Ergon V

While it was impossible to observe it at night, the acronym UNSF (United Nations Special Forces) was printed in the tail boom of the helicopter that flew over the area. The distinctive insignia of the Sentinels—an S-shaped triangle containing a geometrically-shaped eagle, both within a hollow circle—placed on the engine mount. Sitting on the edge of the chopper, a young woman had her right eye pressed to the lens of her sniper rifle's 2-8x32 telescopic sight. Thanks to the image that was magnified four times its actual size, she saw the one-handed fugitive heading to an idle blue sports vehicle, to then push open the left door to pull the driver out of it. Once he himself was inside the car, the traffic lights turned in his favor, so he accelerated.

As she followed his path from an enviable position, the woman witnessed the man driving his ride under a highway. Once he left the underpass behind, he dodged vehicles amid heavy traffic at high speed and with impressive skills. She often wondered if those men could try to employ their talents in activities within the framework of the law, some kind of sport, for example. Unfortunately, she was dealing with terrorists, ruthless men with no regard for the law, the institutions that upheld them, and the citizens who value them. That made him her goal, her mission.

And still, it was not as if she cared about him in the least. He was yet another meaningless human being who seemed even more insignificant at a distance. His actions, however, were another story. According to what she had been informed, the man had been identified as one of the participants in the attack on the US embassy in Japan. Many people lost something that day, from their fragile sense of security to the very life of a relative or acquaintance. The young woman had also lost something, albeit different. That day, she had stood silently by and watched how her own world broke apart…

With an effort, the woman forced the grim memory away. She had no time for that. She had to fulfill her duty regardless of the weight of her feelings in the matter. And she could not show even the slightest hint of fear or weaknesses. After all, she was a soldier; she had prepared herself her entire life for this. It was not a matter of enjoyment, even if she did find a certain delight in gazing at the whole city from the sky. It made her feel superior, in control. It was as though she was a deity taking p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e in contemplating the comings and goings of its creation. Not even her brother could avoid being part of the show.

Her brother. She had almost forgotten about him.

A few meters behind the car, an urban-camouflage painted sports bike was in hot pursuit. Its driver wore a state-of-the-art military suit that was hidden behind a thick cloak that billowed behind him as the wind came underneath. Hardly any feature of his helmet could be distinguished other than his V-shaped blue visor, which also was concealed under a ghillie suit hood. At the same time, the woman herself wore a similar armor, the glow in her helmet of whitish tone as the circle in her suit's c.h.e.s.t.

"Blue Jaguar, this is White Leopard," she said to her brother through the intercom inside her helmet. Those were their call signs, which were mandatory to use in two-way radio communication. "The suspect is almost three hundred meters ahead of you in a blue Toyota supra."

"Copy that," his brother replied over his own intercom. "Before stealing the car, the fugitive attacked a police officer. Is he okay?"

"Affirmative. He fainted, but his partner went to assist him. An ambulance and reinforcements are on their way." White Leopard aimed her scope back at the one-handed man. She felt a small tingle on her right index finger along with the d.e.s.i.r.e to pull the trigger. It was hard to resist the temptation to end the whole affair without any further delay. After all, her fearsome rifle gave her an advantage over her fugitive, a certain kind of power. She liked that.

"Should I take the shot?" she suggested to her brother.

"Negative. There are far too many cars and people involved. We need to take him to a more contained area to avoid casualties."

What a pity. Of course, she expected that response from her brother, and to some extent, he was right. But the woman was under no illusions that such an outcome could be avoided, for she was convinced that a chase in downtown Tokyo would not end up quite well. Yet, in the end, all she wanted was to take part in the action. To be seated there without doing anything of actual relevance was something that made her felt useless, expendable. That was something she was not comfortable with. Yet, for the moment, all she could do was examining the situation from above.

As the helicopter gained some altitude, the one-handed man turned down northeast into a narrow street where he remained for two hundred meters. Then, he turned southeast into a single-lane road which ran parallel to the train tracks of the Yamanote Line. At the same time, the motorcycle burst into the narrow street.

"What can you tell me about the car?" his brother inquired.

The HUD inside her helmet gave her information about the vehicle, from detailed blueprints to advanced technical stats, all of these in superimposed layers outlined with a semitransparent white color. "Mark-five model, recent, with a hybrid six-cylinder engine. I don't think it can go over two hundred and sixty."

"I can't communicate with Big Boss, so let him know I don't require any additional Sentinel personnel."

"Understood." White Leopard did not sound pleased. What was going on with her brother's radio? The pre-mission checks had not hinted at problems; she herself could contact their base of operations without any inconveniences. Or perhaps her brother lied to avoid direct contact with Big Boss? She could ask him about it, of course, but her suspicion was something she dare not speak aloud. After all, the organization behind their deployment was listening to their conversation, and she would never betray her brother. At least she owed him that much.

Since there was no point in arguing any further, White Leopard shifted her gaze back to her rifle's scope. She gazed at the Toyota moving at full speed along the single-lane street without any vehicles or people to get in its way.

"It doesn't look like the guy is going to surrender easily. What's your move?" she asked.

"I'll try a direct approach to get a tactical scan and avoid surprises. Then, I'll proceed to capture him," his brother answered.

"At least let me call for some backup—"

"I think I've been clear enough about that."

If she had been by his side right then, she would have slapped him in the face without second thoughts. There were moments when he simply drove her crazy. "You and your stubbornness," was all she managed to come up with. "Why do I have the feeling all this will end badly?"

"Your optimism is much appreciated. Blue Jaguar out."

White Leopard was far from convinced of her brother's course of action, but there was not much she could do from her position. With a hint of disappointment, she settled for the fact that she would be nothing more than a mere bystander of the whole spectacle.

-

The screech of the motorcycle's tires rumbled across the narrow street as its driver dived into the paved road. The bike's hybrid four-cylinder engine roared as it reached one hundred kilometers per hour in two and a half seconds. Its sound became a harrowing cry as it gained speed while its tires ripped the pavement without mercy. Blue Jaguar kept a tight grip on the handlebar while he went fast through the gears. But even though he was more than satisfied with his modern world's mechanical beast, the vehicle he was pursuing was far from being a child's toy. How had that man had the luck to run into a high-performance car? That Toyota Supra Mark V—a rebirth from the classic model of the nineties—reached the hundred mark in just over four seconds and, as her sister had mentioned, could reach two hundred and sixty of maximum speed.

The glow in his helmet sparkled with as much bright as his own vehicle's headlights, his tattered cloak waving aggressively until the motorcycle's engine took a breath. Blue Jaguar pushed the gear pedal downwards as he straightened his posture, first leaning to his left to tackle a long chicane, and then to his right as he resumed the road that bordered the tracks of the Yamanote line. If the information transmitted by the display on his helmet was correct, the fugitive was one hundred and fifty meters ahead veering into a shallow S-shaped turn after which the street turned southeast. Since there was no way of knowing his fugitive's destination, Blue Jaguar assumed the safest course of action was to mimic his exact same route. After all, his advanced suit, his powerful vehicle and the constant vigilance of his sister up in the sky gave him a clear-cut edge.

Inside the helmet of his armor, Blue Jaguar grimaced as he spotted his prey ahead without a shadow of doubt, the brightness of the light poles bouncing back on the Toyota's electric blue tilt. It was about time. Facing the hunt on his own, Blue Jaguar knew, had been a bold decision, so it was necessary to put an end to it before it was too late. But he wanted no support or tactical roadblocks. The one-handed fugitive was his prey and no one else's. This was his opportunity to put his talents to good use.

As Blue Jaguar began to fill the terrorist's rearview mirror, the bastard was swinging from left to right, leaving vehicles behind in his attempt to hold the motorcycle's fierce charge. One could have come to think that he should have already crashed by then, but it seemed he was a skilled driver after all. And once Blue Jaguar was on his heels, the fugitive showed he was not going to give up so easily.

Both vehicles came across an avenue with two lanes per direction, the green lights favoring the countless cars and buses moving right through it. The Toyota hurtled round the bend, forcing the oncoming vehicles to slam their breaks. But Blue Jaguar did not date to fall behind, his bike's rear wheel skidding as he counterbalanced the weight of his body to keep it stable without losing speed. It was then that both drivers met a short tunnel over which the railroad tracks they left behind now stretched across. The overpass enveloped them in a gloom packed with yellowish lights and a symphony of vehicle engine's sounds that echoed all over it.

It was then that the one-handed man savored his next move.

As soon as they left the tunnel, the Toyota swerved from the inner lane to the outer one, sweeping away the right-rear end of a car in the process. The vehicle began losing control and skidded to the opposite lane, where it was smashed by a bus right at its driver's door. The onrushing automobiles panic-stopped before such a calamity, sending a high-pitched scream of pain into the night. Blue Jaguar cursed the bastard under his breath as he slowed down with sharp instincts, summoning all of his expertise to avoid the halted cars while still accelerating.

He reached the crossing with the prefectural route 416 a few seconds later, steering into it through a long steeply skid. He hissed softly between his teeth as he almost bit the sidewalk, his body barely a few centimeters away from the tarmac given the steepness of his ride. Just a little more and Blue Jaguar would have found himself slipping on the ground away from his bike, which would have gone on its own until colliding into something along the way. Fortunately, that was not the case.

In the meantime, a few meters ahead, the one-handed man had reduced his speed as red traffic lights were still holding the traffic. But before Blue Jaguar could even be grateful for this, he gazed with wide eyes at the Toyota slowing down to then hit the curb and pull out onto the sidewalk. Thankfully, there were no people walking by at that time, since neither the reduced space by a flower shop nor a series of parked bicycles, which were all over the air once he got to them, cut off the one-handed man's frenzy. What a madman! At least the idle cars were not a problem for Blue Jaguar. He took advantage of the small size of his vehicle, reduced his speed, and managed to squeeze through the tiniest space forged between the fence that split the opposite lanes of the artery and the row of automobiles.

But something had eluded him.

Another curb ramp a few meters past the flower shop allowed the Toyota to go back to the asphalt, its shock absorbers bouncing hard on the street as it stumbled upon the bike winding up on the junction's crosswalk. Its tail swerved in such a way it ended up lunging towards Blue Jaguar. The muscles in his arms tightened as he struggled to tame his unruly two-wheeled steed to avoid the onslaught of the fugitive. But after a few seconds of tire squealing and snaking back and forth, he regained control of his ride and headed toward the opposite lanes, going up a curb ramp to evade the stalled cars.

Since the lights had turned green for the vehicles driving across the route 416, Blue Jaguar found himself racing towards his prey once again. His ride sliced the wind around him like a knife as he made his way through light traffic, shifting from lane to lane while he caught the whisper of the car's engines he left behind. He had to admit civil drivers were doing a fine job since they managed to hold steady during his entire run. One dumb maneuver was all it would take for chaos to erupt all around him, yet some of them even give him some road as the chase swept by. In the end, it took Blue Jaguar about half a kilometer to close the gap with the fugitive, whom he found overtaking a car from the outer lane. He decided to shift his bike next to the edge of the guardrail to make his move on the car amongst them at the same time.

He would soon come to realize it had been a mistake.

Without warning, the blue car moved sideways and rammed the other vehicle against the motorcycle. As Blue Jaguar greeted his teeth at yet another brash maneuver by the terrorist, he swerved to the opposite lanes during an intersection to avoid a collision—only to stumble upon several cars that were coming right at him. He felt his stomach tighten as the vehicles before him began hitting their brakes to avoid bumping into his two-wheeled ride. He could have done the same, but that would mean losing precious meters to his prey. And he would not allow that to happen.

Blue Jaguar's pulse quickened as he shifted the weight of his body to one side and then to the other, his motorized steed swaying to the rhythm of his movements. He was close to colliding with one or two cars, but the precision of his maneuvers allowed him to leave behind the pressing danger. Yet, as he steered his bike across several lanes and swung back into his previous path upon reaching the following crossing, he realized the blue Toyota had pulled fifty meters away from him. Given the amount of traffic and speed differences between both vehicles, Blue Jaguar guessed he would catch up with the one-handed man in another five hundred meters.

And once he arrived at the wide crossing with the prefectural route 418, he found his fugitive once again. Blue Jaguar was now a few meters off the tail end of the Toyota, ready to devour his prey once and for all. Yet as he swerved left and found himself alongside the Toyota, the one-handed fugitive pulled a sudden stunt. Somehow, he managed to switch lines just in time to hit the left-rear end of another automobile driving along the 416. Sparks or orange and yellow jumped as the car's front bumper slammed the containment fence at one of the corners of the intersection. Yet the vehicle crashed so hard it ended up bouncing and smashing the left side of another car, the glass of the passenger seat window exploding as a consequence.

And so, Blue Jaguar's ride came to an abrupt halt. For the wrecked vehicles filled all three driving lanes and obstructed his path. Overcome by impotence and rage, he smacked his fist against the handlebars as he gazed at the fugitive's car fading away in the distance. He had gotten away.

"Seems that bastard always finds a way out," his sister's voice barged into his speakers without notice. "Why do you insist on doing this on your own? All you have achieved so far are mangled cars everywhere."

As expected, she was only interested in getting results. For her, it was all numbers and variables that affected her performance. The value of human lives, it seemed, was something that eluded her. "He's not a common thug," he remarked. "If we scare him, he might do something unforeseen and someone might get hurt. I won't let that happen."

In effect, he could not allow that to happen. It was not merely the obligation that had been imposed on him, but the responsibility he had with himself. Blue Jaguar knew no such thing as acceptable losses. Even if he were to take a major rebuke from those responsible for his crusade, as they would be displeased to witness the disaster he caused, he would do things in the proper, honorable way. For as long as he managed to apprehend the one-handed man, the mission would have a relative but sufficient success for his superiors.

With that determination in his mind, Blue Jaguar kicked the motorcycle and put it into gear. He worked his throttle as he pulled off a sluggish maneuver amid the tight space available between both halted vehicles, hearing the high-pitched w.h.i.n.e of his engine in the process. And the moment he took advantage of all the power of his machine, he screamed off in pursuit of the fugitive once again.

As the chase progressed into Minato ward, the trees surrounding the route 416 began to fade away little by little, the shadow of a highway some meters above the road becoming more pronounced until it ran alongside it. The flashes of the streetlights that gave life to that night followed one another near Blue Jaguar, as did the howling of the vehicles he left behind each time he shifted from lane to lane to dodge them. He weaved through the crowded sections masterfully, his ride's engine giving him back a throaty roar every time he shifted gears. The motorcycle felt like a missile under his hands, eating up the road before him along with the sewer covers it thumped over.

And as the bike revved up above one hundred and fifty kilometers per hour, Blue Jaguar saw everything around him blending into a single and unblemished river of color and sound flowing past. Every now and then he set his eyes on the speedometer, which marked just over two hundred kilometers per hour, oscillating every time a vehicle fell behind. For a brief moment, his mind got lost in the sound of his breathing and the constant hammering of his heart. Even if it was only the spur of the moment or a mere release of adrenaline and endorphin into his body, Blue Jaguar felt more alive than ever. He could practically feel the weight of the world abandoning his shoulders. He saw himself enjoying his duties for the first time…

Until the glimpse of the blue Toyota's brake lights in the distance brought him back to his obligations.

Less than a block in front of him, the one-handed man was carving a risky path through traffic, darting to a side to move past a truck. Blue Jaguar saw the car's tail squat down, its tires blurring as the fugitive punched it harder, trying to get whatever his vehicle had left. The motorcycle loomed up towards the car until it slid in behind it as they reached the next junction. Blue Jaguar was now less than half a meter off the tail end of the Toyota.

Yet, while it looked like the one-handed man had run out of tricks, he still had an ace up his sleeve. His car switched to the opposite lanes through an abrupt movement, forcing Blue Jaguar to slow down so that he would avoid crashing into the guardrail. But the young man would make sure this time that the fugitive would not get away from him. He moved his ride behind the car once again, accelerated until his front wheel was almost touching the Toyota's rear bumper.

It was then the one-handed man ran into an oncoming vehicle. He swerved bluntly towards the inner lane and nearly bit the metal fence, almost as if he had failed to realize he was driving against traffic. At the same time, the motorcycle made its way around the other car, until Blue Jaguar found himself side by side with the Toyota. All at once, he knew he would never get a better chance, so he drew near the driver's door and seized the moment to inspect the interior of the vehicle with his scanning system.

What he found there, however, he never saw it coming.

Blue Jaguar narrowed his eyes as he came across a strange device that flashed an array of wiggly lines. They had to be wires, he decided, but its purpose was not entirely clear. There was also a tiny screen that seemed to be monitoring the fugitive's heart beats. Yet Blue Jaguar's throat only tightened when he heard the sudden click, his gaze dropping to see the mechanical arm holding out a pistol.

Yet even so, Blue Jaguar watched in amazement as his fugitive smashed the window with his elbow, the glass shattering outward as he pulled the gun out of his car. But he dared not to hesitate. Adding gunfire to his already frenzied pursuit entailed an unnecessary risk, even more so if he wanted to avoid casualties. He worked the throttle on his handlebar just as some layers of his bike's tires were torn apart by the effort. At the same time, his vehicle climbed onto the sidewalk amid an awful shriek that was followed by a small cloud of smoke.

In spite of this, the one-handed man ended up firing two shots from his gun, none of which hit their intended target. As he was ready to unleash his weapon one more time, he found out yet another vehicle was threatening to hit him head-on. Blue Jaguar gazed at the fugitive as he yanked his steering wheel all the way to dodge the vehicle—only to find yet another oncoming car. He counter steered, but not quickly enough. The vehicle hit the Toyota in its right-rear end and the car span out of control as it reached the intersection of the 415. There, another vehicle smashed the blue car's passenger door, completely denting the steel plate inwards while the pieces of broken glass filled the seat inside. The fugitive was rammed from head to toe until he regained his balance right after the airbags were triggered.

And so, Blue Jaguar gazed at the wrecked cars amid the intersection between routes 415 and 416 as he moved his ride with caution over the sidewalk. He came to a stop at the apex of one of the streets, right below the shadow of the highway as it made a turn to the left above the junction. But as he was ready the get off his bike, he caught sight of the one-handed man. He was already out of his vehicle, without apparent injuries, and he was looking straight at him. It was almost as if he could discern the exact location of his eyes behind the helmet that hid them.

Something was wrong.

"Can you get a lock on him, White Leopard?" spoke Blue Jaguar to his intercom, anxious.

"The helicopter is moving into position," her sister replied. "The highway complicates things a bit."

Blue Jaguar greeted his teeth, his heart hurrying in his c.h.e.s.t. He did not like where this was going. As he fixed his eyes on the fugitive, he noticed he was holding out his pistol with a strong grip. His eyes were cold as stone, and there was not even a drop of sweat on his face. He was up to no good, for sure. Yet Blue Jaguar wondered what the hell he wanted to accomplish. After all, his bullets were insignificant before his armor, so it was pointless to shoot at him. And then, he felt a cold chill running through his back as he came to the realization. A crowd of people had gathered in the area, most of them standing right behind him. So, if he was not his objective...

"Everyone down!" he yelled in despair, his voice filtered outwards to mask his identity.

Yet the gun had already found its target. Blue Jaguar felt his stomach tighten, and what only were a few seconds seemed like an eternity for him...

The shot must have left an atrocious noise since the passersby in the surroundings seemed to have shuddered at it. Blue Jaguar had not caught even a snatch of the blast given the filters on his helmet, but what he did manage to discern was that a woman beside him had felt to the ground. Blood was pouring from her left shoulder and smearing her coat with a dark red. Some people shouted in panic, while others covered their mouths with the palms of their hands in disgust.

The one-handed man, in the meantime, had moved to a halted car on the 418. His driver had left the vehicle in an evident attempt to help those who had been involved in the crash. However, all he bumped into was a terrorist pointing him with the gun he had just shot. He moved to the back of the car, encouraging those who were sitting there to abandon it—just as the fugitive climbed onto it and shut the front door. Blue Jaguar also heard the helicopter's rotors hovering over the highway. It seemed that his sister had positioned herself at the opposite end, the reason for which she had been unable to take the shot at first. Too bad.

Blue Jaguar proceeded to set his motorcycle's rucksack on the ground to put it on lock and abandoned his vehicle. Yet, by then, his jaw tight had stiffened, his teeth clenched as the face beneath the helmet became a mirror of fiercely battling emotions. He could hunt down the fugitive one more time, without a doubt, but there was also the possibility that the injured woman could not wait for the arrival of medical aid. And, in the end, it was likely that his own overconfidence had caused that incident in which she had been unfortunately involved.

His doubts, however, were dissipated at the moment the terrorist shoved off the scene in a rush in his newly acquired red automobile. Right away, Blue Jaguar hurried to her. As soon as he knelt by her side, the display inside his helmet began to show him information related to her vital signs and body anatomy. He gazed at separated layers of her bone structure, which were presented to him in transparent bluish graphics, including the veins and arteries of her circulatory system, anything that would allow him to take a measure of the extent of the damage.

"Is she all right?" his sister's voice broke inside his helmet.

A long breath he had not realized he was holding fogged Blue Jaguar's visor. "It seems so," he replied at White Leopard. "The bullet went clean through the shoulder. No vital arteries were compromised," he concluded, though for some reason the bleeding would not come to a stop. He pushed both the woman's coat and her shirt off her shoulder, completely exposing her injury. He also gathered the index and middle fingers of his right hand, a slight electric charge bursting around its junction. "Sorry, ma'am. This may hurt a little bit."

The woman shivered from top to bottom almost as if she were having a seizure, Blue Jaguar holding her body tightly with his free hand. The startling development seemed to worry the people who had converged on the area, even if some less fearful fellas took the opportunity to pull out their cell phones to get a digitalized record of what was happening. Yet all they did was try. Blue Jaguar then envisioned their faces as they would come to realize that neither their cell phones, digital tablets, or other electronic devices would operate as they should. He even caught a bit of their chatter in the meantime.

"How weird, my phone's not working," said one of them, confused.

"Neither's mine. What's with this interference?" replied someone else.

As murmurs and grumblings multiplied behind Blue Jaguar, he could not help but roll his eyes. They were witnessing yet another technological wonder his suit provided him in its eagerness to mask its true nature. What dismayed him most, however, was the lack of concern these people showed for the woman who had been injured. At least it seemed his labor had come to an end since he came to realize that a tiny gray fog was emerging from her wound.

"I used the charge to generate heat and cauterize your wound," he told her with his masked voice, the woman's gaze clouded by fear. "Don't worry, an ambulance is on its way."

Since it was likely that his sister would be demanding one by radio, Blue Jaguar decided he was no longer required in that place. He went straight back to his motorcycle, and as he mounted on the seat, he kicked-started it at once, the engine w.h.i.n.ed in protest as he urged the revs up. The one-handed man had about a minute head start on him, and he could not afford to waste any more time if he wanted to prevent a death toll from taking place.