C&C is always appreciated.
------
Just a Night on the Town
This is a work of fanfiction. Opinions expressed are only the
authors, and do not, in any way, reflect upon the actual show. Dominion
Tank Police, and Dominion Crusher Police are copyrights of Masamune
Shirow. I do not want any credit for the characters, nor will I accept
any. Comments, Reviews, Insults, Flames, and/or Death Threats may be
sent to Platinum_Dragon@dragonsanime.com to reach me.
This fanfiction is about the budding relationship between Al and
Leona, which is never really explored in the Dominion series. Every
once in awhile the series looks into it, but never very deeply. This is
set shortly after the events in Dominion Crusher Police (New Dominion
Tank Police in the US).
---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---
Leona Ozaki jumped down from the turret as Al entered the Tank
Police HQ garage. She paused a moment to pat her mini-tank, Bonapart,
and then turned to him, grinning. Al was out of his uniform, dressed in
a pair of blue jeans and a white shirt, with a baseball cap covering his
blond hair. The team advertised was the Minnesota Twins. Leona
inwardly sighed. They hadn't won more than five games in one season in
the International Baseball League since 1999! Ah, well, she supposed
that they needed all the fans they could get.
"You ready, Leona?" he asked, grinning back. She nodded.
"Just give me a few minutes to change into some human clothes.
You know how wonderful our uniforms smell after a patrol."
"Yeah. I'm gonna take another quick look at Bonapart's clutch, it
sounded like it was a bit sticky again when you rolled out this
morning." Leona laughed, on her way to the ladies locker room.
"How'd you enjoy your day undergoing ability after sick leave
reviews?" Al's answer was cut off as she went around the corner. This
was only his third day back after being in the hospital for nearly a
month for jumping between her and that bullet. She had a sudden twinge
of guilt as she thought of it. If she hadn't of been so stupid, he
never would have been shot trying to save her.
Leona opened her locker, hand automatically dropping to catch the
armor-piercing shell that fell out. She really had to remember to put
those back in Bonapart. Specs had been snooping around looking for
them, and she had pulled them, figuring he didn't have enough guts to
try getting into the ladies locker. Not that he'd survive it if he did.
She stripped down and out of her uniform, and paused a moment
to regard herself in the mirror. She had a petite body, and she knew
it. Her breasts, while shapely, barely managed a C cup. She was thin,
agile, and short. Not like those Puma twins. She grimaced. While Al
had been under review by the Chief and Britain, she had been after those
two again. They were slicker than oil, splitting up and going down two
side alleys that were too small for even Bonapart to fit between.
Sighing, she slipped into a pair of shorts, and a tank top with a
strapless bra underneath. Dressed in clean clothes now, she tossed her
uniform into the locker, and banged it shut.
On her way back to the garage, Leona grinned to herself. Al had
traded a date for a paint job on Bonapart nearly three months ago. She
wondered if he realized that he could have just asked . Probably not,
but then, what man did? They always thought they had to impress a girl
to get a date.
And if she was a little impressed, well, she supposed that
couldn't hurt anything.
"Let's go, Al!" He pulled himself out from under the tank,
holding a small cogscrew.
"The teeth on this are worn away. No wonder the clutch was
sticking. I put in a new one, so next time we shouldn't have any
problems." He stood, brushed off a little dust, and led her outside, to
a pair of motor bikes. Leona looked at him, surprised. "I didn't know
that you could ride." He laughed.
"My dad is a real motorcycle nut. I grew up around them. He owns
a small farm out in the country, where he's got..." He trailed off a
minute, looking up. "He's got about one hundred thirty six there, now.
I think. Any way, I just thought you might like to get out of the tanks
for a night, I mean, well... You know." He tossed her a helmet.
"This is getting better all the time." She selected her bike, a
streamlined one with blue trimming. Al got on the other, and they sped
off into the heart of the city.
The Chief cautiously stuck his head around the corner, and looked
into the garage as the sound of the motorbikes faded away, and, seeing
nobody, entered, Britain following close behind. They inspected the
garage, found Bonapart in its usual place, the keys hung on the wall.
The Chief turned to Britain.
"They're gone, and Bonapart is still here. A whole two days that
they're off duty. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked.
Britain nodded.
"A whole two days that we won't get any damage claims," the tank
police commander answered.
"I think my guts are feeling a bit better." They turned, and went
back into the Tank Police HQ office.
"Oh Captain Britain! Where are you! The chief wants you to do
some more reports!" Britain sighed, and walked in, ready to face a
terror nearly as horrible as Al and Leona: Sophie, with a stack of
reports to be filled in.
Leona laughed as she turned sharply, down an empty road, and
gunned the engine. The bike was superbly tuned, responding to the
slightest twist of the throttle with a roar of power.
"Oh no you don't!" she heard Al shout, and looked to her side to
see him coming up even with her, grinning. They flew down the road,
half racing each other.
"Better keep your eyes on the road, Al!" she said, nodding ahead
of them. The right lane ended suddenly, in a small ramp. Al had just
enough time to gape before hitting it. He and his bike hit the ramp,
and flew up. Al leaned back a little, pulling the front wheel up. He
landed on his back tire, rode with the front a good four feet off the
ground for a few moments, and then leaned forward to end the wheelie.
Leona whistled, impressed in spite of herself. It had taken her months
just to learn how to land if she were to hit a ramp. She'd never have
been able to pull off something like that.
"So, where do you want to go for dinner?"
Anna Puma stuck her head around the corner a moment, frowning
after the rapidly disappearing bikes. She could have sworn that she had
seen Al and Leona on those bikes. And Al had pulled one hell of a good
stunt with that ramp, too.
But that couldn't be right. Leona was never far away from that
blasted mini-tank of hers, and Al not far behind her. That sorry sap,
anybody with half a brain could see that he had enough of a crush on her
to choke even the greatest romance writer. Anna rubbed her back, where
a piece of wall that had been shot off by Leona had smacked into her, as
she was shaking off the police woman. She looked at her watch.
"Two hours, and then I have to meet Uni. I guess that I have
enough time to see what's up." She turned, hopped onto her bike, and
sped after them.
<CRACKLE> 411 in progress at the corner of Loas and Tam. Four
terrorists spotted, with a possible fifth and sixth in building. SWAT
teams enroute, squad cars under heavy fire. Request presence of a Tank,
over. <CRACKLE>
The chief put down the handset as the radio request rolled in. Sighing,
he entered the office.
"BRITAIN!" he shouted over the din. The tank commander looked at
him from over a pile of papers.
"Yes sir, what's up?"
"I want you to take your tank and crew to the corner of Loas and
Tam. Sounds like they're under some heavy fire. Stun ammo only."
Britain stood, and moved to the garage, grabbing Chaplain and Nam on his
way. The Chief sighed, as his guts rumbled ominously.
"Why is it always me? Well, at least Al and Leona won't be around
to demolish half the city." He turned, and entered his office,
grumbling about liversalts.
"DUCK AND COVER!" shouted the SWAT commander, as one of the
terrorists lobbed a grenade toward them. It fell well short of the
position they had taken, but it was still closer than the last one.
"Where the hell is that damn tank!" As he was about to rise, he felt a
familiar rumbling in the street. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the
command tank, complete with Britain half out of the turret, rumbling
toward him.
"Heard you boys needed some help changing your diaper!" called
Britain. In spite of himself, the commander grinned.
"Naw, we just thought you might want to help us clean out some
trash. That's all those oversized tractors are good for anyway."
Britain laughed back, pulling the tank up to a stop. He and the tank
commander had been friends for years, and he was the only one on the
force that could get away with insulting the tanks.
"What's the situation?" asked Britain. The SWAT commander pointed
at the building, a large pharmaceutical lab.
"Three outside, four in. One damn good sniper at a window, but
from this position we're clear. Heavy weapons, napalm, rockets,
grenades, and one of my men said they thought they saw a power armor in
there.
"Sounds like some pretty heavy shit. Any ideas?"
"I was thinking you launch some smoke, and fire a couple dummy
shots while we move in from the side." He hit the ground as one of his
men shouted grenade, and saw it land about a foot before the tank. It
exploded, and, when the smoke cleared, there wasn't a mark on the
plastic. "Always knew you boys got the better toys!" he said, as he
jerked his thumb toward one of his APC's, now just a shattered bulk.
"What, you think they'd waste good money on the SWAT? I always
thought you guys said you didn't need flack jackets cause you were such
hard asses." The SWAT commander grinned, but a little sadly, and
pointed at the street not far from him.
"That's what they thought." Six of his men were laid on the
ground with their coats over their faces. Two were missing the bottom
half of their body, and another was a hole-riddled mess. Britain
frowned.
"Man, I'm sorry. Didn't realize. Ok, what do you say we get this
show on the road?" The SWAT commander nodded, and shouted out orders.
His men pulled back, and opened a corridor for the tank, ten of his men
slipping down the alley and around to the side. Britain climbed into
his tank, and closed the hatch, and the behemoth rumbled forward. As it
passed his position, a barrage of smoke bombs fired forward, flying a
few yards, and then spewing smoke. He heard the blast of the tank's
cannon, and then ran after his men, to lead them in.
He moved around the corner, and stopped, horrified. The alleyway
was a red mess, the bodies of his team strewn over the ground, sliced up
into halves and thirds, blood everywhere. A bright light flashed on
before him, into his eyes, blinding him, and he had just enough time to
throw up his hands before a blast of light lanced out at him and through
him. He saw three pulsating red lights for a moment, and then fell
where he stood, the life leaving his eyes.
"What the hell is going on here?" asked Britain, to nobody in
particular. They had passed though the smoke cover, and were now in
plain sight, but no shots were coming at the tank. The building seemed
to be empty, and the truck that the terrorists should have been in was
gone. "Slow to minimum speed, I don't like this." Chaplain did so, the
tank slowing to a bare crawl. "Nam, are you picking anything up on
scanners?" The veteran of the second Vietnam War shook his head.
"Not a thing, Cap'n. I don't even think there's a flea out
there." Britain scratched his head.
"There's no way they could have cleared out before we saw them.
Where the bloody devil are they?" The tank continued on for another
couple of feet, and then shuddered, as if from a heavy impact. "Full
reverse, back into the smoke! Where the hell are they firing from!"
The tank was jolted again, and this time there was a visible dent inside
the cockpit. "This is Britain to Tank HQ, get your asses down to Loas
and Tam! We got a situation down here!"
There was a straining of metal, and then the tank began to lift
upward. "What the hell!" shouted Britain. The tank kept going up,
until it reached a fully vertical position, then fell back, to land
upside down. Britain groaned as his head made solid contact with the
top of the hatch, and then all was black.
"When did you find this place?" asked Al. Leona grinned. They
were in a small dinner, loaded with dozens of pictures of old tanks,
shells, they even had an old American Sherman tank in the front lot. It
was called the Iron Tank.
"My mom used to bring me here after school once a month for lunch.
I haven't been here in the longest time," she said, taking a drink of
her Neo-Coke. Al just couldn't figure it. Leona had to be the only
person he knew that could stand the stuff. It tasted like motor oil.
They had stopped there to get dinner, and were on their way up to
the hills outside of Newport City.
"It's a nice place. I'll have to remember it." Leona grinned, as
they finished up. Al tossed a ten on the table, more than enough to pay
for the meal, and they stood, going back out. Neither noticed the
person in the long trench coat that got up and followed them.
"They're heading right toward my meeting place with Uni," giggled
Anna to herself. She dumped off the coat on the guy she'd knocked out
for it, and got back on her bike.
"I think that if I see too much more romance between those two,
I'll be sick. Gah!" She twisted the handle, keeping herself in view of
the two motorbikes.
"Come on let's go! Move move move!" The Chief stuck his head out
the door of his office as the Tank HQ exploded into activity.
"What the hell is going on, Specs?" he asked, collaring the
egghead of the squad. Specs looked at him through his coke bottle
glasses.
"Captain Britain radioed in that he needed help at Loas and Tam,
and then we lost all radio contact with his tank. He ordered all tanks
to get down there." The Chief's face grew more and more purple by the
moment.
"That idiot! He probably got a dent in his tank. I swear, he's
almost as bad as Leona some days. Alright, move out, but I want reports
every fifteen minutes." Specs nodded, and went back to shouting orders.
The Chief sighed, and, not for the first time, wondered if he could have
his guts removed and still live. He went into his office, and punched
the speed dial for the mayor's office. As much of a dolt Britain may
be, he usually didn't call in the entire Tank Squad without okaying it
with him first unless it was really important. No, when he wanted the
Tank Police to mobilize without his command, Britain just locked him
into some closet.
"Madam Mayor, we may have a problem."
Uni Puma tapped her foot impatiently, wondering where her "sister"
was. They had been split up by Leona that morning, and now she was
thirty minutes late to meet up. She jumped as Anna tapped her on the
shoulder, screaming before she realized who it was.
"Why are you so late? Have to stop at the little kitties box?"
Anna smiled.
"Better, I've been following Al and Leona." Uni felt her systems
register shock.
"Say that again? I could have sworn you said you've been
following Al and Leona." Anna nodded. "ARE YOU INSANE!" Anna grinned
again
"Are you kidding? Those two wouldn't have seen me if I had of
strutted around naked in front of them, and then offered to give them
both a private show! The only thing they were paying attention to were
each other." Uni's frown slowly turned into a grin.
"About time those two got around to having a date."
"I could still pick up the trail if we were to hurry up. You'd
enjoy seeing those two mooning over each other, it's so funny!" Uni
nodded, and they got back on their bikes.
"We're nearly to Loas and Tam. I can't really tell, but it looks
like there's been a fair battle. Smoke dispersal, chemical make-up
matches standard Tank Police format. I..." Specs cut off as his tank
rounded the corner. What it revealed was a scene right out of madman's
nightmare. Halves of men's bodies were tossed about the intersection,
with blood splatters everywhere. Pieces of bodies were randomly
scattered around too, one causing a slight bump as his tank rolled over
it. And in the middle of the nightmare was Britain's tank, laying
upside down. "Form up a defensive circle right now! I want full ammo
locked and loaded by the time I'm done with this sentence. Full combat
alert. If a cat so much as sneezes, fire on it. Go! Go! GO!"
"<CRACKLE> What's going on Specs, you cut off in the middle of a
report. Specs, respond! Goddamn it ANSWER ME! <CRACKLE>" came the
Chief's voice, tiny through the radio. "<CRACKLE> I could have sworn I
heard you say full ammo load! Stand down, damn it! Answer me!
<CRACKLE>" Specs picked up the radio, opened his mouth to speak,
couldn't, swallowed a couple of times to get his throat moist, and tried
again.
"Chief, you better get some paramedic teams and a crane down here
right away. This is a nightmare down here. Bodies are everywhere,
parts thrown, blood is giving the street a fresh coat of paint.
Britain's tank is sitting on its turret. We've had no response from
outside hails, I'm going to try to get in there." He paused. "This is
bad, Chief. It looks like these guys have been three times through a
blender on puree."
"<CRACKLE> Message understood, paramedics and crane on its way.
Keep frosty, I'm sending backup. Over and out. <CRACKLE>"
"Sir! We've found the Chaplain and Nam!" Specs got out of his
tank, and ran over to where the officer had called from. Nam and
Chaplain were propped up against the wall. Chaplain was out cold, and
Nam was panting heavily.
"What happened, Nam?" Specs asked quietly. The war vet looked at
him, but kept his eyes squeezed shut.
"Man, I don't know. We're moving along, giving cover for the
SWAT, get through the smoke cover, and nothing's there. Britain orders
a minimal speed, and outta nowhere this blast comes. He orders a
retreat, calls you, and then another blast comes, this one leaving a
dent into the cockpit. Then the tank was lifted up, until it toppled
over backwards. I crawled out, pulled Chaplain with me. Couldn't get
to Britain. Trapped. Man, I thought I had seen it all in Vietnam Two.
But this... Nam II was a goddamn day at the beach."
Leona swung off her bike, taking a deep breathful of the air, and
coughed. The air here was actually clean, and she wasn't used to it.
She looked out to New Port City. The setting sun sparkled off the bay,
giving the town a near-ethereal quality, as if it were on the verge of
disappearing. Al came up behind her.
"It's a beautiful view, no?" he asked. Leona turned to him,
smiling.
"Yeah, it is. You can't see all the crime from up here. Instead
of New Port City, terrorist capital of the world, it looks like New Port
City, home. I wonder how many others would see it the same." She
frowned a moment. Al's look became one of concern.
"What is it, Leona? What's wrong?" Leona turned away from him,
looking out over the city again. How to say that it was him? After all
that he had been through because of her. Risking his job to help her
build the original Bonapart what seemed like ages ago. Coming after her
when Buaku had taken her hostage. Jumping between her and Kareoka as
the man fired his gun. She tried to force back the tears she felt
forming, but to no success. She jumped slightly when she felt Al's hand
on her shoulder.
"If... If you want to go back, Leona, we can," he said softly.
"I'll understand." That broke the dam inside of her. She turned, and
grabbed onto him, quietly sobbing onto his shoulder. For a moment, he
stiffened, surprised, and then, slowly, as if he was afraid that she'd
bolt like some scared wild animal, he placed a hand on her back, and the
other softly onto her hair, smoothing over it. He just held her, while
she cried herself out.
All of the events of the past few months were poured into it.
Charon being murdered, getting caught in that super-truck, Mayor
Weatherbea nearly being killed, and, most of all, Al being shot
protecting her. They all compressed themselves into one big lump that
she eliminated one tear at a time.
Finally, the flow of tears slowed, and then stopped, but Leona
stayed as she was, enjoying the closeness, the feeling of... She wanted
to say security, but that wasn't quite the right word.
Eventually, though, she pushed back a little, looking at him through red
rimmed eyes. He was looking at her with such a caring expression that
it brought a flush to her face, and she dropped her gaze.
"Al, I..." She stopped, gripped what courage she had, and started
again. "I haven't really had the chance to thank you for saving my
life. I..." She trailed off. -Oh, hell with it!- Before she could
change her mind, she moved forward and kissed him. She felt him lean
back, surprised, and put her arms around his neck, to hold him there.
Gradually, he stopped, and began to return the kiss. After what seemed
to be a lifetime, they broke the embrace, a little breathless.
"Leona..." She laid two fingers over his mouth, with a small
smile.
"I know. You don't have to say it, I feel the same way." They
embraced again, and, arms still entwined, began to sink slowly to the
ground.
Uni Puma looked over the ridge that she and her sister were hidden
behind as a particularly loud moan drifted toward them.
"Would you believe that! Look at them go!" exclaimed Anna.
"You'd think that they'd at least have the decency to go somewhere
indoors," replied Uni. She turned to her sister. "I told you that it'd
be fun following them," she said, sliding down the little rise to where
they had left their bikes.
"You suppose we could ever get someone like that?"
"We'd have to knock him out and then tie him hand and foot till we
brought him around to our way of thinking. Suppose that he'd survive
it?"
"I doubt it." They giggled, and climbed onto their bikes, leaving
the two lovers in peace.
"Easy now! Easy!" shouted Specs. Britain's tank groaned as the
crane strained under its weight. The tank commander was laid out on the
roadside, in one of the few blood free zones. A huge hole just under
the turret marked where they had cut him out.
The commander had a lump the size of a fist on his head, but the
paramedic had said that he'd be just fine. Heavy duty cleaners had been
dispatched, and were starting to make a dent in the blood stains.
Chaplain and Nam had both been sent to First Medical, to be treated for
shock and minor head wounds, but the doctor that had accompanied them
had said they'd probably be out in time for dinner.
The death toll was staggering. An entire squad of S.W.A.T. had
been butchered, and there was no trace of what had done it.
CRASH!
Specs jumped nearly a foot into the air as Britain's tank landed
right side up, shaking the ground.
"Damn it, I said careful with that! Any damage is coming out of
your pay!" The crane operator cringed visibly.
"MY TANK!!!" This time Specs was sure that he had set the world
record for standing vertical jump. Britain was standing in front of his
tank, gaping at the hole that had gotten him out.
"Sir! You're awake!" Britain turned to Specs, a dangerous look
in his eye.
"Hello, Specs. Who cut a hole in my tank?" Specs grinned weakly.
"Um... The wielders?"
"Give me another name. Yours."
"Um... Specs?"
"That's what I thought. Explain to me exactly why you cut a hole
in my tank." He looked around at the carnage. "And what in the hell
happened here?"
"Sir, we don't know. When we arrived, Nam and Chaplain were up
against a wall, and you were trapped in your tank, which was sitting
upside down."
"Has the chief been notified?" Specs nodded. "Alright, I want a
theory by the time I get to the garage. I'm going to the Mayor's. The
chief is probably already there." Specs nodded, and Britain walked over
to his tank. "Oh, and Specs? The repair cost for my tank is coming out
of your pay."
Specs sighed. How had he known that would happen? The tank
growled a couple of times, and then started, and Britain rolled out,
ignoring the strange looks people gave him through the hole as he went
by.
In a darkened office, a gentleman in a black suit pressed a button
on his telephone. It rang once, and then was picked up.
"It would seem that the UC-3a test went well," he said.
"Casualties?"
"One full S.W.A.T. squad, and the tank police suffered heavy
damage to their command tank."
"And you were absolutely certain that you didn't cause any direct
injuries to the tank officers?"
"Yes sir. It is my understanding that all three of the officers
sustained minor head injuries when we flipped the tank, but there was no
direct contact with the officers."
"Good. And our strike team found the chemicals?"
"Yes?
"Excellent. Begin part 2 of the plan." The videophone clicked
off, and the man pressed a button inset on his desk.
"Execute operation Block Buster."
"Alright, Specs. What do you have for me?" asked Britain.
"Well sir, my best guess is one of the spider tanks."
"WHAT!" shouted the Chief.
"That's all that I can think of that could do so much damage in so
little time. But there are two things that don't fit. The first was
the killing. Even the first three together only had a total death count
of eight. The second is Britain's tank. From out analysis of the scrap
from the spider tanks, they didn't have nearly enough strength to flip a
tank."
"A new model, then? And made by who? Dainippon Giken was put out
of business."
"I don't know. I'm having one of the men check into who bought up
the parts."
"Good. In the meantime, I want you to be on the lookout while on
patrol." Specs turned to leave. Britain and the chief looked at each
other, sighing. "And send somebody to find Al and Leona. I want them
where we can see them."
"It was nice while it lasted," said the Chief, pulling a bottle of
antacid out of his desk.
"Yes sir, it was."
Al sat quietly, watching Leona, who was still asleep under the
blanket he'd pulled out of his bike. A day ago, never in his wildest
dreams would he have imagined what had happened last night might happen.
God, until she had kissed him, he never would have thought of it, and
even then, he wouldn't have believed it.
Now, suddenly, with the sun rising behind them, making it seem as
though Leona was bathed in gold, he couldn't imagine a future without
her, no matter how hard he tried. And he didn't want to.
A deep inhale brought him back to the present Leona was
stretching out under the blanket. She sat up, blinking, looking around.
A shiver ran though his body as his mind flashed back to the night
before, her above him, breasts heaving, crying out in pleasure.
"Morning, sleepy," he called, startling her. She turned to look
at him, smiling, and his heart tried to do a backflip. -She's so
beautiful...-
"Al... Good morning." She stood, the sun washing over her nude
form, giving her body the illusion of giving off its own light. Al
resisted a strong urge to try for a repeat of the previous night.
"We should probably start heading back," he said, standing, and
moving to her. He brushed the back of his hand along her cheekbone.
She pressed slightly into the light caress.
"Yeah, I suppose. We have plans to make."
"And I have a ring to buy."
Ten minutes later, they roared back toward New Port City, the twin
bikes flying down the road as it trying to keep pace with their rider's
hearts. They pulled into the Iron Tank, and ordered breakfast.
SHAAA-BOOM! Al and Leona hit the floor at the same time as an explosion
rocked the diner.
"What was that!" shouted Al. They looked at each other, and then
poked their heads over the seats that they had just been sitting in. In
the street, some sort of machine was wreaking havoc. It looked a lot
like the spider tanks, but this was bigger, and it moved slower by a
bit. It also had a pair of long, articulated arms, with claws on the
end of each. With these claws, it picked up cars and other things,
flinging them about.
"I don't believe it!" whispered Leona. "Another one! But who
made it?" she asked.
"Better question is, what can we do?" The crawled across to the
counter, and flashed their police ID's to the clerk.
"Give us your phone!"
"Sir! We found out who bought the Dainippon Giken Weapons R&D!"
Britain looked at the junior officer.
"Well, don't just stand there, spit it out!" The officer cringed.
Britain's occasional rages were the stuff of legend in the Police HQ.
"Yes, sir, the Rockefeller Corp, based in the U.S."
"Rockefeller Corp? They were second only to Dainippon Giken."
"Commander Britain! We've got an emergency call on line three!"
called the Chaplain.
"So? We've always got an emergency call on line three!" he said,
taking a drink of coffee.
"You don't understand, sir, its Al and Leona!" Britain coughed,
spraying coffee all over the junior officer.
"Why didn't you say so in the first place! Put 'em on speaker!"
"Captain! Are you there?" came Al's voice.
"Yes! Where the heck have you and Leona been? We've been trying
to find you for hours! I want you back here at Tank HQ on the double.
We've got-"
"A new spider tank on the loose?"
"A new spider... Hey, how did you know?!?"
"Because, we're staring at it right now!"
"WHAT!"
"Look, all that I can say is that right now, it's in the process
of demolishing the city, and it's making very short work of it! We're
at Moldiver and Jurai!"
"You all heard him! MOVE OUT!" The Tank HQ exploded into
activity. Britain rapped on the Chief's door. When he didn't answer,
Britain stuck his head into the office. The Chief had his head in his
hands. "Uh, sir..."
"Don't bother, I'll lock myself into the closet. Get moving."
"Thank you, sir."
"BAH!"
Anna and Uni Puma screamed in unison as part of the building that
they were in front of exploded, showering them in small rubble.
"Why is it always us!"
"Sometimes I think that we were safer in the strip club, serving
all those fat old men." The twins looked at each other.
"Nah!"
"I feel so useless here!" said Leona, as another blast shook the
building.
"You and me both, Leona. Think Britain will bring Bonapart?"
Leona stared at him, and Al shrank back a bit.
"If that dolt even thinks about touching our tank, I'll rip him in
two." Al sighed.
"Some things never change, I guess." They started as the floor
started to rumble, and then looked over the seats. The entire tank
squad was rolling down the street, and, even as they watched, began
firing at the spider tank. It looked like several of the shots were
direct hits, but, when the smoke cleared, there wasn't a mark on the
armor.
"It can't be! Those shots didn't even faze it!" exclaimed Leona.
The spider tank turned, and fired a salvo of mini missiles at the tanks.
Most missed, but one hit a tank dead center. The crew bailed out just
as it exploded, taking the tank up with it.
"Damn it! They'll be cut into swiss cheese!" said Leona, slapping
her fist into the palm of her hand.
"I know, I know," answered Al, looking around. Suddenly, his gaze
settled on the old Sherman Tank. It had to be nearly 200 years old...
but maybe... He looked around the restaurant. "Leona... All these old
shells... They look like Armor Pierces... Do you suppose any of them
are still good?" Leona looked around, then at the tank, then at him.
"You can't be serious." Al looked at her, grinning.
"Never more serious in my life."
Britain was shouting orders in his tank.
"Spread out, don't sit in one place! Let's not make this any
easier for it than we have to!" His tank shook as the one next to him
exploded in a ball of fire. "That thing is eating us alive!"
"Yeah, no kiddin', Cap'n!" answered Nam, as he fired yet another
blast at the spider tank.
"Chaplain, get on the horn. Tell the Chief that he'd better call
out the army. I don't think we've got enough firepower here." Oh, how
it rankled him to admit that!
"Yes sir!"
"Specs, what's the analysis?" The radio crackled as he answered.
"I'm showing a blank! It's like the thing is jamming my scans!"
Britain growled as he hung up the radio.
"DAMN IT!"
FWOP! Britain looked around. "What the heck?" Light suddenly
blossomed before them. When they blinked it away, a hole had been
punched through one of the arms of the spider tank.
"Would you look at that! Captain, you're never gonna believe
this, but there's a Sherman Tank coming up on our right! And it's
firing on the spider tank!" exclaimed Chaplain.
Britain opened the hatch, and looked over. Half out of the oldest
tank he had ever seen was... Leona?!? She waved, and then ducked into
her tank, closing the hatch.
"I can hardly believe we even got this old rust bucket going!" Al
grinned.
"Just be glad that my motor bike engine was light enough for us to
move, and strong enough to push this thing!"
"Right! Fire!" The tank shuddered as the launched another shell,
this time taking out a shoulder on the spider tank. It lurched as it
fought to rebalance itself.
The tank squad was falling in behind them, firing with her. The
spider tank was heavily damaged now. Suddenly, a pod ejected from its
back, and several large red lights began to flash on its underside.
Even in the tank, they could clearly hear a mechanical voice counting
down.
"Um, Al? I think we should leave. Like, now?" Al nodded, but
even as he started to turn, the motor bike engine sputtered, and died.
They looked at each other, and started trying to open the hatch, but it
was stuck. The rest of the tank police cleared out, leaving them alone
in the street. They started at each other.
"Who knew it'd end like this?" asked Leona. Al folded his arms
around her.
"At least we'll... go out with a bang." They looked into each
other's eyes.
"I love you."
Britain did a scan of the surviving tanks. Less than half of his
force was there.
"Wait a minute... Where are Al and Leona?" Chaplain and name
looked at each other.
"They were right behind us."
"Oh shit! That old clunker must have given out on them! We gotta
get back there, now! Move it!" Before they had the chance to start,
though, they felt a rumble in the street, and heard a sort of roar.
They both grew in intensity, and then, suddenly, a huge ball of flame
erupted over the city skyline. Britain put his hand up to shield his
eyes from the glare. Slowly, it began to dissipate.
"My God..." breathed Chaplain. The rumbling stopped, and the roar
died down, leaving everything in a strangely eerie silent stillness.
"Alright, I want a ten point search, no stone unturned, until we
find Al and Leona! Go!" His orders did not leave room for Al and Leona
not being alright.
"AL!"
"LEONA!"
"COME ON, SPEAK UP YOU TWO!"
"AL! LEONA!"
"Hey! Over here! I think I found something!"
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Leona opened her eyes slowly, and looked over to her right. Al
was laid on a bed, tubes and IV's leading into his arm, but he was
awake. He grinned, and waved weakly. Leona waved back, and closed her
eyes, going back to sleep.
"Well, it looks like what we blew up was just a test model," said
Britain. Mayor Weatherbea sighed.
"Even though the bill we passed bans new weapons and transport, it
is only effective here in New Port." She rubbed her temples. The chief
was about to speak, when the door to his office banged open.
Al and Leona wheeled themselves in, confined to wheelchairs by the
doctors because they wanted to make sure that the two officers wouldn't
suffer any long term injuries from being tossed about inside the tank.
"Some good news at last," said the Mayor, standing and smiling.
"Officers Al and Leona reporting, as ordered."
"You had us all worried here, for a little bit," said Britain.
"I'll give it to those Americans. They sure knew how to build a tank.
Aside from some minor scoring, that Sherman didn't even have a dent."
Leona looked at Al.
"It was Al's idea, sir. He's the one that thought of the old
tank, and the one that put the engine on it. If anybody deserves credit
for it, it's Al." For his part, he blushed a little.
"Well, I saw it, and thought... well, why not?" Britain laughed
aloud.
"I think that I might have some competition for my job, chief."
The Chief looked at him soberly, and Mayor Weatherbea cleared her
throat.
"Actually, that's why we called them down here. They will be
replacing you as the Tank Squad Commanders." Britain's laughter cut off
like a spigot.
"Say that again, sir?"
"I said, they are replacing you."
"WHAT!" Mayor Weatherbea couldn't take it anymore. She laughed
aloud. Britain stared at her. Al and Leona joined in, and then the
Chief, leaving Britain staring around himself at them.
"I'm sorry, Charles," the Chief said finally. "That's what you
get for locking me into the closet." Britain rolled his eyes skyward.
"You never had me fooled for one bloody moment!" They all started
laughing again.
"You didn't! I knew it all along!"
"Sir, I have bad news. It seems that the UC-3a was destroyed in
combat."
"What! Its armor should have been absolutely invincible to the
Tank Police's weaponry."
"And in that part of the test, it did excel. But the pilot
reported that it wasn't the tank police that did the main damage."
"What?"
"Sir it was... It was a Sherman Tank." There was silence on the
phone.
"You are telling me that a tank that hasn't been made in well over
one hundred and eighty years destroyed the UC-3a."
"Yes... Yes sir."
"I see. At this point, I believe that we will cut our losses and
drop the Urban Combat series."
"But sir! The series is so promising! I'm sure that-"
"I SAID WE ARE DROPPING IT! If a tank that is nearly two hundred
years old can destroy it, than what good is it?"
The line went dead.
Epilogue
"And so, the Lord did say, 'This action shall I always hold holy,
and pure. This union of two souls can be nothing else.'" The tank
police squadron stood silently, proud in stark dress whites. Captain
Britain stood to the side of the dais, in a slightly rumpled white suit,
Nam next to him. Mayor Weatherbea and the Chief stood in the front row
of the assembled Tank Police, almost looking like a grandfather next to
his granddaughter. High above, at a garage skylight, Anna and Uni Puma
looked down on the whole affair. The Chaplain stood with his back to
Bonapart, which had ribbons, and roses attached to it.
Al and Leona stood before Chaplain, Al in a white tux, and Leona
in a long, flowing white gown.
"Al, do you take this woman, to have and to hold, to protect and
to cherish, till death do you part?"
"I do."
"Leona, do you take this man, to have and to hold, to protect and
to cherish, till death do you part?"
"I do." The Chaplain smiled.
"Then, by the power vested in me by the church of God, I pronounce
you Husband, and Wife. You may kiss the bride."
Al and Leona turned to each other. Al lifted the veil, and they
kissed. A thunderous applause went up in the garage, as the Tank Police
began to clap and sound cat calls. Britain sniffled.
"So, a wedding even gets to you, eh, Cap'n?" asked Nam, grinning.
"No," he answered. "Now there's no way I'll ever get those two
apart. I'll be buried in reports until I'm old and gray!"
Al and Leona climbed into Bonapart.
"We'll be back in two weeks." The mini-tank started up, Leona
waved, and then they zoomed off. Britain scratched his head.
"Why do I feel like I've forgotten something?"
"Hey Captain! I need to do inventory, but I can't find Bonapart's
ammo box!" shouted Specs. Britain stared after the rapidly disappearing
Bonapart.
"I know, I forgot to disarm Bonapart."
"You WHAT!" shouted the Chief. The full import of what he had
just said sank in. Britain blanched.
"Tank Police, roll out! Bonapart is fully loaded!"
After the dust settled, the Chief turned to Mayor Weatherbea. She
was tapping her foot, looking at him.
"You know, I think they may have just set a record for mobilizing
and moving out."
-----
The Platinum Dragon
"You're supposed to stay in your seat until the plane reaches the terminal.
No frequent flier miles for you!" - John McClane, Die Harder
Proud Member of the Ryoko Forever Fan Club