Episode 3

This day dawned black. Black in both light, for the clouds of smog had come over with rain teeming down, and in mood. Dogtown was shaken, sullen; mourning its loss. Leandro was dead, Sweet was dead, Bear was hurt, and Miles was just nowhere to be seen. The eerie calm of daybreak was broken by the first stirrings of life in the Sub. Somewhat against the rub of normality it was Bones and Sparky who were up and about first; these two more "normal" than most this morning, their attentions firmly placed on the work of figuring out the panther beast. One thing was certain - it was no plain animal. Flesh and blood, sure, but no animal. Limbs of taut, twisted steel had been hidden beneath it's bulk. This was serious mechanics. Serious electrics. Serious genework. Serious goddamn everything. This was no gang-bangers backyard project. Markus, and right after him Lorry, emerged from the Sub into the rain. Lorimer was yawning, and took sad look at the crashed car, left where it had been - in the road - following the game of chicken with the robotic panther. The dead beast had been gathered and dragged inside for its examination, and now Lorry forlornly climbed into his old motor and willed the engine to start, coaxing the vehicle around to the Sub's garage entrance where an old disused line surfaced a block or so away.

Hovering over the techs was Syke, who hadn't slept a single wink. He kept pacing, and insulting both animate and inanimate objects.
"Okay, okay, so I need you gearheads to stay focused now. This is a fine wonder of technowhatsit for sure, but I need you to concentrate on one thing in particular. Are you with me? Hm?" He paused for a second, turning red eyes on Sparky and Bones. "What's important here is, how do we fucking kill the next one. Okay? Good. Hop to it."
The two techs were involved in their work, but Syke's presence - or rather his existence - was beginning to grate.
"Yeah, what one thing would that be, then? We might be facin' more o' these things soon Syke, " said Sparky, bleary eyed himself and clearly trying not to think about the day before. He realised he had basically paraphrased their audience and smirked grimly to himself. Gesturing with a screwdriver at Lorry, who had just brought the car into the Sub and was exiting the vehicle, Sparky added "crashing the car seemed to do the job, eh?" Lorry, looking tired, did not reply and started to tend to the car.

A cough came from behind the assembled. DJ had wheeled himself out to face the day, and the other Enforcers were beginning to shake off the stupor of shocked sleep. Syke stopped ranting, threw a look after the retreating Lorry, shrugged and returned his attention to Sparky.
"Yeah, well, we try that again, we have bigger problems than fucking cybercats. See the broken glint in Ol' Dumptruck's eye?"
Sparky's reply was accompanied by a solemn nod. "We've lost too much already. We're on this for what we can."
Somehow, Syke manages to shrug in agreement. The assembled behind them were muttering to each other, when suddenly Archer piped up.
"Where the fuck is Miles? Could've sworn he was..." She stopped and frowned. "Well, he wasn't one of the dead. Anyone seen him since....?"
Over where he had parked the crashed car, Lorry looked up. "No. And I have yet to see any fucking tools around here. Damn, I need to fix this freaking car." He kicked the car over and over again.
The other weary voice replying was DJ's. "Not seen him, not heard from him. He was elsewhere come the crunch, right? And Lorry for hell's sake, that car is the least of our worries. I know it's bloody dear to you but damn! Dogtown's going to be proper messy soon and losing Leandro is going to cause all hell. Plus we should honour the fallen, and sort out some sort of... succession"
Syke looked up from rifling through a plastic box. "Yeah, what Rollerboy said, screw the car. And someone find me some more fucking stims." The big mechanic dejectedly slid down to sit on the ground by the car with his dog at his side. Outside, the rain was thankfully keeping the city quiet.
"At least nothing much will happen under this sky" sighed Nikel. "Hell, this'd rust my jaw."
Tossing Syke a tube Johnson, with visible tearstains under his eyes, spoke in a horrid dirge. "The weather works for us, true. But this strike leaves us vulnerable. We need decisions. Actions. Leadership"
Archer groaned. "Leadership, right. Sod this for a game of Suits. Leader or no we stick together, right? Someone needs to be a face. Be seen, re-assure the territories."
Popping a quadruple dose, Syke spat. "Why not put Wheelchair in charge, then. Least likely to get in a fucking car with unknown quantities and throw a perfectly fucking adequate plan in the toilet."
"Don't speak ill of the dead, Syke." DJ's voice was cold. "I can't get out onto the streets and see the peeps." He continues, deliberately. "But I'll lead on this. We say words in their memory, a service, and commit them to The Tunnel."
Syke just threw his hands out in disgust. "Fine with me."
A shrug from Archer. "If we're going to give them The Tunnel, lets do it now for fucks sake, then we can at least look to moving onwards. Not fricking back. And back is bad."

Over in the corner, Bones put down some specs and walks away from the panther autopsy, leaving Sparky alone to do what he was best at, without interruptions. Wordlessly, Syke dug out a toolbox and dragged it over to Lorry. He even brought a torch. Lorry shot Syke a slight smile and levered himself up, starting work on fixing the car. As Sparky got on with his examination, and Syke and Lorry tended to the busted front end of their car, the others trekked to the far end of the platform, the wounded Bear making a detour to fetch both bodies. Leandro's goons, who had been staying with his corpse in a belated showing of loyalty and workmanship, appeared with her, and between them the three fixed the dead to the wagon. Pushing them off, DJ and Johnson spoke briefly about the fallen, touching words on both parts; the grief was palpable as the wagon was sent on into the dark.
"May the trains take them before the ferals do." Nikel, under his breath, summing up the thoughts of all. With the funeral over, DJ beckoned over both Archer and Bones, and shortly thereafter the two left the Sub without a word. Everyone else just prayed the rain kept falling and the city stayed quiet.

***

Later that day, and neither Archer nor Bones had yet returned and there was still no sign of Miles either. Sparky was still engrossed in his robotic autopsy. The Goons were milling about, not sure what to do with themselves, and becoming Enforcers by default in the process. Nikel was posted outside - as a weather guide and tasked with general scouting of the immediate vicinity. Over by the car, where Lorry and Syke were just about finishing up re-working the engine, Johnson approached, slowly. Tossing Johnson the half-empty stim tube, Syke stood up.
"Your drugs are crap, Dick." A moment of pause. "She was a damn crazy bitch, wasn't she?"

"Spare me the wisecracks, Syke. I'm really not in the mood." Inclining his head slightly, the ex-Suit relented. "Crazy wasn't the word"
Syke shook his head slowly. "Probably not. Okay, Van, that poor vehicle isn't magically turning into a spaceship today. You should stop, really."
Lorry looked up. "All done. It'll run, for a while longer at least. And if I did turn it to a spaceship you'd just crash it again Syke."
Johnson sighed "At least he has a darn focus now. Listen you two - you're the best double act we have. Need you to work closely. DJ is gonna take lead for now, but we need a face on the streets, and you two fit. Damn, none of the plebs are gonna want to mess with Lorimer here, and you'll be as good a match for any skirmishing Panther bastards as any."
Still blinking at Lorry's non-sequitur, Syke turned back to Johnson. "Yeah, fine, been itching to get out there myself..."
The ex-suit nodded at Syke. "And remember what we talked about before. Corp involvement here is certain. Don't think for a second that the attack was not connected to that murder you witnessed."
Syke simply returned the nod. To Lorry he said "ready to roll then, Spaceman Delusional?"
"Sure," Lorry replied, "but this time I drive, okay?"
Syke rolled his eyes, muttering. "You run over one big-ass robocat, you'll never hear the end of it." With that he climbed into the car, gleefully slamming the door entirely too hard.
Nikel appeared again. "Rain has stopped, trouble sure to follow," he grumbled.
"I fucking hope so," Syke grinned. "Okay, Semi, the speedy pedal is that one, the breaky one... nevermind. Go!" Lorry jumped into the driver's side of car, calling Markus, who jumped into the back.
Johnson scowled. "Go to it. I'll get the Goons to watch DJ as I take Nikel and scout some myself. Archer and Bones should be back soon, hopefully with Miles in tow. Lets just hope the town stays controllable, eh?" Tapping the roof of the car twice over the driver's door he waved them off, and Lorry threw the car into gear, reversing out the way he had nudged in, and spinning it around expertly to head off back up the tunnel to the surface.

***

The car pulled off, emerging out into the drizzle; they were on a routine patrol, where being seen to be out and active was paramount. The streets were, thankfully, still quiet, though with the precipitation now reasonable rather than unhealthy there were a few shapes visible here and there, huddling along, going about their business as the residents of gangland do. A few blocks later Lorry suddenly stepped on the brakes and the car came to a rapid stop; Syke was abruptly slammed into the windshield.
"What the fuck are you on about?"
"Just testing the brakes. I need to know they work" Lorry replied as he got the car up to speed again.
"Me and my swelling forehead are so happy for you."
"Sorry about the accident..."
Syke just snorted. "You think Dick's on the level? Bastard's good under the pressure, I'll give him, but he knows too much. Oh, why am I asking you."
"Sure why ask me? I'm just the guy with the big muscles." Lorry leveled his usual glare at Syke.
Unfazed, Syke continues. "My point exactly. Just saying, he's a dodgy one. Knew something like the Mad Suit was afoot, but vague on the details. Don't like it," Syke paused before continuing. "Like he's still connected to Uptown shit. But how'd that work? Should probably sweep his place for long-range comm gear or net plugs..."
Lorry started to retort, "Yeah..." but then just forgot what he was saying, attentive stare focused back on the slick, wet road. Clogged drains had caused huge puddles to build on both sides of the street and Syke's monologue was punctuated by occasional splashes as the car ploughed through the standing water.
"Really, what kind of fucking game is he playing? Tip us a vague warning, just to get us on edge, then... what? Oh, hey, what if HE disabled our cams and let the fucking cybercat in. I dunno-" Syke suddenly banged his fist on the dashboard. "All right, Dumptruck, turn this piece of junk around. I think we need to have words with the smarmy little turd."
As Lorry spun the car around he yelled at Syke "Watch the dashboard. It's still loose."
"Oh, shut up you big vehicle-humping, muscle-sack yuuuuuh?"
The car swung, skidding on the wet surface and going into a less controlled spin as Lorry momentarily lost control. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and a tire blew out, crippling the large man's efforts to correct the skid. Still spinning, the car careered towards the curb, where it smacked into a dumpster and halted in a deep, fetid, drain-block puddle.

Lorry let go of the wheel and started to get out. "Not a word."
Another loud bang punctuated his sentence, and the left-side window cracked. Markus yelped and growled; clearly the tire was no accident. Syke, not entirely with it, mildly concussed and stimmed to the eyeballs, burst out laughing.
"Come on... its just too..."
Another noise, more of a fizzle this time, accompanied by a loud curse. Not everything was going right for their unseen assailants. Syke finally snapped out of it and dove from the vehicle.
"Are there bastards shooting at us fucking again?"
Lorry made it out on the right side of the car, taking cover behind the vehicle. As he did a projectile sailed over the car, skittering away into the road and fizzling out in the murky water covering the surface. A flash of movement from the pavement indicated there were figures in the alley preparing something.
Taking cover best as he could, Syke hissed to Lorry. "Do something! Sic your dog on 'em, outflank, just... I'll keep 'em busy."
Lorry nodded in response, looking around before doing his best to sneak towards the alleyway. Raising his voice, Syke called out.
"Enforcers! Put down your damn hardware or you assholes are in for a world of pain."
Shouts of alarm were the only initial reply, as the attackers spotted Lorry and Markus making their way around the car, then there was a curse, the voice oddly familiar. Realising he had been spotted, Lorry released Markus and willed his long legs to get up to speed in order to close in on the attackers. Staying behind, scrambling for a tire iron, a torch, anything, Syke grinned.
"Pity the fool who hurts a vehicle-humper's vehicle."
Another scream from the attackers, more mean and full of intent this time, and the two figures near the mouth of the alleyway yelled obscenities at the approaching brute, lobbing the last of their home-made explosives as they did. A flash of light from the torch Syke found in his scrabbling played across the alley, revealing a third figure pounding feet to ground to escape down the passage. His partners, more fully illuminated, are wearing black, stylised, too good for the general population down here, but not good enough for Uptown. They were wearing Panthers' colours. The panicked throws missed Lorry by a way, though Markus instinctively jumped to catch one in his jaws. The other skipped wide, skimming away down the pavement and exploding harmlessly, sending garbage flying. Markus yelped, teeth closing around what he realised was explosives just in time to soften the clamping of jaws. Luckily it was another dud, and the dog simply spat out the canister, growling and leaping at the thrower.
"Oh come on," yelled Syke, "that one had to be a dud? You guys just suck." Lorry adding the full stop as he punched the other Panther hard. Both assailants were downed quickly by Lorry's large fists, with the slight help from Markus keeping them busy; meanwhile Syke set off chasing the third attacker, torchlight flickering ahead.
"Come back here and answer to the Flashlight of Justice you fuck!" But even at full pace Syke couldn't keep up and it became clear that this perp was going to break free. The few seconds delay whilst Lorry had closed on the two bombers had been enough for their companion to leg it, and reach the far end of the alley - a coverage of distance that was barely comprehensible. Out of breath, Syke returned to the scene of the scuffle.
"Ridiculously speedy. Did fucking Miles turn on us too?"
"Why don't you ask these when if they wake up?" The two beaten into submission by Lorry are down, both out cold.
"Best ... thing... you've said ever," huffs Syke. "Let's haul the trash back to base, then?"
Lorry dragged the two men to the car, "Sure, and I could even let you drive. Seems it doesn't matter." With little trouble the Enforcers loaded their unconscious captives into the back seats of the car, Markus jumping in eagerly, yapping at them.
"Some days, no," grins Syke. "Hey, rust-mutt. You can eat them, just save enough for a chat."

The drive back to the Sub was un-eventful, somehow the streets have seen little action, maybe folks were too scared to emerge, or perhaps the news of the deaths at the top hadn't circulated all that well. Either way, the biggest trouble was the burst tire making handling tricky, and the wear on the wheel rims. Even the rain had stopped altogether, and the route back was via the better roads with less standing water and more drainage. On hauling their perps into Holding, it soon became clear that all the squad had seen skirmishes, all bar the Goons, Bear, Sparky and DJ, who never left the HQ. Thankfully all had their stories of victory to go with it, but the news was ill: Panthers, every one. Perhaps as worrying, neither Archer nor Bones had word on Miles, still absent, still unseen. No body, no sign. Still the dark mood prevailed. A leader lost, an Enforcer dead, and now the 'hood under some kind of assault. The Panthers, it seemed, were moving in for the kill.