torg 05 - City of Pain Read online

  The impact of a high-caliber bullet exploded part of a building's corner as he ran by. Jape knew he had to do something to shake his pursuers. He turned and took off down a busier street, hoping to lose himself in the crowd, or at least find a distraction for the gangers.

  His efforts were rewarded as he caught sight of two cyberpriests, engaged in animated conversation. Jape took a second to be disgusted. Ever since the Tharkoldu arrived, it seemed that every other realm had come to Berlin and staked out a private territory. The Cyberpapacy was no exception.

  Jape dashed in between the priests before they even knew he was upon them. "Bless me, Fathers, for I am about to sin," he said, grinning. Grabbing a shoulder of each, he turned them around to face Jape's pursuers, then took refuge behind them.

  The six gangers opened fire, the slugs tearing into the priests, making their bodies jerk madly. Jape broke into a wider grin and took off, convinced now that, yes, maybe cyberpriests did have their uses, after all.

  Jape's smile turned to slack-jawed disbelief as he realized he had made a wrong turn and was now in a dead end ,alley. The surrounding buildings were too high—even his augmented legs wouldn't get him to their roofs.

  Then the gangers were standing in the alley's mouth, approaching slow, guns drawn. They must want me alive, he realized.

  "Come along now, Jape," one of them, a young woman, said. "You've led us on a merry chase, but now it's at an end. And now you'll also have to answer for the deaths of those two priests back there."

  Jape looked at the woman with wide-eyed innocence. "But it was you six who shot them."

  "That's not funny, you bas —" The rest of the woman's rebuke was interrupted by her head flying off her body in a spray of blood and landing at his feet. The look of shock frozen on her face was shared by Jape.

  The gangers took a step back, looking for their attacker. Suddenly, one was swallowed up by a sphere of darkness, gone before he could scream. Another gasped and fell, a shuriken buried in his forehead.

  By the time Jape realized what was happening, it was over. A gunshot had silenced one of the remaining three gangers; the other two had disappeared into the same darkness and were just... gone.

  Jape used his RoveEye to scan for his hidden benefactors, but he needn't have bothered. Five figures stepped out of the shadows, led by a slight man clad all in black. He bowed as he approached Jape. "I am Daremo. I take it you are our contact?"

  Jape nodded, impressed but not wanting to show it. "How'd you know it was me?"

  "Those six called you Jape. This is close to the rendezvous point," Corey Jones replied. "Made sense."

  Jape's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "A little too bloody convenient that you five just happened to be here."

  "Such is the way of the Nile ," Havoc replied with a dramatic flourish of his black cloak. "It's all around us here — can't you feel it?"

  As Kayla stepped out of the shadows, Jape gave a low whistle. "I don't know about feeling the Nile, but I see something else I'd like to fe —" He cut himself off as he finally saw Berge. "Get down! Whore's spitter!" he cried, using the very unflattering nickname for Hospitallers. He hit the ground, rolled and levelled his wrist gun at the former Cyberpapist.

  Corey put herself between the two. "Hold on! He's on our side," Corey shouted.

  "Right! Pull the other one!" Jape snarled, his gun still aimed at Marcel.

  "Believe it!" Corey demanded. "And — oh, my God!"

  Everyone turned to see the source of Corey's horror. The headless body of the female ganger had risen to its knees and cyberclaws had slid into place on her hands. It enjoyed about two seconds of unlife, as a hail of gunfire from Daremo, Major Havoc and Corey cut it to pieces. Kayla, sword drawn, approached the now still corpse.

  "No! Stay back!" Jape shouted, grabbing Kayla by the waist and pulling her away.

  Kayla stared coldly at him. "Remove your hands from my waist, or I'll remove them from your arms!"

  Before Jape could react, the ganger's chest exploded, a small, metallic serpent launching itself into the air where Kayla had been standing. With a flick of his wrist, Jape .limed and fired. The bullet caught the thing in mid-air, blowing it to fragments.

  "Zounds! What manner of creature..." Berge murmured, his face pale.

  "A Trazht leech," Jape grinned humorlessly. "They're the Tharkoldu version of vermin. They crawl into corpses and reanimate them."

  Jape caught Corey's shudder out of the corner of his eye and chuckled. "Welcome to Berlin, lads and lassies. Forget everyplace you've ever been — this is one hell of a lot worse. Now let's get going."

  CHAPTER THREE

  Pawns in Play

  An AirKanawa jet made it possible for Yuriko to be standing on a U-Bahn subway platform only hours after the Knights had met their contact. Her companions on the flight had been most interesting — six men in slate grey suits, corporate ninja, surely. Kanawa wanted Daremo badly, it seemed.

  The ninja had paid her no mind, not even giving her a second glance when she opted for an S-Bahn elevated train from Schonefeld Airport rather than a corporate shuttle. She wanted to get a sense of this city, and public transport was the best way to do that.

  Sato Investments had a skyscraper in the New Alexandria area of town, close to the major Kanawa holdings in Berlin. Rather than go directly there from Schonefeld, Yuriko switched trains and took the underground for "the scenic route." But now she was beginning to question the wisdom of her actions.

  It was late at night, and the only other two people on the platform were a pair of young lovers, decked out in torn plaid shirts and jeans, imitating the American "grunge" look. The only sounds to be heard were the couple's low conversation in German and the clicking of Yuriko's heels on the concrete platform.

  At last, a rumbling noise accompanied by a gust of displaced air heralded the momentary arrival of the train. Leaning over the platform, Yuriko could see the headlight of the engine grow gradually larger. A strange sensation welled up in Yuriko — a sick feeling in her stomach, a tension that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She shook her head, at a loss to understand these feelings, then began to pace the platform like a caged creature.

  The rumbling grew louder, and suddenly Yuriko stopped in her tracks and snapped her head up, eyes wide with realization. The train was coming from the wrong direction! The station shuddered as the vehicle thundered closer, and then Yuriko's mind screamed: it's not slowing down!

  Without knowing why, Yuriko gave a cry of terror and flung herself into a corner of the station, hiding her face. The young couple glanced at her and pointed, laughing at the crazy woman's behavior.

  Yuriko sensed that the train had at last reached the platform, and she closed her eyes tightly as a blast of stale air washed over her. The entire station shook with the train's motion, and Yuriko could hear the screeching of the wheels on the rails. There were other sounds as well: the sounds of two people having their final breath torn from their lungs.

  At last, the rumbling faded and Yuriko, still prone, turned around. She caught her breath sharply as she saw that the two people on the platform were now no more than pools of melted flesh, slowly trickling down the storm drain. Yuriko retched.

  Knees weak, unable to stand, she crawled to the platform and hazarded a glance down the tracks, anxious to catch a glimpse of the train. A large spark briefly lit up the section of track, and for a split second she saw what had really come roaring through the station.

  she suppressed a shudder and glanced over at her

  hiding place something was now lurking in the shadows

  ambled the refuse glancing at her with softly glowing red eyes yuriko thought it just a rat — until she realized that it glared at her with three eyes.

  summoning her strength, Yuriko practically flew up the stairs back to the street, taking two steps at a time. Perhaps, she decided, a cab would be better ...

  Gunther Baum and Andrea Schloss sat together on a bench at the Hauptbahnof ra
il terminal, awaiting the Istanbul-Brussels train. The hour was growing late, and both knew how foolish it was to be out in Berlin after dark.

  The two barely spoke to each other. Only a few years ago they had been separated by a wall, each a citizen of a different nation. Some prejudices die hard. Andrea considered Gunther a jarheaded military goon incapable of subtlety, while Gunther saw Andrea as an ice-cold Party apparatchik whose side had lost. They worked together because they were ordered to; no one said anything about them having to like each other.

  At last, the clanging of its bell announced the train's arrival. Both people stood up, relieved that the wait — and the uncomfortable silence — were at an end. Passengers began to file out on to the station platform.

  "How are we supposed to recognize these Vanguards?" Andrea muttered as she craned her neck to look over the heads of the crowd.

  "Oh, it shouldn't be too hard," Gunther replied, never looking at her. "From what I understand, they... stand out quite a bit."

  Just then, six colorful figures spilled out of a railway car, attracting many curious stares from surrounding travellers, and Gunther nodded in their direction. "See what I mean? Come on, let's get them and leave this place."

  "They look ridiculous," Andrea declared flatly as the two began jostling their way through the crowd. "They are supposed to help fight? Berlin will eat them alive and spit out the remains."

  "Charming imagery, as always, my dear," Gunther murmured with a forced grin.

  When they finally made it to where the Vanguard stood, Gunther had to admit they did look ludicrous. Chasing the thought from his mind, he introduced himself and his partner.

  "The name's Don ... Destructo Don," said one of the newcomers, a man clad in a red metallic suit and helmet. He seized Gunther's hand and pumped it vigorously. Andrea took an instant dislike to him.

  A second man, wearing the garb of a 1930s barnstormer and a crimson half-cape, gave a sweeping bow. "Opti-Man, Master of Optics," he announced, as if that should be enough to impress.

  A statuesque platinum blonde in a tight-fitting black leather body suit cocked her wrist-mounted crossbow and looked idly at the two Germans. "Lady Rahab, Mistress of Secrets."

  She paused to load her weapon, then looked Gunther up and down approvingly. He flushed and turned his attention — albeit reluctantly — to a man clad in various shades of blue, from mask to boots.

  "Who are you?"

  The man smiled. "I am—the Blue Avenger!" he boomed, drawing dirty looks from passersby.

  "Yes, of course you are," Andrea nodded, unimpressed.

  A teenage girl in a brown and white costume, stepped forward and looked around. "Um... where's Major Havoc?"

  "Major Havoc is back at the bunker, so I believe," Gunther replied. "And you are ... ?"

  "Oh! Sorry," the girl said, startled. "I'm the Sparrow, Major Havoc's trusted Girl Wonder."

  "Only Havoc doesn't know it," Lady Rahab yawned. Sparrow shot her an angry look, but Rahab just shrugged.

  "Er ... excuse me?" a reedy, whiny voice piped up from the back of the group. Andrea and Gunther watched as a young man stumbled forward, offering a hand in greeting. Andrea was shocked to see perhaps the worst dressed individual in all of Berlin standing before her.

  He was clad in ill-fitting trousers that were a few inches too short, exposing a pair of white socks and penny loafers. The young man's white shirt was only half tucked into his pants, and sported a pocket protector loaded with pens. The stranger pushed his thick glasses, a piece of tape stuck on the bridge, back up to this eyes, and ran a hand through his greasy hair. "I'm The Brain."

  "You're ... who?" Gunther asked, trying his best not to laugh.

  "The Brain. I use my superior intellect to fight Doc Mobius," the youth explained. "I even battled the Legion of Doom in Los Angeles."

  Andrea turned to Gunther and began speaking very sternly in rapid German. The ex-GSG9 man simply held his hands up, shrugged, and pointed at the station's exit. The German pair began to walk out, with Gunther signalling for the Vanguard to follow them.

  Lady Rahab sidled up to Andrea. "You don't like us, do you?" she asked with a bemused half-smile as they walked into the rainy Berlin night.

  "Your group does not inspire confidence, fraulein," Andrea replied. "This is not the setting of some foolish pulp adventure. This is Berlin."

  "It's not as bad as it looks," Rahab said. "What my teammates lack in experience and skill they make up for in pure stubborness. They won't quit on you."

  "But do they have the power to survive here? This Brain, for example?"

  "I know what you're thinking. But that geek knows more about computers and 'weird science' and that junk than anybody this side of the hooded High Lord himself."

  "But why does he wear such a ridiculous costume?" Andrea asked, shaking her head.

  "What costume?" Lady Rahab replied, smiling.

  ❖ ❖

  In the heart of New Alexandria, the Nile's section of Berlin, a group of hard-looking characters sat around a restaurant table, arguing. These were the heads of Cairo mobs that had relocated to the city after it became half-Nile. Their nominal "boss of all bosses," "Big Boy" Bedenski, called the meeting to order.

  He'd seen a better class of mug in prison. At one end of the table sat Shiv, who had worked — or rather, knifed — his way up the ladder; next to him was Max the Mauler, the only one of the group native to Berlin; Boss Chrome, who had transformed to Tharkoldu reality shortly after arriving in the city and now sported cybernetics everywhere; and Bash, famous for his lavish, decadent parties. At various points in the room stood their lieutenants, cradling Tommy guns and keeping an eye on the street outside and each other.

  "Okay, lissen up," Bedenski demanded. "Word from Wu Han is dat we have to crack down on ownership of the assorted goodies comin' out of Berlin: prostitution, black market, protection rackets, the whole smear."

  "How're we supposed to do that?" Shiv demanded, running one nervous hand through his greased hair while the other fiddled with a switchblade. "We got the Yak on our backs," he added, referring to the Yakuza.

  Boss Chrome pointed a cybernetic finger at Bedenski. "Yeah, not to mention the skinheads and the other locals under the technos. That makes three, all after the same piece of the pie."

  "And there are new stormers in town," Bash muttered, reaching for another plate of pasta. "And one of them's Havoc."

  Bedenski winced at the name. "Shaddap about Havoc, already! He and his goons are bums. 'Sides, Wu Han's given us some ... help."

  As he said this, Bedenski pulled a curtain aside, revealing the stunning form of the Scarlet Asp and six of her colleagues. But all eyes were on her, the beautiful, deadly, long-time foe of Major Havoc.

  "I think I'm in love," Shiv whispered, slack-jawed.

  "Gentlemen, you may leave Havoc and his associates to me," she announced in a silken voice. "My allies here—Dr. Dementia, Master Math, Dr. Totten, the Pharaoh, Teen Ninja, and Madame Mage — will be more than a match for those heroes, and the Vanguard as well."

  The Asp's voice lowered, as her eyes took on a faraway look. "Oh yes, I owe Havoc. I owe him plenty. If love hurts, I want to see just how much pain he can stand." The Asp nodded, her voice taking on a dreamlike quality. "Pain shows us we're still alive."

  A strange gleam came to her eyes then, her fist clenching so tightly that her nails drew blood. The expression on her face was one of sheer pleasure.

  For the first time in his life, Shiv felt sorry for a Mystery Man.

  Jape led Havoc and his allies through the dark, twisty alleys of Kreuzberg. Even Kayla, whose sense of direction was legendary, felt lost and confused amidst this crumbling maze of buildings and alleyways. Daremo stayed in the shadows while Berge wrapped his cloak tightly about himself, trying to ignore the scenes of human misery that surrounded him.

  They came to a stop before a battered metal door with odd runes scratched into its surface.

  Kayla's eyes narrowed.
"Magic."

  Jape shrugged. "I don't pretend to understand all the crap of Tharkold street magic, but I've been told that they're wards to keep some demon from popping in uninvited."

  A series of coded knocks got them access. What was once a youth hostel for travelling students was now a haven for numerous young runaways, fugitives, and resistance members. Corey Jones looked around and saw over a dozen young men and women in their late teens and early twenties, hacking into the GodNet or the Grid, talking, drinking, or fixing electronic equipment. The music of Voivod blared loudly, competing with loud conversations in German, English and French.