Sunday, Apr. 21 2:13 AM
Meridiana Airport
The night shift had just hit its 'dead time' at the airport, and the three traffic controllers were
bored out of their skulls. One had already fallen asleep, leaning back in his swivel chair with his feet
propped up on the radar screen. The other two were tired looking at the darkened hangars where the
surplus military helicopters were in storage, throwing pieces of paper at the heavy window.
"So, what're you going to do when the shift's over?"
"Dunno, Jim. Maybe I'll wake Ted up and jump his bones until Eight."
"Cute Melissa. Why don't you keep your sex life to yourself? Hey, what's that out there?"
"Very funny Jim. Last time you tried that, it ended up with me having a sore neck for a week."
Melissa looked out the window anyhow, and frowned as she saw something move near one
of the closer hangars. She gestured for the extra-large binoculars that were near Ted's sleeping form,
and after Jim gave them to her, she took a closer look at the low building.
"Hey, did some incompetent leave that hangar door open? I thought it was SOP for those
doors to be locked after Eight PM."
"You're right. Hey, you have the binox, so can you tell me if someone's moving something
about there? Why don't we activate the floodlights there?"
"Good idea. The switch is over by the fire alarm."
Jim nodded, and walked over to the mercury-vapour halogen lamp switch, where he then
flipped all the switches over to the 'on' position. The entire airport was bathed in intense bluish-white
light, and both people could clearly see that the hangar door had actually been ripped off its sliding
track, and that something was moving out there.
"My god! What the hell happened there? It looks like something's moving around there, but
I can't... figure... OH SHIT!!!"
Melissa dropped to the floor as something dropped onto the walkway outside the tower,
landing with a dull clang as the heavy-gauge steel grid dented under the form's feet. Jim scrambled
for the AK-74 that was always in the tower as insurance against a hijacking attempt, and as he cocked
the heavy assault rifle, the thing outside slammed its hands against the bulletproof glass window. Jim
stood up as the glass buckled inwards, spraying shards around the small room.
"Holy shit! Melissa, hit the fucking button! It's right beside you!" Jim shouted loudly as the
window finished its slow collapse, and watched, seemingly frozen in time as Ted was the first to die.
The unknown assailant, seemingly loath to squeeze through the shattered remains of the window,
reached into the room with an impossibly long arm and simply wrapped itself around Ted's throat.
Ted woke up almost instantly, totally at odds with his imitation of a chainsaw during the destruction
of the window.
His rise to action did nothing to save him, however as the long limb twisted his head about
so viciously that it shredded the tendons and bones in his neck, leaving his head to flop loosely about
on a tag of skin as the sudden increase in torsion literally yanked his head off its moorings. Ted's
body spasmed loosely for a few seconds, blood squirting liberally from the severed carotids, which
bathed Melissa in steaming gore as the body collapsed into a pool of the viscous fluid.
Melissa just sat there, huddled underneath a desk, repeatedly jabbing the silent alarm button
beside her. Her eyes were fixed on the blank gaze of her lover's eyes as they glazed over, but when
they were obscured by a large black shape falling between them, she looked up at the hulking form
wearing a black suit that seemed to shift slightly as she watched. At the same time, Jim opened fire
with his gun, spraying bullets everywhere.
Melissa watched, frozen, as at least six of the 7.62 mm slugs slapped into the figure's chest
and mid-section, but Jim had fired wildly and she dimly felt four bullets slam into her own chest,
twisting her body around before she fell completely to the ground. As her vision faded, Melissa
watched as the figure stood up from its half-crouch, and, taking three strides to Jim while easily
taking another dozen shots in its chest, raised its left arm.
The last thing Melissa saw before the world turned black was a quick blur that ended with
Jim's chest making a noise like someone had just punched a hole through gristle with a wooden post.
Twenty Minutes Later
The four police cars had been joined by an unmarked jeep and three ambulances, two of which
were just pulling away, with their flashers turned off. The huge man leaning against the jeep had rarely
seen things that could disgust him, with the worst example being the remains of three young girls that
had been viciously murdered by a child molester only weeks after he had become a police officer at
the first precinct. Enrique frowned, folding his massive arms over his chest.
"So, you're telling me that forensics has already given the place a once-over and said that it's
a crime of passion? That's a bag of bullshit and you know it. Why don't you tell me what actually
happened in there?"
"Look, you're only a detective, but you're the best on the force so that's why you're getting
this case in the first place. Now, in actuality, the two men were brutally murdered, one had his head
almost totally twisted off, and the other had what could best be described as a spike slammed through
his chest. You saw that one. He looked like someone had turned his torso inside out."
"Yeah. Can I take a look at the murder scene?"
"Fine, go ahead. Just don't blame me when the forensics team jumps down your throat."
"Thanks Cap. I owe you a coffee."
Enrique saluted his captain, who had transferred into his precinct less than a year ago, then
walked up the rickety stairway to the control tower. Once there, he looked through one of the grimy
windows at the lurid splashes of blood, with the two largest stains being near one of the swivel chairs
and against the wall near where a smashed AK-74 had been found. That piece of evidence worried
Enrique more than the brutal deaths of the air traffic controllers, mainly because it told him that
something like CyberSix probably had a hand in the hideous mayhem.
He walked into the room, and instantly regretted the move due to the increased temperature
in there, making the place smell like a piece of beef hung on a tree for a few weeks. *Gah! How the
hell could something happen like this? Wait a sec, what happened over at the chopper hangar?*
Enrique walked over to one of the cops that was taking pictures of the bloodstains, and tapped the
person on the shoulder.
"Hey, c'mere you. Now, has anyone investigated that wrecked hangar? Those doors look like
they've been pulled off their tracks by something."
"Wow. I didn't see that. I'll get some friends over there to clear the area."
"Good. Now, I'm supposed to be investigating this case, and this definitely doesn't look like
any crime of passion, unless one of the people was a tentacled blob from outer space. Report to me,
and me only."
"Yes Detective. Now, if you could excuse me, we need some more light on this stain, and
you're in the way."
"Very funny. Turn on your camera's flash."
"Oh."
"I'll see you around."
Enrique patted the cop on the shoulder, then walked back to ground level before leaning
against the concrete wall. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. After his brief
respite, he walked back to his jeep and drove to the first precinct, where his first job was to put on
a pot of immensely strong coffee, just so he could get up to speed.
Shipping Warehouse #27, 7:52 AM
The twenty-one men were clustered around a trestle table, all looking at identical copies of
a dossier that only two had seen before.
"This is our target. Selina Del Naryen, better known as either the Knife, or the Ghost's
Knife."
The person's proclamation was instantly followed by a cluster of swearing, but the language
was damped by a sharp glare.
"We have reason to believe that she is heavily armed, and has had extensive use in the original
version of the armour you have been supplied with. However, we have the carrier frequency that'll
shut down her armour's offensive programs, and that will definitely even the playing field to our
advantage."
"Sir? What do you mean 'level the playing field'? She's only one person."
"Yes, with more combat experience that you've ever had, and the ability to heal from grievous
injuries in less than two days. I personally saw her recover from having a scoop taken out of her side
by a great white shark in just under four days. I doubt that any one of you could do that."
"What the fuck!? I don't believe that."
"Fine, don't. Look at the fourth picture again. See the scars in an arc along her stomach?
Those were caused by the shark's teeth. Apparently, she wears a pendant made up of one of those
teeth, but I warn you again: she's more dangerous than any five of you combined."
The oldest person there, a heavyset man with a badly reset nose nodded severely. "Damn right
she's dangerous. Several years ago, she broke off of an extended mission in Africa, and broke my
beak at the same time. At the time, she only knew how to properly control two-thirds of her armour's
functions, but I'm more concerned about her card weapons."
"Men, please turn to the fourth page in the portfolio. Once there, you'll notice that our subject
has a pair of .50 cal magnums as her weapons of choice, but knowing that our armour is immune to
that level of ammo, she'll probably be forced to resort to her chemical explosives. Now, due to the
fact that we've had no contact with her until now, she probably has some undocumented weapons
with her, and they may be powerful enough to punch through our stuff."
"Like what? The only thing that could hurt us in this is an Avenger Gatling gun from an A-
10." The other men chuckled slightly at the joke, but both senior men frowned.
"Hah. You wish. Your armour is tough, but not that tough. If you get hit by a 30 mm slug,
you're not gonna get up unless it hits your hand. Finally, never, repeat, never get into close combat
with her. She could give someone like King Arthur lessons on how to use an edged weapon, and
she's a vicious knife-fighter as well. Even though the armour will stop something from punching
through, it's less effective against a slashing attack."
"Gee, you're making her sound like the be-all and end-all of this squad."
"That could happen. We also have knowledge that she has close contact with Dr. Anthony
Zacharias, and we have a second mission: Capture or kill him as soon as possible."
"Well, you just chucked a wrench into the works, boss. So, why don't you tell us why we
should trust these gauss pistols? The rifle took off my XO's head when it misfired."
"Sorry about that, but we've made sure that those little buggers won't screw up anything
except what you're shooting at. For example, let's say that the crate over there is a hostile. Watch
this."
The man pulled his own gauss pistol and aimed it at the crate. As he squeezed the trigger, the
pistol made a noise like a miniature thunderclap, and the crate, instead of having a hole punched
through it, was sent, in long splinters, into the far wall, leaving the sheet metal pin-cushioned by the
remnants of the container.
"Now, if that was a person, he or she would have a hole in them almost identical in size to that
produced by an 88 shell. This is caused by the fact that each slug is moving at Mach 12, and produces
a localized plasma explosion at the impact point because of the properties of energy."
"Right. Say that in terms that a person can understand, instead of spouting off more scientific
gobbledygook. Actually, we have something to ask you now: What the hell were you doing at the
airport at 2 AM?"
"Classified."
"Bull shit. You saw the keg of beer we had put in the chopper, and wanted to bring it along.
Now, we have a good thirty-six hours before we have free reign of this city, so get some rest, but in
rotating shifts. I don't want any punks finding us before the mission starts."
"Yeah, whatever. Wake me up in twelve hours."
"Wrong kiddo. Due to your insubordination, you get first watch. See you in eight hours."
The squad dispersed, taking their copies of the dossiers with them. Left standing by the table
was the young man, and despite his anger at being ordered to take first watch, he knew he had some
time to re-memorize the information in the dossier. *When I find you Selina, I'm gonna make sure
that there'll be nothing even remotely recognisable to human when the boss gets you. But first, we'll
remember the old times...*
Dr. Zack's house, 8:39 AM
Dr. Zack had awakened at Seven in the morning, and after his usual morning ablutions and
breakfast, he went downstairs into his lab. The first thing he did was check the prototype sustenance
generation unit that had sprawled out onto three worktables. When he finished making sure that the
notoriously temperamental machine was still in working order, Dr. Zack then whooped in joy when
he noticed that the distillation chamber was almost full of the familiar glowing green liquid, instead
of the botched batches of various shades, ranging from almost black to neon yellow.
*All right! If the rest of the day turns out like this, then everyone who relies on this will be
ecstatic.* Zack put a mental damper on his enthusiasm however when he thought of his neighbour.
*Damn. This won't do much to help Sara. I wonder if the research I've done can change the upgrade
program. Maybe then she won't have to avoid everything with an EM signature.* Dr. Zack walked
around the unwieldy machine, and booted up his computer.
As the system finished starting up, he quickly booted up an oft-used program which produced
a 3-D image of one of his custom designs for nanomachinery. *This could be useful, especially
because it has the program transferral interface already installed. Let's see... all I have to do is supply
the right algorithm to make the next upgrade produce EM shielding instead of everything else. Heh.
This program might be more difficult than I thought, so I guess I'll have to get some professional
help. Hmm... Erin knows a lot about programming, but I don't think she has much experience with
the size constraints imposed on nano-programming.
*What the heck, she'll probably produce something that's half the size of what I could do, and
most likely in less time as well. Well, I'd better call her soon, and she'd better like the idea of raiding
my cupboards again.* Dr. Zack smiled at the mental image of Erin being forced to wake up to the
insistent ringing of her phone, then took actions to thoughts and dialled her number. The phone rang
at least six times before Erin answered.
"Mrrrghhh..."
"Hello Erin. How are you this fine morning?"
"Mrrrghhh... What the hell are you doing, calling me at such an ungodly hour?"
"Waking you up for tomorrow. After all, you do have to suffer through my class first, so I
want to insure that the school intern survives the first hour and a half."
"Gee thanks. Cut to the chase before I cut the line."
"Fine. I would like you over here so I can mooch off of your programming expertise. And
because I've always believed in a fair trade, you can go after the junk food supplies I always have
floating about in the kitchen."
"Free food? All right, I'm in. Let me get myself in order, and I'll be over in about twenty
minutes. Hey, waitamin... Zack, are you watching TV? There's a news report going on about some
rather grisly murders at the airport. Apparently, one person had his head ripped off, another had a
hole punched through him, and the last person had been shot at close range with an assault rifle.
Messy."
"Thanks for the synopsis. I'll catch it on the news at noon. Maybe we'll get lucky and have
finished this bit as well."
"Okay. See ya soon. Ciao!"
Dr. Zack hung up, then started whistling a tune he remembered from his childhood as he went
back upstairs to wait for the cybernetically enhanced teen. Just as he got to his living room on the way
to the kitchen, his eyes fell on the folder Reba had given him last night. *Maybe I should take a look
at this. After all, it might have some interesting tidbits in it.* He flipped the folder to the most recent
entry and stopped dead in his tracks. Rereading the short passage, Dr. Zack felt something he
couldn't describe fall over him.
*My god. Sara's debility is not just caused by her disease running rampant, but something
worse. This is just horrendous.* Dr. Zack mentally tried to figure out all the ramifications, but ended
up with the only one that made any sense. *I'm sorry to even think this Sara, but no matter what
happens, you'll be dead in less than two months. The internal damage done to you by the unknown
sources over the last six months has allowed deadly levels of natural toxins to accumulate and your
body is too weak to compensate. Also, your nanotech is barely keeping up to your disease, so they
don't have enough time to deal with the other toxins.*
At that moment, the doorbell rang and Erin bounded into Dr. Zack's house, looking like the
cat had just eaten the canary. She instantly got into the cupboard loaded with junk food, and soon
appeared in front of the good doctor, arms loaded with bags of chips and holding a bottle of pop by
her teeth. "Well, it seems you're going to rot your teeth out of your head by the time you're twenty-
five. How are you doing Erin?"
"PrtygdZck. Hreyu?"
"Huh? Here, lemme hold that." Dr. Zack collected the bottle of pop from Erin so she could
speak coherently, and she repeated her last statement.
"Pretty good Doc. And no, my teeth won't rot that badly. After all, I haven't suffered from
any zit swarms, even after invading your pantries. So, why'd you get me out of bed so early, other
than to clear out the backlog of junk food?"
"Well, I want you to help me with some extremely advanced programming, and if we can pull
it off, your favourite teacher will actually look human again."
"Really. Pass the Salt and Vinegar chips while I think about this." Erin emptied the jumbo-
sized bag of chips in just under three minutes, allowing Dr. Zack to wonder how her metabolism
could deal with such an influx of toxins.
"Hmm, well if Sara returns to looking like she's alive, and gets her sense of humour back, I'm
all for it. After all, class has been getting kinda dull ever since Sara filled Lucas' coat pockets with
KY jelly."
"She was the one who did that? I heard him howling like one of those damned monkeys in the
jungle, and thought that he had run out of luck and blown his foot off with one of those chemical
mixes he created in the lab."
"No such luck. Sara's masterminded all the torture Lucas has gone through for the last six
months. Well, let's take a look at the program you want to play with." Erin ran into the basement,
heedless of the risk she was taking, and leaving a path of potato chips behind her.
Dr. Zack sighed slightly and followed Erin, picking up the larger chips on the way into the
basement.
Sara's House, 10:53 AM
Sara woke up, and instead of moving around, she stared at the ceiling where she had tried to
paint a small mural of one of her childhood enjoyments. The paint hadn't worked very well, and it had
smeared fairly badly, but by concentrating on the painting, she could see what her intention had been:
a winding path between several trees with two figures on it.
Eventually she decided to get up, and walked downstairs, scratching the back of her neck. She
didn't even think about trying to change her nightclothes to her more casual clothes, but still checked
that the purple belt she now wore constantly was nestled snugly around her waist. *That's a good
piece of armour. I really should check the news, but I have a good hour to wait. Maybe I should look
at the folder Reba gave me yesterday.*
Sara groaned slightly as she walked over to the small table where she had tossed the folder
last night, and slowly rotated her shoulders as she flipped to the first page of non-medical
gobbledegook. *What the hell?!? This thing says that my little friends, despite being on the defensive,
have mutated slightly, and are beginning to attack my vital organs. Also, there seems to be an
extremely large amount of natural toxins floating about in my bloodstream, but that doesn't make any
sense.
*My nanomachines should automatically purge those toxins, but wait a sec... Dammit! I
forgot! The primary program is to repair the damage done to me by the disease, so the nanomachines
are focussing on that instead of the toxic soup that my brain's currently living on. No wonder my
mind's feeling fuzzy.* Sara swore quietly, then walked over to her laptop. Turning on the small
computer, she logged onto the net and activated a small program that instantly opened up a webpage
that was virtually unchanged from almost six years ago.
Sara selected the login system, and typed in 'SelinaSpecOps001@GenCore.com' And tapped
in the password that she still remembered. 'Alpha1/Omega0' As the system connected to the secretive
part of the company's site, Sara knew she was literally sending out an electronic beacon the size of
the CN tower. She let the site upload totally, then dug into a database file system labelled 'Specialty
Equipment, Level 7 clearance required.'
Sara managed to cut through the security clearance, and found several files that instantly sent
alarms jangling inside her head. *Lemme see, Gauss Weapon Mass Production? Okay, that's insanely
scary. I'm gonna grab all the files about that subject. What else is there? Well, Tony'd find this
interesting... Hello, what's this? Reactive Armour research notes, schematics, and miscellaneous
information? This will help both of us. That's another bit to collect.*
Sara downloaded all the files that she had mentally flagged, and stashed them in a folder which
she then sealed with a basic encryption program. Sara went back to the online files, and dug around
for a little while longer. She soon found something which was downloaded without question for later
perusal, but the site suddenly died on her. "What the fuck? This is screwy. I bet someone pressed a
panic button."
Sara opened her E-mail system, and thanked the foresight of gathering Tony's 'net address
from him a few weeks ago. Sara sent him the information on the Gauss Weapons, the armour, and
the file she had found on the original nanotech that was swarming through her bloodstream. After the
files had been sent, Sara turned off her laptop, went upstairs, and got dressed so she could go outside
and get some air.
By the time she had gotten dressed for the day, it was almost noon, so she instantly walked
into the park, where in just under ten minutes, she had acquired a glass of iced tea and was quietly
sipping at the frosted drink as she watched several children playing with a frisbee nearby. Occasionally
distracted by the joyful cries and playful antics of the kids, Sara let her thoughts roam freely for the
first time in almost a year, and she remembered almost everything good that had happened to her
since she had moved to Meridiana.
However, Sara was interrupted by a rather familiar voice, followed by the clear tones of a
teenager's laughter. Looking up, she saw Tony walking down one of the park's paths towards the
bench where she was sitting. And right beside the good doctor was Sara's headache of the week: Erin
Cheng. Waiting for the two to get closer, Sara silently raised an eyebrow as a third person joined the
small group. Sara's other eyebrow joined the first in an attempt to hide in her hairline when she
recognised the third person as CyberSix.
*Okay then. It seems that either my friends are going to pull a prank on me, or they have even
more bad news.* Sara finished off her drink, then stood up and dusted off her jeans. She then walked
over to the group, and, feeling slightly cheerful, she quietly placed her hands on Erin's shoulders.
"Boo. Before you gut me Erin, notice the fact that we're surrounded by onlookers, and the
prison won't cater to your needs." Erin nearly jumped out of her skin at Sara's grinning
announcement, and spun to face her.
"Hiii Sara. We were just talking about you."
"I noticed. So, how are you three doing?"
"Well Zack and I have been up since about Eight in the morning, doing... something."
"Really Erin, I'm surprised at you. Why don't you give Tony his carving knife back?"
"Hey! Erin, how many times have I told you to not take my knives? It's getting to the point
where I have to go to the antique stores to replenish my silverware after you've visited."
"Erin, you're a headache beyond belief."
"Thanks for that endorsement. Here's your knife Zack." Erin passed over the 8" long knife,
then walked off, waving at the group. "Well, I'm going for a burger and some fries. I'll see ya later."
"Kids." All three of the adults said the same thing simultaneously, glanced at each other for
a few seconds, and collapsed into gales of laughter. All three soon calmed down, mirth still sparkling
in their eyes.
"That's why I'm never going to have children." Sara gasped out as she leaned against a tree.
"Really. I'm not telling what my plans are in the future."
"Well, considering your plans with Lucas, they may be interesting."
"HEY! I don't pry into your personal life, so why do you pry into mine?"
"Cyb, you haven't pried into my personal life because I don't have one. Anyhow, I sent you
an E-mail, Tony. You'll find it... umm... interesting."
"Okay. Look, why don't we have some lunch? You're probably skin and bones underneath
that coat you always wear, and I have only had a bag of chips since Eight-Thirty."
"All right. C'mon, my treat." The three friends walked towards the Cafe where Erin had
walked to, occasionally bouncing jokes off of each other.
Jose's Mansion, 4:57 PM
"Well, your arm is back in working order, but I don't recommend you going after someone
who could do that to you." The techno in charge of the infirmary finished cutting away the plaster
cast surrounding M-17's arm, and inspected the two scars where the bones had broken the skin.
"Sorry, but I'm going to kill that bitch if it's the last thing I do."
"Your funeral. If you need anything, I'll patch you together." M-17 shrugged, then walked
out of the small room after putting her shirt back on. *That fucking bitch was lucky. She managed
to knock me down, and I broke my arm on the way down. She just added insult to injury by pushing
the bones through my skin when she jumped onto my arm.*
The vindictive girl kicked one of the ornamental statuettes off of its pedestal, and while the
small object was tumbling in midair, she sent it flying down the hallway with a second one. The result
was a pained shout as the shaped stone bounced off the back of Jose's head, sending him sprawling
onto the carpet.
"OW!!! Who the bloody hell threw that at me?" M-17 ducked into a conveniently open room
as Jose stormed past, looking like he was going to shred the next person to cross his path. M-17
waited for a few minutes, listening as the far door slammed. She then looked around the room and
just stared at the stacks of heavy weapons lining the walls.
"This is amazing. And it looks like I found your hiding place Jess." M-17 walked over to the
nearest weapon, and lifted the old and ugly rifle. *Wow! This thing looks like it can fire twenty
rounds from one magazine, and the baby scope will give it better accuracy. Still I wonder what it is.*
She guessed that the rifle weighed almost twenty pounds, and decided that she'd try it out in the firing
range.
"So, you like playing with something that I've been restoring since I came out of the tank?"
"Hi Jess. This is an amazing piece of work. What is it?" Jess sighed as she walked over to a
small desk, buried in pistol parts and bullet casings.
"Cute. It's a BAR that was captured from a Canadian military unit near the end of the Second
War."
"BAR?"
"Browning Automatic Rifle. That monster was almost as nasty as an MG42, and more
portable to boot. It could use a 20-round magazine of .45 cal bullets, or fire .50 cal slugs from a belt.
I never figured out how they created the ACT that the thing uses, but this is the only one we have that
is in full working order. Wanna try it out?"
"Damn right I do! How much ammo do you put through this thing?"
"About a hundred rounds a week of both types. I've gotten so proficient with it, I can put a
4-round burst in the ten-circle on a target at a hundred yards."
"Heh. When we go hunting for that bitch, why don't we take this baby along for support? It'll
be more accurate than those dumbassed lumps with rocket launchers."
"Fine. You can play with it, and I get to play sharpshooter. Let's see how many civvies we
can mow down in an hour."
"I'm all for it. Tomorrow. Today, I just want to get a feel for this." The two women , M-17
with the BAR and Jess with a heavily customized sniper rifle that had once been a PSG-1, went over
to the firing range in the basement, joking and occasionally taking potshots at the now-scared Fixed
Ideas.
Sara's House, 6:42 PM
Sara looked through the file on her computer, and rubbed her eyes with her right hand.
Sighing slightly, she scrolled up to the top of the document and reread it for the sixth time in a row.
*Damn. Gauss pistols and rifles have some interesting properties, and I definitely don't want to be
on the receiving end of one. Now, the fact that they produce EM fields strong enough to interfere
with my internals is bad enough, but getting hit by a spike moving at Mach 12 would definitely put
a crimp in my lifestyle.*
Sara groaned slightly, then closed that file. "Remind me to never, ever try to escape from
these assholes again."
"How's that Sara? I thought you like being free."
"Erin, how many times do I have to tell you to knock before entering? Come here and take
a look at this." Erin walked over to Sara, and she noticed that her friend was dressed in her fighting
clothes. Sara reopened the file on the gauss weapons schematics, and scrolled down to the first
diagram.
"Wow. That is complex and nasty. What's the top speed for the slugs?"
"Mach 12. I'm not sure, but that could punch through about three feet of battleship plate
without slowing down too much. Either that or the material will flash-heat into a concentrated plasma
bolt which would be much worse."
"Plasma bolts? Never heard of those."
"They are extremely theoretical. I talked to an old classmate of mine who was working on the
idea of magnetic levitation for trains, and a Gauss weapon uses the same basic principle as one of
those trains. A plasma bolt occurs when something like an iron spike accelerates past normal
thresholds, allowing air friction to vaporize the metal. Whatever's left when it hits something would
be heated to about thirty thousand degrees at the impact point.
"The heat would cause the natural moisture in the substance to expand, and literally blast a
hole the size of my chest through whatever was hit."
"Gross. So, if someone like Six got hit, she'd be dead or seriously wounded in one shot?"
"Dunno. Hopefully, I'd never find out as well. So, what brings you to my not-so humble
abode?"
"Other than being shown something that'd give most sane people nightmares, nothing much.
I wanted to see whether or not you're still in one piece. You did watch that piece over the news about
the murders at the airport?"
"Yeah. I know that style of attack. The attacker used Advanced Combat Armour. And that
stuff is, as far as I'm concerned, the stuff you want for self-defence or offense."
"Where's yours then?"
"Around my waist, as always. Why don't you go hunting for a while? I'll be stuck on this for
a few more hours before I can play ambusher."
"Dammit. Well, do you have any pop in the fridge?"
"Yeah. I still have that bottle of whiskey that I used to disinfect my wounds in there as well."
"I won't even think about touching that one. I'll see you around." Erin walked into the
kitchen, liberated the full bottle of pop from its confines, and walked out onto the back porch before
jumping west into the park.
Shipping Warehouse #27 7:27 PM
"Hey! Everyone UP! NOW!!!" The commander of the Spec-ops team yelled loudly enough
to rattle some of the looser windows, and had instant results. The entire team appeared in front of
him in less than thirty seconds, with the exception of the addition.
"Now, listen up girls! Playtime is officially over. We are going to split up into two groups.
Wilson, you're going to take nine grunts with you and try to apprehend Dr. Zacharias. He lives on
the east side of the park, and his place is nicknamed the Southern Fort Knox. We have no, repeat, NO
information on the defences he has, and apparently he has close contact with the primary."
"Yes sir. I'll take the backups because you have the worst part ahead of you sir."
"Damn right I do. Now, the rest of us will have to go through reconnaissance on the subject's
known haunts: The local high school, a Cafe near there, and the large park near Dr. Zacharias' house.
Good luck. We move out at midnight. Until then, split up into teams of two. Keep your eyes open,
and clean your weapons. Now, we want our targets alive, so dial down the speed on the Gauss pistols
to Mach 8. That will allow us to cripple a person without amputating their limbs."
A chorus of 'Yes Sir' was fired back at the commander, and the troops scattered to where
they had put their equipment, leaving the commander, his XO, and the boss' lackey.
"Well, they won't die quickly."
"That's for sure, sir. I hope that they actually learned something about their newer
equipment."
"Well, I always emphasise the physical over the technological. After all, if your gun fails, you
will need to use your bare hands against your opponent."
"True. Let's get ready."
"Yeah. By the way, you're with me. The boss wants to make sure you come home with all
your extremities intact."
Meridiana Airport
The night shift had just hit its 'dead time' at the airport, and the three traffic controllers were
bored out of their skulls. One had already fallen asleep, leaning back in his swivel chair with his feet
propped up on the radar screen. The other two were tired looking at the darkened hangars where the
surplus military helicopters were in storage, throwing pieces of paper at the heavy window.
"So, what're you going to do when the shift's over?"
"Dunno, Jim. Maybe I'll wake Ted up and jump his bones until Eight."
"Cute Melissa. Why don't you keep your sex life to yourself? Hey, what's that out there?"
"Very funny Jim. Last time you tried that, it ended up with me having a sore neck for a week."
Melissa looked out the window anyhow, and frowned as she saw something move near one
of the closer hangars. She gestured for the extra-large binoculars that were near Ted's sleeping form,
and after Jim gave them to her, she took a closer look at the low building.
"Hey, did some incompetent leave that hangar door open? I thought it was SOP for those
doors to be locked after Eight PM."
"You're right. Hey, you have the binox, so can you tell me if someone's moving something
about there? Why don't we activate the floodlights there?"
"Good idea. The switch is over by the fire alarm."
Jim nodded, and walked over to the mercury-vapour halogen lamp switch, where he then
flipped all the switches over to the 'on' position. The entire airport was bathed in intense bluish-white
light, and both people could clearly see that the hangar door had actually been ripped off its sliding
track, and that something was moving out there.
"My god! What the hell happened there? It looks like something's moving around there, but
I can't... figure... OH SHIT!!!"
Melissa dropped to the floor as something dropped onto the walkway outside the tower,
landing with a dull clang as the heavy-gauge steel grid dented under the form's feet. Jim scrambled
for the AK-74 that was always in the tower as insurance against a hijacking attempt, and as he cocked
the heavy assault rifle, the thing outside slammed its hands against the bulletproof glass window. Jim
stood up as the glass buckled inwards, spraying shards around the small room.
"Holy shit! Melissa, hit the fucking button! It's right beside you!" Jim shouted loudly as the
window finished its slow collapse, and watched, seemingly frozen in time as Ted was the first to die.
The unknown assailant, seemingly loath to squeeze through the shattered remains of the window,
reached into the room with an impossibly long arm and simply wrapped itself around Ted's throat.
Ted woke up almost instantly, totally at odds with his imitation of a chainsaw during the destruction
of the window.
His rise to action did nothing to save him, however as the long limb twisted his head about
so viciously that it shredded the tendons and bones in his neck, leaving his head to flop loosely about
on a tag of skin as the sudden increase in torsion literally yanked his head off its moorings. Ted's
body spasmed loosely for a few seconds, blood squirting liberally from the severed carotids, which
bathed Melissa in steaming gore as the body collapsed into a pool of the viscous fluid.
Melissa just sat there, huddled underneath a desk, repeatedly jabbing the silent alarm button
beside her. Her eyes were fixed on the blank gaze of her lover's eyes as they glazed over, but when
they were obscured by a large black shape falling between them, she looked up at the hulking form
wearing a black suit that seemed to shift slightly as she watched. At the same time, Jim opened fire
with his gun, spraying bullets everywhere.
Melissa watched, frozen, as at least six of the 7.62 mm slugs slapped into the figure's chest
and mid-section, but Jim had fired wildly and she dimly felt four bullets slam into her own chest,
twisting her body around before she fell completely to the ground. As her vision faded, Melissa
watched as the figure stood up from its half-crouch, and, taking three strides to Jim while easily
taking another dozen shots in its chest, raised its left arm.
The last thing Melissa saw before the world turned black was a quick blur that ended with
Jim's chest making a noise like someone had just punched a hole through gristle with a wooden post.
Twenty Minutes Later
The four police cars had been joined by an unmarked jeep and three ambulances, two of which
were just pulling away, with their flashers turned off. The huge man leaning against the jeep had rarely
seen things that could disgust him, with the worst example being the remains of three young girls that
had been viciously murdered by a child molester only weeks after he had become a police officer at
the first precinct. Enrique frowned, folding his massive arms over his chest.
"So, you're telling me that forensics has already given the place a once-over and said that it's
a crime of passion? That's a bag of bullshit and you know it. Why don't you tell me what actually
happened in there?"
"Look, you're only a detective, but you're the best on the force so that's why you're getting
this case in the first place. Now, in actuality, the two men were brutally murdered, one had his head
almost totally twisted off, and the other had what could best be described as a spike slammed through
his chest. You saw that one. He looked like someone had turned his torso inside out."
"Yeah. Can I take a look at the murder scene?"
"Fine, go ahead. Just don't blame me when the forensics team jumps down your throat."
"Thanks Cap. I owe you a coffee."
Enrique saluted his captain, who had transferred into his precinct less than a year ago, then
walked up the rickety stairway to the control tower. Once there, he looked through one of the grimy
windows at the lurid splashes of blood, with the two largest stains being near one of the swivel chairs
and against the wall near where a smashed AK-74 had been found. That piece of evidence worried
Enrique more than the brutal deaths of the air traffic controllers, mainly because it told him that
something like CyberSix probably had a hand in the hideous mayhem.
He walked into the room, and instantly regretted the move due to the increased temperature
in there, making the place smell like a piece of beef hung on a tree for a few weeks. *Gah! How the
hell could something happen like this? Wait a sec, what happened over at the chopper hangar?*
Enrique walked over to one of the cops that was taking pictures of the bloodstains, and tapped the
person on the shoulder.
"Hey, c'mere you. Now, has anyone investigated that wrecked hangar? Those doors look like
they've been pulled off their tracks by something."
"Wow. I didn't see that. I'll get some friends over there to clear the area."
"Good. Now, I'm supposed to be investigating this case, and this definitely doesn't look like
any crime of passion, unless one of the people was a tentacled blob from outer space. Report to me,
and me only."
"Yes Detective. Now, if you could excuse me, we need some more light on this stain, and
you're in the way."
"Very funny. Turn on your camera's flash."
"Oh."
"I'll see you around."
Enrique patted the cop on the shoulder, then walked back to ground level before leaning
against the concrete wall. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. After his brief
respite, he walked back to his jeep and drove to the first precinct, where his first job was to put on
a pot of immensely strong coffee, just so he could get up to speed.
Shipping Warehouse #27, 7:52 AM
The twenty-one men were clustered around a trestle table, all looking at identical copies of
a dossier that only two had seen before.
"This is our target. Selina Del Naryen, better known as either the Knife, or the Ghost's
Knife."
The person's proclamation was instantly followed by a cluster of swearing, but the language
was damped by a sharp glare.
"We have reason to believe that she is heavily armed, and has had extensive use in the original
version of the armour you have been supplied with. However, we have the carrier frequency that'll
shut down her armour's offensive programs, and that will definitely even the playing field to our
advantage."
"Sir? What do you mean 'level the playing field'? She's only one person."
"Yes, with more combat experience that you've ever had, and the ability to heal from grievous
injuries in less than two days. I personally saw her recover from having a scoop taken out of her side
by a great white shark in just under four days. I doubt that any one of you could do that."
"What the fuck!? I don't believe that."
"Fine, don't. Look at the fourth picture again. See the scars in an arc along her stomach?
Those were caused by the shark's teeth. Apparently, she wears a pendant made up of one of those
teeth, but I warn you again: she's more dangerous than any five of you combined."
The oldest person there, a heavyset man with a badly reset nose nodded severely. "Damn right
she's dangerous. Several years ago, she broke off of an extended mission in Africa, and broke my
beak at the same time. At the time, she only knew how to properly control two-thirds of her armour's
functions, but I'm more concerned about her card weapons."
"Men, please turn to the fourth page in the portfolio. Once there, you'll notice that our subject
has a pair of .50 cal magnums as her weapons of choice, but knowing that our armour is immune to
that level of ammo, she'll probably be forced to resort to her chemical explosives. Now, due to the
fact that we've had no contact with her until now, she probably has some undocumented weapons
with her, and they may be powerful enough to punch through our stuff."
"Like what? The only thing that could hurt us in this is an Avenger Gatling gun from an A-
10." The other men chuckled slightly at the joke, but both senior men frowned.
"Hah. You wish. Your armour is tough, but not that tough. If you get hit by a 30 mm slug,
you're not gonna get up unless it hits your hand. Finally, never, repeat, never get into close combat
with her. She could give someone like King Arthur lessons on how to use an edged weapon, and
she's a vicious knife-fighter as well. Even though the armour will stop something from punching
through, it's less effective against a slashing attack."
"Gee, you're making her sound like the be-all and end-all of this squad."
"That could happen. We also have knowledge that she has close contact with Dr. Anthony
Zacharias, and we have a second mission: Capture or kill him as soon as possible."
"Well, you just chucked a wrench into the works, boss. So, why don't you tell us why we
should trust these gauss pistols? The rifle took off my XO's head when it misfired."
"Sorry about that, but we've made sure that those little buggers won't screw up anything
except what you're shooting at. For example, let's say that the crate over there is a hostile. Watch
this."
The man pulled his own gauss pistol and aimed it at the crate. As he squeezed the trigger, the
pistol made a noise like a miniature thunderclap, and the crate, instead of having a hole punched
through it, was sent, in long splinters, into the far wall, leaving the sheet metal pin-cushioned by the
remnants of the container.
"Now, if that was a person, he or she would have a hole in them almost identical in size to that
produced by an 88 shell. This is caused by the fact that each slug is moving at Mach 12, and produces
a localized plasma explosion at the impact point because of the properties of energy."
"Right. Say that in terms that a person can understand, instead of spouting off more scientific
gobbledygook. Actually, we have something to ask you now: What the hell were you doing at the
airport at 2 AM?"
"Classified."
"Bull shit. You saw the keg of beer we had put in the chopper, and wanted to bring it along.
Now, we have a good thirty-six hours before we have free reign of this city, so get some rest, but in
rotating shifts. I don't want any punks finding us before the mission starts."
"Yeah, whatever. Wake me up in twelve hours."
"Wrong kiddo. Due to your insubordination, you get first watch. See you in eight hours."
The squad dispersed, taking their copies of the dossiers with them. Left standing by the table
was the young man, and despite his anger at being ordered to take first watch, he knew he had some
time to re-memorize the information in the dossier. *When I find you Selina, I'm gonna make sure
that there'll be nothing even remotely recognisable to human when the boss gets you. But first, we'll
remember the old times...*
Dr. Zack's house, 8:39 AM
Dr. Zack had awakened at Seven in the morning, and after his usual morning ablutions and
breakfast, he went downstairs into his lab. The first thing he did was check the prototype sustenance
generation unit that had sprawled out onto three worktables. When he finished making sure that the
notoriously temperamental machine was still in working order, Dr. Zack then whooped in joy when
he noticed that the distillation chamber was almost full of the familiar glowing green liquid, instead
of the botched batches of various shades, ranging from almost black to neon yellow.
*All right! If the rest of the day turns out like this, then everyone who relies on this will be
ecstatic.* Zack put a mental damper on his enthusiasm however when he thought of his neighbour.
*Damn. This won't do much to help Sara. I wonder if the research I've done can change the upgrade
program. Maybe then she won't have to avoid everything with an EM signature.* Dr. Zack walked
around the unwieldy machine, and booted up his computer.
As the system finished starting up, he quickly booted up an oft-used program which produced
a 3-D image of one of his custom designs for nanomachinery. *This could be useful, especially
because it has the program transferral interface already installed. Let's see... all I have to do is supply
the right algorithm to make the next upgrade produce EM shielding instead of everything else. Heh.
This program might be more difficult than I thought, so I guess I'll have to get some professional
help. Hmm... Erin knows a lot about programming, but I don't think she has much experience with
the size constraints imposed on nano-programming.
*What the heck, she'll probably produce something that's half the size of what I could do, and
most likely in less time as well. Well, I'd better call her soon, and she'd better like the idea of raiding
my cupboards again.* Dr. Zack smiled at the mental image of Erin being forced to wake up to the
insistent ringing of her phone, then took actions to thoughts and dialled her number. The phone rang
at least six times before Erin answered.
"Mrrrghhh..."
"Hello Erin. How are you this fine morning?"
"Mrrrghhh... What the hell are you doing, calling me at such an ungodly hour?"
"Waking you up for tomorrow. After all, you do have to suffer through my class first, so I
want to insure that the school intern survives the first hour and a half."
"Gee thanks. Cut to the chase before I cut the line."
"Fine. I would like you over here so I can mooch off of your programming expertise. And
because I've always believed in a fair trade, you can go after the junk food supplies I always have
floating about in the kitchen."
"Free food? All right, I'm in. Let me get myself in order, and I'll be over in about twenty
minutes. Hey, waitamin... Zack, are you watching TV? There's a news report going on about some
rather grisly murders at the airport. Apparently, one person had his head ripped off, another had a
hole punched through him, and the last person had been shot at close range with an assault rifle.
Messy."
"Thanks for the synopsis. I'll catch it on the news at noon. Maybe we'll get lucky and have
finished this bit as well."
"Okay. See ya soon. Ciao!"
Dr. Zack hung up, then started whistling a tune he remembered from his childhood as he went
back upstairs to wait for the cybernetically enhanced teen. Just as he got to his living room on the way
to the kitchen, his eyes fell on the folder Reba had given him last night. *Maybe I should take a look
at this. After all, it might have some interesting tidbits in it.* He flipped the folder to the most recent
entry and stopped dead in his tracks. Rereading the short passage, Dr. Zack felt something he
couldn't describe fall over him.
*My god. Sara's debility is not just caused by her disease running rampant, but something
worse. This is just horrendous.* Dr. Zack mentally tried to figure out all the ramifications, but ended
up with the only one that made any sense. *I'm sorry to even think this Sara, but no matter what
happens, you'll be dead in less than two months. The internal damage done to you by the unknown
sources over the last six months has allowed deadly levels of natural toxins to accumulate and your
body is too weak to compensate. Also, your nanotech is barely keeping up to your disease, so they
don't have enough time to deal with the other toxins.*
At that moment, the doorbell rang and Erin bounded into Dr. Zack's house, looking like the
cat had just eaten the canary. She instantly got into the cupboard loaded with junk food, and soon
appeared in front of the good doctor, arms loaded with bags of chips and holding a bottle of pop by
her teeth. "Well, it seems you're going to rot your teeth out of your head by the time you're twenty-
five. How are you doing Erin?"
"PrtygdZck. Hreyu?"
"Huh? Here, lemme hold that." Dr. Zack collected the bottle of pop from Erin so she could
speak coherently, and she repeated her last statement.
"Pretty good Doc. And no, my teeth won't rot that badly. After all, I haven't suffered from
any zit swarms, even after invading your pantries. So, why'd you get me out of bed so early, other
than to clear out the backlog of junk food?"
"Well, I want you to help me with some extremely advanced programming, and if we can pull
it off, your favourite teacher will actually look human again."
"Really. Pass the Salt and Vinegar chips while I think about this." Erin emptied the jumbo-
sized bag of chips in just under three minutes, allowing Dr. Zack to wonder how her metabolism
could deal with such an influx of toxins.
"Hmm, well if Sara returns to looking like she's alive, and gets her sense of humour back, I'm
all for it. After all, class has been getting kinda dull ever since Sara filled Lucas' coat pockets with
KY jelly."
"She was the one who did that? I heard him howling like one of those damned monkeys in the
jungle, and thought that he had run out of luck and blown his foot off with one of those chemical
mixes he created in the lab."
"No such luck. Sara's masterminded all the torture Lucas has gone through for the last six
months. Well, let's take a look at the program you want to play with." Erin ran into the basement,
heedless of the risk she was taking, and leaving a path of potato chips behind her.
Dr. Zack sighed slightly and followed Erin, picking up the larger chips on the way into the
basement.
Sara's House, 10:53 AM
Sara woke up, and instead of moving around, she stared at the ceiling where she had tried to
paint a small mural of one of her childhood enjoyments. The paint hadn't worked very well, and it had
smeared fairly badly, but by concentrating on the painting, she could see what her intention had been:
a winding path between several trees with two figures on it.
Eventually she decided to get up, and walked downstairs, scratching the back of her neck. She
didn't even think about trying to change her nightclothes to her more casual clothes, but still checked
that the purple belt she now wore constantly was nestled snugly around her waist. *That's a good
piece of armour. I really should check the news, but I have a good hour to wait. Maybe I should look
at the folder Reba gave me yesterday.*
Sara groaned slightly as she walked over to the small table where she had tossed the folder
last night, and slowly rotated her shoulders as she flipped to the first page of non-medical
gobbledegook. *What the hell?!? This thing says that my little friends, despite being on the defensive,
have mutated slightly, and are beginning to attack my vital organs. Also, there seems to be an
extremely large amount of natural toxins floating about in my bloodstream, but that doesn't make any
sense.
*My nanomachines should automatically purge those toxins, but wait a sec... Dammit! I
forgot! The primary program is to repair the damage done to me by the disease, so the nanomachines
are focussing on that instead of the toxic soup that my brain's currently living on. No wonder my
mind's feeling fuzzy.* Sara swore quietly, then walked over to her laptop. Turning on the small
computer, she logged onto the net and activated a small program that instantly opened up a webpage
that was virtually unchanged from almost six years ago.
Sara selected the login system, and typed in 'SelinaSpecOps001@GenCore.com' And tapped
in the password that she still remembered. 'Alpha1/Omega0' As the system connected to the secretive
part of the company's site, Sara knew she was literally sending out an electronic beacon the size of
the CN tower. She let the site upload totally, then dug into a database file system labelled 'Specialty
Equipment, Level 7 clearance required.'
Sara managed to cut through the security clearance, and found several files that instantly sent
alarms jangling inside her head. *Lemme see, Gauss Weapon Mass Production? Okay, that's insanely
scary. I'm gonna grab all the files about that subject. What else is there? Well, Tony'd find this
interesting... Hello, what's this? Reactive Armour research notes, schematics, and miscellaneous
information? This will help both of us. That's another bit to collect.*
Sara downloaded all the files that she had mentally flagged, and stashed them in a folder which
she then sealed with a basic encryption program. Sara went back to the online files, and dug around
for a little while longer. She soon found something which was downloaded without question for later
perusal, but the site suddenly died on her. "What the fuck? This is screwy. I bet someone pressed a
panic button."
Sara opened her E-mail system, and thanked the foresight of gathering Tony's 'net address
from him a few weeks ago. Sara sent him the information on the Gauss Weapons, the armour, and
the file she had found on the original nanotech that was swarming through her bloodstream. After the
files had been sent, Sara turned off her laptop, went upstairs, and got dressed so she could go outside
and get some air.
By the time she had gotten dressed for the day, it was almost noon, so she instantly walked
into the park, where in just under ten minutes, she had acquired a glass of iced tea and was quietly
sipping at the frosted drink as she watched several children playing with a frisbee nearby. Occasionally
distracted by the joyful cries and playful antics of the kids, Sara let her thoughts roam freely for the
first time in almost a year, and she remembered almost everything good that had happened to her
since she had moved to Meridiana.
However, Sara was interrupted by a rather familiar voice, followed by the clear tones of a
teenager's laughter. Looking up, she saw Tony walking down one of the park's paths towards the
bench where she was sitting. And right beside the good doctor was Sara's headache of the week: Erin
Cheng. Waiting for the two to get closer, Sara silently raised an eyebrow as a third person joined the
small group. Sara's other eyebrow joined the first in an attempt to hide in her hairline when she
recognised the third person as CyberSix.
*Okay then. It seems that either my friends are going to pull a prank on me, or they have even
more bad news.* Sara finished off her drink, then stood up and dusted off her jeans. She then walked
over to the group, and, feeling slightly cheerful, she quietly placed her hands on Erin's shoulders.
"Boo. Before you gut me Erin, notice the fact that we're surrounded by onlookers, and the
prison won't cater to your needs." Erin nearly jumped out of her skin at Sara's grinning
announcement, and spun to face her.
"Hiii Sara. We were just talking about you."
"I noticed. So, how are you three doing?"
"Well Zack and I have been up since about Eight in the morning, doing... something."
"Really Erin, I'm surprised at you. Why don't you give Tony his carving knife back?"
"Hey! Erin, how many times have I told you to not take my knives? It's getting to the point
where I have to go to the antique stores to replenish my silverware after you've visited."
"Erin, you're a headache beyond belief."
"Thanks for that endorsement. Here's your knife Zack." Erin passed over the 8" long knife,
then walked off, waving at the group. "Well, I'm going for a burger and some fries. I'll see ya later."
"Kids." All three of the adults said the same thing simultaneously, glanced at each other for
a few seconds, and collapsed into gales of laughter. All three soon calmed down, mirth still sparkling
in their eyes.
"That's why I'm never going to have children." Sara gasped out as she leaned against a tree.
"Really. I'm not telling what my plans are in the future."
"Well, considering your plans with Lucas, they may be interesting."
"HEY! I don't pry into your personal life, so why do you pry into mine?"
"Cyb, you haven't pried into my personal life because I don't have one. Anyhow, I sent you
an E-mail, Tony. You'll find it... umm... interesting."
"Okay. Look, why don't we have some lunch? You're probably skin and bones underneath
that coat you always wear, and I have only had a bag of chips since Eight-Thirty."
"All right. C'mon, my treat." The three friends walked towards the Cafe where Erin had
walked to, occasionally bouncing jokes off of each other.
Jose's Mansion, 4:57 PM
"Well, your arm is back in working order, but I don't recommend you going after someone
who could do that to you." The techno in charge of the infirmary finished cutting away the plaster
cast surrounding M-17's arm, and inspected the two scars where the bones had broken the skin.
"Sorry, but I'm going to kill that bitch if it's the last thing I do."
"Your funeral. If you need anything, I'll patch you together." M-17 shrugged, then walked
out of the small room after putting her shirt back on. *That fucking bitch was lucky. She managed
to knock me down, and I broke my arm on the way down. She just added insult to injury by pushing
the bones through my skin when she jumped onto my arm.*
The vindictive girl kicked one of the ornamental statuettes off of its pedestal, and while the
small object was tumbling in midair, she sent it flying down the hallway with a second one. The result
was a pained shout as the shaped stone bounced off the back of Jose's head, sending him sprawling
onto the carpet.
"OW!!! Who the bloody hell threw that at me?" M-17 ducked into a conveniently open room
as Jose stormed past, looking like he was going to shred the next person to cross his path. M-17
waited for a few minutes, listening as the far door slammed. She then looked around the room and
just stared at the stacks of heavy weapons lining the walls.
"This is amazing. And it looks like I found your hiding place Jess." M-17 walked over to the
nearest weapon, and lifted the old and ugly rifle. *Wow! This thing looks like it can fire twenty
rounds from one magazine, and the baby scope will give it better accuracy. Still I wonder what it is.*
She guessed that the rifle weighed almost twenty pounds, and decided that she'd try it out in the firing
range.
"So, you like playing with something that I've been restoring since I came out of the tank?"
"Hi Jess. This is an amazing piece of work. What is it?" Jess sighed as she walked over to a
small desk, buried in pistol parts and bullet casings.
"Cute. It's a BAR that was captured from a Canadian military unit near the end of the Second
War."
"BAR?"
"Browning Automatic Rifle. That monster was almost as nasty as an MG42, and more
portable to boot. It could use a 20-round magazine of .45 cal bullets, or fire .50 cal slugs from a belt.
I never figured out how they created the ACT that the thing uses, but this is the only one we have that
is in full working order. Wanna try it out?"
"Damn right I do! How much ammo do you put through this thing?"
"About a hundred rounds a week of both types. I've gotten so proficient with it, I can put a
4-round burst in the ten-circle on a target at a hundred yards."
"Heh. When we go hunting for that bitch, why don't we take this baby along for support? It'll
be more accurate than those dumbassed lumps with rocket launchers."
"Fine. You can play with it, and I get to play sharpshooter. Let's see how many civvies we
can mow down in an hour."
"I'm all for it. Tomorrow. Today, I just want to get a feel for this." The two women , M-17
with the BAR and Jess with a heavily customized sniper rifle that had once been a PSG-1, went over
to the firing range in the basement, joking and occasionally taking potshots at the now-scared Fixed
Ideas.
Sara's House, 6:42 PM
Sara looked through the file on her computer, and rubbed her eyes with her right hand.
Sighing slightly, she scrolled up to the top of the document and reread it for the sixth time in a row.
*Damn. Gauss pistols and rifles have some interesting properties, and I definitely don't want to be
on the receiving end of one. Now, the fact that they produce EM fields strong enough to interfere
with my internals is bad enough, but getting hit by a spike moving at Mach 12 would definitely put
a crimp in my lifestyle.*
Sara groaned slightly, then closed that file. "Remind me to never, ever try to escape from
these assholes again."
"How's that Sara? I thought you like being free."
"Erin, how many times do I have to tell you to knock before entering? Come here and take
a look at this." Erin walked over to Sara, and she noticed that her friend was dressed in her fighting
clothes. Sara reopened the file on the gauss weapons schematics, and scrolled down to the first
diagram.
"Wow. That is complex and nasty. What's the top speed for the slugs?"
"Mach 12. I'm not sure, but that could punch through about three feet of battleship plate
without slowing down too much. Either that or the material will flash-heat into a concentrated plasma
bolt which would be much worse."
"Plasma bolts? Never heard of those."
"They are extremely theoretical. I talked to an old classmate of mine who was working on the
idea of magnetic levitation for trains, and a Gauss weapon uses the same basic principle as one of
those trains. A plasma bolt occurs when something like an iron spike accelerates past normal
thresholds, allowing air friction to vaporize the metal. Whatever's left when it hits something would
be heated to about thirty thousand degrees at the impact point.
"The heat would cause the natural moisture in the substance to expand, and literally blast a
hole the size of my chest through whatever was hit."
"Gross. So, if someone like Six got hit, she'd be dead or seriously wounded in one shot?"
"Dunno. Hopefully, I'd never find out as well. So, what brings you to my not-so humble
abode?"
"Other than being shown something that'd give most sane people nightmares, nothing much.
I wanted to see whether or not you're still in one piece. You did watch that piece over the news about
the murders at the airport?"
"Yeah. I know that style of attack. The attacker used Advanced Combat Armour. And that
stuff is, as far as I'm concerned, the stuff you want for self-defence or offense."
"Where's yours then?"
"Around my waist, as always. Why don't you go hunting for a while? I'll be stuck on this for
a few more hours before I can play ambusher."
"Dammit. Well, do you have any pop in the fridge?"
"Yeah. I still have that bottle of whiskey that I used to disinfect my wounds in there as well."
"I won't even think about touching that one. I'll see you around." Erin walked into the
kitchen, liberated the full bottle of pop from its confines, and walked out onto the back porch before
jumping west into the park.
Shipping Warehouse #27 7:27 PM
"Hey! Everyone UP! NOW!!!" The commander of the Spec-ops team yelled loudly enough
to rattle some of the looser windows, and had instant results. The entire team appeared in front of
him in less than thirty seconds, with the exception of the addition.
"Now, listen up girls! Playtime is officially over. We are going to split up into two groups.
Wilson, you're going to take nine grunts with you and try to apprehend Dr. Zacharias. He lives on
the east side of the park, and his place is nicknamed the Southern Fort Knox. We have no, repeat, NO
information on the defences he has, and apparently he has close contact with the primary."
"Yes sir. I'll take the backups because you have the worst part ahead of you sir."
"Damn right I do. Now, the rest of us will have to go through reconnaissance on the subject's
known haunts: The local high school, a Cafe near there, and the large park near Dr. Zacharias' house.
Good luck. We move out at midnight. Until then, split up into teams of two. Keep your eyes open,
and clean your weapons. Now, we want our targets alive, so dial down the speed on the Gauss pistols
to Mach 8. That will allow us to cripple a person without amputating their limbs."
A chorus of 'Yes Sir' was fired back at the commander, and the troops scattered to where
they had put their equipment, leaving the commander, his XO, and the boss' lackey.
"Well, they won't die quickly."
"That's for sure, sir. I hope that they actually learned something about their newer
equipment."
"Well, I always emphasise the physical over the technological. After all, if your gun fails, you
will need to use your bare hands against your opponent."
"True. Let's get ready."
"Yeah. By the way, you're with me. The boss wants to make sure you come home with all
your extremities intact."