Prologue One 2033:
The boomer exploded under the sheer force of the blast. The demon
strode through the explosion unharmed. Futilely, she emptied her pistol
against him. The rounds richoeted in every direction.
"Die damn you!!" She cursed depressing the trigger. The beast
laughed, nonchalantly snapped his finger sending a wave of force towards her.
The pistol was sent sailing across the office. His eyes burned into hers.
She saw madness and fear, the cold feeling, swept through her. A smile
cracked his lips.
"Die," he whispered sadistically. She felt bones shatter and organs
be crushed as the wave struck her flinging her into the wall. The pain
burned across her entire body. Begging, she held her hand out with the last
of her strength. She tasted her own blood in her mouth.
"Chairman..."
Prologue Two: 2034
Fargo opened the crate. A shoulder launched laser cannon sat inside.
He hefted it onto his shoulder checking and double checking the systems.
_________________________
MegaTokyo 2033 \ 2034
A BubbleGum Crisis Fanfiction
Debts
by Deunan (deunan@aol.com)
This is the next part in the
series of fanfiction:
Face-To-Face Patience,
Of Victory and Failure, and Renewal
_________________________
Part One: Warrior's Honor
"C'Est La Vie," He murmured to himself soaking in the shadows of
the booth. -That's Life-. Fargo realized how much he hated that saying. It
was a simple acceptance of things. It was giving up with the hand that's
dealt you. Simple acceptance would not have bailed him out of the shadow
world of espionage, and simple acceptance would not of brought him here to
face Sylia. He looked down at the handwritten note:
TAKE POSITION, FIRE. SINGLE
TARGET(WHITE HARDSUIT): 2x4cm PLATE UPPER RIGHT SHOULDER
DATE: 9/21/34 LOC: SEE FOLDER
A single question came to his mind, How could I have misjudged her
so much? She was so different from the other scum in his world of espionage.
Maybe that's why he liked her. She was on a crusade for justice and freedom
everywhere, a single candle in a world of darkness. She wasn't niece or
stupid like the run of the mill terrorist. That's why he continued working
with her.
Sylia entered the bar making her way to the booth and sat across
from him.
"I see you received the package," She said lighting up a cigarette.
He nodded. "Yes or no? I need an answer." Her tone was straight forward,
cold. Their wasn't the usual thin facade of friendliness.
"Its been a long time since I've been in combat...," He started to
say forcing down memories.
"Your one of the best; I need someone I can trust. Considering your
background, you can keep a secret." Sylia replied taking a long pull. He
took a sip of his drink before continuing.
"I'll do it." His eyes flared with anger and betrayal. Sylia
sighed knowing his answer.
"Then it is settled." She said wearily. He nodded. Their
friendship was over; it had been the moment he received her note. He downed
the remainder of his glass in one fell swoop. Seemingly idly, he went over
the details of his job.
****
Four Days Later: Mt. Fuji Seismic Research Facility, 0200hrs
It was as if he was alive for the first time. His blood seemed to
be afire; the sound of his heart pounded in his ears. Part of him missed
the feeling while the other was disgusted. The feeling of mind, body, and
soul working in sync. was positively accelerating.
Carefully, he crept up to the edge of the tree line. Each move was
measured precisely. It took him twenty minutes to cover two meters; he
couldn't afford to take any unnecessary chances. Through his inferred
goggles, the world exploded at once. Boomers swarmed out from underground
silos pursuing two intruders. Two more hardsuits, White and Blue, covered
their escape in a rapid exchange of fire. Flipping his goggles to ambient
light, he cut down two boomers with pinpoint shots to their necks. -One
charge left.- The sound of a shell whistled in his ears. The explosion
blew White and Blue to the ground.
He gasped in hope. -Call it off. Your armor's weakened.- Their
was a chance. He watched as the White hardsuit took Blue into its arms.
His mouth went dry as the rapid *beeps* came through his head set. The
targeting reticule centered onto a small 2x4cm plate on White's shoulder. He
fired damning himself.
Seconds later, as he was escaping through the forest, a massive
explosion lit up the night sky. He turned back looking at the plume of smoke
rise up. A part of his mind identified the blast as a fuel air explosive,
most explosive thing next to a nuke. Ignoring the smell of burning wood and
melting concrete, he made his way down the mountain.
****
The safe house was totally nondescript. It was a simple ground
level apartment in the middle of town. He produced the keys given to him and
opened the door. A wetness met his hand, blood. He rushed inside ignoring to
check for any dangers. The door closed behind him.
"What took you so long?" A ragged voice called out. Sylia staggered
forward her hardsuit charred and blackened. Her cracked helmet collided with
the floor with a hollow clank. She fell forward into his arms. "Shit!!" He
cursed; blood flowed through long gash in the hardsuit's armor.
****
She awoke from the darkness feeling a comforting warmth engulf her.
A thick comforter covered her bare body. Her eyes found a black "soft suit"
set out for her. She pulled it on and entered the living room of the small
apartment. An open medikit lay on the blood stained carpet with pressure
bandages, tissue staples, and other assorted implements scattered everywhere.
Fargo lightly dozed still garbed in his black fatigues. A machine
pistol lay loosely in his grip. The laser cannon sat disassembled sitting in
its open case. Stealthfully, she walked to a small closet opening it. The
Ebony hardsuit stood inside untampered with except for the black softsuit
once draped over it. She heard him stir.
"Thank you, for tending to my wounds." She said. Fargo stirred from
his light sleep.
"They don't know do they. Your not telling them are you. To them
your dead." He said accusingly. It wasn't a question, but a statement. "I
know it isn't my place to say anything."
"It isn't," she said hoarsely. Suddenly, she felt so tired. All she
wanted to do was end the war, one way or another. Defeat was not an option.
A
long silence followed. His voice turned almost friendly, "I always admired
you. That's why I stayed with you so long. You weren't like the other
bastards that hire me. Cold and ruthless, but you were on a crusade. But I
guess, anything for it takes for victory. At what price?" -Your friends,
family, lover?-
Expertly, she powered it for action. "You wouldn't understand."
She said defensively. -What do you have to prove to him.- A part of her mind
replied to herself. -He's just mercenary filth.- "My humanity," she
whispered.
Fargo ran a hand through his sweat pasted hair. "Look, Sylia..." He
said apologetically. He took a deep breath. -Why the hell am I doing this
...maybe I don't want her ending up like me.- He looked at his reflection
in the apartment's window. All the time he tried to get away from the game ,
and he was still mired in it. A fixer instead of a soldier. A different
piece a different square, same game. He felt so weary of it all.
"I see it in your eyes, whenever you talk about them, the Knight Sabers.
Their more than just a team to you, aren't they?" -Their your family.- His
thoughts conjured images of comrades in arms long dead. He didn't expect an
answer from her. 'How can you do this to them?' He wanted to say; he didn't
need to.
Their was so much either one of them could say in the moment their
eyes met. -He doesn't understand...- She cradled the suit's helmet in her
arm.
"Your money..." She started.
"I won't take your money." She nodded feeling a sense of shame.
"The favor then."
We're even," He replied. The suit seemed to disappear into the
night.
_____________________________
Part Two: Honor Among Thieves
Genom Tower: 2034
The fear surged into an overwhelming tsunami. She bolted awake. For
a moment, only the sound of her breathing could be heard. She closed her
eyes feeling the slight vibrations and click-whirls. Her hand touched her
stomach sensing the warmth. It was all cybernetics from abdomen down. A
gift from Quincy. She cursed him.
'Madigan, you live because I will it. Your death is your own
choice.' His voice still sent a chill through her bones.
A gift of death. Their were times when he was alive that she could
feel her cybernetics throbbing with power. Four ounces of explosives planted
within her. All of it to assure her loyalty. Sighing, she rose from the
bed putting on a robe. She stepped out onto her balcony. A slit twinge of
pain from her artificial stomach greeted her movement.
The phantom pains faded away from her mind as the cold wind cut into
her exposed skin. She didn't mind at all. The pain signified one thing;
she was alive. She beat them, Mason, Largo, and lastly Quincy. Megatokyo
stretched from horizon to horizon from her vantage point on the tower's peak,
hers for the taking. "I won," she whispered to the souls of the damned.
-Did Quincy think I was a fool?- She had watched patiently as scores
of over eager executives die one by one reaching for power. Loyalty, she had
seeming followed orders blindly, never becoming over eager, to establish
herself for one correctly timed move. It could have been of betrayal or of
genius. She simply bided her time. Then, he had to enchain her to his
iron will. Yet, nothing changed with her position save the terror.
"Madigan-sama," The voice chimed through her pager, "their is a
messenger who wishes to see..."
"Later," she cut the comm. technician off. This was her time. Her
vision fell upon the scorched section of ferroconcrete. She then looked up
to the glass window on the ledge above; Sylia's back was turned to her most
likely contemplating Genom's future.
-Sylia Stingray, Chairman- Somehow, the words didn't seem to fit the
women. It did not surprise her that she was a Knight Saber. The evidence
was so obvious most ignored it. Those who did not often disappeared without
a trace. It did not matter anymore. Sylia had given her power.
Money was nothing to her. Power, it was so addictive knowing she
controlled the fates of millions. All of it, given to her with a single
vow of loyalty. It wasn't to Genom, or the people of the world, but to
Sylia. 'How couldn't I give it? I can her trust.'
-A hundred times I could have killed you.- But, she didn't. No one
had ever fully trusted her before. And, she freed her from the terror.
The explosives were removed.
Did Sylia think she would mind purging Genom? It let her consolidate
her new powers. The deaths weighed little on her conscience. She did not
care if it was in the name of good or justice; the purge served her own needs
as well. Now, it was different. The arguments were almost daily.
Their was no darkness in Genom, but the gray remained. Business
could not be weighed by good and evil. The world needed Genom; it was a fact
. But, it needed to be held it check as long as it existed. A new line of
thought crossed her mind.
"How long Sylia, how long can you keep this up?" -Keeping the cancer
of corruption and greed from overwhelming Genom again. -Would you destroy it
and damn the world? Or would you damn your offspring to a life like yours?-
A predatory smile worked across her lips. Either way, she wanted to be there
when it happened.
Epilogue One:
The kid stuck out sore thumb. He couldn't have been more than
eighteen. It was the look in his eyes that made him take a second glance.
The kid walked over towards him eyes darting left and right. -Amateur.-
He looked over to his back up man and shook his head. The kid wasn't a
threat. The kid then looked to him; their eyes met. -My god, its her
eyes!!!- Somehow, he had hidden the surprise. -A brother Sylia, you've made
him into yourself.-
"Your Fargo, aren't you." The kid said, "You knew my sister." He
paused lighting up a cigarette. He took a pull before bothering to reply.
"Yeah, never met someone quiet like her."
Epilogue Two:
Madigan stepped out of the massive office. She saw the look on
Sylia's face. -Your tiring Stingray. You talked about keeping a balance
once. Only a matter of time till you tip the scales of your own making.-
She mused at the irony of it all and wondered what the view would be like
overseeing the world. After all, the balance must be maintained. A
secretary shuddered seeing the smile crack across her lips.
END