Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Black Knights, Steel Hearts ❯ Chapter 9
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Trboturtle 
Sylia has a meeting with Fargo and nearly gets killed in the process....
Anime/Manga: Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Mecha / Cyberpunk / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 12.23.2007 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.0K | Visits: 866 | Status: Work In Progress
Sylia has a meeting with Fargo and nearly gets killed in the process....
Anime/Manga: Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Mecha / Cyberpunk / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 12.23.2007 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.0K | Visits: 866 | Status: Work In Progress
**************************************************
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 . . .
*************************************************
Ch apter 9
Coastal Highway
Friday, December 21, 2035
11:02pm
Sylia drove her bright red Mercedes-Benz with the coolness of a professional driver. The traffic was light for this time of night, and she made good time. She pressed down on the accelerator, and the car leapt forward, taking her closer to her meeting with Fargo.
His call came shortly after ten o'clock. The dinner party was winding down, and so were the guests. Both Linna and Nene had to work tomorrow, which meant they would have to leave soon. Priss glanced at the clock every few minutes, but made no attempt to leave. So, they sat and listen to one of Linna's stories about her new boss.
When the portable phone rang, the conversation stopped. They all looked at the phone sitting next to Sylia. They all knew it was a special line, its number known only to the people in this room, and one other.
Sylia, sitting on the couch, reached behind her and picked up the hand receiver. "Yes?"
/Hello, Sylia./ said the dry toned voice of Fargo.
Sylia stood and walked away from the others. "I was just thinking of you," she said quietly.
/Really? I must be finally getting to you./
"I doubt it. It probably something I had for dinner."
There was silence for a moment, the Fargo said, /I deserved that, but I need to see you, in person. This is important./ She caught some tension in his voice.
"Are you in trouble?"
/No. But the outfit you represent might be. I had a visit from some guests from outside Japan, and they were most insistent that I pass something on to you./
"Where and when?"
/Niko's Pool hall in District 6. Corner of Flower Blossom and Twenty-seventh. Eleven-thirty. When you get here, I'll buy you a Golden Unicorn./
Sylia nodded. He'd given the all clear signal with the last sentence. Sylia hated Golden Unicorn beer, and Fargo knew it. Had he offered to buy her one of favorite drinks, she would have know then it was a setup. It was a long winded way of doing business, but necessary.
"Eleven thirty is fine. See you there."
/I can hardly wait./
Before she put the receiver back, Sylia knew the evening was over for them.
Nene made the first move. She glanced at her watch, and said, "Is that the time already? I'd better get going. I don't want to spend my first day in charge of the Computer Security Department half asleep."
"Who would notice the difference?" asked Priss, standing up. She stretched slowly. "But little Miss Cyberpunk is right. I've got leads on a couple of bands that need a singer, and I'd better follow up on them now."
Linna nodded. "There's an early meeting among the brokers tomorrow. I'd better leave also." She turned to Nene. "Do you need a ride home?"
Before Nene could say anything, Mackie said, "I'll take her home, if that's all right with her."
"S - sure," Nene managed to stammer out. "That's if it all right with Sylia."
"Don't look at me," replied Sylia, with a smile. "Mackie's a big boy now. He doesn't need my permission to do anything."
"Then I'll get my coat." Nene leapt out of her chair and disappeared into the hall closet, while Mackie stood and picked up a set of keys from a desk drawer. By the time Mackie was ready, Nene had secured her coat, and was waiting for him at the door.
"Be back in a hour," he called out to Sylia as they both went out the door. The door closed quietly behind them.
Priss smirked. "I don't think so," she said.
"I'm sure Mackie will be a gentleman," said Sylia, standing.
"He seems to have matured in the last year," said Linna. "He didn't even try looking down my blouse once the entire night."
Priss shrugged on her biker's jacket. "Maybe so, Linna, but if he tries that stunt with the cameras in the changing room again, I'll break his nose."
"I don't think that will be a problem," said Sylia.
Sylia escorted them to the front door. "I have no idea what Fargo wants," she said. "But make sure you have your signal devices handy, just in case we have to move fast."
"Yes, mommy," said Priss over her shoulder. "Do you want us to look both ways when we cross the street too?"
They said their good-byes at the door. After Sylia ushered them out, she walked back into the living room and quickly cleaned up. Thirty minutes later, she was behind the wheel of her Mercedes-Benz, heading towards the location Fargo had given her.
After twenty minutes, the exit she wanted come up and she took it, careful to watch her rear mirror for any signs of a tail. Five minutes later, the pool hall came into sight.
**********
Niko's Pool Hall
District 6
Friday, December 21, 2035
11:33pm
Fargo leaned over a pool table, and lined up his shot. With a flick of his wrist, he tapped the dull white cue ball right where he wanted it to go. It struck the seven ball, changed direction, and tapped the eleven ball into the side pocket. With a smile, he remarked the tip of his stick, and looked for his next shot.
There were only half a dozen people in the room this late at night, but Fargo had chosen the table farthest from the front door out of habit. The smoke hung thickly in the dimly lit room, leaving a haze that swirled around the lights that hung over each table. Most of the sounds heard were the clicks of balls striking each other and the murmurs of the players as they stalked around the tables looking for their next shot.
"Not bad," said a cool voice from the other side of the table. Fargo looked up at the familiar voice, and saw Sylia standing there, looking as cool and elegant as always.
"I try."
"What did you want to see me about?"
"I have something for you." He retrieved an envelope from his inside coat pocket and handed it to her. "I was given this to give to my Knight Saber contact."
She looked at it. "Any idea What it is?"
"I was told in no uncertain terms that It was none of my business."
"Who gave it to you?"
"That's the interesting part." He leaned over the table and made another shot. "Two gentlemen wearing hardsuits found me and handed it to me, with the clear instruction that it was to be turned over to my Knight Saber contact, and no one else."
Sylia allowed her surprise to show briefly before she ruthlessly suppressed the feeling. "Describe the hardsuits."
"I can do better then describe them," replied Fargo as he lined up another shot. "I can tell you who they are."
"All right. I'm listening."
"Care for a game?" He waved to the pool table. "It would look less suspicious if we played while we talked."
"Very well." Sylia removed the long heavy coat she wore, revealing a subdued business suit. She draped the coat over a nearby chair, and removed a cue stick from a rack on the wall. She examined the stick carefully, then nodded to Fargo.
Fargo reracked the balls, and put the cue ball down on the spot marked for it. He stepped back, and waved to Sylia. "Ladies first."
She stepped up behind the cue ball, and lined up her shot. With a smooth motion, she struck the white ball. The neat triangle of colored balls shattered into its individual pieces as the white ball crashed into it. Fargo's eyes widen as three of the balls disappeared into the table's pockets.
"I take it you don't need any tips in shooting pool," he said in a resigned tone.
"You take it right," she replied, her eyes scanning the table. "Who are they?"
Fargo leaned on his stick and watched Sylia. "They call themselves the Black Knights. They operate mostly in North America, and have been around for the last three years or so. My sources say they're very good, and their hardsuits are top of the line."
"How many in the team?"
"Hard to say. Anywhere between six to twelve, maybe more."
Sylia found her shot and sank the fourteen ball in a corner pocket. "That's not much help," she said, not looking up.
Fargo shrugged. "They're just as camera shy as the Knight Sabers are, and less forthcoming."
"What type of jobs do they handle?"
"Boomer rampages, and some mercenary work. But they're real choosy about who they work for."
"Do they do any work for GENOM?"
"That's a definite no. Not from a lack of trying on GENOM's part, mind you. But the Knights refuse to have anything to do with GENOM, or most of the other Megacorps. They have done jobs for Green Food, MALCORP, Barrow-Parks-Hollister, and USSD in the past."
Sylia looked up at him. "MALCORP?"
Fargo nodded. "Yea, MALCORP. There's a rumor that they bungled a mission in MegaNew York a couple of days back. The rumor also said that the mission involved MALCORP and Janie."
Sylia found and moved to her next shot. "Speaking of which, What's the latest on MALCORP's search for Janie VanDell?"
"They still searching. They've managed to narrow the field of who could be behind the snatch somewhat, but there's still major players left on the list."
"Who are the top five?"
"GENOM or a GENOM-related company have three of the slots, with Yoshri Electronics and Kingside Miltec running a distant second."
"I'm not convinced it's GENOM, or the others you named." Sylia's next shot removed the three ball, and set up her next shot. "Who are the wild cards?"
Fargo paused in thought. He leaned on his stick and stared at the table. After several seconds, he said "Only one springs to mind - Gulf and Bradley Japan."
Sylia looked up. "Oh?"
Fargo nodded. "About three months ago, the G and B Japan division got a new head man. Name of Carlton Bradley."
"Related to the late chairman of the board, Carson Bradley? The one killed in that terrorist attack in Houston a couple of years back?"
"His son. Word is that he's a cold blooded son of a bitch. The current CEO of Gulf and Bradley, his uncle, wanted him as far as possible from the center of power as possible. So, he dumped him here, and hoped him and Quincy would tangle."
Sylia sank the five, seven, and ten balls in quick secession. "I thought GENOM and Gulf and Bradley were allies."
"Not after the death of Carson Bradley. Janson Bradley dislikes his nephew, but he hates GENOM more. After that superboomer project, Janson cut all ties to GENOM."
"I'm surprised Janson hasn't met with an accident yet."
"Only because Carlton and his sister Cora would inherit the corporation if Janson dies. Janson hates GENOM, but he's smart enough not to oppose them, if he can avoid it. Carlton doesn't seem to have that sense of survival, and his sister is worse. The last thing Quincy wants is warfare between GENOM and Gulf and Bradley, but if those two get control, warfare is
what he'll get. Even now, there's a shadow war going on between them here in the city. Nothing serious yet, but I don't know how long it'll stay that way."
Sylia missed the four ball, and stepped back. "Could Carlton have arrange the kidnapping of Janie?"
"Possible," replied Fargo, moving down the table to examine a shot. "Though his sister is more likely to be the brains behind something like that. She's twisted enough."
Fargo's shot bounced slightly off target, and he stepped back again. Sylia sank three more balls in rapid secession. "Has MALCORP looked at Gulf and Bradley Japan yet?"
"Not yet. They're still concentrating on the top five."
In a rapid flurry of shots, Sylia ran the rest of the table. As the last ball sank into the pocket, she replaced the stick in the rack and picked up her coat. "Thanks for the game."
He looked at the empty table and smiled at her. "You're welcome. Just be careful out there, OK?"
"I always am. Call me if anything else turns up."
**********
Outside Niko's Pool Hall
District 6
Friday, December 21, 2035
11:58pm
The air was cool compared to the Pool hall's, but it was cleaner and fresher. Sylia turned up the collar of her coat, and began the short walk to her car. This was not a nice area of the city, and she didn't care to hang around any longer then she had to.
The light in the area was indifferent at best. Most of the lampposts were without power, lightbulbs, or the inside wiring. There were very few cars, older models for the most part, parked along the street. The street was deserted, and the only sounds beside her footfalls were distant and without definition. But something gnawed at her, and she stopped, and surveyed the area around her. Something was wrong. She could feel it. But What?
She reached into her coat for the large semiautomatic pistol she had just started carrying, when she heard the sounds of shots, muffled by the buildings around her. A long, high pitched, ripping sound of at least two machine guns, punctuated with the thundering booms of a heavy caliber pistol. They were coming from the pool hall, and the glass in the Niko's front
door shattered as a wild shot passed through it.
Fargo! He's in trouble! She spun, the pistol out and ready to fire once a target presented itself. When none did, she started back towards the pool hall at an uneasy jog.
She'd covered half the distance to the damaged door when an amplified electronic voice shouted "SYL! TWO HOSTILES AT SEVEN O'CLOCK, ADVANCING ON YOUR POSITION!"
Without thought, she turned and started tracking the closer of the two figures running towards her. They had appeared from an alley half a block down the street. In the dim light, all Sylia could make out was they both male, wore the worn clothing of street people, and carried assault rifles.
The N-Police on some type of raid? she thought. Where are the sirens, and the uniformed officers?
"AD Police!" she yelled at them. "Identify yourself!"
The nearer figure stopped fifty meters away, snapped the assault rifle he carried to his shoulder and opened fire. The muzzle vomited flame, and a high pitched ripping sound started.
Damn! That answers my question! Sylia dropped to one knee and fired twice, the flat crack of her pistol startling in the once silent night. Her target folded over and collapsed, the rifle falling out of his hand and clattering on the street. Without pause, Sylia started tracking the other target. Before she could fire, the figure threw himself into a darken doorway thirty meters down the street from her.
Sylia scramble towards the nearest cover, a decrepit looking van, just as the other figure opened fire. She felt the slugs slam into the other side of the van, and heard the windows shatter under the storm of lead. When the shooting paused, she leaned around the end of the van and snapped off three shots in the direction of the doorway. The reply was prompt and the van took several dozen more rounds. Sylia shielded she head from the rain of shattered glass fell on her. I can't stay here too much longer, she thought quickly. I don't have enough ammo for a long fight, and the N-Police will be here soon. I wish -
"STAND BY FOR INCOMING!"
She was startled by the voice that had warned her seconds before. She had just enough time to realize that her benefactor was now joining the fight before she hear the sound of a missile screaming down from above her. The doorway across the street exploded in a mass of white flames, shattering windows and rattling walls. The van trembled under the shock wave, and Sylia was knocked to the ground.
Gritting her teeth in determination, she got to her feet, her pistol still tightly gripped in her hand. Her head hurt, and she felt sick to her stomach. She took a deep breath, and started to cough as she took in a lungfull of dust. She leaned against the van until the spasm stopped. Her eyes were watering, and she fought the temptation to black out.
"Sylia!"
She looked up and saw Fargo charge out of the pool hall, a semi-automatic pistol in one fist, a machine pistol in the other. He saw her and jogged over to her, his eyes roaming the surrounding area with the practice of someone well versed in urban combat.
"Are you all right?" he asked her, and Sylia noted real concern in his voice.
"I'll live," she replied in a rasping voice. "What happened in there?"
"After you walked out, two of the other pool players pulled out machine pistols and tried to kill me." There was no bravado in his voice, just a simple tone of explanation. "They came close too." He looked around. "They tried to kill you too?"
Sylia nodded. "We better get out of here before the police show up."
"You're right," he said, putting his own pistol away. He wiped his fingerprints off the machine pistol before he dropped it onto the sidewalk. "Can you drive?"
"No, you drive Fargo," said an electronic voice from above them.
Fargo had his pistol back in his hand with amazing swiftness, and pointed it at a shadow looking down at them from the roof of the pool hall. "Who the Hell are you?" He shouted.
The shadow stepped off the roof into the air. It fell until a set of thrusters flared to life, slowing the decent. It landed with ease several meters from the front door of the pool hall.
Both Sylia and Fargo stared at the hardsuited figure striding towards them. For a moment, Sylia thought it was a Knight Saber hardsuit, but after a closer look, she saw it was more angular then the suits she designed. It was burnished Black in color, with dark gold highlights glinting in the flames from across the street. The helmet was fashioned to resemble a medieval Knight's helmet. There was a small insignia of a Black knight's head on a gold shield on the hardsuit's right breast.
"You can call me Knight One, Fargo," said the person inside the hardsuit. "And you can put that gun away. We are on the same side here."
"Are we?" replied Sylia, feeling stronger. "That missile you fired nearly killed me."
"I had limited choices. That one wasn't human, but a modified C-class Boomer," Knight One replied carefully. "I couldn't hit it from my position with my other weapons and be sure I could eliminate it before it move in to finish you off."
"So, why are you here?" asked Fargo. "Just passing through?"
"I wanted to make sure that the note my people gave you made it to the right people." He reached out and plucked something off Fargo's coat lapel. Sylia's eyes narrowed as she saw something small in Knight One's metal fingers.
"A transmitter!" snarled Fargo. He leveled his pistol at Knight One's helmet. "Why don't I shoot you now," he growled. "And leave your body here with the others?"
"For one thing, that pistol won't penetrate this armor," replied Knight One in a cool voice that, despite the electronic filtering, Sylia found familiar somehow. "Also, the N-police will be here in a minute and half, and you don't have the time to waste. I'm monitoring the police traffic right now. Drive yourself and your contact out of the area now, or spend the rest of the night trying to explain to the police what happened here. Your choice."
"He's right, Fargo," said Sylia slowly, putting her pistol away. "We don't have time to discuss anything right now." Including how you knew a nickname I haven't used in years, she added to herself.
Fargo hesitated for a second, then nodded, and put his gun away. "This isn't over, Knight One," he said with a growl.
"Make an appointment with Mr. Mallory tomorrow," replied the hardsuited figure. "And you can complain directly to him. I'm here under his orders, not yours."
"Let's go," said Sylia, grabbing Fargo by the arm and pulling him towards her car. By the time they reached the Mercedes-Benz, the sounds of sirens could be heard. Sylia tossed Fargo the keys and they climbed in.
Knight One watched them drive off before he activated his thrusters and shot into the air. He landed on the roof of the opposite direction that Sylia and Fargo had taken. Two buildings later, he stopped and watched the lights of the oncoming police vehicles. Let's see if I can draw off some of the police response from the area and give Sylia a chance to get clear.
When the first of the police helicopters swept into the area, he didn't try to hide from them. He stood in the open and allowed himself to be seen. As soon as the helicopters swung round, he took off running, ignoring the amplified orders to halt and surrender.
You and I are going to have a long talk, Sylia. He thought. Assuming I don't get killed or captured by the police in the next twenty minutes.
**********
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 . . .
*************************************************
Ch apter 9
Coastal Highway
Friday, December 21, 2035
11:02pm
Sylia drove her bright red Mercedes-Benz with the coolness of a professional driver. The traffic was light for this time of night, and she made good time. She pressed down on the accelerator, and the car leapt forward, taking her closer to her meeting with Fargo.
His call came shortly after ten o'clock. The dinner party was winding down, and so were the guests. Both Linna and Nene had to work tomorrow, which meant they would have to leave soon. Priss glanced at the clock every few minutes, but made no attempt to leave. So, they sat and listen to one of Linna's stories about her new boss.
When the portable phone rang, the conversation stopped. They all looked at the phone sitting next to Sylia. They all knew it was a special line, its number known only to the people in this room, and one other.
Sylia, sitting on the couch, reached behind her and picked up the hand receiver. "Yes?"
/Hello, Sylia./ said the dry toned voice of Fargo.
Sylia stood and walked away from the others. "I was just thinking of you," she said quietly.
/Really? I must be finally getting to you./
"I doubt it. It probably something I had for dinner."
There was silence for a moment, the Fargo said, /I deserved that, but I need to see you, in person. This is important./ She caught some tension in his voice.
"Are you in trouble?"
/No. But the outfit you represent might be. I had a visit from some guests from outside Japan, and they were most insistent that I pass something on to you./
"Where and when?"
/Niko's Pool hall in District 6. Corner of Flower Blossom and Twenty-seventh. Eleven-thirty. When you get here, I'll buy you a Golden Unicorn./
Sylia nodded. He'd given the all clear signal with the last sentence. Sylia hated Golden Unicorn beer, and Fargo knew it. Had he offered to buy her one of favorite drinks, she would have know then it was a setup. It was a long winded way of doing business, but necessary.
"Eleven thirty is fine. See you there."
/I can hardly wait./
Before she put the receiver back, Sylia knew the evening was over for them.
Nene made the first move. She glanced at her watch, and said, "Is that the time already? I'd better get going. I don't want to spend my first day in charge of the Computer Security Department half asleep."
"Who would notice the difference?" asked Priss, standing up. She stretched slowly. "But little Miss Cyberpunk is right. I've got leads on a couple of bands that need a singer, and I'd better follow up on them now."
Linna nodded. "There's an early meeting among the brokers tomorrow. I'd better leave also." She turned to Nene. "Do you need a ride home?"
Before Nene could say anything, Mackie said, "I'll take her home, if that's all right with her."
"S - sure," Nene managed to stammer out. "That's if it all right with Sylia."
"Don't look at me," replied Sylia, with a smile. "Mackie's a big boy now. He doesn't need my permission to do anything."
"Then I'll get my coat." Nene leapt out of her chair and disappeared into the hall closet, while Mackie stood and picked up a set of keys from a desk drawer. By the time Mackie was ready, Nene had secured her coat, and was waiting for him at the door.
"Be back in a hour," he called out to Sylia as they both went out the door. The door closed quietly behind them.
Priss smirked. "I don't think so," she said.
"I'm sure Mackie will be a gentleman," said Sylia, standing.
"He seems to have matured in the last year," said Linna. "He didn't even try looking down my blouse once the entire night."
Priss shrugged on her biker's jacket. "Maybe so, Linna, but if he tries that stunt with the cameras in the changing room again, I'll break his nose."
"I don't think that will be a problem," said Sylia.
Sylia escorted them to the front door. "I have no idea what Fargo wants," she said. "But make sure you have your signal devices handy, just in case we have to move fast."
"Yes, mommy," said Priss over her shoulder. "Do you want us to look both ways when we cross the street too?"
They said their good-byes at the door. After Sylia ushered them out, she walked back into the living room and quickly cleaned up. Thirty minutes later, she was behind the wheel of her Mercedes-Benz, heading towards the location Fargo had given her.
After twenty minutes, the exit she wanted come up and she took it, careful to watch her rear mirror for any signs of a tail. Five minutes later, the pool hall came into sight.
**********
Niko's Pool Hall
District 6
Friday, December 21, 2035
11:33pm
Fargo leaned over a pool table, and lined up his shot. With a flick of his wrist, he tapped the dull white cue ball right where he wanted it to go. It struck the seven ball, changed direction, and tapped the eleven ball into the side pocket. With a smile, he remarked the tip of his stick, and looked for his next shot.
There were only half a dozen people in the room this late at night, but Fargo had chosen the table farthest from the front door out of habit. The smoke hung thickly in the dimly lit room, leaving a haze that swirled around the lights that hung over each table. Most of the sounds heard were the clicks of balls striking each other and the murmurs of the players as they stalked around the tables looking for their next shot.
"Not bad," said a cool voice from the other side of the table. Fargo looked up at the familiar voice, and saw Sylia standing there, looking as cool and elegant as always.
"I try."
"What did you want to see me about?"
"I have something for you." He retrieved an envelope from his inside coat pocket and handed it to her. "I was given this to give to my Knight Saber contact."
She looked at it. "Any idea What it is?"
"I was told in no uncertain terms that It was none of my business."
"Who gave it to you?"
"That's the interesting part." He leaned over the table and made another shot. "Two gentlemen wearing hardsuits found me and handed it to me, with the clear instruction that it was to be turned over to my Knight Saber contact, and no one else."
Sylia allowed her surprise to show briefly before she ruthlessly suppressed the feeling. "Describe the hardsuits."
"I can do better then describe them," replied Fargo as he lined up another shot. "I can tell you who they are."
"All right. I'm listening."
"Care for a game?" He waved to the pool table. "It would look less suspicious if we played while we talked."
"Very well." Sylia removed the long heavy coat she wore, revealing a subdued business suit. She draped the coat over a nearby chair, and removed a cue stick from a rack on the wall. She examined the stick carefully, then nodded to Fargo.
Fargo reracked the balls, and put the cue ball down on the spot marked for it. He stepped back, and waved to Sylia. "Ladies first."
She stepped up behind the cue ball, and lined up her shot. With a smooth motion, she struck the white ball. The neat triangle of colored balls shattered into its individual pieces as the white ball crashed into it. Fargo's eyes widen as three of the balls disappeared into the table's pockets.
"I take it you don't need any tips in shooting pool," he said in a resigned tone.
"You take it right," she replied, her eyes scanning the table. "Who are they?"
Fargo leaned on his stick and watched Sylia. "They call themselves the Black Knights. They operate mostly in North America, and have been around for the last three years or so. My sources say they're very good, and their hardsuits are top of the line."
"How many in the team?"
"Hard to say. Anywhere between six to twelve, maybe more."
Sylia found her shot and sank the fourteen ball in a corner pocket. "That's not much help," she said, not looking up.
Fargo shrugged. "They're just as camera shy as the Knight Sabers are, and less forthcoming."
"What type of jobs do they handle?"
"Boomer rampages, and some mercenary work. But they're real choosy about who they work for."
"Do they do any work for GENOM?"
"That's a definite no. Not from a lack of trying on GENOM's part, mind you. But the Knights refuse to have anything to do with GENOM, or most of the other Megacorps. They have done jobs for Green Food, MALCORP, Barrow-Parks-Hollister, and USSD in the past."
Sylia looked up at him. "MALCORP?"
Fargo nodded. "Yea, MALCORP. There's a rumor that they bungled a mission in MegaNew York a couple of days back. The rumor also said that the mission involved MALCORP and Janie."
Sylia found and moved to her next shot. "Speaking of which, What's the latest on MALCORP's search for Janie VanDell?"
"They still searching. They've managed to narrow the field of who could be behind the snatch somewhat, but there's still major players left on the list."
"Who are the top five?"
"GENOM or a GENOM-related company have three of the slots, with Yoshri Electronics and Kingside Miltec running a distant second."
"I'm not convinced it's GENOM, or the others you named." Sylia's next shot removed the three ball, and set up her next shot. "Who are the wild cards?"
Fargo paused in thought. He leaned on his stick and stared at the table. After several seconds, he said "Only one springs to mind - Gulf and Bradley Japan."
Sylia looked up. "Oh?"
Fargo nodded. "About three months ago, the G and B Japan division got a new head man. Name of Carlton Bradley."
"Related to the late chairman of the board, Carson Bradley? The one killed in that terrorist attack in Houston a couple of years back?"
"His son. Word is that he's a cold blooded son of a bitch. The current CEO of Gulf and Bradley, his uncle, wanted him as far as possible from the center of power as possible. So, he dumped him here, and hoped him and Quincy would tangle."
Sylia sank the five, seven, and ten balls in quick secession. "I thought GENOM and Gulf and Bradley were allies."
"Not after the death of Carson Bradley. Janson Bradley dislikes his nephew, but he hates GENOM more. After that superboomer project, Janson cut all ties to GENOM."
"I'm surprised Janson hasn't met with an accident yet."
"Only because Carlton and his sister Cora would inherit the corporation if Janson dies. Janson hates GENOM, but he's smart enough not to oppose them, if he can avoid it. Carlton doesn't seem to have that sense of survival, and his sister is worse. The last thing Quincy wants is warfare between GENOM and Gulf and Bradley, but if those two get control, warfare is
what he'll get. Even now, there's a shadow war going on between them here in the city. Nothing serious yet, but I don't know how long it'll stay that way."
Sylia missed the four ball, and stepped back. "Could Carlton have arrange the kidnapping of Janie?"
"Possible," replied Fargo, moving down the table to examine a shot. "Though his sister is more likely to be the brains behind something like that. She's twisted enough."
Fargo's shot bounced slightly off target, and he stepped back again. Sylia sank three more balls in rapid secession. "Has MALCORP looked at Gulf and Bradley Japan yet?"
"Not yet. They're still concentrating on the top five."
In a rapid flurry of shots, Sylia ran the rest of the table. As the last ball sank into the pocket, she replaced the stick in the rack and picked up her coat. "Thanks for the game."
He looked at the empty table and smiled at her. "You're welcome. Just be careful out there, OK?"
"I always am. Call me if anything else turns up."
**********
Outside Niko's Pool Hall
District 6
Friday, December 21, 2035
11:58pm
The air was cool compared to the Pool hall's, but it was cleaner and fresher. Sylia turned up the collar of her coat, and began the short walk to her car. This was not a nice area of the city, and she didn't care to hang around any longer then she had to.
The light in the area was indifferent at best. Most of the lampposts were without power, lightbulbs, or the inside wiring. There were very few cars, older models for the most part, parked along the street. The street was deserted, and the only sounds beside her footfalls were distant and without definition. But something gnawed at her, and she stopped, and surveyed the area around her. Something was wrong. She could feel it. But What?
She reached into her coat for the large semiautomatic pistol she had just started carrying, when she heard the sounds of shots, muffled by the buildings around her. A long, high pitched, ripping sound of at least two machine guns, punctuated with the thundering booms of a heavy caliber pistol. They were coming from the pool hall, and the glass in the Niko's front
door shattered as a wild shot passed through it.
Fargo! He's in trouble! She spun, the pistol out and ready to fire once a target presented itself. When none did, she started back towards the pool hall at an uneasy jog.
She'd covered half the distance to the damaged door when an amplified electronic voice shouted "SYL! TWO HOSTILES AT SEVEN O'CLOCK, ADVANCING ON YOUR POSITION!"
Without thought, she turned and started tracking the closer of the two figures running towards her. They had appeared from an alley half a block down the street. In the dim light, all Sylia could make out was they both male, wore the worn clothing of street people, and carried assault rifles.
The N-Police on some type of raid? she thought. Where are the sirens, and the uniformed officers?
"AD Police!" she yelled at them. "Identify yourself!"
The nearer figure stopped fifty meters away, snapped the assault rifle he carried to his shoulder and opened fire. The muzzle vomited flame, and a high pitched ripping sound started.
Damn! That answers my question! Sylia dropped to one knee and fired twice, the flat crack of her pistol startling in the once silent night. Her target folded over and collapsed, the rifle falling out of his hand and clattering on the street. Without pause, Sylia started tracking the other target. Before she could fire, the figure threw himself into a darken doorway thirty meters down the street from her.
Sylia scramble towards the nearest cover, a decrepit looking van, just as the other figure opened fire. She felt the slugs slam into the other side of the van, and heard the windows shatter under the storm of lead. When the shooting paused, she leaned around the end of the van and snapped off three shots in the direction of the doorway. The reply was prompt and the van took several dozen more rounds. Sylia shielded she head from the rain of shattered glass fell on her. I can't stay here too much longer, she thought quickly. I don't have enough ammo for a long fight, and the N-Police will be here soon. I wish -
"STAND BY FOR INCOMING!"
She was startled by the voice that had warned her seconds before. She had just enough time to realize that her benefactor was now joining the fight before she hear the sound of a missile screaming down from above her. The doorway across the street exploded in a mass of white flames, shattering windows and rattling walls. The van trembled under the shock wave, and Sylia was knocked to the ground.
Gritting her teeth in determination, she got to her feet, her pistol still tightly gripped in her hand. Her head hurt, and she felt sick to her stomach. She took a deep breath, and started to cough as she took in a lungfull of dust. She leaned against the van until the spasm stopped. Her eyes were watering, and she fought the temptation to black out.
"Sylia!"
She looked up and saw Fargo charge out of the pool hall, a semi-automatic pistol in one fist, a machine pistol in the other. He saw her and jogged over to her, his eyes roaming the surrounding area with the practice of someone well versed in urban combat.
"Are you all right?" he asked her, and Sylia noted real concern in his voice.
"I'll live," she replied in a rasping voice. "What happened in there?"
"After you walked out, two of the other pool players pulled out machine pistols and tried to kill me." There was no bravado in his voice, just a simple tone of explanation. "They came close too." He looked around. "They tried to kill you too?"
Sylia nodded. "We better get out of here before the police show up."
"You're right," he said, putting his own pistol away. He wiped his fingerprints off the machine pistol before he dropped it onto the sidewalk. "Can you drive?"
"No, you drive Fargo," said an electronic voice from above them.
Fargo had his pistol back in his hand with amazing swiftness, and pointed it at a shadow looking down at them from the roof of the pool hall. "Who the Hell are you?" He shouted.
The shadow stepped off the roof into the air. It fell until a set of thrusters flared to life, slowing the decent. It landed with ease several meters from the front door of the pool hall.
Both Sylia and Fargo stared at the hardsuited figure striding towards them. For a moment, Sylia thought it was a Knight Saber hardsuit, but after a closer look, she saw it was more angular then the suits she designed. It was burnished Black in color, with dark gold highlights glinting in the flames from across the street. The helmet was fashioned to resemble a medieval Knight's helmet. There was a small insignia of a Black knight's head on a gold shield on the hardsuit's right breast.
"You can call me Knight One, Fargo," said the person inside the hardsuit. "And you can put that gun away. We are on the same side here."
"Are we?" replied Sylia, feeling stronger. "That missile you fired nearly killed me."
"I had limited choices. That one wasn't human, but a modified C-class Boomer," Knight One replied carefully. "I couldn't hit it from my position with my other weapons and be sure I could eliminate it before it move in to finish you off."
"So, why are you here?" asked Fargo. "Just passing through?"
"I wanted to make sure that the note my people gave you made it to the right people." He reached out and plucked something off Fargo's coat lapel. Sylia's eyes narrowed as she saw something small in Knight One's metal fingers.
"A transmitter!" snarled Fargo. He leveled his pistol at Knight One's helmet. "Why don't I shoot you now," he growled. "And leave your body here with the others?"
"For one thing, that pistol won't penetrate this armor," replied Knight One in a cool voice that, despite the electronic filtering, Sylia found familiar somehow. "Also, the N-police will be here in a minute and half, and you don't have the time to waste. I'm monitoring the police traffic right now. Drive yourself and your contact out of the area now, or spend the rest of the night trying to explain to the police what happened here. Your choice."
"He's right, Fargo," said Sylia slowly, putting her pistol away. "We don't have time to discuss anything right now." Including how you knew a nickname I haven't used in years, she added to herself.
Fargo hesitated for a second, then nodded, and put his gun away. "This isn't over, Knight One," he said with a growl.
"Make an appointment with Mr. Mallory tomorrow," replied the hardsuited figure. "And you can complain directly to him. I'm here under his orders, not yours."
"Let's go," said Sylia, grabbing Fargo by the arm and pulling him towards her car. By the time they reached the Mercedes-Benz, the sounds of sirens could be heard. Sylia tossed Fargo the keys and they climbed in.
Knight One watched them drive off before he activated his thrusters and shot into the air. He landed on the roof of the opposite direction that Sylia and Fargo had taken. Two buildings later, he stopped and watched the lights of the oncoming police vehicles. Let's see if I can draw off some of the police response from the area and give Sylia a chance to get clear.
When the first of the police helicopters swept into the area, he didn't try to hide from them. He stood in the open and allowed himself to be seen. As soon as the helicopters swung round, he took off running, ignoring the amplified orders to halt and surrender.
You and I are going to have a long talk, Sylia. He thought. Assuming I don't get killed or captured by the police in the next twenty minutes.
**********