True Love
By
Jeanne Hedge
Disclaimers
- Bubblegum Crisis and its characters belong to
Artmic, Sonoda Kenichi, AIC and Youmex. No copyright infringement was intended.
Background
- "True Love" is
my attempt at providing an explanation for some of the many unexplained
mysteries of the Bubblegum Universe, particularly why Priss's voice changed,
what happened to the Replicants, and how come Nene got so aggressive. I was also attempting to show the members of
the Knight Sabers in a slightly different light than we usually see them
in. Stalkers are, unfortunately, a
real-life problem, and you can find mention of celebrity stalkers in the news
almost every day. Unlike many women,
the Knight Sabers are in a position to do something about it.
Thanks to everyone who took the time to
read and comment on this story while I was writing it. Special thanks are owed to Marco De la Cruz
(for 'Creative Endings 101'), Hitomi Ichinohei (for instruction on the Japanese
penal system), "Innpchan" (for the nightmares), Charles
Lewis (for the club & trauma scenes,
and for the generally well deserved beatings about the head and shoulders to
get the revisions started), Andy Skuse (for the record industry, and for the continual
prodding to get the revisions _finished_), and Bert Van Vliet (for the
angsting and the editing - not a
mutually exclusive process), without whose help and encouragement this story
would not have been written.
Feedback
- You can write me with comments and suggestions at jhedge@water.waterw.com
I love
the way she moves.
I love the way she looks.
I love the way she gives her total
concentration to whatever she
does.
I love the way she smells.
I love the sound of her voice, a siren's
song that pulled me from the
abyss.
I love her.
She is wonderful.
Tokyo,
Japan
January,
2034
"Did you have any trouble getting
away from the Raven?"
"No, we're off tonight. But, like I
was telling you, we're stuck there for another week. And that club is _really_ strange."
"Oh? How so?" The two young women who stepped onto the elevator
in the basement of the Lady 633 building began their ride companionably enough.
But by the time they arrived at their
destination,
one was irritated, while her dark haired frend was attempting to hide her
snickers behind a concealing hand.
As the doors opened, the conclusion of the one's litany of grievances
rang out
loudly,
easily heard inside their mutual destination, the penthouse apartment.
"...AND Janette's impossible to
understand. Have you ever tried to decipher Japanese spoken with a French
accent?"
"Are you on about _that_
again?" a short, redheaded young woman snickered as she opened the
apartment's door. "We could hear you yelling from the basement! Give it up
already, Priss."
"Yeah, I'll never be able to hear
again," Linna said, as she stepped through the door and bent to remove her
shoes. "Look, if it's so bad there
why don't you just quit?"
"Yeah, what do you think this
is? Some plot by the owner of Hot Legs
to make you miserable so you'll go back so he can fire you again?" Nene
mocked.
A fourth young woman joined them, smiling.
"I told you the other day, Priss, there's nothing unusual about that club.
I checked. I really do think you're making something out of nothing..."
"Aw, Sylia, not you too?!"
Priss groaned.
"Why are you so paranoid all of a
sudden?"
"Oh, shut up Linna. And I am _not_ paranoid!" Priss
grumbled back. Her friends continued to tease her as they moved to the living
room.
Sylia sat down in her lounger, an amused
expression on her face as she watched her friends carry on.
In late 2030, Sylia Stingray, then 20
years old, founded the Knight Sabers. She had recruited and trained three
carefully selected teenagers, Linna Yamazaki, Priss Asagiri, and Nene Romanova,
to be her weapons in her personal vendetta against the Genom Corporation. Now,
after almost three years of extensive activity, the group's anti-Genom focus
had mellowed somewhat. While their primary goal remained that of countering the
mega-conglomerate's excesses, they had evolved into an elite mercenary force,
available to almost anyone for the right price.
They had also grown to be a closely knit
group, in some ways closer than family. One of the charter rules of the Knight
Sabers, that the members do not know each other on the outside, had quickly
fallen by the wayside when Nene, Linna, and Priss began hanging around
with each
other. That it had happened wasn't
surprising considering the nature of the jobs they took, and that half the
group _had_ no living family.
Of course, whenever she brought up the
fact that there were excellent security reasons behind that particular rule,
one of the others invariably asked her which rule was more important: not
knowing each other on the outside or keeping in contact with the other members
regularly.
To which Priss inevitably added with a grin that if she was going to be
executed for violating the rules, she'd like to know which rule it was she was
dying for.
"I _said_, 'don't you agree,
Sylia?'!"
Sylia jerked from her reverie. A quick
look around showed she was the center of attention. "I'm sorry, Linna, you
caught me daydreaming."
"Some daydream. You were really out
there," Priss grinned at her leader.
"He must be really cute! Do we know
him?"
"Nene, really," Sylia frowned,
embarrassed to have been caught in such a state. "What were you saying
Linna?"
"Just wondering when we were going
to get started with this. I've got an appointment for later this evening."
"Appointment, huh?" Priss
teased. "Blonde, brunette, or redhead?"
"Hush, you, or I'll make you go back
to the Raven."
"Ladies, please," Sylia
interjected, before things could escalate further. "Linna has a point. The
sooner we get started, the sooner we can be about our business."
The trio took their seats on the couch and
chairs scattered about Sylia's living room.
"Before we get started," she began, "I've an announcement
to make. I need each of you to schedule a time to come in for your physical
measurements to be taken." Nene groaned, and
Linna and
Priss snickered in response.
"What's the problem, Nene? Don't you want your new suit to fit
properly?"
It took a moment for Sylia's words to
sink in. "But Sylia, they were just upgraded!" came the stunned
response.
"Yes, Priss, I know. But you can
only do so much with upgrades. Recent data leads me to believe that it's time
to bring a new generation of suits on-line." Sylia looked at the still
surprised faces around her, and forged ahead. "It will be a few months yet
before they are ready, so don't worry, we'll be getting plenty of use out of
this latest upgrade." She smiled slightly. "If there are any special
modifications you would like from your current suit, see me later."
Priss began to grin in return, picturing more, more powerful weaponry,
while visions of
enhanced
electronics danced in Nene's head. Linna, on the other hand, vowed to have a
chat about making the 'monomolecular' ribbons attached to her helmet
retractable.
"Now that that's out of the way, I'd
like to discuss the real reason I asked you here. 2033 was a difficult year for us, in many ways. We had many
obstacles to overcome, and personally speaking, I think, on the whole, we did
admirably." Sylia had to stop. I am so _very_ proud of each of you, she
thought as she turned her gaze upon her friends, each in turn. Friends she knew
she could never do without again.
And they looked back at her: proud,
confident, strong, with total devotion to each other, and total trust in her,
shining in their eyes. The moment came to an end all too quickly, and, having
regained her composure, Sylia was able to continue in her usual businesslike
tone.
"But, there were also some things we didn't perform quite so
well
at. And since we'd rather repeat the
things that we do well, and improve on the things that we don't do so well, I
think it's time for a performance review."
As good-natured grumbles filled the room,
Sylia dimmed the lights and activated a monitor set into the wall. A series of computer generated images
featuring a blue hardsuit in action against various boomer opponents, filled
the center of the screen. Suit telemetry covered the bottom and right side of
the monitor, while suit-wearer telemetry ran up the left. "OK, now then.
Priss. How many times have we told you _not_ to...."
"Ms. Asagiri? Edward Haskell, Nezumi
Records." The tall, blonde man in the gray suit extended his right hand.
Priss stared at him for a few moments, then went back to her burger.
"Nezumi, huh? Interesting name for a
label," Priss said around a mouthful of food as she stared out the window
next to the booth. "Have a seat. How'd you find me?"
"Followed you from the Raven. You're
a big hit over there." Haskell slid onto the bench seat opposite her.
"Maybe. But tomorrow's the end of
the run. We're opening someplace else next week." She took another bite of
her burger and feigned disinterest in the conversation. Actually, she was paying careful attention
to him, what he had to say, and, most importantly, how he said it.
"I know. Going back to the Legs."
Priss turned back to stare at him. "That hasn't been made public yet. You been checking up on us, Haskell?"
she asked with an edge in her voice.
"Of course. How else am I supposed to decide if you guys
are worth signing?" he replied smoothly.
"The usual way is to listen to the
music, bud," she laughed. She took a sip of her beer, then continued.
"So, you want to sign us, huh?"
"Maybe. What can _you_ do to make it worth my while?"
Priss stared at him, then scooted out of
the booth and stepped across to his side of the table. "Haskell," she began tonelessly as
she looked down at him with disgust, "I think you just lived up to your
label's name."
"Come on, Priss. You're a big girl;
you know how the game is played. Why don't we--"
He never got to finish, as Priss reached
back across the table, grabbed her beer, and dumped it over his head.
"That's not how _I_play the game, asshole."
As she stomped across the room, headed
for the door, she heard Haskell, still sitting at the table, laughing.
"See you at Hot Legs, Priss!"
Priss stepped into the taproom, a
secondary bar at Hot Legs used mainly by those more interested in drinking than
music. She stood at the entrance until her eyes could adjust to the darkness.
Most of the night's crowd had left by the time she had finished her shower and
changed
clothes, so she had little trouble scanning the room. She quickly spotted the
two people who _always_ made it to her opening nights. Over the past couple
years Nene and Linna had become sort of good luck charms for the Replicants. If
they made it to an opening, things went well for the run. If they didn't, for some reason things usually
became a disaster.
Priss stepped over to the bar to collect
a drink, then made her way across the room, nodding to or exchanging a word
with people she knew, ignoring those she didn't.
Nene and Linna, seated at a corner table,
stood to greet her as she approached.
Nene, as usual, was overly enthusiastic in her appraisal of the
performance, Linna only somewhat less so.
Priss smiled to herself as the three sat back down at the table. If she
ever needed an unbiased critique of her musical performance, she knew where
_not_ to go.
Still trying to unwind from the show, Priss closed her eyes and
leaned back into the chair, sighing blissfully. She let Linna and Nene's
discussion of the relative merits of cheesecake versus fruit as a between-meal
snack wash over her. After a few minutes, she had
relaxed
enough to nod off, only to be startled back to wakefulness by a kick in the
leg.
"Hey, are you listening to me?"
"Uhh, whaa?" Priss responded
intelligently. "What is it?"
"Geez, Priss, if you're so tired why
don't you go home?" Linna asked.
"Wish I could. Got a meeting with an A&R guy
later."
"Oh, that's terrific!" Nene
enthused. "Which label?"
"Nezumi Records."
Dead silence. "You're going to sign with 'Rat' Records?" Linna said slowly,
as if she couldn't believe her ears.
"We're not signing with anyone yet,
I'm just meeting with their guy." Priss stifled a yawn.
"Is that him over there?" Nene
asked, nodding in the direction of a booth by the door. "He's been staring at you ever since
you came in here." Priss and Linna both turned to look.
"Him?" Priss studied the
leather-clad man Nene had pointed out from across the room. "Nah, the Rat
guy is tall, blonde, and acts like one."
Their sudden scrutiny seemed to disconcert
the booth's sole
occupant.
He stood, and, after looking about a little wildly, grabbed a paper bag off the
seat and left the bar, exiting back into the main room of the club. Priss and
Linna turned back in their chairs.
"Just another flake, I guess,"
Linna said with a snicker.
"Whatever," Priss replied,
running her fingers through her hair. "Hey, either of you got your
brush? Mine's turned up missing."
"Someone stole your hairbrush?"
Nene asked in disbelief as she dug into the depths of her bag for her own
brush, lending it to Priss.
"Yeah. I think there's a thief following me around or something. I'm
missing lots of little things lately, but it's not like they're worth a lot.
Mainly picks, strings, a t-shirt or two, stuff like that. And now my god damned
hairbrush!" And I just bought it too, she grumped to herself.
"Did you talk to the manager?"
Linna asked.
"No, he won't do anything about
it. I tell you though, when I catch
this guy...."
"What's the world coming to?"
Nene commented.
Outside the club, a man in red leathers
walked swiftly to a line of motorcycles. Working his own machine out of the
bevy of bikes, he made his way to the streetlight illuminating the parking
area. After putting the kickstand down, he leaned back against the seat.
Opening the paper bag he'd been carrying,
he examined its contents, then carefully removed a towel from inside. He held
the towel to his face for several minutes, inhaling the residual scent of its
user. Sated, he folded the still damp towel, replaced it in the bag, and
stowed
the bag in the bike's storage compartment.
That task concluded, he reached into the
pocket of his jacket and removed a hairbrush.
Reaching forward, he adjusted the bike's mirror until he could see his
own reflection, and began to brush his hair.
Priss had a headache. After four meetings
with Haskell, four _loong_ meetings with Haskell, they'd finally gotten to the
point where he brought out a contract. But she had her doubts about the whole
thing.
It wasn't that the sections related to
the contractual obligations of the band for performance and the label for
support were bad. In reality they were perfectly acceptable; she'd hoped to
have been offered better, but could live with this. The problem, as usual, was
with the legal-ese. And the money.
Translation rights, reciprocal
agreements, mechanical reproduction rights, performance rights, synchronization
rights, sheet music....merchandising_ for God's sake. And Nezumi wanted a piece of everything.
No, more than just a piece. They wanted it all.
She was getting heat from the guys to get
the deal done. Hot Legs was fine if you were starting out or had no other place
to go. But it was beyond time for the Reps to have moved on. If they didn't
sign with somebody soon, they ran the risk of becoming old news. Has-
beens. Or
worse, never-weres.
Two band meetings, and a lot of arguing
later, and she was back at the bargaining table. After three hours, she and Haskell had come to an agreement about
most things, but were stuck on something so ridiculous she'd couldn't believe
he was trying to get away with it. In
exchange
for giving the band a percentage of the net for foreign translation of their songs,
Nezumi wanted 100% of the gross profit for merchandising.
Translation rights were chump-change,
unless they hit it huge. Getting a few points of the net meant they'd never see
a penny; the label was always the one that determined if there was a net profit
on anything. Merchandising was going to lead to a tidy sum.
She wasn't going to stand for it.
The guys said take it.
Priss demanded to meet with Haskell's
boss.
CONTINUED
IN PART 2
TRUE LOVE
Part 2
"Aw, no, not tonight!" Priss
groaned as her pager alarm went off. She was due on stage in ten minutes. After
the show she was supposed to meet with Haskell again, and maybe, finally, sign
the contract. And now it looked like all her plans for the night were shot.
How the hell do I get out of this? she
thought as she silenced the alarm. There was no way she could ignore the
call-out. If Sylia found out, she was dead. Maybe literally. She was going to
have to blow off another performance, which wasn't good, and Haskell, which was
worse.
She stuck her head out of the dressing
room, and waved over the bouncer stationed at the back door. "What's up Priss? Aren't you supposed to be going on stage in
a minute?"
"I need a favor, Kenji. I'm not feeling well; it must have been
something I ate." Well, the tako-yaki at dinner _was_ a little off...
"I don't think I can go on tonight."
"Oh, Priss, that's terrible. I know
how you _so_ look forward to playing here," Kenji said sarcastically. "You want me to go get Paul?"
"No. Just tell him I got sick and went home. Have him reschedule the
meeting with that guy, Haskell, for tomorrow. I should be feeling better by
then." The pager went off again, and again Priss, now red-faced,
acknowledged it. Kenji stared at her for a second, then grinned
hugely.
"Uh-huh." He turned and began to walk toward the
backstage area.
"Tell him to tell Haskell I still
want to talk to his boss!" Priss called after him, and he acknowledged her
with a wave as he made his way in search of the Reps bass player to tell him
he'd be singing lead tonight.
***
The demons are trying to tear us apart.
They tempt my love with the pleasures of
the flesh.
They will be warned.
Just this once.
***
"This is Haskell. I need to speak
with the Director. Yes, I know what time it is. ... Look Anya, I know
she's there, now put me through."
Haskell sighed with exasperation as his boss's executive assistant put
him on hold while she went to 'see if the Director is in.'
Dammit,
who is Anya trying to kid? The Director
is always in this time of night.
"Yes, Haskell," came the
throaty voice across the audio-only line. "What do you have for me?"
"Good evening, ma'am. I've just concluded a meeting with members
of "Priss and the Replicants."
They are the group that--"
"Yes, Haskell. The group with the
grubby lead singer who has an overly high opinion of both herself and her
negotiating skills. Continue."
"Yes, ma'am. The group's representative was unable to
attend tonight's meeting due to a sudden illness. I met with other members, who
informed me that the group is more than willing to sign our contract as it
currently stands."
"I see." There was a pause, and
Haskell could picture the Director sitting back in her chair, eyes closed. She tended to do that whenever she was
analyzing information. "Have you checked into those rumors about the
singer?"
"Yes, ma'am. The stories are true:
on several occasions she has left the venue shortly before or during the
performance, claiming to be ill. At other times she has left with no
explanation whatsoever. Additionally, several times in the past she has been
unable to perform
due to
injury. There are no overt signs of the
illnesses being drug or alcohol related, or due to some sort of physical or
psychological problem. The injuries are apparently related to accidents on her
motorcycle."
"And you still think it prudent for
the company to invest in this band?"
"Absolutely, ma'am!" Haskell
responded enthusiastically, finally breaking from his "corporate
report" demeanor. "The musicians are not much more than a talented
garage band, and, of course, the standard changes will be necessary. But the
singer is worth the investment by herself.
Looks, singing, performance... she even writes her own music. When we
match her with better players, she'll be a gold mine."
Another long pause. "I don't think
so, Mr. Haskell."
"Ma'am?" Haskell was stunned.
"Mr. Haskell, we have too many prima
donnas under contract as it is. Prima donnas who are good looking, who can
sing, who can write songs, who can perform, and _who_ _can_ _show_ _up_ _for_
_their_performances_. No, Mr. Haskell. We don't need any more headaches."
"But ma'am!" Haskell
protested. "Surely we can--"
"Mr. Haskell, _that_ _is_
_enough!_" the Director snapped.
Haskell immediately shut up.
"Thank you. Now then, on second thought, I'm willing to
reconsider my position. Is the singer
still asking for me to enter the negotiations?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"When is your next meeting
scheduled?"
"Tomorrow night, after their last
set at Hot Legs."
"That hole? I thought they were playing at the
Raven." The Director shuddered as
she thought of all the time she had put in at Hot Legs when she was
younger. "Very well, Mr. Haskell.
I'm assuming all negotiations with this group, personally. I want all of your files and reports on them
updated, completed, and on my desk in three hours."
"Are you sure, ma'am? You shouldn't waste your valuable time. I
can--"
"Don't worry, Mr. Haskell. When I sign them tomorrow night, and I
_will_ sign them tomorrow night, you'll get your commission. Three hours." She cut the circuit.
Anya stood from where she had been
monitoring the conversation, and walked into the small kitchenette off of the
office. When she emerged again, she was carrying two cups of tea. She set one on the Director's desk, and,
keeping the other cup for herself, returned to her
own desk
at the side of the office. "Ma'am,
are you sure about this? They sound like nothing but trouble to me."
The Director sipped her tea. "When you have been in this business as
long as I have, Anya, you'll learn that you can find a use for everyone. Even
the problem children."
"If I may ask, what use will you put
these 'problem children' to?"
"Our performers already under
contract are getting pushy again. We need an example of what will happen to
them if they inconvenience us."
The Director smiled coldly.
"Miss Priss is going to be my example."
Sylia was awakened by the wail of the
building's security alarm. Her first, reflexive, action was to seal the blast
doors to, and the security doors within, the Knight Sabers complex. Her second action was to get out of bed and
bring the building's live-time security
monitors
on-line. A quick scan of the area
showed that she wasn't under active attack.
A more detailed internal scan proved the building hadn't been
penetrated, to any great extent anyway, and that whatever had triggered the
alarm was gone.
Immediate concerns satisfied, she called
Mackie at Raven's Garage, where he'd planned to work through the night to
complete the preliminary design models for the new suits. Once she'd filled him in, she entered the
command codes to download the last few hours of
surveillance
recordings from the security system. Only then did she take a few moments to
get dressed. That done, she went
downstairs to await the arrival of the police.
"Hey Priss, you in there?" Kenji knocked on the dressing room door
again, a little louder this time.
"Priss!"
After a couple minutes of pounding, a
muffled "All right, just a minute," came floating out of the locked
dressing room. Kenji put his ear to the
door. Thumps. Voices. Male and
female. Yep, they were at it again. He jerked away just as Priss threw the door
open. "This
had
better be good," she growled as she reached over her shoulder to pull her
hair from inside her t-shirt.
Kenji looked into the small room. A full length mirror on the wall opposite
the door showed the reflection of a tall, red-haired man, just out of Kenji's
direct eyesight, trying to pull his pants on over his boots. Priss looked over
her shoulder to see what Kenji was staring at and sighed. She gave him a shove, and moved into the
corridor, closing the door behind her. "What?"
"Sorry to interrupt," he
smirked. Arms crossed over her chest, she glowered at him. "OK, OK, I'm
really sorry, but I've got some messages to give you."
"What?" she repeated.
"Boy, you're nasty when you get
interrupted, you know that?" He winked at her.
"Jesus, Kenji, I wish you wouldn't
do that. It's impossible to stay mad at you," Priss smiled, the absurdity
of the situation finally getting to her. "All right, let's have
them."
"I'm just too irresistible," he
grinned as he handed her an envelope. "Some joker came to the back door a
bit ago. Said you wanted to see him. He wasn't on the list, so I didn't let him
in. Would've gone looking for you, but you'd just retired with loverboy
there."
"Leave it alone," Priss warned.
"Who was it?"
"I don't remember the name,"
Kenji shrugged. "Some guy in red leathers. Seen him around, out in the
crowd, but not in the back before. Seemed like the fanboy type. Anyway, when I
wouldn't let him in, he asked me to give you that envelope. He had a message too; I wrote it on the back
so I wouldn't forget."
Priss glanced down at the scribbled
handwriting: 'Meet me out back -- 11 AM.' "What time is it?"
Kenji glanced at his watch. "Little before 11."
"OK, anything else?"
"Yeah, a phone call a few minutes
ago. Lady said your lingerie is ready, but you have to come get it now if you
want the special price." Kenji
almost leered now. "Picking up something special? Do I get to see
it?"
Priss's heart almost stopped, and her
whole body tensed. That was one of Sylia's priority one code phrases. It wasn't
quite on the level of a crash emergency or a Knight Sabers call-out, but she
had to get over to Sylia's immediately.
"Here, throw this away, will
you?" she said distractedly as she thrust the now crumpled envelope back
into Kenji's hand. Without another word, she turned and went back into the
dressing room, ignoring the man waiting inside, who had, by now, managed to get
his clothes back on. She stopped just
long enough to pull socks and boots on over her bare feet, then grabbed her
jacket, helmet, and gloves, and headed out the door.
"Women," the two men said
simultaneously as they watched her run towards the front of the club.
***
Again, the demons try to interfere with
our love.
One of their minions is close at hand.
Because of him, she did not join with me.
He will intrude no more.
***
"Priss, I want you to leave
town."
"Are you NUTS?! I can't leave now! I'm signing a record
contract tonight! Send Nene or Linna on your errand, I don't have the time for
it."
"This has nothing to do with the
Knight Sabers," Sylia began, a bit hotly, "and if you'd take a minute
to think about it, instead of yelling at me you'd know that too. To refresh
your memory of current events, someone trashed every storefront in the building
last night. Just hours, I might add, after you paid a supposedly secret visit.
And he left a calling card, if finding 'Leave Priss Alone!' spray painted on
your back wall can be considered a calling card."
Priss stared at her, her stubborn
expression showing no sign of slackening.
Sylia decided to try a different tack.
"Look. Someone obviously followed you here last night. He's connected you
to 633, which puts him too close for my taste to connecting you to me. He's
obviously taken a strong interest in you.
I want you out of here, if for nothing else than to cool off his
interest before he makes a connection between you and the Knight Sabers."
Priss's face lost a little of its
mulishness as Sylia's words began to sink in. "What did the police
say?"
"TPD wanted to know if I knew anyone
named 'Priss'. I told them I had two or three customers named Priscilla, but
they didn't press for details." Priss suddenly stood and began to pace
around the room.
"Please, Priss, get out of
town. At least until the police ID this
guy and bring him in. If he's capable
of vandalizing a building over you, who knows what else he could do?"
Priss completed a few more circuits of
the room in silence. "I can't go
anywhere for a couple days, at least," she finally said, placatingly.
"Tonight I do the record deal, tomorrow we finish this run at the Legs,
and I can't bail on that, not after signing with a label." Not with some of the screwy things Haskell
has been trying to get away with. "It'll have to be the day after."
"Right. I'll call Linna--"
"No." Priss finally stopped pacing long enough to grab her things off
the chair she'd dumped them in, and headed for the door. "You haven't said anything to Linna or
Nene about this yet, have you?"
Sylia indicated that she had not. "Then don't involve them now. I'm a big
girl, I can take care of myself, and keep this guy off our backs too."
Assuming you aren't just being paranoid, Sylia.
"Be careful then," Sylia called
as Priss started to leave. "Let me know your travel plans. Maybe I can help."
"Hey, careful is my middle
name!" Priss smiled back at her friend, then left, closing the door behind
her.
"I wish it were," came the
sighed reply.
"Thank you, Asagiri-san," the
woman said as she capped her pen. The freshly signed contracts went into a
manila folder, the folder into her slim-line briefcase, and the briefcase to a
young woman standing behind and beside her chair. "A drink to toast our
new relationship? I am sure this
agreement will be profitable to both of us."
Priss nodded, and the pair drank in
silence. "To _all_ of us. You,
me, the
band, your company."
"As you say. I regret that the terms
of our agreement are not more to your... liking. However, if "Priss and the Replicants" perform well, I
am certain that changes will be considered."
Priss shook her head in disbelief. These
corporate types are all the same: a big pain in the ass, she thought to
herself. And I was stupid enough to think bringing in the boss would help. "All right," she reluctantly
agreed. "But I'm still not happy about it."
"You've made _that_ abundantly clear
to Mr. Haskell. Which is why, despite regular procedure, he asked me to assume
the negotiations directly." She smiled slightly; a shark's smile, with
absolutely no warmth in it. "If
this is so unpalatable to you, perhaps I should inform him that we are unable
to reach an accommodation, and direct him to look elsewhere. There are, after all, other groups in this
city."
Priss kept a carefully calm facade, but
inside she shook with rage. Damn bitch. She can't treat us like that. She can't
treat _me_ like that! I ought to tell her just where.... No.
The guys will kill me if I blow another deal. They want this one. Priss
forcibly calmed herself.
"No need to go elsewhere,
Oomori-san," she said, each word sounding as if it were forced out. "I just wanted to clarify our position
one more time."
The shark disappeared, replaced by the
businesswoman again. "Noted, and I believe our meeting is concluded. Good
evening."
Priss watched as the record company's
A&R Director stood, gathering her things to leave the darkened room that
was Hot Legs after hours. "Hey." The woman looked up. "Something
has been bothering me. Have we met somewhere before?"
"I think not," she sniffed, and
left the room as quickly as she could, her assistant close behind.
"Bitch," Priss muttered under
her breath. "OK, guys, all clear!"
The rest of the band emerged from the backstage
area. "Well?" Paul demanded. He was the most outspoken of the Reps
about making the deal.
"All signed. One year, with another
year at their option. One album the first year, one in the option year,
touring, performance, support, the usual stuff." She thought briefly of
some of the clauses that weren't quite so usual. Ahh, who cares about
non-performance. We _always_ meet our performance dates. Well, almost
always.... "The money's not the greatest, and you know I'm not happy with
some of the terms, but it's the best I could do." Given that somehow that
bitch knew you guys were pushing me into this deal.
Priss eyed the bassist narrowly. Was it
you, Paul? Were you the one?
"Then that'll have to do," the
drummer interrupted her thoughts.
"It'll be OK for a start, that's for
_damn_ sure," Paul agreed. "But who gives a shit about that now,
let's PARTY!"
"Damn right!"
Priss joined in the general euphoria of
the moment, but passed when the drugs and booze came out. She hadn't engaged in
what Sylia euphemistically called "recreational pharmaceuticals"
since before joining the Knight Sabers, and, truth be told, didn't miss
it.
The high
she got from performing and Boomer-bashing more than made up for them.
Besides, tonight was not a time to be
even slightly blurred. She thought she'd seen what looked like the same
motorcycle at least five times today. Thinking back, it seemed like she'd seen
that same bike several times over the last few weeks. Of course, she couldn't
be sure.
She'd
never noticed the rider. Or if she had, she'd never connected the one with the
other.
Maybe what she'd initially thought of as
paranoia on Sylia's part was rubbing off, but, real or imagined, the thought of
being followed was beginning to spook her. Ah, I'm overtired, that's it. It's
just these damn negotiations getting to me. I wouldn't put it past Leon to
follow me around, she thought wryly, but there's no reason for anyone else to
do it. But still, Sylia wasn't often wrong....
Or maybe it's just old age. Decrepit at
20. Early onset senility, that's the ticket.
Shaking off the dark thoughts, she turned
back to her friends, determined to have a good time. Tonight was, after all, a night to party.
***
CONTINUED
IN PART 3
TRUE LOVE
Part 3
The demons are calling to her, and she's
been blinded by their falsehoods.
They've promised her fame and fortune and
happiness.
But she can only be happy with me.
She thinks she's leaving me.
She can never leave me. We are one, soul mates.
She must be saved from herself.
I must save her.
I love her.
***
Word of the signing spread quickly among
the regulars at Hot Legs, and from there to the more casual fans of the band.
Tonight, the club closely resembled a zoo, as it seemed like the entire city
wanted in to see "Priss and the Replicants." After all, once they
made it big
most of
the crowd wouldn't be able to get in to their venues, let alone afford the
price of a ticket.
Newcomers already inside the club were
removed, forcibly at times, as room was made for the regulars. Although upset
that he would soon be losing his premiere attraction, the manager reacted like
any intelligent businessman -- he tripled the cover charge, watered down the
drinks even more, and was making a killing.
As a result, there was a sudden rush of
new roadies appearing at the club's back door, all vouched for by one or
another of the band's members. Which was how Nene Romanova and Linna Yamazaki
found themselves on the main floor, helping Charles, the guy at the mixing
board. Helping, that is, by staying out
of his way and not touching _anything_.
When the house and stage lights went
down, a stylish half-hour late, the crowd turned its collective attention from
their mundane activities to the stage. Priss had dictated a change in the
playlist; instead of their signature opener, "Konya wa Hurricane",
the Reps were kicking off with another old favorite, "Rock Me." As
the pulsing bass and percussion lines of the opening began, the crowd roared in
recognition. The roar built as the wailing guitar solo joined the wall of sound
thundering out of the darkness. An infinitesimal pause in the
music,
and the lights flared on as Priss began the verse. The roar of approval changed
to something more primal, like that of some prehistoric beast, shaking the
building to its foundations.
Priss strutted around the stage, putting
everything into the performance, selling the song to the crowd of willing
buyers. Nezumi might have spies in the house, and she was determined to prove
that they were worth a better deal. There were times when Priss was totally
drained after a performance; this looked to be one of those nights.
And
then...
During the reprise of the intro, Priss
suddenly staggered backward a couple of steps, a surprised look on her
face. As she fell to her knees, one of
the can lights at the side of the stage exploded. Some of the crowd cheered this bit of rock-n-roll pyrotechnics,
something new for the Reps, but Nene seemed to know instinctively that
something was very wrong. The band vamped a bit when their leader didn't come
in on cue, confused looks on their faces.
Nene grabbed Linna's arm and they moved
out from behind the board onto the floor, shoving their way through the crowd
of drunken or stoned (or, in some cases, both) fans, all intent on, it seemed,
getting in their way. As they finally broke into a relatively clear area,
Linna
looked up in time to see Priss fall forward onto her face. The band ground to a
halt, and the drummer climbed out from behind his set, moving to Priss's side.
"Get him! He's got a gun!!" The
cry shattered the sudden silence engendered by Priss's collapse. The crowd
started to panic: a few moving to the source of the cry, more moving toward the
stage, most running for the exits as fast as they could.
"Go on!" Linna yelled into
Nene's ear over the screaming crowd. "I'll see what's happening over
there!" Giving Nene a push in the direction of the stage, she began
shoving her way across the room to where several men were pounding on someone.
Although it had only been 3 or 4 seconds since Priss fell, Nene felt as if
hours had elapsed.
Thanking her stars that she was, for
once, complying with regulations, Nene pulled her shield case out of the pocket
of her jeans. She clipped her ADP ID card to her collar, and looped the case
through her belt, all while worming her way through the rapidly thinning mob. The initial surge away from the stage seemed
to have passed, and, after flashing her badge at one of the overwhelmed
bouncers trying to move the remaining crowd out the exits, she
climbed
onto the stage itself. She walked quickly over to the small clutch of band
members and stagehands huddled around Priss. Wiggling her way through the
group, she was finally able to see her friend.
Priss was lying on her stomach, face
turned to the right, feet tangled
with some
cables, wig askew. One of her
band-mates (the drummer, Nene identified distractedly) was kneeling at her
side, talking to her softly. She's only tripped and knocked her fool self out,
Nene sighed in relief.
The drummer looked up then, the lost
expression on his face shattering her illusion. "Please, do you know what to do? She won't answer me. She's
just staring into space." Nene
blanched, then knelt at Priss's other side and gently removed the microphone
still clenched
in her
hand. She checked Priss's pulse, first
at the wrist, then reaching across and checking at the arteries in her neck.
Reaching up blindly, Nene grabbed the
nearest fist full of clothing she could reach. "AD Police. Call an
ambulance." The person didn't move, and Nene looked up at him, anger
suffusing her face. It was the bass player, and he looked back at her blankly.
She shoved him away,
wishing
that there was someone she could count on here. Even Leon would do.
"Hey! I need some help over
here!" she yelled at the nearest bouncer. Focused on a rapidly escalating
fight near one of the side exits, he didn't hear her. "Hey! YOU!! FIIIIIIRRREE!!!" That got his attention. "AD Police.
Call an ambulance. Call the police.
NOW!" He nodded, and started moving toward the
bar. Now that help was hopefully on the way, she returned her full attention to
the injured singer.
Nene pulled the tangled blonde wig the
rest of the way off Priss's head, then, with help from the drummer, she turned
her friend onto her back. Priss's chest was covered with blood and gore from
what looked like a gunshot wound, and there was blood trickling from her nose
and mouth. Nene started to panic a bit
herself when she realized there were air bubbles in the blood welling from the
chest wound. OhmygodohmygodohmyGOD please don't let me fuck this up! her mind
gibbered as she closed her eyes and took two or three deep breaths to steady
herself. The crowd on the stage
vanished when they realized what was happening. Someone had been shot and the police were on the way. Not a good place to be.
Nene grabbed the drummer before he could
disappear, and sent him in search of a first aid kit, threatening to come and
find him some dark night if he didn't come back. Then she took off her own
jacket and folded it up into a kind of pad, and placed it over the wound,
applying
pressure.
She suddenly realized that Priss was
watching her. From the look in her eyes, she obviously didn't understand what
was going on, but there was some bit of consciousness there. Nene brushed the hair out of Priss's eyes
with blood-streaked fingers. "Hang in there, Priss.
Everything's
going to be fine. You just relax and keep still and let me take care of
things," Nene muttered, trying to comfort her. Oh SHIT, why didn't I pay
more attention in field medical training? What do I do now?!
"Oh my God...." Nene glanced
back to see Linna standing behind her, a stricken look on her face. As she
looked up at her other friend, another part of her mind registered the sudden
quiet in the club. The drummer returned, dropped a battered metal box with a
red cross on
the lid
on the floor at Priss's feet, and ran back stage again.
Linna broke out of her shock and grabbed
the first aid kit. Moving opposite Nene, she opened it and began digging
through the contents for something that could be remotely considered a bandage.
Priss's eyelids began to sag shut; she was fading out. Nene reached out, slapping her face lightly,
leaving bloody finger marks on her cheek.
"Come
on, Priss, stay awake. Stay with us here. Don't you do this to me, Priss. Come
on...."
"No, nothing yet. When did she leave? ...
Well she hasn't shown up here.
... That's right, Midori
General. ... Of course I'll let you know, Mackie. As soon as I know something
myself. ... Right."
Linna looked toward the bank of elevators
as she heard the familiar _bing_ announcing an arriving car. A dark haired
woman wearing a red business suit with a navy blouse and pearls stepped out and
looked around. She spotted Linna at the
phone bank and moved in her
direction.
Geez, Linna thought, she looks like she's
spent all this time just getting _dressed!_
"Oops, here she is now," she said, returning to her telephone
conversation. "I'll call you back
later." She hung up the phone and
turned to face the approaching woman.
"It's about time you got here, Sylia. We called hours ago."
"I'm sure it's been difficult,
Linna. Where's Nene?"
"Probably pacing a trench in the
visitor's lounge. Where have you been?"
"Come on. It can wait until we're
all together."
The pair walked in silence down the
corridor, past the nurse's station, to the tiny visitor's waiting lounge. Nene
looked up as they approached and rose to greet them. "No news," she
said solemnly.
"Where have you been Sylia?"
she echoed Linna, a touch of rebuke in her voice. "We could have used some
support here."
"Since Priss was already in surgery
when you called, I felt I could put the time to better use. I've been doing
some research, and making some arrangements."
"Research?" Nene loved Sylia
dearly, and would follow her, as the cliche went, to hell and back. But there were times when she wondered if
the icy mask Sylia showed the world really was her true self. Priss had almost
died in her arms tonight. The doctors still
weren't
sure if she would survive the night. And Sylia couldn't find the time to come
to the hospital and lend her support because she was doing _research?!_ "I
hope to hell it was worth it," Nene continued to grumble under her breath
as she slouched back down into her seat,
staring
at the floor.
Sylia ignored her, taking the seat next
to her. Linna remained standing, leaning against the opposite wall, near the
entrance to the cubbyhole. She rubbed her eyes, red with fatigue, and resumed
her watch on the doors to the surgical suite.
"In a number of ways," Sylia
finally responded to Nene's gibe. "To begin with," she said, very
matter of factly, "Priss was being stalked."
Linna slid down the wall to thump onto
the floor. "A stalker?" she quavered, her voice betrayed her
disbelief. The look of total shock on her face was mirrored by the one on
Nene's.
Sylia opened her purse, removing a slim
gold case. "Kusanagi Rei. Does the name ring any bells with you?"
Both Nene and Linna shook their heads.
"I thought you might have met him; I
understand that he's a regular at Hot Legs. Anyway, he shot her. He's already
admitted to following Priss around for several weeks now; apparently she never
noticed. He says they love each other."
Sylia paused in her narrative long enough
to light the cigarette she had removed from the case, totally ignoring the
"NO SMOKING" sign on the wall. She inhaled once, deeply, then began
to resume her story.
"Don't put those away," Linna
cut in, holding out her hand. As Sylia looked at her curiously, she clarified,
"Your cigarettes. Let me have one."
"But Linna," Nene started,
"you don't smoke."
"I do now." Sylia and Nene
continued to stare at her. "Look, I've got to have something to do,"
she told them, barely controlled hysteria evident in her voice. She'd been
holding together fine until now, but the thought of a stalker targeting one of
her friends had shaken her worse than almost anything she'd ever faced. It was
every woman's nightmare come to life.
"I'm going nuts just sitting in here. And I don't dare leave in
case...." She trailed off, leaving
unsaid what they all feared.
Sylia gave Linna a small smile of
reassurance and tossed her the case, keeping the lighter herself. As she'd half-expected, Linna didn't ask for
the lighter, didn't even seem to realize Sylia hadn't given it to her. After
holding it for a few moments, Linna began to play with the case, unconsciously
turning it every which-way, opening and closing the lid. She settled back into her new vantage point
on the floor, watching the doors to surgery.
After a few more seconds Sylia continued
her story.
"According to the police reports,
the investigators say he's exhibiting some of the classic characteristics of a
celebrity stalker mentality. For some reason he got fixated on Priss."
Sylia sat watching Linna; she seemed to have calmed a little. "To the
extent of
killing
someone who, he says, got in his way."
Linna seemed to falter a little in her
toying with the cigarette case, but otherwise gave no outward sign that she was
listening.
"They found a body in the dumpster
in the back alley. The fellow's name was Honda Kenji, and he was a bouncer at
the club."
"Oh my God...." Nene breathed.
Then, in a whisper, "But, why Priss? Why shoot her if he likes her so
much?"
"He told TPD that Priss had been
blinded by the promises of demons, and that's a direct quote. He said that she
could only be happy with him, and that someone had to save her from herself.
So, since he loves her so much, he was the only one who could save her."
Nene looked at her uncomprehendingly.
Linna was still off in her own world: she continued to stare down the corridor.
Sylia reached over and patted Nene's hand. "Don't try to make sense of it.
He's obviously a very sick person. If there's any good to come of this, it's
that he's
off the streets and won't be bothering anyone else for a long, long time."
After a few more minutes of uncomfortable
silence, Nene looked around, and asked in a low voice, "So this has
nothing to do with... her other activities? I mean, did he find out...."
"No," Sylia replied shortly. At
least, I don't think he had time to make the connection, she thought to
herself. God, I can't believe this is happening again, her mind rambled, and
she shook herself mentally. I've _got_ to keep a positive attitude. Suddenly
she smiled slightly, changing the subject.
"I hear you're in for a surprise at work, Nene."
Nene looked up. "What are you talking about?"
"The Emergency Medical Technicians
at the scene told the investigating officers that Priss would probably have
bled to death before they arrived if it hadn't been for your quick thinking.
TPD passed that on to the ADP, and you're going to get an award because of
it."
Nene blushed furiously, staring at the
floor to hide her embarrassment. Then her head jerked up again, and she glared
suspiciously at Sylia. "Now wait a minute. How do you know all
this?"
"You're not the only one who knows
how to access outside databases, Nene," Sylia said slyly. For the first time in hours, Linna smiled slightly.
But it disappeared as quickly as it began when the double doors at the end of
the corridor opened. A man wearing a white lab coat over blue-grey surgical
scrubs shuffled wearily through.
She jumped to her feet. At the other's
look of inquiry, she hissed, "The doctor's coming."
The physician entered the visitor's
lounge, where he was greeted by three sober-faced young women. He vaguely
remembered speaking to the dark haired one in jeans briefly in the Emergency
Room.
"Asagiri?" he asked, as a
matter of routine.
"Yes," replied the other dark
haired woman. "How is Priss?"
"I'm Doctor Cengia Walsh, Ms.
Asagiri's primary care physician. Ms. Asagiri is still in surgery. She's doing
as well as can be expected at the moment. Would any of you be," he glanced
at a note attached to the file folder he carried, "Dr. Ryoko
Asagiri?"
"I'm Ryoko Asagiri," Sylia
answered calmly. "Is there something wrong?"
Walsh opened the folder and began to flip
through the paper inside, apparently looking for something. "You are Ms. Asagiri's
next-of-kin?"
"Yes, she's my cousin, and I have
her power of attorney. Has something happened?" she repeated, a bit
impatiently this time.
Stopping his digging, he looked up.
"The test results aren't back yet, but it appears that your cousin has
suffered some sort of allergic reaction to the anesthesia we used. It was the damnedest thing. I've never seen
anyone have a reaction like that before.
She's lucky we were able to get it under control in time." He
removed a few clipped together pages from the file, and handed them to Sylia.
"This is her record from the MedNet database. Is there anything else not
in here that we should know about?"
"Everything should be there. She
always has her updates sent in," Sylia muttered as she began scanning the
file. Walsh stood next to her, rattling on about anaphylaxis and treatments and
types of anesthesia.
"She's going to be all right, isn't
she?" Linna asked, running her hands through her hair.
Walsh turned his attention from reading over Sylia's shoulder to
Linna. "The damage was fairly extensive, but she's doing as well as we can
expect right now."
"When can we see her?" Nene
burst out, almost before the doctor could finish.
"She's still in surgery now,"
he repeated. "Maybe tomorrow, or the day after."
Sylia handed the file back to Dr. Walsh.
"That's complete, to the best of my knowledge. When will she be ready to transfer?"
"Transfer? To another hospital? Not
for quite some time, Dr. Asagiri." The look he gave her plainly said, 'I
shouldn't have to explain this to you.' After a moment though, he relented.
There were, after all, times when doctors had to be treated like The Rest of
the
World.
With a relative involved, it was clearly the time to treat Dr. Asagiri that
way. He looked Sylia directly in the eye. "Due to the nature of her
injuries, and now this reaction, your cousin is going to be a very ill young
lady for quite a while. She'll be in intensive care for the foreseeable
future."
Sylia took a deep breath, closing his
eyes for a moment, her face briefly betraying her worry for Priss. "All
right Doctor. No offense intended to you or this hospital, but I'd like to
transfer her to a private facility as soon as she's able. Would you be the
appropriate person to contact about the arrangements?"
A sour look crossed Walsh's face as he
stared at Sylia. The temperature in the room seemed to drop more than a few
degrees.
"Yes. Please excuse me, I have to return to surgery." As he turned
and walked away, they could hear him muttering, "Better worry about her
surviving to _be_ transferred first."
TRUE LOVE
Part 4
Sylia knocked on the door to the office of
Dr. Takezaki Ataru. Another of her father's old friends (and why had so many of
them remained available to her, she never ceased to wonder), Dr. Takezaki ran a
private hospital specializing in the treatment and rehabilitation of trauma
cases. Although he had no inkling of her activities with the Knight Sabers, and
she had no intention of sharing that particular secret with him, she supported
his facility with generous donations.
They helped at a time like this.
No one answered her knock. With the ease
of someone who knows she'll be welcome, Sylia entered the office anyway,
closing the door behind her. Making herself comfortable in one of the chairs
facing the cherrywood desk, she removed a palm-top computer from her bag and
began
entering notes. She wasn't left waiting for long.
"Well Sylia, punctual as ever,"
Takezaki smiled as he entered his office. He motioned for her to remain seated
as he took the leather-bound chair next to her.
Some things never change, she thought. It
didn't matter where they met, or if she was early, late, or right on time. He
always greeted her that way. "Of course, Takezaki-sensei. I wouldn't want to disappoint you," she
briefly returned his smile, then turned serious. "You wanted to see
me? How is Priss?"
"You should ask your friend that, Sylia." At her puzzled
look, he elaborated. "Someone has been hacking into this hospital's
patient records. The other day I overheard that little red-headed friend of
yours and Priss's -- the one that's the police officer...."
"Nene."
"Nene, yes. The other day I
overheard Nene tell Priss that we were going to take her off the ventilator
that day." He frowned at Sylia.
"Now, unless she's been sneaking
into the nurse's station to read the patient charts or bribing my staff, the
only way for her to have known that is to have read the on-line transcription
of Priss's chart records. I would have thought a police officer, of all people,
would know better than that."
Sylia looked a bit abashed for a moment.
"Takezaki-sensei, I don't know what to say. Surely you don't really think Nene broke into your computer
system, do you?" He continued to stare at her.
"Just tell her for me to make
certain it never happens again."
"Of course. Perhaps she can have her
department look into this for you."
Takezaki smiled a bit at this, as if to
say, 'I don't believe a word of it, but I'll give you one chance to straighten
her out.' "Good. Now then, about
Priss...."
"How is she?" Sylia repeated.
Takezaki sat silently, collecting his
thoughts. He remembered back to the night two weeks earlier when a very
distraught Sylia had called to ask about admitting a friend who had been shot.
The next day, reviewing her friend's case file with her attending physician, he
had
been
impressed again with the amount of damage that one bullet could cause.
The only external indications of injury
were the entry wound in her chest and the obvious signs of a broken left
shoulder. However, she had also suffered extensive internal injuries from
shrapnel, not to mention complications from her reaction to the anesthesia.
Priss had
been
lucky that the explosive load in the ammunition was small: a larger charge
could have easily blown her arm off.
"What can I say? She's doing very well, considering
everything she's been through. Dr. Walsh and his team at Midori did a
remarkable job keeping her alive long enough to put back together."
Takezaki seemed to be gazing at something
over Sylia's left shoulder as he mentally ticked through Priss's case file.
"All the fragments are out of her heart and lung, and there's been no sign
of further arterial bleeding. All we can do now is monitor the healing progress
in those areas. In another few days we'd like to go back in and rebuild her
shoulder."
"But...."
Takezaki broke from his reverie.
"What?"
"I think I heard an unspoken 'but'
there." Sylia looked at him steadily. "What's going on, Doctor?"
He sighed. "It's the anaphylactic reaction. Her lungs are healing, but her
trachea, larynx, and vocal cords aren't. The standard treatments aren't working
very well for some reason. Since you authorized it, we're going to try some new
treatment regimens. But
her
shoulder is going to have to wait until we get this mess cleared up. She's had
five operations in the last two weeks; unless it's life and death I'm not
subjecting her to any further surgeries right now. They put too much of a
strain on her respiratory system."
Another long pause, then, softly,
"But in any case, I'm afraid her voice may have been irreparably
damaged."
Sylia closed her eyes and drew a deep
breath, letting it out slowly. Priss is strong, she can handle anything... but
this....
The doctor watched the emotions flicker
across his friend's face. When she appeared to have calmed herself, he added
quietly, "I'm so sorry, Sylia. I understand that she's a singer. Obviously, we'll do everything we can, but I
just wanted to let you know how things stand.
A lot of her
recovery is going to depend on her attitude. She's going to need her friends to
help her through this." He stopped
for a moment, removing his glasses. "Which is the main reason I asked you
to come by today." Sylia looked up at that, shaken from her private
thoughts.
"Priss had some visitors this afternoon. Some of her bandmates. Apparently
there's been some bad news...."
"Priss?" By the glow of the indicators on the
monitoring equipment, Sylia could just make out a human shape on the slightly elevated
hospital bed across the room. She appeared to be sleeping. Sylia quietly closed
the door behind her and ghosted through the darkness.
"Sylia?" The voice, little more
than a whisper, was harsh, raspy, and deep. If Sylia didn't already know the identity
of the owner, she would have been hard pressed to guess its gender.
"Yes, it's me. How are you
feeling?" She moved a chair from its place along the wall, setting it down
beside the bed.
"How the hell do you think I'm
feeling?!" The strain that exclamation of rage put on her abused body led
to a coughing fit.
Sylia was about to ring for help when it
finally subsided, and Priss lay back, panting for air. She never seemed to be
able to get enough air these days.
"Would you like something to
drink?" At her nod, Sylia poured a
glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table, then held it for her
while she drank.
"Thanks."
They sat a while in the darkness, each to
her own thoughts, accompanied only by the whirrs and beeps of the machines
monitoring and supporting Priss. At length, Sylia softly asked, "What
happened? Takezaki-sensei said you had visitors, and that you've been upset
since
they
left." Nothing. "Priss, please. Talk to me."
For the longest time Sylia thought she
wasn't going to answer. Although she'd loosened up over time, Priss was still
more comfortable keeping her own counsel.
Finally, she spoke, haltingly, having to
pause occasionally to get her breath. "The guys... came to see me today.
That bitch... from the record company... says they have to start...
performing...next week or...they lose the contract....Contract clause.... They
were very... nice about it. Said... they felt terrible. They've been...
assigned... another singer." Now the glow from the machines revealed
unshed tears glistening in Priss's eyes.
"All those years... all that work... and I'm out... like
that.... They're going on... without
me... and I'm... I'm...."
"Oh Priss." Sylia leaned forward, gathering her into a
gentle hug as Priss sobbed heartbrokenly into her shoulder.
The weeks passed.
In a luncheon ceremony, Nene received the
ADP's Meritorious Service Medal for 'conspicuous presence of mind in an
emergency' and 'performance beyond the bounds of her expertise and training'.
In a surprise announcement, Linna was given a Civilian Assistance
Award by
the TPD. She professed to being very satisfied with the $100,000 and the
certificate that the award brought to her.
Mackie was selected to participate in an
exchange program with a technical school in Germany. He'd left in early March,
at the beginning of the new school year in Japan. Dr. Raven was sure he'd be able to continue to support Knight
Saber operations without
Mackie's
help. Sylia wasn't as sure that he'd be able to keep up, and began to look for
a reliable, yet discreet, technical assistant for him.
Sylia decided that, since Mackie would be
away for the better part of a year, it would be a good time to do major
renovations on both the Lady 633 building and her penthouse. Renovations to the Knight Saber's complex
were also in the offing, including the addition of an aircraft hangar large
enough to support the jet she had recently purchased.
Priss continued to heal. Dr. Takezaki's
surgeons rebuilt her left shoulder when she was strong enough to withstand
further surgery, and cosmetic surgery and other treatments erased almost all
the scarring left behind. Her voice was also healing, but Dr. Takezaki's
prediction
had come to pass. It was still very raspy and fluctuating in tone, but it had
become clear that there was permanent damage. Her voice therapist had promised
she would be able to sing again, but privately Priss had her doubts.
Psychologically, Priss was having trouble
coming to terms with what had happened to her.
Being 'fired' from the band had been a tremendous emotional blow, and
there was a great deal of concern that it would affect her physical recovery. She spent the majority of her time lying in
the dark, unresponsive to all who approached her. She wasn't sleeping much, or
for very long, because of horrible, recurring nightmares mixing recent events
with demons from her past.
Only twice in the first few weeks of her
recovery had that wall cracked. The first was during Sylia's visit, shortly
after she was forced out by Nezumi. The second was when Paul, the bassist with
her former band, came to visit her in the hospital. It seemed that Nezumi
was
engaging in that age-old industry practice of signing a band, then replacing
the musicians and promoting the singer. Mr. Andrue, the man assigned by the
label to handle "The Replicants," had just informed Paul that his
services were no longer required. Paul, looking
for a
comforting shoulder to cry on, came to see Priss. Priss took great delight in
having him thrown out on his ear.
Shortly after her shoulder surgery, Priss
was released from the hospital and sent to recuperate at Linna's. After finally
finishing her degree at night school, Linna had recently begun working at a
stock brokerage. She had been charged with delivering Priss to Dr. Takezaki's
rehabilitation center every morning for her therapy sessions, and with picking
her up again at the end of the day. The subject of Kusanagi Rei was taboo. When
she had recovered
enough to
talk, Priss had impassively answered the questions of the police investigators,
stating that she had never met the man, didn't know who he was, and couldn't
identify him. But once they were finished,
she refused to discuss it with anyone. Her psychotherapist
was
concerned, but seemed to feel that this denial was just a stage that needed to
be worked through. Sylia was more alarmed. She knew just how much feeling Priss
could bottle up inside. When it finally
got out, Priss would either explode or fall apart.
***
The Reps were kicking ass tonight. One of
those nights when the band fed off the crowd's energy as the crowd fed off the
band's.
Priss, out front once again, takes it all
in. An intense feeling that could only culminate in an almost orgasmic climax.
She lived for these moments.
Akuma to Tenshi no Enjiru. Tight.
Precise. The way it should be. And at her feet, the world. She holds them in her hands, has them in her
control, ready to do her slightest bidding.
But now there is a distortion in a small
part of that world, as the bobbing and dancing crowd in her domain parts to
allow entry to a dark-haired man wearing sunglasses despite the darkness, and a
dark jacket despite the heat.
Leon, with that ever-present 'all's right
with me so all's right with the world' smirk on his face, and she grins back.
She glances off into the crowd for a moment, and when she looks back it's not
Leon smirking at her, but Largo, back from the dead.
Shocked, she turns to warn the band, only
it's not the Reps behind her after all. The trio looks at her curiously, and
stops playing. "Guys, we've got to get out of here," she warns them.
"Hey, don't drag me into this,"
Linna cautions, as she steps from behind the drum set.
"Yeah, Priss," Nene says, as
she packs up the twin-necked guitar she's been playing. "This is between you and him."
"You're on your own with this
one," Sylia says, as she disconnects her bass from the amp and follows the
others off the stage.
Her feet are frozen; she can't follow.
Panicked, she looks around wildly, trying to find someone, anyone to help her.
Largo begins to laugh, and gestures to
the heavens, summoning the wrath of a God.
***
"NoooOOOO!!!!!" The shattered scream had Linna off the couch
and running for her bedroom before she was even fully awake. An all too common
occurrence of late.
She hurtled through the open door, and
rushed to the bedside. Priss was fighting against the sheets tangled about her
as she tried to sit up, and Linna was afraid she'd hurt herself. Again. The week before she hadn't been as
quick on her feet when the nightmares struck, and, as a result, Priss had
thrashed herself out of bed and reinjured her shoulder.
"Priss, Priss," Linna called
out as she grabbed her comrade by the arms. "Come on, wake up, it's just a
bad dream."
Eventually she stopped struggling, and
Linna shifted from simple restraint to a hug of support as great, wracking sobs
shook Priss's unaccustomedly fragile body. "Shh, shh, hush now... It's ok... it's all right..." Linna
soothed. A few minutes later she felt Priss stiffen in her arms, and she let go
with a sigh. "Are you OK
now?"
Priss peered back through the
darkness. "I'm fine."
"Priss, come on. You've got to talk
to someone. What was it this time?"
"Nothing. Leave me alone."
Linna sighed in exasperation. From the
stony expression on her face, Priss was obviously back in mule-mode, another
all too common occurrence lately. "Fine. As long as you're all
right?" Priss nodded, and Linna didn't believe her for a minute. "OK,
then I'll be just
outside
if you need anything," she said as she stood and made her way to the
door. "Goodnight."
"'Night," came the subdued reply.
Left alone again in the shadows, in the
large bed in the strange bedroom, Priss ignored the dampness on her cheeks and
stared at the ceiling, willing sleep not to come.
Sylia had just finished reading the morning
paper when her phone rang. The scanner
indicated an audio/video signal sourced from ADP Headquarters. What could Nene
be calling about at this hour? she thought as she slid into the seat in front
of the monitor. She pressed the
'Accept' key, and was immediately faced with a very distraught
redhead.
"Sylia, I don't know how to tell
you, but..." Nene puffed, practically hyperventilating in her distress.
"Calm down, Nene. Take a couple breaths and take it
slowly." Nene did as instructed, but it didn't seem to help.
"You... I... You... You're not going to believe this," Nene
stammered. "Kusanagi's gotten away from TPD."
"WHAT?!!" Sylia sat bolt upright in her chair,
stunned. "What _happened?_"
Nene swallowed hard, still trying to
regain her composure. "About an hour ago. They were transporting him to
Court, and got involved in a traffic accident. And when the guards weren't
looking, he just walked off and an all-points bulletin just went out about it
and as soon as I heard IcalledyouwhatarewegoingtotellPriss?" Nene was talking so fast by now that it was
difficult to understand her. Fortunately, Sylia got the gist of the message.
Checking the time, Sylia muttered to
herself, "She's already at the rehab center for the day." Looking up into the screen she added, more
audibly, "Don't worry Nene, I'll take care of it." She smiled at the younger woman
encouragingly. "Keep your eyes and
ears open. Get
all the
information about this that you can, and meet me here tonight."
Nene swallowed again, nodded, and closed
the connection.
Sylia sat for a few moments, her mind
churning over the possible consequences of Nene's news. Her first thoughts were
for protecting Priss. From Kusanagi, obviously; who knew what he might have in
mind. But also for protecting her from herself. There was no way of telling how
she'd react to the news.
Reaching forward, she keyed in a
comm-code she'd recently become very familiar with. "Dr. Takezaki's office, Hiroe speaking. How may I help you?"
"This is Sylia Stingray. I need to
speak with Takezaki-sensei, immediately. It's an emergency."
TRUE LOVE
Part 5
"Pull over. I always meet her right here."
Linna and Sylia sat in Sylia's red
Mercedes, parked on the street outside the rehab center. From the outside it
appeared that the two women, facing each other, were chatting to pass the time
while waiting for someone. While it was true that they _were_ waiting for
someone, it was also the only thing true about their appearance.
Sylia, in the driver's seat, was looking
out the windows on the passenger side of the car, watching the parking area for
any sign of trouble. Linna, riding shotgun, was scanning the front of the
building out the driver's side windows. Neither had had much to say since
Sylia had
picked Linna up from work an hour before.
After about ten minutes, the sliding
doors at the front of the center whooshed open, and Priss stepped out,
accompanied by a security guard. Linna opened the car door and waved Priss
over, then got into the back seat.
It broke Sylia's heart to see Priss like
this. She had lost a great deal of weight, to the point of gauntness, and it
did not suit her. Her usual confident stride had disappeared, replaced by a
stooped shuffle, as if she bore the weight of the world on her back. A car door
slammed in the parking area, and Priss jumped, looking about wildly. Her eyes
greatly resembled those of a trapped wild animal. And this is the person who
keeps telling everyone that everything is all right, Sylia thought sadly.
While Priss slowly climbed into the
passenger seat, the guard stood between her and the outside world, shielding
her with his body while he scanned the area. Sylia and Linna exchanged a
significant glance.
Once Priss was safely inside, the guard turned and leaned into
the car.
"The Doctor said some people had
reported troublemakers in the area, and asked me to see Ms. Asagiri out today.
You ladies be careful, now." He stepped away from the car and closed the
door.
With a nod to him, Sylia pulled smoothly
away from the curb.
Linna unlocked the door to her apartment,
and stepped inside. Priss started to follow, only to be checked by Sylia's hand
on her arm and a shake of her head. Linna removed her sneakers, and stealthily
moved into the apartment, leaving Sylia and Priss standing silently outside the
door. Five minutes later she returned. "OK, it's clear," was all she
said, then she retreated to her kitchen.
The other women stepped into the
entryway, and Sylia closed and locked the door behind them. "What's going
on?" Priss asked as she toed her shoes off. Something was obviously wrong,
and she didn't like being kept in the dark.
Sylia straightened from removing her
shoes. "Let's go to the living room; it's been a long day and I'd like to
sit down."
"If it's all the same to you, Sylia,
I'd rather go lie down instead. I'm exhausted. I didn't get much sleep last
night."
"Just for a few minutes, then you
can lie down. Besides, don't you have to take some medicine about now?"
Priss sighed, and shuffled off into the
apartment proper, followed by Sylia. Blender noises could be heard from the
kitchen as they entered the living room. Priss slumped onto the couch, while
Sylia took a chair opposite her. Linna soon joined them, carrying a tray with
a large
glass and two coffee cups on it. She set the tray down on a side table, then
handed one of the cups to Sylia.
"Here you go, Priss," Linna
said brightly, as she sat on the couch next to her. She handed her the glass
and kept the other coffee cup for herself. "Chock full of those healthy
vitamins and nutrients. Drink up!"
Priss stared at the glass as if it had a
dead animal floating in it. To help her regain some of her lost weight, she was
supposed to drink a special high calorie, high vitamin, high nutrient beverage
four times a day. It may have been good for her, but it tasted awful. Assuming the air of a martyr, she made a face,
then attempted to drink it all down at once.
Sylia stifled a small smile. There were times when small flashes of the
"old Priss" came through. Sylia hoped that they were a sign that,
eventually, Priss would recover from this ordeal.
After a few minutes of relative silence,
punctuated only by drinking sounds, Priss could take it no more. "All right," she rasped,
"what is it?"
Linna and Sylia exchanged a glance, and
Linna made an 'over to you' gesture. Sylia set her half-finished coffee down,
and looked at Priss. "Kusanagi Rei has escaped police custody," she
said bluntly.
The blood rushed from Priss's already
pale face, and she swayed slightly on the couch. Linna quickly reached out and put a steadying arm around her.
"Nene says every police officer in the city is on the lookout for him.
Don't worry, they'll find him."
"Oh, God," Priss croaked, tears
coming to her eyes.
"Priss," Linna began softly,
"Sylia's talked to the TPD. In a little while they're coming here to pick
both of us up. They're going to take you someplace where he can't find you, and
I'm coming along to keep you company."
Priss paled further, if that was
possible, and her mental, physical, and emotional stress and exhaustion came
crashing down on her all at once. "You think he's coming here, don't
you? He's coming here to get me, isn't
he?"
"No, Priss, no no. It's just a
precaution. Nothing's going to happen to you. I'll be there to make sure
nothing happens, and TPD will have people there too." Priss wasn't listening.
"He killed Kenji," she said in
a rising whisper, tears streaming down her face, "and now he's coming to
kill me. He's coming to kill me! Oh, God, what am I going to doooo?!" Her
shattered wail echoed around the room, and she collapsed forward out of Linna's
arms,
hands
over her face. Head to her knees, she began rocking back and forth on the
couch, sobbing. A horrified Linna looked across at an equally appalled Sylia.
Sylia quickly crossed the room and knelt
in front of the pair on the couch. Taking Priss's hands in her own, she made
soothing, nonsensical noises, trying to calm her. Linna put her arm back around
Priss, trying to provide some comfort of her own.
It took almost half an hour for Priss's
emotional storm to abate, a half-hour that was wrenching to all of them. Sylia
had moved to the couch, sitting opposite Linna, both providing physical and
emotional support to their friend.
"Do you trust me, Priss?" Sylia
asked softly, as if speaking to a frightened child. Priss looked up, her eyes red from weeping, and nodded
hesitantly. "Good. I'm glad." Sylia smiled. "I'm going to make
you a promise." Sylia looked solemn now, gazing steadily into
Priss's
eyes, as if they were the only ones in the room. "I promise you that
nothing is going to happen to you. I
won't _let_ anything happen to you. Do you believe me?" The hesitant nod
came again.
"Good. Now, in a little bit TPD is going to come by and take you to a
safe place; somewhere where nobody can find you unless you want them to."
"Are you coming too?" came the
tremulous, whispered reply.
"Linna's going to go with you. But if you want me to come see you, or you
just want to talk to me, you know all you have to do is call. Is that OK?"
Again the hesitant nod. "What are you
going to do?"
"I'm going to make sure no one's
going to harm you. And no one will. Not while I'm around."
***
The dream begins the same. On stage. The
rush of performing. The godlike power over the faceless minions. And then a
dark-haired woman, incongruously dressed in a deep purple business suit,
approaches from the crowd.
Priss's mind fills with confusion. Sylia?
What are you doing here? Sylia pauses in front of the stage, and smiles up at
her. A mother's smile, full of love and compassion.
And then a shift, and it is her mother's
smile. Her mother, as Priss best remembered her: tired after a long day at the office, but never without time for
her little musume, her little Priss-chan.
She feels the tears of joy start to form. "Mama..." she whispers, her heart
filling with indescribable joy at seeing her again. Alive and whole and smiling
all the love Priss thought she'd lost forever.
She basks in the infinite tenderness in
her mother's brown eyes; a frozen woman suddenly in the warmth of the sun. And
as she stares into those warm eyes, her mother raises the revolver, its dark
maw rising to a point just below them.
***
Linna was on the phone, arranging for an
extended leave of absence from her job, when the screaming began. Quite
literally hanging up on her boss, she sprinted for the back bedroom of the
'safe house', accompanied by the two TPD officers on duty.
Slamming the door open, the officers dove
into the room, weapons drawn, searching for an assailant. Linna, following hard on their heels, made
straight for the bed, where Priss sat bolt upright, staring blindly, shirt
soaked with sweat, face wet with tears.
While Linna tried to comfort her charge,
the officers gave the room a quick search, making sure all was as it should be.
"God, I hope _that_ doesn't happen too often," one said to the other
as they turned to leave.
"Hi Sylia, it's Nene," came the
voice-only message on the answering machine for Sylia's secure line. "I got stuck with a double shift again,
so I'm on dinner break. I guess I won't be able to make it over tonight. You
must still be over at Linna's. Geez, I hope Priss
took it
OK. I mean, she doesn't need any more worries right now. Well, anyway, just to
let you know, they haven't found him yet. I don't think they even know where to
start looking. I've got those searches
that we talked about running, but I don't know if they'll really do any
good."
Nene's message droned on, and Sylia
listened with only half an ear. This is _all_ my fault, she thought gloomily.
It almost happened again. It still might. I should have made her listen to me,
made her see reason. I should have gotten her out of town, even if I had to
drag
her out
by her hair!
The message clicked off, and Sylia sat
quietly in her dark apartment. She lit a cigarette, then ignored its presence
as several courses of action whirled through her mind. While she stared blindly into the darkness,
one plan in particular kept coming to the fore. It had the advantage of being simple, and stood an excellent
chance of success. Reaching back to the secure line, she entered a code, then
waited several rings for the connection to be made.
"It's me," she said rather
cryptically to the answering machine on the other end. "I need to hire
your services."
A week later, Nene came bursting into
Silky Doll, just at closing time. She waited impatiently while Sylia saw to her
remaining customers and closed the shop. "How many times have I told you
not to come in here like that?" Sylia chided her.
"They had him. They had him and they
lost him," Nene said angrily.
Sylia was frozen with shock for a moment.
"How....?" she finally managed.
"TPD got a tip Kusanagi was hanging
out at the American Bar and Grill. A couple guys went in undercover to check it
out, and he was there. They left to go get back-up, and when they came back, he
was gone. No one knows where he went." Nene wiped her sleeve across her
tearing eyes. "He's still on the street, and now we don't know anything
more than when we started!"
"Go on upstairs. I--"
"But Sylia--"
"I've got to meet someone. Go on
upstairs and get into TPD's evidentiary database. I want to see everything they
have on Kusanagi. Then call Linna. Ask her to be here in four hours."
Sylia turned and left through the back
entrance, leaving Nene standing alone in the middle of the store. "But
_Sylia..._"
Sylia slid onto a barstool at C'est la
Vie, a ratty bar located in the basement of a bedraggled downtown building. The
bartender placed a drink in front of her, and stepped away to tend his other
patrons. Sylia ignored the drink and lit a cigarette. "What
happened?"
"And a good evening to you too,
Sylia," the shaggy blonde man on the stool next to her replied.
"Cut the crap, Fargo, I want to know
what happened. You assured me there wouldn't be any problems."
Fargo took a sip of his drink, the glass
already half empty. "What can I say? They blew it." Sylia stared at him, then looked back down
at the bar and puffed silently on her cigarette. "I did what you
asked.
We found him and tipped-off TPD. They
sent in a couple clowns to check the place out. He was on to them the second
they hit the door." Fargo shook his head in disbelief at the ineptitude of
the Tokyo Police Department. "Instead of one calling for back-up while the
other kept an eye on him, they both left to get back-up, the idiots. As soon as
they left, he was out the back so fast, _my_ guy lost him."
"Can you find him again? I need to
know where he's spending his nights."
"Shouldn't be too much trouble. Why the interest?"
"I'll pay double if you can tell me
by tomorrow night." She stubbed out the remains of her cigarette, burned
to the filter, and stood to leave. Fargo caught her by the arm.
"You never answered my
question."
Sylia shook her arm free. "Let's just say I'm keeping a promise
to a friend."
"Did you have any trouble getting
away?" Nene's question gave Linna
a shivery sense of deja vu. It was
strangely reminiscent of one she had asked Priss weeks earlier, before all this
trouble began.
"No," she finally answered.
"Priss went to bed early, and, frankly, I was glad to have an excuse to
get away from there, even if it is just for the evening. Where's Sylia?"
Nene shrugged. "Computer Room, I guess. How's Priss doing? I haven't seen
her since she went into hiding."
"It's not hiding, Nene, it's
protective custody; you ought to know that," Linna said sharply. "Or, rather, that's what TPD keeps
telling us." They began to move down the hallway, deeper into Sylia's
apartment.
"Priss is... OK, I guess," Linna continued.
"She's still spending a lot of time resting, which is probably for the
best. And she's definitely looking better. But she's still having
nightmares. I think it's been weeks
since she's gotten more than one or two hours of continuous sleep."
Nene sighed and shook her head at the
state of affairs. She was about to reply when Sylia intercepted them at the
entrance to her living room. They were frankly shocked at her rumpled and
distraught appearance. "I'm sorry, but this is going to be a very short
meeting," she said, waving them toward the couch. "You're welcome to
stay afterward, but I've got something I need to finish work on
tonight."
The younger women sat as directed, and
looked on questioningly.
"Do you remember a few weeks ago,
when someone vandalized the building?" They nodded. "Well, he did more than just break a
few windows out. There was a message about Priss spray painted on the back
wall. Someone followed her here that
night, and got upset when she didn't come out immediately. I don't think we need
to wonder who it was anymore."
Sylia began to pace up and down the length of the room.
"It was obvious to me that someone
had taken more than a casual interest in her. I tried to get her to go out of
town until the police picked the guy up. They had the video from the security
monitors, after all. I thought it would be only a matter of a few days, but she
refused
to go, and I didn't force the issue. And because I didn't, some nutcase managed
to ruin her life, all in the name of 'love'." This last came out bitterly, and left Nene and Linna looking at
each other.
"Sylia," Nene began hesitantly,
"don't you think you're being a little hard on yourself? This wasn't your fault. You couldn't know--"
"That's the problem, Nene. I _did_
know. Some lunatic almost killed one of my family, just like before, and I let
him do it." She didn't see the
surprised looks on her audience's faces.
"I knew that whoever it was, he wasn't going to stop until he got
to her, I couldn't
do
anything to stop him, and I couldn't get her out of the way.
"I tried to correct things by going through official
channels. When Kusanagi got away from TPD, I hired someone to find him. They
did, and they tipped off TPD about where to find him. But TPD blew it and Kusanagi got away again." Sylia's voice gained a touch of steel.
"Well,
they had their chance. Now it's my turn."
"Excuse me?" Linna asked. Sylia
couldn't be thinking what she thought she was thinking. Could she?
"Tomorrow night I'm going to take
care of Kusanagi Rei. I want to make sure he never destroys anyone else's life,
ever again."
Nene was more than slightly alarmed.
"Sylia, aren't you being a bit extreme?
What you're talking about sounds like--"
"It's _exactly_ what it sounds
like," Sylia interrupted. Finally stopping her pacing, she dropped into
her lounge chair, running her fingers through her hair in agitation. She took a deep breath, and seemed to be
mentally gathering herself.
"Before I have to go, there's
something I would like you both to consider. I made certain promises to myself
about each of you when you joined the Knight Sabers. It doesn't matter to me
that what happened to Priss was unrelated to our activities; this is just
something I have to do." She
paused for a moment, and Linna thought that she had never seen Sylia so intense
about anything before.
"I'd like your help in this. But
keep in mind that what I'm planning for tomorrow is going to be very different
from our usual work. We won't be going out because of something Genom did. We
won't be going out against rogue boomers. We won't be going out against
Largo. Someone has harmed one of ours,
and we are going to avenge her. This is, purely and simply, personal
vigilantism." Sylia turned her full attention to Nene. "Consider this
carefully. I don't want you doing
anything that will put you against your oath as a police officer." She looked thoughtful, considering Sylia's
words.
Sylia stood once again and faced her
guests. "I'm sorry, as I said earlier, I have a project to complete
tonight. I know this is a difficult decision for you, but its one you have to
make for yourselves. I hope you can see your way clear to joining me without
any reservations." She looked her
two fellow Knight Sabers squarely in the eyes.
"Remember, this is strictly
voluntary. You don't _have_ to do this,
and I won't think any less of you if you don't come with me. But if you do
decide to come along, be in the suit room at midnight tomorrow."
TRUE LOVE
Part 6
"May I join you?"
Startled, Priss's head snapped up and
jerked around in incipient panic, immediately smothered, to stare at the figure
standing in the doorway. The bright
light streaming into the dark, empty room made it difficult to see who it was,
but after three years of working together the voice was unmistakable. "Come on in, Sylia." Priss rolled onto her back and sat up on the
bench as Sylia Stingray slipped quietly into the sauna. "Haven't heard
from you much lately. Must've been
pretty busy or something."
"Some things _have_ come up
recently..." Sylia replied, adjusting the towel she wore as she sat on the
bench next to Priss. "But I'm not here to talk about that. Takezaki-sensei
tells me you are doing well."
"Yeah. I got a little behind on my sessions since my keepers wouldn't
let me out until today. But Linna told them that Doc Takezaki said I had to
come by once a week, so they escorted me over. Real cloak and dagger stuff. His
people gave me some things I can do
back at
the apartment."
"Oh? Well, that's good. And how are things there? Are you getting
along all right?"
"Well, you know how it gets,"
she began, wondering why the sudden interest. Although Sylia hadn't exactly
_promised_ to keep in daily contact, she hadn't been exactly communicative
either. To be fair, though, Priss
thought, the TPD guys _were_ screening the
incoming
calls. Sylia could have been calling hourly and she probably wouldn't know it
unless someone remembered to tell her, or unless Sylia specifically asked to
talk with her.
While Priss described the monotonous
day-to-day life of someone in protective custody, Sylia half-listened with
feigned interest. She was much more interested in other things. Priss _was_ looking better, Linna was right
about that. In the week since she'd last seen her, she'd regained some of her
lost weight, and the pallor of a long illness was fading. Her voice seemed to
have finally settled down into something a little deeper than it had been, with
a rougher, gravelly edge. All in all, she looked like someone well on the road
to recovery.
Until you looked into her eyes.
Something in those red-brown eyes gave
Sylia pause. Priss had more demons to deal with than most people, and she
usually kept them under control. But, even considering what had happened to
her, there was something off... something fey lurking in the back of those
eyes...
and Sylia
suddenly realized just how close Priss was to going over the edge.
Sylia's own eyes hardened momentarily. That's
one more thing for you to atone for, you son of a bitch.
Priss didn't miss the sudden change in
Sylia's demeanor, and the equally sudden shift back. "OK, you didn't really come here to listen to me talk about
watching TV, did you?"
"I'm not allowed to ask how you
are?"
"You don't need to see me to find
out how I'm doing," Priss shot back. "What's happened now?"
Sylia gazed calmly back, assessing just
what she could and should tell her friend.
Midnight came and went.
The Lady 633 building was eerily quiet,
as if the world was holding its breath. Inside the Knight Sabers complex, Linna
Yamazaki slipped silently through the corridors. On reaching her destination,
she touched a control on the wall, and the door to the Knight Saber's suit
room slid
open.
Sylia, wearing a sweatsuit over her
softsuit, was already there, seated in front of the control panel for the main
diagnostic analyzer, apparently running her suit through some sort of test
sequence. Nene was performing a careful inspection her hardsuit's
externals. As the
door
opened, they both turned and nodded their welcome.
Linna gazed back soberly, her full
attention directed at Sylia. "I'm not going. What you're doing is
stupid."
"All right," Sylia replied,
looking a little disappointed as she went back to her work. Nene paused in her inspection, and turned to
watch the other two quietly.
Linna crossed the room and grabbed Sylia
by the arm, jerking her up out of her seat.
"Let the police handle it," she began dangerously. "I'm
not kidding about this, Sylia. He's scum, and he deserves whatever he gets, but
what you're planning is flat out _wrong_. And
if you
make one move to hurt him, to _really_ hurt him, I'm going to stop you."
The two locked eyes in a battle of wills,
only broken when Sylia motioned toward Linna's suit. "Then you'd better get ready, hadn't you?"
With an exasperated sigh, Linna let go of
Sylia's arm and stalked toward the change room, only to be halted by a hand on
her shoulder. "What are you--"
"Have you _really_ thought about
this, Linna, or are you just being a 'good citizen'?" Nene asked, a little
scornfully.
"What's _that_ supposed to
mean? She's talking about cold blooded
_murder!_"
"Yes, I know," came the quiet
reply.
"And?"
"I'm here, aren't I, Linna?"
"But, how can you stand for..."
Linna trailed off in confusion.
"Come on, let's sit down. There's
some things you need to know." Nene grabbed Linna's arm and dragged her to
a work bench, then sat cross-legged on top of it. After a moment of hesitation,
Linna sat on the edge, legs dangling over the side.
"First off, Sylia had me pull down
the evidentiary database TPD has on Kusanagi yesterday. I shouldn't have done
it, but I made a copy for myself and took it home to read. Sylia's right," she said with an
almost-snarl. "Something has to be done about Kusanagi, the
sooner,
the better. And, as much as I hate to say this, I don't trust anyone but us to
get it done."
She shifted in her seat, turning to face
Linna more directly. "He was keeping a diary, and it's really sick stuff.
And the first thing you need to know is that Priss wasn't the only woman he's
done this to... he's stalked like this. And it looks like she wasn't the only
one he's tried to kill either.
"The parts about Priss are pretty
much like the rest of it. He raves about how much he loves her, then he starts
on about how much she loves him too. Then he starts talking about people trying
to come between them, and what he was doing about it." Linna looked a
little
surprised,
so she elaborated, "That's right, not what he was _going_ to do about it,
but what he was actively _doing_."
She glanced over at Sylia. "There's an
entry the night 633 got trashed, about warning off demons. And then a little later there's an entry
about making sure the demons don't interfere any more."
"Kenji..." Linna breathed,
putting it all together for herself.
"Yes," Sylia agreed, turning
from the analyzer, "it seems to correspond to that time frame."
"And then," Nene continued, as
if she hadn't been interrupted, "comes the _really_ scary stuff. Things
about demons blinding Priss, and Priss leaving him, and him having to save her
from herself because he loves her."
"So he shot her," Linna said
flatly, and Nene nodded her agreement.
Linna stood and began to pace about the
suit room, a troubled look on her face. "OK. You're right, something's got to be done about him. But what
you're talking about... I don't know. He's sick; he needs help, not an
execution."
Nene hopped off the bench top and walked
over to Linna. "He's followed the same pattern, written the same things,
about _all_ the women, not just Priss. There were six of them, before her. And Linna... he killed or maimed all of
them."
While Linna pondered what Nene had said,
Sylia shut down the analyzer and joined her friends. "Priss isn't going to be able to sleep again until
something's done about him," Sylia said quietly.
Linna whirled on her, shocked.
"That's dirty Sylia. I thought better of you than that." The two stared at each other for another
long minute, and Nene waited for the silent struggle to come to a conclusion.
As she expected, Linna broke first. "You knew about this last night,
didn't you?"
Sylia nodded.
"And why didn't you say
anything?"
Sylia paused, the answer weighing heavily
on her. "Does knowing that he's done this several times make a
difference? This is for Priss, not
those others, and I don't want you involved if you have any doubts."
Caught between the Nene's facts and her
own conscience, Linna replied defensively, "You don't, do you? It seems to
me like you've been trying to manipulate me into agreeing to this." Sylia looked back, regret written on her
face.
"All right," Linna finally
decided. "I'll go, but only because I don't want you doing anything
stupid. I'm still not going to let you kill him," and the sweatsuited
woman nodded her acknowledgment.
Looking aside, Linna gave a small smile
to her red-headed colleague. "You can be pretty persuasive when you want,
can't you?" Nene grinned back, and returned to her suit to finish her
interrupted survey.
Linna turned her attention back to Sylia
and whispered, "I don't know how much longer I can take spending my nights
listening to Priss's nightmares, and my days of watching her go through hell.
And Nene's given me some things to think about." She sighed.
"Besides, there's the chance you might be right," she conceded.
Sylia smiled grimly, and took her
friend's hands in her own. "Shall we get started then?"
Nene Romanova wasn't happy. Running yet
another sensor sweep of the area, her sixth in the past half-hour, she heartily
wished that Sylia's informant had been able to come up with better information
on Kusanagi's location. But for tonight, he was only able to place him as
somewhere
within this warehouse area. That gave them 36 square blocks to cover, which was
too large for them to be able to search effectively and still be able to cover
each other. All they could do was run scans and wait for him to show himself.
"Still clear, Sylia," she
radioed. "If there's anybody here, I can't find them."
"Copy that," Sylia replied. She
wasn't any happier with the situation than Nene was. "How are you doing, Linna?"
"Trying to find someplace
comfortable to sit," came the grumbled response. The three Knight Sabers
were positioned on a roughly northeast-to-southwest line running through the
center of the six block by six block area.
Nene, at the mid-point, was tasked with scanning
the
entire area every five minutes. If she picked something up, Sylia, at the
northeast end, or Linna, at the southwest, would check it out.
"Yes, well, do the best you can, and
stay out of sight."
"Right. Sylia?"
"Yes, Linna?"
"What made you change your mind?
About tonight?" It was obvious to Linna that something dramatic had
happened to her friend since their meeting the previous night.
"I'm sorry," Sylia said,
answering an unspoken question first.
"Pardon me?"
"I'm sorry I led both of you on like
that in the suit room. Yes, I'd changed my mind about killing him before we met,
and I didn't tell either one of you. You were right when you said I'd been
trying to manipulate you. Both of you. I'd do this by myself if I had to,
but... I wanted you with me."
Linna considered Sylia's words in
silence. Although she, Nene, and Priss
had long ago realized that Sylia manipulated both people and situations to her
benefit, it was the first time she'd ever heard her actually admit to doing it.
That she _had_ admitted to it was out of
character
for her, Linna thought. And, considering further, Sylia had been acting
considerably out of character ever since Priss had been shot. It bothered her
that Sylia didn't seem to be herself anymore, and Linna wished she'd taken the
time to talk with Priss or Nene about it
before
coming here tonight. But Priss had her own problems to deal with, and there
hadn't been the time to really talk to Nene.
"That's all right," Linna
finally acknowledged, somehow knowing that some sign of acceptance from her
would ease the psychic burden Sylia had seemed to be dealing with in recent
days. "But why the change?"
Why indeed, Sylia thought to herself, and
then her thoughts drifted back to earlier in the day, back to the warm, damp
darkness of a sauna room. Back to her visit with Priss.
She had initially evaded Priss's
questions about what was happening, why she had suddenly decided to visit after
virtually ignoring her for a week. Especially when her mind was obviously not
on the visit. but as Sylia continued to evade Priss's increasingly pointed questions,
Priss became more and more agitated, her voice getting louder and louder.
Although time had granted healing to her injuries, some things were by no means
completely healed, and her abused vocal cords reacted predictably. Priss began
to cough, and couldn't stop.
An hour later found Priss and Sylia alone
in a treatment room. Priss was resting on a bed, while Sylia sat by her side,
telling her everything, as if seeking some form of redemption. The diary. The
attempt at recapture. Her plans for that night. Why she was going to kill
Kusanagi.
Priss began to weep, and Sylia took her
in her arms to comfort her. Unlike weeks earlier, though, Priss pulled away.
"I'm not crying for me," she had sniffled. "Or not just for me,
anyway. I'm crying for everyone else he's hurt too. Including you."
"What happened to me happened,"
Priss continued, swiping at her tear-filled eyes with a towel. "I don't have to like it, and I know my
head's still messed up over it, but it happened, and I'll deal with it. But
please, don't blame yourself. There was no way for you to have known for
certain what he'd do. Remember, you warned me, you told me to get out of
here. That's the best you could have
done. It isn't your fault that I didn't move fast enough."
Sylia had been surprised at Priss's
attempt to offer her comfort, and stared at the floor, tears in her own eyes, a
little ashamed of her own recent actions. But Priss wasn't finished yet.
"Losing your father must have been
rough. I know, I've lost people I considered family too." For a few seconds Priss seemed a long way
away from the here and now, her eyes were filled with old pains as she gazed at
something invisible in the distance. "You said
you want
to get Kusanagi because he hurt me, you couldn't stop him from doing it, and
you couldn't stand the idea of losing another family member that way."
Sylia looked at Priss in surprise; it was the first time she'd ever heard her
mention her assailant by name.
"I'm glad you feel that way about
me... about all of us, actually... But Sylia, there's no reason for you to beat
yourself up over what happened. Mason knew what he was doing when he killed
your father; Kusanagi is your run-of-the-mill stalker. In this city alone,
there are thousands just like him. Much as we'd like, we can't be responsible
for cleaning up every piece of garbage in this town. How many times have you
told us that? Sylia, Kusanagi's small potatoes compared to what Mason could do.
Mason was worth taking out. Kusanagi'll make a mistake sometime, and then he'll
get his. You going after him... well, I appreciate the thought, but it's just
not worth it."
Sylia was staring openly at Priss by this
time, and she laughed softly. "I know, me telling you not to do this
sounds weird, especially considering some of the stunts I've pulled in the
past. What was it you said that time you guys went with me when I was so hot to
get Mason after Sho's mother was killed? 'We're doing this to preserve the
Knight Sabers Organization'? If you have to, think of _not_ killing Kusanagi in
the same way. I'd hate to have to execute you for breaking rules 2 and 3."
And then Priss had smiled and held out
her arms, and embraced the openly weeping Sylia in a gentle hug. Priss was the
only person likely to really understand what she was going through, and as
Sylia had told Priss what she was feeling, and why, it felt as if a great
weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Yes, there was still a niggling
doubt that Priss was wrong, that it _was_ necessary to wipe Kusanagi from the
face of the earth, but
reason
prevailed. Priss was right when she'd said that they couldn't be responsible
for everything that happened. Even when it concerned one of their own.
Back in the present, Sylia looked down at
the blue right arm mounted on her white hardsuit and smiled to herself. She'd
spent most of the last 24 hours dismounting the right arm from Priss's suit,
including the railgun, and mounting it on her own suit's right arm.
She had
transferred her own right arm weaponry to her left. In her initial plans, using
Priss's weapons against Kusanagi was going to be the 'coup de grace.' By the
time she'd left Priss that afternoon, there hadn't been time to change things
back. So she'd finished the
modifications
and adjustments, and hoped she wouldn't need to use it.
In an odd way, it was nice to have it
here, though. It was almost like a part
of Priss was with them.
"Why did I change my mind about
tonight?" Sylia repeated Linna's question. "Let's just say that I
don't feel the same way anymore. You see, I've been granted absolution."
TRUE LOVE
Part 7
"Sylia," Nene called out a
couple hours later, "I'm getting something. One target, looks to be on
foot, moving in this direction."
"Finally," Sylia muttered under
her breath. "Where?"
"Coming almost directly for Linna's
position. If she takes a look over the edge and off to the right she should be
able to see whoever it is."
"Linna?"
"I'm on it." Linna eased out of her position between a
ventilation intake and a sign depicting a boy, two girls, and a small black
pig, advertising the 50th anniversary revival of some old anime series.
After staring at the sign for so long,
Linna wasn't the slightest bit interested in seeing it. Once clear of her
position, she crouched down and duck-walked to near the edge of the roof. She then lay flat, and eased herself
forward, to a point where she could see easily over the side without being
seen.
"Nene, how far out?"
"On the street, about 200 meters out
and closing."
Linna looked in the indicated direction,
her helmet's night vision gear helping immensely in the dark. Once she knew where to look, she had no
trouble picking her target out from the parked and abandoned vehicles clogging
the side street. "OK, I've got him. One person, pushing a motorcycle. Must
have had some sort of breakdown. I'm magnifying now, and.... It's him, Sylia. And he's got his bike
loaded down with bundles of something. That's why he's not riding, he's so
overloaded there's no room for him."
"Right. Keep an eye on him Linna.
Nene and I are coming over."
"Check."
Kusanagi Rei pushed his heavily laden
motorcycle along the street near the abandoned warehouse he'd recently taken
residence in. He'd been busy that night; he'd been given many gifts by his new
love, and he was feeling good. All he had to do was stay clear of those
ludicrous
buffoons in the Tokyo Police Department for a while and things would be fine.
Turning a corner, he stopped short.
Standing in front of him was what had to be an apparition: a white clad form,
clearly mechanical, with short wings on its back. It stood unmoving in the middle of the road, featureless face
staring at him.
Hearing a sound behind him, he look
around to see another of these creatures appear from the shadows, this one in
red. Glancing back the way he had
originally come, he saw a form in green drop from the sky. He looked off to his left, expecting to see
yet another of these
creatures,
but that way remained clear.
The form in white spoke. "Kusanagi
Rei, your time is over. For destroying the lives of Aoki Yohko, Priscilla
Asagiri, Carmelita Chang, Irina Grichinko, Matsui Megumi, Elaine Reed, and
Watanabe Naoko, you are to come with us."
His heart began to pound, and his hand
darted into his jacket pocket, coming out with a gun. The creatures, or whatever they were, stiffened, but did not
otherwise move. He fired at the white creature, missing all three shots.
Its response was to step closer, echoed
by its companions.
His response was to abandon his
motorcycle and run off down the opening they had left him. The creatures watched him go.
"All right, ladies, next position
please."
Kusanagi pounded down the dark roadway.
These things, these demons, were everywhere!
Wherever he turned, they appeared. From behind cars. From out of the
shadows. Dropping out of the sky. He'd shot at them, but they wouldn't go away.
He had no idea if he'd even managed to hit one. He'd cursed at them, and they just looked back, staring with
those blank faces. The one in white was the only one that spoke, and all it
ever said was "your time is over". It was unnerving.
He had to get away from them, he thought,
as he turned into yet another dark alley.
They had him where they wanted him.
Buildings hemmed him in on three sides, and there was nowhere for him to go.
Kusanagi didn't seem to realize it: he was attempting to scale the sheer face
of the wall at the rear.
Sylia slowly walked forward, flanked
closely by Linna and Nene. They came to a halt about ten feet from him and
stood quietly, watching his struggles. Finally he stopped, and turned to face
them, the wall to his back.
Funny, Linna thought, he doesn't look
like a murderer. He looks a little like Leon, in a skinny sort of way.
"Haven't you interfered
enough?" he shouted at them.
Sylia blinked. "Why?" was her
strangled reply.
"You people keep interfering. I find
someone to love, and you try to take them away from me!"
"That's no reason to kill
them!"
"They were _mine! And you people
took them away from me! I had to free
them from you, so we could be together. Well, you're never going to interfere
with us again!" He brought his gun
up, firing his last round. It struck Linna in the head, and she dropped to her
knees, falling like a stone. Her fellow Knight Sabers immediately raised their
weapon arms, locking on their mutual target, and one fired.
While Kusanagi screamed in agony, a
railgun bolt pinning him to the wall through his left shoulder, Linna struggled
back to her feet.
"Sylia, NO!" she cried
out. "It's not worth it!"
Linna's words brought Sylia up short. She
stood frozen, arm upraised and locked on target, but unable to fire again.
Linna staggered to her friend's side, and forced the blue armored arm back
down. "You don't want to do something you'll regret later, do you?"
Sylia was appalled with herself. All her
promises to Priss, and she'd almost thrown them out the window because of an
unthinking reflex action.
"Linna, are you all right?"
Nene called out, her attention still focused on the writhing form on the wall.
"Yeah, I'm fine. He just knocked me
off balance." God, I'm going to have a headache, she thought through the
pain already pulsing through her head.
"Nene," Sylia said softly over
her internal comms, "please get him down. See how bad it is. Linna, help her."
This has all been too much, Sylia mused
as she watched her companions deal with the wounded man. I _must_ be tired; I should never have fired
at him in the first place. I need a
break. I wonder how Mackie's doing? Maybe I should take a vacation and pay him
a visit.
Sylia crossed to where Kusanagi now sat,
leaning against the wall, Nene crouched over him. She looked up at her leader's approach. "Doesn't look too bad," Nene commented over her
external speakers. "It looks like it went through cleanly. I'm no expert,
but it probably
looks
worse than it is."
"Fine," the white Knight Saber replied over her own
speakers as she looked over at Linna's green clad form. There was a scrape mark
dead-center on Linna's helmet visor, and she was leaning against the same wall
as Kusanagi, looking a little shaky. Switching back to the
internal
communication system, Sylia said, "Nene, go get into your Motoroid power
armor. We'll wait here."
Nene acknowledged her instructions, and
jetted down the alleyway.
Sylia turned to face Linna. "How are
you doing?" she asked simply.
"My head hurts like a
son-of-a-gun," she admitted. "I'd like to get out of this armor and
go lie down somewhere."
Sylia was a little alarmed at her
admission. Being a dancer, Linna was used to working through pain that would
sideline lesser mortals.
"You take it easy then, and I'll get
you out of here as soon as Nene comes back. And no arguments."
Linna, who had her mouth open, ready to
debate that order, just smiled a little and nodded. It was beginning to look like the Sylia she knew was trying to
make a return.
Several minutes later, a muted roar from
up the alley attracted their attention. Nene was returning, not only wearing
her power armor, but accompanied by Sylia's and Linna's Motoroids on remote
control.
She brought them to a halt in front of their owners, then landed
herself.
"Good thinking, Nene," Sylia
said. "Linna's injured, and I need to have her checked out. Can you drop our 'friend' here off at TPD by
yourself?"
Linna started to protest, but Nene's
response overrode her. "Sure, no problem. I don't think he'll cause any
trouble." She glared at Kusanagi,
still huddled around himself, and his injured shoulder, on the ground. It
looked as if all trace of fight had left him.
Sylia mounted her Motoroid, motioning for
Linna to do the same. "Fine. We'll
be off then. I'll see you back at
base." They triggered the ignition sequences, and rode off, side by side.
Nene watched them go, then turned to face
her prisoner, switching back to external comms. "Get up," she ordered, pointing the Motoroid's cannon
at him. Kusanagi struggled to his feet.
"Come over here."
"What are you going to do with
me?" he asked.
"Take you to TPD. Come over
here." He crossed to in front of the Motoroid, and stood facing her.
"Turn around."
When he complied, she slung the cannon,
then roughly shoved him around, and picked him up, her Motoroid's right arm
under his knees, its left arm around his shoulders. They launched into the air,
and she triggered the autopilot to take them to their destination, across the
Canyons
and into the city. Five more minutes and it's over, she thought to herself.
"You know," he said
conversationally, his courage apparently returning, "this is
ridiculous." She didn't respond.
"They don't have any evidence to convict me, because I didn't do anything
wrong."
"You think not? Then why did you run
off?" Nene replied coolly.
"They didn't have any right to hold
me. It's nothing anyone else wouldn't do. So why are _you_ doing this to
me?"
"Shut up," she snapped,
squeezing her Motoroid's left fingers a little tighter around his arms, and,
not so incidentally, around his wounded left shoulder. He groaned a little, and
took the hint. But his comments, indeed his entire attitude, had her thinking.
Nene remembered how angry her father had been, back when she was in Junior
High, when the government had finally caved in to outside pressure and changed
the penal code. Under the old rules, Kusanagi would be facing at least 50 years
confined to a tiny cell, allowed out once a day, with no hope of parole. If he
was lucky he would have been executed. Now, though, the emphasis was on
rehabilitation
instead of punishment. Due to prison overcrowding, unless it was proven that he
was a murderer he was going to be on the street again in two years, tops. All
he had to do was keep his nose clean...
She'd seen the evidence against him;
except for Priss's case, there wasn't much that was admissible in court. The
diary entries of an obvious madman didn't make for the best evidence.... He's
going to get away with it, she suddenly realized. And when he's out, he'll just
do it again. If it's not Priss he goes
after, it'll just be someone else.
Not for the first time, Nene Romanova
felt the impotent rage of a cop betrayed by the system. This time, though, it was personal, and
something deep inside her snapped.
They were now 100 meters over the
Canyons, the great rift left behind by the Second Kanto Earthquake of 2025.
Nene switched the Motoroid back to manual control, allowing it to tip forward
into a more horizontal flight mode. Her cargo started to slide forward on the
slick metal plating of the Motoroid's arms at the change in flight attitude. She
released the grip that the mech had on him, and watched silently as Kusanagi
Rei, still reaching out for the non-existent grasp of the Motoroid's arms,
pulped into the rough terrain at the bottom of the
Canyons.
"That was for Priss, you son of a bitch."
The End
For those
who have never read them:
The Eleven Regulations of the Knight Sabers
1.
Do not divulge any information concerning this organization.
2.
Do not act upon a personal grudge.
3. Do
act upon the mutual consent of all the members.
4.
Do not secede from this organization.
5.
Members are personally responsible for any damage done to the
organization's
equipment unless that damage was unavoidable.
6.
Do not divulge any information concerning our clients.
7.
Do not gather information on your own.
The task of intelligence-
gathering
is to be distributed evenly among all the members.
8.
Do keep in contact with the other members regularly.
9.
The members do not know each other outside of this
organization.
10.
Do not get involved with a man.
11.
The penalty for violating any of the ten regulations listed above is
death.
-- From the B-Club Visual Comic
"Bubble Gum Crisis '89"
Translated by Dan Su, Anime Berkeley
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