Reward: 500,000.00 WD$
Current Bounty Status: Claimed
Claimer of Bounty: Jam KuradoberriNow that was the most total bullshit Jeremy had heard in a good while. He wasn't sure exactly this Jam person convinced the public she killed the Gear-girl, but he sure as hell wouldn't believe it. Besides, how could she known to find the Gear in the middle of the oversized FOREST? Well, it got rid practically all competition at least. Jeremy metal noted to send a note of gratitude for her helpful little contribution for his hunt.
By the time he touched down near a correct civilization, Colt had made it to the eastern European areas. Thank the much-debated lord for not landing in Russia where all those nasty Snow Dragons lived. It was still winter, and some weeks after his infiltration of the pirate-filled Mayship, that ended so splendidly that Jeremy lost the Gear-girl from right under his nose. To somewhat make up for that, with the power of the still existent telephone system, Colt made a call the motel in Spain that he was still checked into, and also through the phone, checked out and had his baggage mailed over here. Wasn't technology wonderful?
Yeah, and pigs fly and make love with elephants in the Antarctic.
Jeremy sipped more of his coffee before turning away from the 'Dead Bounties' list, looking at the mostly empty bounty office behind him again. Ever since that Jam took the bounty, most of the talk was about her. She said she was going to build a restaurant with the money, bleh, what sort of shitty-ass idea was that? She could just take a loan from a bank or something. Stupid girl. The news didn't stop there, either. The Second Sacred Order of Holy Knights had been fully dismantled the same time Colt managed to make it back to civilization. The 'death' of the Gear-girl was the final proof needed that the Knights were no longer needed. When they interviewed Ky Kiske, the Leader of the Organization, about what he was going to do next, he said he was going into the police force.
Comedy gold.
Ky Kiske, Leader of man's last chance for survival, bane of all Gears, wielder of the Jinki weapon, Fua-whatever. For him to be reduced to be Ky Kiske, eater of doughnuts, drinker of bad coffee, worker of the graveyard shift, and chaser of street trash. Colt wasn't sure exactly how he didn't die laughing from the news, maybe it was the death glares from the people around him that time.
Jeremy stepped out of the small building and into the soft-snow filled streets of wherever-the hell-he-was, headed back to his momentary living space in the city. Deciding he needed a bit of a change from motels, Jeremy broke into an old furniture warehouse that was rarely visited by anyone. Since there was free furniture there, all he had to do was take out the furniture and put it into an office and viola, you have a makeshift bedroom. Anyways, back to Jam. Well there was a chance she *did* off the Gear-girl (Jeremy mental noted to himself to find out real her name, 'Gear-girl' was taking a lot of energy to say) out of existence, but he should make sure. That meant he should continue tracking down those Jellyfish freaks until he could find a suitable time to approach them and ask them where *she* went, probably in the most blunt and insensitive way possible, just for the laughs.
But still, how the hell can he find a sure way to track down those pirates whenever he wanted? Sure, there was the underground source, but those were mostly built upon rumors. He should go ask about this tracking business. That is, after a hot shower… and eating some of those sausages he bought, those were badass.
***********************
'Death's Den' was those funny little bars, those kinds that usually see to sprout mob deals and the like shit in the movies. Placed in an old basement, dark, musty and with all those nasty shadows that pop out to strangle you if make the wrong step, word, or choice. The only perfectly lit place was the place where the bartender stood behind the large counter (Jeremy never figured out what those where called, those counter things the Bartender was behind). The bartender himself was a large, balding man… he looked Italian, too. How utterly Godfather. Jeremy finished his inspection of the bar, shrugged, and continued down the remaining steps into the main room. Colt seated himself in front of the Bartender before asking for his drink.
"Budweiser?"
"I do not know if we have that. I will have to look"
"Sure, go ahead" Jeremy shrugged while having his head on his arm, which itself was resting on the counter. When Italian man returned with a 'Bud-lite', the conversation continued.
"I'm sorry, sir. I could only find this type of Budweiser"
"Whatever" Jeremy sipped the drink for a few seconds, "Say, you know any guys in this bar that seem to have good information on whereabouts of certain people?"
The Bartender looked somewhat lost, "I do not understand what you mean, sir"
"Eh, okay, I suppose I said it in the wrong way…" Jeremy thought for a few seconds before deciding the best course to use, " How about this: suppose I want to know more about say… that project 'J2' everyone's been blathering about for the last while. You know that rumor I'm talking about"
The Bartender nodded in confirmation.
"Well, say I want to know more about that crap, do you know any regulars in this bar that could possibly know more about it?"
Colt's fellow converser pointed to a Blondie seated by himself, sipping on a bottle full of something black, "I think you would need to talk to Mr. Low over there, in that case. He has been staying here for the last few days"
Jeremy grinned, "Thanks, I really appreciate the help"
The Bartender the nodded the thanks and turned to another waiting customer. Jeremy swiveled around and slid off his seat towards his suggested target of heavy interrogation, still armed with his Bud-lite bottle. The Blondie looked back at the Approaching figure with a large grin. Obviously he had overheard, or at least overseen the conversation. When the green figure finally approached the red one, Mr. Low spoke up.
"You want to talk to me?"
Jeremy noted out the accent of the man, Oh, a Brit. "Yeah, can I sit?"
"Oh sure go, ahead!" Low was still smiling
Jeremy slid into the seat facing- A Brit full of sunshine. "Cool, My name is Jeremy Colt"
"Axl Low"
"Interesting name…Anyways, Mr. Corleone back there said I should talk to you…" Jeremy didn't expect Mr. Sunshine to get the joke. But Axl, instead, was in surprise.
"You watched The Godfather?"
Now how the fuck did he know that movie? "Uh…. Yeah?"
Mr. Sunshine scratched his bandanna swathed head, "Well, that's funny, I never heard of somebody ever watching Godfather"
With a wave of his hand, Jeremy quickly shoved that factor out of the conversation, "Anyways, I've been having a bit of difficulty tracking down some guys…You know anyway or anybody I could use to consistently keep track of their position?"
"Well uh…" Axl frowned his face in deep thought for a few seconds, "Well I don't know anybody…I do know a…"
A pause of thought before reluctantly finishing.
"Er…I'm not sure if you need to hear this…"
"I'm game"
"You sure?"
"Sure"
"Well, you know the Post War Admin?"
"Oh yeah, those guys…" Jeremy trailed off and tilted his head off to another angle, while remembering those who now the current centers of discussion. He always thought those guys were strange. The way they talked in speeches, the way they made promises, the way they thought the world should be. They were like something out of a cult or the like related shit.
"Hey… Hey! Are you listening to me?"
Jeremy looked back to his conversation with the Brit guy.
"Eh? You said something?"
"Just wondering if you were in the real world"
"Yeah, Yeah, I am" Jeremy raised an arm in mock defeat.
Axl gave another of those overly happy sunshine grins, "Okay! So I said, those post war guys are really uptight about keeping the peace, right?"
"Yeah…"
"I heard that those guys have a archive of a lot of people, and that they also have a lot of spies and such to keep track where those people are and where they're going"
Jackpot. "That…." Jeremy waved a finger at Mr. Sunshine, "That… is really uptight about the peace"
"I know! But whether if that's true or not…. I don't know, you could be in a wild goose chase for all you know"
A rumor…. A rumor about a bunch of weirdo bureaucrats…. Usually those are true rumors…. Jeremy smirked "Hey, you never know if a books sells until you sell it"
"True"
Jeremy pushed himself out of is seat, "Well, thanks for the tip, pal"
Axl's eyes followed Jeremy, who was paying the bartender some money, supposedly for the drink, "Hey, be careful. If the Post War guys find out, they don't know the word 'give up' when it comes to chasing somebody down"
"Whatever… Where is Post War Admin HQ anyways?"
Axl told him.
Jeremy gave a look, "Noooooooo"
Axl imitated, "Yeeeeeeessss"
"Damnit, I just got back from there"
"Tough luck, eh?"
A groan and the rolling of the eyeballs, "Yes, the tough luck"
Axl took another sip of his coke (of which Jeremy noticed during his conversation) before raising it up to him in a mock salute, "Well, good luck, Jeremy. Happy hunting!"
"Whatever…" Jeremy walked off and up the steps leading out of the underground chamber. It was then Axl suddenly decided to ask, he shouted in the direction of the staircase.
"Hey! Who you looking for anyways?"
No answer.
Mr. Sunshine shrugged before turning back to his drink, figuring that he was already gone when he asked, and that this Jeremy guy was a very strange odd-ball if he was deciding to pick on the Post War guys
********************
Jeremy looked out both directions down the empty street. He was in really bad need of getting rid of that black cloud above his head. He faced the heavens and challenged it:
"WHY THE FUCK DOES THE HQ HAVE TO BE IN FRANCE?"
********************
Days later, it was nightfall in the city of Paris. The time of the night where all the tourists are asleep and the street scum come out to rule the city. Moving at a fast pace along the city roofs was the hunter of the Gear-girl. He was now fully clad in black (he couldn't find black shoes, but what the fuck, who cares?), he had since dropped the hat and the cape, leaving his brown hair free for the wind to torment. Securely strapped to his back was another sack of the same hue as his clothing, and of course, he still had his gun with him. Colt was grinning as he ran along the rooftops.
Look at me! I'm Super-Hero! The dark figure slid to a halt to face a building adjacent to the one he was one. Slashed across the building front was the symbol proclaiming to the world that it was property of the Post War Admin Bureau. Jeremy inspected the building perimeter.
A tollbooth in the front. An apartment building on one side of the complex. Fences all around. Graveyard-shift guards on patrol. A small park on the other side of the complex.
Okay. Colt looked about his immediate surroundings now. There was a pipe clinging onto the side of the building. It looked strong enough to hold his weight. Jeremy slipped on black gloves while walking up to the edge of the apartment he was on. Stepping onto the edge, he looked down wards into the alleyway.
Bleh, getting funny feeling going up my back The black figure swung himself over the edge carefully, and caught a firm hold onto the metal piping. This was going to be such a major bitch. Jeremy slid down the pole, thanks to the precautionary procedures he took in the form of the gloves, Jeremy did not have bleeding messes of hands when he reached the bottom, but they were very warm though. Jeremy snorted and removed the devices from his fingers
"Holy shit…" That was scary. Remind self not to do that very often Jeremy rechecked his supplies before jogging across the streets, into the dark embrace of the park. Inside the pitch black, Colt crouched low and hobbled across the lawn. A curious sniff of the air incited a frown.
What the fuck? This place smells of more alcohol than that Death's Den place he was before. A muffled sound resist sounded of not a few yards to his left. Looking over he saw three silhouettes beside a small pile of glass.
The two crouching ones were two drunken punks (the pile of glass was a lot of beer bottles). One had his pants down; the other was holding a struggling form against the floor. The third one on the floor was a woman (clothes torn to bits, duh) apparently the victim of rape. Drunken rape. Whatever.
Be hero?
No.
Jeremy continued past the threesome. He was feeling rather guilty.
Come on man, it's the right thing to do
She'll get over it.
You're not a cold-hearted bastard and you know it
She's not important
With great power comes great responsibility, you dick
I don't care about the fucking-
"Who the fuck are you?" a slurred voice shouted at Jeremy. He looked back to see the drunk duo fixing their pants and stuff and walking over to him. Apparently, the woman saw Colt after all, and started a renewed effort in making a commotion in order to get Jeremy's attention. The rapists looked in the direction their little toy was looking and bingo! Here we are!
Bitch.
"Fuck, Garreth, kill him already. We don't need a tattle-tale"
Jeremy looked back and forth between the two men on both his sides, and gave off a cold voice, "I don't tattle, now go screw her and be done with. I'll be gone before she starts moaning"
The man that wasn't Garreth sneered, "Sorry, pal, we don't trust shit like you. Slag him, Gar" The man to Colts right charged forward with a small switchblade, already opened. Jeremy dodged Garreth's pathetic attempt to kill him, and grabbed the hand and wrist of his first attacker, and twisted it in a direction that, obviously, caused great pain. Garreth was in mid-yelp in pain when Colt thrust his open palm into Garreth's jaw, making it smash back into it's closed position (and most likely sliced his tongue into two or three separate pieces). While Garreth reeled backwards from the momentum of the last blow, Jeremy smashed the same fist downwards into the rapist's stomach. Garreth flew into the soil, unconscious from the pain. His friend (or whatever fucking relationship he had with him) looked in shock for a second before going into a rage. He charged towards Colt.
"FUCKER! I'LL EAT YOU ALIVE!"
Before he could change plans or reactions, Jeremy reached behind his back and pulled out his weapon. Colt, almost casually, brought the barrel section of the gun flying across the face of his opponent, snapping the drunkard's nose into a position God well intended not to be in. while the drunkard whimpered from the pain, Jeremy flew behind to the unprotected back of his victim and snapped a sideways kick into the rapist. He stumbled forward into a tree, causing his broken nose even more damage. He was about to cry out in pain like his comrade, Garreth. But also just like Garreth, he didn't get he chance. Feeling a good portion of his hair being pulled back, he moaned confusedly while he stumbled back with his hair still having a firm grip on his head. He was then thrown forward into the tree again. He only felt his head smashed inwards for a few seconds before the black became his only world.
**************************
Oh yay, now that bitch ran off and is probably now calling the cops, perfect. Jeremy snorted and let his opponent fall backwards from the side of the tree that bore his blood. Fucking bitch, should have just gotten raped and gotten her rewards for deciding to walk the streets at midnight, but no, she just *had* to think he was the knight in shining armor. Bitch. Still, Jeremy felt a little bit better, but not by much. If it were that guitar whore he was in the middle of beating the shit out of, he would have felt *so* much better. Anyways, he better do his shit before the cops get here. He didn't wan to be leaving his scene of crime while the cops were still in the middle cleaning up this mess here.
Jeremy fitted his weapon back into its holster and ran off towards the fence deeper into the park. He ducked behind a tree a few yards from the fence separating the park from the P.W.A.B building. Peeking out from behind the tree. He waited patiently. It was a few minutes later that he saw two guards pass the section of fencing that faced Colt. The moment the talking and the footsteps started to fade, Jeremy flew from his cover and dashed towards the fencing. A few feet from the wall, he put all the energy of his run into his front leg and launched himself over the flimsy metal defense. The single aerial bound took him straight into the complex. A second leap flung him several feet into the air, his body parallel to the office building. It was on the descent that his hand formed into the purple talons. Smashing into the concrete wall, he clung fast onto the building. Jeremy shook his head free of the impact, then started climbing up upwards, and avoiding windows along the way.
Here we go. A re-run of the Mayship accident, only this, time he was going vertical. He didn't also have to worry about losing his hat. Still…
Pulling himself over the side and onto the roof, and he reminded himself why exactly he was here in the first place.
Anyways, like Mr. Sunshine said, since the Bureaucrats from hell supposedly have agents all over the world, reporting about those important people or whatever. So the fastest way to report was through radio (still existent). Since Jeremy already had the type of radios that the P.W.A.B used for communication (one of those illegal things he picked up one day, when he was bored). All he had to do was steal some files that talked about frequencies of radios. That means going to… somewhere, but he had no idea. Well, it happened in movies, but one, in real life, can't certainly find blueprints for high-priority buildings without raising eyebrows. So Colt hoped they had a map in the building for the newbie workers to use.
Jeremy kicked a vent grate out of the way. It revealed a hole in the floor.
But like in the movies, one can find air vents big enough to fit men in. Vents suck.
***********************
Deep inside the confusing mess hallways of the P.W.A.B building, an air-con vent was removed and pulled inward into the air ducts. Jeremy peered out, his face visibly now a color matching his clothes, thanks to the dust inside the small tin tunnel.
"Fucking roaches, these guys got to address their air-systems more often" finding no immediate threats, Jeremy dropped to the floor feet first, pulled out his weapon, readied the weapon, and jogged down the hallways.
Fucking perfect. More hallways.
Along one of the walls was a map, like Colt predicted. Jeremy peered over the plastic plate. Well, they had a radio room.
Interesting.
Well, time to visit the basement floor. Jeremy found an elevator and entered. Pressing the bottommost button, Colt eased himself and leaned back against the wall.
The Elevator later chimed its arrival, reminding Colt to cover half of his face with his free arm. The metal doors slide open, revealing a security guard a few feet from the open chamber Colt was in. Apparently, the said guard was going up a floor to get some coffee, which explains why he was already so close to the elevator. Surprise was plastered all over his face, letting Jeremy use the advantage of the extra time. He fired a single shot into the security guard's thigh, dropping him. The guard immediately called to behind him.
"GET HELP NOW!" The guard in a desk leant forward before grabbing his walkie-talkie on his waste and brought it up to his mouth.
"This is radio floor, requesting- AGGHH!" a second shot smashed through the communication device and through the guards hand. Jeremy had noticed the second one in time. Looking back down at the security at his feet, the guard looked back up with a mix of fear and anger. Jeremy kicked the side of the 'Pwab'- guard's head leaving the man in between the world of conscious and not. Jeremy looked over the new room. Actually it was a hallway, colored in a claustrophobically tan color. It was wide enough for the desk to sit snug next to a wall and leave room for a man to walk in between the other wall and said desk. At the end of the hall was a large, sealed metal wall, meaning the radio room was locked off to Colt. A nine-digit keypad was to one side of the sealed door. The guard with the injured hand was using his still usable other to pull out his sidearm. Jeremy dashed up to the remaining threat, firing a shot that ripped across the usable arm of the guard. The 'Pwabbie' stepped back for a second to adjust to the pain before raising the weapon again. Jeremy was too close already; he used his free arm from hiding his face to giving a backhand to one side of his opponent's face. While the pwabbie spun in a half circle, Jeremy grabbed the back of the guard's shirt collar and shoved his own handgun into his captive's back. Colt growled into the head in front of him.
"Drop the gun" the clatter of metal sounded off the walls of the hall. Jeremy then shoved the guard forward, towards Radio room door. Upon reaching the end of the hall:
"Open the door"
A gritty voice retort, "Make me"
Jeremy didn't waste the excuse to shoot the pwabbie in the foot. After the expected yelp of pain, the threat was amended.
"Open the door now, or your balls are next" The guard's head bobbed up and down before a pale arm punched in several buttons on the keypad. The metal wall Colt faced soon slid up into the ceiling. The guard spoke up.
"You aren't going to get away with this, the silent alarms have been tripped-" Colt finished the sentence for him by smashing the handle of his gun into back of his captive's head. Dropping the final enemy to the ground, Jeremy faced the large room with a snort and his hands to his hips. Time for work.
**********************
Some streets away from the P.W.A.B HQ, a police car silently prowled for any evildoers that pass by the mighty vehicle of justice. The late night didn't tire the police cop inside, as he had already stayed up late enough times in his life to not be bothered. The police radio gave a new order.
"All officers in ______ street vicinity, please report in"
The officer inside the vehicle pulled out his mike to reply.
"Officer Kiske reporting". Several garbled names and 'reporting's and 'here's also then came through the channel. The female voice then gave her next set of orders.
"The silent alarms at the Post War Administration Bureau Headquarters have been tripped. All available units are to go there immediately. All suspects found in or around the building is to be considered highly armed and dangerous …"
That was all Ky Kiske needed to hear. He turned on the Sirens of his vehicle and flew down the streets of Paris to the building. All the while he quietly whispered a prayer of protection to God. At this speed it would take him around five minutes to get there.
**********************
It was a good five minutes after he found the file cabinet containing the general information he need, and for the entire time he had been stuffing as many folders full of memos and files in the 'R' section (for radio) and the 'F' section (for frequencies) into the bag that was open on the floor. He, in fact, found an extra bag in the room. So he was hauling two bags, fattened up with paper, with him now, one strapped on his back and the other over his shoulder. Jeremy stepped back to 'admire' his work. Well, he had certainly done a job well done in clearing out all that shit in those drawers. Time to go. Colt nodded to himself and ran back down the hallway with the two vegetables of a security guard still lying on the floor. Reaching the elevator, Jeremy smashed the button for the first floor and waited impatiently for exit for this hellhole of an office building. The remaining security was probably waiting for him at the lobby.
Reaching his destination, Jeremy found himself amidst a sea of cubicles. He looked in one direction and found a barrier of glass keeping him from the outside world. He dropped his bag slung over his shoulder and onto a chair (those rolling kinds) and pulled the chair/bag along with him until he reached glass wall. Pulling the bag of the chair, Colt then picked up the chair itself from the floor with both arms and flung it into the windows. Breaking easily under the heavy device, the glass fell away from the frame; Jeremy picked his bag up onto his shoulder again (the other one, considering the first was already pretty sore) and dropped out of the shattered wall. Falling onto the earth, Jeremy quickly rolled out of his initial impact to save his legs the threat of being broken. They still hurt though. Forgetting that factor, the black figure of the now successful burglar ran out of the complex perimeter and as fast as he could away from the area. The cops were very close; the sirens were already trying to turn Jeremy deaf. Running across the street with no regard for the universal rules of 'safe street crossing', Colt soon learned his lesson as a Police car stopped in front of his path of direction, Making Colt smash into the vehicle and roll over its engine hood. Fuck, the cops are already here.
"Shit!"
***********************
"Shit!"
The figure in black rolled over the Ky Kiske's engine hood and fell over the over side of his car. The man then continued his mad pace away from the complex. The continued escape already told Ky what just hit his car. The criminal. Instantly the officer was out of his car and after the shadows of the villan, walkie-talkie in one hand and revolver in the other. Ky shouted into the radio.
"This is officer Kiske, suspect is sighted heading from the scene of crime, headed south on ________ road"
The walkie-talkie spoke back in a calmer fashion than its owner, "understood, all units, the suspect is heading south on ________ road, I repeat…" the remaining went to the wind as the silhouette of the cop chased after the other silhouette of the evildoer, shouting "Freeze! Police!" at regular intervals. The pursuit soon took both into an alleyway with a dead end. The criminal was trapped. It was now a stand off.
"You're under arrest, drop the bag and put you hand behind you head"
The man in black turned around, the moonlight only able to reveal the bottom half of the face. He was smiling half-heartedly.
"Well officer, you got me fair and square…"
"I said, put your hand on your head"
"And why should I? I have done nothing wrong, I'm just fighting bad people, just like you…."
"I fight in the name of justice, you fight for your greedy ideals. We have nothing in common"
The thief, and now attempted philosopher was now sneering "Justice? The Justice of the police, and all people for that matter, is always fucked up and twisted to follow the thoughts and words of greedy men. You are nothing but a lapdog to corruption"
Ky fought against his anger from what he felt, was an insult to him, "You're wrong, not all people are like that"
His sneer was even bigger, "Oh really? I lived long enough to understand what the world is: there is no such thing as 'good' people. Everybody is bad and headed for the same shit hole. Justice and religion is just an excuse to make people feel better about themselves. We're all hopeless in the end. Your just as bad as I am…"
"Enough! Put your hands on your head and drop the bag, now!"
The man made a face, "Aw, did I make you angry offi-" The thief lashed his foot out at Ky, but during the entire conversation he had his foot digging into the soil, so a cloud of dust was kicked up, obscuring the officer's vision and burned his eyes. A yelp of pain followed suit as Ky was thrown off guard and he stumbled away from the cloud to prepare himself against any attacks by the thief.
None came.
When Kiske's vision cleared, he saw the man in black having easy time leaping up the window sills of the building which formed an alley, like they were a staircase. Reaching the top, the man disappeared onto the roof and he disappeared. Then the Calvary arrived.
**************************
"You okay Kiske? You look kind of shaken from tonight…" The questioning party handed Ky a paper cup full of coffee.
Ky looked up from his with a smile, while gratefully accepting the act of kindness and offer of an energy boost, "I'm fine, I'm just thinking…"
The police were now back at the Post War HQ, rather pissed off from the failed apprehension of the thief, and were currently in the middle of investigating the place. Ky was resting on the front steps of the building.
"Thinking? About what?"
"About tonight"
"Aw, don't worry about it Ky, you can afford to screw up a few times in your life"
Ky chuckled at the friendly encouragement before going back to sipping his coffee. He was thinking about tonight, but more on his short conversation with the thief before he escaped. The conversation itself didn't bother Ky too much, there were criminal out there all the time that thought they had a silver tongue. But the man's personal thought about justice brought back some dead memories of long before, when he still lead his knights against the evil abominations known as the gears.
"I know you are going after the man that created the Gears. If that is the cause of the war, then it is my duty to seek him out.
Sol didn't stop walking, "Give it up."
"Why? I am prepared to die for the sake of justice."
Now Sol stopped.
"Justice? What if your pursuit for justice destroys the peace?"
"Wha…? I…"
He fought for justice and good against evil.
Evil?
Everybody is bad and headed for the same shit hole.
More memories.
"Evil...has no place in this world..."
"Evil? You dare to call me evil?! I fight for my own existence, no more, no less."
"That cannot be reason for waging war on humans!"
"...Look at my body. I was created to kill humans...I'm a weapon. Yet, the same humans that created me never thought about my mind, my soul. I'd have been used as a tool...and if I'd refuse, I'd be dismantled!"
"...I..."
"Heh. Your time to depart from this world has come. But know this young Knight...if Gears are truly evil, then think about where we came from...we are your creations...If there is a shred of evil me, then it was installed inside me by your kind!"
The memories and questions Ky
thought he put to rest a while back was suddenly put to question again. Did he
really fight for good now?
"Justice? The Justice of the police, and all people for that matter, is always fucked up and twisted to follow the thoughts and words of greedy men. You are nothing but a lapdog to corruption"
The questions now burned in Ky's mind. He instantly knew what he should do. He must find out what justice and evil truly was before anything else. It was his mistake to think that he could drop something this big so soon. He should find out soon. Ky hoped that this was God's will.
***************************
"Subject CZ leaving 7710,0193,0011. Currently heading southeast…", another monotone voice from another radio states.
Jeremy known now only as the man was resting comfortably in a reclining chair back at his home HQ, inside the room lit only by a fireplace. Names didn't matter here; he was the only one living here anyways.
"Subject JK holding position 88607,01834,9223…"
It had taken him a shit load of time to figure it out, but after a day or so of thinking it out. He finally figured out who was who and how to make a mapping system according to the radio reports.
"Subject J, Subject M, S.subject D leaving 2499,1792,0273. Currently heading southeast…."
He traces a line from one pin in that direction, relative to a large map the pin and the line on it. There were several pins and lines on the map already, forming a large line that scarred the perfection of the map.
"Subject SB leaving 1882,9713,9103. Currently heading north…."
He thought of other things along with the map. The files stolen proved far more useful than first expected. Along with the info for the P.W.A.B radio frequencies, he also found a lot of funny things that were recorded and filed. For example in 'R' there was a paper for a status report for some 'Robotic Imitation series' that was using that knight, Ky Kiske, as a base subject for the Prototype Robo-Imitation. The status report said the Prototype was complete. So the P.W.A.B had a….Robo-Ky…. What the fuck can a Robo-cop do? Also recorded in the 'F' section were the analysis and movement records for some freak calling himself Faust. The paper went on about how useful his capture could be and yadda yadda yadda. Fucking shit, a government conspiracy for the betterment of humanity. Again. Like that TV show…. what's that character's name again? Mully?
"Subject J, Subject M, S.subject D leaving 2520,1800,0279. Currently heading southeast…."
He slotted another pin into the map. And finished the traced line between the last two pins. Looks like the Pirates are heading to China. The man looked carefully at the map, deciding where the pirates would land…
"Subject J, Subject M, S.subject D holding position 2737, 3776, 1084…"
2737, 3776, 1084? That would be at…. Ah-ha! He presses a finger at that series of coordinates. That mean those Jellyfish freaks are staying a Fuzhou, China!
"OH YEAH! You dumbasses are so not getting away this time!" Once again, the figure lively dances around the room, re-supplying his traveling materials. He then travels up the ladder and through the hatch in the ceiling. Closing the hatch behind him, he now leaves the fireplace and the radio to their own businesses.
"Subject F leaving…"