Dr. Zack's House
12:32 AM Monday
Dr. Zack was awake and in the basement, talking to his two most frequent visitors. CyberSix
was distracted, despite the immense enjoyment of Dr. Zack's announcement that she'd never have
to hunt again. Dr. Zack noticed that Six was not totally paying attention, and he surmised that she
was concerned about the news that Sara's worst nightmares had come to town, but was too
concerned about the antics of Stryk as the teen cartwheeled around the large room in a display of
ecstatic energy that amazed him.
"Stryk, please be careful! I don't want to replace," -CRASH!- "That experiment."
Stryk stood up, dusting off her leather coat as she smiled before hugging Six. "Well, you're
in less of a pit now. Actually, you could go and smack Jose around for a few weeks because you're
no longer dependent on his existence, much less the occasional lightning storm."
"Cute Stryk. Why are you so happy now? You don't have to swallow the equivalent of seven
hand grenades every ten days."
"No, I have to play sanitarium patient daily. I'm surprised I haven't had an electrical lobotomy
due to the charges I subject myself to. Anyhow, I'm happy because now Tony can focus on trying
to make me, well, normal."
Dr. Zack chuckled, but his reply was cut off by a blinking red light on a wall panel. "Uh oh.
We have some uninvited company outside, and from what Sara told us over the last few days, I can
guess who's here for dinner."
Stryk cracked her knuckles, then unsheathed her eight-inch long claws for a second. "Well,
this may be interesting. I've always wanted to kick a spec-ops trooper's butt around the city."
Dr. Zack frowned as he checked his .22 pistol, then pulled on his wave suit's hood and gloves
before removing his sweater. "Just so long as you keep them from Sara's house, you can do what you
want. For now, let's see what will happen when they find my little surprises that are floating about."
Outside Dr. Zack's House
The attenuated squad of spec-ops troops raced towards the ten-foot stone wall surrounding
the objective's townhouse, led by Wilson and his personal second, a Corporal Stone. They reached
the wall without incident, and Wilson used hand gestures to order the team to split up and scout the
area before they attacked. The two least experienced men he ordered to keep together and provide
cover for the more experienced troops.
Wilson then vaulted over the wall, and landed quietly on a patch of grass near some holly
bushes. Just as he was straightening up, he heard something moving to his left. Turning quickly,
Wilson noticed a small bottle moving away from him. He decided to take a closer look, and tried to
get close enough to the bottle to check the label. He got to the bottle long enough to notice that it
was high-quality Smirnoff vodka, and decided that it was worth salvaging.
At that point, he remembered what his mission was and the obvious question popped into his
head. *What the bloody hell is a bottle of vodka doing here? Why would someone do this, unless...
it's a trap. SHIT! We're probably compromised.* Nearby, a loud thud heralded the landing of one
of the grunts nearby, and Wilson crept over to find out what had happened. When he got to the
crouching trooper, Wilson tapped the man on the shoulder and whispered for a report.
The trooper nodded and whispered harshly "I landed on the balcony about ten feet up, and
when I took a step, my feet slipped out from underneath me like they were greased. I don't know why
it happened either."
"It's okay. This place is really weird. I found a bottle of vodka sitting in the middle of the
lawn, totally innocent-looking, but I wouldn't touch it if I were paid to."
"Why, sir?"
"It's a trap. This place is rigged with so many tricks it'd take a year to begin to decipher it,
and it's sewn up tighter than a watermelon in a frog's butt. Get onto that wall and see if there's
anything on the roof."
"Okay, sir." The trooper jumped onto the wall, and started to scan the roof of the townhouse
when all hell broke loose. The first thing he noticed was that his hair felt like it was standing on end
for a second, then the anti-thief system kicked in and blasted almost fifty Megavolts through him.
Every person froze as the trooper screamed in agony, only stopping when the massive charge cut out.
The now-seriously wounded trooper fell into the middle of the lawn and twitched spasmodically as
his nerves fired randomly. Then, to add insult to injury, three of the four roof-mounted machine guns
cut loose on his prone form.
Most of the AP ammo didn't punch through the armour the trooper was wearing, but the
repeated impacts sent painful shocks through his body. Several slugs managed to worm their way
through the tough material as well, smashing the hapless man's kneecaps into the human equivalent
of jell-o. The third stage of the townhouses' defences kicked in, and the lawn sprinklers disgorged
their 'presents' for all to dodge.
Each sprinkler launched several two-metre long spikes in random directions, and several of
the heavy metal objects slammed into the wounded trooper. Due to the fact that each spike was
moving at speeds in excess of 200 miles per hour, they simply ignored his armour and skewered his
vital organs like a shish-kebab. The trooper's scream was cut off when a spike slammed into his
throat from the side, severing his windpipe.
The remaining nine men were busy dodging the spikes shot at them by the other sprinklers,
so they didn't have time to react to their comrade's death. Also, the area had created an average
decibel level of the inside of a jet engine due to the barking snarls of the machine guns mixed with the
loud and aggravating clanging noises caused by the spikes rebounding from the outside wall. Wilson
however, had pulled his gauss pistol from its holster and fired four shots.
Each slug, having been accelerated to Mach 8 instead of Mach 12, totally destroyed a
sprinkler and carved impressively long divots along the ground. Having cleared himself a (relatively)
peaceful area to issue orders from, Wilson shouted for two of his men to get to the roof and take out
the machine guns that were adding to the havoc on the ground.
The two men he had selected began to get to the roof very quickly. One of the troopers
jumped to the roof, and blasted one of the heavy machine guns into scrap metal before he noticed that
he couldn't move. In response to the destruction of one of their own, the three remaining guns
swivelled inwards and pointed at the trooper before cutting loose with long rippling bursts that
tracked their ways upwards until at least nine slugs hit their marks in his head.
The trooper's body, pushed backwards by the impacts, fell the twenty-odd feet to the lawn
headfirst, and when he landed, the ominous crunch that emanated from his head told everyone in
earshot that his fighting days were over. The second trooper that had been ordered to the roof was
more cautious than his counterpart, and he used his armour's mutable qualities to create climbing
spikes along his hands. He simply climbed up the wall of the house, under the arcs of fire from the
machine guns, and safely away from the spikes still being launched at the other troopers.
Just as he hit the second floor however, he had to pull himself up over a small ledge to
continue on his climb. He managed to get his arms over the ledge and was about to continue when
a wet SSSHHUNK preceded immense pains in his arms. Looking at his forearms, the trooper could
only stare blankly at the spikes that had gone through his forearms, shattering the bones and rendering
him useful only as a shield. The trooper dropped like a rock, pulling two of the spikes with him, and
as gravity removed the still-connected spikes from their solaces in his arms, he had to scream in pain
when he realized that they were also barbed.
Wilson noticed that only six men were left, not including him. One of the rookies had been
tripped up by a spike, and another one had given him a third eye, removing most of the poor person's
intelligence at the same time. By his count, three men were dead, one was crippled, and should be
shot, and the rest were in varying condition, from unharmed to badly pummelled. At that point, the
owner of the house finally made an entrance, wearing a black suit, gloves, and a ski mask.
Wilson paused for a second, then raised his gauss pistol and took a snap shot before dodging
to the side. He was lucky. The gauss slug hit the Doctor cleanly in the chest, and Wilson thought he
heard a wet snapping sound come from that direction as the Doctor fell to the ground. Wilson got
up and walked towards where the Doc had fallen, but was amazed when the person sat up, pointed
what looked like a .22 pistol at him, and fired five times.
The first three bullets hit in a triangle around Wilson's right eye. The next two were better
aimed, and passed cleanly through the armour's weakest points to lodge neatly in each eye. The twin
bullets shredded Wilson's eyes, blinding him as blood spurted out of his face, and one got far enough
to lacerate an artery in his brain. That bullet killed Wilson as the damaged artery ruptured, causing
a massive cerebral haemorrhage which shredded his brain like a piece of tissue paper on top of a fire
hydrant.
Wilson's body shuddered for a second or two, trying to understand why it had lost input from
its brain, until it got the message; 'Hey! You're dead!' At that point, Wilson's body swayed slightly
for a few more seconds before crashing to the ground, where the dirt partook greedily of his blood,
staining the ground with his life. The remaining squad members had their hands full with two dark
forms that had jumped out of a second story window, and they were thinking of escaping with their
lives intact.
The dark forms were moving at speeds that the remaining troops couldn't comprehend, and
when one of them sagged to the ground with four metal spikes sticking out of his chest, the other five
decided to cut their losses and run. Two had jumped over the wall when a missile streaked out of
nowhere and slammed into the other three troops. However, they were still alive, but heavily shaken
from the concussive blast that had hammered them. Instead of allowing the men to retreat however,
the missile platform, revealed to be a black riding lawnmower, moved closer and rippled off a salvo
of the remaining five AT-4 Sagger-2 Anti-Personnel missiles at the three men.
Adding to the explosions was the continuing hail of fire from the two machine guns with a
clear arc of fire, which abruptly cut off when the three defenders of the house moved into the line of
fire. The smoke and dust kicked up by the concentrated blasts settled down, revealing that the armour
the three men had been wearing was steaming from hot places in the plating, and gaping rents had
been torn in the tough material. Outside, where the two men had left, the sound of gunfire was heard,
and in less than a minute, all the defences shut down.
The two black-clothed people jumped over the wall in pursuit of the surviving troops, but
were stopped short by a shrill whistle. "Hey! Looks like we've had some fun."
"Sara? What the hell are you doing out here at this time of night?"
"Freezing my ass off, Six. That little assault woke me up, and I sorta had to collect my bigger
gun." Sara walked into the light cast by a street-lamp, revealing that she was carrying her cut-down
Anti-Tank rifle, which was still spitting out a stream of smoke. Also, Sara was only wearing a purple
leotard, walking towards the group barefoot.
"I missed one, but the second person got a slug through his chest. It looks kinda messy
though."
"I can imagine. So, wanna see our handiwork?"
"Not really, but if my hunch is right, it's Gen-Core at its worst again."
"Gen-Core?"
"Yeah Stryk. You saw the Gauss Schematics yesterday, and those grunts probably have some
of those beasts. All of it is by Gen-Core." Sara walked into Dr. Zack's front yard through the gate,
and grimaced at the mist-like clouds of cordite and dust drifting through the yard. "Uchhh. Hey Tony,
looks like we have a major problem."
"Damn right we do Sara. So, can you identify any of these people?"
"Maybe. Hey, this looks like something you'd be interested in." Sara bent over and picked
up a fallen gun, but it was of such a strange configuration that she couldn't identify it. However, when
she pointed it upwards and fired a single shot, she instantly felt utterly horrible. Sara dropped the
pistol, and looked at her friends. "Well, I feel miserable. I don't like killing people, even when my life
or my friend's lives are at stake. Here, hang onto this."
Sara got Stryk to hold onto her large gun, and walked over to where Wilson's cooling body
lay. She kicked over the stiffening corpse, and prodded at his chest and upper arms. Soon, she smiled
and pushed inwards, making the armour revert to its dormant form, covering only the chest and upper
legs of the body. Sara asked for and got a flashlight from Dr. Zack, and shone the light over the body.
She then cut loose with a bark of laughter.
"Well, if you told the FBI about this, they'd pay you almost fifty thousand dollars."
"Fifty thousand? Why?"
"He was a child molester. He disappeared just hours before a battalion of troops landed on
his house to squash him. After that, the US. has been hunting for him in order to put some bullets in
his head."
Sara kicked the corpse in the ribs, allowing herself to vent some tension into what could be
considered an inanimate object. Dr. Zack removed the gloves and the mask he was wearing, and
sighed loudly as he surveyed the damage done to his yard. Even the prominent signs stating to keep
off the grass had been knocked over, most by the mad dash called a 'tactical retreat' by the military.
Six and Stryk looked at each other for a second, then shrugged simultaneously.
"Hey Tony. Are you all right? You look like someone hit you in the chest with a
sledgehammer."
"No, I'm not all right. However, I'm in better condition than if I hadn't been wearing my suit.
I have to surmise that I got nailed by a gauss slug."
Sara raised an eyebrow as she looked at Dr. Zack for a long second, then looked at the pile
of three men who had been pummelled to death by the missile volley. She walked over to the heap,
and studied the damage done to the armour. "Odd. From what I've seen of the armour schematics,
these rents should've repaired themselves less than two seconds after being damaged."
"Really. Well, maybe I should look over the information that you sent me again. Six, Stryk,
can you help me by calling the police and retrieving the one Sara shot?"
"I'll call the cops! Have fun collecting the corpse, Six."
"Thanks Stryk. You sure you don't want to help?" Stryk grinned, shook her head, and walked
into Dr. Zack's house as Sara and Dr. Zack collected the Gauss pistols in order to figure out how
they worked in a practical sense. Soon, Stryk walked out of the house, picked up three pistols that
Sara had missed, and gave Sara back her own gun.
"Well, the police will be here in a few minutes. You'd better scoot unless you want to be
picked up as an accessory to murder."
"Very funny Stryk. I'll see you two, make that three" Sara included Six as the Cyber hopped
over the wall, burdened by another dead body, this one having a hole in its chest the diameter of
Sara's fist. "Later. Have a good night, and I'll see you at school Tony."
"Good night Sara. Please try to remain in one piece."
"I plan to. You'll see me about for a while longer." Sara walked out of Dr. Zack's yard and
returned to her house, picking up the discarded shell casing on the way. When the police arrived, Six
and Stryk had already left, stopping at Sara's house for a few minutes to try and get some more
information. However, all they got was a noncommital grunt and a yawn before they left.
Shipping Warehouse #27, 1:25 AM
"What the hell happened there?"
"I'm telling you sir, the entire team was wiped out by the place's defences, and that accursed
Doctor as well."
"Right. And I'm the fucking Queen of Spain!!! Tell the goddamned truth!"
"I am! Sir." The trooper was sweating profusely as his commander sat in a chair in front of
him. However, most of the trooper's nervousness came from the fact that the addition's Gauss pistol
was seemingly glued to his right ear.
"Look, I managed to survive through a healthy dose of luck, and nobody else survived.
Zacharias' place has several machine guns, seemingly remote-controlled, a spike field in his lawn, and
a psychotic lawnmower armed with at least six missiles. Jameson and I managed to get out of the
killing zone, and decided to retreat after Wilson was killed by someone wearing black clothing.
"I don't know what that stuff was made of, but it stood up to a Gauss slug at almost point-
blank range. When Jameson and I retreated, we jumped north by about three houses, and came under
fire from the primary subject. Jameson was hit, and when I tried to save him, I saw that most of his
chest had been pulverized by what appeared to be a metal spike over an inch wide."
"What? Wait a second. You just said that Jameson was killed by the subject, right? How did
she manage to get her hands on something like that?" The addition frowned as he mumbled something
to himself, then shuddered. "Shit. She has a family heirloom that can easily punch through our
armour."
"How do you know it's a family heirloom? As far as I know, she has no family."
"I told you before, that's classified." The commander grunted, then walked out of the
warehouse for some fresh air, leaving the two men alone in the cavernous building. As the
commander closed the door, he heard the recitation of a short military tribunal, then a single shot.
Soon, the addition walked out of the warehouse, wiping blood off of the front of his armour. "Well,
he was tried and found guilty for gross incompetence and cowardice in the face of the enemy."
"You really shouldn't do that. Now I'll have to keep your butt safe from two sides."
"Right. I doubt that. Shouldn't everyone be set up for the recon yet?"
"They left about twenty minutes ago. I'm not surprised you didn't see them, considering how
involved you were. Anyhow, they'll keep surveillance on her for the day, then we'll consolidate and
attack. I consider the Anthony Zacharias mission to be a failure, but only because of unsurmountable
defences instead of incompetence. We rendevous in the park at midnight, so get some rest."
"Fine. Just remember this: When she's either given up or defeated, I'll have to talk to her for
a few minutes. Keep her under your sights, but try to keep out of earshot as well."
"Your funeral. I'm going to get some rest." The commander walked back into the warehouse,
looked at the headless corpse lying in the middle of the floor, and looked over at the wall where most
of the person's fried brains and pieces of skull had landed. The commander grunted as he
contemplated the abstract pattern, then walked over to the radio system that had been set up several
hours before the first attack. He turned on the system, and dialled in a code known to only three
members on the team.
"Ivonava, you in position?"
"Yes sir. The subject is under surveillance. Can I take a shot at her?"
"No. Your mission is reconnaissance. I want you to keep her in your sights as long as possible
however, because it's highly likely that she knows we're here and gunning for her."
"Dammit. Well, murphy's law has just reared its ugly head, hasn't it."
"Yep. Here's another crimp: we have orders to capture her alive and in mostly one piece."
"So I'll have to put away my sniper rifle and use that electro-grapple? Shit. You know that
the thing only has a range of six feet. By the time I'm that close, she'll have filled me with enough
metal to start a scrap drive."
"Well, we'll have to do our best. Remind me to give all the surviving members a pay raise of
about thirty percent when we get back home. Be careful. After all, you're our only medic."
"All right, sir. Check in at about Eight in the morning. Over and out." The radio went dead,
and the commander smiled as he visualized his only female member keeping a sharp watch on the
subject's house.
Jose's Mansion, 6:30 AM
"Hey Jess, d'you wanna know what really torques me off?"
"What 17? If you haven't noticed, when I'm adjusting the sights on a gun, I don't need to be
bothered." Jess put a small screwdriver into a pocket on the pseudo-military fatigues she was
wearing, then checked the scope on the rifle she was sighting in. Jacking a round into the chamber,
she fired at the circular target two hundred yards away and was rewarded with a hole right where she
wanted. "Jose. That stunted little ho-bitch probably has cameras hidden in every room of this place
occupied by females, and he'd try and sneak into the ladies room as well."
"So, that's part of the reason why you tossed him into the freezer a few days ago?"
"Yep. That and I wanted out of here so I can kill the other thorn in my ass."
"What's really weird is that you haven't been your usual, unpredictable psychotic self for the
last few weeks."
"Really? Maybe you're a moderating influence on me?" M-17 and Jess chuckled and cleaned
the guns they had been firing at the human-shaped targets near the sighting range. Both targets had
been pummelled by twenty bullets apiece, and both had tight groups of holes over where a person's
heart would be, with a few scattered in the targets at head level.
"Probably. Can you pass the cleaning solvent? I'm going to be using this thing soon, and want
to make sure it's not that badly fouled."
"Yeah, here." 17 tossed the small bottle over to Jess, then finished wiping down the blued
steel of the BAR's barrel. "This gun is amazing. Now I know why the allied infantry was so nasty."
"That's not the half of it. When you have the time, take a look through the multimedia library
for some video clips of those things in action. The people who used these were reputed to be totally
fearless, and some stood up in the line of fire for fun."
"There must've been a lot of Darwin Awards handed out during that timeframe."
"Yep. C'mon, we want to find a nice hunting spot before the city wakes up too much, and it'll
take us half an hour to drive in." Jess grinned and put the rifle in a padded carrying case, which she
closed after putting two boxes of heavy slugs into cutouts in the foam. M-17 did the same with the
BAR, adding a belt of about five hundred rounds of depleted-uranium slugs for added punch. Just as
the two were finishing their preparations, the one little hassle that both hated popped into the room.
"Hello you two. Your little excursion's been delayed until tonight."
"What the hell are you drivelling about Jose? We've been planning this bit since I got my arm
in the cast, and now that the piece of plaster is off, we're gonna have some fun."
"I told you, change of plans. We need someone to get a package from where the observatory
was, and you two are the best candidates."
"In your ear runt."
"Kinky. Get going, and I'll give you some additional ammunition as well as the stuff you
have." Jose pulled a key from a chain around his neck and waved it at the two women. Both
recognised it as the armoury key, but Jess clutched her stomach and started laughing. Jose frowned
as M-17 chuckled and Jess pulled an identical key from one of her pockets.
"Sucker. I had a copy of that key made less than a year ago. Anyhow, we're off after we
change into something that doesn't stand out like a bruised thumb." Jess and 17 grabbed their
weapons cases, walked out of the room together, and went into their separate rooms to change into
semi-casual clothes. Soon, they reappeared, Jess wearing cargo pants and a black sweater, which hid
at least two pistols and several loaded magazines for all her guns.
M-17 was wearing black leather pants, tanktop and trenchcoat, all of which were hiding
several knives and at least one gun. They still had their gun cases, but Jess raided the armoury for
several grenades, silencers for her pistols, and at least ten blocks of C-4 plastique. After they had
stashed all the equipment in the jeep they were using, Jess hopped into the driver's seat, 17 got into
the passenger side, flipping off Jose, and they peeled out of the car park, deliberately aiming to try
and squash Jose's foot with the car's tires.
They succeeded, and were chased from the park by the runt's yowls of pain. The two grinned,
Jess turned on the radio, and they drove towards the awakening city, trading jokes about Jose's
obvious problems.
Sara's House, 8:00 AM
Sara groaned as she realized that she had to be at the school in just under twenty minutes, and
rubbed her bloodshot eyes. Sighing, she gathered up the six letters she had written in her rather neat
handwriting, and addressed them to CyberSix, Tony, Lucas, and Erin. The last two she left
unaddressed, but one she simply wrote 'Obituary' on it, and the other was a legal will.
Sara gathered together the addressed letters, and, after getting dressed in jeans and a tube top,
despite the cool weather, Sara put all four into her coat pocket, and decided to walk to school,
despite the obvious dangers that would place her in. As a precaution, she strapped her knife to the
small of her back, keeping it hidden underneath her shirt.
Sara actually decided to stop off at Dr. Zack's place first and give him the letter that she had
written for him, but had to wait for several minutes for him to appear. When he did however, Sara
neatly ambushed him by tapping him on the shoulder. "Hello Tony. Didja sleep at all last night, or
were you busy trying to decipher one of those Gauss pistols?"
"Actually, I've had the police crawling over my front yard since One in the morning. Also,
just to add insult to injury, my security system had to be shut down to keep the cops from being
perforated."
"Well, that's better than being slapped with murder charges. After all, it was justifiable self-
defence. In my case however, I'm going to be nailed to a wall by exposing one of my aces to those
buggers."
"Hey, stop with the doom-and-gloom mood Sara. So, why are you walking to school instead
of using that coronary inducement system you call a motorbike?"
"Exercise mainly, but I also wanted to give you this." Sara handed over the letter addressed
to Dr. Zack, and let him look at the small letters underneath his name.
"To open upon the event of your death or disappearance? Why in the name of god are you
giving me this?"
"Precaution. I know that I'm going to get hurt when the spec-ops team comes for me, and
I don't know how badly. As a result, my close friends are getting a letter each. If I'm still alive and
mostly in one piece at the end of the year, burn it."
"Okay. You win. Who else is getting the letters?"
"Lucas, Erin, and Cyb. Also, I'm not coming into school tomorrow, so most of my students
get extra homework today."
"They'll enjoy that. If you show up on Thursday, will you be able to continue your faculty
lessons in aikido? I sat in on one a few weeks ago and found it intensely interesting."
"I noticed. Was that the one where Lucas was used as the practice dummy, or when Mr.
Tilman fell over and just couldn't get back up?"
"The Tilman incident. I can't believe that the pompous, overweight blowhard tried to pull off
a block and sweep move, especially because he can't see his own feet." Sara laughed at the
description of the principal, and nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, that was pretty pathetic. It took four of us to get him back onto his feet, and he
instantly tried to tear a strip out of the rest of us. Well, looks like we get to deal with our classes soon
enough."
"True. See you in the afternoon. By the way, if you want Cyb to talk to you I'll leave her a
message."
"Thanks Tony. Well, it's time to face the music and try to survive another day in the school.
Hope Lori doesn't try to lace your coffee with Ex-Lax."
"She only tried that once, and I caught it because I drink tea instead."
"True. I'll probably see you after school."
"See you later Sara." Tony walked into the front doors of the school, the letter sticking out
of his coat pocket. Sara followed soon after, pausing for a few seconds just outside of the door as
she felt a prickling sensation all the way down her back. She shrugged it off for the moment, however,
and continued into her regular day.
Soon, before her first class, she exposed her sense of humour by placing a dead rat on Lori's
seat. When Lori sat down for the class, she instantly became the butt of all the jokes for the morning.
Lori didn't take well to the prank, but she didn't have much of a choice because it revealed that Sara
was seemingly healthier than she had been the previous week. After Sara revealed the rat to be made
of rubber, Lori took the joke for what it was and put the potato she was holding aside.
Erin watched the entire proceedings from her usual perch at the back of the classroom, and
couldn't help but smile as Sara went through every student presentation without even yawning.
However, she was surprised when, on the break between the double period, Sara asked to talk to her
for a few minutes. Erin agreed, and they let the rest of the class clear out before Sara spoke up.
"Well, I'm not one for beating around the bush. Here." Sara handed over Erin's letter, then
watched as Erin studied the note.
"Why the hell are you giving me this? I think you're closer to Cyb or Lucas than me."
"Not true. Lucas knows next to nothing about me, but he is getting one as well. Tony's
already gotten his, and Cyb will get hers tonight."
"Okay then. But still, why? You're not gonna croak anytime soon, and If anyone tries to mess
you up, you'd rip their balls off."
"Not exactly, but true. Actually, I'm more concerned about my friends than about myself. Go
out and have fun sometime later. Hell, I'd pay for the pizza, but I'm gonna be busy all night."
Erin frowned at the quiet dismissal in Sara's voice, and tucked the letter into her backpack.
Then, she went out to her five-minute break to get a pop, despite the rules against food and drinks
in the science wing.
Outside of the School, 12:10 PM
The observer was actually lying down on a flat rooftop about two hundred yards from the
school grounds when he saw the objective. *Yep, about five-eight, seems to be a bit lighter than
stated in the dossier. Long reddish-black hair... that matches. Hello, what's this?* He scaled the zoom
on his binoculars to get a closer look at the person's face, and saw some red lines on her right cheek.
*Odd. That's not hair, and I don't think she has scars on her face, but the info is out-of-date. Looks
like her hobby backfired on her. Yeah, those scars on her arms match up. We have contact!*
The observer turned on his radio and contacted his commander, back in the warehouse. "Sir,
we have confirmed contact with the subject. Apparently, she's a teacher of some sort at the local high
school, and has forged friendships with several students, along with a least two teachers there. You
want me to collect her?"
"No. We do not want to reveal ourselves again. Keep an eye on her, and tally a list of people
who seem to be relatively close to her as well as their physical descriptions. Over and Out." Growling
slightly, the observer turned off his radio and refocused on the subject with his high-power binoculars,
just in time to see a slim, black-haired man walk up to the subject and strike up a conversation.
*Damn I wish I had brought a parabolic microphone. I can barely read what the subject's saying.*
The observer was madly writing down what he was translating from his lip-reading, and when
he looked at the transcription, only about half the words were intelligible. *Well, she was saying
something about a letter, but who's this 'Cyb' she referred to a few times? Also, why the hell would
she stay at home tomorrow? Maybe she's found us out, and is preparing for a fight. I'd love to try
and investigate, but my mission is to keep this dump under observation until tonight.*
The observer, venting his frustration at his inability to put a bullet through the subject's head,
stood up, walked over to the other side of the apartment he had appropriated, and viciously kicked
the two corpses there repeatedly in the chests. He smiled as he listened to the crushed ribs sliding
loosely around in the bodies, making soft squishing noises as more blood dribbled out of the shattered
heads, quickly being absorbed by the shag carpet.
The observer quickly returned to his post, and swore silently as he realized that the subject
had disappeared and the yard was empty. He updated the commander on the situation, and got a
recall order as a response.
Sara's House, 7:45 PM
Sara had just opened her safe and was retrieving her cut-down AT gun for a long-overdue
cleaning when she heard the window slide open. "Hello Six. Why didn't you use the back door?"
"Boredom mainly. That and I really want to find out why you're giving out these letters."
"Precautions. I told Tony the same thing. Now, you want yours or not?"
"Fine. I'll take it, but only to make you happy."
"You don't know the half of it. Now, where did I put it?" Sara put the gun down and flipped
through the pile of papers she had put on the night-table next to the now-dim vial of sustenance that
had been collecting dust for the last six months. Soon, she found the requisite letter, and gave it to
her friend. "Here Y'go. I hope you have a good night. I'll be busy for the rest of the night, as well
as tomorrow. On Wednesday, don't be surprised if there are a lot of explosions rolling about the
city."
"Thanks for the warning. Be careful."
"Damn right I will. Now scoot, I'm not gonna spend much on pleasantries when cleaning a
gun, and especially when I'm also gonna be cleaning some pointy objects afterwards."
"Bye Sara. Maybe I'll see you later tonight."
"I'd like that. If you come back in a few hours, I'll have the worst of the work behind me."
Six left by the window, leaving only the faint flutter of her cape behind her. Sara grinned and
continued cleaning her gun, making sure that there were no chemical deposits that could throw off
her aim. After she finished with the long and involved cleaning, Sara collected about twenty of her
AP rounds for the gun and carefully fixed some horrible noisemaking arrangements to each slug.
*Well, I just took a page from the history books. A couple of these moaning minnies should
keep their heads down, and get their trenches much deeper by the morning.* Sara chuckled as she
finished putting the noisemakers on the shells, then, just to make sure they worked, she loaded an
extra into her gun through the breech, and aimed out of the open window, bracing herself for the
massive recoil.
Sara slowly squeezed the trigger, and was nearly knocked off her feet by the massive blast.
The four and a half foot long muzzle blast left a long scorch mark up the wall as the gun jerked
upwards, but the slug went flying out the window, and instead of the usual whistling THOOMP of
a normal shot, it was making horrible howls, groans, whistles, and other sundry noises that could best
be described as the legions of hell howling in agony.
As an instant result, she saw every light go on in the immediate vicinity, and heard about ten
car alarms start howling as well. "My god. I think it's brown pants time for most anyone who heard
that thing. Ow. My ears are killing me! Well, that's what'll happen for a while on Wednesday. I hope
the people won't mind too much." Sara ejected the empty cartridge, revealing that the brass casing
was heavily scorched and blackened from the incredible heat produced by the powder charge that had
been fired off.
She then gathered several empty magazines for her gun, and carefully loaded one moaner into
the first slot before randomly filling in the remaining four slots with either High-Ex or AP slugs. Soon,
the twenty magazines were loaded, and Sara slapped one into her gun, chambering a round before
flicking on the safety. She then reached under the back of her shirt, removed her knife, and cleaned
the blade with a weak acid solution. She did the same with her sword ten minutes later, taking
immense care not to get nicked on the razor-sharp edge.
After the weapon cleaning was finished, Sara went into her basement room, and instead of
grabbing her usual mix of cards, she collected sixty Chem-Ex cards as well as fifteen smokers. Sara
put the collection of explosives into the belt pouch, which was sitting beside the table in the basement.
She finally collected her cape, which had been collecting dust since her first run-in with M-17.
She brought up both items, and left the pouch sitting on the small chair where she had been
sitting for three hours as she had modified her ammunition and cleaned her weapons. Sara then
looked at herself in the mirror, grinned, and put on the gold and ruby pendant which controlled her
armour. Sara activated the armour after closing her drapes, so nobody could look inside as she
checked out all the modes.
The most dormant mode, the belt, changed into a scale leotard as Sara dictated the actions
of her almost unique suit. She then turned it into its peacetime mode, making her entire body except
for her face immune to up to 20mm weapons fire. She switched to combat, allowing the armour to
cover her face, leaving only her eyes clear and exposed. Then, she tried out the remaining five modes.
The weapons extruded from her right and left wrists, and Sara checked out the workings of the
twenty-foot whip and three-foot spike.
Ironically, she recognised both weapons as what had been used to kill the airport controllers
yesterday, then checked out her high-defence mode. The armour rippled, making both weapons
retract into her wrists before it thickened across her chest, head, and thighs. The extreme defence
could block 2-inch slugs without problem, but inhibited her mobility and jumping distance.
Finally, Sara checked out her chameleonic mode, which had the primary drawback of trying
to fry her synapses at a greatly accelerated rate. When the armour revealed to her that it had produced
an almost-identical copy of her wall's colour, Sara grinned and told her armour to shut down through
the sub-vocal microphone. As her armour reverted to its belt form, Sara rummaged through her night-
table and pulled out a brace for her right wrist with three small crystals set into the heavy material.
Finally, with her AT gun sitting on her table, the sword leaning beside it, her dagger leaning
against the mirror, and the pouch of explosives and smokescreens sitting on the chair, Sara lay down
in bed, used a remote to turn off her lights, and fell asleep. However, she spent a restless night,
tossing and turning before waking up at Six in the morning, bathed in sweat and wild-eyed.
12:32 AM Monday
Dr. Zack was awake and in the basement, talking to his two most frequent visitors. CyberSix
was distracted, despite the immense enjoyment of Dr. Zack's announcement that she'd never have
to hunt again. Dr. Zack noticed that Six was not totally paying attention, and he surmised that she
was concerned about the news that Sara's worst nightmares had come to town, but was too
concerned about the antics of Stryk as the teen cartwheeled around the large room in a display of
ecstatic energy that amazed him.
"Stryk, please be careful! I don't want to replace," -CRASH!- "That experiment."
Stryk stood up, dusting off her leather coat as she smiled before hugging Six. "Well, you're
in less of a pit now. Actually, you could go and smack Jose around for a few weeks because you're
no longer dependent on his existence, much less the occasional lightning storm."
"Cute Stryk. Why are you so happy now? You don't have to swallow the equivalent of seven
hand grenades every ten days."
"No, I have to play sanitarium patient daily. I'm surprised I haven't had an electrical lobotomy
due to the charges I subject myself to. Anyhow, I'm happy because now Tony can focus on trying
to make me, well, normal."
Dr. Zack chuckled, but his reply was cut off by a blinking red light on a wall panel. "Uh oh.
We have some uninvited company outside, and from what Sara told us over the last few days, I can
guess who's here for dinner."
Stryk cracked her knuckles, then unsheathed her eight-inch long claws for a second. "Well,
this may be interesting. I've always wanted to kick a spec-ops trooper's butt around the city."
Dr. Zack frowned as he checked his .22 pistol, then pulled on his wave suit's hood and gloves
before removing his sweater. "Just so long as you keep them from Sara's house, you can do what you
want. For now, let's see what will happen when they find my little surprises that are floating about."
Outside Dr. Zack's House
The attenuated squad of spec-ops troops raced towards the ten-foot stone wall surrounding
the objective's townhouse, led by Wilson and his personal second, a Corporal Stone. They reached
the wall without incident, and Wilson used hand gestures to order the team to split up and scout the
area before they attacked. The two least experienced men he ordered to keep together and provide
cover for the more experienced troops.
Wilson then vaulted over the wall, and landed quietly on a patch of grass near some holly
bushes. Just as he was straightening up, he heard something moving to his left. Turning quickly,
Wilson noticed a small bottle moving away from him. He decided to take a closer look, and tried to
get close enough to the bottle to check the label. He got to the bottle long enough to notice that it
was high-quality Smirnoff vodka, and decided that it was worth salvaging.
At that point, he remembered what his mission was and the obvious question popped into his
head. *What the bloody hell is a bottle of vodka doing here? Why would someone do this, unless...
it's a trap. SHIT! We're probably compromised.* Nearby, a loud thud heralded the landing of one
of the grunts nearby, and Wilson crept over to find out what had happened. When he got to the
crouching trooper, Wilson tapped the man on the shoulder and whispered for a report.
The trooper nodded and whispered harshly "I landed on the balcony about ten feet up, and
when I took a step, my feet slipped out from underneath me like they were greased. I don't know why
it happened either."
"It's okay. This place is really weird. I found a bottle of vodka sitting in the middle of the
lawn, totally innocent-looking, but I wouldn't touch it if I were paid to."
"Why, sir?"
"It's a trap. This place is rigged with so many tricks it'd take a year to begin to decipher it,
and it's sewn up tighter than a watermelon in a frog's butt. Get onto that wall and see if there's
anything on the roof."
"Okay, sir." The trooper jumped onto the wall, and started to scan the roof of the townhouse
when all hell broke loose. The first thing he noticed was that his hair felt like it was standing on end
for a second, then the anti-thief system kicked in and blasted almost fifty Megavolts through him.
Every person froze as the trooper screamed in agony, only stopping when the massive charge cut out.
The now-seriously wounded trooper fell into the middle of the lawn and twitched spasmodically as
his nerves fired randomly. Then, to add insult to injury, three of the four roof-mounted machine guns
cut loose on his prone form.
Most of the AP ammo didn't punch through the armour the trooper was wearing, but the
repeated impacts sent painful shocks through his body. Several slugs managed to worm their way
through the tough material as well, smashing the hapless man's kneecaps into the human equivalent
of jell-o. The third stage of the townhouses' defences kicked in, and the lawn sprinklers disgorged
their 'presents' for all to dodge.
Each sprinkler launched several two-metre long spikes in random directions, and several of
the heavy metal objects slammed into the wounded trooper. Due to the fact that each spike was
moving at speeds in excess of 200 miles per hour, they simply ignored his armour and skewered his
vital organs like a shish-kebab. The trooper's scream was cut off when a spike slammed into his
throat from the side, severing his windpipe.
The remaining nine men were busy dodging the spikes shot at them by the other sprinklers,
so they didn't have time to react to their comrade's death. Also, the area had created an average
decibel level of the inside of a jet engine due to the barking snarls of the machine guns mixed with the
loud and aggravating clanging noises caused by the spikes rebounding from the outside wall. Wilson
however, had pulled his gauss pistol from its holster and fired four shots.
Each slug, having been accelerated to Mach 8 instead of Mach 12, totally destroyed a
sprinkler and carved impressively long divots along the ground. Having cleared himself a (relatively)
peaceful area to issue orders from, Wilson shouted for two of his men to get to the roof and take out
the machine guns that were adding to the havoc on the ground.
The two men he had selected began to get to the roof very quickly. One of the troopers
jumped to the roof, and blasted one of the heavy machine guns into scrap metal before he noticed that
he couldn't move. In response to the destruction of one of their own, the three remaining guns
swivelled inwards and pointed at the trooper before cutting loose with long rippling bursts that
tracked their ways upwards until at least nine slugs hit their marks in his head.
The trooper's body, pushed backwards by the impacts, fell the twenty-odd feet to the lawn
headfirst, and when he landed, the ominous crunch that emanated from his head told everyone in
earshot that his fighting days were over. The second trooper that had been ordered to the roof was
more cautious than his counterpart, and he used his armour's mutable qualities to create climbing
spikes along his hands. He simply climbed up the wall of the house, under the arcs of fire from the
machine guns, and safely away from the spikes still being launched at the other troopers.
Just as he hit the second floor however, he had to pull himself up over a small ledge to
continue on his climb. He managed to get his arms over the ledge and was about to continue when
a wet SSSHHUNK preceded immense pains in his arms. Looking at his forearms, the trooper could
only stare blankly at the spikes that had gone through his forearms, shattering the bones and rendering
him useful only as a shield. The trooper dropped like a rock, pulling two of the spikes with him, and
as gravity removed the still-connected spikes from their solaces in his arms, he had to scream in pain
when he realized that they were also barbed.
Wilson noticed that only six men were left, not including him. One of the rookies had been
tripped up by a spike, and another one had given him a third eye, removing most of the poor person's
intelligence at the same time. By his count, three men were dead, one was crippled, and should be
shot, and the rest were in varying condition, from unharmed to badly pummelled. At that point, the
owner of the house finally made an entrance, wearing a black suit, gloves, and a ski mask.
Wilson paused for a second, then raised his gauss pistol and took a snap shot before dodging
to the side. He was lucky. The gauss slug hit the Doctor cleanly in the chest, and Wilson thought he
heard a wet snapping sound come from that direction as the Doctor fell to the ground. Wilson got
up and walked towards where the Doc had fallen, but was amazed when the person sat up, pointed
what looked like a .22 pistol at him, and fired five times.
The first three bullets hit in a triangle around Wilson's right eye. The next two were better
aimed, and passed cleanly through the armour's weakest points to lodge neatly in each eye. The twin
bullets shredded Wilson's eyes, blinding him as blood spurted out of his face, and one got far enough
to lacerate an artery in his brain. That bullet killed Wilson as the damaged artery ruptured, causing
a massive cerebral haemorrhage which shredded his brain like a piece of tissue paper on top of a fire
hydrant.
Wilson's body shuddered for a second or two, trying to understand why it had lost input from
its brain, until it got the message; 'Hey! You're dead!' At that point, Wilson's body swayed slightly
for a few more seconds before crashing to the ground, where the dirt partook greedily of his blood,
staining the ground with his life. The remaining squad members had their hands full with two dark
forms that had jumped out of a second story window, and they were thinking of escaping with their
lives intact.
The dark forms were moving at speeds that the remaining troops couldn't comprehend, and
when one of them sagged to the ground with four metal spikes sticking out of his chest, the other five
decided to cut their losses and run. Two had jumped over the wall when a missile streaked out of
nowhere and slammed into the other three troops. However, they were still alive, but heavily shaken
from the concussive blast that had hammered them. Instead of allowing the men to retreat however,
the missile platform, revealed to be a black riding lawnmower, moved closer and rippled off a salvo
of the remaining five AT-4 Sagger-2 Anti-Personnel missiles at the three men.
Adding to the explosions was the continuing hail of fire from the two machine guns with a
clear arc of fire, which abruptly cut off when the three defenders of the house moved into the line of
fire. The smoke and dust kicked up by the concentrated blasts settled down, revealing that the armour
the three men had been wearing was steaming from hot places in the plating, and gaping rents had
been torn in the tough material. Outside, where the two men had left, the sound of gunfire was heard,
and in less than a minute, all the defences shut down.
The two black-clothed people jumped over the wall in pursuit of the surviving troops, but
were stopped short by a shrill whistle. "Hey! Looks like we've had some fun."
"Sara? What the hell are you doing out here at this time of night?"
"Freezing my ass off, Six. That little assault woke me up, and I sorta had to collect my bigger
gun." Sara walked into the light cast by a street-lamp, revealing that she was carrying her cut-down
Anti-Tank rifle, which was still spitting out a stream of smoke. Also, Sara was only wearing a purple
leotard, walking towards the group barefoot.
"I missed one, but the second person got a slug through his chest. It looks kinda messy
though."
"I can imagine. So, wanna see our handiwork?"
"Not really, but if my hunch is right, it's Gen-Core at its worst again."
"Gen-Core?"
"Yeah Stryk. You saw the Gauss Schematics yesterday, and those grunts probably have some
of those beasts. All of it is by Gen-Core." Sara walked into Dr. Zack's front yard through the gate,
and grimaced at the mist-like clouds of cordite and dust drifting through the yard. "Uchhh. Hey Tony,
looks like we have a major problem."
"Damn right we do Sara. So, can you identify any of these people?"
"Maybe. Hey, this looks like something you'd be interested in." Sara bent over and picked
up a fallen gun, but it was of such a strange configuration that she couldn't identify it. However, when
she pointed it upwards and fired a single shot, she instantly felt utterly horrible. Sara dropped the
pistol, and looked at her friends. "Well, I feel miserable. I don't like killing people, even when my life
or my friend's lives are at stake. Here, hang onto this."
Sara got Stryk to hold onto her large gun, and walked over to where Wilson's cooling body
lay. She kicked over the stiffening corpse, and prodded at his chest and upper arms. Soon, she smiled
and pushed inwards, making the armour revert to its dormant form, covering only the chest and upper
legs of the body. Sara asked for and got a flashlight from Dr. Zack, and shone the light over the body.
She then cut loose with a bark of laughter.
"Well, if you told the FBI about this, they'd pay you almost fifty thousand dollars."
"Fifty thousand? Why?"
"He was a child molester. He disappeared just hours before a battalion of troops landed on
his house to squash him. After that, the US. has been hunting for him in order to put some bullets in
his head."
Sara kicked the corpse in the ribs, allowing herself to vent some tension into what could be
considered an inanimate object. Dr. Zack removed the gloves and the mask he was wearing, and
sighed loudly as he surveyed the damage done to his yard. Even the prominent signs stating to keep
off the grass had been knocked over, most by the mad dash called a 'tactical retreat' by the military.
Six and Stryk looked at each other for a second, then shrugged simultaneously.
"Hey Tony. Are you all right? You look like someone hit you in the chest with a
sledgehammer."
"No, I'm not all right. However, I'm in better condition than if I hadn't been wearing my suit.
I have to surmise that I got nailed by a gauss slug."
Sara raised an eyebrow as she looked at Dr. Zack for a long second, then looked at the pile
of three men who had been pummelled to death by the missile volley. She walked over to the heap,
and studied the damage done to the armour. "Odd. From what I've seen of the armour schematics,
these rents should've repaired themselves less than two seconds after being damaged."
"Really. Well, maybe I should look over the information that you sent me again. Six, Stryk,
can you help me by calling the police and retrieving the one Sara shot?"
"I'll call the cops! Have fun collecting the corpse, Six."
"Thanks Stryk. You sure you don't want to help?" Stryk grinned, shook her head, and walked
into Dr. Zack's house as Sara and Dr. Zack collected the Gauss pistols in order to figure out how
they worked in a practical sense. Soon, Stryk walked out of the house, picked up three pistols that
Sara had missed, and gave Sara back her own gun.
"Well, the police will be here in a few minutes. You'd better scoot unless you want to be
picked up as an accessory to murder."
"Very funny Stryk. I'll see you two, make that three" Sara included Six as the Cyber hopped
over the wall, burdened by another dead body, this one having a hole in its chest the diameter of
Sara's fist. "Later. Have a good night, and I'll see you at school Tony."
"Good night Sara. Please try to remain in one piece."
"I plan to. You'll see me about for a while longer." Sara walked out of Dr. Zack's yard and
returned to her house, picking up the discarded shell casing on the way. When the police arrived, Six
and Stryk had already left, stopping at Sara's house for a few minutes to try and get some more
information. However, all they got was a noncommital grunt and a yawn before they left.
Shipping Warehouse #27, 1:25 AM
"What the hell happened there?"
"I'm telling you sir, the entire team was wiped out by the place's defences, and that accursed
Doctor as well."
"Right. And I'm the fucking Queen of Spain!!! Tell the goddamned truth!"
"I am! Sir." The trooper was sweating profusely as his commander sat in a chair in front of
him. However, most of the trooper's nervousness came from the fact that the addition's Gauss pistol
was seemingly glued to his right ear.
"Look, I managed to survive through a healthy dose of luck, and nobody else survived.
Zacharias' place has several machine guns, seemingly remote-controlled, a spike field in his lawn, and
a psychotic lawnmower armed with at least six missiles. Jameson and I managed to get out of the
killing zone, and decided to retreat after Wilson was killed by someone wearing black clothing.
"I don't know what that stuff was made of, but it stood up to a Gauss slug at almost point-
blank range. When Jameson and I retreated, we jumped north by about three houses, and came under
fire from the primary subject. Jameson was hit, and when I tried to save him, I saw that most of his
chest had been pulverized by what appeared to be a metal spike over an inch wide."
"What? Wait a second. You just said that Jameson was killed by the subject, right? How did
she manage to get her hands on something like that?" The addition frowned as he mumbled something
to himself, then shuddered. "Shit. She has a family heirloom that can easily punch through our
armour."
"How do you know it's a family heirloom? As far as I know, she has no family."
"I told you before, that's classified." The commander grunted, then walked out of the
warehouse for some fresh air, leaving the two men alone in the cavernous building. As the
commander closed the door, he heard the recitation of a short military tribunal, then a single shot.
Soon, the addition walked out of the warehouse, wiping blood off of the front of his armour. "Well,
he was tried and found guilty for gross incompetence and cowardice in the face of the enemy."
"You really shouldn't do that. Now I'll have to keep your butt safe from two sides."
"Right. I doubt that. Shouldn't everyone be set up for the recon yet?"
"They left about twenty minutes ago. I'm not surprised you didn't see them, considering how
involved you were. Anyhow, they'll keep surveillance on her for the day, then we'll consolidate and
attack. I consider the Anthony Zacharias mission to be a failure, but only because of unsurmountable
defences instead of incompetence. We rendevous in the park at midnight, so get some rest."
"Fine. Just remember this: When she's either given up or defeated, I'll have to talk to her for
a few minutes. Keep her under your sights, but try to keep out of earshot as well."
"Your funeral. I'm going to get some rest." The commander walked back into the warehouse,
looked at the headless corpse lying in the middle of the floor, and looked over at the wall where most
of the person's fried brains and pieces of skull had landed. The commander grunted as he
contemplated the abstract pattern, then walked over to the radio system that had been set up several
hours before the first attack. He turned on the system, and dialled in a code known to only three
members on the team.
"Ivonava, you in position?"
"Yes sir. The subject is under surveillance. Can I take a shot at her?"
"No. Your mission is reconnaissance. I want you to keep her in your sights as long as possible
however, because it's highly likely that she knows we're here and gunning for her."
"Dammit. Well, murphy's law has just reared its ugly head, hasn't it."
"Yep. Here's another crimp: we have orders to capture her alive and in mostly one piece."
"So I'll have to put away my sniper rifle and use that electro-grapple? Shit. You know that
the thing only has a range of six feet. By the time I'm that close, she'll have filled me with enough
metal to start a scrap drive."
"Well, we'll have to do our best. Remind me to give all the surviving members a pay raise of
about thirty percent when we get back home. Be careful. After all, you're our only medic."
"All right, sir. Check in at about Eight in the morning. Over and out." The radio went dead,
and the commander smiled as he visualized his only female member keeping a sharp watch on the
subject's house.
Jose's Mansion, 6:30 AM
"Hey Jess, d'you wanna know what really torques me off?"
"What 17? If you haven't noticed, when I'm adjusting the sights on a gun, I don't need to be
bothered." Jess put a small screwdriver into a pocket on the pseudo-military fatigues she was
wearing, then checked the scope on the rifle she was sighting in. Jacking a round into the chamber,
she fired at the circular target two hundred yards away and was rewarded with a hole right where she
wanted. "Jose. That stunted little ho-bitch probably has cameras hidden in every room of this place
occupied by females, and he'd try and sneak into the ladies room as well."
"So, that's part of the reason why you tossed him into the freezer a few days ago?"
"Yep. That and I wanted out of here so I can kill the other thorn in my ass."
"What's really weird is that you haven't been your usual, unpredictable psychotic self for the
last few weeks."
"Really? Maybe you're a moderating influence on me?" M-17 and Jess chuckled and cleaned
the guns they had been firing at the human-shaped targets near the sighting range. Both targets had
been pummelled by twenty bullets apiece, and both had tight groups of holes over where a person's
heart would be, with a few scattered in the targets at head level.
"Probably. Can you pass the cleaning solvent? I'm going to be using this thing soon, and want
to make sure it's not that badly fouled."
"Yeah, here." 17 tossed the small bottle over to Jess, then finished wiping down the blued
steel of the BAR's barrel. "This gun is amazing. Now I know why the allied infantry was so nasty."
"That's not the half of it. When you have the time, take a look through the multimedia library
for some video clips of those things in action. The people who used these were reputed to be totally
fearless, and some stood up in the line of fire for fun."
"There must've been a lot of Darwin Awards handed out during that timeframe."
"Yep. C'mon, we want to find a nice hunting spot before the city wakes up too much, and it'll
take us half an hour to drive in." Jess grinned and put the rifle in a padded carrying case, which she
closed after putting two boxes of heavy slugs into cutouts in the foam. M-17 did the same with the
BAR, adding a belt of about five hundred rounds of depleted-uranium slugs for added punch. Just as
the two were finishing their preparations, the one little hassle that both hated popped into the room.
"Hello you two. Your little excursion's been delayed until tonight."
"What the hell are you drivelling about Jose? We've been planning this bit since I got my arm
in the cast, and now that the piece of plaster is off, we're gonna have some fun."
"I told you, change of plans. We need someone to get a package from where the observatory
was, and you two are the best candidates."
"In your ear runt."
"Kinky. Get going, and I'll give you some additional ammunition as well as the stuff you
have." Jose pulled a key from a chain around his neck and waved it at the two women. Both
recognised it as the armoury key, but Jess clutched her stomach and started laughing. Jose frowned
as M-17 chuckled and Jess pulled an identical key from one of her pockets.
"Sucker. I had a copy of that key made less than a year ago. Anyhow, we're off after we
change into something that doesn't stand out like a bruised thumb." Jess and 17 grabbed their
weapons cases, walked out of the room together, and went into their separate rooms to change into
semi-casual clothes. Soon, they reappeared, Jess wearing cargo pants and a black sweater, which hid
at least two pistols and several loaded magazines for all her guns.
M-17 was wearing black leather pants, tanktop and trenchcoat, all of which were hiding
several knives and at least one gun. They still had their gun cases, but Jess raided the armoury for
several grenades, silencers for her pistols, and at least ten blocks of C-4 plastique. After they had
stashed all the equipment in the jeep they were using, Jess hopped into the driver's seat, 17 got into
the passenger side, flipping off Jose, and they peeled out of the car park, deliberately aiming to try
and squash Jose's foot with the car's tires.
They succeeded, and were chased from the park by the runt's yowls of pain. The two grinned,
Jess turned on the radio, and they drove towards the awakening city, trading jokes about Jose's
obvious problems.
Sara's House, 8:00 AM
Sara groaned as she realized that she had to be at the school in just under twenty minutes, and
rubbed her bloodshot eyes. Sighing, she gathered up the six letters she had written in her rather neat
handwriting, and addressed them to CyberSix, Tony, Lucas, and Erin. The last two she left
unaddressed, but one she simply wrote 'Obituary' on it, and the other was a legal will.
Sara gathered together the addressed letters, and, after getting dressed in jeans and a tube top,
despite the cool weather, Sara put all four into her coat pocket, and decided to walk to school,
despite the obvious dangers that would place her in. As a precaution, she strapped her knife to the
small of her back, keeping it hidden underneath her shirt.
Sara actually decided to stop off at Dr. Zack's place first and give him the letter that she had
written for him, but had to wait for several minutes for him to appear. When he did however, Sara
neatly ambushed him by tapping him on the shoulder. "Hello Tony. Didja sleep at all last night, or
were you busy trying to decipher one of those Gauss pistols?"
"Actually, I've had the police crawling over my front yard since One in the morning. Also,
just to add insult to injury, my security system had to be shut down to keep the cops from being
perforated."
"Well, that's better than being slapped with murder charges. After all, it was justifiable self-
defence. In my case however, I'm going to be nailed to a wall by exposing one of my aces to those
buggers."
"Hey, stop with the doom-and-gloom mood Sara. So, why are you walking to school instead
of using that coronary inducement system you call a motorbike?"
"Exercise mainly, but I also wanted to give you this." Sara handed over the letter addressed
to Dr. Zack, and let him look at the small letters underneath his name.
"To open upon the event of your death or disappearance? Why in the name of god are you
giving me this?"
"Precaution. I know that I'm going to get hurt when the spec-ops team comes for me, and
I don't know how badly. As a result, my close friends are getting a letter each. If I'm still alive and
mostly in one piece at the end of the year, burn it."
"Okay. You win. Who else is getting the letters?"
"Lucas, Erin, and Cyb. Also, I'm not coming into school tomorrow, so most of my students
get extra homework today."
"They'll enjoy that. If you show up on Thursday, will you be able to continue your faculty
lessons in aikido? I sat in on one a few weeks ago and found it intensely interesting."
"I noticed. Was that the one where Lucas was used as the practice dummy, or when Mr.
Tilman fell over and just couldn't get back up?"
"The Tilman incident. I can't believe that the pompous, overweight blowhard tried to pull off
a block and sweep move, especially because he can't see his own feet." Sara laughed at the
description of the principal, and nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, that was pretty pathetic. It took four of us to get him back onto his feet, and he
instantly tried to tear a strip out of the rest of us. Well, looks like we get to deal with our classes soon
enough."
"True. See you in the afternoon. By the way, if you want Cyb to talk to you I'll leave her a
message."
"Thanks Tony. Well, it's time to face the music and try to survive another day in the school.
Hope Lori doesn't try to lace your coffee with Ex-Lax."
"She only tried that once, and I caught it because I drink tea instead."
"True. I'll probably see you after school."
"See you later Sara." Tony walked into the front doors of the school, the letter sticking out
of his coat pocket. Sara followed soon after, pausing for a few seconds just outside of the door as
she felt a prickling sensation all the way down her back. She shrugged it off for the moment, however,
and continued into her regular day.
Soon, before her first class, she exposed her sense of humour by placing a dead rat on Lori's
seat. When Lori sat down for the class, she instantly became the butt of all the jokes for the morning.
Lori didn't take well to the prank, but she didn't have much of a choice because it revealed that Sara
was seemingly healthier than she had been the previous week. After Sara revealed the rat to be made
of rubber, Lori took the joke for what it was and put the potato she was holding aside.
Erin watched the entire proceedings from her usual perch at the back of the classroom, and
couldn't help but smile as Sara went through every student presentation without even yawning.
However, she was surprised when, on the break between the double period, Sara asked to talk to her
for a few minutes. Erin agreed, and they let the rest of the class clear out before Sara spoke up.
"Well, I'm not one for beating around the bush. Here." Sara handed over Erin's letter, then
watched as Erin studied the note.
"Why the hell are you giving me this? I think you're closer to Cyb or Lucas than me."
"Not true. Lucas knows next to nothing about me, but he is getting one as well. Tony's
already gotten his, and Cyb will get hers tonight."
"Okay then. But still, why? You're not gonna croak anytime soon, and If anyone tries to mess
you up, you'd rip their balls off."
"Not exactly, but true. Actually, I'm more concerned about my friends than about myself. Go
out and have fun sometime later. Hell, I'd pay for the pizza, but I'm gonna be busy all night."
Erin frowned at the quiet dismissal in Sara's voice, and tucked the letter into her backpack.
Then, she went out to her five-minute break to get a pop, despite the rules against food and drinks
in the science wing.
Outside of the School, 12:10 PM
The observer was actually lying down on a flat rooftop about two hundred yards from the
school grounds when he saw the objective. *Yep, about five-eight, seems to be a bit lighter than
stated in the dossier. Long reddish-black hair... that matches. Hello, what's this?* He scaled the zoom
on his binoculars to get a closer look at the person's face, and saw some red lines on her right cheek.
*Odd. That's not hair, and I don't think she has scars on her face, but the info is out-of-date. Looks
like her hobby backfired on her. Yeah, those scars on her arms match up. We have contact!*
The observer turned on his radio and contacted his commander, back in the warehouse. "Sir,
we have confirmed contact with the subject. Apparently, she's a teacher of some sort at the local high
school, and has forged friendships with several students, along with a least two teachers there. You
want me to collect her?"
"No. We do not want to reveal ourselves again. Keep an eye on her, and tally a list of people
who seem to be relatively close to her as well as their physical descriptions. Over and Out." Growling
slightly, the observer turned off his radio and refocused on the subject with his high-power binoculars,
just in time to see a slim, black-haired man walk up to the subject and strike up a conversation.
*Damn I wish I had brought a parabolic microphone. I can barely read what the subject's saying.*
The observer was madly writing down what he was translating from his lip-reading, and when
he looked at the transcription, only about half the words were intelligible. *Well, she was saying
something about a letter, but who's this 'Cyb' she referred to a few times? Also, why the hell would
she stay at home tomorrow? Maybe she's found us out, and is preparing for a fight. I'd love to try
and investigate, but my mission is to keep this dump under observation until tonight.*
The observer, venting his frustration at his inability to put a bullet through the subject's head,
stood up, walked over to the other side of the apartment he had appropriated, and viciously kicked
the two corpses there repeatedly in the chests. He smiled as he listened to the crushed ribs sliding
loosely around in the bodies, making soft squishing noises as more blood dribbled out of the shattered
heads, quickly being absorbed by the shag carpet.
The observer quickly returned to his post, and swore silently as he realized that the subject
had disappeared and the yard was empty. He updated the commander on the situation, and got a
recall order as a response.
Sara's House, 7:45 PM
Sara had just opened her safe and was retrieving her cut-down AT gun for a long-overdue
cleaning when she heard the window slide open. "Hello Six. Why didn't you use the back door?"
"Boredom mainly. That and I really want to find out why you're giving out these letters."
"Precautions. I told Tony the same thing. Now, you want yours or not?"
"Fine. I'll take it, but only to make you happy."
"You don't know the half of it. Now, where did I put it?" Sara put the gun down and flipped
through the pile of papers she had put on the night-table next to the now-dim vial of sustenance that
had been collecting dust for the last six months. Soon, she found the requisite letter, and gave it to
her friend. "Here Y'go. I hope you have a good night. I'll be busy for the rest of the night, as well
as tomorrow. On Wednesday, don't be surprised if there are a lot of explosions rolling about the
city."
"Thanks for the warning. Be careful."
"Damn right I will. Now scoot, I'm not gonna spend much on pleasantries when cleaning a
gun, and especially when I'm also gonna be cleaning some pointy objects afterwards."
"Bye Sara. Maybe I'll see you later tonight."
"I'd like that. If you come back in a few hours, I'll have the worst of the work behind me."
Six left by the window, leaving only the faint flutter of her cape behind her. Sara grinned and
continued cleaning her gun, making sure that there were no chemical deposits that could throw off
her aim. After she finished with the long and involved cleaning, Sara collected about twenty of her
AP rounds for the gun and carefully fixed some horrible noisemaking arrangements to each slug.
*Well, I just took a page from the history books. A couple of these moaning minnies should
keep their heads down, and get their trenches much deeper by the morning.* Sara chuckled as she
finished putting the noisemakers on the shells, then, just to make sure they worked, she loaded an
extra into her gun through the breech, and aimed out of the open window, bracing herself for the
massive recoil.
Sara slowly squeezed the trigger, and was nearly knocked off her feet by the massive blast.
The four and a half foot long muzzle blast left a long scorch mark up the wall as the gun jerked
upwards, but the slug went flying out the window, and instead of the usual whistling THOOMP of
a normal shot, it was making horrible howls, groans, whistles, and other sundry noises that could best
be described as the legions of hell howling in agony.
As an instant result, she saw every light go on in the immediate vicinity, and heard about ten
car alarms start howling as well. "My god. I think it's brown pants time for most anyone who heard
that thing. Ow. My ears are killing me! Well, that's what'll happen for a while on Wednesday. I hope
the people won't mind too much." Sara ejected the empty cartridge, revealing that the brass casing
was heavily scorched and blackened from the incredible heat produced by the powder charge that had
been fired off.
She then gathered several empty magazines for her gun, and carefully loaded one moaner into
the first slot before randomly filling in the remaining four slots with either High-Ex or AP slugs. Soon,
the twenty magazines were loaded, and Sara slapped one into her gun, chambering a round before
flicking on the safety. She then reached under the back of her shirt, removed her knife, and cleaned
the blade with a weak acid solution. She did the same with her sword ten minutes later, taking
immense care not to get nicked on the razor-sharp edge.
After the weapon cleaning was finished, Sara went into her basement room, and instead of
grabbing her usual mix of cards, she collected sixty Chem-Ex cards as well as fifteen smokers. Sara
put the collection of explosives into the belt pouch, which was sitting beside the table in the basement.
She finally collected her cape, which had been collecting dust since her first run-in with M-17.
She brought up both items, and left the pouch sitting on the small chair where she had been
sitting for three hours as she had modified her ammunition and cleaned her weapons. Sara then
looked at herself in the mirror, grinned, and put on the gold and ruby pendant which controlled her
armour. Sara activated the armour after closing her drapes, so nobody could look inside as she
checked out all the modes.
The most dormant mode, the belt, changed into a scale leotard as Sara dictated the actions
of her almost unique suit. She then turned it into its peacetime mode, making her entire body except
for her face immune to up to 20mm weapons fire. She switched to combat, allowing the armour to
cover her face, leaving only her eyes clear and exposed. Then, she tried out the remaining five modes.
The weapons extruded from her right and left wrists, and Sara checked out the workings of the
twenty-foot whip and three-foot spike.
Ironically, she recognised both weapons as what had been used to kill the airport controllers
yesterday, then checked out her high-defence mode. The armour rippled, making both weapons
retract into her wrists before it thickened across her chest, head, and thighs. The extreme defence
could block 2-inch slugs without problem, but inhibited her mobility and jumping distance.
Finally, Sara checked out her chameleonic mode, which had the primary drawback of trying
to fry her synapses at a greatly accelerated rate. When the armour revealed to her that it had produced
an almost-identical copy of her wall's colour, Sara grinned and told her armour to shut down through
the sub-vocal microphone. As her armour reverted to its belt form, Sara rummaged through her night-
table and pulled out a brace for her right wrist with three small crystals set into the heavy material.
Finally, with her AT gun sitting on her table, the sword leaning beside it, her dagger leaning
against the mirror, and the pouch of explosives and smokescreens sitting on the chair, Sara lay down
in bed, used a remote to turn off her lights, and fell asleep. However, she spent a restless night,
tossing and turning before waking up at Six in the morning, bathed in sweat and wild-eyed.