Bubblegum Crisis : Tokyo Babylon

A fanfiction by Mark Latus

Part 2 of 5

7 pm GENOM MegaTokyo Storage Facility 3
     Dr. Jonathan Hathaway was a very scared man.  His abductors were making no
efforts to conceal their faces.  That meant they didn't expect him to be able 
to identify them later.  Because they'd sedated him several times he'd lost
track of both the time and his whereabouts.  His current location was a 
warehouse packed with GENOM labelled storage containers.  What did that mean?
Had he been kidnapped by his own employers?
     Apart from handcuffing him to a chair none of the six seemed to be paying
him any attention.  Not that they needed to, the chair was bolted to the floor
and he was no Houdini.  They were opening crates and unpacking what appeared
to be powered armour of some variety.  He could overhear them talking, they
were waiting for someone to arrive.  "That ice hearted son of a bitch" was how
one of them referred to the missing man.  Hathaway could understand them because
they were all speaking English.  From the variety of accents (French, Russian,
German, British, Spanish) English was probably the only language they all had 
in common.
     Faintly he heard a car pull up outside.  His captors tensed, then relaxed
at an order from the French woman.  She put down a cel phone and walked to the
buildings front.  She unsealed a small door besides the main receiving dock and
two people entered.  They headed over to Hathaway.
     Hathaway recognised both, he'd met them while on loan to GENOM's French
division.  He could neither believe nor understand this.  "DUMAS?!"
     Dumas smiled faintly.  "You remember me Dr. Hathaway.  I'm flattered."
     "I don't believe this, I've been kidnapped by my own company?  What kind
of a way is that to treat a loyal employee?"
     "Before you get too indignant doctor I should point out that you and I
are the only GENOM employees in this room.  These people are a freelance
mercenary group who've done jobs for me in the past.  They call themselves
Wolfpac.  Why they spell it without a 'k' I have no idea.  This isn't a
GENOM operation, it's mine."
     Hathaway's anger was giving way to fear again.  Dumas continued, "As to
your loyalty to GENOM that is a separate issue.  As a loyal employee I'm sure
you have no hesitation at telling GENOM's new Special Projects Director, 
myself, the truth about the Gilgamesh project.
     Hathaway started to sweat.  "I .. I've already written a full report on
the project's failure."
     "Yes, I read it.  'Unrealistic expectations, mechanics of consciousness
insufficiently understood, technology inadequate, minimum ten year advance in
computer hardware required ' ... those were your main conclusions?"
     "Y...yes.  Our ... the failure was inevitable given ..."
     Dumas cut him off.  "It must have been a tragic blow to Director Mason.
He needed a success to secure his position as the Chairman was very unhappy
with him."
     "Yes., Mr. Mason took it pretty hard."  What was going on?  How much did
Dumas know?  He could have asked all these questions without kidnapping me.
     Dumas nodded to the woman behind him.  No, it wasn't a woman.  It was his
Boomer bodyguard, whatsitsname.  It was carrying a portable monitor.  An image
of Largo appeared on the screen.  "Recognise this man?", Dumas asked.
     Hathaway was sweating heavily now, he was in very deep shit.  "You do
recognise this man", Dumas continued.  "To be more specific you recognise the
body.  It was going to be used to test downloads once Gilgamesh started human
trials."
     Hathaway stuttered but said nothing.  Dumas went on, apparently 
unconcerned.   "I understand your reluctance to say anything.  If I'd help
to create the individual that destroyed three GENOM towers and killed hundreds
of people I'd be far from eager to admit any responsibility."  Images of the 
Berlin, Illinois and Sydney craters replaced Largo.
     "I...I don't know what you're talking about."
     Dumas sighed, why did they always think they were good actors.  "Doctor
you don't fully appreciate your situation.  Let me tell you my theory.  Your
research team was successful, the Gilgamesh process worked.  That meant bonuses
and fame.  Then the Special Projects Director made you a better offer.  I don't
care what he paid or did for you, you're welcome to it as far as I'm concerned.
What I do want is the truth."
     "To continue, you reported the project as a failure.  Shortly after which
the project's hardware disappears from company storage.  I've inherited Brian's
position and there's no trace of where the equipment went in his records."
     "Shortly after the shutdown of Gilgamesh Mason gets personally involved
in a fight with the Knight Sabers.  He dies as a result, not surprising since
he's not a trained power armour trooper.  It was an extremely stupid thing for
to do, unless he had a way out."
     Hathaway was terrified, time to turn the screws a little tighter.  "Did you
know that apart from Dr. Chandra you are the only survivor of the Gilgamesh 
team?  Assuming you consider Chandra a survivor."
     "What!  But I was talking to Isamu just ..."
     "Dr. Otomo was murdered this afternoon.  You see as far as anyone outside
this room knows you died in a car crash yesterday.  I arranged for the Wolfpac
to fake your death.  That left Otomo as the last one who could talk about the
project."
     "You ... everyone thinks I'm dead?"
     Dumas nodded.  "I was hoping to draw a response.  It arrived quicker than
anticipated but confirmed my suspicions.  I've thought all along that the
mortality rate among the Gilgamesh researchers was alarmingly high.  That's a
slight exaggeration, my real suspicions of Gilgamesh began with the appearance
of Largo.  He reminded me far too much of someone I knew."
     "Anyway as I was saying some of your colleagues deaths might have been 
actually due to natural causes or accident.  Morrison certainly fit the profile
for a massive heart attack.  Chavez was nowhere near as good a mountain climber
as he claimed.  However the others, even Chandra's overdose seemed a little too
coincidental.  Fond as she was of recreational drugs she was smart enough to
avoid causing massive, irreversible, brain damage."
     "What ... what do you want from me?"
     "The location you set up the second Gilgamesh lab and any other details
about the project that you suppressed.  If you cooperate you get a shot of
Onidral, are you familiar with it?"
     "N...no."
     "It destroys short term memory for the past 24 to 36 hours.  After that
you turn up battered and concussed in Italy.  You'll have implanted memories
of picking up a hitchhiker who attacked you, left you for dead and stole your
car.  As the body in the crashsite was unidentifiable it will be obvious to
everyone that the thief was the one to die in the crash.  You will be envied
for a miraculous escape from the reaper and resume your life.  You will not
remember meeting any of the Wolfpac or this conversation."
     "And ... if I tell you to go fuck yourself?"
     "Then I turn matters over to Nadia."  The Russian woman heard her name and
waved.
     "You'd torture a man old enough to be your father?"
     Dumas maintained his faintly amused look.  "Torture isn't the best way to
extract information.  There's too much danger the victim will tell you what he
thinks you want to hear in order to stop the pain.  Nadia has some effective
methods for getting people to reveal their secrets.  A combination of the right
drugs and biofeedback equipment.  Unfortunately it's rather destructive to the
human personality.  So I'd advise you to cooperate."
     "You animal, you've got no morals."
     "Perhaps not.  Cynthia did I ever install that ethics program in you?"
     "No sir, you never did."
     "So if I said 'Start pulling Dr. Hathaway's fingers off?'"
     "I'd ask 'Beginning with the index finger?'"
     Dumas grinned.  It was not a pleasant expression.  "I did not pick up my
Iceman reputation by being a warm and friendly guy.  I suggest you remember
that."
     Hathaway managed to say, "You don't know what'll happen to me if I talk!"
     "You're right.  But I do know what will happen if you don't talk, and you're
locked in here with us.  Think it over, you have ten minutes."
     Dumas walked over to Marie, the 'Pac leader was waiting for him.  As 
always Cynthia trailed Dumas.  "In ten minutes if he's willing to cooperate 
hook up the lie detectors and start him talking.  If he's stubborn it's 
Nadia's show."
     Marie nodded.  "OK.  Hope he talks, that ego crushing stuff is ugly.  
He'll probably cooperate, you certainly put the fear of God in him.  Or I
should say the fear of Dumas."
     "A necessary tool.  I assume everything arrived alright?"
     She nodded, "Yeah and Customs didn't even look our way when we unloaded.
I didn't realize just how much of a company town this was.  Hell we could have
driven truckloads of cocaine past and they wouldn't have looked further than 
the GENOM logo."
     "Fine.  Make sure everything is ready.  Hopefully we can conclude this 
tonight.  Then you collect your fee and head home."
     "Sounds good, but is there another way to travel besides the stratjets?
Those suborbital cargo planes are fast but scary.  Boosting up to near orbit
then charging down again is a ridiculous way to travel."
     "They're very efficient."
     "Someday a crashing stratjet is going to take out a city.  Talk about
efficiency then."
     "We've got great abort programs.  So far all out of control vehicles have
been destroyed before they cause major ground level devastation."
     "Thanks a lot.  Now I feel really confident about flying in them."
     Dumas gave his trademark faint smile.  Was he actually amused or just
thought she'd expect him to show some emotion?  "Deal with Hathaway, I'm going
to arrange our cannonfodder."
     Marie nodded, "Fine, just don't waste time looking up old girlfriends."
     Dumas looked at her, his expression unreadable.  "I'm not the romantic 
type.  Not these days."
     Dumas and Cynthia departed leaving a puzzled Marie.  What the hell had 
that meant?  Especially coming from the Iceman.
     Meanwhile Mackie Stingray was walking aimlessly around his neighbourhood.
It wasn't something he did often, he'd just felt the urge to get out for a
little while.  Apart from a few minor cosmetic touches Priss's motoroid was up
and running.  Not a bad day's work, especially for a 16 year old without any
formal training.  He was one hell of an engineer, and was just starting to
realize how odd that was.  For someone his age to achieve all he had was 
unusual.  On top of that business with Nene this afternoon and a few other
things he was starting to scare himself.
     "Hey punk!"
     The voice jolted him out of his introspection.  There were three very
large guys ahead.  Pumped up on one of the new metasteroids that were in with
the gangs.  Their shoulderpatches proclaimed them members of the Skullcrushers.
It was a hell of a time to realize he wasn't armed."
     "How about you give us your money and you don't get hurt."
     No one else around, he was on his own.  Mackie tossed his wallet over.  
Why get killed over money?  There weren't that many bills and he'd cancel the
cards as soon as he got home.
     The big guy in front caught the wallet and said, "That was easy.  Way too
easy.  I think we'd like a little fun."  He pulled a commando style knife out
of his jacket.  His two friends chuckled.
     From Mackie's viewpoint the outside world slowed down.  Suddenly it was
crystal clear what he had to do.  He crossed the distance between them in a 
blur.  The heel of his hand slammed into the first man's nose.  It fragmented
and shot bone shrapnel into his target's brain.  The dead man's hand spasmed
open.  Mackie grabbed the knife as the corpse released it and slashed the 
second man across his exposed belly.  The big man went down screaming.  Sliding
past him Mackie reached the last man as he was trying to pull a gun free from
his jacket.  He was wearing armourlite clothing, it could turn a knife blade.
Mackie punched the knife through the right eye and into the brain.  The man
dropped without a sound.  Mackie pulled the knife free and turned toward the
wounded survivor.  The slashed man was screaming "Oh fuck" over and over again.
He saw Mackie coming for him and managed to beg, "No kid don't God No ..."
Mackie ignored him and stepped behind the wounded goon.  He grabbed the man's
mohawk and pulled his head back.  Exposing the throat.  The knife slashed and
Mackie pulled his arm clear of the blood spray."
     Mackie checked the first man was dead and retrieved his wallet.  No 
witnesses in sight and he hadn't left enough for a DNA trace.  Not that the
police would expend too much effort on these guys.  He wrapped the bloody knife
in his jacket and rushed home.  Soaking the knife in acid would destroy the
blood traces on the knife.  After that he could dispose of it safely.  He had
to get home before the adrenaline and strain of his recent exertions caught
up with him.
     It was only afterwards, safely back in the lab that Mackie regained
control.  He made it to the toilet before vomiting after which he curled up
in a fetal ball.  What had he done?  What had happened to him?
     After shivering for perhaps twenty minutes he uncurled.  It had been them
or him.  Gang atrocities were far too common in this city.  As for killing,
well his sister had killed Mason.  She certainly hadn't let it ruin her life.
On one level he was aware this was rationalization, on another he was 
convincing himself.
     What really scared him was the total loss of control.  Something inside
him took over and knew instantly how to handle the situation.  Sis fought like
that, always two steps ahead of her adversaries. 
     Maybe she had some answers, he had to talk to her.  A vision slid across
his mind, a man begging for mercy before the knife came down.  Whatever took
over didn't believe in leaving survivors.  He could deal with this.  He was in
control.  He didn't feel guilt.  Them or you, remember that.  He checked he'd
stuffed the bloody jacket in the incinerator then headed upstairs.
     When Mackie opened the living room door the conversation stopped dead.  It
seemed Priss and Linna had arrived while he'd been out walking.  Probably just
visiting, though Priss might be here to complain about last night's workout
interrupting another of her shows.
     "Where's Sis?"
     Linna answered.  "She went to check something in the scanner room.  Said
she'd be back in a bit.  So in the meantime we're just enjoying her 
food ... hospitality.  Wish I could afford a place this great."
     Mackie muttered something noncommittal, he wasn't in the mood for 
conversation.  He took a seat by the window and stared out into the night.  He
wasn't really seeing the city lights or his own reflection.  All he kept seeing
was a man dying in a spray of blood.  He was in control, he could deal with
this, everything was fine.
     He was completely unaware of both Linna and Priss watching him.  Priss
shrugged, "Guess he's feeling antisocial tonight."
     "Maybe", Linna answered. "I ran into Nene this afternoon and she said
something about him freaking out on her."
     Priss laughed.  "Come on, no guy's going to freak out over Nene.  Over
me I could understand but Nene?"
     "My, you're modest."
     "Fact of life, guys think with their dicks.  That's why I could get any
guy I want anytime I want."
     Linna studied Mackie, he looked really out of it.  "Think you could get
Mackie interested right now?"
     "Easiest thing in the world."
     "What are you willing to bet?"
     Priss looked at Linna, "What do you suggest?"
     "Your share of our next paying job."
     "Why not, those tend to be few and far between.  Hell our last four 
missions were freebies.  You're on."
     So far so good, Linna thought.  Now if Mackie will just have one of those
scary spells Nene described I've won.  Sylia told her they'll recur for the
next little while.
     Priss slithered over to Mackie.  En route she popped a few buttons to
expose a bit more cleavage.  Now it was just a matter of doing a seductive
voice and his tongue will be dragging on the rug.  Just try not to overdo it.
     "Hi Mackie.  Have I ever told you how grateful I am to you for your repair
work.  I wanna show you my gratitude."
     Mackie was totally absorbed in the scenes replaying in his mind.  "That's
nice."
     Priss heard Linna whisper, "Strike 1."  She glared at her and tried again.
     "We never get to spend any time together.  I want to change that."
     "That's interesting."
     Priss looked at him.  Not a flicker of interest, he seemed to be ignoring
her totally.  This was getting ridiculous, and a little embarrassing.  She 
ignored the call of "Strike 2" and reached for her blouse.  "It's so hot in 
here, I need to cool down."
     Mackie had decided that just sitting there was a bad idea.  The images
seemed to be getting stronger, it was hard to think of anything else.  Maybe
he could take his mind off what he'd done by working.  Concentrating on
something else might do the trick.
     He stood up, "I should get back to the lab, Priss's motoroid needs some
touch up work."  He realized he was talking to Priss.  "Oh hello Priss, excuse
me."
     He left and headed downstairs.  Behind him Linna said "Strike 3" and broke
down laughing.  "He didn't even know who he was talking to ... hahahahaha."
     "Oh shut up."  Priss was angry.  She couldn't turn on Mackie of all guys?
Mr. "I accidentally turned on the security cameras in the dressing room"?
     "Something's wrong with that kid.  Anyway I want to see if my motorslave's
back in commission."
     "Motoroid.  And you owe me your share of our next fee."
     "Whatever."
     Priss headed down.  Entering the lab she saw the motoroid was in one piece
but a patchwork of colours instead of it's usual solid red.
     Mackie put down the spraygun and said "You really should wear a filtermask
while I'm painting.  They're in that locker beside you."
     She pulled one on and Mackie resumed painting.  She stood near the door
away from the spray, unlike Mackie she wasn't wearing coveralls.  He worked in
silence for several minutes.  Then with the first coat complete he paused.
Suddenly out of nowhere he asked, "Priss, have you ever killed anyone?"
     "What?"  Memories of Sylvie resurfaced.  Why the hell had he brought that
up?
     He continued, oblivious to her reaction.  "I don't mean Boomers, I mean
humans."
     "What the hell kind of question is that?  No I've never had to, but if any
guy gave me enough shit I'd take him out.  Remember that."
     "So there's nothing wrong in killing in self defence is there?"
     "What the hell are you asking me for?  Planning on killing someone?" 
     "No.  It's just ... shit not again!"  Mackie clutched his head and 
crouched down in obvious pain.
     Priss watched.  Was she supposed to do something?  She approached and he
snarled at her.  She stepped back an kept an eye on him.  A short time later
he relaxed and straightened up again.
     "What was all that about?"
     "Nothing."
     "It didn't look like nothing."
     "I said it was nothing!  The paint needs to dry a bit more, I'm going
out to the garage to work on the bikes."
     He left.  Priss shrugged, "Fuck you too."  She headed back upstairs.  
Sylia was back and talking to Linna.  "Yo Sylia, your brother's going real 
weird."
     Sylia sighed.  "He'll grow out of it."  Sooner that you think Priss.
     Mackie was retuning his bike when the limo pulled up.  The driver's door
opened and a gorgeous woman got out.  She walked to the passenger door and 
opened it.  The GENOM creep Sylia had been watching repeatedly that morning
got out.
     "We're closed."
     "I'm here to see Sylia."  French accent.  The voice and face were 
familiar somehow.  It wasn't just from the video clip, he'd met this guy
before somewhere.
     The creep spoke to the woman, "Stay with the car."
     "Sir I really should accompany you for your own safety."
     "That's an order Cynthia."
     "Yes sir."  Cynthia sounded resigned to this but far from happy with his
order.  The creep headed round the building for the entrance to the upstairs 
apartments.  Mackie looked at the car.  Euro model, 2030 and already a classic.
He took a step towards it.  Cynthia glared at him, "I'm a combat boomer so if
I say keep your distance you keep your distance."
     Mackie froze.  The boomer muttered to itself, "Nothing to worry about.
Been over for years.  They're enemies now.  This is just mutually beneficial."
     Mackie had been unaware any boomers talked to themselves.  He decided to
ask, "What are you talking about?"
     Cynthia glared at him again, "Galatea syndrome."
     "What?"
     "It's a new mental illness I just invented."
     Mackie backed up towards the exit.  A boomer that thought it was mentally
unstable wasn't the best thing to hang around with.
     Dumas activated the intercom.  He was undoubtably under surveillance from
a lot more than a simple video camera.  That was why he was carrying neither
weapons nor recording devices.  Sylia's face appeared on the screen, her
expression was unreadable.  So were his features.  "We need to talk Sylia."
     She looked at him silently for a moment then unlocked the door.  He 
followed the stairs up.  She met him at the entry to her apartment.
     "Daniel."
     "Sylia."
     It was impossible to pick any emotion out of their voices.  Sylia 
gestured him to enter, time to find out if her worst case scenario was true.
Dumas stepped inside and nodded at Linna and Priss.  "Good evening ladies."
     "Do I need to introduce them?"
     "Linna Yamazaki and Priscilla Asagiri.  If she wasn't working night shift
at ADPolice I imagine Nene Romanova would be with them."
     Linna and Priss looked at each other.  Who was this guy?
     Sylia tensed minutely, that was a very bad sign.  "This isn't a social 
call Daniel.  What do you want?"
     "Would you prefer us to discuss it alone?"
     "If it involves them they have a right to know about it."
     "Very well.  I want to hire the Knight Sabers."
     "What makes you think I'd want to work for GENOM?"
     Priss and Linna were shocked.  Sylia hadn't even tried to deny the charge.
What the hell was she playing at?
     Dumas answered, "This isn't precisely a GENOM operation and is in our
mutual interest.  You'd be working for me and what I want is simple.  Brian's
returned.  I want you to kill him again."
     Sylia looked at Dumas, it was impossible for the others to tell what 
either was feeling.  At length Sylia said, "Sit down, we'll discuss this."

end of part 2

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