and
Skeeter will make sure they get a shot at college. And most of those who make it turn
around and came back here to help others. Take it from me, if any Yakuza gang tried
to recruit from this place, it would be the last thing they ever did."
The administrator nodded slowly. "I know Mr. Karns would not let us down, but I
had to hear it from someone else."
"Was there any sort of note with the duffle bag?"
Herohata nodded. "There was a note, but I forgot about it." She opened the drawer
in front of her and reached in. She handed Priss a folded sheet of white paper. The
singer opened up the sheet and scanned the contents.
The note was in English, short and to the point:
Use this money for better reasons then it was originally intended for.
N
Priss frowned. "It doesn't sound like a Yakuza note."
"It doesn't."
"What did this guy look like? The one that delivered this?" she pointed at the
bag full of money.
The administrator sighed. "All we know is that a man on a motorcycle stopped
one of the junior administrators who was on her way into work, asked her if she worked
here, then gave her the bag and asked her to delivered it to me. She did so, and I
found that. The man never took off his helmet, and he had a mirrored visor that he
kept down."
"How do you know this person was a he?"
"Because the girl in question is a bit guy crazy. She's always rating men by
how they compare to her 'old Senpai'. If there is one thing she's sure of, is that
it was a man on that motorcycle."
"What do you want me to do?" Priss asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.
"I want you to ask around quietly and see if you can find out anything about
the people who left this money with us."
"And suppose they don't want to be found out?"
"I won't ask you to dig out the truth, just see if the orphanage can accept
this money in good faith. If it's given in the sprit of real charity, then I can rest
easy. If it's a wedge to recruitment by the gangs, then --"
"I don't think it's the Yakuza," interrupted Priss. "Or any of the other gangs."
Herohata frowned. "Why do you say that?"
"Because Shikichi Sato is too busy getting his ass handed to him by some American
in power armor. He's too worried about hanging on to what he has now."
"The news reports said there have been clashes between rival gangs in the last
couple of days."
"Don't believe them," said Priss, leaning forward in her chair. "Some hardass
calling himself Nemesis has been going through Sato's goons like rice through a duck."
"How do you know?" Herohata asked.
Priss told her the basics of what had happened the night before, only modifying
her reasons for going into the ruined apartment complex, and omitting everything that
had happened after her first encounter with Nemesis in there. "So, I managed to stumble
out of the complex before the ADP surrounded the block and hung around only long enough
to see and hear a lot of fighting. That's all I know."
The director nodded and picked up a newspaper that was on her desk. She gave it
to Priss. "You mean this?"
Priss looked at the headline. It was in black bold print, and read, 'WAR IN THE
STREETS!' The article itself went on to describe the events of last evening in terse
language, as if the writer was angry at what had happened. The number of dead was well
over two hundred and fifty now, with more expected to be found after the ruins had been
throughly searched. Both the ADP and the N-Police come under criticism in the story for
not stopping the attacks. Only in passing did the article noted that all the dead that
had been found so far were know or suspected Yakuza members. There was no mention of
the Jagers or the Knight Sabers, which wasn't surprising. The newspaper was one of
GENOM's.
"That's about what happened," Priss said, handing the newspaper back to Herohata.
The director took the newspaper and placed it on her desk. "Will you help?" she
asked.
"I'll ask around," Priss replied, "But if Skeeter can't find out, why should I
have better luck?"
"That's all I can ask for." She stood. "I'll take you to Sho. He's been looking
forward to seeing you again."
Priss stood up also. "How's he doing?"
"He's coping. He's doing well at school and he's making a few friends, but he
still misses his mother."
"So do I. She was one of the few friends I had." Priss followed Herohata to the
door of the office. "If I could adopt him, I'd do it in a heartbeat, but with my life "
"I know." Herohata looked uncomfortable. "If it was just up to me, I would take
the chance and let you adopt him, but my hands are tied. If it's any comfort, Mr. Karns
has begun to take an interest in him."
"Well, if Skeeter is interested, then Sho's in good hands."
"I certainly hope so. The poor boy could use the help."
"I wish I could be more of a help."
The director smiled. "Believe it or not, Miss Asgiri, you are a help. You remind
Sho that he isn't alone and forgotten." She opened the door. "Let's go see him."
ADP Headquarters
February 11, 2036
9:29am
Leon looked out over the packed conference room. "Everybody here?" he asked.
There were no snappy comebacks from any of the assembled officers they were
all either too tired or too worried to make the effort. There were well over a dozen
people in the room, a mix of detachment commanders, ADP investigations members, and
support people. In addition, Daley and Ko were seated at the table closest to where
Leon was standing. Cups of coffee were highly visible around the table, as was parts
of danishes, donuts, and other ready to eat breakfast meals. There was no smell of
tobacco, as the Chief had instituted a 'no smoking' policy inside the ADP building.
After allowing five seconds for the non existent comments, Leon looked at Daley.
"What's the latest body count?"
"Two hundred and seventy four," the red-headed Inspector replied, stifling a
yawn as he did so. "Every one of them a know or suspected Yakuza member. Most of them
are from the nightclub, and we may never find all the bodies."
Leon looked over at Kosaku Sanemori. "What about those Jagers we found?"
"What Jagers?" Ko replied with a snort of derision. His eyes were red from a lack
of sleep and smoke, his clothes rumpled and dirty, and there was a mild tang of smoke
about him that everyone else tried to ignore. "We've got a pile of junk that might be
the remains of at least ten to twelve Jager battlesuits. We've only managed to find
two serial numbers in that entire mess so far, and those were the ones the Knight Sabers
tangled with and toasted I've got people working on them right now. We're still sorting
through the remains, both human and mechanical."
"What about the ID on the Jager pilots?"
"We've managed to confirm three of them. We think the head man was one Malcolm
Hijosama. Ex-SDF Captain until he was discharged for illegal activity, then became a
mercenary. The Intelligence community had him active in several African states before
he came back her to work for one of Sato's subsidiary companies. We'll know for sure
once those two we found wake up."
"Think?"
"Well, we're still running DNA tests on the remains. Nemesis didn't leave a
recognizable body in most cases."
Just then, Anderson walked into the room. She looked as tired as the rest of
them, but she still managed to scowl. "We've got problems with the other gangs," she
said flatly.
"What now?" Leon asked. He was too tired to generate any emotion at the sight
of the freshly washed and dressed N-Police detective.
"The OCU managed to lose track of several of the major gang leaders for several
hours last night."
Leon closed his eyes and pinched his nose. "Why do I have the feeling I am not
going to like this?"
"Who did they lose track of?" Daley asked.
"Jimmy Chee, Adrik Smirnovski, Willie Chung, and Tomasuki Iwasaki."
"Oh shit," remarked Daley mildly.
"You said it," Leon said. "Did the OCU find them again?"
"Five hours later. They spotted Chee and Iwasaki coming out of the Golden Stallion
over in Tinsel City."
"Which is controlled by one of the gangs Chung represent." Leon sighed and leaned
back in his chair. "We didn't need this."
"It's not unexpected," Anderson replied. "We knew that the other gangs would
try to take advantage of Sato's troubles."
"But we expected them to fight each other as well as Sato. The fact that two of
the gang leaders were seen coming out of a third gang's stronghold indicates a possibility
of an alliance of some sort." Leon leaned forward and slammed a hand on the table.
"Damn it!" he snarled. "Everything is pointing to a major gang war, and there's nothing
we can do to stop it!"
"Nemesis is you main concern," Anderson replied frostily.
"If those gangs go to war, Nemesis is going to be a minor matter!" Leon replied.
He leaned back again. "Right," he said, "I want a list of all known businesses of all
four gang leaders Chee, Smirnovski, Chung, and Iwasaki."
"What for?" Anderson asked.
Leon looked at her, his gaze level. "There's only two ways we can stop this before
it gets out of control. Either we stop Nemesis and allow Sato to retain control, or we
threaten Chee and the rest by targeting their own business and arresting as many of
their members as we can."
The blonde N-policewoman exploded. "That's stupid! We can't hold them without
evidence!"
"She's right," said Daley. "Their lawyers would be all over us before the inks
were dry on their arrest warrants."
"It's either that, or risk getting innocent people killed in the crossfire.
Iwasaki's the only one who has anything close to a code of honor the other three
are ruthless bastards who would shoot their own mothers if they thought it would
increase their power and income."
"The city will be sued for millions!" Anderson continued, glaring daggers at
Leon.
"We need to disrupt this now, before they can get going." Leon said. "We need
to buy time, time to run Nemesis down and remove him from the equation."
"By committing a series of illegal acts ourselves?" Anderson demanded.
"Do you have a better idea?"
Anderson slumped her shoulders. "No," she replied. "Damn it, no."
Leon nodded tiredly. "If it will make you feel better, we'll start with the
outstanding warrants and suspected criminal enterprises. That might be enough."
"And if it isn't?"
"Then hope we find Nemesis before they get their act together." Leon stood.
"Here's what we're going to do. First, Fifth and Seventh Detachments are going to
start hitting Chee and the other's places of business. Daley, I want you in charge
of that mission." He looked at Anderson. "Can you get a list of outstanding warrants
quickly?"
"Yes," she replied, her face tight with emotion.
"If you please do so? And I think you should go with Daley. Having a N-police
representative serving some of the warrants might be a good idea."
Anderson nodded slowly. "I'll get started on that warrant list right away." she
turned and strode out of the room.
Leon waited until the N-Police Detective left the room before he continued, "Ko,
I want you to stay here and hold the fort. I'll leave Second, Third, Sixth, Eighth,
and Ninth Detachments to cover in case we have another problem beyond the current
situation."
"Right," Ko replied. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm taking the other detachments and starting a major sweep for Nemesis."
"In a city this size?" Daley asked. "We'd need the entire SDF for that, and even
then, that wouldn't be enough!"
"Nene's put together a list of places that are possible Nemesis hideouts. I plan
to search them."
"That's a longshot."
"Unless we uncover more information on this Nemesis, all we have are longshots."
"What does the Chief say about all this?" Mandy Thereon, one of the detachment
commanders asked.
"The chief is currently in 'discussions' with the Mayor and representatives of
the Diet," Leon answered with a straight face.
"In other words, they're trying to find a way to cover their own ass," replied
Thereon.
"And if we find Nemesis and stop the brewing gang war, they're fall all over
themselves trying to take credit for it," finished Ko.
"And that is something new?' asked Daley.
"Let's get gear up and get ready to roll out," said Leon.
The meeting broke up. Daley loitered until he and Leon was alone. "What about
our friend with the crew-cut?"
"I'm going to see Nene about him right now. Care to tag along?"
The redhead shrugged. "Sure. It'll take Anderson some time for that list of
hers."
Alan greeted them at the door of the security office. "Guys," he said.
Daley looked at Alan in puzzlement. "Where are you off to?" he asked.
Alan looked down at the jumpsuit he was wearing instead of the normal ADP duty
uniform, then looked up at Daley. "Physical check of the Computer network."
"How's Nene doing?" Leon asked.
The assistant security officer shrugged. "Don't know," he replied. "She told me
to leave her alone until she was ready. She's hunched at her computer typing away like
a good little cracker, and "
"Alan!" Nene's voice was loud and clear. "Don't you have something to do?"
Alan looked back into the office. "On my way boss!"
Leon grinned. "She didn't take long for the position to go to her head."
Alan shook his head. "She may look like she's a cute, perky and cuddly, but
behind those green eyes and red hair, there's a "
"ALAN!" Nene's voice was twice as loud and more shrill then before. "If you're
not out of here in three seconds, I'll make you check ever single millimeter of wire
in this building, every minute, every day, until you retire!"
"I had better get going," said Alan, looking over his shoulder. "She's your
problem for now."
When Leon and Daley entered the office, Nene was busy at her computer. "I'm
almost in," she said, not bothering to either stop or look at them.
"How much longer?"
"A minute, three, ten, who knows? Now shut up and let me work in peace."
Leon opened his mouth to reply, but Daley placed a hand on Leon's arm, when Leon
looked at him, the redheaded Inspector motioned towards the door with his eyes. Grumbling,
the tall inspector followed his shorter partner out of the office.
Daley closed the door behind him, softly, as not to disturb Nene . "I think you
should leave her alone for now," he said seriously
"I want to see how's she's doing," Leon replied, looking slightly hurt. "See if
she needs a hand."
Daley's lips quirked into a small smile. "What could you help her with? Your
computer skills are taxed trying to figure out how to turn you desk terminal on at
the beginning of every shift!"
"I don't have to turn them on they never are turned off!"
"My point exactly. Face it, Leon. You're a modern day neanderthal."
"Maybe, but I'm a good-looking neanderthal."
Daley sighed. "I know. But Nene knows what's she doing. Having you and me
peering over her shoulder is not going to get us the data any faster."
"I know, but "
The office door opened and Nene stuck her head out. "I've got it," she said.
"I'm downloading it right now. Give me another five minutes to pull out of their
system, and ten minutes after that to organize it."
"Nene," said Leon with a big grin, "I could kiss you!"
"I'll settle for a slice of chocolate cake from the cafeteria," the red-headed
computer security officer replied with a tired smile. "And maybe a large cup of coffee."
"I'll go get it," said Daley. The redhead trotted off.
Green eyes looked at Leon. "Anything new on Nemesis?"
"Besides racking a body count bigger then most boomer rampages last night? Not
a whole hell of a lot."
Nene grimaced. "I saw on the news. It was horrible!"
"You didn't have to see it, live, in color and smell it," Leon replied. "It's
like trying to grab a tornado."
"Daley said you talked to Nemesis."
"If you can call it a talk. All I know is that the son of a bitch scares me."
"Scares you, how?"
"Because I now know the guy in that suit is not some nutcase with a death wish,
but a highly trained, highly motivated warrior who is bound and determined to complete
his mission. The fact that the mission is highly illegal and could cause a gang war
isn't on his mind. The complete destruction of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza is."
A beep from inside the office made Nene jerk around. "The download's done," she
said quickly. "I have to take care of this." she disappeared back into the office,
closing the door in Leon's face.
By the time Daley returned with the reward for Nene's efforts, the young computer
security officer had slipped out of the Pentagon's data base, covered her tracks, and
prepared the data for viewing. After letting the two ADP Inspectors into the office,
she sat in front of the computer and said. "All right, what now?"
"Start with the name Jackson Ng," said Leon.
Nene typed the name, and a file opened up on the screen. Nene leaned closer.
"Let's see...Born 2005, in San Angles....Parents died when he was sixteen, Has an
older sister by the name of Josie Ng "
"Skip to his military record," Leon said.
"All right." Nene tapped a couple of keys and stared at the screen. "Joined the
US Army in 2023. Spent first tour in Korea, Taiwan, and the Middle East. Applied for
airborne training in 2026, Ranger's school in 2027, passed and assigned to the Seventy-
Ninth Ranger Battalion in 2028. In 2030, assigned to 'Operation Templar,' with the
rank of Sargent First Class. Wounded during 'Operation Templar, and medically discharged
from the Army in 2032."
Daley frowned. "Why does that sound familiar?' he muttered.
"What sounds familiar?" Leon asked.
"'Operation Templar.' I heard that before. I can't remember where though."
"Nene, what else is there on Ng?"
"Not much. Just an address and a notation that he has two artificial legs."
"Can you cross reference Ng's records with the others and see who he served
with?"
"That could take a while. There's a couple of thousand records, at least."
"Hey, Leon," said Daley. "I have to make a couple of calls. This 'Operation
Templar,' is giving me an itch, and I need to scratch it."
Nene looked back at the two inspectors. "Do you want me to cross reference these
records with 'Operation Templar?"
"Do it," said Leon. "It might be the key we're looking for."
"All right."
"Daley, Make you calls and get started with hitting Chee and the others. Call
me when you have something. Nene, when you have something, I want to know ASAP." He
pulled out a picture of the crew-cut man Gamble had sent over. "And I especially want
to know if you find a match for this guy in the records."
"Okay." The perky redhead reach for the piece of cake. "I'll get started right
after I finish this."