Dragon Path 
              by Ben Kosse (bmk7411@cs.rit.edu)
                  part 4: The Knowledge Needed

                     The Knowledge Needed

        Akisha rose and then held out her hand in an offer
of agreement. The signed contract was the only legally binding
sign of agreement, but she still believed in a code of honor. Her
handshake was worth more to her than any contract ever penned on
paper or entered onto a datapad would be. With her left hand, she
took the credit disk and, upon releasing Johnson's hand,
finalized the contract with her standard words: "and the other
half with your dead cyborg."
        She moved toward the door, Robert behind her.
Johnson groaned and placed his head against his desk. No, he
thought, this is exactly what I hadn't expected.
        He spoke into his intercom, "You can take your lunch
now." Then, he groaned to himself again.

        Outside the door, Johnson's secretary had just
received permission to have lunch. She rose and entered the
gleaming white elevator. Out of habit, she held the door, not for
Dragon, but for Robert. She ignored the woman in leathers, but
greeted the man kindly. Again, the force of trained habit.
        "Hello, Laurel," Robert replied as he joined the two
women in the elevator.
        Dragon slouched against the wall, the silver and
gold studs of her jacket kneading pleasantly into her back. Her
hands rested against the solitary railing on the back wall while
she surveyed the elevator for no apparent reason.
        Her glance stopped at the secretary, dressed like a
street whore. Akisha snickered inwardly, then lunged at the other
woman, throwing her against the side wall.
        The woman shrieked in protest, a protest which fell
on uncaring ears as the secretary felt a knee rub against her
groin while her arms were restrained behind her back. She saw
Akisha's face next to her own and seconds later, her lips were
parted as the bounty hunter forced a long kiss on the helpless
woman.
        Akisha released her hold a mere fraction of a second
before the elevator stopped. Laurel heard the doors slide open,
but didn't care. She slapped a smirking and snickering Akisha
anyway and began to storm off, not caring that it was illegal for
a female to raise her hand against anyone.
        Robert caught her arm and spun her around. "Laurel,
what's the difference between Johnson doing that--"
        "Or me?" Dragon interrupted, stroking Laurel's
cheek. "You don't want either of us to kiss you, but you don't
fight him."
        Laurel stood in abject silence while she watched the
woman leave. She heard Dragon's mocking laughter in her mind long
after the rebel had left the building.

        Robert sat in the driver's seat and waited for
Dragon to get comfortable before speaking. "That was impressive,
Mesu-ryu," he admonished, "completely scare the girl out of her
wits, bully around her boss and his lackeys, walk out 3.5 million
new ren richer, and then have the nerve to kiss her and get
slapped by her." He paused, looking at his unmoved companion.
"You, dear Akisha, are an enigma."
        She turned toward him and replied. "Yes, I suppose
so.... Yes, I suppose so."
        He shook his head and started the car. Its electric
engine hummed its readiness and he started down the road.
Buildings more than a block from the police center were in a
steadily increasing state of destruction. Garbage littered the
streets, and holo-graffiti obscured most of the so-called
structures.
        Gunfire could be heard every so often, usually
street gangs trying to stay one step ahead of the other gangs;
while laser fire was spotted as well, the result of street gangs
being slaughtered by cops or bounty hunters.
        But no one came near the remodeled Lambourgini
Countache. The black car decorated with a silver dragon breathing
golden flames promised a death more certain than even the best
military sniper. The license "DRAGON" struck fear into even the
boldest street gang leaders. There were the occasional upstarts
who tried to make a name for themselves, only to be found days
later--death caused by a single laser pistol shot through the
ears. It had only taken one eye witness to say that the shot was
made at fifteen meters for the gangs to stop.
        Such was the reputation of Dragon, and such was the
reputation Dragon would keep.

        Inside the car, Akisha was devouring the information
given to her by Johnson and occasionally commenting to Robert
about various little facts she had seen. Height, weight, build,
prior actions, and so on.
        Suddenly, she burst out in surprise. "Shit!" Robert
nearly drove onto the sidewalk.
        "What's wrong?"
        "Robert, this is bad," Akisha began. "To be blunt,
Slider was built from the most sophisticated military hardware.
Unfortunately, he was built from the brain of the dying lord of a
defunct startup gang."
        Robert slammed on the brakes, the few cars behind
him moved quickly, either onto the sidewalk, or the other lane.
"You're telling me that the newest cop 'borg was built from the
brain of a washout crime boss?"
        "Yes, Robert, I am. And, with his recent robbery
spree, it seems that he might be trying to rebuild his little
gang. Twenty million old ren, three police cruisers, eight sports
cars of various models, and several boxes of projectile
ammunition. Enough for a reasonable starting point."
        "Great," Robert managed, "not only do we have a
runaway cyborg, but his new gang as well." He looked down street
and proceeded to start down the road again. "Say, Mesu-ryu, what
exactly makes you sure he's starting his gang up?"
        Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she looked over
at her friend. "Because, Robert, that is exactly what I would've
done five years ago if I were in his position. That's all. Now,
it's my turn to drive. You look this stuff over."
        The two pulled over and switched positions. Neither
caring about the smog covered horizon and dirty, slum-ridden
streets for they were above it all, and above it all through only
their own actions.
        Robert slid into the passenger seat. Like every time
he sat here, he couldn't concentrate. Instead, he thought about
the single most important event in his life.
--
Ben Kosse bmk7411@cs.rit.edu                                    <#391>
BGC Otaku and worshipper of the Red-Eyed Goddess. Member of ShAS.
Anime, RPG's, computers, poetry (read/write), music (listen/compose).
Author of the Bubblegum Crisis theme pack (see the homepage below).
Homepage with anime and other interests. (http://www.rit.edu/~bmk7411)