The Retarded Warrior and 
DARK Lore Presents:

                   ** Lengths and Extremities: Part 2 **
                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                 * * * * *

	Darryl McAlister was stretched out on his side in front of an open
window on the fifth floor of the Eaton Centre. One hand was wrapped around
the handgrip of his medium-to-long range Windrider rifle while the other
casually placed a three-ounce broad-tipped stun dart loaded with a few drops
of horse tranquilizer into the manual feeder housing at the top of the gun.
	His spotter, Eric Turnbull, was laid out next to him with an
RSG-Sniper, a .30 caliber medium-range rifle. Worn over Turnbull's left eye
was a Range Piece, a little gadget made of metal, plastic and glass designed
especially for snipers to calculate large distances between the wearer and
the target using radar.
	"Range me," said McAlister who, because he was the primary shooter,
didn't wear an eyepiece of any sort.
	"600 metres," Turnbull replied.
	McAlister reached a thin, telescoping antenna out into the night breeze
and took a windspeed reading. He frowned at the small LCD display taped to
the windowsill and said "With this wind, maximum range would be..." -- he
counted quickly on his fingers -- "...about 200 metres; optimum range..." --
more counting -- "...125 metres."
	Turnbull groaned tiredly and announced into the radio "This is Bottle
Rocket. Target zone at 200 metres; blank at 125."
	Down the street, the two targets suddenly stopped.
	"What are they doing?" hissed McAlister, annoyed.
	"Looks like they're arguing about something," said a voice, presumably
belonging to Black Cat who was doing street surveillance in a car by the
road. 
	"Shit, this could get complicated if they split up now," Turnbull
whispered and scowled.
	McAlister gazed silently through the scope mounted at the top of his
rifle while waving an impatient hand at Turnbull, telling him to shut up.
	Turnbull replied by flipping McAlister the finger and then returning to
his Range Piece, not saying a word.

                                 * * * * *

	Kosk stopped in mid-sip. The two targets ahead were undoubtly arguing
about something or other. The plan was starting to stray off-course and
that, aided by the massive amounts of caffine that he had sucked down so far
that night, was making him nervous.
	He set his coffee down on the dash and got the night vision binoculars
out of the glove compartment.
	"What are they saying?" Sifton asked impatiently.
	Kosk, who was the surveillance man because of his lip-reading skills,
watched them intently with his mouth drawn slightly open. "Lover's quarrel,"
he said finally and replaced the binoculars. "Now what?"
	Sifton shifted a newly lit cigarette from one corner of his mouth to
the other and hissed "Get the Coda ready. We may have to get in on this
one." 
	Kosk nodded and reached into the backseat and got out the Coda Netgun,
a medium-sized gun designed especially for the live capture of humans and
animals. He loaded a 12' x 12' net with 5" x 5" mesh onto the front and set
the Coda in his lap.
	Sifton picked up the radio and said "This is Black Cat. We're prepped
for a drive-by. Please advise."
	In the case of an assassination, the drive-by would have been preferred
because it was quicker and had less chance to screw up but when the
objective was live-capture, the tactics changed mainly because of two
reasons: first off, the targets would be shooting to kill with live ammo
while the Manhunters would be dodging around, fighting with kid-gloves.
Secondly, the sound of a roaring car engine would tip the targets off and
give them a chance for escape. Despite this, most of the Headhunters who
work off bounties can't restrain themselves from attempting to pull off such
a hit, particularly when it involved such a well-known target. Self-control
and excellent teamwork were what the corporate Manhunters were paid for.
	"Black Cat, this is Bottle Rocket. Drive-by only if they split up. Your
target will be Karen James. Fire Wheel will take Elminster. Please stand by
for signal."
	"Black Cat copies that. We're waiting."
	"Fire Wheel standing by."
	Ahead, the bickering had apparently come to an end. Karen turned and
continued to walk towards the target zone and Elminster began to follow
behind. 
	"Looks like we'll be able to take it," Bottle Rocket said.
	Sifton held the radio receiver to his mouth and was about reply when
the distant growl of a car engine made him stop. It got steadily louder
until the noise exploded like the soundtrack of a climatic scene in a horror
movie as a black Lexus SC400 shot out of an alley behind them, made a
high-speed, fish-tailing right turn skidding halfway across the road and,
straddling the median, continued down the street, coming to a halt right
next to where Elminster stood, calm and unflinching.

                                 * * * * *

	Karen turned and rushed back to Elminster's side, hooking her arm
around his waist and hiding herself partially behind him.
	Elminster gave her a comforting look and patted her hand gently. "Don't
worry, it's just Dennis."
	Karen let go of him hesitantly and knitted her eyebrows, giving the car
a suspicious once-over. "Doesn't Dennis drive a white car?"
	Elminster didn't reply. Instead, he took a few steps towards the Lexus
and stopped as the driver's side door swung open and out stepped a man lean
in build and elegant in appearance. His silk jacket rippled in the breeze,
the fabric glistening under the light of the street lamps and the silver
moon which hung in a cloudless sky.
	Two other people sat in the car, one in the passenger seat and one in
the back, both alertly scanning the surrounding buildings.
	"Hi, Karen," Dennis said, waving and flashing his best lady-killer
smile.
	She smiled back and gave a little wave but didn't seem to share his
enthusiasm.
	Without bothering to close the door, Dennis hopped up onto the curb and
strode up to Elminster's side. His face was stern and serious.
	"Steve, you've got some heat," he said quietly, careful not to let
Karen hear.
	Elminster looked cautiously around as if expecting this unexplained
'heat' to jump out of the shadows and cut him into some very small pieces.
"What kind?"
	"The worst kind," Dennis answered gravely. "You've been locked by the
Firecracker Squad."
	Elminster's eyes shifted and the muscles in his jaw tightened
themselves. "You sure?"
	Dennis nodded. "I'm afraid so. One of our guys on the inside just sent
us a wire. It's classified 'Eyes Only'. Only corporate guys know about it.
The rest of the Headhunters that work off bounties aren't privvy."
	Elminster ran a tired hand over his mouth and breathed a faint
"Christ."
	There were three squads of Manhunters working for Aurora Incorporated
in Toronto and of them, the Firecrackers were by far the most famous among
the underground gossip. The group consisted of five highly trained weapons
and tactics specialists, two snipers and one communications/surveillance
man. They were the best there were in the area and had a track record of 102
successful missions and no failures. It could even be considered flattery to
be locked by them; the Firecrackers only hunt the best and many great men
had fallen at their feet.
	"I'm 103," Elminster mumbled dully to himself. "I've joined the ranks 
of legends."
	"You're not the only one," Dennis said. "They're after Karen too."
	Elminster flinched as if someone had zapped him with a joy buzzer. "Oh
God, no," he said and stared blankly into the sky. Then, slowly, life crept
back into his eyes and his expression brightened. "They want her alive!
Otherwise they wouldn't lock her. She doesn't even have a record!" He rubbed
at his chin thoughtfully. "The only reason they'd want her is to get to me,
so the best thing for us to do now is to split up." He put a hand on
Dennis's shoulder and gestured at Karen. "Take her home for me. If she asks,
tell her that she's been locked. Whatever you do, don't tell her that I've
been locked too. If she finds out, she may be hard to handle. I'll take my
own car back."
	Dennis frowned at the idea. Karen didn't like him too much, he could
tell. He was a racy, fast-track type of party person and his type of people
liked him a great deal. Those who weren't, didn't. There were few exceptions
and few who were entirely neutral.
	"All right," Dennis said after taking a stray glance back at her. "You
wearing?"
	Elminster shrugged. "No piece, no armour," he said. "I'm on a date for
Christ's sakes!"
	Dennis managed a dim smile. "I'll send Tony Ducket with you in case the
Firecrackers try to tag you somewhere between here and your car."
	He went back to his Lexus and Elminster heard him say "Tony, grab the
HK, my Davao and the extra vest for Steve and then go with him to his car.
He'll drop you off somewhere."
	A few moments later, a young man with an M-16 slung over his shoulder
got out of the backseat carrying two guns and a bulletproof vest in his
arms. Elminster put on the Kevlar and pulled his jacket on over it.
	At that moment, Karen rushed up and grabbed his arm. "What are you
doing?" she asked on the verge of panic.
	Dennis came over and took her by the hand, leading her slowly to his
car while softly explaining the situation to her.
	Elminster picked up the MP5K submachine gun in one hand and Dennis's
newly primed 4-shot revolver which he named Davao after the town in the
Philippines in which it was made a long time ago.
	"What do you have for this thing?" Elminster asked, gesturing with the
sleek, black Heckler & Koch designed MP5K.
	"Teflon," Tony answered and handed over two 30-round magazines held
together with a dual mag clip. "The other is your stopping power. It's
already loaded with four rounds of the M-16 standard. Careful though, that
baby's got quite a kick." Tony produced four more of the 5.56 x 45mm rifle
rounds. "These are for in case you need and get a chance to reload."
	Elminster nodded and crammed them into his pocket. "That's everything
then," he said. "Let's go."
	He had startd to move when Karen shrieked his name. He turned but
remained silent. Tears were streaming down her face.
	"They're after you too, aren't they?" she demanded.
	He said nothing, although a hairy, creepy feeling burrowed into his
heart, filling him with dread. She was obviously sharper than he had given
her credit for.
	"Otherwise why would they want me? Why would you be gearing up and
leaving me behind?"
	Seeing no other alternative, Elminster said "They're after both of us,
that's why we have to split up. Tony and I are going to try and catch them
before they catch us. You go with Dennis, he'll take you home. And don't
worry about me, I've done this hundreds of times." He managed to force a
weak smile and Karen seemed to get less worried and more furious.
	Wiping away her tears with one hand, she shouted "Stephen Elminster,
you low-life bastard, don't you go and get your sorry ass shot up for me! I
don't think I'd want to live without you."
	This time Elminster's smile was natural and genuine. "Not unless I have
to," he said.
	Karen climbed into the car and slammed the door shut behind her. The 
Lexus then did an 180 and drove off in the opposite direction.
	"Where's your car?" Tony asked.
	"By the Eaton Centre," Elminster replied and the two ran off, their
footsteps echoing back and forth between the weather-beaten buildings that
lined the street.
	Behind them, just out their field of notice, a car engine started and a
dark blue Buick pulled away from the curb and followed Dennis's car down the
road.SAUCE00Lengths & Extremities Part 2       The Retarded WarriorDark Illustrated    19941017o.

P