Section Thirteen
Chapter Three: Night Life
Planet Gardius – Section Thirteen Lobby – 1835 Hours
"Hey, you two." Alyssa called airily.
Anton and Destin turned, the latter cupping his chin and nodding approvingly while the latter gulped, frantically adjusting his glasses as he weighed whether or not to keep staring or turn away.
Alyssa wasn't a woman who put much stock in 'femininity' (as she typically said with a sneer). The Triad's children's gender had largely not meant much to him, and by her adolescence she was well set in her role as a tomboy. But genetics hadn't felt like mentioning this to her body, though, which led to the truly unique predicament of her looking stunning, yet hating every moment of it.
Her attention turned instantly to her new subordinate, and she whistled. "Not bad, Anton – I guess a guy like you would clean up pretty well."
"Young Master is very good at being a wallflower." Akashic chimed in from her position underneath Anton's arm. He and Alyssa had been authorized to bring their Devices for the evening's festivities, in case anything…unexpected happened.
"Not bad; that's pretty funny, sis!" snickered Bowie from a…compartment in the red dress. He had been trying out various comments throughout the day in an attempt to make Akashic warm up to him. Anton wasn't quite certain how camaraderie worked for Devices, but it certainly wasn't for her. Calling Akashic a lady might have been a stretch (not that he'd admit that aloud), but Bowie seemed to fit tramp to a T.
Willing his cheeks to unredden, Anton nodded as his device fell silent. "U-uh, thank you, Captain!"
His superior rapped him on the forehead. "Knock it off. This is supposed to be a party, isn't it? Just call me Alyssa tonight; that's an order."
"A-alright, then…" Anton said, trying to wrap his head around that turn of logic.
The sound of a car came from outside, and the Major nodded. "Yep, irritably late, just like I expected. Well, shall we go?"
"Let's," Alyssa said with a nod, before grimacing, "sooner I get this thing off, the better. It's all…loose."
Anton tried not to think about that.
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Planet Gardius – Public Highway – 1837 Hours
"So, Anton." Alyssa said from her side of the limousine. "Have you been to a lot of things like this? Your family's supposed to be pretty famous, or so I've heard."
From his side (the Major was sitting between them – if he had been able to, his posture strongly indicated his feet would be up on the back of the driver's seat right now), Anton shifted, looking briefly uncomfortable. "Well, yes, I have…but only because my family was famous. I doubt it'd have mattered much if I hadn't been there at all. It's a big family."
"Not we're, I notice." Alyssa thought, and shrugged. "Wouldn't really know anything about that, sorry. Uh, I kind of asked because…" she trailed off.
Anton could have sworn he heard laughter coming from close by his left. "Yes? What is it, Alyssa?"
After a long pause she turned to him, face screwed up in embarrassment. "D-do you have any advice on how to act at these? I always end up looking like an idiot at them, and I…really don't want to tonight."
In his head, Anton did the math on precisely how long it would take for them to reach their destination, and how long tutoring someone like Alyssa in social niceties might take. It wasn't pretty.
"But, well, you've been there before, haven't you?"murmured the voice once more, and again, it had a point. He wondered briefly where it had come from before replying. "I suppose I could…first of all, Alyssa, you should…"
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Planet Gardius – Public Street, en route to Eastern Signal – 1840 Hours
At that moment, as they often tend to, the same thought ran through two separate minds in the same car.
"Well, this is awkward."
Dwight would be the first to admit that he didn't have too much in common with most of the Bureau citizenry. It was culture shock, pure and simple. Granted, most differences between cultures on earth were languages or food, and not magic, but even now with his device and rank, he still couldn't quite fit in. Every time he seemed to have understood everything, something new would pop up and throw him for a loop again.
Take the kid sitting next to him, for instance. The two squads generally didn't socialize much, but he knew almost nothing about Ace, even after two months. They said he was an Artificial Mage, born and raised in a laboratory – that might explain why he seemed to be almost a blank slate outside of combat. Kid was nice, sure, but there almost seemed to be something…missing from him. It made him nervous, and he wouldn't have been very surprised if that were the case for Fire Squad.
"So, Ace," he said, mostly just to break the silence, "what do you think of this? Smells like a trap, to me."
The young man had been looking out the window, and turned to him as he propped up his head on one arm. "I'm not really sure, Lieutenant – I don't really think too much about fights that haven't happened yet."
Dwight shrugged, turning a corner. "No harm in that; nobody here's that much of a genius – well, maybe GD. I just wanted to hear your thoughts on it."
Ace seemed to consider this a moment, before he spoke. "It's hard to say. Those attack droids aren't too much of a problem, even when they outnumber me, but they're definitely better at tactics than I am. "If the Sergeant wasn't with me most of the time, there's no way I'd leave those fights as safely as I do." His face clouded over. "I'm not as smart as him."
The Lieutenant nearly laughed. "I think your standards might be a little high if you're feeling inferior to him, Ace."
Ace shook his head immediately. "No, no, it's not like…it's hard to explain." He lifted one finger to tap his forehead. "The person who made me, whoever it was, did something to my head. They didn't want me to talk, think, or use my hands for anything but hitting things. Whenever I try, it's just...hard to concentrate sometimes."
The car was silent for a long moment afterward. "W-what about you, Lieutenant?" Ace asked. "You don't seem to talk about yourself that often."
"There's not that much to tell, really," said Dwight casually, "Earth is nowhere near as…interesting as any Bureau-controlled planet, that's for sure. The toughest thing I had to deal with there was a mugger." He sighed.
"You don't like it here?"
"No, not at all." the sniper said hurriedly. "I still find it weird even after half a decade, but Bureau space is a better place to live than a lot of different ones I could name." He tapped the steering wheel idly. "The way I see it, there's plenty of guys like me back home, but only I have magic. If I can use it to help people around here, then I will – that's all."
Ace let out a whistle. "That's impressive, Lieutenant: I wish I could be that sure of myself."
Dwight smiled. "Just give it time. It comes with experience, I think."
"…nice talking to you, Lieutenant." Ace smiled.
"No problem."
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Planet Gardius – Skies Nearby Northern Signal – 1842 Hours
"782." Arturia looked over her shoulder. "Do you see anything?"
"Statement: I do not detect any movement or heat signatures at the present time, Lady Lackland. This may be due to our distance, or because of an outright lack of them, but I should note that this is extremely unlikely."
Arturia nodded slightly, turning away from the Gadget Droid perched on her shoulders. "But of course: it is only common sense to assume this is a trap. Keep your sensors ready, 782. I do not think Quattro would sortie a War Armor tonight, but I feel uneasy, all the same."
GD paused for a moment to process this. "Query: are you worried, Lady Lackland?"
"Certainly not for us," Arturia said quickly, "but Captain Triad's conduct today shortly after the meeting alarmed me slightly. In two months, I've never seen her be so withdrawn."
With a pulse of his optic, GD tilted his spherical held to one side. "Statement: nothing appeared amiss with the Captain to me. She seemed to be her usual self."
"People are like the sea, 782," Arturia reprimanded lightly, "far deeper than they appear at first glance; you must remember that."
"Affirmative: I will remember that, Lady Lackland."
Her voice softened. "But I will admit it did surprise me as well. Perhaps the reason I noticed was because it was so unusual…she is always so upfront with her feelings, after all. If something is bothering her, it must be truly important."
GD shifted his weight a bit and looked to his knight. "Query: are you concerned about the Captain, Lady Lackland?"
Arturia sighed. "That you have to ask shows you do not fully understand."
"…Statement: that does not quite resolve my query, Lady Lackland."
The sigh was louder this time.
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Planet Gardius – Streets Approaching Western Signal – 1843 Hours
Many things rose up off the streets that night; heat, light, even trash on the wind. Joining them came a very familiar sound to all members of Section Thirteen: Daniel Trail complaining.
"Yeah, sure, don't give Daniel a lift to the damn signal; he can walk. He's used to it. Why, his legs are so short, it'll even be great exercise! Bunch of jerks…"
A can unfortunate enough to have been in his path got a vicious kick for it. It spun through the air, and rebounded off the wall before landing at Otavi's feet, who dutifully deposited it in a trash can before following her superior, who turned back to look at her as he continued.
"You'd think they'd at least be courteous enough to give us a lift to a total death match, wouldn't you? What the hell was the Captain thinking? Water Squad's supposed to be the support team, isn't it? We're not exactly the bruisers in it, either."
Not to his great surprise, Otavi merely shrugged, giving him one of those damn stares. Daniel scowled. "Yeah, I know it can't be helped. That doesn't mean I have to like it, does it?"
"She has faith in us." the girl said with a rare smile.
"…I guess." Daniel muttered. He held up Lithic, now in the shape of a gear and piston-laden shovel nearly as long as himself. It displayed a map of the city. "Anyway, we're coming up pretty close on the signal, and I wouldn't put it past him to have the whole block wired. How do you want to do this, Otavi?"
The girl stopped next to him, closing her eyes as she folded her slender arms behind her back. Daniel leaned up against the nearest wall while he waited, tapping his Device on the pavement a few times lazily. "Hey Lithic, check out the stability around here, will ya?" he suddenly asked.
"Gotcha, chief." the shovel said smartly before the archeologist plunged him down into the pavement up to his hilt. It didn't need to break the ground, oddly, entering it smoothly like water.
"Good location; no faults, sinkholes or caverns detected nearby, and nothing built with shoddy materials. Residential buildings not prominent, but be careful, Chief."
"I'm always careful." Daniel replied smugly.
With a simple blink, Otavi came out of her trance. "I have found a path." she said, sounding quite pleased with herself.
"Well, great." Daniel replied. "Where, pray tell?"
Wordlessly, she pointed up, right over his shoulder. He followed her finger and groaned when it lead to a fire escape. "You gotta be kidding me."
"Do you need a boost?"
"…I'd revoke your card for that, but you'd just take 'em anyway."
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Planet Gardius – Back Alleys Toward Southern Signal – 1845 Hours
A woman, even one who looked like Captain Jeanne Stromhold, probably shouldn't have been taking a route like this, even for business. An ordinary mugging probably wouldn't be much danger to a mage, but when the scales went up this high you certainly didn't want to be the one holding the short straw. Besides, why bring trouble you didn't need?
Jeanne wasn't like Alyssa; she didn't get off on causing trouble. Trouble always seemed to enjoy her company, no matter where she was. So it didn't really matter if she took the alleys or the street. The city would lash out at her either way. But she'd survived enough disasters, both foreseen and sudden, to satisfy ten rookies at this point. There was nothing more dangerous nearby than herself: and this was her city.
She heard the steadying footsteps and rapid breath several moments before the mugger leaped out, gun raised jerkily. "H-hand over all your money, right now, or, or – ugh!"
The 'ugh' was due to Jeanne seizing the weapon in one hand, forcing it upward, squeezing tightly, and then punching him in the chest hard.
The kid – and he was one, yes, even if he tried to hide it – doubled over gasping, forgetting the weapon in his hand. Good: mass weapons were dangerous, but never more-so than in the hands of someone like this. She shifted her grip, loosening his hand from the gun and cupping the latter entirely.
Water then filled the space between her fingers, forming a tight ball that squeezed down with a deep, localized pressure. There came a load crunch. The youth stared at the crumpled hunk of metal in his grasp when Jeanne pulled her hand away.
"Go get a refund, kid; the thing's defective." she said, shoving him back into the wall as she walked past. "Get back home, or wherever you live – things are gonna get ugly tonight."
Yep. Nothing worse than herself.
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Planet Gardius – Angelo Corporation Entertainment Hall – 1848 Hours
"…and you also shouldn't use jokes that begin with 'what did the Saint Church Priest say to the Ground Forces Sergeant?'. Or pick your teeth with…well, just don't pick your teeth at all."
Anton had been guessing with quite a few of these points so far, but, honestly, he hadn't gotten one wrong yet. Or Alyssa was just too polite to say so – probability and personal experience spoke otherwise about that.
"Think we're here, if you two wanna finish up the Miss Etiquette course." said Destin from in-between them, apparently thinking looking at his feet could hide his snickering.
"Oh," Anton frowned, "I wish we had a bit more time, actually."
Alyssa snorted. "Gee, thanks."
The secretary choked. "Uh, that is, I only meant-"
Laughing, his captain gave him a noogie. "Man, you're fun to tease. Relax; I'm grateful, really."
Frowning a bit, she folded her arms as the limousine pulled in. "I might have to give you some advice on that stick up your ass later, actually. You don't have to always be worried about what other people think. I'm not."
"R-really?" Anton replied. He'd…never really thought about it before.
"Yeah, really." Alyssa said simply, leaning across and opening before climbing out.
Anton watched her for a moment. "…she's going to forget what I just said right away, isn't she?"
"Yep."
He sighed. "Why did she ask, then?"
Destin tapped him on the shoulder. "That, my boy, is a riddle for you. Let me know if you, heh, figure it out."
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Planet Gardius – Angelo Corporation Ballroom – 1850 Hours
"All the sheep gathered into one room at one time. You can practically feel the lack of brain cells."
Indeed, if someone tosses a grenade into the room now, they'd decimate a good eighty-to-ninety percent of the world's 'cultural elite'. With nary a person blaming him, he added reverentially. But what would be the point of that? You had to have people who looked up to you, schmoozed to you…envied you. There were a few other perks to becoming successful, but none more satisfying.
From his seat at the back of the room, Quattro could see the guests coming in. Sipping his wine, his eyes narrowed as he watched Destin, Alyssa and Anton enter and be escorted to their table. "The boy from yesterday? Interesting, Destin: did he attract your attention that much?"
He smiled. "I suppose I will have to keep a close eye on him, too, then."
Suddenly, the man's cell phone began to buzz. Clicking it open, Quattro listened to Barnes on the other end.
"Boss, the guys at North and East just had their traps sprung. That knight and the droid at north, Jacobs and the martial artist for east."
Quattro nodded. "I suppose they had to fudge it a bit with their deployment, thanks to me. A shame. If only I could watch – ah well. Keep me posted, Barnes, especially if Captain Stromhold appears. I'm very interested to see what she can do alone."
Standing up, he lifted his fork and tapped on the goblet before him. "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention?"
Naturally, they gave it – who would dare to bring the implications that would come from ignoring him? – while he spoke. "My friends, we are here today for an evening of pleasure and relaxation. But that might not have been possible had it not been for Section Thirteen's quick actions yesterday, saving the city yet again. I propose some applause, although of course, that is nowhere near a sufficient reward."
Sure enough, they clapped. The sound was music to his ears. Certainly more than how the Major and his friends viewed it: he could see the other man's mouth move into a cracked smile even from here.
"I do so love my job."
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Planet Gardius – Northern Signal – 1848 Hours
"Quit moving, you wise guy!"
"Rebuttal: I may consider it, proved you discard your weapon."
Like any reputable criminal organization, Quattro had a plethora of…'odd jobbers', as he might call them, to attend to dirty work he simply didn't have the time for. Most of them were mages, or if not, skilled in a field he took interest in. Like many worlds in the Bureau's territory, Gardius was a melting pot, and coincidentally, all of the men picked from Quattro's employ had been 'inspired' from certain outside elements.
'Tricky Fingers' Nelson was one of them. He'd gotten the idea for his 'career' from several ancient masterpieces he had acquired through various channels over the years. He knew their names by heart: 'Goodfellas', 'Casino', 'The Untouchables' (he didn't much like the ending of that last one, though). These guys were the coolest of the cool, the flyest daddy-os ever. Who wouldn't want to have that same style? With all this stuff about them, there were probably hundreds of followers on…what was it? Zearth? Didn't matter. The point was, he was the coolest, and he'd prove that to the boss tonight.
Assuming he could manage to hit this piece of scrap metal, that is. He wasn't no Bureau monkey, but he knew these Gadget guys couldn't block repeated shots, so one focused burst should do him in. But it seemed like no matter how much lead (okay, projectile spells, but it was still spiritually lead) he shot from his tommy gun Device, or where they were aimed at, the droid managed to be somewhere else, without any obvious effort on its part.
This was because GD had a good understanding of what he represented to any mage: a threat. Even if he was on the side of the Bureau now, he still found himself a high priority target among enemy magic-users, and ones well-versed in combating AMF defenses. Much like his Type 1 brothers, he would only last one shot that got through. Two, if he were lucky.
For obvious reasons, this was deemed unacceptable, and precisely for that reason did GD request his new body. Going the route of the well-armored Type 3s seemed tempting at first, but a focused barrage would still likely spell his demise. The most preferable path was to ensure the field never had to come into play: a more fragile, yet faster form was the most logical solution.
Although, 'faster' was probably not the correct word. Numerous mages could outstrip the Gadget Droid in speed, especially since he could no longer fly. What he was was mobile: due to his mechanical form, and the extendable limbs every Type had, GD could contort his limbs in any number of ways to avoid attacks. Some were easier than others, however.
Whirling around as GD leaped over his head, Nelson let loose a flurry of orange-coned bullets from the barrel of his gun. In theory it should have been impossible to dodge them all in mid-air. In reality GD's body curled and twisted in manners a figure skater would have been envious of, avoiding every one.
Landing on his feet, the Sergeant spun around and dashed toward the man, claws outstretched. Nelson gulped at this, but quickly unleashed the spell he'd prepared in his off hand, throwing it to the ground in-between them. It was little more than packed in energy made to cause a large bang when it hit something, but it still forced GD to step back lest it overload his vision.
When the blast dissipated, not to his great surprise, the suspect was gone. There were a bevy of places to hide in this location, a small area flanked by several buildings. Turning slowly, GD lifted his claws and prepared himself for a surprise attack – when a loud crash caught his attention. Turning toward the north half of the square, he flinched. "Lady Lackland!"
If there was one thing you could count on Quattro's men for, it wasn't a fair fight. To defend this location, and certainly the others, Nelson had brought along a contingent of the attack droids Section Thirteen was used to fighting…along with a few in a slightly new shape..
These ones were a bit bulkier than their spindly brothers, with wide limbs, broad shoulders, and a roundish head. Around their hands and feet were durable looking, two-pronged gauntlets or greaves which occasionally gave off a spark of electricity into the air, rather than the far less harmless target of the two officers' bodies. The whole arrangement was very familiar to them, but any potential implications about it would have to wait.
Arturia had been spent spiraling down to the pavement from her position hovering a few feet overhead by a jumping kick by one of them. There were three, and as GD watched, one of the others came dashing in from the rear, lifting its foot for a deadly axe kick.
Dazed though she was, the girl flung out her hand. A single-strand bind leapt from a nearby sigil that burst into life, wrapping around the leg still on the ground and pulling. It didn't knock the robot over, unfortunately; it quickly flung out its arms, balancing in a hand-stand before leaping away. Arturia got to her feet while the other two melee types leaped aside to give the original models the chance to tag her barrier more than a few times before she returned to the air.
"782, how are you faring?" she asked as the Gadget Droid approached, the Boltheads splitting up to deal with them. The regular models split into two equal groups, but two of the 'Boxers' went for Arturia, leaving GD for the nearby lone one. Logically, this made sense, given that the former had shown herself to be a greater threat so far. Not for the first time, GD was thankful he no longer had to think that way.
"Statement: well enough, Lady Lackland. The suspect appears to have fled, but the signal shows no signs of disappearing. If it is at this location, perhaps it is too large to move?"
"Many are. But do not let your guard down; these constructs are indeed stronger than before."
"Affirmative: I will not be careless, Lady Lackland - do not worry."
"Did I sound such? I apologize for misleading you."
Crouching lower to the ground, GD resumed his dash, dodging and flipping from one side to the other to avoid their fire. Tensing itself – a rather surreal motion, coming from a machine – the Boxer threw itself into a lunging hook aimed at GD's chest, the gauntlet's prongs sparking with electricity. A smarter decision than he would have expected from it, but it did not make a significant difference.
Knees suddenly buckling, GD seemed to collapse wholly in mid-run, the punch whirring over his head as he fell. Before he met the pavement, however, both his hands flung up and wrapped around the outstretched metal arm. This move seemed not to surprise it, as it quickly pulled back the other to remove the obstruction (and displace it several feet down the road).
Shoving his lightweight form backward using the arm as a balance beam, GD flipped himself up to the top of the arm in a hand-stand. This, too, didn't seem to perturb the Boxer much, only switching the direction of its punch. So it was just as well that GD's legs spun around at that moment, kicking the other robot in the back of the head twice.
As it pitched forward, he leaped off in a backflip, righting himself in mid-air and staring at the Boxer's back carefully. In his electronic vision, a space near the center was illuminated by a crosshair.
"Analysis: weak point in barrier detected, piercing through. AS: Launcher Arm."
The glow present on GD's right claw intensified, and a small piston present in that arm slammed forward, sending the tentacle extension on his arm rocketing forward like a gunshot at the Boxer's unprotected back.
At least, seemingly unprotected. GD would freely admit that he had miscalculated after the Boxer has suddenly righted its askew leg, the prongs on both greaves suddenly sparking in unison along with those on the gauntlets. A large burst of electricity loosed through the attack droid and out in the form of a focused shockwave of thunder all around it. This was enough to knock the assailing claw away quickly, anti-magic or no.
Before it could retract all the way, however, the Boxer reached out and snapped a hand around the tubing. GD couldn't feel panic, but he understood his body perfectly, and this was hardly ideal: the Type I and III's extendable arms were designed for offense, not defense, and this aspect had not changed due to his remodeling. A clean hit while any of them were stretched out could easily sever the hand or foot.
Thankfully, the Boxer decided not to do that, but what it chose instead wasn't exactly nice either. Noticing that he was starting to descend from his leap, it added another hand to its grip and, in one strong throw, hurled him at the nearest wall. It then turned to the other models and pointed at his form in mid-flight. They instantly got the message, firing enough bolts of magic to demolish a small building.
"Fascinating; the unique models can issue orders to more mundane ones." The more GD fought against these robots, the more he became (somewhat painfully) aware that they outstripped the Gadget Droids in nearly every conceivable way. It was quite admirable, and a shame that they had to fight this particular one.
Shortly after he made this observation, GD hit the wall.
Hearing this from over her shoulder, Arturia frowned. "Even laying a hand on GD is no mean feat. These droids attack with lightning, and simulate Strike Arts remarkably well – their resemblance to the Corporal is certainly no coincidence. Have we all been copied in some way?"
She frowned, ducking under a cross punch from one of the Boxers, and then using the flat of Frangir's blade to stop a spinning kick. Sparring with Ace was usually not a great problem, due to his general lack of finesse, but whoever built these units had compensated for his weaknesses at least somewhat. They made sure to attack two at a time, and always took advantage of her claymore's long length and its cumbersomeness at their ideal distance. She needed a broad swing to properly damage these enemies, and they knew enough not to let her have one. Their keeping her movement confined also allowed their comrades to shoot her without retaliation; they were only as bothersome as mere insects alone, but would have to be dealt with eventually. She could take to the air easily…but she would not. If a Verum Knight could not defeat opponents like these on even ground, then they did not deserve to bear the title.
Still, there were ways to combat such tactics. "Frangir, I require a shield. Divinus-"
"Contego."
Arturia outstretched one hand as a large circle of light quickly traced itself into being in the air, becoming a solid barrier marked with the House of Verum's cross. A strap formed from the light magic next, reaching from the top edge to the bottom. Moving her arm into the space, she held the shield out in front of her. "Sword and shield – you have forced me to use both. Cherish that feat in whatever place things like you go to!"
Ignoring her taunt, the two Boxers leaped away in separate directions. This spell was not in their current databanks, but the side-effect it held was blatantly obvious. A claymore, even one that was also a Device, was a sword meant for use with both hands. The disadvantages of switching one to a shield would more than outweigh any defensive gains. Attacking from multiple angles would still be a sufficient tactic.
Once they were out of range of friendly fire, the other units opened fire. None of the shots were sufficient alone to break the mage's shields, but the pressure upon her was clear. Then, like clockwork, the two droids leaped, one aiming for Arturia's left shoulder-bone with a kick, the other punching low toward her gut. According to their calculations, evasion was-
"Frangir, Gladius Form!" Arturia barked.
"Sic."
The sword Device's blade quickly folded up and retracted back into the hilt, shrinking into a short sword – one that Arturia quickly thrust into the lower chest area of the first Boxer. As it fell backward, sparks flying from the wound, she swept the shield backward, scattering the second to the pavement as well.
While the two droids struggled to rise, Arturia lifted the shield up across her face and pointed the blade at the crowd of normal types now peppering her with shots. "Animus…TELUM!"
At the stab, several large spears of light were called into being, launching themselves into the crowd of attack droids. Most leaped aside, but some were ripped into by the magical blades, and shortly detonated from the damage. Seeing this, the droids from the southern area took aim.
"Query: have you forgotten you are engaged with me?"
The droids whirled around and lowered their guns, but far too late. GD shimmered into being from out of thin air, plunging his claws into the two nearest droid's chests. "Statement: I will remind you of that fact now, then." The glow coating his hands grew as GD ripped them straight out through the other robot's sides. "AS: AMF Bolt."
The glow left his hands in a flurry of eight energy bolts each the same size and shape of one of his fingers, many of which ripped through the normal type's armor easily. They fell to the ground, deactivated – GD quickly leaped away before they exploded. The corporal could (and had, several times) sustain numerous explosions and come out unharmed, but he was…somewhat less durable.
Landing, he noticed a burst of light out of his peripheral vision. Gathering more AMF Energy into his claws, GD swivelled and slashed out with both of his claws at the ball of electricity the Boxer had hurled toward him. As the two swings collided with it, the sphere lost its luminosity, along with apparently a great deal of its explosive force; when GD side-stepped deftly around it, it burst with a small, pitiful bang.
"Statement: I will freely admit you models are skilled at gathering data," GD said calmly, facing down the Boxer, "but for your own safety, do not assume I am identical to the others."
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Planet Gardius – Eastern Signal – 1848 Hours
"…wow."
Dwight would freely admit he knew almost nothing about hand to hand fighting, or at least the kind you didn't do in alley-ways with whatever you had on hand at the time. But he could tell just watching Ace through the scope of his rifle that this was someone skilled.
The corporal was currently engaged with another new model of the attack droids, and Dwight had a feeling a certain other lieutenant would have blown her gasket if she'd been sent here. They'd clearly been designed after knights, their already black armor lending itself well to the motif, along with a helm through which their visor eyes glowed, and durable looking arm-guards.
Oh, and there were also the six-foot long broadswords they'd been trying to garrote him with for the last minute or so. Both of the edges were glowing with a light that was very familiar to both officers.
"Lieutenant Lackland isn't going to be happy when she finds out about this!" transmitted Ace as he stopped a downward swing in-between Bolt's gauntlets, and then threw the blade off to the side in time to leap away from a chopping sweep. As with the Boxers, there were only three of the Knights, but that was enough to pin him down – from what Dwight had heard, Ace needed charging time for most of his big spells, and that was time they weren't willing to give him.
Ordinarily a sniper would be perfect for a situation like this. But…Dwight loosed a shot from Gates' barrel (only one; he'd never quite got the hang of creating multiple shots) toward the nearest Knight. It quickly turned, raised its arm, and projected a crackling barrier in the shape of a buckler from the appropriate arm-guard. The shot clashed against it, and dissipated without a scratch on the robot's armor.
He frowned. His projectile spells weren't designed specifically with force in mind, but he had a feeling even the Fire Squad members would have a hard time damaging these guys. Ace had landed a few hits past the shields, and barely left a dent. "They're definitely based on Arturia, and she's shrugged off direct hits from missiles more than once. This could get tricky…"
At least the battlefield was in their favor. The signal had been coming from the top of a skyscraper surrounded by several adjacent ones taller than it. Dwight had set up a barrier, just in case, before teleporting them both up. So far the only hostiles were these three – Dwight had been watching out for any ambushes, but there didn't seem to be anyone else on the rooftops other than them and the droids.
He'd made sure to put himself behind the stairs, not to mention set up a little surprise for anyone who tried to attack from the air. When the inevitable came, they wouldn't catch him with his pants down.
Dwight watched as Ace gathered lightning in his right hand, dodged another sword-stroke, and swung his fist forward in a mighty punch. "Spark Knuckle!"
In response, the Knight shoved its shoulder forward, activating the shield preemptively as it readied the broadsword. Its intent was clear: knock the young martial artist off balance, and then cleave him in two.
This didn't quite pan out. After mere moments of the warring powers, the arm-guard's barrier was burst, the part breaking off along with a significant chunk of the Knights' arm. It went tumbling backward as Ace rolled away from two quick slices courtesy of its brothers. That was the thing about Ace, Dwight had noticed. He certainly had some skill, and a lot of power, but something about the way he fought-
"Like a steam-roller." the Sniper realized suddenly. They were great for crushing things, but horrible at any precision work. That seemed to be Ace in a nutshell.
But Dwight didn't have time to muse on the merits of a particular style of martial arts for long, as a strange sound reached his honed ears from nearby. Something like grinding, or breaking, and it was happening very quickly.
Just as the roof crumbled underneath him, he realized exactly what it was.
His Barrier Jacket – a black jacket and pants that bore more than a little resemblance to his old SWAT uniform – absorbed most of the impact, but he was still dazed when he hit the floor below. It could have been worse; he landed just to the left of a table's worth of computers. Barrier or no, bursting one of them with the fall would have hurt. Not to mention the significant chunk of the roof that had fallen in along with him.
"Well, well, well," said a voice from within the shadows and the kicked up dust, emphasizing every word, "look what the droids dragged in: Dwight Jacobs. Was I blessed when I awoke this morning?"
Dwight groaned slightly, mostly at the man's voice than the pain, but the slight asian man peering at him from behind designer shades would probably think otherwise. Most of Barnes' (Quattro's, technically, but it was the same thing, really) goons wouldn't, actually.
"Dwight Jacobs." repeated the man, toying with a set of Sais in his hands. Behind him, droids approached from out of the gloom – smaller than the other models, their weapons were a rock drill and a pick-axe, respectively. No medal for guessing what had happened to the roof. "Trying to piss off the boss again, huh? He'll be pretty pleased when I drag him in front of you, I'm sure. In a body-bag, a box, a wet sack…there's so many ways, now that I come to think of it."
He flipped one of the sais up a bit, and caught it on the way back down just as Dwight was rising to his feet. He dove out of the way of the bolt of magic, landing sprawled behind the desk as it wiped out three monitors. "You'll excuse me if I pick none of the above, I hope, Riki."
The other man frowned. "Thanks for reminding me to staple your lips shut. You could still be a smart ass no matter how I bring you in." He motioned to the droids flanking him, and they moved forward. "And make no mistake: I will be bringing you in. You're worth at least two promotions."
As the metallic footsteps of the droids approached from both sides, Dwight frowned. "This is shaping up to be a great night."
"Lieutenant! Lieutenenat, are you alright?" Came the Corporal's concerned voice in his head. It was filled with effort, no doubt from his current battle.
"Yeah, Ace, I'm fine,"Dwight thought back, and winced, "shook up, but alright. What about you? Can you handle those three without cover?"
Ace's voice sounded confident. "No problem, Lieute-", he suddenly grunted, "well, maybe a bit of a problem, but I'll take care of them and come help you quick!"
Dwight shook his head, shifting his grip on Gates. The rifle was currently projecting a small, three-dimensional map of the room. "Nah, take your time. These guys won't be much trouble."
"A-are you sure?" Ace's voice sounded unsure. "Well, alright, if you say so – these guys aren't going to stop me, either!"
"Okay then, I'm out. Good luck." Dwight cut off the telepathy, a plan already forming in his mind. He didn't know Riki very well outside of them trying to arrest and kill each-other, respectively, but now he knew that he wasn't a long-term thinker. Barnes, for example, might have thought twice before bringing a sniper into an area with so many blind-spots, and at night.
Riki's eyed widened as Dwight leaped up from behind the desk and fired in the direction of one of the Digger droids. It ducked and dashed forward, plunging the whirling drill through the Lieutenant's shields, his jacket, and into his chest. He screamed as blood gushed from the wound…and then burst into a cloud of blackish gas that swept out to obscure the desk and surrounding areas. As Riki stepped back away from it (you could never tell with magic), he heard the sound of quick footsteps from within. "Dammit. Get him, you idiots."
Oblivious to the hypocrisy of yelling at droids for not doing something when they did everything you told them to and nothing more, the Diggers ran forward into the gloomy smoke. Fortunately they at least had the sense to spread out while they approached – an environment like this might have given a mage a bevy of places to hide, but it would also leave him cornered when they inevitably caught him.
Riki waited, toying with one sai, while the seconds slowly ticked by. After a few moments the sound of a drill started up, and he swiveled toward it like an owl, both halves of his Device raised. There came a bright flash of a magic sigil from within the cloud, and he fired. The next sound to come from the smoke-cloud was a crackle of broken electricity, and it cleared just enough for him to see he'd shot one of the Diggers, held up by a bind, right in the chest. It fell to the ground, smoking.
Gritting his teeth, the criminal looked around. All-around him were the sounds of the droids searching for Dwight, and suddenly it seemed like their clanking and whirring had grown ten times louder. Certainly louder than a normal human. "All of you, stop moving. Now."
He had good ears, if nothing else. Riki listened carefully for something, anyth-
Whirling around, he let loose a pair of magic bolts from the tips of the blades into the gloom. He wasn't sure how Dwight had gotten behind him, but he wouldn't get slip away again. More care probably should have been taken with that assumption.
A gunshot ran out from right behind him, and Riki was nearly tripped up by a Digger sliding back into him on its back. A cluster of the Lieutenant's traditional bullet spells were lodged in its chest, along with a small…orb…
"Oh no."
He managed to shut his mouth before the second smoke screen activated, replacing what had dissipated and obscuring the area around him almost completely. Riki spun around, trying to keep his heart rate down, and ignore an idea that was naggling at him now: maybe instead of him cornering Dwight, he'd just brought him closer to him.
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Planet Gardius – Skyscraper Rooftop – 1851 Hours
No sooner did Ace disengage his telepathy with Dwight that one of the Knight droids smacked him in the back of the head with the butt of its sword, breaking his concentration and the barrier he'd prepared for its friend, which was now poised to chop him in two.
"You guys are really…" Ace thrust out with one hand, catching the blade on the back of Bolt's gauntlet, then kicked out to stop a sweep that would have had his legs sliced out from under him, "starting to…" Electricity built up in both his gauntlets before expelling itself in a wide, aimless burst of force. "TICK ME OFF!" It wasn't anything special, but it did what Ace had intended it for, knocking both Knights away from him. Seizing the opportunity, he lunged forward and grabbed onto the arm of the one in front of him.
Turning, he hurled the off-balance droid right off its feet and toward the other, who had just begun charging him. They crashed together, landing in a heap near the edge of the rooftop.
Clenching his fists, Ace ran toward them, ready to push them the rest of the way. But the third one leaped in the way, shifting its grip on the broadsword toward the bottom end of the hilt. The pilfered light magic's glow grew stronger.
Ace kept running. "Sorry, but that's not going to be enough!"
Not being programmed to register taunts, the Knight ignored him, pulling back its blade as it shifted its stance. When Ace came near, bent low and dove forward, it reacted with lightning speed, thrusting the blade at his left side.
As the blade ripped through his auto-barrier, past his armor and into his left shoulder, Ace reflected that Lieutenant Lackland had probably been holding back a bit in their sparring sessions. Then he was pushing past the blade and behind the Knight's arm guards. He pulled back both fists. "Lightning!" Bolt growled out.
"RUUUSH!" Ace finished, the very element in question building up around his gauntlets as he punched rapidly, changing his hands into glowing blurs. By the fifth punch, the sword had been jarred from the Knight's hand and spent skimming across the rooftop and out of sight. Around the tenth, its armor gave way with a nasty tearing noise. At the fifteenth and twentieth, well…the Corporal went a little overboard sometimes.
Circuit-less electricity pouring from its wound, the droid stumbled backward, toward its brethren – who lunged forward, activating their arm shields and sending the knight flying back in the other direction. Ace's eyes widened as it came toward him, shortly before the weapon exploded.
The Knights immediately spread apart, keeping their swords at the ready. Several other members of this group of mages would have been incapacitated one way or another or badly wounded, but one of the Administrators had given special protocol for this one.
Footsteps echoed on the rooftop a moment later: the protocol had been accurate, it seemed. Ace cracked his knuckles hard enough for them to hear it underneath the gauntlets. "Not bad, but you're going to have to step it up a bit, guys." He grinned. "Which one of you wants to be next?"
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Planet Gardius – Streets Near Angelo Corporation Ballroom – 1855 Hours
Weather fluctuations were nothing new on Planet Gardius, and extremely so lately, but anyone out and about near the festivities that evening would be surprised to find a sudden cold-snap make them shiver. Odd; with the heat-wave going on, even midnight was uncomfortably warm. Oh well. The coldness passed quickly enough, and they were free to continue that night's business.
After all, it was probably nothing.
"This is the place she said it would be…yes. I feel her."
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Planet Gardius – Angelo Corporation Ballroom – 1856 Hours
Quattro's cell-phone buzzed again, and he put it to his ear to hear Katie sounding very pleased. "Mister Quattro, he's almost here. Hmph; he looks just like I remember him, all those years ago…"
He smiled. "Ah, excellent! I've been very much looking forward to meeting the young man since you mentioned him, especially if he's as strong as you say."
"Shall I tell the guards to let him in, sir?"
"Hmmmm…no, I think I'll let it be a surprise. Besides, I'd like to see how he makes an entrance."
"Hee hee, alright then, Mister Quattro. I'll just get ready myself, if you'll excuse me."
The executive nodded. "Of course – good luck!" He snapped the cell phone closed, and looked over to the Section Thirteen Mage's table.
His gaze was met by the shaded eyes of Major Destin. "Don't take this like it's set in stone, guys, but things might be getting started soon." he spoke out of the side of his mouth to his dinner-mates while he took another bite of…whatever this was.
Anton nodded. "Alright, Major, if you think so."
"It better happen quick," Alyssa muttered from next to them, "If I have to sit watching these idiots gawk at me for one minute longer, I'd-"
The Fire Squad Captain was someone who often voiced her wishes, and typically immature ones, but usually just to put them out there. She didn't actually expect it to happen. So it came as something of a shock when the entire front wall of the building exploded.
The first sensation those within felt, even before they saw what had caused it, was the cold: a complete lack of heat that ran down their spines and bit at their flesh. Chilly winds rushed in from outside, accompanied by driving snow and ice crystals that obscured everything. It was like a miniature ice age had suddenly popped up, changing the unpleasant temperature to its complete opposite.
And through it all a figure walked into the hall, utterly ignoring the terrible weather. Taller than most people there, his hair was a deep-blue, and his hawkish eyes were nearly white. This color-scheme was shared by his Barrier Jacket, which seemed based off of eastern earth armor. Hung in a sheath at his belt was a katana; unmistakably a Device.
His gaze swept the room – people shivering as the steely eyes met theirs for but a moment – until it lay on one table in particular. He drew the blade and pointed. "Alyssa."
Anton tore his eyes away from the man and to his captain. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.
"Glenn…"
To be continued…
Who is this mysterious man? What exactly does Katie have in mind for Alyssa, and how will Anton affect it? Will Jeanne, Daniel and Otavi be alright with their battles? Find the answers to these questions in the next chapter, Family Reunion.
…well, that may have spoiled the first one. Oh well.
GeshronTyler – Oh, I dunno: Alyssa would probably disagree with you there, heh. And I dunno if I answered your question this chapter, but hey, maybe I gave you another question? That's always the mark of a good author, isn't it?
Kireas – No problem. I sometimes get that way myself late at night. And yeah, I only just noticed I forgot to bold those lines, thanks. GD's dialogue is sort of based on HK-47's from KOTOR, or the Elcor from Mass Effect: his speech can't really convey emotion that well, so he prefaces it with what he means or what he's talking about. And yeah, I did interpret the AMF Generators double-dutying as shields, since that's sort of what they used them for in StrikerS. They're not that well defined, really, since they're just mooks. Hope I could answer some of your questions well.
Until next time, see you readers.