MetroForce 1

© 2009 by MVmedia, LLC

MetroForce
By Milton Davis
Chapters 9 & 10
-9-

Levels below the surface, life in Atlanta was much more ominous. These were

areas even Diamond avoided, districts controlled by those who knew no limit to what

could be bought or sold. But justice existed, albeit in a harsher, more direct form.

The woman crouched on the ledge of the building opposite the Underground

Entertainment District, scanning the walk with electric eyes. Under normal

circumstances, finding someone in a mass of humans would be impossible. The woman

understood and came prepared. She swept the crowd, her eyes comparing each face to

those stored in her database. If he was here, she would find him. She had no doubt about

that.

The night passed and she continued searching. Suddenly her eyes focused,

drawing her attention to three dark clad figures pushing rudely through the throng. Her

eyes centered on the man in the rear, the green warning light flashing just out of her

viewing range. She blinked, the motion summoning a confirmation comparison. A holo-

image appears, superimposing itself over the suspect image in her frame as the red

confirmation light blinked.

She moved with the agility of a gymnast along the ledges, shadowing the trio

as they walked south. The suspect’s companions didn’t register in her database; no doubt

they would in the future. Another blink and she recorded their images for future

reference. She switched her energies to plotting their course. Their probable destination
MetroForce 2
© 2009 by MVmedia, LLC
was the Underground parking grid. She would meet them there. She increased her pace,

arriving at the parking grid in moments. The electronic guard was simple to avoid; she

crouched between personals, awaiting their arrival. The men appeared, their light

laughter reaching her enhanced hearing. She wondered how they can have humor, how

men paid to kill found any joviality in life. She lost her humor long ago when Antonio

died, murdered by men not much different than those she stalked. All emotions had been

stripped away from her that day, leaving a void that had been filled by revenge. It was

why she was crouched in the parking grid. It was why these men would die.

She followed them until they reached their vehicle. The tall one spoke.

“What say we go topside and scare the hell out of some money dogs?”

The suspect laughed. “You can take the man out of the grid…” His eyes lost

their humor. “Get that low level shit out of your head, Wolf. You’re a Capone now. We

don’t pop for fun anymore. We pop for pay. You’ll have plenty to do when the time

comes.”

“When will that be?” The Thin One asked. “I’m tired of tush tanks and biting

clouds. I’m ready for some action.”

“You’ll get it when you get it.” the suspect answered. “Now get in the damn

personal.”

She stood, leveled the stunner on the tall one and fired. The man gasped and

crumpled. She moved, crossing two lanes and springing up again. The thin one had his

bolter out, his back to her. The suspect was ducking into the personal. She charged,

shooting down the thin man and tossing the stunner away. Her hand darted into her hip

pouch and emerged stuffed with pop charges. She threw them at the rising personal. The
MetroForce 3
© 2009 by MVmedia, LLC
charges crackle around the vehicle, bringing it down with a ground shaking crash. She

backed away, hiding again among the personals. The suspect stumbled from the vehicle,

a bolter in his shaky hand.

“Okay, damn it! You want to play? Let’s do it!”

She smiled at his false bravado. She waited until the smoke cleared; the

dagger flew from her hand and into his. The bola follows, wrapping around the suspect’s

ankles and taking him down. She ran to him, kicking the bolter away.

The suspect looked up at her, his face contorted in anger and pain.

“Who sent you? The Chans? The Odores’?” He coughed and laughed.

“Doesn’t matter. I killed enough of both to deserve this.”

Driving the nails, she thought. She reached for her neck and shut off the holo

mask distorting her features. The suspect’s grin widened as her face was revealed.

“Well, well; a little pleasure with the pain. You’re too cute to be popping

Capones.”

“Shut up, bastard!” She regretted the emotional outburst. “Horatio Phillips,

you have been found guilty of the murder of Taki Namashita. I am your justice.”

The suspect laughs. “Not tonight, bitch.”

She spun but the tall man was faster. She managed to take the blow to her

shoulder, falling over the suspect and rolling away. She scrambled backwards, feinting

fear.

“Cut me loose, Wolf!” the suspect shouted.

“In a minute. I ain’t done with the lady, yet.”

MetroForce 4
© 2009 by MVmedia, LLC
She waited, her back pressed against the damaged personal. Wolf lunged and

she kicked out. The knife boot broke free and sank into his throat. He clutched for it with

dying hands, extracted it then fell. She came to her feet to stand over the suspect again.

“Hey, we can deal!” he said. “There are fifty kilo credits in my personal. It’s

yours! Take it!”

She was happy for the interruption. His fear pleased her. She kicked him in

the stomach.

“The charge is murder,” she announced. “The sentence is death.”

Maria took the charge, slapped it on his chest and stepped away. The first

blast jolted the suspect with 20,000 gigawatts, killing him instantly. The charge popped, a

sudden blue-white heat released and the body was incinerated. Maria repeated the

procedure on the unconscious tall man.

“For you, Antonio,” she whispered.

The pleasure dissipated, replaced by a gaping emptiness. She left the parking

grid, working her way to the nearest up tube, emerging moments later on the surface. The

lights of the dome pulsed against the night sky, resembling judgmental eyes. People

move about around her. She watched them, amazed at the joy and vigor in their eyes. The

middle levels didn’t exist to them, nor did they see the crime that surrounded their staid

lives like black smoke. She set her stare and walked to the station exit. Hans was waiting,

his muscular upper body gripped in a synth-leather jacket, a wool cap covering his blond

hair. She was pleased to see him, but not as pleased as he was to see her.

“One less killer to worry about,” he said. She nodded and entered the

Seagway.
MetroForce 5
© 2009 by MVmedia, LLC
“Two,” she replied. Hans stared at her.

“What do you mean two, Maria?”

“Another got in the way.”

Hans sat down before the driving panel. “You had the stunner.”

“And I used it, but it wasn’t enough.” Maria shrugged. “I probably did us a

favor.”

“So now we execute without evidence?”

Hans was overstepping his bounds. He had misread her kindness towards him

as something more intimate.

“You can quit whenever you like, Hans. This is my organization. No one

knows its purpose better than me.”

Hans turned away. They rode in silence for a moment until Hans gathered the

courage to speak again.

“Turn on the vid. There’s something I want you to see.”

Maria hit the vid button and the images appeared on the windshield. She

watched, studying the report with little interest. When it finished she felt her time wasted.

“So?”

“I think this deal might be good for Earth,” Hans said.

“They’re corporate, culebre,” Maria replied. “You give your faith too easily.”

“You never know. Maybe they’ll put us out of a job.”

Maria jerked her head about to Hans. He was losing it, just like the others.

They grew weary, time and revenge whittling away at the pain inside, eventually healing

their scars. She thought, hoped, that it would be the same for her. But at night the visions
MetroForce 6
© 2009 by MVmedia, LLC
would come and she would wake shivering and damp, her resolved infused. Maybe

Environ would make a change, maybe not. Either way she would do what she had to do.

She would do it for Antonio. She would do it for herself.

MetroForce 7
© 2009 by MVmedia, LLC

-10-

Michelle entered the Atlanta City Council chamber and was impressed; never

in her memory had there been a council meeting with everyone in attendance. The

mahogany paneled room glowed with flowing white robes trimmed in family kente.

Outside the combined private security forces kept an intense vigil. There we no reason

the UN should wish to attack them, but every precaution had to be observed. Eighty

percent of the power of Atlanta was seated before her, reason enough for the tight

security. They gathered in force to discuss one topic; Environ.

“I’m happy to see everyone here,” she said. “I’m sorry this couldn’t occur in

better circumstances.”

“Let’s get on with it,” Martha snapped. She was a matriarch, the oldest

member of the council. A thin, mean-natured woman, she stopped attending meetings

over twenty years ago. Her presence was a sure sign of serious tidings.

Michelle granted Martha’s wish.

“There’s no need going into details about the current situation. This meeting is

about accommodation.”

“Accommodation?” Albert Wilson inquired. “You can’t be serious.” Albert’s

physical appearance could be intimidating to strangers, but Michelle had sparred with

him enough to know his weaknesses.

“Exactly,” Michelle said. “Environ has done nothing we should be concerned

about.”
MetroForce 8
© 2009 by MVmedia, LLC
“At least not yet,” Nelson said. “Believe me; they’re not coming here to plant

roses.”

Michelle glared at Nelson and he settled back into his seat.

“Nelson has a point,” she said. “My intelligence tells me Terry Cline and

Kwame Simpson are security experts. It could be coincidence, or it could be something

deeper.”

“Such as?” Albert asked.

“Such as destroying our power base,” Michelle replied.

Martha let out a cackle. “That’s impossible. Westex tried and we crushed

them. Environ will go the same way.”

“Westex didn’t bring troopers,” Michelle corrected. “And we didn’t do

anything. The Squatters took care of them.”

Everyone seemed to stiffen. They remembered Westex and the “quiet war”

they fought outside the cities for control of the naturals trade.

“Environ would use force in the cities against us,” Cynthia Debarge said.

“That would assure a reaction from the masses.”

“Not necessarily,” Michelle countered. “Assigning Terry Cline and Kwame

Simpson here means Environ is planning to do something we never tried. They are going

to attempt to make the cities safe. The masses will be grateful. Any move against us

might be seen as positive.”

Michelle fell silent, giving the group time to absorb her words. She had spent

many sleeping nights going over the same reality before she discovered the solution.

“So what do we do?” Cynthia asked.

MetroForce 9
© 2009 by MVmedia, LLC
“We organize a shut down,” Michelle answered.

The room exploded in uproar. Michelle stood stoically, letting the insults pass

through her, waiting until the knee jerk reaction subsided. Albert’s voice became distinct,

his anger obvious on his bearded face.

“What the hell are you thinking, woman? That would give Cline just the

excuse he needed to put us under martial law.”

“The pressure is affecting you mind,” Martha added.

“You’re both right,” Michelle conceded. “But so am I. A shutdown will work

if only disguised as a general strike.”

“What difference does it make?” Nathaniel asked. “In either case Cline will

make a move.”

“No,” Michelle said. “I’ve spent a long time listening to Terry’s file. What he

did at the Belt was a forced decision on his part. He has suffered for it so much that he

hates to talk about it.”

“So you’re saying Cline won’t move against a strike,” Nelson surmised.

“Exactly. He’ll negotiate first.”

“You’re asking us to risk our lives on an assumption, which is what this is,”

Martha said.

“Have I ever been wrong before?” Michelle countered. The room fell silent;

Michelle held back a victory grin, not wanting to gloat. This was not a debate or a deal.

She was fighting for the survival of Atlanta.

Albert was the first to speak. “Let’s assume you’re right. How do we go about

creating this “strike?”

MetroForce 10
© 2009 by MVmedia, LLC
Michelle finally let out her smile. “I have a plan,” she answered.