Lanna's Tale

Trans-Di mail - section: Lab 23
Memo from: Peter Jewell, director of studies
To: Cedric White, general manager of Trans-Di R & D
Experiments going well. Project NEM-515 going far above
expectations. More powerful, intelligent, easily trained than any other
military specimen. Will pave the way nicely for project LAN-A9.
Waiting for approval.

Memo from: Cedric White
To: Peter Jewell
Not yet approved. Red tape is heavy; must keep information from
leaking to Mr. Alyn. Continue with NEM-515. Test him under extremes of all
types; we must find all existing problems before commencing with any
advanced project. LAN-A9 can only commence provided that all conditions
are ideal... I particularly must stress that NEM-515 should be
psychologically tested. If he malfunctions in battle, we run a risk of
letting this information get to Mr. Alyn. Mail me any advances.

Memo from: Peter Jewell
To: Cedric White
Massive accident at lab after testing NEM-515 psychologically. He
is unstable and will have to be contained. 5 of our technicians are dead.
One of them, LaFayette, was an enforcer. Only Stanton and Kerwin remain,
and should NEM-515 escape again, they will be unable to contain him. He
must be isolated. We have put him in the security block and shan't be
performing any more tests on him. These precautions will set back the work
on LAN-A9, but they are necessary.

Memo from: Cedric White
To: Peter Jewell
Very well. With things the way they are, you must start work on
LAN-A9 as soon as you can. Alyn has not yet audited me, but it may be
imminent if any more screw-ups occur such as the one at your lab.
Be aware that you will lose your job if an incident of this
magnitude should occur again.

Memo from: Peter Jewell
To: Cedric White
We have started work on LAN-A9 after only two weeks, and things
are going well. Its power will be small compared to NEM-515, but such
precautions are necessary-- it is to be mentally and psychologically
superior to NEM-515 in every way. The way it is being developed, it will
be able to be trained for military use very well.

Memo from: Cedric White
To: Peter Jewell
Over the past few months, I have received reports concerning your
work on LAN-A9, and I must admit that you have impressed even me, Jewell.
I have heard that LAN-A9 is being trained for tactics and battle use. Make
sure that it will be able to operate in the outside. Give it rudimentary
education in culture. Otherwise the shock will be too much when we allow
it out of the lab. I understand this should not be for several years.

Memo from: Peter Jewell
To: Cedric White
The tank battle near our lab with NEM-515 was disastrous. The lab
has been destroyed, and all specimens have escaped. This includes LAN-A9,
whom we have poured five years of extensive gene therapy and training
into. Everything is in shambles. Most of our MediTechs are dead. We need
assistance.

Memo from: Cedric White
To: Peter Jewell
You are fired.
I am sending Stanton and Kerwin to eliminate LAN-A9. You idiot.
This could jail me.

Lanna's arms stretched toward the sky as she yawned groggily.
Slowly, her scaly body uncurled and began to soak in the newly risen sun.
Smoke hung low around the area as the girl took a deep breath and then
rejected it in heaving coughs. What a hellish place, Lanna thought,
quietly standing up in the broken shell of a laboratory in which she
slept. I can't wait to find someplace new. Already the heat was taking its
toll on her body; light bouncing off broken glass all seemed to target
her. Bitterly she stepped over some rubble and made her way toward the
main road.
She intended to reach the road, but a scene near it gave her
pause. Watching from a safe distance, she saw a bizarre machine hissing
down the road, to come to a complete stop in front of a small, dilapidated
old shop. The odd machine was built like a very small, very unusual tank.
It was about 1.5 times the height of a normal human, and Lanna assumed
that it was human-operated, as it moved with an agility that a person
could only command from inside a cockpit. Lanna immediately noticed the
fear it commanded of the people near the store. They all ran screaming
from it, and it idly gunned some of them down with what appeared to be
real bullets. Whoever was driving this machine was ruthless.
One of the humanoids who hadn't run climbed on a dumpster and
shouted something unintelligable, flashing a badge or something and
drawing what was probably a Matter-Energy Displacement (MED) pistol. Lanna
couldn't help but admire the determination of a man who was willing to
face something as huge as the mobile tank was, but she could also not help
but worry about his soundness of mind.
Naturally, the tank gunned him down, and Lanna winced as he was
thrown backwards into the wall of the store.
Odd, thought Lanna. The bodies of the others exploded into clouds
of blood and guts. He just fell down and lay there.
The tank didn't seem to mind, as it promptly turned away and shot
out the windows of the store. As if unsatisfied, it fired a single rocket
into the interior of the store, and a very enthusiastic explosion
blossomed out of the building, smashing the few remaining windows. His
hunger for violence satiated, the pilot of the metal creature turned and
whizzed down the street again.
"That bastard,” she muttered to herself. With sudden urgency she
remembered the man who had not been blown to pieces and found herself
dashing across the road to find him. Lanna's nose wrinkled at the hovering
odor of fresh death that surrounded the scene and her eyes scanned
desperately until she spotted him. Carefully, she hopped over a few stray
body parts and knelt down beside the young man, who had been embedded in a
metal wall. Lanna lightly touched his shoulders. “Are you... all right?"
The young man, in response, stirred and sagged a bit. His arm was
still caught in the wall, so he literally hung out of the wall, stuck fast
to it by shrapnel. Lanna quickly moved to catch him, and noticed something
odd. On his shoulder, his shirt had been damaged and his shoulder lay bare
and hurt. He bled like an ordinary person, but Lanna noticed an odd
substance where his skin had been scraped away; a sort of subdermal
material. She reached out and touched it, and he winced and opened his
eyes.
"Aah. Don't..."
Lanna withdrew her hand. The young man shifted in his position and
spoke again.
"Damn him... I can't believe he got a juggernaut suit."
"Juggernaut suit...” she repeated oddly to herself. Instinctively
and silently she removed some of the shrapel carefully from his flesh and
set her orange eyes upon his face again. “Who are you?"
"Name's Alan Lemmich,” the young man said, looking about him for a
way to free himself with minimal pain. “I'm a Guardian-- human-- for
Trans-Di, incorporated. That juggernaut suit you just saw was piloted by a
man named Keith Gibson, a criminal who's given us the slip for several
months now. The man has more resources than the New Washington Government
Library."
Alan then braced himself against the building, and a small hiss
came from his shoulder joint as he pulled against the metal in which his
arm was embedded. The metal stretched, then broke, and Alan pitched
forward and stumbled onto the ground. Working his arm to make sure it was
all right, he turned to Lanna.
"I don't know that I recognize your race. Who're you?"
"I'm Lanna 9. I'm not sure there's a name for what I am, but I
came from the laboratory that used to stand across the road.” She paused
for a moment and glanced in the direction of where the criminal had gone.
"This Gibson... what does he want?” she said softly, almost to herself.
Lanna's gaze fell back to Alan. “Is your arm alright?"
Alan flexed his arm. “Yeh, it's fine. Diagnostics hasn't shut
anything down, so I'm going to assume that all of the damage is on the
surface. As for Gibson... well, the owner of this store was an informant
for us. Ratted Gibson out on a few things. Gibson doesn't take kindly to
stool pigeons, I guess."
The young man hopped down. “Did you see any survivors?"
Lanna shook her head.
"I thought not.” Alan took a deep breath and turned the corner of
the dumpster to survey the scene. After a moment, he quickly turned away.
"Guess I... haven't gotten used to the scene of a crime yet...” he
muttered. “Gibson's got a penchant for killing civilians."
"We have to go after him!” Lanna shouted, surprising herself a
bit.
"What..?” Blinking, Alan looked at Lanna. His face turned serious.
"You can't.. I don't even know you. This is strictly guar-” by some hand
of nature, he paused. Lanna took on a courageous tone.
"I can't let him get away after seeing so many lives taken."
Alan paused for what seemed like a very long time. “This is a
terrible idea,” he finally said. “He knows who I am, you know. He'll
likely try to eliminate me. The only reason I was set on his case in the
first place was as cannon fodder so the big guys could take him out."
"I... don't care.” Lanna replied.
Alan paused again. He then reached for his leg, and pulled a
concealed pistol from his shoe. “Here,” he said, handing it to Lanna.
"This is just a standard revolver, and it's only got six shots. Make 'em
count if you need to use them; that'll have to do until we find you
something better."
Lanna smiled graciously and thanked him as she wedged the revolver
securely in her belt. Then, at a change of heart she looked to him again.
"So the others don't appreciate you..?” Her eyes her intense like
the noon sun, but her mouth sat in a straight line.
Unused to such a question, Alan glanced back at her.
"Uh...” the young cop replied after some time. “Dunno that I
expect them to, really. I'm the rookie. I need to prove myself, is all.
Guess that's why I'm so keen on taking Gibson out. So long as I stay
alive, I can really only move up."
After a moment, Alan surveyed his condition. Although his body had
not been damaged very much, save for the bullet marks in his chest, his
clothing had been very badly damaged.
"I wasn't wearing my dura-kev stuff,” Alan remarked. “We ought to
go back to my apartment to get it. You'll need some too, if we're going up
against Gibson."
Lanna nodded.
"Let's go,” said Alan, moving toward his car.

Lifting itself up on nothing, Alan's car slowly pulled away from
the slums, gaining speed on the wide highway. After becoming used to the
speed of the vehicle, Lanna turned to Alan.
"Where are we going?"
"My flat. It's in New Washington... there's some equipment there
that we're going to need. I need to give you some armor and a close-range
weapon."
Lanna turned back to gaze at the flitting scenery, frustrated by
Alan's taciturn reactions. After a moment, she turned back to regard his
face. His eyes focused on the road, Alan didn't notice. Even when driving,
he seemed to focus solely on what he was doing, and his off-topic
responses were useful but brief. Annoyed, Lanna fell silent for the
remainder of the trip.
A few minutes later, the car glided to a halt in front of a clean,
simple-looking apartment building. The two entered the building and
boarded a large but crowded elevator. Noting the bizarre races riding with
them in the elevator, Lanna realized why no-one gave her any odd stares
because of her appearance. New Washington seemed a diverse sort of place.
The elevator made a quiet 'ping'.
"This is the floor,” Alan said.
They got off the elevator and walked a few doors down the hall,
stopping at apartment number 1614. “Pardon the mess,” Alan told her as he
opened the door.
The apartment surprised Lanna. Not because it was messy-- it
wasn't-- but because it was very... tasteful. It was not spartan and empty
as she expected it to be from Alan's personality, but it was adorned with
paintings and sculptures. Some of them, she surmised, were by Alan. She
made a mental note that this young man was not exactly what he seemed to
be.
"Here,” said Alan from inside a closet. “I've got some toys for
you."
She approached, and was immediately handed a crisp,
comfortable-feeling pair of jeans.
"The legs on these were too long for me; I'm pretty short. I never
returned them, though, and they'll fit you fine."
Lanna looked at the jeans skeptically. “Why do you want me to wear
your jeans?"
Alan smirked. “They're not just jeans. Goodness, that sounds
corny."
He then took the jeans from her and jerked at the material very
hard. It didn't tear. “These are made of dura-kev,” he said. “It's a
substance that can effectively stop bullets and leave you with nothing but
a nasty bruise. You'll need it if you're going to help me fight Gibson.
Try to avoid MED bolts and blades, though... not even this can stand up to
a Matter Energy Displacement blast."
He handed her a plain black t-shirt. “This is the same stuff. You
need to put them both on. Lastly, I'm going to give you something that's
been my pride and joy for years, so take care of it. I'll understand if it
gets destroyed, but try to keep it in good shape.” He turned back to the
closet and handed her a tan twenties-style trenchcoat.
"This,” he said, “is some of the best-made dura-kev around. It's
also comfortable and can conceal even a MED cannon if you need it to.” He
then grinned, holding the coat up to her. “Also, it matches your scale
tone nicely."
Lanna glared at him. He then cleared his throat and turned back to
the closet.
"Here are some loaders for your revolver.” He gave her three
cylindrical quick-load cartridges for the revolver, each with six bullets.
"Store them in the trenchcoat."
"There's one last thing.” Alan handed her something that looked
like an unusually thick laser pointer. “This,” he said, “is a MED knife,
one of the better things to have in a close melee."
He touched a button on the end of the device, and a short beam of
light shot from a lens at the other end. “Be careful with it. It can cut
through bone like a hot knife through butter, and with a little work,
it'll saw through dura-kev too. I don't know if you're trained to use a
knife, but hold it reversed in your hand, like this. You'll be less likely
to cut yourself."
Lanna stared at all of the stuff.
"In case you hadn't noticed,” Alan said ruefully, “I'm putting a
lot of faith in you, as well as about a hundred thousand creds' worth of
equipment ON you. This is because I need all the help I can get. That and,
well, I trust you. Not sure why.” Alan broke off mid-thought and looked
businesslike again.
"Now look. We've located Gibson's hideout through a wiretap, and
that's where we're headed. He's probably not there anymore... he's not
stupid. However, we need what clues we can find, and we'll probably find
some there. To get there, though, we're going to split up. I don't want
Gibson's men to see you with me; we want to make it seem like you have no
connection with me. That's why you're taking the metro there.” he handed
her a map. “Go to the Old Georgetown stop. I'll meet you there. To get to
the metro stop near here, you leave my building and go along Glen Burnie
street until you see the Glen Burnie metro sign."
"First, though,” he said, “you'd better change into that dura-kev
stuff and pocket your weapons and ammo where you can reach them. There's a
bathroom over there."
Lanna blinked herself out of the small daze induced by the large
amounts of crap handed over to her. Picking up the jeans, she realized
Alan's mistake.
"Would it be alright if I.. cut these?” Her tail waved a bit. Alan
looked up.
"Oh, sorry. Go right ahead, you can use the MED knife."
Without another word Lanna walked into a separate room and
changed. Afterwards she studied the mirror. Somehow the look of the trench
coat touched her heavily guarded feminine side; it caused a small smile.
Her hands quickly loaded the weaponry within the trench coat's pockets,
leaving only the map out for herself. She exited the room and headed
toward the door, turning to Alan bluntly.
"See you at the Old Georgetown shop."

The long walk down Glen Burnie alotted plenty of time for Lanna to
sort out things. Alan sure is an odd character. I wonder what he's really
like. ...I can't believe he put so much trust in me! She noticed a few
children cease their activities and stare toward her. Lanna sent a cold
glare their way and continued, her mind now somewhat blank. Suddenly the
sight of blood returned to her as the thought of Gibson passed by. What
causes someone to be so... horrible... inhumane. I don't know why I'm
suddenly so determined that I've set myself up a mission. I guess its
because I don't know what else to do. She paused for a moment and craned
her neck, gazing at the yellowed clouds. I'm so ignorant.
After reviewing the tables of her combat and weaponry knowledge,
Lanna had finally reached the metro. Although the inside of the car
smelled musty enough to force her to breath through her scaley hand a few
times, other passengers appeared either lifeless or menacing, which added
to the bizarre new atmosphere. People of all races got on and got off,
until Lanna only remained with about 4 others. The entire ride seemed
pretty tiresome until a strange person confronted her.
"Hey man... what the hell are you?” It was the dirtiest elf, no,
the dirtiest creature in general that Lanna had ever seen. His thin neck
arched forward; he appeared to be missing an ear and his dry skin was
spotted with either filth or some sort of rash, crawling down to his torn
baggy clothing. She didn't respond. Instead she only gave a disgusted
look. The volatile, filthy thing looked positively enraged.
"I said, what the hell are you, bitch?!” Lanna still only stared.
"I don't like it when dirty SHITS don't answer me!!!” Eyes aflame, the man
pulled out a rusted switchblade and held it at her throat, the very edge
of it chafing her scales. Lanna's orange gaze shifted to his in extreme
annoyance, then with a lightening reflex, she held up the MED knife to his
stomach and flicked the switch, making for a quick impalement. As the
grotesque creature dropped to his knees and then to the floor, the doors
opened, a woman's voice droned, “Old Georgetown,” and Lanna backed out
from the car uncomfortably. When she had reached the Old Georgetown stop,
her quiet daze was broken by a sudden grip on her wrist. She looked up to
two mysterious men.
Noting her intense gaze, the man who grabbed her wrist released it
politely. He was fairly tall, and stood about an inch above Lanna. He was
wearing a dark blue business suit with a black tie and looked extremely
officious, save for the long, dark brown hair he had pulled into a
ponytail. His square, heroic-looking face was offset by two intense grey
eyes that seemed always to be locked on Lanna. She quickly divulged that
the man was a professional sniper or a similar job, because he moved only
as much as he had to and stopped, and his grip was sure but not rough. He
smiled coldly at her.
"You are Lanna 9?” the man asked her in a british accent.
Lanna was puzzled, as the man had mispronounced her name grossly.
In addition, she was very nervous that the man knew her name at all. Her
eyes flickered to his clean, white shirt collar and saw the familiar
insignia of a MediTech from the destroyed lab. It was then that she
realized the man was not saying “Lanna 9” at all, but LAN-A9, her section
and cell number.
"That's her, Stanton,” the short man standing behind the first
said in an abrasive american accent, stepping into view. The most
noticeable feature of this second man was the spiky shock of red hair atop
his head. The second was that he seemed a constantly coiled spring. His
angular face was tense, and it seemed that his resolve to keep still would
snap any moment. Lanna noted the bulge of what were probably substantive
steel daggers hidden in his sleeves, vest, shirt, pantleg, and who knows
where else. Quickly giving him a once-over, Lanna determined that his
reflexes were probably superior even to hers, and that he could probably
demolish anything at close range. “Let's get on with our job,” he said
curtly.
"Formality, Kerwin,” the first man said in a very calm fashion,
"is the basis of civilization. Without it, my dear boy, you would be
little more than a glorified bat."
"Don't be racist,” Kerwin replied, then turned to Lanna. “LAN-A9,
I am going to be very frank. You are an escaped medical experiment from
Lab 23, yes? I thought so,” he said without waiting for an answer. “We are
the enforcement division of the MediTech staff. We are here to eliminate
you."
It took several seconds for this to sink in for Lanna. Her eyes
widened and she stepped backwards into a stance, ready to run. She noted
that the men had cleverly placed themselves between the stone pillars at
such an angle that she could not get to the entrance. She was trapped.
"Don't be too upset. It's nothing personal,” Stanton said
good-naturedly. He then pulled out a Beretta pistol and shot her in the
chest.
The impact was extremely painful, and Lanna was knocked backwards
several steps from its force. She placed a hand to her chest, expecting to
feel blood, but she realized that the dura-kev t-shirt had effectively
stopped the bullet cold. She was not wounded.
"She's got armor!” Kerwin hissed, revealing sharp, oversized
canines. In a fluid motion, he abruptly pulled two daggers from nowhere,
falling into a catlike battle stance.
"Bloody hell!” Stanton shouted angrily, drawing another pistol
from his vest pocket. “We may be in for some trouble, Kerwin..."
Kerwin did not waste the effort to reply. In a time less than the
blink of an eye, the lithe Meditech rushed forward and thrust his blades
at Lanna, who leapt back by only a hair's breadth. Stanton pulled the
trigger to his pistol with conviction at the same second, the bullet
cracking into a stone pillar as Lanna's feet touched the ground. She
whipped the MED knife out from her coat and lunged with a roar toward
Stanton, who pulled back with the reflexes of a well-oiled machine.
However, Kerwin was rushing toward her again, and Lanna felt it
overwhemingly difficult to avoid him. With a side step to avoid another of
the vampire's daggers, she swung the MED knife up and fried the end of
Stanton's gun just as he fired again. The plugged explosion caused him to
throw the gun away.
"Damn her luck!” Stanton frowned. With Lanna's concentration gone
for a second as the gun was tossed, Kerwin attacked once more with
increased fury. Somehow she ducked and then was slammed hard in the chest
as Kerwin's arms swung back. She hit the ground hard. Sweat glistened off
her scales as she rolled away almost frantically, Kerwin's blades impaling
the ground she covered just milliseconds ago. She glanced up. She was only
about two or three meters from the stairs. Lanna lept to her feet and
jumped behind a pillar as Stanton fired from his other gun. Gathering all
her remaining strength, she booked toward the stairs, angled herself away
from another gun shot and ran like hell up to the surface, nearly tripping
once over shattered tiles.
"You can't run, child!” Kerwin's voice echoed. “Open space only
means more room for Stanton to hit you!” The vampire erupted in a fit of
laughter.
As if to punctuate this, several reports sounded as a fussilade of
bullets whined about Lanna's body and she felt the impact of another
bullet against her back. She stumbled on the stairs and fell flat.
The echoing footsteps of the two MediTechs sounded behind her as
she tried to scramble to her feet, only to be knocked down by the numbing
force of another shot. She turned around and saw the Techs ascending the
staircase toward her.
"This is it,” Stanton said cordially. “Good try, though.” He then
lifted the pistol to aim at the prone girl's head.
Abruptly, the gun erupted in a violent bloom of shrapnel. Stanton
dropped the gun, cursing. His hand had been burned by the blast, and he
had a few cuts on his face from the flying metal. He turned upwards and
looked at what had caused the explosion. Lanna did the same.
Alan Lemmich stood impassively at the top of the stairway, his MED
pistol levelled at Stanton. “Good boy, Stanton. Drop it, Kerwin."
"Fine,” Kerwin hissed, letting his throwing knife drop to the
floor.
"What the hell,” Alan said angrily, “are you two doing?! You're
supposed to be eliminating projects that are a THREAT to the community.
LAN-A9 is NOT a threat.” Lanna was surprised at the fact that Alan knew
her actual classification.
Stanton stated coldly, “Our orders, Guardian, were to eliminate
every escaped specimen from Lab 23. It was a command from the head of
Research and Development."
"A carte blanche.” Alan said glibly. “Fine. Well, THIS specimen is
necessary. Consider it in custody, not escaped. I am, after all, an
employee of Trans-Di."
Kerwin blew up. “Fuck you, Lemmich! Our job is to destroy LAN-A9,
and we're gonna do our damn job!"
"Like hell you are,” Alan said. “Get the hell out of here before I
find myself using Lethal force. You ought to be dealing with something
MENACING from Lab 23, like the Nemesis."
Stanton paled. “Specimen NEM-515 is being handled by STRIKE..."
Alan laughed. “That's because y'all are too weak-ass to beat it
yourself! Get back on the train, and don't let me see your pretty faces
around here again!"
Reluctantly and angrily, the two MediTechs walked away.
"Need a hand?” Alan said, helping Lanna up.
"How did you know my classification code?” Lanna said as she got
up.
Alan looked down. “I sort of knew about you first. I work for the
company that owned the lab you came from, and also worked for the lab
itself at one time... I knew who you were, and that you were being
developed for military use. That's why I let you come along in the first
place. I should have told you about Stanton and Kerwin, though... sorry."
Lanna squinted her eyes in confusion. “I can't believe you know
all about me..."
Alan merely laughed. “All?” he said incredulously. “If you think
that an ID code and an info file is 'all', you've been spending too much
time in that lab."
She looked down. “Sorry. Well... I kind of have spent too much
time in the lab. Only all my life."
At that, Alan sobered and looked away from her. “Right. Sorry."
Feeling a bit awkward at the moment, she tried to bring up
something else. “S-so..."
Alan turned back to her, businesslike again. “I saw you get shot.
Where are you bruised?"
"Oh.” Her hands raised to her chest. “Here and then on my back.
The one on the back isn't too bad.” Her eyes met his again. For a moment,
they were held there as she got a glimpse of soft, sky blue eyes under his
businesslike fa
ade. He suddenly turned his back.
"Good.” He said. “We should go; the others are waiting.” He
paused, then turned back more slowly. “You're sure you're all right?"
Lanna was still caught for a second by the consciousness of Alan's
other side. After a brief pause, she spoke again, never taking her eyes
off him. “I'm fine. Others? Who're the others?"
"I'm one of four guardians assigned to this case... that's a lot,
for a normal case. It's me, Joseph Brooks, Isaac Beyer, and Benjamin
Hoover."
She nodded in acknowledgement. “Shall we go then?"
He nodded in return. “Let's do. It's only a short walk from here."
Alan and Lanna walked quietly down the cracked sidewalk until they
reached an old red brick building. On the crumbling front porch stood
three men. Alan waved to them as they drew closer.
A young man, probably several years over Alan's age, approached
them. He was taller than Alan, but he had a muscled sort of stature that
offset his height and made him seem about the same size as the younger
Guardian. He was black, and wore a long tan trenchcoat like the one Lanna
wore. He looked at Lanna suspiciously for a moment, then turned to Alan.
"Civilian, Lemmich?” he asked curtly.
"No, Joe.” Alan replied, sounding a bit annoyed. “She's military
class."
The man Alan called Joe looked surprised, and immediately seemed a
bit friendlier. “Oh,” he said. “Okay then."
Alan gestured to the man. “Lanna,” he said, “this is Joseph
Brooks, a friend and colleague. Joe, this is Lanna, probably known to you
as LAN-A9."
Brooks reached out his hand and grinned warmly as he shook
Lanna's. “Pleased to meet you. I'm glad you're going to help us with the
case.” he sobered. “She... IS going to help us with the case?"
"Yeah,” Alan replied.
"All right,” Brooks says. “Let's introduce you to the others."
The two Guardians took her over to the entrance to the building
and introduced her to Isaac Beyer, an older man with greying hair and a
very battle-worn appearance, and Benjamin Hoover, a bright, friendly sort
of man with spiky blond hair.
After the introductions had been made, Beyer looked fairly
businesslike. “Lemmich, we checked inside.” he said. “It's not pretty in
there. That SWAT squad that was sent in there... there's a pretty good
reason that we lost contact with them."
"Dead?” Alan said with a grimace.
"Just go in and look,” Beyer said, shaking his head. “He didn't
even use the juggernaut suit."
Alan walked into the building warily. Lanna decided to follow, and
the senior Guardians followed.
The scene inside was horrifying. There was blood splattered
everywhere, as well as more than a dozen dead bodies littering the room,
and the decaying stench of death filled the air. Few of the corpses were
in one piece; those that had not been torn asunder were horribly
mutilated. At times there were streaks on the wall where a victim had hit
the wall and been dragged across it. In one corner, a fire had clearly
raged, and many bodies were charred. 'Welcome Guardians' was painted on
the wall in blood. Looking at the carnage was a bit nauseating, and Lanna
stepped outside of the room for a moment. How could that have happened?
Guns don't cause that kind of damage...
"Look,” Alan said, pointing at the wall.
She looked. There were loops of some sort painted on the wall,
intricate loops that flowed in and out of each other and ended in points
and geometric figures. A sign that had in it a sort of beauty that it
would not merely take a mage to recognize.
"A summon spell,” she almost whispered.
"Yep,” Brooks muttered. “Tell 'em what it is, Ben."
"Unmistakeable,” Hoover said. “It's a dragon. We didn't even know
he was a mage, and now we find out he can summon dragons."
"Well, at least we know it now. If we don't give him time to draw
a sign, it won't do him any damn good anyway.” Brooks said angrily. “Let's
go."
"Right,” Alan said emphatically.
"No, junior.” Beyer immediately countered. “You're staying put for
communications and investigation purposes. LAN-A9, too. We haven't checked
out the scene totally, and we need someone to be able to radio in case we
get in a pinch. So stay put."
"But!"
"That's an order, Lemmich."
"Goddamn you, Isaac,” the young Guardian muttered, angry.
"I'm sure he does, Junior,” Beyer said, “but I don't give a shit."
The older man then walked out, followed by the two other experienced
Guardians.
Alan kicked at the ground. “Fine,” he said. “Let's look around."
After the three men left, Lanna turned to Alan, even though she
didn't know quite what to say. Instead she looked away and began to scan
the room, her brow creased in disgust as she stepped over severed limbs.
Alan began to look around the room. “A dragon,” he said with awe,
apparently having quickly gotten over his frustration at being left alone.
"We didn't even think he was a mage, you know..."
"Gibson seems to be quite an amazing bastard...” she replied
nonchalantly. Lanna, her face suddenly looking very intense, made her way
to the large summoning spell on the wall and began to study it.
"Hey, c'mere,” Alan called, tearing Lanna's gaze from the spell.
"I found some extra ammo and gear for you. Instead of that flimsy
revolver, some of these guys have intact berrettas."
"Oh.. alright.” She went over to Alan, but looked back at the
spell once more.
"Here you go,” he said, handing her a pistol. “There are several
clips, and you can clip them to a belt on your jeans to carry them. You
can...” he trailed off, noting her preoccupation. “...whatcha lookin' at?
The spell? Pretty, isn't it? In a gruesome sort of way."
"Yes... but there's something about it.. I can't place it yet."
She pocketed the new weapons and ammo, turning to the wall once again. “I
sense something wrong.."
"Wrong? I'd say so. It's a dragon sign. Dragons are pretty smart
creatures, you know; it'd be hard to summon and control one. And maybe the
carnage is unnerving you."
Without responding she returned to the wall and ran her fingers
along the symbol's stylized strokes, observing it with increasing
intensity.
"Lanna?” Alan said, sounding a bit concerned. “What's up? I didn't
know you were so into magic."
Finally she turned to him, her face contorted now with more
anxiety than disgust. “Alan.. I.. I think... this spell is a fake!!"
"Fake?” Alan looked surprised. “What makes you so sure?"
Lanna ran her fingers along the strokes again. “These lines are
much to clean to be magic. It must be just ...paint."
"Paint?” Alan ran over, taking his keys out of his pocket. He
scraped at the wall, and part of the spell flaked away. He stared at it in
horror. “It IS fake! But then how did all of this--” he gestured to the
carnage, “--happen?"
She shook her head in amazement. “I.. I don't know!” Lanna paused
in thought for a moment. “Should we alert the others?"
"But...” Alan looked very concerned. “Why? Why would Gibson want
us to think he summoned a dragon when he didn't? He certainly didn't want
us to think he's more powerful than he is. How did he...” suddenly, Alan's
eyes went wide with realization.
"No....” he said, horrified. “No, that can't be... that's not..."
Suddenly, the radio at Alan's belt crackled to life with Benjamin
Hoover's voice.
"Lemmich, need-- *crackle* -- immediately, Gibson is... *fizzle*
...going to--” then a hideous scream erupted from the radio.
The scream from the radio pierced through Lanna. She looked to
him, with an aura of heavy anxiety. “Alan, what is it?"
Alan snatched the radio from his belt and shouted into it,
panicked. “Hoover? Hoover? Beyer, Brooks? Anybody! FUCK! They're all dead,
they're all dead..."
Lanna's hand grasped the collar of the trenchcoat together with
immense tension. “What?!"
Alan whirled on her, his eyes wild. “Why do you think Gibson
painted that sign?” he said. “How could he have done this carnage? Don't
you understand?"
"I.. I..,” she tried to stay calm and logical. “I just can't put
it together..!” Her brow creased further.
"Fine,” Alan said, turning away and hurrying to the door, “but we
need to go. There might be survivors."
Frustrated, she silently cursed Alan for his silence. Why couldn't
he just tell her what was going on? Ultimately, however, she followed him,
being left with no alternative.
Alan hurried out of the door with Lanna in tow, talking as she
followed. “The boys had already told me the lead they found,” Alan said,
"... it was a note from Gibson, telling that he was waiting in a warehouse
by the Bay. He said that he'd leave his men behind if we did likewise.
That's why the others went alone. He seemed to express interest in
fighting me personally, though..."
She took the information in. “How far are we from the Bay?"
"About forty kilometers,” Alan said. “It should take around
fifteen minutes to get there. Plenty of time to get ready. I sure hope he
didn't kill all of them..."
"I hope.” Lanna kept up with Alan.
They finally reached Alan's car. Alan vaulted over the hood and
quickly got in. Lanna followed suit, very nervous. In the car, Alan looked
at her gravely.
"Buckle up,” he said simply.
Three seconds later, the car was speeding along the road.
She gripped the armrests and gazed intensely through the
windshield, her heart beating rampantly and her mind full of questions.
What the hell was up with Gibson? She turned to regard the man beside her.
Alan Lemmich, the man who was unafraid to face a juggernaut suit twice his
size, the man who had shot the gun out of a trained sniper's hand, looked
like a rookie for the first time that she had seen him. His hands shook as
he handled the wheel of the car, and his eyes were panicked, locked on the
street ahead of him. Whatever he had figured out had obviously scared him,
and Lanna didn't know why.
After about a quarter of an hour of driving, Alan stopped in front
of what looked like a wharf. “I don't dare drive any further,” he said.
He got out of the car, and she followed. “Here,” he said, tossing
her a grey square about two square centimeters in size. “This is an
assassination shield. It's not very good protection, really, but it'll
stop anything once. One bullet, one MED bolt, and about one second of an
explosion, even. But it'll break after anything hits the field it'll
create around you. Just press it to your lapel, and it'll turn on
automatically."
He took a deep breath. “Are you ready?” he asked. “What we're
about to face is worse than any nut in a juggernaut suit."
Lanna pressed on the shield, hoping that Alan had one as well.
"Worse than a juggernaut suit...” she repeated in quiet disbelief. She
nodded to him and wondered what she had gotten in to.
Alan walked ahead and pointed to a very large warehouse. “That's
it; warehouse number eight.” he said. “It's a big warehouse used for
storage of dry goods and foodstuffs, since there's a large refrigeration
unit attached to it. It hasn't been used in a while. I'll meet you at the
front of the building in about twenty minutes; we shouldn't move as a
group. Okay?"
Lanna nodded and took off in a direction away from Alan, taking a
slightly off-kilter route behind a few other warehouses. It was not five
minutes later that she ran into trouble.
Turning a corner of an abandoned highway structure, she almost ran
into two grim-faced men. Gibson's men... thought. One man of a darker
complexion stood shocked at her sudden appearance, as the other, a rather
stocky man hiding behind shades, pulled a silenced pistol from his leather
trenchcoat. In almost a blur, Lanna swung, attempting to kick it out of
his hands. Unfortunetely, she miscalculated and slid. Within the second, a
shattering sound erupted and the assassination shield dropped, devoid of
power, from her lapel.
"Shit...” the stocky man swore and began to fire rapidly.
Desperately she rolled away and leapt to her feet, drawing the beretta.
The dark man overconfidently drew twin MED knifes and began to charge her.
Barely dodging shots from the gunner, she pulled the trigger twice, both
bullets running the dark man through at first contact. Astounded for a
moment at this man's lack of skill, Lanna's guard fell momentarily, and
was soon awakened by several sharp pains to her left thigh, as three more
bullets ricocheted off her clothes.
"Damn bitch!! What the hell does it take?” The stocky man fired
several more times, one shot nearly hitting her neck as Lanna dodged side
to side a bit weakly, favoring her left leg. The gunner lined up a perfect
blow to the head. *Click*
"FUCK!!!!” Throwing a barrage of curses, the man stumbled and
quickly tried to reload. Lanna fell to her knees and viciously fired four
times. Two knocked the man in a chestplate he was wearing, one blasted
through his arm, ripping the black sleeve of his coat, and the other
struck home through his gut, a spray of blood littering the ground as he
yelled and collapsed.
A silent moment passed as Lanna tried to think. She brushed a few
strands of tendril-like hair from her face and got up slowly. Damn... I
took some blows. But still, that first man- why would someone like Gibson
put up with an idiot like that? Her thoughts cleared instantly as her
thigh cramped. She limped a bit, trying to cure the pain.
After an fairly long, arduous walk, the warehouse was in sight.
Keeping out of sight behind a smaller warehouse, she glanced up at the
huge, utilitarian structure, thinking that it seemed practically antique
compared to the city around it. She surveyed the structure, trying to see
a way in. As Gibson had promised, none of his men were patrolling the
structure, and the most accessible entrance seemed the person-sized door
near the enormous cargo door in the front of the building.
Lanna carefully leaned against the wall, then turned to go through
the door.
Abruptly, a hand caught her shoulder. She gasped at the sudden
touch and twirled around. Before her stood a young man dressed in a
t-shirt and jeans. His appearance was quite ordinary, but his visage
evoked horror from Lanna. His face was very gaunt, but somehow sculptured
and tragically beautiful. His eyes were very large, and of the sort that
could burrow into your mind and give you nightmares for weeks after. He
spoke in a tone that was very soft and easy to listen to; but seemed
somehow suppressed.
"You're... you're just going to go in?"
Lanna gaped for a moment in suprise, but quickly blinked out of
her daze. “I.. who are you?"
The young man looked down, a faint, rueful smile on his face. “I
didn't think you'd remember me. Well, I'm a friend. At least for now."
She studied his eyes with sincerity. “Well, I must get through."
He reached forward and brushed at the assassination shield on her
collar. Devoid of power from the battle, it flaked off. “Your shield is
broken. What if Gibson's aiming at your head when you go in?"
Instinctually Lanna's hand felt the collar, a crease forming in
her brow. “Shit..” she breathed. “What am I going to do?"
The young man gently pressed an assassination shield against her
collar. It buzzed, booting up. He smiled sadly at her. “Good luck...” he
said. “It's up to you to save him. And keep an eye out for a musician.” At
that, he began to back away.
She turned toward him, about to express her gratitude, but he
faded into the darkness before she could. However, her mind was now at a
greater concern. It's up to you to save him.. ?! Lanna began to walk
deeper into the building as steathily as possible.
About five steps into the building, she realized it was all for
naught. The area was huge, and she could immediately be seen from any
point in the enormous warehouse. She stood frozen at the scene of terror.
Isaac Beyer and Benjamin Hoover were pinned to the wall, gutted like fish,
and their blood smeared across the wall in bold letters.
And then there were two...
In the back of the building stood the large structure of Gibson's
Juggernaut armor. She turned her eyes to see where he was and a sharp blow
hit her in the head. The assassination shield shattered as the bullet
deflected harmlessly from her skull, but the shock knocked her to the
ground.
Footsteps echoed near her, slowly growing closer. Gibson probably
thought her dead...
Lanna's heart pulsed rapidly. Would she stay down? Certainly she
couldn't run away. Then again, he wouldn't be ignorant enough to leave her
body alone. Running out of time, she froze in place and tried to bring a
glazed look to her reptilian eye.
Her position was perfect. Lying on the floor, she saw a figure in
a dark business suit walking slowly toward her. When it reached her, it
stopped and toed her with a single wing-tipped shoe. When she did not
respond, it kneeled down and above her appeared the face of the most
attractive man she had ever seen.
She couldn't explain the attraction. His features were rather
standard. He had short blond hair that was magnificently coiffed, and an
angular, delicate face, but it was really nothing special. There was
certainly something unusual about him.
"Such a shame,” he said with a sigh. “A very pretty girl, too.
Still, I've got a job.” He raised a pistol to her forehead.
Fear engulfing her thoughts, Lanna acted in what she hoped were
her best instincts. A second before Gibson's trigger clicked, a scaled
hand came to life and knocked the pistol across the room. With this she
flipped up and lept back as far as she could.
Gibson reacted as quickly as she once the pistol left her hand. He
leapt back about four feet and was standing fairly far from her when she
rose to her feet. Gibson smiled. “Well done, LAN-A9... they've trained you
fairly well."
Every muscle in her body tensed as she tried to keep herself
totally aware. Once again the question of everyone's knowledge of her name
rose up again in Lanna's mind, but she remained silent, her orange gaze
fixed on Gibson.
Gibson smirked, and reached into his breast pocket. He quickly
pulled out a small pistol, and before Lanna could react, he tossed it
away. “So tense,” he said. “Relax. You know... I don't even think I can
kill you... you don't want to kill me, do you?"
Lanna gasped for breath, feeling a staggering sense of thoughtless
attraction to this man. What was he? He couldn't be human... what was he
doing to her? She struggled to think as her rational mind seemed to drain
away under an unbearable mental pressure.
She placed a hand cautiously to her head as she continued to stare
feverishly at Gibson. Then she took a quick glance around, erecting
herself to a more fearless position. Lanna spoke flatly, trying to
suppress her foolish, unnatural thoughts. “What do you want from me...?"
"I just want peace,” Gibson said helplessly. “Nobody will let me
have it. You have a gun, yes? Let me see it."
Lanna pulled out her gun.
Gibson grinned. “Drop it.” and suddenly the weight on her mind
coalesced into a hideous, irresistable force, and her fingers loosened.
Her mind screamed as the gun clattered to the ground.
Gibson smiled even wider. “Well done, lass. It was harder to
subvert that other one because he was so mechanical..."
As Gibson spoke, he pointed to where Alan lay nearby on the
ground. He seemed in a sad kind of shape; the Guardian lay limp on the
ground, submitting to his own weight, and there were bullet holes marking
his body. As if sensing her gaze on him, he groaned a bit and moved.
"Still alive?!” Gibson said disdainfully. He moved to where the
Guardian lay and kicked Alan's prone body. The Guardian curled up in pain
at the sharp blow and cried out like a child. “Shut up!” Gibson said, and
stomped on Alan's face brutally.
At that moment, something inside of Lanna snapped. She had not
before ever fought under emotion; she had been trained to fight as one
detached and efficient. But it was not her battle-worn fighter's side that
brought her out of her reverie. She saw her friend and comrade in battle
enduring horrid ridicule and humiliation, and herself in a helpless
position, and the human side of her awakened in a way it never had before.
That is your friend, it said. He cannot do that. And suddenly the
impenetrable mental wall of Gibson's charm seemed paper-thin and
insubstantive. The voice tore it with a loud cry:
RISE UP!
Suddenly Lanna's sun-like eyes seemed to shine brighter than ever.
With a vicious roar, she lunged at lightening speed, tearing out her MED
knife at Gibson as if it were her own claw. Her mind shouted triumphantly
Protect him!!!!
Gibson scarcely had time to turn around before she was upon him.
He managed a stifled “what the?!” before she reached him, but little else.
The impact drove them both several feet to the side, and a MED pistol
Gibson had reached for flew out of his hands, skidding across the floor.
Lanna's knife tore a hole in the sleeve of Gibson's suit (which was
obviously dura-kev), but did not cut him. At that, Gibson suddenly growled
and shoved her with strength surpassing that of any human. Lanna flew some
seven feet and hit the ground hard, dropping her MED knife, but her
durable body sustained the shock without pause, and she was on her feet in
another second.
"God damn it!” Gibson roared. “How did you resist--” the man
quickly regained his composure and looked around him. His gaze fell on the
powerful MED pistol he had dropped, and he grimaced when he saw it was
closer to Lanna then he, but he only let himself pause for a fraction of a
second. He speedily took action, running for the fallen pistol.
Her pupils flicked to Gibson as he launched himself towards the
gun. In a split second, Lanna had also lept toward the weapon. The scaly
body hit the floor, her hand sliding the MED pistol away from his with not
another moment to lose.
Shouting in frustration, Gibson grabbed her. The two of them
rolled about on the floor, grappling with each other, each full of sheer
anger. After only a few seconds, though, Lanna realized she was losing.
Though she was stronger than most non-cybernetic humans, Gibson's strength
seemed much greater than hers, and he was slowly gaining the upper hand.
Rolling to the side, she kicked the man backwards and scrambled to her
feet at the same time as he.
As soon as the two had jumped apart they were hovering back
together again like powerful magnets. In little time Gibson lunged towards
Lanna. There she prayed to any sort of existing deity that her instincts
were correct, and made little effort to avoid Gibson's muscular hands.
However, to Gibson, it looked far more like he had overcome her and won a
small victory for himself. They grappled once more, Lanna pretending to
get weary and weaker, hoping with all her might that the tables may turn.
Gibson laughed triumphantly and tossed Lanna to the ground. She
rolled with the shock, acting as though her strength had left her. Gibson
picked her up by the lapels of the trenchcoat, bringing her face level
with his.
"Too bad, my dear,” he said, grinning smugly. “You did put up a
good fight."
"I... did?” Lanna said weakly.
Gibson looked suspicious. “Yes... I suppose..."
"Well then!” Lanna shouted very abruptly, planting her feet on the
floor. She then braced herself, grabbed Gibson's jacket, and rammed her
head into his face. Gibson released her coat and staggered back,
surprised. Lanna quickly punched the man in the gut and followed up with a
left hook to his face. Gibson, stunned, could not respond except to
stumble backwards. Lanna finished her attack with a powerful side kick
that sent the man sprawling across the floor like a rag doll.
Gibson, on the ground, was badly winded, but almost immediately
began to cast frantically about for something to use as a weapon. Lanna
walked impassively toward the man after stooping to pick up her fallen MED
knife. Seeing this, Gibson panicked and scrambled backwards, trying to get
away from her. It is then that his hand fell upon Lanna's dropped pistol.
Lanna froze. Gibson triumphantly brought the gun around and
leveled it at her head. Lanna fell backwards, her hands reaching up to
protect herself. Gibson grinned wolfishly, squeezing the trigger, and his
head suddenly exploded into a thousand clean shards of crystal.
Several meters away, a badly wounded Alan Lemmich lay on the
floor, clutching a MED pistol in his grasp.
After a few moments of shock had passed her, Lanna turned to Alan,
who had begun to pull himself up.
“A..Alan!” She stooped down beside him, wrapping his arm around her
neck and slowly lifting him to his feet. With a soft moan, Alan tilted his
head to survey the crystal shards that littered the ground around the body
of Gibson.
“Thanks for saving me...” Lanna spoke rather breathlessly. Her orange
eyes searched their surroundings as well, until they snapped in one place
as if she had heard something. She placed her arm around his torso.
“I don't know what it is, but I think we should get out of here,
quick.” The grip of her arm tightened and she tried to urge him toward the
door. Meanwhile, a cloud of acrid black smoke billowed over Gibson's
crumpled form.
"W-wait.” Alan suddenly said. He pushed away from her and stood
shakily. “We can't leave... it's Brooks. Gibson... put him in the freezer.
I have to get him."
Lanna shuddered. “We've got to get out of here, Alan. I don't know
what's going to happen..."
Alan shook his head. “I do, and it's probably worse than you're
imagining. Here.” He held out his MED sword, a weapon resembling Lanna's
MED knife, but larger. “You've got to stall. You can't possibly kill it.
But I have to get Brooks. Just buy us some time. I'm switching to Aux
systems... I can make it. Just give me some time."
He then touched a point behind his ear and spoke. “This is
Lemmich. Get me a containment crew. It's Gibson... we're dealing with a
Rogue.” Immediately after speaking, he turned and ran full speed toward
the door to the freezer.
As if on cue, the cloud over Gibson exploded. The black smoke flew
into Lanna's face, blinding her. She coughed violently, trying to gain
back her bearings. As she stumbled about blindly, a voice spoke out
through the void.
"Damn you... damn you lemmich. Do you know how long it took to
fashion that body!” It spoke in impossibly low, impossibly loud tones, and
reverberated with an immense power. “It's the end of the line for you and
this... project."
Suddenly, the smoke cleared, and Lanna found herself staring up at
the hulking form of a massive gold dragon. She unconsciously hit the
switch on the MED sword, and its flickering, jagged blade tore through the
air at her side with a jarring scream.
"Hello again, LAN-A9.” Gibson said in his now-booming voice. “I
hear you've got some of our blood in you. Let's see if it makes you able
to fight me!"