Hi! Been a while, but here's the next part of Bobblegum Chromosome. If anyone still reads it, anyway... ^_^ 

    Bubblegum Crisis is used without permission, and is property of Kenichi Sonoda
    X-Men is property of Marvel Comics and is used without permission

Bubblegum Crisis 2032 used without permission

X-Men used without permission

 

            Bubblegum Chromosome Chapter Eight

 

 

            Logan glared up at the armored woman - the one he had wounded earlier - from the table to which he was bound. Thick straps wound about his form every few inches, stealing his leverage. Not even his adamantium claws and healing factor would allow him to escape as he had no way to move.

            "You seem pretty determined to keep me here," he said as she stood over him. There was no damage on the leg of her suit, Logan noticed. Her breath was calm, steady. Too steady, as if she were forcing herself to be calm.

            "Mister Logan," the woman said, "I think it's time we dropped the games. Since we brought you here, you've been nothing but trouble."

            "Sorry if I ain't comfy here, but the last time I was in a setup like this." The claws burst forth, gleaming in the lights from the ceiling. "I got these for a door prize."

            "That metal is also the reason GENOM has put out a bounty for you."

            "Ya think I ain't figured that out for myself?"

            "Mister Logan, even my patience has its limits," the woman hissed. Logan didn't need his heightened senses to know that she was nearing the end of her rope with him. "We are the only reason you are not on a dissection table in a GENOM laboratory. Do not fool yourself into thinking you could evade them on your own."

            "Lady, I've done just that before. You learn some good tricks when you've been hunted as long as you can remember."

            "We are trying to help you, but we can do so only if you help us."

            "Help you?" 

 

            Sylia watched Logan through the HUD of her hardsuit's visor. It was hard to believe that he had managed to wound her so badly in their fight. There was much she wanted to know about him, not the least of which how he managed to recover from fatal wounds so quickly. If he chose not to cooperate, however, then it was a moot point. Sylia could never allow GENOM to get their hands on the metal in his body, no matter what that took. This was the last option.

            "I've researched your past, Logan," she began. She noted how his ice-chip eyes widened slightly. She had his interest, then. "I read about Department K, and about the."

            "Weapon X Project," Logan finished. "What did you find?!"

            "I know that Kathrine Madigan was involved in the project, and from what I saw that night outside her apartment, the two of you definitely know each other."

            "Yeah." Logan trailed off. "I knew her. At least I thought I did."

            "You were lovers, then?"

            "Yeah..."

            "Mister Logan, tell me. Why did you go after Madigan that night? Was it revenge?"

            "No. She has something I want."

            "What would that be?" Sylia asked. Logan looked away, silent as if considering his answer. This was it; she was finally getting through to the stubborn fool. He was at last ready to listen to reason.

            "She has my past."

            Sylia couldn't answer. All of a sudden, a lot of things about Logan were making sense. His motivation for attacking Madigan was far more personal than she had ever suspected. Perhaps this was the bargaining chip she had been looking for.

            "Logan," she said softly, "what if I told you I could help you find your past?"

            "I'm listening," he replied at length.

            "In return for giving me all the information about your abilities and that metal in your body that you can, I will use all my resources to give you the past you seek."

            "How do I know you ain't lying to me?"

            "How do you know I am? Mister Logan, I always keep my word."

            "I've heard that before, but. Okay, on two conditions."

            "What?"

            "You let me offa this damn table. I ain't an animal."

            "How do I know you won't go on a rampage once you are released?"

            "How do you know I will?" Logan replied with a grin.

            "Very well, Mister Logan, but I will not release you from this complex. There are far too many GENOM thugs looking for you. What is your second condition?"

            "That I see who you are."

            "I am sorry; Mister Logan, but I cannot do that. I will not compromise the security of the Knight Sabers."

            "Had a feeling you wouldn't go for that. Oh, hell, can't blame a guy for trying."

            "So, do we have a deal?"

            "Yeah. Now, you gonna let me outta here or what?"

            "Just a moment," Sylia replied as she accessed the security controls from her hardsuit. The straps immediately separated in their middles, snapping back around and into the recessed niches where they rested when not in use. Sylia tensed her muscles, ready to react if Logan tried anything. There was no way she'd let him take her by surprise again.

            "Relax, lady," Logan said as he rose from the table and began flexing his muscles to get the circulation going again. "I said I wouldn't cause trouble, remember?"

            "This way, Logan."

            "So," he said, falling in step just behind, "how's the leg?"

            "Fine." The sooner she got the information, the better.

 

 

            The central air terminal of Mega Tokyo was always packed, and this day was no exception. Crowds of new arrivals and departures jostled for space within the reinforced concrete walls of the main terminal, each dragging various assortments of luggage behind. The noise was deafening, individual voices lost in the mishmash of sound that seemed as if it would push off the high vaulted ceiling.

            The three strode purposefully through the chaos, each nursing a case of irritation at having taken nearly three hours to get through customs, at having their passports checked and re-checked, and then being delayed yet again at the baggage claim. They didn't speak, the noise making conversation all but impossible.

            The man on the far right was powerfully built, as evidenced by the cut of his black three-piece Armani. Neatly trimmed almond hair was combed evenly over his head, just above a pair of stylish sunglasses with opaque red lenses. His face was youthful, almost boyishly handsome yet set in a mask of stone.

            Beside him walked easily the largest man in the entire terminal. Cold blue eyes like steel rested in his severe face. The tailored black sportcoat over his white button-down shirt bulged from the mountains of muscle beneath it. The Russian man drew quite a few stares of astonishment, being easily five heads taller than anyone in the airport and three times thicker.

            The last was a woman. Her mane of snowy white hair trailed majestically behind, billowing slightly with each graceful move of her body. The black leather of her outfit shimmered, accenting her ebony skin and mesmerizing blue eyes. She exuded an air of authority - not mere confidence or arrogance - that proved beyond a doubt that women were hardly the weaker sex.

 

            The air outside smelled of pollutants and smoke, but compared to the stifling confines of the terminal it felt like heaven. The three looked about for the rental car, finding it in the appointed spot.

            "It would have to be a compact," the Russian complained as they walked over to it.

            "Looks like it'll be a tight fight, Peter," the other man chuckled.

            "Screw you, Scott," he grumbled in reply.

            "Now, now, boys," Ororo chided gently, "it beats walking." 

            The three climbed into the blue Nissan - Peter with some difficulty - and the four-cylinder sedan backed out of the parking slot before driving off to the main exit which led to the freeway.

 

 

            Erik sipped from the bottle of water while he ate his small lunch. He sat atop the small stack of crates that the crew had moved out of the warehouse; not bothering to wonder what was inside them. The facility belonged to Max Cybernetics, one of GENOM's subsidiaries. It had probably stored parts for Boomers which were now discontinued due to advances in technology.

            While Erik enjoyed his small break, he pondered his next move. The prospect of attacking a major GENOM facility seemed more and more attractive, despite the risks. GENOM would then know that someone was hunting them, if they didn't already. Erik couldn't afford to let them know who he was, couldn't give them any clue. If they ever learned his identity, he would spend more time fighting off their assassins than actually fighting the demon itself. That was just unacceptable. A mask seemed the most feasible option, but then they would know that someone with beyond-human powers was out for their hides. GENOM would dig in even deeper to defend itself and its interests, making his mission all the more difficult.

            Oh, well, you couldn't make an omelet without breaking some eggs. It was too much to expect that he could remain in the shadows forever. The larger the target, the greater the risk.

            Erik decided that today would be his last in the employ of Michiru and his shady company. The more he delayed, the more time GENOM had to prepare. He had to strike while they were still vulnerable.

            Erik finished his sandwich and hopped down to the pavement. Once Michiru paid him for the day's labors, he was done with this place.

 

 

            Quincy leaned back in his overstuffed chair as the massive doors to his private office closed with a resounding thud. His cold eyes surveyed the smaller man who walked unescorted to his desk.

            "Greetings, Doctor Trask," Quincy said, "It is good to finally meet you."

            "Likewise, Chairman Quincy. I am honored that you would meet with me in person like this." Bolivar Trask was a frail man, to the point that a good stiff wind would likely knock him off his feet. His greasy black hair looked like the man had only made a half-hearted attempt at combing it, his lab coat wrinkled and disheveled. Beady black eyes peered forth from behind thin glasses, scurrying about over every surface.

            "Allow me to be blunt, Doctor," Quincy began, "your new Boomer design interests me greatly."

            "Thank you, sir," Trask gushed. "Its potential is beyond anything currently on the market."

            "That is true. As we agreed, you will be set up in GENOM's main research facility. All the resources and personnel you require will be made available to you. However, despite this generous offer, I feel that your prototype could be made even stronger."

            "How so, Chairman Quincy?" Trask asked. He wasn't insulted by the statement, Quincy observed with some satisfaction, yet intrigued. This was a man truly dedicated to his research.

            "I will reveal that to you later, once the prototype is near completion. Now, if I may ask you a question?"

            "Of course."

            "We both know that this new prototype is a war machine, but it is not truly meant to be sold to whatever private or national army which can pony up the funds. Am I correct?"

            "Indeed you are, Chairman Quincy," Bolivar replied with a sick grin. "This particular Boomer design is intended to protect the whole of humanity from the scourge that threatens it."

            "Mutants." This man was as much a fool as any other, Quincy thought, but his skills would be most useful. 

            "No matter how the World Health Organization tries to deny it, those freaks are as real as you and I," Trask said, his voice laden with venom. "Mankind cannot sit idly by and wait for those misbegotten abominations to marshal their strength to use against us, nor is it enough for people to merely defend themselves.

            "Humanity needs to hunt those monsters down before they can become a real threat. We need a predator, not a protector, which is why I took the liberty of naming this new prototype 'Nimrod'."

            "After the Biblical hunter. Very apt, Doctor Trask."

            "I thought so."

            "You are to begin at once, Doctor. There is an entourage waiting just outside to escort you to your facility."

            "What type are they, if you don't mind my asking?"

            "BU 55-C, four of them. You have nothing to fear, Doctor Trask."

            "55-C, eh? That is one of my favorite designs. I look forward to working with GENOM R&D, Chairman Quincy." With that, Bolivar Trask turned and made his way out of Quincy's cavernous office. When the door closed behind, he allowed himself a smile.

            All was proceeding according to plan. Within the month, Doctor Trask would have Nimrod nearly up and ready. Then, Logan's adamantium bones would be used to develop the alloy needed to make them invincible. Sylia had no idea she was in fact helping GENOM by holding the feral mutant. On his own, the hirsute freak would likely slip between his fingers. The irony of it all was delicious.

            Besides, even if Logan managed to escape the Knight Sabers, it was improbable that he would leave Mega Tokyo. Kathrine Madigan held the keys to his past; the one thing Logan wanted over all others. If all else failed, he could use that to control the mutant.

            Quincy knew Madigan's psych profile well, having studied it extensively before even allowing her into his office. She had been ordered to seduce Logan, to keep him unaware of what was truly going on in the organization he was once a member of, but that wasn't the only reason she had made love to him for so long. Kathrine Madigan - refined and powerful as she was - liked men who were rough around the edges. Were Quincy not what he was, he would have wondered if Madigan had in fact begun to fall in love with Logan when she had betrayed him.

            However, he was what he was, and the question was academic. If he had to sacrifice the woman, then so be it. Countless many more would burn in the flames of the new world's birth, so what was the importance of a single female?

 

 

            "How big is this place?"

            "It suits our needs," Sylia said in response to Logan's question. The man was dressed in a simple jumpsuit - a spare that was too large for any of the others - and watched her from across the table in the main conference room.

            The chamber itself was Spartan, merely a table and several chairs in a thinly carpeted room. The Knight Sabers rarely used this room, instead meeting in Sylia's apartment. The rumors started by the superintendent of her building hardly bothered her. If that overweight deviant thought that the girls went up there for wild parties, then so be it. 

            "Now, Logan, about that metal."

            "I don't know much," he said, "but I do know it's called Adamantium."

            "Adamantium," Sylia repeated. "After the mythical invincible metal."

            "I don't know about any myths, but this stuff can take a beating."

            "So, Department K implanted it in your body."

            "Yeah."

            "Mister Logan, how is that possible? From the information I have, such a procedure would be lethal."

            "Oh, c'mon, you ain't noticed?"

            "I see. So, your unusual healing ability is what allowed it?"

            "You know it," Logan snarled.

            "How did Department K give that ability to you?"

            "Say what?" Logan asked, his face genuinely confused.

            "What kind of upgrade did they give you?"

            "What upgrade?" Logan shouted. "All those bastards gave me was this metal!"

            "Then how do you explain your unusual healing power? Genetic upgrading is still a new science, and also highly restricted."

            "Come off it, lady, don't you watch TV?"

            "Pardon me?"

            "Don't give me that crap," Logan snarled. "You gotta know this."

            "Know what, Logan?" Sylia asked. She had a very bad feeling about this.

            "I've always been a fast healer," he said as he balled his fists atop the plastic table. "I'm a freakin' mutant!"

            "You are, then?" Sylia felt her brain twist. She had suspected that Logan was one of those so-called mutants, but had no hard proof of it. It would have been easier if Logan's abilities were the result of illegal science, but for those said powers to be the result of something touted by tabloid TV.  "I thought you didn't remember anything about yourself from before the Weapon X Project."

            "Lady, I still know a few things. Not much, mind you, but a little."

            "Like where you were born or your surname?"

            "I wish I did. I just have a few images, a couple of impressions. I ain't got much in the way of hard facts." Logan's voice was soft, less sure of itself than was usual with the hirsute man. His missing past was a very sensitive subject, Sylia knew.

            "Tell me, Mister Logan."

            "Just call me Logan, okay? I'm gettin' tired of this formal stuff."

            "Very well, Logan. Have you encountered any other mutants after Weapon X?"

            "A few," he replied with finality. Logan was obviously not willing to discuss other mutants he knew. Sylia almost let it drop, when a horrible idea came to her mind. Under other circumstances, she would have disregarded it as her imagination trying to run away with her.

            "Logan," she began, "about these other mutants."

            "Save it, Lady," Logan snarled. "I ain't tellin' you about them. Besides, far as I know none of them are in Japan anyway."

            "What if you're mistaken?"

            "Say what?"

            "Have you ever come across a mutant with magnetic powers?"

            "Nope. Not to say that there can't be one, but I ain't met any."

            "I see." He was telling the truth, Sylia could see that. Damn.

            "What brought that on?" Logan asked.

            "Nothing."

            "Bullshit, Lady. You wouldn't have asked if you didn't think it meant somethin'."

            "Very well." Logan is an observant little fellow, she thought. "You are, of course, familiar with the recent incidents of Boomers being destroyed by an unknown party."

            "Yeah. That still goin' on?"

            "It seems to have tapered off, but that does not mean this is the end."

            "Sounds good. So, ya think this is some kinda magnetic mutant?"

            "I must admit, the thought did cross my mind." Sylia felt the conversation leaving her control. She couldn't just have a casual conversation with this man. He was, for all intents and purposes, a prisoner. The thought that she had to hold him here repulsed her. That was something GENOM would do. However, the circumstances allowed for nothing else. If she were to keep him here and out of GENOM's reach, she could not allow herself to get over friendly with him.

            Sylia had to admit - to herself if to no one else - that Logan did exude some sort of attractive force, especially when he showed the hint of vulnerability within the savage fa�ade.

            That's it, she thought sternly. This conversation is over.

            "I will talk to you again later, Mister Logan," Sylia said as she rose from the chair. "You are mostly free to roam the complex, but there are certain areas you will not be permitted to enter."

            "Like?"

            "You'll know when you come across them. Until then, there are some magazines in that cabinet for you to read," Sylia said as she pointed to the squat counter on the west wall. She turned to leave when Linna's angry voice screamed over her commlink.

            "Sylia! Logan's escaped again!"

            "No, he hasn't, Linna," Sylia replied calmly.

            "You're not looking at the video from his room!"

            "I am looking at Logan himself."

            "What?! Hang on, Priss and I."

            "We are in the secondary conference room, and Logan has no intentions of leaving. In fact, he has chosen to cooperate."

            "What?" Linna managed after a few seconds of silence.

            "Get Priss and Mackie. Meet me in the lounge. I have some interesting information." And a few very frightening ideas, she didn't add.

            "Got it. Out."

            "Who're you talkin' to?"

            "Pardon me?" Sylia asked, not bothering to turn around and face him.

            "I heard ya muttering in that helmet."

            Sylia's heart nearly stopped. Logan's hearing was *that* acute? How much had he heard? Damnit, how big of a blunder was this?!

            "Couldn't make it out, though. That thing's got some great sound insulation."

            Sylia nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, he was telling the truth. Even if he had made out what she was saying, he would have no real clues to the identities of the Knight Sabers. Maybe.

            "We will speak again later. Until then, try to keep yourself entertained." And I will take even greater care not to underestimate you, she amended silently. 

 

            Logan reclined in the hard plastic chair and crossed his ankles on the off-white table. Keep himself entertained? Just how in the hell was he gonna do that? He seriously doubted that this place had a pool table handy, and magazines weren't his style.

            "Wish I had a stogie," he said aloud. He had gone for days without a cigar or a shot of bourbon. Even with his healing factor, he still liked his vices. He had a lot of pent-up steam to let off, and no way to do it without pissing off his. jailers he had to say. Even though that armored Knight Saber promised to help, he was still a prisoner in this place.

            Playing along was his only chance. But soon they would slip up and give him the one clear shot he needed to make his escape.

            The more he thought about it, the more difficult it seemed. These Knight Sabers - especially the one which kept talking to him - were no joke, nor were they idiots. Getting out wouldn't be easy, not after his last attempt.

            Logan rose from the chair. Might as well see as much of the place he could. Anything was better than just sitting around. Besides, he might find something to keep him entertained.

 

 

            "Thanks for the food, Celvice," Sho said as he shoveled in one mouthful of beans after another.

            "You're welcome," she replied, watching him eat from across the table. "When's the last time you ate, Christmas?"

            "Been awhile," he replied after his last spoonful was demolished.

            "So, it was good?"

            "Great!" he exclaimed as he pushed the bowl away. "Where are we, anyway?" The room was lit by a single bulb which glared down on the concrete floors and walls. Aside from the table and chairs, the only other furniture was a dingy cot on which he had awakened earlier.

            "This is our hideout," Celvice replied. "It's our place."

            "Okay. but where is it?"

            "It's about a block away from the housing projects that GENOM tore down a few months ago."

            "Oh." Sho fought down the bitter memories of what had happened to him there.

            "What were you doing at the site, anyway?" Celvice asked.

            "Well." Sho looked into her blue eyes, and felt something strange. Just seeing her made him feel. different somehow. "I don't really know. Things have been real weird lately."

            "Uh-huh."

            "So, why was that guard chasing you?"

            "Oh. Well, that is. um."

            "What did you do?" Sho - for some reason - really wanted to know this.

            "I kinda messed around with some of the equipment and."

            "Why?"

            "Y'see," Celvice began, her delicate cheeks blushing, "we - all of us - mess around with GENOM's construction equipment."

            "Why?"

            "You're just a bunch of questions, aren't you?" she replied with a forced wink. "Anyway, we all used to live in those buildings GENOM tore down. We lost our homes to them." Celvice's voice became hard and cold as she told the story. "So, all of us kids do anything we can to give them a hard time."

            "I understand," Sho said, really meaning it. "They did the same thing to me."

            "You used to live around here?" Celvice asked in astonishment.

            "Yeah." Sho couldn't stop the tears that leaked from his eyes. He thought of his mother, a woman who had been the center of his entire universe, running back into that building to get their savings for a better life, only to.

            "Sho? Sho, what's wrong?"

            "My mom went back into one of those buildings," he began, unable to stop himself, "she wanted to get the money she'd saved up for us to move to a better place."

            "Oh. Oh, God, Sho, I'm so sorry," Celcvice said gently. A slender hand appeared on Sho's shoulder, shaking in time to his own sobs.

            "They. GENOM. GENOM KILLED HER!"

            Sho finally broke down, allowing the tears to flow freely as he slammed his head down onto the table. All the while, he could barely hear Celvice giving her condolences, wrapping her arms around his heaving shoulders and holding him tight. Priss had done this once, he recalled, when he had become old enough to know how bad the situation really was. She had been the only other to show him unconditional kindness and love.

            And he had hurt one of her friends because of what he could do. The guilt plunged him even further into despair. He desperately hoped that Nene was okay, but knew deep down that he could never face Priss again. His only friend left in the world was lost to him, all because of what he was!

            "What did you say, Sho?"

            "I'm. all alone now."

            "No. No you're not. Look at me, Sho."

            He obliged. In Celvice's eyes were only kindness, something he didn't deserve.

            "You're with us, now. You're not alone."

            His sobs gradually reduced to whimpers and then to mere sniffles as Celvice cradled his head on her shoulder. He could feel the pain and shame begin to recede as he cried softly into her stained blouse.

            "Are you okay now?" she asked after an interminable span of minutes.

            "Yeah, thanks." Sho's eyes still stung from the tears, his nose clogged from all the sniffling and crying, yet he really did feel a little better.

            "Good," she said with a warm smile that nearly made Sho's heart skip a beat. "When you're ready, come see me. I'll introduce you."

            "Thanks, Celvice. I'd like that."

 

 

            "Sylia, have you lost it?" Priss asked incredulously. Linna and Mackie joined Priss in giving her uncomprehending stares.

            "No, I have not. However, it is an avenue we have yet to explore," she replied, taking a sip of tea. She still wore her hardsuit - sans the helmet - and balanced the saucer on her weapon arm. "We have seen evidence of this with Logan, have we not?"

            "Hold on, sis," Mackie said. "You think that Logan's senses and fast healing are because he's some kind of mutant? Is that suit on too tight?"

            "Mackie," Sylia began, fighting down her sudden rush of irritation. The past days had been pure hell on all of them. Everyone was that much closer to the edge after what had happened to Nene, Priss even moreso due to Sho's disappearance in the same incident. She was the leader, the cool and calculating one. Sylia Stingray had to appear as ice, cold and calm. Of all of them, she could least afford to vent. Sylia knew that such was far from healthy, but that was just the way it was. "There is no ready explanation for Logan's unusual abilities. The adamantium skeleton he possesses is the only sign that his body has been tampered with in any way."

            "Maybe his powers are a new kind of cyberware," Linna offered, "or maybe someone out there has come up with some kind of bio engineering tech."

            "Those are two excellent ideas," Sylia acknowledged.

            "Logan said it himself," Priss added, "he doesn't remember jack about what those Weapon X fucks did to him. Maybe that's part of it."

            "That is also a good point," Sylia could feel that she was losing this argument. She should never have mentioned anything about mutants. The other Knight Sabers just weren't willing to accept it.

            Sylia was rather reluctant herself, truth be told.

            "At the next opportunity, I will take a sample of DNA from Logan and test it. I may find something." She had done so once already, searching for new types of cyberware that operated on a genetic level. Nothing had come up. Perhaps she had taken the wrong avenue? She was grateful that none of them had asked why she had brought any of this up. If they were unwilling to accept any kind of explanation relating to mutants, then they would never believe her wild idea about the Boomer Killer being a mutant himself.  "Anyway, from what I hear Nene is doing much better. Linna, would you please take Priss to see her?"

            "Sure thing, Sylia," the raven-haired woman replied with a smile. Sylia saw Priss smile as well. The girl needed this. She had been cooped up in the facility beneath Raven's Garage with no respite. A chance to get out and check on Nene would do her a world of good. Sylia wished she could do so herself, but there were far too many things to check on. Whatever was going on, she could feel it looming on the horizon like some great demon finally awakened.

            Why did that thought suddenly give her a cold chill?

            "Mackie, how are the motoslaves holding up?"

            "Good as they're ever gonna get," he replied with no small air of pride. "My own suit's good to go, too."

            "I will bear that in mind, Mackie, thank you." With Nene out of action, Mackie's battlesuit would be needed more than ever. Sylia wished that it was not needed at all but there was nothing she could do about it.

 

 

            "So, Daley, any luck?" Leon asked as the two sat down in the small delicatessen. The food here was as far from kosher as a deli could get, but there were some things that the Japanese would never be able to duplicate. Leon had once frequented an authentic deli just before the Second Kanto Quake. This place tried, but simply couldn't get it right. Looking around the small restaurant, however, there were quite a few people who thought they got it just fine.

            "Nope. No clue as to who attacked Nene." Leon had the sneaking suspicion that Daley was hiding something, but let it go. His partner never hid anything from him before, right? Maybe he was just being paranoid, and for good reason of late. "I managed to sneak a few minutes with her after she woke up, but nothing made sense. I'm planning to go back later today."

            Leon sensed something hidden in those words and, again, let it go. The two of them had been so stressed lately. Maybe he was just jumping at shadows.

            "Same for our mystery man," Leon said. "I shook down nearly every homeless shelter within each attack, and I'm still empty-handed." Damnit, who was this guy?

            "Leon, that case is pretty much on the back burner right now," Daley said unnecessarily. "The chief wants whoever hurt Romanova served up on a silver platter with a side of fries and ketchup."

            "I'd settle for fake parsley myself," Leon said, grimacing at his own joke.

            "That was just tasteless, Leon," Daley admonished. "I'd prefer a glass of red wine."

            "Daley." Leon said while trying not to chuckle.

            "Sorry."

            "I'm thinking that maybe he was just a red herring," Leon said after swallowing a bite of corned beef on rye. Or, at least, what he hoped was corned beef on rye. 

            "Oh?"

            "So far, there's been nothing. Clancy's aerodyne isn't any help either. We still can't recover any data from it."

            "At least things have been quiet lately," Daley offered. "No rogue Boomers and none showing up magnetically dismembered. Think it's stopped, Leon?"

            "Somehow, I don't think so." Maybe they've just decided to lay low for a while before starting up again. What the hell was this all about?

 

            Daley ate another bite of salad, one thing this place did right. He was more or less a vegetarian, but still liked milk and cheese. He was far from a vegan, but still wasn't big on meats. On occasion he would eat red meats or pork, but only if he was either in the mood or trying to bed a cute guy. Leon was certainly that, but he knew that their relationship was professional. Sure, they were friends on a personal level but they would never be more than that. Leon was as straight as they came, and more was the pity. 

            Oh, well, Daley liked it just fine the way it was.  No matter how cute Leon was, Daley knew that any kind of sexual aspect added to their existing relationship would only add complications. Besides, Leon was as good a friend as anyone could hope for.

            But that didn't stop Daley from engaging in daydreams from time to time.

            He still didn't want to broach the subject of what he had managed to put together. He couldn't afford to have Leon think he was crazy. With more evidence, maybe. But how much longer could he keep this a secret? He had to let his partner in on it sooner or later. Once he found some incontrovertible evidence, then he could let Leon in on it all.

            But, Daley couldn't figure out what the hell was happening. There was something else behind it all, he could sense it.

 

 

 

            "Hi, girl!" Came Linna's cheerful voice as the door swung open. Nene nearly dropped the remote for the television, surprise soon giving way to giddy joy as Priss followed Linna into the room "Feeling better?"

            "You know it!" Nene giggled as the two drew up to her bed and embraced her gently. "The doc says I'll be good to go in another day or two."

            "Glad to hear it," Priss said warmly as she took advantage of the sole chair in the room, leaving Linna to stand. Nene looked into Priss's eyes inadvertently, and noticed that the grin on her lips came nowhere near her troubled eyes. Nene became filled with dread. She knew what this would all be about. While she didn't doubt for a second that the other two women were glad to know that she was okay, they would still want to know what happened.

            Nene wanted to know that as well.

            The conversation - for the moment, anyway - didn't show any inclination of going where Nene knew it would. Part of her wanted to keep making small talk. For a reason she couldn't divine, she simply didn't want to recall. She had tried once or twice once the nurses had cut back her pain medication, but something always dragged her back.

            After what may have been minutes or hours, silence grew to fill the small room. Nene, Linna, and Priss all looked at each other uncertainly as if unwilling to ask what had to be asked. Finally, Priss spoke.

            "Nene, what happened to Sho? What did that Boomer want with him?"

            "Boomer?" Nene was even more confused. Had there been a Boomer there? Why couldn't she remember clearly?

            "Nene," Linna prompted, "do you know why a Boomer would want to kidnap Sho?"

            "It wasn't a Boomer." Nene wasn't certain if she had said it out loud or merely in her own mind. Some details were emerging from the jumbled marsh of her memories of that night.

            "It wasn't?" she heard Priss ask. "Then who the hell was it?!"

            "Priss!"

            Nene barely heard Linna's harsh whisper as memories rushed from the deep recesses of her mind to flash in front of her eyes.  The knives were flying once more, the invisible force hitting her, pulling her, hurting her!

            And at the center of it all, the one thing that her mind didn't want to remember.

            Nene opened her eyes as the pain in her head reached its crescendo, and she knew. 

            "It was Sho."

 

            Priss felt her heart skip several beats at Nene's whispered words.

            "No way."

            "It was, Priss."

            "How the hell could one boy do that kind of damage?!"

            "I don't know!" Nene shouted back. "Damn it, I don't know! He was screaming that his head hurt, and then everything started flying around!"

            "Nene."

            "Linna, I know what I saw. I was there, you weren't! I know it sounds crazy, but that's how it was!"

            "Ladies," said a nurse as the door swung open. "Please be quiet."

            "Get well soon, Nene," Priss said curtly as she rose and stalked out.

 

            "Priss, will you wait up?"

            "What kind of drugs were they giving her?" Priss asked as she stopped past the hospital's main entrance. "There's no way Sho could have done any of that to her!"

            "I know that," Linna replied as she came up beside her friend, "but that's what Nene believes. We were told that she doesn't clearly remember what happened."

            "Yeah." Linna was right, Priss thought. "But it still just."

            "Pissed you off?"

            "Yeah."

            "We'll find him," Linna said softly. "Don't worry about that."

            "Everything's just so fucked up lately. Nene, Sho, and now Sylia talking about mutants. What the hell's next?"

 

-------------------------------------

 

            "Back so soon?" Reika asked as Erik sat on an unoccupied stool. The sun was finally setting, the towering skyscrapers blocking the waning light and giving the shadows a head start on the night.

            "Yes. Wanted good dinner."

            "Well, you came to the right place," the bouncy girl replied as she set to making his usual order.

            "It's not like you to stop by at night," Miki said as she came out to the front. "What's the occasion?"

            "Am leaving in the morning. Want to say thank you for food."

            "Well, you're welcome," the taller woman replied with a smile and a Pepsi. "Where ya heading?"

            "Better opportunity elsewhere," Erik replied, misunderstanding the question.

            "Really? What're you gonna do?" Reika flipped the pancake - Erik had given up on even thinking about its proper Japanese name - and tossed the pork around on the hotter side of the griddle.

            "Personal business," he replied. It was true enough.

            "I got ya," Miki said to him. "Anyway, good luck, Erik!"

            "Thank you." Erik broke apart the chopsticks and ate his last meal with Reika and Miki slowly. He wanted to remember those two, the kindest people he had met in a long time.

 

----------------------

 

            "I heard about earlier," said a strange boy to Sho as he sat in the remains of the old church Celvice and the others had made into their hideout. He took his eyes off the enormous stone cross carved into the wall behind the pulpit to face the speaker.

            "You did?"

            "Yeah. Celvice told us that you helped her get away from that guard. How'd you do it?"

            "I surprised him." That wasn't really a lie, was it? 

            "I'm Sota," the boy said, offering his hand. Sho took it, giving his own name.

            "You're already popular here," Sota went on. "Celvice is kinda like everyone's big sister. The little kids are crazy over her."

            "Um, why are you guys here? Where are your parents?"

            "Most of us ran away," Sota replied sadly. "Some of us left 'cause our parents didn't want us anymore."

            "Oh."

            "GENOM ruined our lives, Sho. It's time someone made them pay."

            "Yeah." Sho could definitely relate to that.

            "It's a little late, isn't it?" asked a soft voice from the open trap door. Celvice came into the light of the candles, smiling softly at the two. "Sota, I need to talk to Sho for a while."

            "Okay, Celvice. See you tomorrow!"

            "Good night," she replied as Sota vanished down the trap door and shut it behind him. Sho watched as she eased into the pew where Sota had once sat, her smile suddenly gone and a puzzled frown in its place.

            "So, what's up?" he asked.

            "Sho, I'm grateful to you for saving me earlier," she began, "but how did you do it?"

            "What?"

            "I've never seen anything like it before. That guard was thrown back, and you didn't even touch him! Your eyes were glowing white when you hit him. I want to know how you did it."

            "I don't know," he said quietly, returning his gaze to the cross. "I just did it, I guess. Celvice, I can't explain it. Thanks for the food." With that Sho rose from the pew. He couldn't stay here.

            "Where are you going?"

            "Away. I'm not normal, Celvice. When things like this happen, I only hurt people."

            "You don't have to leave," she said as a hand fell on his arm. "You don't have to talk about it, either."

            "I have to!" he exclaimed, tears welling in his eyes. "I can't control it! I don't wanna hurt anyone!"

            "You won't, Sho," Celvice whispered. "Stay, please. At least for tonight."

            Sho stood rooted in place. He had to go. He knew what would happen if he stayed.

            But he was tired of scavenging for food, tired of sleeping in the cold with one eye open.

            He wanted to be with Celvice. That thought came as a surprise.

            "Okay," he relented. "One night."

            "I'm glad to hear that, Sho."

 

----------------------------------------------

 

            "MOVE IT! MOVE IT!" Leon screamed at his unit as the alarm klaxon blared out into the parking level of the ADPolice tower. The men under his command scrambled into armored personnel carriers, each carrying heavy submachine guns and HEAT launchers with them.

            "Goddamn Boomer," he snarled as he leapt into the lead car and gunned the engine. "I knew they'd been too quiet lately!" The car's tires stopped screaming and gained purchase on the concrete, four APCs falling in behind him. At least it wasn't in a densely populated area this time.

 

            "Sis, we've got another Boomer!" Mackie called from the digital scanner. "Looks like a combat model, another 55-C!"

            "Where?"

            "Near Old Town, other end of the business district!"

            Sylia thought for a moment. The van could get them there in just minutes, and one Boomer didn't need the whole team. The last two Boomers to go rogue had been destroyed by that unknown magnetic weapon. Could they learn something about who was behind it?

            "Mackie, prep the van and tell Priss to suit up. Linna will stay behind to guard Logan."

            "You got it, sis."

 

            Erik awoke suddenly, heart thundering in his chest. He breathed in deep gasps, the power building inside his trembling body. For a moment he sat there on the hard, smelly cot as his mind tried to separate reality from nightmare.

            "Just a dream," he whispered into the blackened room after a few moments. The same dream which haunted his sleep every night of the final moments of his home and family. The explosions had been from the past, that was all.

            "What the hell?" he gasped in his native tongue as he heard it again. This wasn't a dream? Skin tingling from fear, Erik slid on his boots and felt his way to the boarded-up door.

            The smell of smoke hit him immediately just as another, louder, explosion ripped the night apart. This had to be another nightmare, it just had to be!

            "SECOND SQUAD, MOVE TO QUADRANT EIGHT!" Erik glanced out of the alley as armored ADP officers charged past alongside six-wheeled APCs, and Erik saw another armed group - one from his past - overlay itself over the almost surreal scene before him.

            He shook his head violently, again having to separate past and nightmare from present and reality. ADPolice officers running around like this meant a boomer was on the rampage.

            Erik stepped to the mouth of the alley and glanced up in time to see an aerodyne disappear in a ball of orange flame to fall to the earth below.

            Right in the area where Miki and Reika lived.

            "No!"

 

            Priss flexed her fingers as she sat in the back of the Silk Dolls van, glad to be wearing her hardsuit again. There was a Boomer out there who was going to regret ever having met her tonight.

            "Mackie," Sylia said, "let me know the second you pick up any magnetic disturbance."

            "Sure thing," his voice said over the speaker.

            "How much longer?"

            "About five minutes," Sylia replied. "Are you up for this?"

            "You know it!" Priss saw her nod once before putting on her helmet.

 

            The line between past and present grew increasingly more blurred with each running step Erik took through the alleys. The shouts of men in Mega Tokyo merged with the screams of women and children from Austria years ago as more explosions ripped the night.

            Not again, he beseeched a God he hadn't prayed to in years. Please, God, don't let this happen again!

            Erik emerged from the alley to a scene that had to have been painted in hell. Cars were overturned and burning, steel funeral pyres for whomever had been in them. Building fronts were smashed in, mortar cracked and ruined alongside streets strewn with disfigured corpses of ADPolice and unlucky civilians.

            He knew he was too late, but he turned and ran into the building next to him anyway. Without thought, he surrounded himself in a force bubble - one of the first things he had learned to do with his magnetic powers - and floated through the flickering flames. The propane tanks had exploded, the still-rational part of his mind said as he flew over the rubble of the crumbled walls.

            Form beneath a concrete slab, a bloodied hand was rapidly blistering. Erik was unaware of the tears streaming down his stubbled, dirty face as he mentally grasped the steel supports within the mortar and commanded the whole mass to move.

            "No."

            He closed his eyes against the sight too late to prevent it from burning into his memory. Their crushed bodies, entwined in a last loving embrace, he knew would haunt his nightmare with the other hellish images.

            They deserved so much better than this. Did they have any family to remember them? Any friends? Erik fell to his knees, gently lowering the slab back atop them. This was their tomb now. 

            He knew he should say something over them. Even though he was no longer a practicing Jew- much less a Rabbi - he should at least say Khaddish. But the words would not come to him, now. Try as he might, his damaged faith could not find the presence of his God in the destruction. He could only find the familiar rage, the seductive hate that he had known since his home had been destroyed.

            The wall behind him burst inward, the heavy metal footfalls of a Boomer bursting the bubble of emotional torment within him.

 

            "Whoa, I got it!"

            "Where?" Sylia asked as she leapt down from the squat building, Priss close behind.

            "Magnetic spike, one block north! It's freakin' HUGE! Even worse than the first one!"

            "We're on it." Sylia cut off the commlink, then to Priss, "Be careful. Our hardsuits may not function properly with so much interference."

            "I got it. Now let's find this bastard. It's time we got some answers!"

 

            "All units, we've found the Boomer! Converge on Sector 5 now!"

            Static was the only reply to Leon's command over the radio.

            "What the hell? Check your."

            "Sir!" a sergeant said to his left, "Mine's out, too!"

            "Most of our stuff's on the fritz!"

            Leon checked his watch, finding it stopped.

            "Magnetic field. STAY SHARP! We."

            "HOLY SHIT!"

            Leon looked ahead and felt his breath catch in his throat.

 

            The hatred washed away all traces of mercy or pity as Erik sent the Boomer spiraling into the side of a building. Vengeance was not enough, not for this unfeeling monstrosity. Pain was useless against steel, but that didn't stop Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, the Third from exacting his price.

            The steel supports were ripped from the ruined slabs of concrete, sailing out like missiles to embed themselves deep in the Boomer's cobalt blue body. He was only vaguely aware of his own screaming as a once state of the art cyberdroid was turned into a voodoo doll.

 

            "Sylia."

            "I see it, Priss. I just don't believe it." Static lines shot through the images in their helmets in increasing intervals as system after system struggled against the electromagnetic noise that was assailing them.

            "Looks like the ADP can't believe it either," Priss said as another wave of steel support rods impaled the wildly struggling Boomer and from the wreckage of the smoldering building across from them stepped a lone man.

            "The interference is getting worse," Sylia said as the suit's EM shields struggled valiantly to keep up. "If I didn't know better."

 

            Leon stared in open-mouthed shock at the floating, screaming Boomer as the strange man came into the light. White hair, dark coat, foreigner. Was that the guy Clancy Ricks saw on the roof that night?

            "Sir."

            "Hold your fire, at least until I figure out what the hell's going on!" Leon shouted as the Boomer roared and fought. The white-haired man extended his arm toward the struggling machine, hand clenched in a tight fist.

            His fingers flew open as the Boomer's insides were violently strewn in every direction outward.

            "Good God." Leon gasped at the grotesque sight. For the first time in years, he was at a total loss for words or actions. After a moment, police experience kicked in and his gun was raised. "You're under arrest!" he shouted to the white-haired man. "Lay down and spread your arms and legs immediately!"

            The man only turned to look at him, his eyes glowing a brilliant blue.

 

            "Uh-oh." It was all Priss could say. She saw Leon raise his gun and shout his order, the other surviving ADP officers following suit. The other man merely turned to look at them.

            "Mackie? Mackie! Damn, radio's out," Sylia said as the watched the spectacle unfold.

            It happened almost in an instant. The white-haired man's hands thrust out, and as one every weapon the ADPolice officers carried was snatched into the air by an unseen force. The interference worsened slightly as the submachine guns and Leon's Silverhand pistol floated in defiance of gravity. The two Knight Sabers watched, spellbound, as the weapons turned to face the ADP.

            He's going to kill them, Sylia thought with rising anxiety.

            "Leon." Priss gasped.

            Each man below tensed, some letting out shouts of horror as each weapon was cocked in turn.

            I may have to wound him, Sylia thought as her arm cannon came to bear. I have no idea who or what he is, but.

            The guns clattered to the ground as if gravity had suddenly noticed them hanging in mid-air and decided to snatch them back to earth. The unknown man stood still for a moment, the ADPolice clearly unwilling to move as well, before he rose into the air.

            "C'mon, Priss!" Sylia ordered. He was already nearing the tops of the skyscrapers as the two Knight Sabers engaged their propulsion booms to follow him, though it was rapidly becoming clear that they would not be fast enough to catch him.

            "The radios are still out!" Priss shouted as they launched themselves to the top of another building in pursuit of the man.

            "Keep moving! We have to catch him!" Sylia glanced to her left as she heard the roar of thrusters come up alongside them.

            "Good call, Mackie!" Priss cheered as their Motoslaves charged near and began to shift. As one, the two Knight Sabers moved to let the robots attach themselves to their hardsuits and propel them after the fleeing stranger.

            "Remind me to say something nice to him when we get back!"

            "I'll do that, Priss!"

 

            Erik hadn't felt so confused in a long time. He had almost killed those ADP officers, and with their own weapons! *They* weren't his enemies! Why had he.

            "Who cares?" Those words said it all, really. Who really was innocent in this war? Everyone in GENOM's evil architecture was guilty in some way. From the chairman to the lowest sales clerk, they all helped spread the corporation's destructive progeny around the globe. Weren't they all guilty?

            The ADPolice couldn't stop mad Boomers. Did that make them guilty as well?

            Erik stopped when he noticed the two flying machines coming after him.

            "More Boomers?" he said in his native tongue. "Good. I have a lot of steam to let off."

 

            Priss glared at his retreating form, bringing the autocannon to bear. If this Boomer wanted to run, she had a stop sign right.

            "Hey!" she screamed as her flight was cut short. Every system displayed every error message at once as she felt a force hold her securely in place.

            "Uh-oh," she barely heard Sylia say. The commlink between them no longer functioned, and the image went black. 

            "All systems, reboot!" The hardsuit and the Motoslave both stayed inactive, worthless lumps of metal and circuitry. Priss couldn't move, couldn't see. What was happening?

            Okay, she said to herself. I'm not falling. What's holding me up, then?

            "Verdammt Boomahs!"

 

            Damn Boomers? Sylia stared into the darkness, unable to move her arms to lift the now-defunct visor. The language was Austrian, one she was only vaguely familiar with. The unknown man was holding them aloft, she could tell. How? Was he a mutant? He couldn't be a Boomer. Sylia knew that much.

 

            Erik glared at the two Boomers held in his grip. How to deal with them? Should he just drop them to the pavement? Tear them limb from limb? Crush them into beer cans? So many ways to kill them.

            "Yameno!"

            The shout was familiar. Stop? A Boomer was begging him to stop?

            "Another ploy by GENOM," he snarled. "It will not work!"

 

 

            Sylia felt the magnetic force begin to pull on her limbs, the pain growing exponentially with each second. He thought she and Priss were Boomers? Oh, no.

            Sylia tried a desperate gambit.

            "Please! We are not Boomers! Please, stop this!" she cried in English. "We are human!"

 

            What the hell is she doing? Priss thought as she tried not to scream from the irresistible force that was trying to draw and quarter her. Why is she shouting in English?

 

            Human? Erik thought as he looked at them more closely. The outer covering was definitely robotic, but on the inside.

            He had seen them before. The hatred ebbed for a moment. Were they.?

            "Who are you?" he said in English.

 

"We are the Knight Sabers!" Sylia screamed in English as the pull on her arms and legs stopped increasing. "We are human! We are not your enemy!"

 

Erik paused for a moment. He had seen them before, several nights ago when he had targeted that rogue Boomer on the highway. He stopped pulling on their limbs, and instead lifted their visors.

"Mien Gott," he gasped as he stared at two strained female faces beneath the combat suits. They *were* the Knight Sabers! So this is what they looked like. Erik still held them in his magnetic grasp, but eased the pull on their limbs. They were human. He would not kill them.

            "You are the Knight Sabers?" Erik asked the one with the lock of dark hair dangling over her forehead. He stuck to English, seeing as how this one had used it.

            "We are," she said, anxiety clear in her beautiful eyes. "We are not your enemy. Please, release us."

            "Is it true?"

            "Nani?" asked the wild-eyed one.

            "Is what true?" the one in the off-white suit asked.

            "Do you fight GENOM?"

            "We do," she replied.

            "Then I am not your enemy," Erik said.

 

            Sylia breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Even though this man had seen their faces, he didn't know who they were and now was not going to kill them. That was all that mattered. The real meaning of the Knight Sabers was irrelevant right then.

            "What is your name?" Sylia asked in her best English.

            "I am. Magneto," he said. "And you are?"

            "I am Knight One, and this is Knight Three," she replied.

            "Fair enough." 

            "Release us, please."

            "Surely."

            Sylia heard the sound of crunching metal, and knew that the main thrusters on their Motoslaves were being demolished. She was unaccustomed to being held captive by anyone, but knew that the situation was still not in her favor. This man.. Mutant. whatever. still had the upper hand.

            "Why do you fight GENOM?"

            "Sylia."

            "Give me a moment," she replied to Priss in Japanese.

            "Do you hate them?"

            "Yes." It wasn't the whole truth, but it was enough for now. "Do you?"

            "I do. I am sorry for what I almost did to you."

            "You spared all those ADP officers as well."

            "They are incompetent, but not my enemies."

            "Nor are we."

            "But you are not my friends, either."

            Sylia felt the magnetic force evaporate, leaving her and Priss free to move again.

            "GENOM will die," Erik said in a voice like ice. "I trust you will not stand in my way."

            "We have a common enemy. Why not work with us?"

            "This is my fight," Erik replied, "and mine alone." With that, Erik vanished into the night sky.

            "Sylia," she heard Priss ask, "What the hell just happened?"

            "We may have a new enemy," Sylia replied gravely. "And I fear we may not be able to stop him."

            "Damn. All my systems are shot, too."

            "Mine as well. Looks like we're taking the long way down."

            "Sis! Can you hear me?"

            "Mackie?" Sylia asked as the light fell on them. He had sent the Knightwing for them? Sylia and Priss stepped back as the craft came low enough to extend its ramp.

            "Get on! I'll meet you at the hangar!" Mackie's voice said.

            "Sylia?"

            "Yes, Priss?"

            "Remind me to say something *very* nice to Mackie when we get back."



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