[FIC] The Most Dangerous Game (part 4)
Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2004 7:44 pm
The room was in an uproar. Kaname could barely hear herself think. One group of patrons was cursing, slamming their fists on tables and walls, throwing around torn up ticket stubs. They had bet on Sousuke’s opponents. Another group was ecstatic. One woman, obviously rather drunk, danced precariously close to a table edge, oblivious to the scuff marks she left on the table top. No doubt she had taken a chance on Sousuke. The payback was rather significant.
The gray haired otakus were shaking their fingers in each other’s faces, some condemning the match for its lack of obvious bloodshed and the paucity of good old fashioned gunfire. Others shouted back, happy with the novelty and the unexpected use of an RPV, tear gas, and a catastrophic explosion. The RPGs were worth a few style points as well.
Maewe continued to be as unpredictable as usual. First, she called for Sousuke’s blood, holding him personally responsible for the fact that the coup de grace took place off camera. Next, she changed her stance, realizing just how much money she had won. That mood was short lived, changing yet again when her father and Mr. Yamada joined her. A quick check of the grounds had shown significant external damage and a single small but obvious plume of smoke. The damage was not the concern. Despite the club’s contacts in the police force and fire company, someone might seize upon the chance to investigate the occurrence. The damage control might well be unprecedented. There was a very real risk of discovery.
“We should tie the son of a bitch to a post and use him for a shooting contest,” Maewe spat. “Better yet, we could send him into the arena with that girl.” She looked at Kaname, a sickly sweet smile on her lips. “We could give each of them a gun. We’d let the survivor leave. Bygones would be bygones. If they refused we could raffle off the chance to take a gun and hunt them down. Better yet, we could hold an auction. That ought to recoup some expenses.”
Kaname was already too numb to feel much fear. She had already grown to hate Maewe to the point that she could despise her no more than she already did. As worrisome as the banter was, she felt relieved. Sousuke was still alive. The moments she had waited before the game attendants confirmed that fact had seemed like an eternity. She had thought she knew just how much Sousuke meant to her. She had underestimated herself again.
Maewe, her father, and Mr. Yamada continued to vent, but their opinions did not go unopposed. A number of other founding members had joined the fray, stating the obvious. There was no way to tell who or what had caused the explosion without talking to the survivor. Besides, it had been the club’s decision to use the fireworks factory without a thorough clean up. Sure, they could make any rules they wanted during the tournament, disqualifying any fighter at their whim. That might not sit well with the majority of club members. The last thing anyone needed were whispers of impartiality, favortism, or suspicion of a hidden agenda.
The debate gradually became one sided, as general patrons added their opinion. Sousuke had become a crowd favorite. Mr. Yamada came up with a way to satisfy both camps. The idea was embraced with rabid fervor and universal praise. Kaname, practically speechless, was the lone dissenter . Quietly, she seethed. If it looked like she was destined to die, she would take as many of these people with her as she could.
Sousuke’s next match would be spectacular. He would be sent into the arena alone, the beneficiary of a ten minute head start. Ten other fighters would be sent in afterwards. Up until the time that their prey was killed, they would be cooperating, part of a team. The man or woman who took out Sousuke would be excused from the remainder of that round. The other survivors would continue the match as usual, each man for himself. Unless by some miracle the young man reigned victorious, the round would see two winners. The crowd would get to see their new favorite in action again, in a wonderfully precarious situation. Those wishing for his death would be satisfied. So many winners.
“Of course,” Maewe added, feeling generous. “If that son of a bitch manages to survive, all will be forgiven.”
**************************************************
Tessa was furious with the things she had heard over Kaname‘s microphone. Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin remained calm---he had seen so many things in the course of his career, very little could lessen his opinion of the human species. Cmdr. Mardukas sat quietly, after asking whether or not they had used enough eggs for their ‘omelet.’
“We are in the middle of a large number of traces,” Lt. Concepcion put in. “Our success ratio has been astronomical. The longer we can continue, the more participants we can identify. We are faced with a rather large prize here. From a moralistic standpoint, we can finger a large number of otherwise unassailable men and women. Additionally, though I feel dirty even mentioning it, Mithril needs every advantage it can get theses days. There are those members of our organization who could make very good use of our findings for blackmail purposes.”
“I suppose what we need to determine is what is worth more to us as a group…Mithril as a whole…and the world in general.” Tessa’s fury had quickly changed to resignation and self-loathing. “Just what value do we place on Sgt. Sagara? How much is Miss Chidori’s life worth? Will the information we gather and the influence we gain make up for their loss?”
The debate continued for a while, each participant playing the role of Devil’s advocate.
“I would propose what I think is a reasonable compromise.” Mr. Kalinin stroked his beard, his eyes intense and his jaw set. There were times when he hated command. “Lt. Concepcion will orchestrate continued efforts at information gathering. As it stands now, we do not know precisely where Sgt. Sagara is. When he enters the ring again, we will be assured of his exact location, as long as Miss Chidori continues to serve as a successful transmission source. I propose that we wait until he is in the arena before we start our strike. Ground troops can be sent in to rescue Miss Chidori, combat any effective security forces, and contain the patrons. Sgt. Major Mao and Sgt. Weber can be sent into the arena after Sgt. Sagara.”
“I vote we accept the Lt. Cmdr’s plan” Mr. Mardukas said, no sign of emotion on his face.
“I agree, gentlemen. One thing is for certain.” Tessa was smiling again, a feral look in her eyes. “Those bastards will get a show they will never forget.”
************************************************************
Sousuke had finished applying the antibiotic cream and had sutured his own minor flesh wound. He was almost done with his bandage work.
He was very worried. True, the arrangement for the next contest was decidedly unfair, but that was not his chief concern. He had once again managed to get the lowdown on his competition by listening to the patrons talking. What had him on edge was the fact that Kaname’s microphone was no longer transmitting anything useful. All he could pick up was a muffled crowd noise.
The turn of events would have been annoying by itself. The fact that the untoward occurrence followed a brief cat fight between Kaname and Maewe could have any number of connotations. Was the pin with the microphone knocked off of or ripped from Kaname’s clothing? Had the directional features of the device somehow been knocked akilter. Could Kaname be unconscious or worse, laying on top of the pin?
It had happened so quickly. Maewe had been ragging on Kaname all evening, but she had wisely chosen to keep her mouth shut. When the industrialist’s daughter wondered aloud what it might be like to sleep with Sousuke, she had exploded in raucous laughter at the look on Kaname’s face. She went on to tease Kaname further, saying that she would raffle off Sousuke’s services to all of the interested ladies present. That number should be quite large, she claimed, referring to the effect that gladiators had on the women of Rome. Some of them had been idolized as heroes, often to the dismay of husbands and paramours. Suspirum et decus puellaum, she had said---‘the sigh and glory of all the girls.’
When Maewe asked how Kaname would feel when Sousuke chose some other woman over her, Kaname could no longer hold her tongue. ”At least it won’t be YOU. You probably have to buy your men. Or, have them kidnapped for you. Loser!”
”Now it WILL be me. Whatever it takes. You pathetic schoolgirl. What do you have to offer him, besides blue hair and a pointed chin. I’ll have one of our surgeons sew your eyelids open so you can watch. Bitch!” Maewe had been close to screeching.
There was no indication who threw the first punch. The sounds of the altercation came through clear enough, both women yelling at the other, crying out in pain, or landing loud slaps. Kaname had no chance when Maewe called out for assistance. By the sound of the urgent argument between the angry girl and a number of unknown men, Maewe must have had her gun at Kaname’s head. The older girl had broken free of restraining hands and put some hurt on Kaname. It was at that time the sounds coming in through the microphone changed.
Sousuke was worried, but there was nothing he could do for Kaname now. The only way he could serve her was to stay alive. Maewe was now at the top of his to do list, assuming he survived. He had other people to worry about first. Picking up a small pad of paper, he began to go over the notes he had scribbled down while Kaname coaxed Maewe and various patrons out of useful information.
MEMBA THISIS MDLADLANA. Mercenary. South African native. Operative for Executive Outcomes, a Private Military Company which had contracted him to a Canadian mining firm in Uganda. An ex-member of the SADF, he had killed a good many Ugandan rebels. He had gone on to do similar ‘peacekeeping’ work in a number of other African nations. He was fond of various assault rifles. Up close, he preferred combat shotguns.
ROBERT “MAD BOB” FREDRICKSON. Thrill seeker. Man’s man. A veteran of various dangerous jobs. Armored Car Guard. Smoke Jumper. Coal Miner. Alaskan King Crab Fisherman. Electrical Power Installer. He had paid large sums of money to take part in “back woods” mercenary training camps. This was to be his graduation exercise.
PAEK YONG-KWAN. Started as a gang member in Taiwan, attached to the United Bamboo group. A successful drug runner, he contracted out to North Korea and went on to work for them in the Portugese enclave of Macau. Rumored to have planted a bomb that downed a South Korean Airliner. Thought to be involved in the selling of missile technology to Pakistan and Iran. Fond of submachine guns and explosives.
REEDY SMITH. Wanted cyber-criminal, responsible for wire fraud, illegal possession of sensitive files, repeated scrambling of telephone grids and defense networks. Caught by the cyber-sleuth Tsutoma Haraguchi, a member of this very ‘hunt club.’ Chose to fight in order to win his freedom.
MAJEED AL-MUGHASSI. Ambulance driver in Palestine. One time bodyguard for members of the Saudi Royal family. Falsely convicted as a member of Abu Nidal group. Escaped from prison, signing on to do freelance mercenary work wherever money was available. No jobs were unacceptable.
DMITRIOS ANDROSOUPOULUS. Mass murderer. One of the top men on International Wanted lists. Reputed to have killed over one hundred women in Greece and Cyprus.
JEAN-PIERRE DELADIER. Caporal-chief in the French Foreign Legion, stationed with the 3e Demi-Brigade de La Legion Etragere in Djibouti. Deserter. Had been brought up on charges of cruelty and suspected killing of vanquished enemies. Served as a guard, officially, in Luxembourg, Comoros island, Kinshasa, and Quebec. Left a long list of concurrent criminal offences. Last employed as a fitness instructor for Club Med in Morroco. Favored the FAMAS assault rifle.
KAREL VAN DEN BROECK. Daughter of mercenary parents. Started off as a school teacher. Worked as a prostitute in the Zeedijk area of Amsterdam until she was brutally assaulted. Took justice into her own hands and fled the country. Took up the family business. Specialized in taking out wealthy male corporate owners for rival business men. Very good at making deaths look like ‘natural causes.’ Expert sniper. Good with explosives. Adept at poisons.
GIANFRANCO MORO. One time UN Peacekeeper. Grew tired of being a highly trained soldier pretending to be Ghandi. Dissatisfied with blue berets and white trucks, he went on to work Defense Systems Limited out of London, providing security services to international miners, industrialists, and oil businessmen. Rumored to have been involved in the kidnapping of one wealthy man he had contracted on to protect. Black Market Arms runner and occasional soldier for hire.
MATAYOSHI RYOJI. Wanted for questioning in connection with Tokyo Sarin attacks. Implicated in the shooting deaths of two police officers and the murder of a notary republic.
He could not afford to take this group for granted. True, none of them would likely have lasted more than a minute against Gauron. But, given the limitations of this competition, and the large number of opponents he would be facing, any one mistake might prove his last. Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin had sent him a message, detailing their change in plans. But, that had been before Kaname’s microphone signal changed. They must have heard the same things he did. How would they interpret the situation? Would this change their plans? When would they strike?
There was no telling how long he had before the door opened again. It was time to finish his preparations. The bag would be heavy and unwieldy, but he was taking everything with him on this trip into the arena. Fortunately, the last fight had used up little ammunition. He had a sinking feeling that every shot might count this time.
There was nothing to do now but wait.
************************************************************
The M9 was rocking. No doubt about it. Kurz had seen the explosion rock the old fireworks factory. He saw the sooty plume of smoke snake its way skyward. Inspiration hit. This would help pump him up.
Turn your radios on, I’ll be right there, yes I will
Turn me up real loud, I’m in your ears, ah
‘n’ I’m hangin’ ten now baby, as I ride your sonic, ooh wave
(good God y’all)
I’m on fire
I’m on fire
I’m on fire
I’m on fire
Vintage Van Halen blared forth from the speakers. Kurz had his air amp cranked up to ’11.’ Today’s music just didn’t shred like this! Oh yeh!
Naturally, Melissa chose just that moment to patch into his communications system. He ignored her call signal. There was a killer guitar break to groove to. There was some singing to do.
“Oh yeah, one time. Fire…fire…fire.”
“Damn it Weber, turn that shit off!!!.” When Melissa had that tone of voice, it was best not to push her too far. Kurz hit the pause button.
“C’mon, Sis. Have a heart. Some times a man just has to rock! Besides, that song was in honor of Sousuke. I’ll…wager…that little explosion was caused by our favorite sergeant.” Kurz chuckled. It was always good to see Sousuke’s proclivity for destruction turned on the bad guys.
“Kurz! This is no time to be joking about gambling. Not when Sousuke’s life is in the hands of those cold-hearted motherf@ckers! There’s no time for foolishness, now. We’ll be going in soon. Do I make myself clear?!” Melissa must really be worried. Her voice had a slight wavering character to it.
“You bet your ass, babe!” Kurz smiled. Chew on THAT one, Sis..
The noise that came through on Melissa’s line was indecipherable at first. “Weber. My foot. Your ass. Hard. Soon as possible. Count. On. It.” Those last words all came through clear enough. Kurz smiled even wider. Even though Sousuke wasn’t hear, it was still like old times as long as he could get Melissa riled up. Of course, she would never thank him. But, she did better too, when she had the juices flowing.
Kurz Weber. Martyr and philanthropist. No one ever knew the sacrifices he made.
“Listen up, pain magnet. I have the latest from the Da Danaan. When Sousuke gets into the main arena in the back warehouse, we move in. Our job is to get him out. First and foremost. After that, we can chew up anyone else we see in that arena. We will also coordinate with ground spotters, ripping apart any trouble too big for them to handle.” Kurz crossed his fingers, hearing that. He was in the mood for some action tonight. “Fire a test capsule into the ground a few yards in front of your Arm Slave. Make certain your detectors can pick it up. We might not be able to locate Sousuke quickly enough by visuals.”
“You got it, Sgt. Major. Kurz Weber, your obedient slave, hurries to obey!” Turning a calibration knob, Kurz primed his gamma detector. He turned on the HUD and toggled a small green set of crosshairs. A powerful burst of compressed air fired a small tracer capsule into the soil in front of his M9. Pushing a series of buttons, he brought a eerie green grid up. A small red dot pulsed on and off. “Check on the visual, Sis.” He pushed another button. A sound came on his speakers, a monotonous series of beeps. Manipulating the controls of the Arm Slave, he moved the machine back a few paces. The beeping became less frequent. He took a few strides beyond his original position. The beeping was louder and more frequent. “Ditto on the audio, babe.”
“Good. We might make a soldier out of you yet.” Melissa laughed. Kurz waited for the other shoe to fall. What? Nothing more. That couldn’t have been a compliment, could it? “Shit! Who am I foolin’?” OK. There was balance again in the universe.
“Well, babe. I’m always available when you want to make a soldier. Oh yeh!” What would her reply be? Cursing? Moderate likelihood. ”In your dreams?” Possible, but unlikely. She knew his answers to THAT one. Another promise of pain? Yes. That was his bet.
“Shit. Either you bumped your head or you’re dreaming. If you’re lucky, you just might make it back to the sub in one piece after I’m done with you!”
Kurz chuckled. A triple-header. Melissa was in fighting form for sure. Time to get back to groovin.’ He pushed the play button.
Lay your bodies down, I’m in your beds, your beds
Put your headphones on, I’m in your heads, ah
‘n’ I’m hangin’ ten now baby, as I ride your sonic, ooh wave….
“Good God, y’all. C’mon Sis, sing along! I’m on fire……I’m on fire……I’m on fire”
I’m on fire
I’m on fire
I’m on fire
<fade>
Kurz smiled at Melissa’s parting curses. It was time to get ultra-serious, now. No time for screwing around.
He needed to pick out the next tune.
***********************************************************
“You are SO dead!!!” Maewe slapped Kaname without any fear of future repercussions. The other girl’s arms were held tightly by two cronies, so there would be no chance of furture injury. There was blood at one corner of Miss Segawa’s mouth, courtesy of a fierce swing of Kaname’s purse. One of her teeth felt loose. A very expensive diamond earring was missing.
“What? Are you planning on killing me twice now?” Kaname was too enraged to feel frightened. No one except for Sousuke had gotten her anywhere near this angry. “I’m not surprise that some puffed up little princess needs two bootlickers to hold my arms. Does your Daddy know just how big a loser you really are? I heard he was a mercenary. He probably had to earn whatever he’s gotten.” She smiled a large smile, her swollen lips oozing small drops of blood. It would have been less explosive to pour kerosene on a fire.
Maewe took her slender-bladed knife out of her purse. There was a wall of her people around them---nobody would see what happened. She thought about carving Kaname up first, getting a visceral thrill from splitting Kaname’s nostrils or puncturing the globes of her eyes. No. She was too impatient. A quick stab in the heart would suffice. Her friends could carry Kaname out after that, telling anyone who cared that she had fainted from all of the excitement.
“Maewe darling, it seems that you grow more lovely every day.” Kaname had never heard that voice before. “More lovely, and more impatient. If you are going to be a sociopath, you will get so much more satisfaction from savoring the opportunities that life presents you with.” The speaker was a muscular young man in his early 20s, impeccably dressed in expensive European clothing. He too walked with an entourage of yesmen and hangers-on.
Kaname wouldn’t have thought that Maewe’s face could have looked any more contorted than it already was. The knife in her hand, Maewe whirled to face the speaker, nearly spitting with each word she spoke. “Reginald. I didn’t know there were big enough rocks around here for you to live under. Why the hell did you decide to slither out into the sunlight now?” Obviously the two knew each other.
“You know me, Maewe. I’m a well-established a connoisseur of beautiful things and a true champion of justice.” Sarcasm practically dripped from his tongue. “This lovely young lady’s fine fellow may yet win our charming little game. It would be a travesty to take away the very prize he has been promised. Had you been more sophisticated or subtle, you might have enjoyed her discomfort and pain during the next deadly match. Instead, you have lost the prize all together.” Reginald turned to Kaname. “Where are my manners? The terrible treatment of such a lovely young lady has gotten me all turned around. I should introduce myself. My name is Reginald Smithers, of the Manchester Smithers. How would you like to be my guest ?”
“You w-wouldn’t dare!!!” Maewe stuttered, her anger tripping her tongue.
“W-w-w-wouldn’t I?” Reginald mocked her. “Do we have to go back to that same old lesson, my sweet?” He turned to Kaname, speaking as if Maewe wasn’t there. “You see, dear Maewe has a rather unfortunate self esteem issue. Unfortunate for her, but quite amusing to the rest of us. It’s true, she often gets her way, because of who her Daddy is. But, as it turns out, Ace beats King. My father is the one man who has nothing to fear from Mr. Segawa. Or, to be honest, he has less to fear than anyone else. I know, let’s you and I go talk to her Daddy. That should be worth a titter or who.”
“You stupid son of a whore!” Maewe had to be restrained by some of her toadies, all of whom were looking a bit uncomfortable. “One day! One day I will get you. When I end up owning you, I will sell you to a Turkish brothel. After I cut off everything remotely male.”
“So very melodramatic. I truly hate it when you feel helpless. You know I do, don’t you?” Reginald laughed and looked over at his followers, who all burst into laughter as well. “Dear Kaname? It is Kaname, isn’t it? I don’t want you to miss out on the sweet and savory details of Maewe’s and my relationship. Can you guess what it might be?”
“You took her back to the pet shop because she couldn’t be paper trained? She’s resented you ever since?” Kaname made it a point to lift up her chin and stare at Maewe. Reginald applauded and quickly replied, interrupting whatever Maewe had wanted to say.
“Marvelous. Oh how very marvelous.” Reginald laughed, bowing to Kaname. “That’s all true. But, let’s keep it our little secret. That’s not what I was talking about. Care to offer another guess?” He looked out into the arena. Sousuke’s form could be seen running, doing a quick check of the battleground. “You’ll want to hurry. It looks as if the fight will start fairly soon.”
“Blackmail?” Kaname asked, her voice cracking ever so slightly. Sousuke!
“Brains as well as beauty. See, Maewe? It is possible!” He waved his hand, as if brushing away an irksome insect pest. His followers all whistled or hooted in derision. “Yes, my dearest father has secreted away highly damning information about Maewe’s Daddy. If anything happened to my father, the information would be released. If anything happened to me, my father would likely do the same out of grief and anger. Naturally, I simply detest such dirty methods. But what can I do?”
“One of these days, you son of a bitch. I…” Maewe sputtered to a halt after Reginald threw a glass of wine into her face.
“Oh, how clumsy of me. Did you get that on film, Celia?” In response, a dark haired girl held up a digital recorder. “Guess we’ll have to add that to our collection. It’s almost ready for internet sales. But enough about that. Have you given my offer any thought, Kaname? Would you care to join me, or would you prefer to stay with Miss Segawa?” The look in Maewe’s eyes made it quite certain who she would take all of her anger and embarrassment out on.
“I suppose I must choose the better company.” Kaname said, bowing to Reginald.
“Splendid. How simply splendid. Let us retire to our room. The large screen TVs provide a wonderful view of all corners of the arena. After just chiding Maewe, I’m quite ashamed to find myself impatient---but there is something I must ask you now. Do you dance well?" He smiled, an evil gleam in his eyes. "Naked?” Reginald’s look needed no explanation.
Kaname had no answer as she was led away. Given all of the events, she didn’t realize that she was missing a very important piece of jewelry.
The pin with the microphone sat face down under a table.
************************************************************
End of pt 4.
The gray haired otakus were shaking their fingers in each other’s faces, some condemning the match for its lack of obvious bloodshed and the paucity of good old fashioned gunfire. Others shouted back, happy with the novelty and the unexpected use of an RPV, tear gas, and a catastrophic explosion. The RPGs were worth a few style points as well.
Maewe continued to be as unpredictable as usual. First, she called for Sousuke’s blood, holding him personally responsible for the fact that the coup de grace took place off camera. Next, she changed her stance, realizing just how much money she had won. That mood was short lived, changing yet again when her father and Mr. Yamada joined her. A quick check of the grounds had shown significant external damage and a single small but obvious plume of smoke. The damage was not the concern. Despite the club’s contacts in the police force and fire company, someone might seize upon the chance to investigate the occurrence. The damage control might well be unprecedented. There was a very real risk of discovery.
“We should tie the son of a bitch to a post and use him for a shooting contest,” Maewe spat. “Better yet, we could send him into the arena with that girl.” She looked at Kaname, a sickly sweet smile on her lips. “We could give each of them a gun. We’d let the survivor leave. Bygones would be bygones. If they refused we could raffle off the chance to take a gun and hunt them down. Better yet, we could hold an auction. That ought to recoup some expenses.”
Kaname was already too numb to feel much fear. She had already grown to hate Maewe to the point that she could despise her no more than she already did. As worrisome as the banter was, she felt relieved. Sousuke was still alive. The moments she had waited before the game attendants confirmed that fact had seemed like an eternity. She had thought she knew just how much Sousuke meant to her. She had underestimated herself again.
Maewe, her father, and Mr. Yamada continued to vent, but their opinions did not go unopposed. A number of other founding members had joined the fray, stating the obvious. There was no way to tell who or what had caused the explosion without talking to the survivor. Besides, it had been the club’s decision to use the fireworks factory without a thorough clean up. Sure, they could make any rules they wanted during the tournament, disqualifying any fighter at their whim. That might not sit well with the majority of club members. The last thing anyone needed were whispers of impartiality, favortism, or suspicion of a hidden agenda.
The debate gradually became one sided, as general patrons added their opinion. Sousuke had become a crowd favorite. Mr. Yamada came up with a way to satisfy both camps. The idea was embraced with rabid fervor and universal praise. Kaname, practically speechless, was the lone dissenter . Quietly, she seethed. If it looked like she was destined to die, she would take as many of these people with her as she could.
Sousuke’s next match would be spectacular. He would be sent into the arena alone, the beneficiary of a ten minute head start. Ten other fighters would be sent in afterwards. Up until the time that their prey was killed, they would be cooperating, part of a team. The man or woman who took out Sousuke would be excused from the remainder of that round. The other survivors would continue the match as usual, each man for himself. Unless by some miracle the young man reigned victorious, the round would see two winners. The crowd would get to see their new favorite in action again, in a wonderfully precarious situation. Those wishing for his death would be satisfied. So many winners.
“Of course,” Maewe added, feeling generous. “If that son of a bitch manages to survive, all will be forgiven.”
**************************************************
Tessa was furious with the things she had heard over Kaname‘s microphone. Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin remained calm---he had seen so many things in the course of his career, very little could lessen his opinion of the human species. Cmdr. Mardukas sat quietly, after asking whether or not they had used enough eggs for their ‘omelet.’
“We are in the middle of a large number of traces,” Lt. Concepcion put in. “Our success ratio has been astronomical. The longer we can continue, the more participants we can identify. We are faced with a rather large prize here. From a moralistic standpoint, we can finger a large number of otherwise unassailable men and women. Additionally, though I feel dirty even mentioning it, Mithril needs every advantage it can get theses days. There are those members of our organization who could make very good use of our findings for blackmail purposes.”
“I suppose what we need to determine is what is worth more to us as a group…Mithril as a whole…and the world in general.” Tessa’s fury had quickly changed to resignation and self-loathing. “Just what value do we place on Sgt. Sagara? How much is Miss Chidori’s life worth? Will the information we gather and the influence we gain make up for their loss?”
The debate continued for a while, each participant playing the role of Devil’s advocate.
“I would propose what I think is a reasonable compromise.” Mr. Kalinin stroked his beard, his eyes intense and his jaw set. There were times when he hated command. “Lt. Concepcion will orchestrate continued efforts at information gathering. As it stands now, we do not know precisely where Sgt. Sagara is. When he enters the ring again, we will be assured of his exact location, as long as Miss Chidori continues to serve as a successful transmission source. I propose that we wait until he is in the arena before we start our strike. Ground troops can be sent in to rescue Miss Chidori, combat any effective security forces, and contain the patrons. Sgt. Major Mao and Sgt. Weber can be sent into the arena after Sgt. Sagara.”
“I vote we accept the Lt. Cmdr’s plan” Mr. Mardukas said, no sign of emotion on his face.
“I agree, gentlemen. One thing is for certain.” Tessa was smiling again, a feral look in her eyes. “Those bastards will get a show they will never forget.”
************************************************************
Sousuke had finished applying the antibiotic cream and had sutured his own minor flesh wound. He was almost done with his bandage work.
He was very worried. True, the arrangement for the next contest was decidedly unfair, but that was not his chief concern. He had once again managed to get the lowdown on his competition by listening to the patrons talking. What had him on edge was the fact that Kaname’s microphone was no longer transmitting anything useful. All he could pick up was a muffled crowd noise.
The turn of events would have been annoying by itself. The fact that the untoward occurrence followed a brief cat fight between Kaname and Maewe could have any number of connotations. Was the pin with the microphone knocked off of or ripped from Kaname’s clothing? Had the directional features of the device somehow been knocked akilter. Could Kaname be unconscious or worse, laying on top of the pin?
It had happened so quickly. Maewe had been ragging on Kaname all evening, but she had wisely chosen to keep her mouth shut. When the industrialist’s daughter wondered aloud what it might be like to sleep with Sousuke, she had exploded in raucous laughter at the look on Kaname’s face. She went on to tease Kaname further, saying that she would raffle off Sousuke’s services to all of the interested ladies present. That number should be quite large, she claimed, referring to the effect that gladiators had on the women of Rome. Some of them had been idolized as heroes, often to the dismay of husbands and paramours. Suspirum et decus puellaum, she had said---‘the sigh and glory of all the girls.’
When Maewe asked how Kaname would feel when Sousuke chose some other woman over her, Kaname could no longer hold her tongue. ”At least it won’t be YOU. You probably have to buy your men. Or, have them kidnapped for you. Loser!”
”Now it WILL be me. Whatever it takes. You pathetic schoolgirl. What do you have to offer him, besides blue hair and a pointed chin. I’ll have one of our surgeons sew your eyelids open so you can watch. Bitch!” Maewe had been close to screeching.
There was no indication who threw the first punch. The sounds of the altercation came through clear enough, both women yelling at the other, crying out in pain, or landing loud slaps. Kaname had no chance when Maewe called out for assistance. By the sound of the urgent argument between the angry girl and a number of unknown men, Maewe must have had her gun at Kaname’s head. The older girl had broken free of restraining hands and put some hurt on Kaname. It was at that time the sounds coming in through the microphone changed.
Sousuke was worried, but there was nothing he could do for Kaname now. The only way he could serve her was to stay alive. Maewe was now at the top of his to do list, assuming he survived. He had other people to worry about first. Picking up a small pad of paper, he began to go over the notes he had scribbled down while Kaname coaxed Maewe and various patrons out of useful information.
MEMBA THISIS MDLADLANA. Mercenary. South African native. Operative for Executive Outcomes, a Private Military Company which had contracted him to a Canadian mining firm in Uganda. An ex-member of the SADF, he had killed a good many Ugandan rebels. He had gone on to do similar ‘peacekeeping’ work in a number of other African nations. He was fond of various assault rifles. Up close, he preferred combat shotguns.
ROBERT “MAD BOB” FREDRICKSON. Thrill seeker. Man’s man. A veteran of various dangerous jobs. Armored Car Guard. Smoke Jumper. Coal Miner. Alaskan King Crab Fisherman. Electrical Power Installer. He had paid large sums of money to take part in “back woods” mercenary training camps. This was to be his graduation exercise.
PAEK YONG-KWAN. Started as a gang member in Taiwan, attached to the United Bamboo group. A successful drug runner, he contracted out to North Korea and went on to work for them in the Portugese enclave of Macau. Rumored to have planted a bomb that downed a South Korean Airliner. Thought to be involved in the selling of missile technology to Pakistan and Iran. Fond of submachine guns and explosives.
REEDY SMITH. Wanted cyber-criminal, responsible for wire fraud, illegal possession of sensitive files, repeated scrambling of telephone grids and defense networks. Caught by the cyber-sleuth Tsutoma Haraguchi, a member of this very ‘hunt club.’ Chose to fight in order to win his freedom.
MAJEED AL-MUGHASSI. Ambulance driver in Palestine. One time bodyguard for members of the Saudi Royal family. Falsely convicted as a member of Abu Nidal group. Escaped from prison, signing on to do freelance mercenary work wherever money was available. No jobs were unacceptable.
DMITRIOS ANDROSOUPOULUS. Mass murderer. One of the top men on International Wanted lists. Reputed to have killed over one hundred women in Greece and Cyprus.
JEAN-PIERRE DELADIER. Caporal-chief in the French Foreign Legion, stationed with the 3e Demi-Brigade de La Legion Etragere in Djibouti. Deserter. Had been brought up on charges of cruelty and suspected killing of vanquished enemies. Served as a guard, officially, in Luxembourg, Comoros island, Kinshasa, and Quebec. Left a long list of concurrent criminal offences. Last employed as a fitness instructor for Club Med in Morroco. Favored the FAMAS assault rifle.
KAREL VAN DEN BROECK. Daughter of mercenary parents. Started off as a school teacher. Worked as a prostitute in the Zeedijk area of Amsterdam until she was brutally assaulted. Took justice into her own hands and fled the country. Took up the family business. Specialized in taking out wealthy male corporate owners for rival business men. Very good at making deaths look like ‘natural causes.’ Expert sniper. Good with explosives. Adept at poisons.
GIANFRANCO MORO. One time UN Peacekeeper. Grew tired of being a highly trained soldier pretending to be Ghandi. Dissatisfied with blue berets and white trucks, he went on to work Defense Systems Limited out of London, providing security services to international miners, industrialists, and oil businessmen. Rumored to have been involved in the kidnapping of one wealthy man he had contracted on to protect. Black Market Arms runner and occasional soldier for hire.
MATAYOSHI RYOJI. Wanted for questioning in connection with Tokyo Sarin attacks. Implicated in the shooting deaths of two police officers and the murder of a notary republic.
He could not afford to take this group for granted. True, none of them would likely have lasted more than a minute against Gauron. But, given the limitations of this competition, and the large number of opponents he would be facing, any one mistake might prove his last. Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin had sent him a message, detailing their change in plans. But, that had been before Kaname’s microphone signal changed. They must have heard the same things he did. How would they interpret the situation? Would this change their plans? When would they strike?
There was no telling how long he had before the door opened again. It was time to finish his preparations. The bag would be heavy and unwieldy, but he was taking everything with him on this trip into the arena. Fortunately, the last fight had used up little ammunition. He had a sinking feeling that every shot might count this time.
There was nothing to do now but wait.
************************************************************
The M9 was rocking. No doubt about it. Kurz had seen the explosion rock the old fireworks factory. He saw the sooty plume of smoke snake its way skyward. Inspiration hit. This would help pump him up.
Turn your radios on, I’ll be right there, yes I will
Turn me up real loud, I’m in your ears, ah
‘n’ I’m hangin’ ten now baby, as I ride your sonic, ooh wave
(good God y’all)
I’m on fire
I’m on fire
I’m on fire
I’m on fire
Vintage Van Halen blared forth from the speakers. Kurz had his air amp cranked up to ’11.’ Today’s music just didn’t shred like this! Oh yeh!
Naturally, Melissa chose just that moment to patch into his communications system. He ignored her call signal. There was a killer guitar break to groove to. There was some singing to do.
“Oh yeah, one time. Fire…fire…fire.”
“Damn it Weber, turn that shit off!!!.” When Melissa had that tone of voice, it was best not to push her too far. Kurz hit the pause button.
“C’mon, Sis. Have a heart. Some times a man just has to rock! Besides, that song was in honor of Sousuke. I’ll…wager…that little explosion was caused by our favorite sergeant.” Kurz chuckled. It was always good to see Sousuke’s proclivity for destruction turned on the bad guys.
“Kurz! This is no time to be joking about gambling. Not when Sousuke’s life is in the hands of those cold-hearted motherf@ckers! There’s no time for foolishness, now. We’ll be going in soon. Do I make myself clear?!” Melissa must really be worried. Her voice had a slight wavering character to it.
“You bet your ass, babe!” Kurz smiled. Chew on THAT one, Sis..
The noise that came through on Melissa’s line was indecipherable at first. “Weber. My foot. Your ass. Hard. Soon as possible. Count. On. It.” Those last words all came through clear enough. Kurz smiled even wider. Even though Sousuke wasn’t hear, it was still like old times as long as he could get Melissa riled up. Of course, she would never thank him. But, she did better too, when she had the juices flowing.
Kurz Weber. Martyr and philanthropist. No one ever knew the sacrifices he made.
“Listen up, pain magnet. I have the latest from the Da Danaan. When Sousuke gets into the main arena in the back warehouse, we move in. Our job is to get him out. First and foremost. After that, we can chew up anyone else we see in that arena. We will also coordinate with ground spotters, ripping apart any trouble too big for them to handle.” Kurz crossed his fingers, hearing that. He was in the mood for some action tonight. “Fire a test capsule into the ground a few yards in front of your Arm Slave. Make certain your detectors can pick it up. We might not be able to locate Sousuke quickly enough by visuals.”
“You got it, Sgt. Major. Kurz Weber, your obedient slave, hurries to obey!” Turning a calibration knob, Kurz primed his gamma detector. He turned on the HUD and toggled a small green set of crosshairs. A powerful burst of compressed air fired a small tracer capsule into the soil in front of his M9. Pushing a series of buttons, he brought a eerie green grid up. A small red dot pulsed on and off. “Check on the visual, Sis.” He pushed another button. A sound came on his speakers, a monotonous series of beeps. Manipulating the controls of the Arm Slave, he moved the machine back a few paces. The beeping became less frequent. He took a few strides beyond his original position. The beeping was louder and more frequent. “Ditto on the audio, babe.”
“Good. We might make a soldier out of you yet.” Melissa laughed. Kurz waited for the other shoe to fall. What? Nothing more. That couldn’t have been a compliment, could it? “Shit! Who am I foolin’?” OK. There was balance again in the universe.
“Well, babe. I’m always available when you want to make a soldier. Oh yeh!” What would her reply be? Cursing? Moderate likelihood. ”In your dreams?” Possible, but unlikely. She knew his answers to THAT one. Another promise of pain? Yes. That was his bet.
“Shit. Either you bumped your head or you’re dreaming. If you’re lucky, you just might make it back to the sub in one piece after I’m done with you!”
Kurz chuckled. A triple-header. Melissa was in fighting form for sure. Time to get back to groovin.’ He pushed the play button.
Lay your bodies down, I’m in your beds, your beds
Put your headphones on, I’m in your heads, ah
‘n’ I’m hangin’ ten now baby, as I ride your sonic, ooh wave….
“Good God, y’all. C’mon Sis, sing along! I’m on fire……I’m on fire……I’m on fire”
I’m on fire
I’m on fire
I’m on fire
<fade>
Kurz smiled at Melissa’s parting curses. It was time to get ultra-serious, now. No time for screwing around.
He needed to pick out the next tune.
***********************************************************
“You are SO dead!!!” Maewe slapped Kaname without any fear of future repercussions. The other girl’s arms were held tightly by two cronies, so there would be no chance of furture injury. There was blood at one corner of Miss Segawa’s mouth, courtesy of a fierce swing of Kaname’s purse. One of her teeth felt loose. A very expensive diamond earring was missing.
“What? Are you planning on killing me twice now?” Kaname was too enraged to feel frightened. No one except for Sousuke had gotten her anywhere near this angry. “I’m not surprise that some puffed up little princess needs two bootlickers to hold my arms. Does your Daddy know just how big a loser you really are? I heard he was a mercenary. He probably had to earn whatever he’s gotten.” She smiled a large smile, her swollen lips oozing small drops of blood. It would have been less explosive to pour kerosene on a fire.
Maewe took her slender-bladed knife out of her purse. There was a wall of her people around them---nobody would see what happened. She thought about carving Kaname up first, getting a visceral thrill from splitting Kaname’s nostrils or puncturing the globes of her eyes. No. She was too impatient. A quick stab in the heart would suffice. Her friends could carry Kaname out after that, telling anyone who cared that she had fainted from all of the excitement.
“Maewe darling, it seems that you grow more lovely every day.” Kaname had never heard that voice before. “More lovely, and more impatient. If you are going to be a sociopath, you will get so much more satisfaction from savoring the opportunities that life presents you with.” The speaker was a muscular young man in his early 20s, impeccably dressed in expensive European clothing. He too walked with an entourage of yesmen and hangers-on.
Kaname wouldn’t have thought that Maewe’s face could have looked any more contorted than it already was. The knife in her hand, Maewe whirled to face the speaker, nearly spitting with each word she spoke. “Reginald. I didn’t know there were big enough rocks around here for you to live under. Why the hell did you decide to slither out into the sunlight now?” Obviously the two knew each other.
“You know me, Maewe. I’m a well-established a connoisseur of beautiful things and a true champion of justice.” Sarcasm practically dripped from his tongue. “This lovely young lady’s fine fellow may yet win our charming little game. It would be a travesty to take away the very prize he has been promised. Had you been more sophisticated or subtle, you might have enjoyed her discomfort and pain during the next deadly match. Instead, you have lost the prize all together.” Reginald turned to Kaname. “Where are my manners? The terrible treatment of such a lovely young lady has gotten me all turned around. I should introduce myself. My name is Reginald Smithers, of the Manchester Smithers. How would you like to be my guest ?”
“You w-wouldn’t dare!!!” Maewe stuttered, her anger tripping her tongue.
“W-w-w-wouldn’t I?” Reginald mocked her. “Do we have to go back to that same old lesson, my sweet?” He turned to Kaname, speaking as if Maewe wasn’t there. “You see, dear Maewe has a rather unfortunate self esteem issue. Unfortunate for her, but quite amusing to the rest of us. It’s true, she often gets her way, because of who her Daddy is. But, as it turns out, Ace beats King. My father is the one man who has nothing to fear from Mr. Segawa. Or, to be honest, he has less to fear than anyone else. I know, let’s you and I go talk to her Daddy. That should be worth a titter or who.”
“You stupid son of a whore!” Maewe had to be restrained by some of her toadies, all of whom were looking a bit uncomfortable. “One day! One day I will get you. When I end up owning you, I will sell you to a Turkish brothel. After I cut off everything remotely male.”
“So very melodramatic. I truly hate it when you feel helpless. You know I do, don’t you?” Reginald laughed and looked over at his followers, who all burst into laughter as well. “Dear Kaname? It is Kaname, isn’t it? I don’t want you to miss out on the sweet and savory details of Maewe’s and my relationship. Can you guess what it might be?”
“You took her back to the pet shop because she couldn’t be paper trained? She’s resented you ever since?” Kaname made it a point to lift up her chin and stare at Maewe. Reginald applauded and quickly replied, interrupting whatever Maewe had wanted to say.
“Marvelous. Oh how very marvelous.” Reginald laughed, bowing to Kaname. “That’s all true. But, let’s keep it our little secret. That’s not what I was talking about. Care to offer another guess?” He looked out into the arena. Sousuke’s form could be seen running, doing a quick check of the battleground. “You’ll want to hurry. It looks as if the fight will start fairly soon.”
“Blackmail?” Kaname asked, her voice cracking ever so slightly. Sousuke!
“Brains as well as beauty. See, Maewe? It is possible!” He waved his hand, as if brushing away an irksome insect pest. His followers all whistled or hooted in derision. “Yes, my dearest father has secreted away highly damning information about Maewe’s Daddy. If anything happened to my father, the information would be released. If anything happened to me, my father would likely do the same out of grief and anger. Naturally, I simply detest such dirty methods. But what can I do?”
“One of these days, you son of a bitch. I…” Maewe sputtered to a halt after Reginald threw a glass of wine into her face.
“Oh, how clumsy of me. Did you get that on film, Celia?” In response, a dark haired girl held up a digital recorder. “Guess we’ll have to add that to our collection. It’s almost ready for internet sales. But enough about that. Have you given my offer any thought, Kaname? Would you care to join me, or would you prefer to stay with Miss Segawa?” The look in Maewe’s eyes made it quite certain who she would take all of her anger and embarrassment out on.
“I suppose I must choose the better company.” Kaname said, bowing to Reginald.
“Splendid. How simply splendid. Let us retire to our room. The large screen TVs provide a wonderful view of all corners of the arena. After just chiding Maewe, I’m quite ashamed to find myself impatient---but there is something I must ask you now. Do you dance well?" He smiled, an evil gleam in his eyes. "Naked?” Reginald’s look needed no explanation.
Kaname had no answer as she was led away. Given all of the events, she didn’t realize that she was missing a very important piece of jewelry.
The pin with the microphone sat face down under a table.
************************************************************
End of pt 4.
