Bubblegum Crusade (Ch. 4 of 24)
Jul. 9th, 2009 11:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fanfic_mausoleum_n_grill
Insert nonstandard disclaimer here. Here we go. Yes, yes; the back half
of this chapter is all new stuff. The adaptation part is over.
Chapter Four
WASURENAIDE (Don't Forget)
On lonely nights,
Remember that you've got a friend,
Who waits for you unchangingly.
The dazzling smiles you gave me
Are locked away like treasures,
In the jewelbox of my heart.
That night, crying, you and I
Gazed up at the stars.
And I wanted to protect you
From everything that hurts you.
"Don't stop, baby, dreaming"
"Don't stop, baby, loving"
"Don't stop, babe, believing"
Don't forget...
"Don't stop, baby, dreaming"
"Don't stop, baby, loving"
"Don't stop, babe, believing"
I will always love you...
...Even though we're far apart.
"Don't stop, baby, dreaming"
"Don't stop, baby, loving"
"Don't stop, babe, believing"
Don't forget...
"Don't stop, baby, dreaming"
"Don't stop, baby, loving"
"Don't stop, babe, believing"
That I'm here...
I'll always be by your side.
Priss and the Replicants -- The bootleg tapes.
Mega-Tokyo, April, 2034
"The end is beginning for foolish mankind and they don't
even realize it." Largo's hatred threatoned to shatter the
confines of his glass prison. "This ostentatious city they
created with the technology they produced, will be destroyed by
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the harvest of seeds they themselves have planted. And then I
will create a world with neither gods nor devils. Sylia, let me
show you our utopia, controlled through terror and chaos. It
will be wonderful.
I wonder, are you capable of guarding against it? Will it
be you or I?
Sylia, I give thanks to our father, Dr. Stingray. He gave
me this immortal body, and a wonderful AI.
I have been reborn, so that I may kill you...as you did to
me. My mind transferred into an AI and my flesh into a boomer.
My former self, Mason, died at your hands, but not before I
combined with Dr. Stingray's prototype, who existed all those
years in a state of grace that now fuels me.
Let us enjoy our final battle together in the few moments
remaining before the reactor goes up."
* * *
In December of '33, the Knight Sabers defeated a GENOM
scientist turned terrorist when he tried to take over and destroy
the AD Police building in an effort to prove his brilliance.
This ultimately proved to be the successful field test for
the new hardsuits Sylia completed for herself, Linna, and Nene;
Priss's hardsuit had been completed early and saved her when she
battled Largo at the GENOM Tower.
From that engagement to the assassination attempt on Sylia
HOUGH/CRUSADE-94
in early February, engineered Dr. Katia Toshiro and her prototype
panther boomer, the Knight Sabers combated a string of boomer
violence leveled at Mega-Tokyo in general. Sylia's injuries in
the assassination attempt prompted them to take a hiatus from
their activities. Once on hiatus, Sylia decided a longer break
was necessary to facilitate extensive modifications and
remodeling to the Knight Saber's headquarters in Sylia's
building.
By the end of March, the rebuilding was completed and the
Knight Sabers returned to action. This was just as there was
some talk between Priss, Linna, and Nene about disbanding. They
hadn't seen any action in over two months, and Sylia hadn't been
seen in over a month.
Sylia returned to Mega-Tokyo and immediately the Knight
Sabers were involved in the protection of several new boomer AI
programs developed by Dr. Haynes, one of Dr. Stingray's former
assistants.
The theft of these programs was only the opening gambit in
the continuing battle between Largo and Sylia.
The closing campaign of the battle was fought at the Mega-
Tokyo Fusion Reactor, located in Tokyo bay. As a boring machine
ground its way through the layers of reinforced concrete and
steel towards the reactor core; as the Knight Sabers engaged
three monstrous D-series boomers in the wake of the machine,
Sylia confronted Largo inside the boring machine.
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"Sylia......Sylia......Sylia......" The voice reverberated
through the dimly lit corridor she moved confidently down. Sylia
blasted a closed hatchway and continued towards the main control
room of the boring machine. "Welcome, Sylia," said the voice.
The hatchway into the control room slid open as Sylia
approached. The control room had been altered to the point were
anything human, a chair at a control panel, the control panels
themselves, vid' screens, anything remotely connected with
humanity had been removed to make room for Largo. He stood in
the middle of the room, in a rejuvenation tank. Largo's finely
crafted body was covered with support circuitry, running to it
from the sides of the tank. This circuitry radiated outward from
the tank into the very fabric of the room.
"It seems the time has come for the showdown," said Largo.
"It does, doesn't it."
"Will it be you who controls Mega-Tokyo, or...?"
"I don't want control," said Sylia.
"Then that means we can join forces. Come in Sylia."
Sylia stopped just inside the doorway and then took several
steps into the room. "I didn't come here to talk."
"Sylia Stingray."
"Largo." She leveled her palmblaster at him.
"Why not manipulate the world as you will, together, with
me?"
Sylia opened fire on the main cables radiating outward from
Largo's tank. Sylia stopped firing when Largo began to blur and
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distort. It was a holographic image. When it vanished, Largo
stood revealed in his tank. The finely sculptured body was gone.
He was a gray/blue mass that appeared in the human form. The
only detail to his body was a lumpy texture; his mass seamed to
be unraveling into the liquid of the tank. Largo's one eye
burned with a red hot intensity in his leering broken face.
"So you mean to kill me, no matter what. Too bad, Sylia.
Would you show me your face one last time? Please?"
Sylia's helmet slid soundlessly apart to reveal her face.
"Largo...or perhaps I should call you Mason...you are the devil's
own son. Stop this monstrosity at once."
"Sylia, even now you are beautiful. That armored suit is
unbecoming to you. Even without it, you, like me, are a life
form that is neither human nor boomer, but superior to both.
That is why I should have killed you 17 years ago, along with Dr.
Stingray. That was a mistake, the only one I ever made...but it
was my biggest. What's wrong Sylia? Time's running out.
Sylia aimed her palmblaster at Largo's tank and blew it
apart. As the liquid swirled about her feet, one of Largo's arms
fell off.
"I didn't want you to see me like this. I wonder if you
knew...that ever since that day, 17 years ago, I have loved you,
Sylia."
The blade slide from its housing on the top of her right
forearm. She cleanly sliced off Largo's head to the nose.
"Sylia.." said the mouth as the metal of his body turned
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liquid to reform a new head. "..now you will become one with
me...Sylia." Tendrils emerged from Largo's body and rushed at
her. The tendrils knocked her down and started to immobilize her
by flowing over her in waves of liquid metal.
"Noooooo...." she screamed as she fought to get away.
"Sylia....become one with me."
Sylia began to grow dizzy and her body grew difficult to
control. Her sight was dominated by the red eye of Largo,
blazing with fire in front of her face. She closed her eyes, but
the red eye was still there in her mind. She felt herself
submerge beneath the waves of liquid metal. The terror rose,
howling like the terror of a girl who had just lost her father.
She remember the dream from when she lost her father and the
shadow approached her mind, demanding admittance. She fought
with the shadow in a realm of shadows, were he had strength that
was always renewed and she lost energy by the second. She
screamed as a white hot swirl of darkness blasted into her mind,
leaving her shaking on a plain of blue.
It was a moment before Sylia could collect herself. She
stood on a blue geometric plain that stretched for a Km. in every
direction and then stopped at a shear drop off. She was in her
hardsuit; clouds reflected in the polished blue she stood upon.
"You and I are light and shadow, two sides of the same coin.
Open your heart to me, Sylia."
Sylia could barely summon the strength to stand; she found
no words to speak.
HOUGH/CRUSADE-98
"You too should realize that mankind exists to one day
destroy itself."
Sylia heard the popping metal, the cracking of circuity as
her hardsuit was pealed off of her from the bottom up. In
seconds she stood naked on the plain and looked around since that
weight was gone. She saw the shadow take Largo's form, but the
form didn't hold; it shifted to Mason, then to the form of the
prototype cyberdroid, which combined with Mason to form Largo.
His was a well sculpted body again.
"That's it, open your eyes, Sylia."
Largo began to radiate with white light that blinded Sylia.
She turned away; the light and the plain of blue was gone. She
floated among the stars.
"I surpassed both human and boomers and thus I came to
know..."
She floated towards a speck that rapidly grew larger. It
was the Earth and she saw the sun rising behind.
"Mankind will likely befoul and destroy this beautiful
planet. No civilization will remain afterwards. Would that
satisfy you? Is that what your father hoped for? I think not.
We boomers should succeed the civilizations of mankind. We can
go on living, regardless of how the environment may change. My
sister, do you not find that wonderful?"
"We would live forever," whispered Sylia.
"We would be mother and father to our race, knealing before
the image of our father in a paradise of our own design. The
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cycle of man is over, and their fruit we shall reap."
Sylia knelt before a statue of her father. She felt Largo
kneel right beside her. The statue was 30 meter tall, was made
of a black substance that gleamed and reflected with an inner
fire of creation.
"Sylia," screamed Priss.
Sylia jerked as she heard her name. She felt Priss's mind
somewhere close. Priss was in pain, but it only fueled her rage
that radiated through Sylia.
"Sylia," screamed Linna. Linna was fighting down her own
pain with determination.
"Sylia," screamed Nene. Nene was shaking with pain and a
fear that centered on what was going to happened to Mega-Tokyo if
they didn't beat these bastards.
Largo tried to block their presence but other parts of
himself were in the process of pulling them into himself. This
contradiction helped break the sensual haze Sylia was floating
in. Sylia's naked frame became chilled as she knelt before her
father. Sylia knees began to hurt from this position. The pain
she felt from her friends ripped through her. She felt their
pain, her own, and Largo's fantasy world shattered when she
screamed to be human.
Sylia opened her eyes and looked out the face plate of her
hardsuit. Largo stood above her. She started to fire.
"Sylia, don't do this. Stop," cried Largo before his mouth
was blown away. Sylia fired and fired. Largo fell into pieces
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as she turned to all of the computer equipment for the control
room, firing away. She went back and forth between the control
room and Largo's form which tried to reform, again and again.
Sylia felt the machine grind to a halt and when she was
confident that it couldn't go any farther, she slipped the
plastic disk of C-20 out from the back of her hardsuit. She
tossed it into the goo that was very slowly reforming into Largo;
she ran.
The blast tore the control center to pieces, shredding the
armored plating that surrounded it, dispersing the metallic goo
into a thin sheen that clumped here and there in the debris.
* * *
Sylia sat by a window in her bedroom, looking out at Mega-
Tokyo; she slowly sipped another cup of hot tea and watched the
city as dawn approached. It would still be an hour before they
showed up to take her to MTX for the flight to Germany. She had
promised Mackie to come and see him and Dr. Geary when their
latest case was over. Dr. Geary had been one of Dr. Stingray's
lab assistants; he was continuing in her father's footsteps, to
create a boomer more like humanity.
Sylia hadn't slept much that night. When she tried, she was
immediately being submerged in liquid metal. It was the ancient
dream from her childhood, combining itself with her recent
encounter
HOUGH/CRUSADE-101
Fools, she thought. What a fool I am. She laughed at her
own stupidity and then stared glumly out the window. Our oldest
dream is the creation of life. Century by century there has
always been the need to create the next generation and to dream
of the other race. Elves, dwarfs, fairies, space monsters, Gods
in the form of man, the other. The other has fascinated us and
then we saw the dream of the other race turn into something that
might be achieved with FRANKENSTEIN. But we saw how monstrous
our creation could become; nothing but monsters could come from
the hand of mankind. When did I, ROBOT come out? I can't
remember. For the first time the dream of the other seemed like
something that could happen. The fools have told me all my life,
told us for 50 years that sentience was impossible. The
supercomputers would become fast and powerful, but they couldn't
become alive. True; there has been no HAL 9000 and I doubt if
there ever will be. And yet, the boomers did. In the form of
humanity, they became alive.
I....Wanted....To Be...Free...Like...You........
Sylvie's last words. A boomer that wanted freedom. Sylvie
is still a subject that Priss can't talk about and its been close
to nine months. Anri gave her life for Priss. My dear brother
is in Germany, helping a man try to make the boomers more human.
God, what fools we are. Sylia sighed and finished off another
cup of tea. What Priss told me about Adama confirms it. Adama
had only been operating for less than a month and it was already
sounding human. The programming is beautiful, now that I know
HOUGH/CRUSADE-102
what and how to look for it. Dear God, father, you were a
genius. His programming would take them into sentience slowly,
proceeding through various level of awareness. Dr. Haynes's work
combined perfectly with my father's to just speed up the process.
What would that be like? To just wake up suddenly, without going
through layers of awareness.
They want me to help them with their project. Should I? To
be the mother of a new race. This is what Largo wanted. This is
what the fools in the scientific community would want. This is
what GENOM has kept a lid on for ten, fifteen years, since my
father's death. The Tai-Pan is afraid of the other race. He
should be. They program a machine for violence, it become
sentient, and they wonder when it becomes violent. What a farce.
The AD Police was specially created to combat berserk,
malfunctioning boomers; what a malfunction, becoming sentient.
Sylia laughed. Oh God, such fools. GENOM has done its best
to bury the teck' inside itself and forget it. Largo had to use
the Haynes AI to infect the new R-class boomers with sentience.
GENOM must have finally stripped my father's programing out of
their programming matrix, because the boomers have become quieter
in the past few months. The older renegade boomers have been
hunted down and destroyed; the new boomers don't have the right
programs so they are nothing but machines, exactly what GENOM
wants.
Sylia looked over at her packed suitcase. On top of it was
a briefcase, specially lined to protect sensitive data. Sylia
HOUGH/CRUSADE-103
had put a copy of the Adama programs and a copy of what she had
of her father's original programs in the briefcase.
""To be or not to be?" Indeed. "That is the question.""
* * *
Mega-Tokyo, November, 2033
It was an exceptionally hot night in November when Priss and
the Replicants played their last set together.
Yama asked Priss to show up at The Hot Legs early, there was
something they should discuss. So when she peeled in at 9:45 pm,
she found the other five members of the band, not counting her
backing-vocals who hadn't arrived yet, waiting for her by the
back door.
"Yo, what's up," called Priss.
Nobody said anything as Priss walked over to them. Yama
took another swig of Jack Daniel's and passed the bottle to her.
"You go'en to tell me what this is about," said Priss after she
took a drink.
"Jen's promotion came through," said Gota, Priss's drummer.
"We're..go'en to Kyoto at the end of the month. I'm sorry, but I
got to go, Priss."
"Don't be sorry Gota." Priss took another drink and flexed
her left knee. "We do what we got to, that's all. I'm glad Jen
got that promotion. From what you've said, she deserves it."
HOUGH/CRUSADE-104
Priss glanced around at the rest of the band. They were all
looking down at the ground, shuffling about, or avoiding eye
contact with Priss. "So what the fuck else is up. Yama, spill
it."
Yama hesitated. "Matoci is go'en to sign with EMI; he wants
the Abyss and me to join him."
"I see," said Priss. She took another swig.
"I mean..." started Yama. "We have nothing against you
Priss. Shit, we're fuck'en hot and everybody knows it, but..."
"But?"
"This gig at the Hot Legs has been great, but..."
"Money," said the Abyss.
Priss turned to stare at him. "Money."
"I don't see how you do it Priss," said Yama. "I figured it
out the other day. From the money I get work'en this place, it
doesn't last me over 18 days out of a month. Usually less. We
all have second jobs, all but you. This is our chance."
"But not mine," said Priss. She drained the bottle and then
smashed it on the ground. "So EMI's signed Matoci. You know he
won't last."
"At least he'll have a shot," said The Abyss. "Which is
more than you'll ever have. We've done a bunch of check'en
around town. Nobody will record you even though you'd be number
one within a month. And since nobody will touch you, they won't
get near us."
"EMI's blacklisted you Priss."
HOUGH/CRUSADE-105
"I know Yama, I know."
"The blacklisting has gone so far as verbally telling Half
Moon Disks not to record you. Shit, for EMI to verbally order a
nothing independent label to not record you, with the threat of
being squashed if they do....man, what did you fuck'en do to get
EMI that pissed?"
Toshiba/EMI is owned by GENOM, thought Priss.
"I understand if you don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry
Priss."
"Fuck'en thanks Yama. What about you two?" Priss looked
over at Jay and Sonada, the other two members in her band.
"I've just been doing this for fun; you know that." Jay
shook his head slowly as he spoke. "When we break, I doubt if
I'll be involved again."
Sonada shrugged. "I've bounced from one gig to the next. I
might as well split as well."
"So that's it. You've all decided and it's a done deal
already. Fuck, thanks for including me in the process."
"You want me to say I'm sorry, Priss? Fuck," yelled Yama.
"I'm sorry, but we've got a shot at getten out of here. The Hot
Legs is a great place to start, maybe even to finish, but to
never go beyond...just because of something someone else did,
that doesn't even have any connection to me."
"Always think'en about your stomach and not about your art."
"Ah, Priss. Don't give me any of that shit about starving
artists. That's for when you have dreams about make'en it. Not
HOUGH/CRUSADE-106
when you know you can't. We're the best in town Priss, but it's
over. Just over."
"Just like that..." Priss lapsed into silence.
"Well?" Yama said after an uncomfortable minute of
listening to the current band on stage.
"I was just thinking about your joke that stuck to our band.
Priss and the Replicants." Priss sighed softly. "Well, it was
bound to happen Yama. I've known that I couldn't get shit in
this town, even though we deserve it. I wouldn't want to fuck
your chances up if something like this came along. I knew it
would; I'm surprised this hasn't happened already. When ya
go'en?"
"Matoci wants us in two days," said the Abyss.
"Tonight," said Yama. "Let's tear this fuck'en place apart.
Let's fuck'en tear'em apart Priss. One last time."
Priss laughed. "I should kill you, you bastard. Let's do
it. Let's do it. Let's make'em fuck'en sorry. We're the best
band in Mega-Tokyo and we're gonna prove it again. Come on."
They broke out another bottle of Jack Daniel's and went to
set up.
A story above them, the owner of the Hot Legs lit another
Havana and closed the open window to his office. He moved
stiffly down the hall to the sound/control room and began
checking his recording equipment. That idiot Sonada called it
right, he thought. This is one performance I'm not going to
miss, no matter what EMI says about Priss. He ran a finger along
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a row of disks, all perfectly alligned and hand lettered. The
kanji on their spines read: Priss and the Replicants.
At 11:05 pm the crowd was chanting for Priss and the
Replicants. Priss tugged at the duct tape that held the handle
on her guitar case, flexing her right hand. She had argued with
the Doctors after her battle with Largo. They had wanted to give
her a cyberdroid arm since it would've been cheaper and faster
that way. Priss had refused and Sylia back her decision. The
reconstruction surgery had been successful and Priss had lost
less than 5% moveability and flexibility in her hand. Since she
was right handed, the loss of 5% didn't affect her playing at
all.
Priss and the Replicants went on at 11:07 pm, playing until
2:40 am. During the second encore, Priss finally summoned the
courage to play WASURENAIDE. The band had practiced it but never
played it; Priss just couldn't because it meant so much to her.
As she played her opening guitar solo, she thought about Sylvie
and the long days laying around in a jammed hospital. The final
total in casualties alone, from the orbital satellite discharges,
was over 5,000. Priss was counted as just another casualty in an
unfortunate accident that shook the Japanese government to the
highest levels. She laid there and listened to the reports about
how this was shaking the Government and laughed bitterly as
nothing was said about GENOM on the news.
To write this song, was to fully examine what she believed
in. There had been all the other deaths in her past and none of
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them set her to thinking about religion. They died and she
cried, to scream in anger and swear bloody vengeance a moment
later, or vise versa.
Priss laid in the hospital bed and agonized over the words
and the music. It was the most difficult song she ever wrote and
she was quite stunned when she became conscious of the crowds'
reaction. Priss stood basking in the glow of the lights, basking
in their thunderous applause.
As she said good night to the crowd, Priss felt that
somehow, she had gotten it right. The crowd somehow knew the
truth about the song, Priss thought. They loved it; they agreed
with what my song said. So maybe Sylvie and I will meet again
some day.
Priss collapsed into an ancient fold-out lawn chair that was
pre-turn-of-the-century. It had been sitting backstage forever.
The owner commented once to Priss that it was there when he first
bought the place 20 years ago.
She just sat and thought about the song and how GENOM worked
it to screw her over. Lay the blame with GENOM, she thought.
They're responsible for most of the other shit that happens in
town, so why not this to? The former band members packed and
left one by one. The Abyss said: "See ya around." Priss didn't
respond. Yama stopped to say something but just shook his head
and walked away.
It was close to 7:00 am when Priss rolled to a stop at her
HOUGH/CRUSADE-109
place and just sat on her bike, staring at the ground for a few
minutes before pushing the machine into her place. She didn't
bother with a light; full daylight filtered in through the cracks
in the spots were the metal was rusted out. She stripped off a
layer of cloths as she staggered towards the bed and crashed.
Normally, with all that she had drunk since the Hot Legs closed,
just laying there for a few minutes would've put Priss right to
sleep. Tonight her mind whirled its drunken way in chaotic
circles, unable to settle into sleep.
It dawned on her that the sheets felt cool, down right
chilly, so she reached for the blanket she had wadded up and
thrown to the floor.
She asked herself over and over: why did I fuck that guy
tonight? A walking dildo, she thought a moment later. The
assessment startled her before she rolled over and howled with
laughter into her pillow. How many men hovered around me
tonight? She asked herself. How many did I simply not pay any
attention to, so they would just go way?
By 3:35 am., Priss was headed to a party she knew about.
Most of the people there were at the Hot Legs previously, so
things were just getting go'en by the time Priss arrived. She
usually didn't go to these types of things, but tonight she
didn't want to be alone. Both Nene and Linna had been too busy
to come to the Hot Legs, thought Priss. Nene's probably at work
or something and Linna's off doing who knows what.
HOUGH/CRUSADE-110
The music was cranked when Priss arrived. Someone managed
to put on a forty year old Mettallica CD, classic metal. Priss
suffered though a full ten minutes of congratulations on her
performance before the crowds turned their attention back to the
booze, the drugs, the talk, the music, and the ever popular
persuit of sexual partners.
Men flowed around Priss, trying to start a conversation, or
asking her to join them in the packed dance area. When Priss
tossed back five shots of scotch, another guy happened along and
she said "ya, sure," to him. When they got to the dance area,
the music changed over to some hot Latina Salsa, which fit the
dim, sweaty, people packed area closest to the speakers. They
were moving together as one; they ceased to be separate people,
but were now a living organism unto itself, that loved being
pelted with sound.
The world narrowed until it was darkness, the pleasing odor
of many hot people moving together, the feel of five quick shots
hitting her blood, a secure feeling from the press of bodies, and
the sound of hot pulsing music, a heavy handed caress.
Priss was a little surprised when a moan slipped passed her
lips. The nameless and faceless guy under her responded with one
of his own. They moved together with a certain degree of
coldness. Each was intent on `the goal', on using each other to
reach that point, pleasure of the moment. Orgasm as proof of
orgasm, nothing more or less. Priss had known, for a long time
HOUGH/CRUSADE-111
now, that this was the way it was. Orgasm was not fondness,
love, or even liking of another person, it was simply an orgasm.
The sooner people realized this, the better off they would be,
Priss had thought in the past.
Priss rolled off of the nameless guy just a few moments
after it was over. She only looked over at him once while she
was dressing, and neither of them spoke a word after it was over.
Priss didn't want to look at him. One glance was enough to
overshadow her with a slight uneasiness that she couldn't quite
identify until she suddenly realized it was a touch of sadness
and regret that bothered her. True, he was nothing but a moment
of pleasure, but the sight of him sprawled out on the bed, his
penis now soft inside a condom, seemed to exemplify how
everything was. Priss searched her memory as she looked for a
shoe. She came to the conclusion that she had never been with a
guy that hadn't used a condom. She had never been close enough,
or trusted a man that much, had never known anybody long enough
to know for certain that it wasn't needed. They were all just
moments of pleasure.
The moment of pleasure faded within her as she took the
stairs back down to the party. The flash of a laser, which was
part of the lighting of the place, shined off of a bottle of
Tequila. Priss took the bottle, chugged half of it, and then
wondered what she was doing.
A little latter, one of the nameless guys, flowing by Priss
in the endless stream, offered her a couple of little
HOUGH/CRUSADE-112
orange/yellow octagon pills. They were highly illegal, just like
all the other drugs just floating around. Nobody cared if you
did or didn't, they were just there. Priss stared at those
pills, trying to remember what they would do, when she clearly
remember The Knight Sabers.
Sylia had laid it down to them when The Knight Sabers first
started; NO DRUGS. Priss waved him away as she remembered.
"This is something I feel must be our standard. Drugs slow
the mind and body, that is deadly to us. Those that can heighten
are also just as deadly. If you're so heightened that you're
simply reacting and not thinking, you're as good as dead again.
This is the nature of our business. Make no mistakes here. We
have to be pure of mind, body, heart, and soul. If we are
dedicated to our purpose, then this must be our standard.
Without this, we are common mercenary thugs, nothing more."
Sylia would expect nothing but the best they could give.
Priss rolled over and yawned, growing more sleepy by the
minute as the morning crunch started in earnest. Only a little
to drink now and then, thought Priss. And never when we got one.
Priss's chaotic mind slowed enough for sleep as its
wandering brought it to circle an experience she knew intimately
and daily. The power, the control, the feeling, vibrating
throughout her body, radiating up from her souped up bike, racing
the endless kms. of concrete in Mega-Tokyo. Fly'en low, dodge'en
the slow, go'en, go'en, go'en, over 50 kph over the legal limit.
HOUGH/CRUSADE-113
A slow smile, good times.
By 9:00 am Priss entered REM sleep. Slowly, ever so slowly,
through the montage of dreams the memories started to flow, take
shape, take ahold, and replay themselves through the booze.
"Sylvie..." murmured Priss as she rolled over, stifling a
snore.
"Hey, you all right?" Priss stooped down and put her arm
around Sylvie.
"Uh, yea." Sylvie held the bleeding cut and popped it into
her mouth.
"I bet that cat was a female, she turned nasty at the sight
of a beautiful girl."
"Oh, Priss. Kill...kill me..."
"Do it."
"I can't shoot her."
"Priss."
"Sylvie...here I come."
"I....Wanted....To Be...Free...Like...You........"
Priss howled over Sylvie, over Anri.
"Worm. Die."
"All of you."
"I'm not fighting for money, this city, anybody else; I'm
fighting for myself. It's better to die on my feet, in battle,
as a proud woman, than die like a coward on my knees."
"You bitches overstep your bounds. Learn your place."
"To hell with you."
HOUGH/CRUSADE-114
"At least he'll have a shot," said the Abyss. "Which is
more than you'll ever have."
"Blacklisted."
"You're not good enough," said Sylia.
"Sylia...I.."
"You are nothing Priss, how dare you think that you could
have the honor of being one of us."
"You'll die like a worm, on your knees, alone, before me,
God."
"Nothing," said the Abyss.
"Worm," sneered Sylia.
"Die," screamed Largo.
"Alone," said Sylvie as she skook her head sadly.
"Nothing."
"Worm."
"Die."
"Alone."
"Sylia....Sylvie...." pleaded Priss.
"Nothing."
"Worm."
"Die."
"Alone."
"Nothing."
"Worm."
"Die."
"Alone. Alone. Alone."
HOUGH/CRUSADE-115
"Noooooo...."
Priss slammed awake, wide eyed, breathing fast, hands
clenched in the sheet, tears running. Long minutes passed as she
gradually gained her control back. She drew her knees up and
locked her arms around them, wiping away the tears after letting
them flow for a minute.