Angel Park, 12:27 AM
"Report Ivonava."
"Yes sir. There's been no action in the area pertaining to the subject since she left to her day
job with the Doctor this morning. When she got back, at approximately 1600, she disappeared for
several hours, and someone wearing a cape and black hat simply jumped onto the roof of her house
from the lawn without any assistance.
"I didn't believe it at the time, but the subject's accomplice left in the same style, giving me
a clear view of what the subject was doing. I have the entire three hours on tape including her
weapons test at 23:21."
"Weapons test? What did she use?" The commander leaned in to look at the small video
screen hooked up to the recording system, and put on a pair of headphones to listen in to the resultant
sounds. He watched the screen as Sara appeared at the window, lifted a large weapon, and fired a
single shot, which produced a muzzle flash large enough to compete with the streetlights for
brightness, and launched a hideous noisemaker that set the commander's teeth on edge.
"Now that's a page from the history books. It looks like she's using a modified version of a
German Nebelwerfer, commonly nicknamed the 'Moaning Minnie'."
"Sir, weren't the Nebelwerfers ten-inch mortars that weighed almost two hundred pounds
apiece?"
"Damn. You're right McDonald. She can't have one of those monsters, but what does she
have?" The commander frowned, but parcelled out the order engagements for the rest of the day.
First, all the people on observation duty got rotated to a random site, so the observer who had
watched the school yesterday got to watch the subject's house today.
Everyone else had standing orders to dial down the gauss pistols further by the addition, and
despite some grumbling about the pistols being weaker than some conventional weapons now, the
orders were carried out. Then the team dispersed to their tasks with the commander helping out
where necessary.
Sara's House, 5:54 AM
Sara woke up, bathed in a cold sweat. The only thing that came from her throat was a
strangled gasp, but she soon calmed down. Her heart, which had imitated a deranged pinball by
hammering wildly at the inside of her chest, went back to its normal pace of fifty bpm. Sara mentally
retrieved the dream that had awakened her, and soon began to shudder uncontrollably as the strange
dream reappeared inside her mind.
Running around inside her head were a few images that were actually comforting, mainly of
her grandparents and the good times they had, but the images soon changed to quick flashes of all
the people she had killed, directly or indirectly. The first few were indistinct, but the next grouping
was clear and very disgusting in the detail focussing on their wounds, many of which were caused by
high-caliber weapons.
The third set of images were the ones that set several tears crawling down Sara's face, as she
saw the pale faces of all the children from the orphanage, her grandparents, and a young child, barely
old enough to crawl. Sara's shoulders shook, tears spilling down her face as she mentally viewed
every contour of the one jewel in her life, taken brutally at the tender age of eight months.
Several minutes later, Sara had calmed down, and she got up. She looked at the disarray of
her room, and sighed slightly as she removed her dirty shirt and pants, which were tossed into a
wicker basket near where the safe reposed behind the Lesbian Gardener. She changed into a loose
T-shirt and casual jeans, which, depending on the airspeed of the area either hid her figure or
enhanced it, making every member of the male gender run the risk of lightheadedness and massive
nosebleeds.
She called up the school at Six-Thirty, and said that she couldn't come in today or tomorrow.
She then had breakfast, easily devouring a bowl of Corn Flakes with a glass of orange juice and some
toast. After her meal and the subsequent washing of the used dishes, Sara went into the back room
with the washer and dryer, where she collected a small cardboard box with two photo albums in it.
She went into her living room, and opened the first album to the oldest pictures, which were
those of Sara at Ten, with her grandparents. All three were sitting around a small kitchen table,
making a cake that read 'Happy Birthday Mom!' in red icing. The second picture was of Sara and her
grandfather sitting on a wooden dock, apparently fishing for the denizens of the pond that had been
about fifty yards from the old house that had eventually turned into an orphanage.
Sara closed the book quickly, remembering every other picture inside the large tome. She
opened the second one, and the first picture was of her, about six years younger, wearing a hospital
gown and holding a tiny baby. The Sara in the picture hadn't been mutilated by grenade shrapnel, and
was wearing a simple golden ring on her right hand. She was also grinning from ear to ear, despite
being covered in sweat and looking like she had pulled an all-nighter.
Sara removed the picture from the clips that held it in the book, and flipped the glossy photo
over so she could read the fine print on the back. The writing was simple, but said more than anything
else could. 'Selina Del Naryen-Valentine, with our newest member, Sebena Rosa-Jean. January 15,
1996.' Sara looked at the writing, and didn't notice the tears that pattered onto the pressed fibre
backing of the picture.
*I'm so sorry Sebena. I tried everything, but I just couldn't help.* Sara remembered
everything that had happened on the fateful week, almost six years ago. She had just gotten home
from her job, and saw that her house had been broken into. She stormed in, mentally summoning all
her skills at Karate to make sure that the jewel of her life was still alright. Instead, she collected a very
large lump to the back of her head from an unknown assailant, several hours of unconsciousness, and
a ransom note.
The note had asked for several million dollars, with the addendum that if the sum was not
supplied by a neutral party, Sara's daughter would be returned in thumb-sized pieces instead of one
piece. Sara convinced her spouse to use some counterfeit money that the police had collected in a
sting operation several weeks ago, and one of her spouse's friends handed over the money. However,
the kidnappers had already killed Sebena.
When the money had been handed over, the kidnapper's representative handed over a small
bundle: Sebena's headless body. The autopsy said that not only had Sebena's body been horribly
beaten, but she had been sexually violated by her abductors. At the time, only one person in the
country would do something like that, and Sara went on vendetta for the first time in her life.
She spent several weeks planning what she would do, and when her spouse had been killed
by a punk trying to avoid a traffic ticket, she had free reign to do what she wanted after the funerals.
Eventually, with the assistance of one gun, fifteen knives, and some special equipment, Sara got her
hands on the person who had killed her daughter. He was found several days later, skinned, genitals
cut off and stuffed into his mouth, and with knives inserted alphabetically into his vital organs.
Sara flashed back to reality, and put the photo down. She turned the page in the album, and
looked at the picture of two headstones beside each other. The smaller one simply said 'Sebena Rosa-
Jean Valentine. B. Jan. 15, 1996 D. Sept. 10, 1996.' The large stone on the left side also had some
writing on it, and it said 'James Duran Valentine. B. Aug. 20, 1970 D. Oct. 15, 1996.'
Sara closed the album, put it, with its twin, back into the cardboard box, which was then
replaced above the dryer. She went back into her bedroom, and checked out all her equipment twice
just to make sure that nothing was going to break when she used it. Sara finally realized that she
needed to get some more wires to finish her ensemble. She picked up her cellular phone, too lazy, or
too cautious to use the hardwired phone to make her planned call.
Sara dialled the number, and glad that it was past eight, she also tapped in the extension for
Dr. Zack's classroom. The number went through quickly, and she got an answer in only three rings.
"Hello?"
"Hey Tony. I was looking through my stuff and noticed that I'm running low on some high-
tensile wire. Do you know where I could root some out?"
"Actually, I'm selling synthetic spider webbing at twelve dollars a metre. How many metres
would you like, and at what time?"
"Hold on a sec. First, synthetic webbing? Second, what's its tensile strength? And third,
because I need it ASAP, do you have any lying around your house?"
"Yes, the webbing is synthetic. I produced a chemical mix remotely based on the process to
create nylon thread to create webbing that is approximately nine times stronger than tempered steel.
Also, I have a thirty-metre spool sitting in my closet, and I'll accept payment whenever you can get
around to it."
"Hell, I'll leave some cash on that small table you have near your front door. That okay?"
"All right. Be careful, and I'll see you about."
"Tony, if you hear twenty repeats of what happened last night, go to the crater northeast of
the city."
"Twenty? Of that horrible howling? What do you have, a mortar?"
"No. I fixed some noisemakers to some specialized slugs for my heavy gun. Just trust me on
this. If you hear them, hightail it to the crater. Bring Cyb, Erin, and maybe Lucas as well. Oh yes,
when that happens, call in a tip about the airport murders, stating that the killer will be there as well."
"Alright, I'll do as you ask. I hope you get out of this in one piece."
"So do I. Goodbye Tony." Sara disconnected her cellphone, turning off the power to the small
machine. She then walked over to Tony's house, let the camera hidden in his doorframe identify her
from its stored database, and activated the thumbprint scanner where a doorbell would normally be.
After going through the security measures to get inside, Sara collected the spool of pale white thread,
and left three hundred dollars on the small table beside the door.
She then left Dr. Zack's house, letting the security system go back to its dormant lockdown
of the entire house. Sara also noted, with some amusement, that the signs saying 'keep off the grass'
had been altered with a postscript: 'The hard water is fairly painful', which was pretty low on the
scale of good taste.
Sara noticed something near the shoulder of the angel statue, but didn't decide to investigate.
That decision had minimal impact on the rest of the day, but proved to have a great impact as time
went by. Sara had a very uneventful day for the rest of the morning and afternoon, despite the fact
that she spent most of that time with her arms up to their elbows in engine oil and grease as she took
apart and rebuilt her motorbike's engine.
North of Angel Park, 2:30 PM
M-17 and Jess looked around the slightly rundown tenement building whose top floor they
had appropriated, and the two simultaneously curled their lips at the resounding array of stenches that
seemed to have produced a solid wall around the brownstone. The two held their mutual breath as
they walked into the building, carrying their gun cases.
The building superintendent noticed the two young women, and after spit-shining his hair to
try and look less like a pregnant toad, he walked up to them with an overly officious manner literally
oozing from his pores. "Well, who might you be?"
"Some people who want to be left alone." Jess shot back, barely keeping her temper under
control as she smelled something approximating rotten eggs being fried in rancid grease waft around
the medium-sized room.
"Fine, fine. I'll just give you the key to the room you want, and let you have your fun." M-17
snarled at the super's leer, and cracked her knuckles one by one.
"Okay, I got the fucking point! Here's your key." The super handed over the small metal key,
connected to a plastic tag that smelled like it had been in the obese man's back pocket all month. The
two climbed up the stairs, not trusting the elevator even if their lives depended on it, and being forced
to avoid dog turds, garbage bags, and other examples of vileness, both were quite ready to just go
on a killing spree through the entire building and get rid of the producers of such toxic substances.
Instead, the two got into the room, which overlooked the park, and simply knocked out two
windows, sending shards of glass raining into the street eight floors below, before setting up their
heavy weapons. Then, after 17 made a very unpleasant discovery, the disgruntled teen went down
to the super's office, forced him to go into their room, and made him clean the bathroom at
knifepoint.
Then, the two settled down for a day of watching for the thorn that had wreaked havoc in the
area for the last few months.
Sara's house, 8:00 PM
By the time Eight in the evening had rolled around, Sara was looking more like a grease-
covered dwarf instead of a fairly reputable teacher and semi-retired bounty hunter. At that point, she
simply hid in the bathtub for about two hours, which slowly changed from clear water to a murky
grey, covered with an oily sheen. After Sara had drained the tub twice to remove the excess oil and
grease, she deemed herself to be human again, and knew she was about to shaft her adversaries by
taking the fight to them.
She went into her room, pulled on a tanktop and a pair of boxers, and started to strap on her
weapons belts. Her knife went on first, strapped to her right calf in a way that could allow her to pull
it on the run. The strap that acted as a holster for her AT gun went on her left leg in the same manner,
allowing the heavy gun to slap freely against her leg as she finished putting on the card pouch and
ammunition belt.
Sara finally activated her armour, setting it to peacetime mode so she could move her head
freely when putting her other equipment on. She put the small brace on her right wrist, and when her
armour's scales covered everything except the three gems, all three blinked to life, revealing that the
colours were green, red and black. Sara dredged up her memories about the three gems, and
grimaced.
*Yep, the green one is my brainwave feedback scanner. When that one starts to turn yellow,
I'd better shut this stuff down for a few minutes. The red one is a gauge for remaining power in the
suit, and it's currently saying that everything is at full power. I'm not surprised at that. This thing
seems to feed off of my kinetic energy. Finally, the black one is what I'm worried about. When this
thing starts blinking, my suit's being jammed somehow, and I'm screwed.*
Sara finally slung her sword over her shoulder, allowing the long blade to shift diagonally for
some mobility. After the sword was settled, Sara then put on her armour's cape, allowing the 25 foot
long material to settle loosely around her body like a wrapper. She turned off the lights in her house,
opened her bedroom window, and climbed out onto her porch.
Sara jumped into the park, deliberately keeping low, but trying to keep away from the pools
of light cast by the occasional car and street lamp. Sara told her armour to shift to fully active,
covering her face with the defensive scales. She neared the statue in the centre of the park and heard
a noise above her when she landed in the hollow created by the angel's lower arm.
Sara looked up, saw a glint of metal above her as something shifted slightly, and decided to
piss off the spec-ops team by taking out one of their own. Moving very slowly, trying to keep from
making noise, Sara pulled out her heavy gun and flipped off the safety. She then gathered her
strength, crouched for a second, and jumped far into the air, creating a blur in front of the surprised
trooper.
She tracked her target as he looked up, and as her ascension began to slow down, she opened
fire. The first three shots from the bolt-action gun missed completely, sending the three AP slugs to
burrow into the angel's shoulder like maggots into dead flesh, sending stone chips flying. The fourth
slug, a Chem-Ex shell, slammed into the trooper's chest as he was aiming his own weapon at her. The
shell was stopped by the thickened armour on his chest, but exploded on impact, sending him flying
backwards over the angel's shoulder.
The last shell, one of the moaning minnies, howled like a banshee, the inhuman wail rising and
falling until the modified slug slammed into the top of the trooper's left shoulder, messily amputating
his arm before burrowing into his chest cavity and turning his heart into a blood-flavoured slurpee.
The trooper's corpse continued on its death dive, soon landing near the left heel of the angel with a
hideous crunch, signifying that the trooper's spine had compressed itself by about ten inches by
moving some excess vertebrae into the poor man's skull, thoroughly scrambling his brains.
Sara landed lightly where the trooper had stood, and used her right hand to massage her left
arm. *Ouch. I'm not surprised about the recoil, but I'm surprised that I managed to fire this thing so
quickly. How'd I manage to fire five shots from a bolt-action gun in just under seven seconds? Even
with a two-in-five hit ratio? I think someone up there likes me.* She ejected the empty cartridge from
her gun, then pulled out and threw away the now-useless magazine. Sara reloaded her gun, put it
back in its loop, and examined the equipment that had survived the quick onslaught.
She noticed a radio that had just turned on, and picked up the handset. "This is Angel's nest
to Dirtpile, subject deceased."
"Who the hell? Wait a second. Selina? It's been a while. How's your husband and daughter?"
"You fucking bastard. You were there at the funerals Vincent. Now, tell me this: why are you
here, especially when you know that I'm only going back in a pine box, and even then, it'll probably
be the size of a matchbox." Vincent chuckled.
"Not quite my dear. Have you forgotten all the good times we had together? I'm going to
make sure you remember right before I splatter you all over the landscape. My friends here are
definitely gonna help as well, especially with the four or five serial rapists that have been very
interested in your dossier."
"You amoral little motherfucker. When I find you, not only are you gonna have your balls cut
off, but I'll make sure you're gonna be singing soprano all the way to the company HQ in New
York." Sara heard Vincent's sharp intake of breath, and chuckled, mocking him. "What? Surprised
that I know where HQ is? Or surprised that I didn't walk in there four years ago and slice up the CEO
for giggles?"
"Actually, I'd have loved it if you had killed that ossified blowhard. He's more of a pain in
my ass that the prisoners I was stuck with for a few years."
"Your own fault for stealing my TV when I was 15. I'll see you soon, molester of
hippopotami..." Sara killed the radio before Vincent could reply, then kicked every contraption from
the angel's shoulder, waiting to hear the satisfying crunches of the machines hitting the raised
concrete pedestal and smashing into unusable circuit boards and metal frames.
Instead of waiting for the typical quick response form the rest of the spec-ops troopers, Sara
jumped north, soon landing heavily on a decaying eight-story tenement. She stumbled slightly on
landing, swearing under her breath as she noticed that she had twisted her ankle from her landing on
the angel's shoulder. Also, the area where she was standing was sagging dangerously, forcing her to
limp around the rooftop for a few precious minutes as her leg recovered from the jolts of pain.
As she watched, Sara noticed several dark forms landing on the angel's shoulders, and she
knew that a few more were on the ground, and had probably had found the horribly mangled corpse
of their comrade. Sara waited for two more minutes, then dropped flat to avoid the expected IR and
NV sweep around the area. However, she didn't expect a volley of machine gun fire from the window
right below her, and nearly vaulted over the low wall into the shooter's lap as a result.
Sara cautiously looked over to where the firing was coming from, and when the volley
suddenly cut out, she first knew that she was shafted because her position had been compromised,
and decided to take a bit of revenge on the person who gave her away. As a result, while the gun was
silent, Sara vaulted over the ledge, keeping one hand firmly latched on the crumbling cement and used
her momentum to smash through what remained of the window, landing feet-first on the gunner inside
the room.
Sara looked down at the person she had just dented the floor with, and cursed loudly for a
second. "YOU! I thought you died!"
"Nope, so eat this." M-17 smiled, despite the difficulty she was having breathing, and wrapped
both of her hands around Sara's right wrist. 17 twisted Sara's wrist around, and giggled madly as she
felt and heard some tendons and ligaments separate themselves from the bones, many of which were
subsequently crushed or shattered by the torsion.
Sara screamed as the pain lanced up her arm and spine, exploding in her mind like a block of
C4. 17 continued to hang onto Sara's wrist, applying greater pressure to the wounded limb, but
stopped when Sara managed to pull her knife free from her boot sheath and pressed the keen edge
against 17's flat midriff. "Let. Go. Now." Sara would have gladly slashed the deranged teen's stomach
open and let her bleed to death from the internal trauma, but Jess had her own gun pointed at Sara's
right temple from just under ten feet away.
"Okay, I'll let go, and just for fun, I'll give you five minutes to get out of here before I come
after you. My friend will also help out, just to double your trouble." 17 released Sara's shattered
wrist, but Jess kept her own rifle aimed at the side of Sara's head.
"You two are small fry. I'll be shooting you later." Sara stood up, keeping her knife pointed
at 17's chest, before jumping out of the window, landing on the next building over for a few seconds
before disappearing into the night, which was now sporadically lit by gunfire to the north and west
sides.
M-17 waited with Jess before following her nemesis, whistling 'Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work
we go.' aggravating her friend. "Hey 17, what's with the happiness all of sudden?"
"Well, our enemy is now wounded, and we have some backup in the area."
"Backup?" Jess raised an eyebrow, then was jolted around by 17's assist to the next roof.
"Yeah. All the gunfire going off at once has been caused by several other technos and types
that I intimidated into helping. Each group has about twenty lumps with them, and the police should
be responding about... now." As 17 finished speaking, the volume of gunfire doubled, with sporadic
explosions thrown in as well.
The two paused, then heard what they were listening for. A piercing howl, which faded into
a bestial whine before creating several groans and squeals set their teeth on edge, but the volume of
firepower being thrown about suddenly paused before redoubling itself, giving the two girls ample
time to find several large shell casings on the next few rooftops.
They followed the longest trail of empty shells and discarded ammunition magazines, catching
glimpses of their quarry, but more often hearing the unnerving howls that seemed to herald a
temporary cessation of the citywide conflict.
"Report Ivonava."
"Yes sir. There's been no action in the area pertaining to the subject since she left to her day
job with the Doctor this morning. When she got back, at approximately 1600, she disappeared for
several hours, and someone wearing a cape and black hat simply jumped onto the roof of her house
from the lawn without any assistance.
"I didn't believe it at the time, but the subject's accomplice left in the same style, giving me
a clear view of what the subject was doing. I have the entire three hours on tape including her
weapons test at 23:21."
"Weapons test? What did she use?" The commander leaned in to look at the small video
screen hooked up to the recording system, and put on a pair of headphones to listen in to the resultant
sounds. He watched the screen as Sara appeared at the window, lifted a large weapon, and fired a
single shot, which produced a muzzle flash large enough to compete with the streetlights for
brightness, and launched a hideous noisemaker that set the commander's teeth on edge.
"Now that's a page from the history books. It looks like she's using a modified version of a
German Nebelwerfer, commonly nicknamed the 'Moaning Minnie'."
"Sir, weren't the Nebelwerfers ten-inch mortars that weighed almost two hundred pounds
apiece?"
"Damn. You're right McDonald. She can't have one of those monsters, but what does she
have?" The commander frowned, but parcelled out the order engagements for the rest of the day.
First, all the people on observation duty got rotated to a random site, so the observer who had
watched the school yesterday got to watch the subject's house today.
Everyone else had standing orders to dial down the gauss pistols further by the addition, and
despite some grumbling about the pistols being weaker than some conventional weapons now, the
orders were carried out. Then the team dispersed to their tasks with the commander helping out
where necessary.
Sara's House, 5:54 AM
Sara woke up, bathed in a cold sweat. The only thing that came from her throat was a
strangled gasp, but she soon calmed down. Her heart, which had imitated a deranged pinball by
hammering wildly at the inside of her chest, went back to its normal pace of fifty bpm. Sara mentally
retrieved the dream that had awakened her, and soon began to shudder uncontrollably as the strange
dream reappeared inside her mind.
Running around inside her head were a few images that were actually comforting, mainly of
her grandparents and the good times they had, but the images soon changed to quick flashes of all
the people she had killed, directly or indirectly. The first few were indistinct, but the next grouping
was clear and very disgusting in the detail focussing on their wounds, many of which were caused by
high-caliber weapons.
The third set of images were the ones that set several tears crawling down Sara's face, as she
saw the pale faces of all the children from the orphanage, her grandparents, and a young child, barely
old enough to crawl. Sara's shoulders shook, tears spilling down her face as she mentally viewed
every contour of the one jewel in her life, taken brutally at the tender age of eight months.
Several minutes later, Sara had calmed down, and she got up. She looked at the disarray of
her room, and sighed slightly as she removed her dirty shirt and pants, which were tossed into a
wicker basket near where the safe reposed behind the Lesbian Gardener. She changed into a loose
T-shirt and casual jeans, which, depending on the airspeed of the area either hid her figure or
enhanced it, making every member of the male gender run the risk of lightheadedness and massive
nosebleeds.
She called up the school at Six-Thirty, and said that she couldn't come in today or tomorrow.
She then had breakfast, easily devouring a bowl of Corn Flakes with a glass of orange juice and some
toast. After her meal and the subsequent washing of the used dishes, Sara went into the back room
with the washer and dryer, where she collected a small cardboard box with two photo albums in it.
She went into her living room, and opened the first album to the oldest pictures, which were
those of Sara at Ten, with her grandparents. All three were sitting around a small kitchen table,
making a cake that read 'Happy Birthday Mom!' in red icing. The second picture was of Sara and her
grandfather sitting on a wooden dock, apparently fishing for the denizens of the pond that had been
about fifty yards from the old house that had eventually turned into an orphanage.
Sara closed the book quickly, remembering every other picture inside the large tome. She
opened the second one, and the first picture was of her, about six years younger, wearing a hospital
gown and holding a tiny baby. The Sara in the picture hadn't been mutilated by grenade shrapnel, and
was wearing a simple golden ring on her right hand. She was also grinning from ear to ear, despite
being covered in sweat and looking like she had pulled an all-nighter.
Sara removed the picture from the clips that held it in the book, and flipped the glossy photo
over so she could read the fine print on the back. The writing was simple, but said more than anything
else could. 'Selina Del Naryen-Valentine, with our newest member, Sebena Rosa-Jean. January 15,
1996.' Sara looked at the writing, and didn't notice the tears that pattered onto the pressed fibre
backing of the picture.
*I'm so sorry Sebena. I tried everything, but I just couldn't help.* Sara remembered
everything that had happened on the fateful week, almost six years ago. She had just gotten home
from her job, and saw that her house had been broken into. She stormed in, mentally summoning all
her skills at Karate to make sure that the jewel of her life was still alright. Instead, she collected a very
large lump to the back of her head from an unknown assailant, several hours of unconsciousness, and
a ransom note.
The note had asked for several million dollars, with the addendum that if the sum was not
supplied by a neutral party, Sara's daughter would be returned in thumb-sized pieces instead of one
piece. Sara convinced her spouse to use some counterfeit money that the police had collected in a
sting operation several weeks ago, and one of her spouse's friends handed over the money. However,
the kidnappers had already killed Sebena.
When the money had been handed over, the kidnapper's representative handed over a small
bundle: Sebena's headless body. The autopsy said that not only had Sebena's body been horribly
beaten, but she had been sexually violated by her abductors. At the time, only one person in the
country would do something like that, and Sara went on vendetta for the first time in her life.
She spent several weeks planning what she would do, and when her spouse had been killed
by a punk trying to avoid a traffic ticket, she had free reign to do what she wanted after the funerals.
Eventually, with the assistance of one gun, fifteen knives, and some special equipment, Sara got her
hands on the person who had killed her daughter. He was found several days later, skinned, genitals
cut off and stuffed into his mouth, and with knives inserted alphabetically into his vital organs.
Sara flashed back to reality, and put the photo down. She turned the page in the album, and
looked at the picture of two headstones beside each other. The smaller one simply said 'Sebena Rosa-
Jean Valentine. B. Jan. 15, 1996 D. Sept. 10, 1996.' The large stone on the left side also had some
writing on it, and it said 'James Duran Valentine. B. Aug. 20, 1970 D. Oct. 15, 1996.'
Sara closed the album, put it, with its twin, back into the cardboard box, which was then
replaced above the dryer. She went back into her bedroom, and checked out all her equipment twice
just to make sure that nothing was going to break when she used it. Sara finally realized that she
needed to get some more wires to finish her ensemble. She picked up her cellular phone, too lazy, or
too cautious to use the hardwired phone to make her planned call.
Sara dialled the number, and glad that it was past eight, she also tapped in the extension for
Dr. Zack's classroom. The number went through quickly, and she got an answer in only three rings.
"Hello?"
"Hey Tony. I was looking through my stuff and noticed that I'm running low on some high-
tensile wire. Do you know where I could root some out?"
"Actually, I'm selling synthetic spider webbing at twelve dollars a metre. How many metres
would you like, and at what time?"
"Hold on a sec. First, synthetic webbing? Second, what's its tensile strength? And third,
because I need it ASAP, do you have any lying around your house?"
"Yes, the webbing is synthetic. I produced a chemical mix remotely based on the process to
create nylon thread to create webbing that is approximately nine times stronger than tempered steel.
Also, I have a thirty-metre spool sitting in my closet, and I'll accept payment whenever you can get
around to it."
"Hell, I'll leave some cash on that small table you have near your front door. That okay?"
"All right. Be careful, and I'll see you about."
"Tony, if you hear twenty repeats of what happened last night, go to the crater northeast of
the city."
"Twenty? Of that horrible howling? What do you have, a mortar?"
"No. I fixed some noisemakers to some specialized slugs for my heavy gun. Just trust me on
this. If you hear them, hightail it to the crater. Bring Cyb, Erin, and maybe Lucas as well. Oh yes,
when that happens, call in a tip about the airport murders, stating that the killer will be there as well."
"Alright, I'll do as you ask. I hope you get out of this in one piece."
"So do I. Goodbye Tony." Sara disconnected her cellphone, turning off the power to the small
machine. She then walked over to Tony's house, let the camera hidden in his doorframe identify her
from its stored database, and activated the thumbprint scanner where a doorbell would normally be.
After going through the security measures to get inside, Sara collected the spool of pale white thread,
and left three hundred dollars on the small table beside the door.
She then left Dr. Zack's house, letting the security system go back to its dormant lockdown
of the entire house. Sara also noted, with some amusement, that the signs saying 'keep off the grass'
had been altered with a postscript: 'The hard water is fairly painful', which was pretty low on the
scale of good taste.
Sara noticed something near the shoulder of the angel statue, but didn't decide to investigate.
That decision had minimal impact on the rest of the day, but proved to have a great impact as time
went by. Sara had a very uneventful day for the rest of the morning and afternoon, despite the fact
that she spent most of that time with her arms up to their elbows in engine oil and grease as she took
apart and rebuilt her motorbike's engine.
North of Angel Park, 2:30 PM
M-17 and Jess looked around the slightly rundown tenement building whose top floor they
had appropriated, and the two simultaneously curled their lips at the resounding array of stenches that
seemed to have produced a solid wall around the brownstone. The two held their mutual breath as
they walked into the building, carrying their gun cases.
The building superintendent noticed the two young women, and after spit-shining his hair to
try and look less like a pregnant toad, he walked up to them with an overly officious manner literally
oozing from his pores. "Well, who might you be?"
"Some people who want to be left alone." Jess shot back, barely keeping her temper under
control as she smelled something approximating rotten eggs being fried in rancid grease waft around
the medium-sized room.
"Fine, fine. I'll just give you the key to the room you want, and let you have your fun." M-17
snarled at the super's leer, and cracked her knuckles one by one.
"Okay, I got the fucking point! Here's your key." The super handed over the small metal key,
connected to a plastic tag that smelled like it had been in the obese man's back pocket all month. The
two climbed up the stairs, not trusting the elevator even if their lives depended on it, and being forced
to avoid dog turds, garbage bags, and other examples of vileness, both were quite ready to just go
on a killing spree through the entire building and get rid of the producers of such toxic substances.
Instead, the two got into the room, which overlooked the park, and simply knocked out two
windows, sending shards of glass raining into the street eight floors below, before setting up their
heavy weapons. Then, after 17 made a very unpleasant discovery, the disgruntled teen went down
to the super's office, forced him to go into their room, and made him clean the bathroom at
knifepoint.
Then, the two settled down for a day of watching for the thorn that had wreaked havoc in the
area for the last few months.
Sara's house, 8:00 PM
By the time Eight in the evening had rolled around, Sara was looking more like a grease-
covered dwarf instead of a fairly reputable teacher and semi-retired bounty hunter. At that point, she
simply hid in the bathtub for about two hours, which slowly changed from clear water to a murky
grey, covered with an oily sheen. After Sara had drained the tub twice to remove the excess oil and
grease, she deemed herself to be human again, and knew she was about to shaft her adversaries by
taking the fight to them.
She went into her room, pulled on a tanktop and a pair of boxers, and started to strap on her
weapons belts. Her knife went on first, strapped to her right calf in a way that could allow her to pull
it on the run. The strap that acted as a holster for her AT gun went on her left leg in the same manner,
allowing the heavy gun to slap freely against her leg as she finished putting on the card pouch and
ammunition belt.
Sara finally activated her armour, setting it to peacetime mode so she could move her head
freely when putting her other equipment on. She put the small brace on her right wrist, and when her
armour's scales covered everything except the three gems, all three blinked to life, revealing that the
colours were green, red and black. Sara dredged up her memories about the three gems, and
grimaced.
*Yep, the green one is my brainwave feedback scanner. When that one starts to turn yellow,
I'd better shut this stuff down for a few minutes. The red one is a gauge for remaining power in the
suit, and it's currently saying that everything is at full power. I'm not surprised at that. This thing
seems to feed off of my kinetic energy. Finally, the black one is what I'm worried about. When this
thing starts blinking, my suit's being jammed somehow, and I'm screwed.*
Sara finally slung her sword over her shoulder, allowing the long blade to shift diagonally for
some mobility. After the sword was settled, Sara then put on her armour's cape, allowing the 25 foot
long material to settle loosely around her body like a wrapper. She turned off the lights in her house,
opened her bedroom window, and climbed out onto her porch.
Sara jumped into the park, deliberately keeping low, but trying to keep away from the pools
of light cast by the occasional car and street lamp. Sara told her armour to shift to fully active,
covering her face with the defensive scales. She neared the statue in the centre of the park and heard
a noise above her when she landed in the hollow created by the angel's lower arm.
Sara looked up, saw a glint of metal above her as something shifted slightly, and decided to
piss off the spec-ops team by taking out one of their own. Moving very slowly, trying to keep from
making noise, Sara pulled out her heavy gun and flipped off the safety. She then gathered her
strength, crouched for a second, and jumped far into the air, creating a blur in front of the surprised
trooper.
She tracked her target as he looked up, and as her ascension began to slow down, she opened
fire. The first three shots from the bolt-action gun missed completely, sending the three AP slugs to
burrow into the angel's shoulder like maggots into dead flesh, sending stone chips flying. The fourth
slug, a Chem-Ex shell, slammed into the trooper's chest as he was aiming his own weapon at her. The
shell was stopped by the thickened armour on his chest, but exploded on impact, sending him flying
backwards over the angel's shoulder.
The last shell, one of the moaning minnies, howled like a banshee, the inhuman wail rising and
falling until the modified slug slammed into the top of the trooper's left shoulder, messily amputating
his arm before burrowing into his chest cavity and turning his heart into a blood-flavoured slurpee.
The trooper's corpse continued on its death dive, soon landing near the left heel of the angel with a
hideous crunch, signifying that the trooper's spine had compressed itself by about ten inches by
moving some excess vertebrae into the poor man's skull, thoroughly scrambling his brains.
Sara landed lightly where the trooper had stood, and used her right hand to massage her left
arm. *Ouch. I'm not surprised about the recoil, but I'm surprised that I managed to fire this thing so
quickly. How'd I manage to fire five shots from a bolt-action gun in just under seven seconds? Even
with a two-in-five hit ratio? I think someone up there likes me.* She ejected the empty cartridge from
her gun, then pulled out and threw away the now-useless magazine. Sara reloaded her gun, put it
back in its loop, and examined the equipment that had survived the quick onslaught.
She noticed a radio that had just turned on, and picked up the handset. "This is Angel's nest
to Dirtpile, subject deceased."
"Who the hell? Wait a second. Selina? It's been a while. How's your husband and daughter?"
"You fucking bastard. You were there at the funerals Vincent. Now, tell me this: why are you
here, especially when you know that I'm only going back in a pine box, and even then, it'll probably
be the size of a matchbox." Vincent chuckled.
"Not quite my dear. Have you forgotten all the good times we had together? I'm going to
make sure you remember right before I splatter you all over the landscape. My friends here are
definitely gonna help as well, especially with the four or five serial rapists that have been very
interested in your dossier."
"You amoral little motherfucker. When I find you, not only are you gonna have your balls cut
off, but I'll make sure you're gonna be singing soprano all the way to the company HQ in New
York." Sara heard Vincent's sharp intake of breath, and chuckled, mocking him. "What? Surprised
that I know where HQ is? Or surprised that I didn't walk in there four years ago and slice up the CEO
for giggles?"
"Actually, I'd have loved it if you had killed that ossified blowhard. He's more of a pain in
my ass that the prisoners I was stuck with for a few years."
"Your own fault for stealing my TV when I was 15. I'll see you soon, molester of
hippopotami..." Sara killed the radio before Vincent could reply, then kicked every contraption from
the angel's shoulder, waiting to hear the satisfying crunches of the machines hitting the raised
concrete pedestal and smashing into unusable circuit boards and metal frames.
Instead of waiting for the typical quick response form the rest of the spec-ops troopers, Sara
jumped north, soon landing heavily on a decaying eight-story tenement. She stumbled slightly on
landing, swearing under her breath as she noticed that she had twisted her ankle from her landing on
the angel's shoulder. Also, the area where she was standing was sagging dangerously, forcing her to
limp around the rooftop for a few precious minutes as her leg recovered from the jolts of pain.
As she watched, Sara noticed several dark forms landing on the angel's shoulders, and she
knew that a few more were on the ground, and had probably had found the horribly mangled corpse
of their comrade. Sara waited for two more minutes, then dropped flat to avoid the expected IR and
NV sweep around the area. However, she didn't expect a volley of machine gun fire from the window
right below her, and nearly vaulted over the low wall into the shooter's lap as a result.
Sara cautiously looked over to where the firing was coming from, and when the volley
suddenly cut out, she first knew that she was shafted because her position had been compromised,
and decided to take a bit of revenge on the person who gave her away. As a result, while the gun was
silent, Sara vaulted over the ledge, keeping one hand firmly latched on the crumbling cement and used
her momentum to smash through what remained of the window, landing feet-first on the gunner inside
the room.
Sara looked down at the person she had just dented the floor with, and cursed loudly for a
second. "YOU! I thought you died!"
"Nope, so eat this." M-17 smiled, despite the difficulty she was having breathing, and wrapped
both of her hands around Sara's right wrist. 17 twisted Sara's wrist around, and giggled madly as she
felt and heard some tendons and ligaments separate themselves from the bones, many of which were
subsequently crushed or shattered by the torsion.
Sara screamed as the pain lanced up her arm and spine, exploding in her mind like a block of
C4. 17 continued to hang onto Sara's wrist, applying greater pressure to the wounded limb, but
stopped when Sara managed to pull her knife free from her boot sheath and pressed the keen edge
against 17's flat midriff. "Let. Go. Now." Sara would have gladly slashed the deranged teen's stomach
open and let her bleed to death from the internal trauma, but Jess had her own gun pointed at Sara's
right temple from just under ten feet away.
"Okay, I'll let go, and just for fun, I'll give you five minutes to get out of here before I come
after you. My friend will also help out, just to double your trouble." 17 released Sara's shattered
wrist, but Jess kept her own rifle aimed at the side of Sara's head.
"You two are small fry. I'll be shooting you later." Sara stood up, keeping her knife pointed
at 17's chest, before jumping out of the window, landing on the next building over for a few seconds
before disappearing into the night, which was now sporadically lit by gunfire to the north and west
sides.
M-17 waited with Jess before following her nemesis, whistling 'Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work
we go.' aggravating her friend. "Hey 17, what's with the happiness all of sudden?"
"Well, our enemy is now wounded, and we have some backup in the area."
"Backup?" Jess raised an eyebrow, then was jolted around by 17's assist to the next roof.
"Yeah. All the gunfire going off at once has been caused by several other technos and types
that I intimidated into helping. Each group has about twenty lumps with them, and the police should
be responding about... now." As 17 finished speaking, the volume of gunfire doubled, with sporadic
explosions thrown in as well.
The two paused, then heard what they were listening for. A piercing howl, which faded into
a bestial whine before creating several groans and squeals set their teeth on edge, but the volume of
firepower being thrown about suddenly paused before redoubling itself, giving the two girls ample
time to find several large shell casings on the next few rooftops.
They followed the longest trail of empty shells and discarded ammunition magazines, catching
glimpses of their quarry, but more often hearing the unnerving howls that seemed to herald a
temporary cessation of the citywide conflict.