Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Black Knights, Steel Hearts ❯ Chapter 45

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

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The Bubble Gum Crisis OVA's (which this story is based on) are copyrighted
by Artmic Inc. and Youmex, Inc. I am just borrowing the characters for a little
while for non-monetary reasons. Serious CandC will be accepted, out-and-out
flames will result in a Boomer or two being sent after you, once they get around
to building them.

Please, enjoy my take on the Bubble Gum Crisis universe . . .
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Chapter 45

Warehouse #41526584
Yokohama District
Monday, December 24, 2035
3:14pm

The day and night had passed quietly in the warehouse, despite the warfare that had occurred in the early morning hours the day before. Most of the Knights and others that had been out in the field were still sleeping, while the support technicians and medical personnel continued their own responsibilities. Others monitored the emergency channels, piecing together the results of the last twelve hours.

Marcus Jackson yawned as he walked towards the office. Six hours of sleep had worked wonders, but it still wasn't enough. He down half the contents of his coffee cup, then entered the office.

He stopped short at the sight of his friend and boss sitting at the desk. "When did you show up?" he asked.

Greg glanced at his watch. "About two hours ago."

Marcus walked over to the couch and dropped into it. "I thought you'd be still be with Janie."

"Mayer threaten to sedate me for the next several days if I didn't stop hovering. So I came here to look over the paperwork from last night."

"How's Janie?"

"Physically, she's stable. I don't know about her mental state."

"Has she waken up?"

Greg shook his head. "Meyer thinks that it's best that she doesn't wake up until she's home with her mother by her side."

Marcus closed his eyes. "I really hate this job sometimes."

"So do I."

"I wish we'd had those two in our sights last night. We could have solved so many of our problems if we'd killed them."

"Don't give up hope yet. My sources say that the twins have worn out their welcome with everyone. Besides ourselves, Gulf and Bradley have a Shoot-On-Sight order out for them, and Quincy has activated a hunter team. The police, the governments of Japan and the United States have a dragnet out for them, and Skeeter's put the word out on the street. If either one sticks their head up of whatever hole they've slithered down, they're going to lose it." Greg's expression was one of mild anger. "I don't care who nails their hide to the wall. As long as someone does it."

"What are we going to do next?"

"We're going to spend another day here, then head home."

Marcus sighed. "I wanted to be home for Christmas."

"So did I. But we need this day. Meyer thinks that Janie will be stable enough to be moved by then, the teams can get some need rest and repairs done, and I'll have some time to clear up some lose ends."

"Does one of those lose ends involved your dinner date from last night?" asked Marcus with a smile.

Greg returned his smile. "I wouldn't go that far, but I am having dinner with her tonight."

"Twice in two days? Sounds serious."

"It is."

"Do we get a name to go along with the face?"

Greg leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Maybe later."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Enter," Greg called out.

Jeena and Leon walked into the office. The one-armed woman gave her boss a cheerful wave while Leon was more sated in his greeting. "How's Janie?' Jeena asked.

"Still hanging in there. You two did good work last night."

Jeena shrugged. "It was fun to be on the giving end of the battle then on the receiving end this time around."

"Do you think Inspector Wong is going to give you any trouble over the attack?"

Leon shook his head, "Daley's has too much on his plate as it stands right now. He trusts Jeena, so he's not going to cause waves in MALCORP's direction. Gulf and Bradley is going to take up most of his investigation time."

"How did Skeeter's people do?"

"He had a few casualties, lost an armored car at the Institute, but he seemed awfully pleased with himself when I talked to him."

"Might have something to do with the large number of Yakuza bodies they found at the
storage site," said Marcus.

Leon snorted. "Figures." He looked at Greg. "Skeeter told me to tell you that he wants to explore the possibility of an alliance for some future projects."

"We're not going to do anything illegal," said Marcus.

"I don't think Mr. Karns is talking about getting us involved in anything illegal," replied Greg slowly, looking amused.

"Skeeter prefers to keep his operations out of the public eye," said Leon, "but he might hit you up for a school or a clinic for his turf."

"We might do better then that," said Greg, looking thoughtful. "Marcus, could you find Marla for me? I need her to put some plans into motion."

"What sort of plans?' asked Marcus.

"Ambitious plans. I think it's time we started expanding into Asia more then we've been doing."

"Expanding? Here?"

"Why not? With Gulf and Bradley-Japan in shambles, it would be the perfect time. We spin off our current holdings here with some new acquisitions in a corporation headed up by a senior vice-president, and a local board of directors. We pick some small companies and cast offs from other corps and build slowly."

"Assuming Quincy allows you to do that."

"It'll be years before the new corp would be anything but a mild annoyance, and Quincy doesn't both with small annoyances. Go get Marla."

"Right."

Greg waited until Marcus left the office before he looked at Leon. "What do you think of our operations here?"

"I'm impressed. I can see why Jeena likes working for you."

"Do you want to come onboard MALCORP full time? We pay well for experienced people like you."

There was silence for several seconds. Leon shook his head. "I can't," he said. "No offence, but --"

"You're not sure you can trust us in the long run," Greg finished. He shrugged. "I'm not offended. Jeena, you owe me twenty."

Jeena sighed and took out her wallet, she handed Greg a US twenty dollar bill. "I thought he would have jumped at the chance," she said with a reluctant expression."

Leon frowned. "I don't understand. You expected me to say no?"

Greg place the bill into his pocket and smiled. "Leon," he said smoothly. "The offer was, and is, genuine, but you don't strike me as the type that would accept it right now. I can't say about down the road, but you are not the corporate type."

"I don't know if I should be insulted or pleased."

"In your case, take it as a complement."

"I'm not enamored by the corporations I've had to deal with over the years."

"I don't blame you. In fact, I understand exactly where you're coming from. This city brings out a certain edge of cynicism that you don't see elsewhere, and after the actions of the last two days, none of corporations who were involved improved our collective images any."

"You were the only one who had a motive I could agree with."

"True, but if you didn't like my motive, you would have walked away from MALCORP without a second thought. We had a common goal, getting Janie VanDell back from a pair of walking snakes, but that goal is over, so our paths with separate again."

"You seemed like you already knew my answer before you asked the question."

Greg shrugged again. "One of the reason why I'm successful is I can read a person's motives very quickly. You're a man of principles, and you stick to them. I respect people who have them and defend them. You're afraid that you'll have to sacrifice them for the sake of your job, good pay and benefits."

"You make it sound like I'm too noble," said Leon.

"There's nothing wrong with being too noble, as long as you keep it perspective. You can."

"Nobility isn't going to get me paid."

"No, but I know an outfit that can use the skills attitude you possess that can really use your skills."

"Who?"

"The ADP."

"What?" shouted Leon. "I quit that outfit. They're not going to take me back!"

"On the contrary, they will. You see, another talent you have is choosing people who will do what they can to help you. You didn't quit, you went undercover to try and stop a coprwar."

"I what?"

"It's true," Jeena said with a smirk. "You're listed as being on vacation. You saw there was a corpwar brewing, but you didn't have time to brief and place an undercover officer into the situation, so you decided to do it yourself. Daley went to bat for you and convinced the chief that you staged the blow-up in his office to establish your status and make you a probable target for recruitment. And you were recruited."

"But how am I going to explain what happened?" Leon asked. "I don't have any evidence that would hold up in court."

"It won't go as far as that," Greg replied. "Quincy doesn't want an investigation into this matter, just on general principles. Gulf and Bradley sure as hell doesn't want an investigation, because of the twins' actions with the Thor satellite. I don't want an investigation, because I don't want to expose Janie to any more trauma. Therefore, a word in the right ear, and there will be no investigation. You'll write up a report, it'll be filed, then forgotten. There will be an official explanation that no one will believe, and there will be conspiracy theories that'll somehow tie this all into a grand plan to take over the world for an invading race of aliens."

"That almost makes sense," said Jeena.

"What do I put into the report?" asked Leon.

"The basic truth, just shade some of the details," replied Greg. "MALCORP came to retrieve something of value that Gulf and Bradley stole. Gulf and Bradley didn't want to give the item up, and there was some violence. You were hired as guide and local expert, but you weren't in on the planning sessions."

"I suppose that will work."

Jeena snorted. "According to Daley, that moron in the chief's chair will believe anything. Just don't make it too elaborate. It would only confuse him."

Greg leaned forward. "We also picked up a gentleman who would be able to supply some of the answers to some of our questions. Do you remember A Doctor Richard Mclaren?"

Leon nodded. "Yes. He was involved with the giant boomer project a couple of years back. But he's suppose to be in jail."

"Not for the last two months. Carlton 'borrowed' him to work on the force shield project. We're not sure what we're going to do with him. Bradley forced him to work on the project, and he knows too much to simply let go."

"How about putting him back into prison?" suggested Jeena.

"How do we do that without rasing the alarm?"

"I'll talk to Skeeter," said Leon. "He might know a way to smuggle Mclaren back into prison. But how do we keep him silent about this?"

Greg smiled. "We let Mr. Karns talk to him. I think a few choice words from him with solve any possible problems with the good doctor's silence, at least long enough for MALCORP to get him transferred to another prison in the US." He leaned forward. "But let's go on to another subject. While you won't come to work for MALCORP full-time, could I temp you with a role as a consultant?"

"What sort of consultant?" asked Leon.

"MALCORP is looking to expand into the police market, especially in the area of Boomer control. We need people who have street experience who can work with our people in developing effective anti-boomer weapons. You would be perfect for the position."

"What would I get out of it?"

"Besides a nice paycheck?" Greg placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. "How about enough of the new weapons you help develop to outfit the ADP at no charge to the department?"

"Are you serious?"

"Very. This farce of boomer rampages has gone on too long, and people have suffered because of it. I think it's time to make a stand."

"Is that all you want from me?"

Greg shook his head. "I also want to set up an independent corporation that would be owned by members of the ADP to invest and manage money from the members of the ADP, both active and retired. It would act as a source of income for those crippled in the line of duty, or for the children of widows and orphans. I will make sure MALCORP kicks in a large, one-time sum to get things started, but this company will be independent from MALCORP's control after that. I want both of you to be part of that."

"How much would this 'one-time' sum be?"

"How about a quarter of a billion US dollars?"

Leon raised an eyebrow, but it wasn't enough to disguise his surprise. "Why the sudden outpouring of goodies?"

"Because I can. Because I like helping people. Because it'll tweak Quincy's nose. Because I can write off the investment on my tax bill. Your choice."

"You're making a real effort to sell me," said Leon.

Marla walked in without knocking. Greg looked at her. "Do you have the list of businesses?" he asked.

"Yes Sir."

"What about the other item?"

"The jeweler was a bit surprised at the request, but he agreed to the commission. It should be ready by six tonight."

"Good. Let me see the list."

Marla, looking rested and relaxed, pulled a sheet from a folder she was holding and walked over to the desk. She handed the paper to Greg. Greg scanned it and nodded.

"What's that?" asked Leon.

"A list of business for sale in the city. Most are too small for companies like MALCORP to bother with, but a few of these might be suitable for the basis of the new ADP company. Look at number eight on the list." He handed the paper to Leon.

Leon scanned the list until his eyes hit the item Greg had mentioned.

#8 - HOT LEGS NIGHTCLUB

"It's for sale?" he asked in surprise.

"The price is not outrageous," Greg replied. "And there's potential for steady growth" He now looked amused. "It would also allow a certain friend of yours to rely on a solid home base for her singing career."

"She'll never go for it."

"Your friend needs friends who can support her other job. Who better then someone who knows and appreciate both her jobs?"

"She'll see it as an attempt to bribe her."

"I get the feeling that she don't like handouts," said Greg with a smile.

"Not her," said Jeena with the same smile.

"Could I discuss it with her?" asked Leon.

"If you like. I think we can have the basic corporate structure in place by the new year, and I suggest you move fast before people realize who you are."

"I want to think about it."

"That's fine. I could send you a list of reliable people who can run the day-to-day operations of the company, but I think the board of directors should all be ADP people. I can start the process right now, but it would be up to you and the other ADP officers to decide if and when to put this plan into operation."

Leon looked over at Jeena. "What do you think about this?"

Jeena smirked as she shrugged. "I say go for it. Who do you think suggested the idea to the boss in the first place?"

"Couldn't this be considered a conflict of interest?"

"Only if we invest in boomer technology, which may not be a bad idea."

"Give me until the new year to think this over," said Leon.

"Fair enough," replied Greg. "When you came to a decision either way, you can contact me through Jeena."

Leon nodded. "You're not at all I'd expected a CEO of a mega-corporation to be like."

"I was never one to conform to stereotypes. Which reminds me...." He looked at Jeena. "Have you paid him yet?"

Jeena was still smiling. "Nope."

"I think that's the last order of business before we part ways. Jeena?"

The one-armed woman's smile got even broader as she reached into the pocket of her jumpsuit and extracted a large roll of cash. Instead of counting off some bills, she said to Leon, "Hold out your hand." When Leon did so, she dropped the entire roll onto his hand.

Frowning, Leon flipped through the roll, noting the large denominations of the bills. He glanced at Greg. "That's a lot of cash," he said finally.

The CEO looked relaxed. "I decided you deserved a bonus for your help."

"I see." Leon looked at the roll. "I'm not sure if I should accept it."

"Take it. You worked hard for it, and you definitely earned it. Without your help, I think we would have been still searching for Janie and we might have had even heavier causalities. This amount will square things between MALCORP and you."

"Don't you dare think about refusing it," said Jeena with a dangerous gleam in her eye. "Because if you did, I would have to refuse my bonus, and if that happens, I will make you life miserable."

Leon glanced at her. "You wouldn't."

"You know me better then that, Rookie. I've already have plans for that money, and I'm not about to let your sense of honor ruin it for me."

"I would have to turn this cash in as evidence."

"No you don't." Jeena extracted another, smaller roll of cash and slapped it into Leon's other hand. "You give them this."

Leon glanced at the new roll. Despite being smaller then the first roll, it was still a healthy amount. "I don't know if they'll accept this."

"It's what will be officially listed in our expense reports," said Greg. "But if they never ask for it, I won't object if you kept it."

Leon sighed and pocketed both rolls. "You two drive a hard bargain."

"That's the way I've always worked," replied Greg, standing up and extending his hand to Leon. "It has been a pleasure working with you, Leon. If you ever want to come work for MALCORP, you will be welcomed. I hope you take me up on my proposals. I think we can both make a difference in this city."

Leon took the offered hand. "You've given me some things to think about," he admitted.

"Good. As I said, when you come to a decision, You can contact me through Jeena."

Jeena linked her arm through Leon's. "Come on Rookie, we're going to have an early dinner, then some nightclubbing before you go back to the glamor of the ADP."

"Anywhere in particular?" asked Leon.

"Well, the Hot Legs nightclub should be jumping tonight. Who knows? Maybe your girlfriend will be there."

"I doubt it."

Jeena grinned. "This is Christmas, the season of miracles. At the very least, you'll have one night to enjoy without having to respond to a boomer rampage." She tugged on his arm. "Come on, Rookie, lets roll."

**********

AD Police Headquarters
Monday, December 24, 2035
6:09pm

Alan leaned back in his chair and stretched. "Another day," he muttered, "another handful of Yen."

"Hmm?" asked Nene. A long day of work on top of little sleep the night before was taking it's toll on her. Instead of going home, she had sacked out on a cot in the Sabers' ready room for six hours, checked the net for any sign of the Bradleys for most of Sunday, then caught six more hours of sleep. That morning, Mackie had driven her into work. She wondered if she'd stay awake long enough to make it home. And she promised Mackie that she'd join him and maybe the others at the Hot Legs for a celebration later tonight....

Alan stood and leaned over the cubical wall. "Did your boyfriend keep you up THAT late?" he asked, amusement in his tone. "Or are you already turning into the nasty mean-spirited bosses we all hate and despise?"

Nene glared at him. "It wasn't like that," she grumbled. "I was up half the weekend working on a detection program to supplement the ones we already have."

"Oh? Any luck?"

"Some," she replied stiffly. "Give me another week, and it'll be ready for a Beta test."

"Want me to give you a hand with it?"

She shrugged. "I suppose you can. How fast can you code?"

Alan straightened and buffed his fingernails on his shirt. "I know a thing or two about coding." He smiled. "And since I have nothing resembling a social life, I can devote time to it."

The low snarl in Nene's throat brought a smile to Alan's face. "Calm down, Boss," he said easily. "No need to go ballistic on me. It's Christmas Eve."

"So?"

"So don't pull a Scrooge act on me."

"So what are you going to do for Christmas?" asked Nene.

"Sleep in," replied Alan stretching.

"You don't have family?"

"They're all in the US. I'm working today and the day after Christmas, because we're so short-handed that I couldn't take any time off. I'll have to be satisfied with a long vid-call with the family. What about you?"

"I-I'm not on speaking terms with my parents right now."

"Oh? Why?"

"They think I should be going to college, find a nice guy, marry and settle down."

Alan smiled. "You don't strike me as the bookworm type."

Nene made a face. "Keep it up, Corporal," she growled, "and you'll be working for the traffic division."

Alan made a face. "Not that!" he said in mock seriousness, waving his hands. "Anything but that!"

"Good."

"So that means you'll have more time for your boyfriend."

Nene rolled her eyes, then grinned mischievously at Alan. "I've got an idea," she said slowly.

"What?"

"You're not doing anything tonight, are you?"

"Besides sleeping? No."

"Good. I'm meeting Linna and another friend at a local bar tonight. You're coming along."

"Me?"

"Yes. I'm ordering you to come along and have a good time."

Alan looked askance at her. "Huh?"

"You told me you haven't had a night out in two years, right?"

"Er...yes, but-"

"And Linna is between boyfriends right now."

"But --"

"And my boyfriend is going to be there too. And I promised Linna to find someone for her tonight." Linna, don't you dare find someone else before tonight! she thought. "Plus, Priss doesn't believe I actually have anyone working for me in this job, and I want to prove her wrong."

Alan frowned. "Who's Priss?"

"Priss, as in 'Priss and the Replicants.' You know, the music you were listening to the first time I met you?"

Alan's eyes lit up. "You know Priss Asagiri? Wow."

"She doesn't like drooling fan boys," replied Nene defensively. "Especially drooling fanboys that happen to be cops."

Alan gave her a grin. "Don't worry, Boss. I won't embarrass you by acting like Leon,"

"You'd better not!"

"Besides, if she's resistant to 'Mister Macho,' what chance would a tech-weenie like me have?"

"Just promise me you'll be on your best behavior."

"I know Priss' reputation. I want my body parts in the same order they are now."

"Do you know the Hot Legs nightclub?"

Alan smiled. "Sure Boss. What time?"

"Eight o'clock?"

"Sounds fine by me. I shouldn't stay out too late, though."

"Why?" Nene asked, puzzled.

"I don't want to sleep in with a hangover."

"Now who's being the Scrooge?" asked Nene tartly.

Alan shrugged. "I hate hangovers. Besides, you shouldn't be out late yourself. You look tired, and I thought I heard snoring coming from that side of the wall a couple of times today."

"I don't snore!"

"Well, something was snoring over there, and -"

"I don't snore!" Nene repeated, color coming into her cheeks.

Alan again put his hands up. "See? You're already in denial. Another couple of weeks and you'll be just like the rest of the department heads."

"That's not funny!"

Alan became serious. "You'll have to forgive my sense of humor, Nene. It's a little rusty from not being used much the last couple of years. It's a thankless job we've been stuck with, and humor's about the only outlet we're going to get."

"I know. Just try and tone it down, Okay?"

Alan smiled. "Sure thing, Boss."

"I wish I'd known beforehand that you weren't going to be able to spend Christmas with your family," said Nene. "I could have arranged emergency leave for you. I think you could have used it."

"No need, boss. My family's been soldiers for the past five generations, so we're use to not having all the family together at holidays." He smiled. "Besides, there's no way I'd leave you alone with this mess."

Nene smiled back. "Thanks."

Alan glanced at his watch. "If you want to meet over at the nightclub at eight, then we better get moving. I want to take a shower and get changed."

"Me too. I think it'll only take us ten minutes to put everything we can into place for the next couple of days."

"That sounds good to me." Alan disappeared behind the cubical wall and for the next seven minutes there was nothing but the sounds of two set of fingers running over a couple of keyboards.

**********

Dastari's Restaurant
Monday, December 24, 2035
7:53pm

The restaurant was surprisingly busy tonight as Sylia walked out of the elevator.

The same Matra de' from yesterday walked over to her. "Good Evening, Miss Stingray," he said formally. "Mr. Mallory is awaiting your arrival. If you will please follow me?"

As Sylia followed the smartly dressed head waiter, her mind drifted back over the last fourty hours. The KnightWing had managed to make it back to the Lady633 building before the last of the night had faded. Using the aircraft's engine mufflers at full, Mackie managed to guide the aircraft onto its landing pad, which quickly dropped into the tower and away from prying eyes. By the time they descended to the main hanger, the Sabers were out of their hardsuits and had secured everything away.

For reasons of morale, Sylia had decreed that everyone get some sleep before they did anything else. Nene had begged off, citing that she had to check several things on the net, but Sylia had insisted that the ADP officer take a nap anyway, with Mackie promising to drive Nene in time for her shift on Monday morning. Reluctantly, Nene laid down on a cot and promptly fell asleep. The others followed suit, with the exception of Mackie.

By the time the Sylia and the others had gotten several hours of needed sleep, Mackie had taken it upon himself to clean up the hardsuits, put them into storage, and make breakfast. As they ate, Mackie told them he'd made plans to take Nene to the Hot Legs nightclub after work on Monday, and would the others like to come along? Linna had said yes, Priss had to prodded into accepting, but Sylia declined, telling about the dinner with Greg. That caused a reaction.

"I told you," Priss had muttered darkly. "He isn't going to stop until you're married to him, or he's dead."

"It's a business dinner," Sylia had replied. "To arrange the details of the payment. Nothing more."

"You'll be the one getting the business," Priss said gruffly.

"I can take care of myself."

"Are you sure, Sis?" Mackie asked, his concern that of a brother for a sister. "He might be obsessive about you."

Sylia shook her head. "I can take care of myself," she repeated. "Greg Mallory is not going to kidnap me and carry me off, all right?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," said Priss.

"He is a honorable man."

"Honor has nothing to do with his thoughts about you."

Sylia shook her head. "If it will make you happy, I'll wear an emergency beacon, just in case, all right?"

"Don't do anything rash," said Linna. That earned her a stare from the other three. She flinched. "What?" she said defensively.

"Never mind," replied Sylia with a smile.

The meeting broke up after that, and Sylia spent the rest of that day and the next going over paperwork and the hardsuits. Late in the afternoon, she got ready for the dinner.

She decided for a less formal dress and appearance for the dinner, to stress the business aspect of the meeting. So, she chosen a cream color, knee length skirt and coat over a pale blue blouse, with white, low-heel shoes and purse. She had driven herself to the appointment and now was steeling herself for the meeting.

Greg rose from his chair as the maitre de' and Sylia approached. The table he was sitting at was again was next to the window, though it was a different location. The anti-eavesdropping device was on the table, the little lights indicating it was on. Greg was dressed in a dark blue suit with a shirt and tie that was a slightly lighter shade of blue. He smiled at Sylia and motioned to the seat on the other side of the table. "Good evening."

Sylia sat down and place her purse on the table. "I'm surprised that it's this busy tonight."

Greg resumed his seat. "My fault. Most of these people are senior MALCORP management and department heads, getting together for dinner and talk." With a nod from Greg, the Maitre de' left them alone.

"I didn't expect to walk into a party," Sylia said.

"Not a party. I don't plan to give any speeches tonight, though I will have to move about later to press the flesh and pass the encouraging word. But that is later."

"I wanted to get our business out of the way."

Greg nodded. "Would you care to order first? The food is excellent."

"I know." Sylia picked up the menu and scanned it. "How is Janie?"

"She will survive, no thanks to Carlton and Cora. But it won't be easy or a short recovery. Doctor Meyer has decided to keep Janie sedated until she's home. But she has a chance, which is all I want for her now."

"What were the final casualty figures?"

For an instant, Greg looked weary. "We had four Knights injured, two of them seriously. Mr. Karns losses were five killed, seven wounded." He then gave Sylia a small smile. "But it seems that his unit that hit the storage uncovered a large Yakuza drug lab in the basement."

Sylia looked up him. "A drug lab? How did that happened?"

"I don't know. All I know is the entire storage facility was raise to the ground, including the office building with the lab in it. Mr. Karns takes a dim view on drug pushers, doesn't he?"

"A very dim view," Sylia replied. She glanced down at the menu again. "Anything new on the Bradleys?"

"No. They've gone to ground. My sources say that a Miss Martha Desalvo has been sent in to get a handle on things for Gulf and Bradley, and she wants the twins dead almost as bad as I do."

"And GENOM?"

"Quincy's looking for them, as expected."

Sylia closed the menu. "I'm ready to order."

"So am I." Greg raised his hand into the air, and, if by magic, a waiter appeared. After both of his customers had order, he vanished into the kitchen.

"Do you want to discuss payment now?" Sylia asked.

Greg leaned forward. "I think it would be a good idea. Where and when?"

"It took them five minutes to hash out the details. After they had finished, Greg smiled. "You definitely did not pick that stuff up in a classroom."

"I have plenty of experience," Sylia replied, still keeping her cool, business-like manner. "Anything else you wish to discuss?"

When she saw the gleam in Greg's eye, she knew she had just made a mistake.

"Several things," he replied blandly. "For a change of pace, let's get the personal business out of the way first." He removed a small case from his pocket and placed it in from of Sylia. "I want you to have this, if you'll accept it."

Sylia stared at the box. It was small and expensive-looking, with plush material covering it. She reached for it slowly, her eyes never leaving the box. Once her fingers caressed it, she picked it up with care, her mind screaming what she already knew was inside the box. Delicately, she opened the box, and her fears and suspicions were confirmed. At that moment, complete indecision gripped her.

It was a ring, sitting on the velvet material inside. The band was gold, two strands of metal twisted around each other for the entire band. A number of colored gems were placed around a diamond about he size of her thumbnail, and her mind noted that the color of the gems on the left side of the setting matched the color of the Saber's hardsuits, white, blue, green and red -- while the gems on the other half were the black and gold of the Black Knights.

Sylia didn't know how long she stared at it. She felt the conflict inside of her, and she could do nothing but let it continue.

It's an engagement ring! part of her mind was shouting.

So? the rational part of her mind countered. I can't marry him.

Slowly she closed the box and pushed it toward Greg. "I can't accept it," she said.

"Because of what it represents?"

She nodded. "I told you I have commitments here. I can't walk away from them."

"I would never ask you to do that."

"Then, why the ring?"

Greg leaned forward. "Remembered when we discussed the future? How if all you ever thought about was the present, you would lose your future?"

"I remember. I'm not sure if I want to think that far ahead."

"I'm not asking to think that far ahead."

"Then, what do you want from me? We've only seen each other for a couple of days, but you want me to marry you. Why?"

Greg steepled his fingers. "I've already explained my reason. I have no other motives then those I listed before. Do I have to explain them again?"

"No," Sylia said with a shake of her head. "But I am wondering if maybe your thoughts about me have been...influenced."

He frowned at her. "Influenced? By what?"

"By the data unit you received when you were sixteen."

"Ah. That's your worry, isn't it?" Greg nodded slowly. "You think that your father programmed my data unit so I would fall in love with you."

"My father did have a favorable opinion of you. I wouldn't have put it past him to make sure we would fall in love with each other."

Greg chuckled softly. "Do you actually believe that?"

"It is something I think we could consider."

"He didn't have to program the data unit for that."

Sylia gave him a startled look. The firmness of his statement had surprised her.

The CEO continued, his tone steady, his expression soft. "I wasn't candid with you at lunch yesterday, because I didn't want to give you the impression I was obsessed with you."

"What do you mean?"

"The week before my mother and I left Japan, I had a short meeting with your father."

"I don't remember --"

"You were in school at the time. At that meeting, I told him then that I intended to come back in ten years and court you."

"What?" Sylia's tone was flat.

"I was fifteen years old at the time, young and full of bravo. Your father smiled at me and said he wouldn't object to my courtship of you, as long as I graduated from college and applied myself in whatever career I chose."

"He didn't."

"He did. As I look back on that meeting, he seemed rather amused at my announcement."

"He never said anything about it to me."

"I wouldn't have, in his place."

A waiter came over with a tray and placed two cups and a pot on the table, then withdrew. The conversation lagged until after Greg poured them each a cup of tea. They each took a sip, then Sylia asked, "So why didn't you came back three years ago?"

"Several reasons," Greg replied. "I had a major corporation that needed my attention, the Black Knights needed my direction, and I wasn't sure you would welcome my attention at this time. If it wasn't for Janie, I don't think I would have gotten here for another year or two."

"You knew I was behind the Knight Sabers before you came."

"I had strong suspicions. The hardsuit technology we have in common proved it came from the same source."

"What made you change your mind about romancing me?"

Greg snorted. "Some romance. If we're not fencing with words over a meal, we're dueling with Boomers over a girl's life."

"That is not an answer."

"Do you mean, why I'm pursuing you now?"

"If you like to phrase it that way."

"I had wanted to meet you, for purely business reasons, but when I saw you for the first time yesterday, I remembered why I told your father that I would be back thirteen years ago. The promise I saw in you then has been realized in your beauty, your intelligence, and your strength of character. I remembered why I loved you even back then."

Sylia was silent for a moment. "I still cannot accepted the ring," she said, fighting to keep her voice level.

"I don't want an answer now, or next week, or even next year." Greg picked up the box and held it out to Sylia. "What I want you to do with this is to keep it as a reminder that there is a future beyond fighting GENOM. A life I want to share with you."

"You're not going to take 'no' for an answer, are you?"

"About accepting the ring? No. About the other question?" Greg took a deep breath. "If you were to say 'yes' right now, I would be ecstatic. But I know your answer would be right now and the foreseeable future."

Sylia took the ring box and placed it off to one side of the table, near the window. "I cannot promise that I will ever change that answer."

"I wouldn't expect you to change your answer, under these circumstances."

"Then why even ask the question?"

"Because I must."

"I don't see the situation changing anytime soon."

"As it stands now, you're right." He placed the box in front of her. "But do you want to change that?"

Sylia's eyes narrowed. "In what way?"

"You said the situation here isn't going to get any better. I want to change that, and I will need your help."

"And what is your proposal?"

Greg hunched forward. "I want to make a difference here in this city. To do that, I need to expand MALCORP's operations in Asia. In order to do that, I need people I can trust."

"You want me to head up your operations here?"

Greg shook his head. "That would be too high profile. I will bring in people to run the day-to-day operations. But I want you on the local Board of Directors."

"Why?" Sylia asked bluntly.

"Because I trust you."

"You don't know me."

Greg shook his head. "You're wrong there. Sylia. I know you well enough to want you on my side." He sipped his tea. "I want you to make sure we're not putting profit over people. You are smart enough to chose a good position, tough enough to stick to your guns when you need to, and caring enough to remember that the corporation is not the god we live under."

"It sounds like you want me to be the consciousness of the board."

"Not its consciousness, its perception."

Sylia sipped some tea. "Suppose I agree to this. What are you offering in exchange?"

"As a Director, you would have stock opinions and a salary. You would also have access to research materials and other items that you could find useful for the Sabers."

"That doesn't interest me."

"You need allies, Sylia. You've done a lot on your own, but you're just sticking your finger in the dike. You are forced to react to Quincy's calling of the tune. I can help you stop reacting and start acting to improve things."

Sylia sipped her tea, her eyes never leaving Greg. "What do you mean by 'improving things?" she asked, holding the cup in her hand.

"First, MALCORP is going to equipt the ADP with effective anti-boomer weapons."

Sylia stared at him. "How are you going to do that? GENOM isn't going to allow the ADP to buy weapons like you describe."

"Who said ADP is going to have to buy them? I've already decided to give the weapons to the ADP at no cost." Greg down half the contents of his teacup, then continued. "After the events in the last couple of days, the city government and the Diet are going to have to do something radical to save what's left of their reputation with the voters. A few words in the right ears, and they will have to accept help, no matter who it is. I'm also bringing Leon McNichol onboard as a 'special consultant,' to help in the design and development of tactics for the new systems."

"'Special consultant'?"

Greg shrugged. "It was the best I could do. As a matter of course, I offered him a position with MALCORP, and -"

"- he turned you down flat," finished Sylia.

"Yep. But he's willing to go back to the ADP. Seems he has friends in high and low places inside the ADP."

"The quality of the personnel have never been the problem at the ADP. Just the people in control don't want them doing too good a job."

"After the last two days, there is no way those in power can let that continue. They are going to have to spend millions to repair the coastal highway, and the insurance claims are going to be astronomical on the damaged and destroyed businesses." There was a glint in Greg's eyes. "And when the rumors start floating around that this was a corpwar that could have been prevented, there's going to be a scramble by the politicos to distance themselves from their paymasters. I plan to wedge MALCORP into that distancing."

"Is that wise?"

"Unless someone does something, it will never get better. I not expecting a miracle overnight. What I'm expecting is the beginning of a better future."

"These new weapon systems for the ADP," said Sylia cooly. "How long are you expecting it will take before the ADP will be armed with them?"

"Ninety days from today."

"That's moving fast."

"With McNichol and other members of the ADP supplying knowledge and advice, we can narrow down our focus to what will and won't work on the street. I've got people putting together ideas and criteria right now. I also have two factories readying themselves for the new systems. The can have the first systems ready to be shipped twenty-four hours from the time the designs are approved."

"Quincy isn't going to take this lying down."

"He'll let me run free while he calculates how much of a problem I will be."

"While you do something else he doesn't expect."

Greg smiled. "Exactly. I have some other projects in the works right now that will hopefully catch that old buzzard off guard when they come out."

"Don't underestimate Quincy. His reach is long and his power is great."

Greg nodded "I know."

Just then, the waiter approached with their dinner. Both Sylia and Greg said nothing while they were served. After the waiter had withdrawn, they started eating. After a couple of minutes, Greg said, "I also want to put the Sabers on a yearly retainer."

Sylia stopped eating. "What for?" she asked.

"This operation pointed out that the Black Knights aren't as effective outside the US. We suffered intelligence, logistics, language and cultural problems on this mission. If it wasn't for the intelligence you and Inspector McNichol supplied, Janie wouldn't be safely in our care right now. There had been a suggestion that MALCORP hire the Sabers to rescue Janie, but I wanted to rescue her myself. I let my heart overrule my head, and it nearly was disastrous."

"What terms are you offering?" Sylia asked.

"Ten million a year for the first three years, plus you have the right to refuse any assignment and a free hand to plan and execute as you see fit."

Sylia shook her head. "Thirty million per year for the first two years, with the other stipulations you mentioned, plus access to the design data for the Black Knight Hardsuits."

Greg looked at Sylia through narrowed eyes. "Fifteen million per year for the first two years, with the refusal and free hand clauses, plus access to the Knight's intelligence databases."

Sylia took another bite of her meal, giving her time to think. "Twenty million per year, two years, with all the stipulations that have been listed so far, plus I chose the mission payment."

"I will agree to the amount, the length, and the stipulations, but I want to retain the amount I offer per mission."

"Minimum amount to be the retainer plus fifty percent."

"Agreed."

The were silent as they continued eating. "If I had any concerns about your business sharpness," Said Greg, "you just allayed them."

Sylia wiped her mouth withe her napkin. "Maybe if you actually tried to bargain, you would have gotten a better deal."

Greg shrugged. "Maybe, but I wanted to make the deal."

"Why the sudden explosion of interest to what's happening here? Are you that committed to marrying me?"

"Yes."

Sylia blinked. "Priss was right about you," she said.

"Oh? What did she say?"

"She expected you to sling me over your shoulder and carry me off to America."

Greg looked thoughtful. "Well, I hadn't contemplated that." He smiled. "It does have a certain appeal."

"She also said you wouldn't no for an answer."

"I'm not use to hearing no, but in you case, if you say 'no', I will accept it."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Why should you?" He picked up the ring box, and held it out to her. "There are not many people in this world I consider friends. I have people who work with me and for me, but I don't feel the same way about them as I do about you."

Sylia looked at the ring box. "I'm not sure I should accept that."

"This ring means more then just a personal promise. It is a promise to this city and the people in it."

"I don't -"

"I am willing to wait for as long as it takes for you to say 'yes', but if I do nothing to change the situation here, then I'll be waiting forever." Greg took a deep breath. "So, I must change the situation in this city. I must become an opposing force to GENOM and the others who see people the same way as they see an office chair -- something that can be replaced every so often. I want your help in changing things here in this city. You cannot do it yourself, no matter how hard you try. I am willing to make a stand. Are you willing to help me do that?"

"Do you realize what you are doing? Quincy is the most powerful person on the planet."

"And if no one challenges him, he'll stay the most powerful person on the planet. I'm not planning to destroy GENOM, just shake it out of its attitude that only they matter in this world. It has become a bloated monstrosity that has sunk it tentacles deep into our society, a cancer that has to be cut back, if humans are to survive and prosper. I've been considering this for a while, but seeing you again has brought a personal purpose to my decision. If nothing else, you've given me a reason to start this fight."

"You could destroy MALCORP doing this."

"I'm willing to risk it. I've been gearing up for this since I took over, but I haven't actually had the courage to take the last step until now. Will you take that step with me, to make an attempt to grind away the excesses of GENOM?"

Sylia glanced between the ring box and Greg's serious expression. "I cannot give you an answer for the personal reason behind this," she said, taking the ring box from Greg's hand. "But for the other things, you have an ally."

"I won't ask you that question until you feel the situation here has improved, but I will ask it sometime in the future. When that time comes, I will abide by your decision. Fair enough?"

"I can accept that."

"Good. In that case, I want to introduce you to some of the other members of the senior MALCORP leadership, as the first member of the new Board of Directors for MALCORP - Far East."

Sylia sighed. "I suppose it's too late to say 'no'."

"Don't worry about it. You'll find them in the same frame of mind as me. Like I said, I've been readying myself for this since I took over." He stood and held out a hand to her. "Are you ready to meet you allies?"

Sylia took his hand. "How much will they know about me?"

"Besides your public persona? Not a damn thing. The Sabers are your secret and whatever happens, that won't change. I can keep secrets too."

Sylia arched an eyebrow. "Don't keep too many secrets from those who might need to know."

Greg smiled as he assisted Sylia to rise out of her seat. "That is half the fun. Shall we mingle?"

**********

Hot Legs Nightclub
Monday, December 24, 2035
9:26pm

Alan had met Nene at the entrance to the nightclub at about eight o'clock and the two had gone in. They found the other three already there, sitting around a table on the terrace overlooking the dance floor and stage. Nene had introduced Alan to both Mackie and Priss, and Alan, dressed in a loose blue sweater and slacks, was polite and charming to Nene's friends. Linna, who had shown up alone, immediately claimed Alan as her date tonight, which the ADP officer did nothing to dispute.

They spent the next hour talking, the conversation possible because of the nightclub's acoustics. By unspoken agreement, they avoided talking about work and instead talked about friends and family. Snacking on an assortment of appetizers, the flow of the conversation at the table remained relaxed, if not familiar. Even Priss, who wasn't happy with having a stranger with them, stayed aloof without being totally removed from the discussion.

The first real break in the talk around the table came when Nene began to snuggle up to Mackie. She had drunk a couple of wine coolers and she was, in Linna's words, "Feeling no pain." Priss, Linna and Alan were more or less spread around the rest of the table, a slight look of disbelief on their faces at the sight of the new lovebirds

Alan shook his head and asked, "Is she always like this after a couple of drinks?"

"Nope," replied Priss with a smile. Her arm was now in a sling, but it hadn't stopped her from consuming a pair of beers. "She likes to try and sing my songs. Sometimes she even hits the right notes."

"I remember one time when she tried to get on top of a table and do a strip tease," said Linna. "Priss and I had to hustle her out of there before she could get started."

Nene mumbled something and snuggled closer to Mackie. He was looking embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Alan smiled. "I'll have to remember that the next time she does my fitness evaluation."

"Don't tell her who told you," said Linna.

"Your secret is safe with me."

"You don't act like a tech weenie," said Priss, looking at Alan.

Alan arched an eyebrow. "How are tech weenie's suppose to act?"

"You haven't said anything about a computer all night. I figured that you, Mackie and Nene would have started discussing the latest tech."

The male ADP officer shrugged. "I'm rather new at being a tech weenie."

"How did you end up as a technical support person?" asked Mackie. "Priss is right, you don't seem the type."

"I was...a front-line officer," Alan said carefully. "I ended up involved in an incident that put me out of action for a while. After that, I was offered a technical position and I took it." His expression hardened. "If you don't mind, I rather not talk about it any more.'

"But -" said Priss.

"He said he didn't want to talk about it," said Linna sharply. "I think we should respect his wishes."

The singer gave the dancer a cold stare. Alan glanced over the rail at the crowd below. "That's interesting," he said mildly.

"What?" asked Priss.

"Inspector McNichol is here."

"Leon?" said Linna.

"Where?" asked Priss.

"By the bar," Alan replied. "He just walked in with a tall, one-armed woman."

"Jeena Malso," said Priss. "Leon's ex-partner."

"So that's Malso. I know her by reputation only."

"What are they doing?" Mackie asked.

"Leon asking the bartender something, while Jeena's scanning the crowd. The bartender is point up here and Leon's turning and he's seen me." He waved down. "They're coming this direction."

"I wonder what they want?" asked Linna.

"I bet you he asked the bartender if he'd seen me," said Priss, a scowl on her face.

"Should we prepare for bloodshed?" Alan asked.

Linna grinned. "I don't think we have to worry about that."

"Oh. She's going to strangle him then?" Priss gave him a dark look.

"Er...Priss and Leon have -" began Linna.

"He doesn't have to know," said Priss flatly.

Linna turned to look at Priss. "He's going to find out sooner or later."

"There's nothing to find out."

"Find out what?" ask Alan.

"Nothing," repeated the singer, glaring at Alan, who ignore her.

Nene burbled something and one of her hands drifted into Mackie's lap. The expression on the younger Stingray's face was hard to describe. "I could use some help here!" he hissed.

Priss' expression became a smirk. "You're on your own, Romeo" she said slowly.

"Maybe you should take her home," suggested Alan. "She told me she was up half of last night working on a new security program, and it's clear she can't hold her alcohol."

Mackie removed Nene's hand from his lap. "I think you're right." He looked down at the sleepy redhead. "Let's go Nene. I'll take you home."

"Nope," Nene replied, her voice soft and slurred, but still understandable. "I want to stay here with my friends."

"But your tired and you're not feeling well, and -"

Nene opened her eyes and stared up into Mackie's face. "I am staying," she said flatly. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. Mackie tried to struggle out of the hold, but the ADP officer had better position and was applying most of her strength to maintain her grasp.

"I don't believe it," said Linna, staring at the sight of her friend lipped locked with her new boyfriend.

"Planning to take notes?" asked Alan in an amused tone.

Linna glared at him. "I don't need any --"

"I think she's giving him the tongue," said Priss in a shock tone as she stared at the kissing couple. "I didn't think it was possible."

"I think she's been practicing," said Linna.

"I think Mackie's stopped struggling," noted Alan, still looking amused. He looked around. "Does anyone have a camera I can borrow?"

"What for?" Linna asked sharply.

Alan grinned. "It's too good an opportunity to pass up. You never know when you might need something like this when I need a good evaluation from her."

Before Linna could reply, Leon and Jeena walked up to the table. "Hello, ladies," Leon said pleasantly, holding a beer in one hand and looking mellow. "How are things...." He stopped and stared at Nene and Mackie, surprise flickering across his features. "Nene?"

Jeena looked amused. "Well, Rookie," she drawled, "there's another one taken. I do hope they come up for air soon."

"Anyone want to start a betting pool?" asked Alan.

Leon glanced over at him. "What are you doing here?"

Alan shrugged. "I was ordered to come here and enjoy myself."

"Who order you to do that?"

"My immediate superior, the senior computer security officer."

"There isn't a senior computer security officer at the ADP," said Leon flatly.

"Yes there is." Alan grinned again. "In fact she's across the table from me right now, cleaning her boyfriend's tonsils."

Leon expression was shock. "Nene? When did that happened?"

"Day before yesterday. Daley did it right after you left on vacation."

Nene broke the kiss and looked up at Leon. "Hi ya, Leon-chan," she chirped happily. "How ya doing? Enjoying your vacation?"

"Er...fine," Leon replied lamely. "And I've had more restful days off." Nene giggled and went back to cuddling a red-face Mackie

"What brings you down here?" Priss asked him, her tone not quite hostile.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"I rather talk to you alone. It's kind of personal."

A vestige of an expression came and went from her face. "I don't know if I should..."

Another group approached the table. Priss eyes narrowed as she saw who they were. "What's your problem now?" she snarled at the newcomers.

The new group didn't look happy. One of them, a short, thin guy with shallow features stepped forward. "Hey Priss," he said, his voice thick. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"What do you want, Kaho?" the singer asked.

The drummer of the Replicants looked ill at ease. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing all right," replied Priss stiffly.

"What happed to your arm?"

"I fell off my motorcycle."

"Oh. Well....that's good. Doing any singing lately?"

"Some. What are you guys doing?"

"We're doing all right. The owner lets us play here a couple of nights a week, but "

"Will you get to the point Kaho?" snapped Hower, the base guitarist.

"What is the point?" Priss asked.

"Well, er...."

"Look," said Hower. "We've been thinking it over and we think "

"We made a mistake when we threw you out of the band," finished Kaho.

Priss leaned back in her chair and stared at her former band mates. "You finally realized that?"

"Don't give us that shit!" Hower snapped angrily. "We weren't the ones who disappeared whenever they felt like it, skipped rehearsals, and piss off the boss three times a week!"

"Chill, Howie," said Kaho. "Starting an argument isn't going to solve our problem." He looked at Priss. "Things haven't been going so well since we parted ways, and --"

"What Kaho is saying," interrupted Francine, a wild-haired blonde who played rhythm guitar for the group, "Is that while you're a pain in the ass when you were with us, we're shit without you. We made a mistake and we're sorry."

"We want you back with the group," finished Kaho

A strange emotion drifted across Priss's face, a blend of hope and anger that went from one to the other in a matter of seconds. But before she could say anything, Leon said. "She accepts."

Everyone turned to look at him. "I didn't realize you were my agent," said Priss acidly.

"Just looking out for your best interests."

"I don't recall hiring you."

"Can we talk for a couple of minutes?" he looked around at the others. "Alone?"

Alan stood up and held his hand out to Linna. "Care to dance?"

Linna glanced at Leon's expression, then Priss', and took Alan's offered hand. "I think we should." She stood and they left the table.

Mackie, with Nene still holding on to him like he was a stuffed toy, said, "I think I'll take Nene home. I'll see you tomorrow, Priss." He stood, and left the table with Nene still clutching his arm.

Priss looked at the Replicants. "Can you give me a couple of minutes?" she said. "I need to talk to my agent here."

"But --" began Hower.

"Chill man," said Kaho. "That's Leon. ADP and Priss' main squeeze." Priss glowered at him, and the drummer took a couple of steps back.

Priss sighed. "Look, give me ten minutes and I should have an answer, Okay?"

Kaho nodded. "Okay, Priss. Ten minutes." The band members walked away.

Jeena slapped Leon on the back. "While you're talking to your girlfriend there, I'm going to see what the local talent has to offer. Don't wait up for me." She strode away, giving them a wave as she did so.

Leon sat in the chair nearest to Priss. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like hell," Priss replied. "My arm stills hurts and I'm stiff. What brings you down here?"

"Jeena suggested it."

Priss snorted. "I don't believe you. You going to go work for MALCORP?"

Leon shook his head, then took a sip of his beer. "They offered, but I turned them down. I'm going back to the ADP."

"You're what?"

"I'm going back to the ADP."

"Why?"

"Because they need me."

Priss looked at him askance. "Why the hell are you doing that?"

"Because I can make a difference there. I've already talked to Daley and I go back the day after tomorrow."

"You're insane."

"Maybe I am."

"Maybe your are." Priss leaned back in her chair. "What brings you down here? Were you looking for me?"

"Not really, but I asked the bartender if he'd seen you tonight and he pointed me in this direction. I really came by because I wanted to talk to the owner about this place."

"Why? Did he forget to make the monthly pay-off?"

"I wanted to see how much he wanted for the place."

"This place?"

"Yes."

"The Hot Legs nightclub?"

"Yes."

Priss' expression was one of pure disbelief. "Who are you bullshitting? You don't have the money to buy this place."

I don't, but I know someone who does."

"Who?"

"I rather not say."

"MALCORP?"

"Sort of."

"What do you mean 'sot of'?"

Leon sighed. "I mean that MALCORP is willing to put up seed money for a corporation."

"What for?" Priss snarled, disbelief and anger in her tone and expression.

"For members and former members of the ADP."

"What is that arrogant son-of-a-bitch up to?"

"Greg Mallory?"

"Yes, that arrogant son-of-a-bitch! Did you sell out to him?"

"What do you mean sell out to him?" Leon shot back. "He's willing to fund seed money for a corporation that would do what this city and GENOM won't -- pay the disabled and those who lost loved ones a decent pension. A situation caused because they won't let the ADP do the job they're supposed to be doing!"

"And running to another megacorp is suppose to a good idea?"

"Hey, I haven't accepted his offer for the money yet."

"So are you thinking of selling out to that bastard?"

"What do you mean sell out? He's also offering to equipt the ADP with anti-boomer weapons, at no cost to the department."

"I don't trust him," said Priss with some heat. "He's just as bad as Quincy is. He thinks he's God, and you're willing to take what scraps he's offering you and you think he's your best friend! I don't buy it!"

Leon's eyes narrow and his mouth tightened. "Look," he said, "It's about time you realized that the world isn't black and white. There's a hell of a lot of gray areas, and you have to chose how much gray you're willing to let into your life."

"Bullshit."

"Is it? You think Greg Mallory is a bastard maybe he is, I don't know. But he's offering something that will help the city and the ADP, which is more then Quincy or the government ever did. Do you know what the average life expectancy of an ADP street trooper is?"

"No."

"A month and a half. We suffer more then thirty percent causalities three times out of five. The press makes us out as gun happy freaks who are in the ADP only because the SDF didn't want us because we're too violent. The public hates us, the government despises us, and GENOM does its best to cripple us. We can't go on like this for much longer before the ADP becomes completely useless in stopping boomers. That would mean more work for you at you other job."

Priss grimaced. Leon was right, though she wouldn't tell him that.

"To put it bluntly," Leon continued, his expression strangely passionate. "We are drowning in a sea of blood and the only one that's holding out a lifeline is MALCORP. If we have any chance of reclaiming any hope of saving this city from the boomers, we need outside help. Greg Mallory is offering that help. I'm beginning to see that I'm not in a position to turn it down, not if I want to halt the slide of the ADP into the abyss."

"So you are leaning towards accepting the offer."

"I am. But I wanted to talk to you first before I accepted it."

"Why start here with your corporation?' Priss asked.

"Most of the money will be invested in business like these, too small for GENOM and the other megacorps to worry about." He smiled. "I have some personal reason for making this place the first asset of the corporation. That's why I want to talk to you first."

"What do you mean?"

"The Hot Legs is almost your home base. How would you like it to be your home base officially?"

"I don't take bribes!"

"Not a bribe. An inducement to get your singing career back on track. And don't tell me you haven't missed singing. I know you too well for you to try and pull that shit on me."

"Look, I don't need your --"

"Look, you need help. Why don't you admit that?"

"I don't want to be in debt to you, all right?"

"Do you think I would take advantage of that?"

"I -" Priss stopped, then shook her head. "No, you wouldn't. You know I'd would accept that."

"But I've seen you on stage. You take the crowd's energy and make your own. Don't tell me you haven't missed that."

Priss' expression was resigned. "I do miss it. But I'm not sure I want to sell my soul to get it back."

"I'm not asking you to do that. Thanks to Mallory, I'm in a position to offer you a chance to do what you love to do, with no strings attached."

"But what about the Sab--"

"We can work around those obligations," said Leon calmly. "And we can construct the agreement so you can play other clubs on a limited basis, and you would retain all rights to your recordings."

Priss leaned back in her chair and glared at him. "Damm it Leon," she snarled. "Just when I think I've gotten you figured out, you go and pull this stunt!"

"Just part of my charm."

"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

Leon shrugged. "I have. You singing is what made me first notice you, and I know how important it is to you. I can't compete with that, so, I have to not only live with it, I have to encourage and support it. So, what do you say?"

"You don't leave much of a choice. If you buy this place, I'll sing here. Satisfied?"

"Good. What about the Replicants?"

Priss glanced in the direction of the band. "They're mediocre without me, but I'm a hell of a lot better with them. If they really want me back, then you can include them in on the deal."

"That's fine. Do you want to go tell them to good news?"

Priss smiled. "Not for a couple more minutes. Let them sweat that much longer."

"You're an evil woman."

"I know."

"Oh, by the way. Priss?"

"Yea?"

"Merry Christmas."

"Yea, it's been a hell of a Christmas season, hasn't it?"

"I hope it's a happier New Year."

Priss picked up her drink. "That," she said seriously, "I'll agree with."

The clank of their bottles was lost in the backbeat of the drums as a band began to play on the stage below....

**********