The Retarded Warrior and 
DARK Lore Presents:

                   ** Lengths and Extremities: Part 5 **
                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                 * * * * *

	Dennis had slowed down a bit and Karen was no longer being thrown all
over the backseat. The three of them remained silent for most of the way
with Dennis and Forbidden Image exchanging the odd comment here and there.
	As the Lexus rolled through an intersection, the headlights of a car
parked facing the wrong way at the side of the road came into view. From the
other side came the dim glow of the tail-lights of a second car, also parked
facing the wrong way, watching over traffic coming in the opposite direction
of which there was none.
	"Roadblock," Dennis stated and opened the dashboard's ashtray. He
pushed in the lighter and gave it a half-twist counterclockwise. A piece of
the ceiling above his head between the top of the windshield and the sunroof
slid quietly open revealing a panel of unlabelled square buttons of various
colours and some round, white buttons, distinctly separate from the square
ones and labelled with tiny black letters.
	"What's that?" Karen asked.
	"It's my James Bond rig," he replied and pushed a square blue button
marked with an A.
	"Yeah? Go on," Karen said. She was a big fan of spy movies and loved
all the trick contraptions in them.
	"A cute little device that your man Steve designed for me," Dennis told
her.
	Karen's interest was peaked further.
	Slowing the car down subtly, Dennis continued: "He got the idea from a
toy car he found in a basement some time ago which changed colour when
immersed in warm water. He took a bit of the paint to a lab for analysis and
then reproduced a more advanced version of the stuff which was able to
change into eight different colours at various temperatures. I tried to buy
the formula off him but..." he sighed, "no sale.
	"Anyway, the rig he made for my car required the total dismantling of
the body. He welded strips of electric stove ring material on the inside,
pieced my car back together and repainted it with his chameleon paint in
exchange for a small warehouse full of ordinance."
	"Then what does that button do?"
	"You can think of the changes as eight rungs of a ladder. At a certain
temperature, the colour shifts up or down a rung, but what colour it changes
to isn't predetermined. A dye has to be added in the manufacturing process
to program each rung for a certain colour. The first colour is black and
works for temperatures of 20øC or less. The second was what I just pushed
and it has different colours painted in different places. When the
temperature of the body hits 21øC, the car changes to look like one of the
Aurora patrol cars. Half of Steve's price was for doing that one alone.
Anyway, that's pretty much all that he told me. If you still don't get it,
ask him yourself."
	Karen nodded. "What are the white buttons for?"
	"Machine guns up front; smoke, oil, nitro and road tacks in the back."
	She whistled, impressed. "Wow. Is there anything that this car DOESN'T
have?"
	"Trunk space," he answered.
	They drove up to the roadblock slowly enough for the Headhunters on
duty to clearly see the Aurora logo on the hood and doors.
	They waved the Lexus through and continued to stare down the street at
nothing.
 
                                 * * * * *

	Elminster's head swam and a buzzing mist of static filled his ears. He
opened his eyes slightly and groggily looked around.
	By the light of a small light-bulb fixed into the ceiling, he could see
he was dressed in a yellowing white straitjacket and his legs were cuffed to
the floor of the vehicle that he was riding in.
	Two of the Firecackers shared the bench space with him, one on either
side and both staring out the small glass window opposite them.
	It was still night and they were travelling through an area void of 
street lamps. Off in the distance, tiny specks of light twinkled like fallen
stars. 
	From the rear of the transport came the steady roar of at least one
outboard motor. They were in a transport skiff, skimming across what he
guessed to be Lake Ontario, headed to wherever.
	Elminster closed his eyes and fought back a pain-induced groan. His
head seemed to be the only thing working -- just barely. The rest of his
body was numb and stiff.
	A click came from a small, rectangular speaker set into the ceiling,
followed by a voice that said "It's 0100. Shoot him again."
	Before Elminster could react, a pair of hands held his head from one
side and a cold metal object from the other side was pressed to his neck
just under his jaw bone. A sharp hiss and pinprick followed and he
immediately lost consciousness again.

                                 * * * * *

	Golgotha set down the Steyr TMP he was cleaning and snatched up the
Aurora ICC videophone on the first ring. "Hello?"
	"Jay, it's Dennis."
	"Dennis! Any word?"
	"We found Tony's body just outside Eaton's. They shot him up pretty
good. Steve's gone though, where is anybody's guess."
	Golgotha sat silent and thought for a few seconds. "They wanted him
alive right?"
	"Apparently," Dennis replied.
	"Why?"
	"Have no fucking clue. Info? Or maybe Aurora wants Steve to design
something for them?"
	"Perhaps but not likely. They have teams of engineers working around
the clock, taking stuff apart and putting it back together again," Golgotha
said. "What about info? They want him to narc?"
	"Oh! Maybe they're going to do experiments on him!" Dennis suggested
half-seriously.
	Golgotha wrinkled his nose at the idea. "That's not likely either,
though not impossible. Experiments can involve ANYONE, I can't think of any
reason why they'd want to single Steve out. Any other reason you can think
of for Aurora to want to nail him in particular?" 
	A short pause. "Revenge? Maybe one of the higher-ups has a grudge and
isn't the live and let live type. I don't know. That's the last thing I can
think of."
	Golgotha frowned. "Let's hope it's not vengeance then."
	Dennis nodded.
	"If they wanted him for info, what would they be after?" Golgotha
thought out loud. "Where would they take him if they wanted to know about
recent activities and future raids?"
	"Probably to Aurora Headquarters in New York or more likely the
Research and Design Complex on the lake since Steve's based here and isn't
really into shit outside of this area. In any case, they wouldn't take him
to a local Gestapo station, that's for sure. Narcs go straight to the
company."
	"Okay, what if they wanted to know about one of his old designs?"
	"The RDC."
	"What if they really DID want him for an experiment of some sort? Where
would they take him then?"
	"The RDC."
	"And which complex is the hardest to bust out of?"
	Dennis's jaw slackened and his eyes widened. "The RDC..." he said
slowly.
	"So he's got to be there. If he isn't, then he's in New York. One of
those two places for sure."
	"Assuming, of course, that he wasn't taken back for torture and
execution."
	"Shut the fuck up, Dennis!" Golgotha snapped. "This has not been a good
day for me as it is."
	"All right, all right. Go back to whatever it was that you were doing.
I'll tell my spies to be on the look out for him. Later."
	"Later."

                                 * * * * *

	Not too many people in the underground realize how often Corporate
Manhunters were killed while on active duty. The truth of the matter was the
chances that a non-surveillance Hit Squad member had of enjoying a career
lasting for more than five years was pretty low. It ranged from town to
town, depending on where they worked but on average 30% are killed, 40%
suffer permenant injury forcing them out of service, 15% snap to their
senses and bail out while they're still able and the remaining 15% continue
to stay on the payroll. It was this report that kept David Bentley, Aurora's
Toronto Vice-President, from being driven dangerously paranoid by the rate
at which his Manhunters were dying off.

                                 * * * * *

	Bentley and a ten-man team of utility maintenance workers met the
surviving members of the Firecrackers on the main deck of Aurora's largest
Research and Design Complex, a massive structure resembling an oil rig built
of concrete, glass and steel which stood in the middle of Lake Ontario.
	With his grey suit buttoned neatly and his tie tucked comfortably
inside, he stood just outside the railing surrounding the hydrolic lift with
his hands buried deep in his pockets and a blank expression on his face. 
	McAlister and Wilkens stepped off the platform first followed by
Turnbull and Raines. The men behind Bentley wasted no time in getting
moving. They filed quickly and quietly past the Firecrackers and onto the
platform, carrying off four black bodybags and Elminster who was still
drugged and unconscious.
	"Mission accomplished, sir," McAlister reported, saluting. "We went
to great lengths and extremities but we got him."
	"Mmm," Bentley replied, watching as the bodies of the deceased
Manhunters were taken past him and into the main complex. "But we lost
Sifton, Kosk and those two new guys who were just added to Fire Wheel last
month..."
	"Satchel and Morris, sir," Wilkens cut in briefly. "Yes sir, we lost
them too."
	Bentley gave a small shake of his head. "Pity." He pulled one hand out
of his pocket as he turned his back on them and began walking towards the
front door of the main building, waving at them to follow. "Get cleaned up
and assemble in the fifth floor conference room for debriefing. Dismissed."

                                 * * * * *

	Golgotha was asleep at his desk with his head laid down resting on one
forearm and his other stretched out towards the Playboy Desktop Calender
which sat angled on the corner. The videophone which sat on the opposite
corner rang suddenly, waking him with a jolt.
	He grimaced and rubbed the final reminents of sleep out of his eyes
while easing his body out of its make-shift sleeping position. His joints
creaked stiffly making him groan as he reached forward and answered the
phone on the third ring.
	"Yeah," he mumbled.
	"You were right, Sherlock!" Dennis said, excitedly. "Steve's in the RDC
on the lake. He was taken off the platform six hours ago. They're going to
relocate him sometime over the next hour."
	At this news, Golgotha became fully alert. "Is your man sure that was
Steve?" he asked. "I'd hate to bust into a huge place like that and put
myself at great personal risk, kill a bunch of people that I don't know only
to find that he wasn't there."
	Dennis closed his eyes and nodded annoyedly like a child who was being
given the same lecture for the millionth time about how his not eating his
peas would affect starving children in Africa.
	"Yeah, yeah," he said. "My spy was one of the guys who off-loaded him
and he'll be one of the guys who will move him from Detainment to the
BioSynth Unit on the third floor."
	Golgotha gave a satisfied smile and said "Okay then. If your contact is
positive then I guess we'll get together and work out a plan. Bring Leonard
and also Kevin and the NEB if you can."
	"Leonard would be no problem," Dennis said, "but I'll have to look
around for those other two. I'll try my best and meet you at the lighthouse
after lunch." He scribbled a few things down on a piece of paper which he
then stuffed into his pocket before adding "Oh, and for God's sakes, Jay,
shape yourself up a little! It's half past seven and you look dead-tired and
half-starved! Go clean yourself up and grab something to eat, man. You look
like shit."
	Golgotha gave Dennis the finger and hung up. He sat in his chair for a
moment and ran a hand across his face. His five-day stubble was prickly and
rough and rapidly progressing into beardhood. With a defeated sigh, he
admitted to himself that Dennis was right so he picked himself up out of his
chair and trudged off to the bathroom for a hot shower and a shave.SAUCE00Lengths & Extremities Part 6       The Retarded WarriorDark Illustrated    19941017Ö/

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