CRASH AND BURN

by Michael Surbrook and Mike Schiedel

"Fired?"

"I didn't say fired, I said 'let go.'"

"So I'm fired."

Duke sighed. What was it with the help at the Underground lately? First Crusher, now Jax? had all the bouncers suddenly gone crazy? Well, in Jax's case, "suddenly" wasn't the term to use.

"Look Jax, you get called on to break up a simple brawl... okay, not so simple a brawl, but your job was pretty clear cut: keep the patrons from killing either each other or the staff. Instead, I find you re-living some old op you were on God-knows how long ago, shaking down a customer for intel he never had to begin with!"

Duke took a deep breath and tired to calm himself. "Jax, listen to me. You've done a good job here, but how long do you think its going to take before word gets around that you've lost it? People are going to start trying to provoke you, both on the job and off, and I can't have that. I have no choice. So I have to let you go, understand?"

"Yeah..." Jax glanced around the still-wrecked interior of the Underground and nodded his head. "Yeah, I understand." A ripple of anger crossed the meat side of his face, but he kept it out of his voice.

"I hope you boys can find someone to fit your bill." His twisted smile looked gruesome as usual. "You've seem to got trouble finding us big brawny types that'll do bounce work in a bar. Wonder why," he said dryly before turning and clumping towards the back door. He tossed a wave at the blank mirror of the security station there, and slammed through the door as it was buzzed open for him.

"Lost it," he muttered to himself as he passed the line of employee vehicles, mostly motorcycles of various types. "I'd like to see how that pussy would handle some of the shit I've gone through. Everybody's happy to use you and ditch you when it ain't convenient no more," he snarled bitterly.

Reaching his jeep, a battered old '09 piece of Detroit rolling steel, he flicked off the red-level security and yanked the door open. Heavily settling into the driver's seat, he popped the bartending chip out of his head and savagely hurled it into the back.

"What the hell do they want in security, the freaking Empress?" he growled to himself. Starting the engine, he left a trail of smoking rubber as he left the environs of the Underground.

He drove aggressively as a matter of course, and being angry only exacerbated the situation. That was why when he slewed around one corner to find the road scattered with large chunks of concrete, probably dragged there by some punk kids thinking they were being funny, he wasn't able to avoid them in time.

The jeep jounced and scraped over a chunk of concrete somewhat larger than his head, twisted and severed iron rebars ripping into the underside of the vehicle with the squall of tearing metal. He brought the jeep to a shuddering halt, and jumped out with a vile curse.

Going down on one knee to peer underneath the chassis, what he saw did not improve his mood one bit. The transmission looked shot to hell, and strings of viscous black oil were trailing from the jagged edges. Damnit...

His amplified hearing picked up a subtle scrape behind him, something that a normal person would never have picked up. So, not just a malicious prank but an ambush. Perfect, someone to make pay.

Shifting as if merely standing, Jax whirled and brought up his metal arm, the concealed SMG popping up into a firing position as he did so.

And his organic eye widened in shock and surprise.

- - - - - - - - - -


<<ALERT>>
<<PERIMETER VIOLATION DETECTED>>
<<POWER LEVEL 25--50--75--90--95--96--97--98--99--100%>>
<<INTERNAL DIAGNOSTIC 10--25--50--75--95--96--97--98--99--100%>>
<<INTERNAL DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE>>
<<UNIT MI-66 IS FULLY OPERATIONAL>>

Within a battered and ragged room, which once had been part of a rather finely appointed rowhouse, the white-clad figure stirred and stood. There was a moment of stillness as it slowly glanced about the room, its gaze calm and unwavering. Finally, it drew the tattered length of cloth that served it as a cloak around its shoulders, brushed back its matted length of white hair, and picked up a long length of sharpened pipe.


<<SCANNING>>
<<TARGET ACQUIRED>>
<<DISTANCE: 20 METERS>>

With an almost ominous creaking, the figure walked out of the room, the length of pipe held loosely at one side, more like a spear than a staff. The floor depressed visibly with each step, and in one case, the water-rotted section of flooring simply gave way, causing the figure's foot to sink into the floor. The figure paused, pulled its leg free, and continued on without a backwards glance.


<<TARGET LOCKED>>
<<TARGET DIRECTION: NE>>
<<DISTANCE: 17.5 METERS>>

The figure dropped down through the gap where once there had been a stair case. It landed lightly, which was surprising considering the deep impression it left in the weathered and moldy flooring. With a hiss and a creak the figure stood, and then stiffly turned to face the street outside.


<<TARGET LOCKED>>
<<TARGET DIRECTION: NE-E>>
<<DISTANCE: 14.25 METERS>>

With strong, purposeful strides, the figure made its way down the ruined hallway. As it walked, it stepped over the silent and still corpse of what had once been a man. The corpse lay face-down, which was fortunate, considering the amount of blood that had pooled around the figure's head and stomach.


<<TARGET LOCKED>>
<<TARGET DIRECTION: E>>
<<DISTANCE: 10 METERS>>

At the entrance to the rowhouse the figure stopped and stood motionless. Its head made a slow scan of the street, taking in the smashed and shattered building fronts, the scattered debris and trash, the thick growths of weeds, the occasional twisted tree, and the rusty hulks of ancient wrecked cars. Finally, it let the would-be cloak slide free, to fall to its feet with nary a whisper of sound.


<<TARGET LOCKED>>
<<TARGET DIRECTION: E-SE>>
<<DISTANCE: 6 METERS>>
<<OPTIONS:>>
<<[ ] CONCEALMENT>>
<<[ ] RETREAT>>
<<[ ] RECONNAISSANCE - OPTION OFF-LINE>>
<<[ ] CAPTURE - OPTION OFF-LINE>>
<<[X] ELIMINATE>>

Moving forward, the figure froze again as its target, apparently alerted by the slight scraping of its foot against the crumbling concrete, turned and brought up one arm, which promptly unfolded to reveal a small-caliber firearm.

- - - - - - - - - -

Jax stared at the white-armored figure standing in from of him for several long moments, moments that dragged by far to slowly. Time, it seemed, had stopped momentarily, in order for the gravity of Jax's present situation to fully reveal itself. Here he was, in one of the more uninhabited parts ofthe Zone, armed with only his cybergun, facing off against what looked like a skin-less white-haired cyborg armed with a six-foot length of sharpened pipe.

Keeerist. "Hello, ugly," Jax murmured as he sized up this most unusual opponent. Frankly, things didn't look all that good. This... thing wouldn't feel any pain, and quite frankly he'd probably be better off hitting the damned thing with his fist than trying to shoot it.

Still. Backing up a step, Jax planted his artificial hand on the door of his damaged jeep and vaulted over the vehicle, micro-servos whining. He landed heavily on the far side, stumbling a few steps further away before turning back to face the 'borg. He had no idea what was up with this thing, and at the moment, he frankly didn't care. If it came after him, he'd see how it handled a large-scale gasoline explosion. He'd hate to lose his jeep completely, but he'd hate to have his head handed to him even more.


<<TARGET LOCKED>>
<<TARGET DIRECTION: E-SE>>
<<DISTANCE: 9 METERS>>
<<ELIMINATION MODE: ACTIVE>>

The figure crouched slightly, then leapt up into the air, landing with a rending crash on the roof of the Jeep, which promptly collapsed with a squeal of twisted metal and the shattering of glass. The arm holding the length of pipe snapped up and out, with the makeshift spear flashing across the open space to bury itself in Jax's right leg.

Jax bit back on a cry of feedback pain—with only partial success—as the crude spear ripped through his artifical leg, shattering microservos and severing isonerve fillaments. Holy shit, that thing was strong.

Activating his recovery augmentor, Jax tried to push the disorienting sensations out of his mind and concentrate on the plan at hand. Anything else would likely mean his imminent and painful death.

"That Jeep was a classic, asshole," he snarled, bringing up his cybergun. Not aimed at the psychobot, but at the growing puddle of gasoline leaking from the ruptured tank.

"Sayonara, sucker," he said, and fired.

His cyberarm spat a burst of hot lead slugs that tore into the asphault, striking sparks from the twisted metal body of the Jeep. Gasoline fumes ignited, blue flames racing in slow motion along the surface of the liquid until they merged with the drizzle coming from the tank.

The tank exploded, engulfing the crumpled remains of the Jeep and the psychobot in orange flame and knocking Jax backwards a good fifteen feet. He slid into an oversized chunk of concrete resting up against the curb, the impact knocking half the breath from his body and wrenching the crude spear free from his leg with a grinding squeal of tortured metal.

Lurching to his feet, his right leg hitching somewhat from the damage, Jax cackled hoarsely as the burning Jeep sent up thick clouds of black smoke.

"Burn, baby, burn," he wheezed, laughing softly.


<<INTERNAL DIAGNOSTIC 10--25--50--75--95--96--97--98--99--100%>>
<<INTERNAL DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE>>
<<UNIT MI-66 IS FULLY OPERATIONAL>>
<<WARNING: INTERNAL HEAT LEVELS EXCEEDING RECOMMENDED LIMITS>>
<<TARGET LOCKED>>
<<TARGET DIRECTION: E-SE>>
<<DISTANCE: 10 METERS>>
<<ELIMINATION MODE: ACTIVE>>

The figure stepped from the roof of the wrecked Jeep to land with a dull thud on the asphalt. Its once-white armor was stained and blackened, while its long white hair smoked slightly. Pausing, the figure stood motionless for a moment as vents flipped open, blasting out clouds of steam. Finally, it stood upright and looked at Jax, its left eye flashing a brilliant red.

"Aw, shit," Jax had time to say before the searing red beam of coherent light burned a rather large hole through his chest. He vaugely felt the ground hit him in the back, most of his attention fixed on the white agony that clutched at his chest. Absently he noted that it was too low to have caught his heart, but the sucking sound as he gasped for breath was a fairly good indication of a lung shot. His vision rapidly faded to grey, then black, and his last thoughts were, surprisingly, of relief...


<<SCANNING>>
<<TARGET TERMINATED>>
<<OPTIONS:>>
<<[X] CONCEALMENT>>
<<[ ] RETREAT>>
<<[ ] RECONNAISSANCE - OPTION OFF-LINE>>
<<[ ] CAPTURE - OPTION OFF-LINE>>
<<[ ] ELIMINATE>>

The figure walked over to the steaming corpse and bent to pick up the crude spear. Rising, it turned to scan the surrounding street, and then walked into a narrow alley between two leaning rowhouses, leaving the Jeep to billow black smoke into the sky.


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