torg 05 - City of Pain Page 4

  A few of the residents gave the newcomers a once-over, but none rose to greet them.

  "Nice layout you have here," Corey observed, a little ill at ease.

  Jape shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Here, there's hot food, a spare lie-down, an on-call medder, extra bits of equipment for sale or trade, some hacking, and ..." he added, smiling at a bald girl who sauntered by him with a "come hither" look, "... a bit o' tail every now and then."

  "Surely this is no way to fight the High Lords," Berge said, disgusted.

  Jape glared at the Hospitaller. "'Ey, see here — we're opposing Malraux and Jezrael because they prevent us from doing what we want, not because we're trying to be bloody heroes."

  "My, my, how altruistic," Corey smiled dryly.

  "Sod altruism," Jape murmured. "And sod heroes, too. We're here to make sure the frocks and the technos leave us alone. The rest of Europe can go bugger itself."

  "Jape! You crazy bastard, you made it!" A young man bounded forward and grabbed Jape's fist in his own and shook it. He looked over Havoc and company and nodded.

  "I see you brought the reinforcements," he smiled as he extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Doc. How's it hanging?"

  "You"re American," Corey replied.

  Doc beamed and showed off a strip of red cloth. "Yup. From straight outta Compton. 'LA, born and razed!' Heh. Get it?"

  After introductions were made all around, Doc began gathering up his things in a small backpack. "Well, we'd best haul ass if we're gonna meet your contacts and get you guys settled into your headquarters."

  Kayla frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "Bah! All of this secrecy and skulking about like guilty children! Why could we have not just been told where our lodgings were, and taken thus?"

  It was Daremo who held up a hand to his friend and ally. "No, Kayla, I can understand their reasons for behaving in this manner," the ninja said, nodding. "Each person knows only his own particular part — that way, if captured by hostile forces, the entire plan is not compromised."

  "Spoken like a true Nippo," Doc said as he holstered his Res-14 laser pistol. "Come on, let's book."

  "Can another join, or be this a private party?" a heavy Irish brogue asked. The Storm Knights turned to see a man in a black leather overcoat with long black hair tied in a ponytail. In one hand he held a metal staff with all manner of demonic creatures carved on the head.

  "Guys, this is Padrig O'Shea, a street cybermage," Doc announced. "He was visiting Germany when the Tharkold reality hit and changed him."

  Corey gestured over to the front door. "Those runes there. Your work?"

  Padrig lowered his dark eyes modestly and smiled. "Aye, lass. Just a little spell or two to keep the premises safe, in exchange for a bit o' supper and a cot."

  "He's good at what he does, no lie," Doc piped up. "Seen him cave in a Tharkoldu's head with that staff of his. And he knows his magic."

  Corey noticed that Padrig stared at her with a mixture of amusement and — what? Attraction? The man absently stroked his chin, heavy with the stubble of a five o'clock shadow. Havoc noticed the man's look as well, and fought down his temper.

  "Well, I do not believe in magic," Daremo spoke up. " However, if you have some talents that could help us in our quest, then you are welcome to come along. Is this not so, Havoc?"

  "Yeah. Sure. Right. Come along," Havoc replied without conviction.

  "Alright, people, let's move," Doc said, heading for the

  door. "We can't keep your German hosts waiting too long."

  ❖ ❖

  Ryuchi Kanawa stood at his office window, looking out over the city of Tokyo. His city. His people. Despite recent reversals, he was still very much a player in the War. And if all went well...

  "Kanawa-sama, I beg your pardon," a voice said behind him. Kanawa didn'tbother turning around to see his newly appointed Supervisor of Miscellaneous Resources. "Report. Did she arrive in Berlin?"

  "Hai, she has."

  A sly smile crept across the High Lord's face. "Good. Leave me."

  Once he was alone, Kanawa turned and walked to his desk. Resting prominently upon it was a photo of Yuriko.

  "Little fool," he murmured. "Imagine thinking that your disguise could deceive me. You see, my dear, I learned long ago that the best way to find stormers is to let their allies find them for me. You will find the cursed Daremo and his gaijin scum. And with one blow, I will slay my enemy and make the Fourth Seal my own."

  The High Lord's laughter was soft and cold.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  First Strike

  Major Havoc and his team made their way through the Berlin night. Doc had said that the command bunker was in Schoneberg, west of Kreuzberg, and not a very long walk. Though there were few other pedestrians out this late, there was plenty of auto traffic. Apparently, some of Berlin's residents were still refusing to concede the night to the invaders. Neon and loud music spilled from clubs as they passed.

  As they crossed the Duden Strasse, Berge spotted the the huddled form of a street person slumped against a wall, wrapped in a heavy overcoat. His breathing came in ragged, rattling gasps. The beggar lifted a hand in supplication, and Marcel, touched by pity, began walking over, reaching for his wallet.

  A firm hand grabbed the Hospitaller by the shoulder. Berge spun around to see Doc, grim-faced, shaking his head.

  "Don't," he said. "Trust me."

  Reluctantly, the Hospitaller withdrew and the group continued on its way, though he could not help but to cast a questioning glance or two over his shoulder at the vagrant. Daremo could swear that he heard an alien-sound- ing mewling of disappointment from the huddled form, something which sent an involuntary shudder through the ninja.

  "Nothing is as it seems here," Doc explained. "Show mercy and you're dead."

  "Right said, mate," Jape murmured as his eyes swept over each dark alley, ever alert for danger.

  "Who ... or what was that?" Corey asked.

  "It wasn't a your standard bum, if that's what you're thinking," Doc replied. "There are many things in Berlin that defy description. And unlike LA, the nasties around here don't just swoop down on you and attack in waves. Well, at least not most of the time. Here they lie in wait for you, and even then, you might not know what killed you. Berlin's about terror."

  Kayla snorted in derision, but Corey shivered and drew the collar of her trenchcoat tighter. "Well, they're doing a good job. This place gives me the willies."

  A soft, ale-colored glow suddenly shone from Padrig's metal staff. "Ah, a wee bit o'light will drive the evil darkness back, me fair colleen!" he smiled. "A simple magic and your bonnie head need not worry a'tall!"

  "The darkness is not evil, street mage," Havoc whispered coldly. "Some of us are quite at ease in it. And Corey can take care of herself, thank you very much."

  "Corey can also speak for herself, Major," she snapped. Then she gave the Irishman a smile. "Thank you, Padrig. The light is a comfort. And don't worry about me, despite Havoc's 1930's chauvinism, he's right. But it was sweet of you to be concerned."

  Even with his features partially obscured by his mask, it was obvious Havoc was scowling. Kayla matched pace with Corey and leaned over to her.

  "Why are you doing this, Corey Jones? You are creating jealousy in Havoc."

  Corey smiled. "You just answered your own question, sweetie."

  A frown creased the barbarian swordswoman's face. "You play the silly games of children."

  Before Corey could respond, Doc pointed to a club up the street. A line of people waited outside. "That's Purgatory. Strictly Gothpunk. Turf for the Iron Blades — they're skinheads with ties to the Tharks. Keep your eyes open and your safeties off, and try and look like you belong."

  Jape looked over Havoc and his four friends. "You're joking, right, Doc? This lot?"

  Daremo walked beside Berge and saw that the Hospitaller was troubled. "What ails you, Marcel?"

  Berge looked up and down the street, and his face darkened. "With m
y enhanced hearing, I hear the shouts of the evil and the screams of their victims from behind the walls of these houses. With my enhanced eyes, I see hunger and despair in the shadows. I take all this in, and wonder, how can I possibly cure all of this? How can I stop all of this?"

  Daremo nodded. "That thought has crossed my mind on occasion," he admitted. "You ...you cannot carry the weight of the world, or of this city, on your shoulders, Marcel. We're on our way to do a great good, but each of us can only do so much. In a small way, perhaps, we are giving these people a chance for life."

  Berge nodded his agreement, but Daremo could see that his words had done little to ease the Hospitaller's soul. The cybered warrior had grown increasingly withdrawn over the past few months, and Daremo hoped he would not surrender to his demons until this crisis was over.

  The ninja's musings were cut off by the sound of screeching tires. Four '30s sedans tore around a corner and roared toward Purgatory, machine guns blazing out the windows.

  Andrea Schloss was doing her best to hold her temper. She and Gunther had agreed it was best to keep the Vanguard off public transportation and instead walk to their new headquarters. Unfortunately, that meant more time in the company of the Nile heroes, who were beginning to grate on her nerves.

  Only Lady Rahab seemed not to feel the need to keep up constant upbeat chatter, and indeed, she seemed to dislike the rest of her team as much Andrea did. It came as no surprise that Gunther, whom Andrea considered to be a bullet-headed, no-necked, blunt instrument, was enjoying the comradeship of Destructo Don, OptiMan, and the Blue Avenger.

  "What I don't understand," the Brain wheedled in Andrea's face, "is where the German authorities are. Has the government left Berlin to the Tharkoldu?"

  Andrea sighed. The Brain hadn't shut up since they'd left Hauptbahnof, and worse, it seemed as if he was attracted to her.

  "The city is still in German hands," she explained coldly. "In fact, the city police and the Bundeswehr — the army — patrol the streets in riot gear and enforce law. Unfortunately, there are large sections which even the authorities are loathe to enter."

  "Are we in one now?" the Sparrow asked hopefully.

  Gunther nodded. "Ja, Fraulein Sparrow."

  "Great!" Destructo Don replied, smacking a fist into his open palm. "I look forward to busting some Tharkoldu heads. Once they get a load of my Warheadpiece —"

  "They will laugh themselves silly before they rip it off your head and ram it down your throat," Andrea finished flatly. "When will you people understand?"

  The Blue Avenger gave her a pat on the shoulder and started to say something when four sedans sped by. Motorists honked their horns and swerved to get out of their path. One cab rode up on the sidewalk and smashed into a lamp

  post.

  "Did you see that?" the Sparrow cried.

  "Four bad drivers, yes, I did," Andrea frowned. "So?"

  "No! The passengers had guns!" OptiMan added excitedly, holding his MagnoLens up to his eye. "They were Nile gangsters!"

  "Action time, people!" Destructo Don exclaimed as he balled his fists together and shouted at the sky. "It's always darkest before the dawn ... Destructoooo Doonnnn!!!!!" In a flare of red light, the helmeted hero leaped into the air and flew after the cars.

  "Nein! Wait!" Andrea shouted. "We need some sort of an attack plan! We don't even know if they pose a threat!"

  "Where we come from, there's no need for plans," the Blue Avenger said laughing as he, too, took to the air, followed by the Sparrow and Opti-Man.

  Andrea stopped in her tracks, her face a mixture of confusion and irritation. "But —"

  "Oh, come now, Andrea!" Gunther boomed as he unshouldered his Heckler and Koch assault rifle. "Get into the spirit of things!"

  With that, he dashed after the Vanguard. Andrea turned to look at Lady Rahab, who was readying her weaponry.

  "Rahab? You too?" Andrea asked incredulously.

  The woman turned and gave a quick, embarassed shrug. "Sorry, dearie ... it's in the blood. I'm a victim of my environment."

  Andrea turned and saw that only the Brain remained behind. His smiling face was the best argument she had heard yet for going after the gangsters. Unholstering her 9mm Browning, she started walking ... until something indefinable told her she should run.

  Yuriko studied the cab driver. Though he insisted he knew the address she sought, he was either lost or taking

  her on a circuitous route to rack up the fare.

  A black automobile pulled up alongside the cab as it headed down the rain slicked Potsdamerstrasse, looking as if it meant to sideswipe. The cabdriver leaned on the horn and cursed in Turkish. The vehicle maintained pace as the front passenger window rolled down, revealing the driver's face.

  From behind him, Yuriko saw the cabbie's hair go from jet black to pure white, his hands on the wheel aging a thousand years in seconds. A moment later, he was dust. She screamed and covered her eyes to avoid the other driver's deadly gaze, then heard the black car roar off into the night.

  There was no time for fear, she realized. The cab was out of control. Steeling herself, she vaulted over the seat, dust and ash flying up in a cloud around her. She grabbed the wheel and fought to keep the car on the road as it hurtled toward an intersection.

  She slammed on her brakes as four sedans emerged from a sidestreet and cut her off. Then they were in front of her, their tail lights beacons leading her on to — where?

  It was then that she noticed that the ash was beginning to fly about the car again, and from no errant breeze. Its movements were its own.

  Havoc and his allies watched, open-mouthed, as the Tommy guns blazed away from the four autos. The crowd in front of Purgatory went down like wheat before a scythe — only this was a crimson scythe made of light.

  "Laser blasts?" Corey said in surprise. "But those cars are filled with Nile gangsters ... aren't they?"

  "I don't believe it!" Havoc cried, pulling out his twin .45 automatics. "Those are members of Bedenski's mob! And one of them's got a metal eye instead of a real one."

  "Gangsters with cyberware? Thompsons with lasers? It

  makes no sense," Daremo muttered.

  "Sure it does," Doc growled. "The worst of Nile and Tharkold, put together. Come on, let's fry these bastards."

  Kayla and Berge were already charging, swords out. At the same time, gangers were spilling out of Purgatory, wrist-guns blazing. When they saw the charging Storm Knights, they opened fire on them, too.

  "Those idiots!" Corey shouted. "Can't they see we're on their side?" She pulled her .38 and winged a female ganger.

  "You're not one of them, so you're not wanted," Doc shouted as his Res-14 blasted a hole in the second mob car. "They don't care."

  Padrig gestured and an electric blue shield of laser light sprung up, protecting him from the gunfire. Jape waded into a group of gangers, slashers flashing.

  "Don't injure any bystanders!" Havoc shouted as he somersaulted atop the first vehicle's hood and fired into the windshield. The vehicle spun wildly out of control, sending Havoc flying. Then a pair of strong arms grabbed him from above, and the shocked avenger looked up, guns trained, only to see —

  "Destructo Don!" Havoc gasped. "I might have known!"

  "Looks like you people could use a hand!" Don smiled, gesturing down toward where the Vanguard was laying into gangers and gangsters alike.

  Havoc spotted one of the sedans pulling away. "Don!

  Drop me on that car's roof!" he commanded.

  ❖ ❖

  Daremo watched as a cab spun wildly into the melee, then began to flip over. A single figure flew out of the driver's side. Daremo, trusting in the laws of this land, did a neat acrobatic flip, snatching the figure in mid-air, and landed on both feet. The ninja took a good look at his charge, and was taken aback by the sight of a beautiful Japanese woman in his arms.

  ❖ ❖

  Gunther stood amidst the chaos — the Vanguard, the Storm Knights, gangsters, cybergange
rs — and found he couldn't take it all in. Too much was happening at once. Then he saw one of the sedans peeling out and started to move — only to be stopped by the sight of two youths, no older than twelve or thirteen, about to be sliced by a ganger. In that split second, he had to make a decision: stop the gangsters or save the kids. With a snarl, he launched himself toward the cyberganger.

  And something wonderful happened.