[XOVER][Fanfic] BGC/Ranma: The Circe Project - Parts 7-8
Nightelf
Nightelf (nwl...@tam2000.tamu.edu) presents...
The Circe Project
part 7
A work of anime fanfiction by Nicholas Leifker, aka "Nightelf"
Ranma 1/2 Characters created by Rumiko Takahashi. Bubblegum Crisis
characters created by Kenichi Sonoda. All other characters created by
me. I must ask that you not do anything with this work or any part
without the author's permission.
"Anybody Listening" lyrics and music by Chris DeGarmo and Geoff Tate of
Queensryche.
Well, here we go...
*****************************************************************************
Sobs could be heard from the inner sanctum.
Sylia Stingray stared at the computer monitors from red, puffy eyes,
dark thoughts flying through her head. Ever since the last Jusenkyo raid -
indeed, ever since the first Jusenkyo raid - she had feared this perhaps
more than anything else. The list on the screen seemed innocuous enough,
just a few people of medium importance here and there...with two things
in common with all of them. All were antagonists of Genom at some point,
and all were now...
The young woman's thoughts turned back to Fargo, her 'fixer' and
friend. What Genom had done to him was obscene, sadism on a level that
made the curses themselves, the basis of Genom's new toy, seem innocent
and childish. And now...now Fargo wasn't the only one.
She had sworn an oath to herself on his death - a personal oath,
powerful and unbreakable, that there would be no more victims of this
madness. There was nobody else capable of stopping them, nobody who could
recognize the signs, nobody who had the will and the desire to stand up to
the Tower. The Knight Sabers were the only ones who could fight them,
and even then it would be an uphill battle.
The scientist dried her eyes, closed the list, and opened up another,
more familiar file. The Circe Project.
****************************************************************************
MegaTokyo always seemed to come alive at Christmastime. Ol' Scrooge
Genom got into the spirit of things by lighting huge multicolored lights
along its outside, creating the impression of a kilometer-high steel
Christmas tree. The shops and stores erected beautifully detailed
decorations in their windows, hoping to attract well-paying and generous
customers into their establishments. Even the destitute sections of town
seemed to get into the act, calling a partial truce to the violence and
setting out a few lights here and there...pathetic-looking, but
appreciated nonetheless. It was, as always, a time of renewal, a time to
reflect on the past and hope for the future.
Linna walked through the city streets, taking a familiar comfort in
the sights, her thoughts lost in the past and future. As a child, she had
stared at the lights and took joy in the beauty...they seemed a little
colder now. She had changed so much, mentally and physically, since those
innocent days, and now mourned the loss. A small squeeze on her hand
shook her back to herself - and her date.
"Linna...Earth to Linna..."
Hiroshi. Linna stopped, then stared at his dark eyes, his soft,
expressive face...this was their fifth date. She had been lucky so far -
no rain, no spilled drinks - but, one day, he would find out. What then?
"Sorry, Hiroshi. I was...thinking."
He smiled...she loved that innocent smile. "About what?"
She turned away for a moment. "I..." Linna broke the handhold and
held herself, chilled more by her thoughts than the weather. Naturally,
he wrapped his arms around her.
"It's okay. I'm here..."
His words, spoken with such sincerity, cut deep at the lies of her
life. Linna turned around, fueled by the pain within her. "Hiroshi,
I...I love you." The young man gasped at the surprise confession.
"That's why...why you have to know."
Worry flashed in his eyes. "Know what?"
She grabbed his hand tightly, leading him on. "We'll talk about it
in private."
Linna's apartment was an excellent reflection of its main resident:
Several styles coexisting alongside each other in a quiet, yet somehow
beautiful conflict. Linna sat her boyfriend down, offered a drink, and
placed her hands over his.
"Hiroshi...there are many things about my life that I haven't told
you yet. I don't just work at the aerobics club. I've also done...what
could be called 'mercenery work'".
Hiroshi's eyes widened in surprise. "You mean...you're a prostitute?"
"No...(giggle)...nothing like that. I mean 'mercenery work' as in
bodyguard duty or high-risk security."
"Oh." Linna smiled as her man turned a nice shade of crimson.
She let out a long sigh. This wasn't going to be easy...then again,
it never is. "Earlier this year, on one of these...jobs, I fell victim
to a Genom experiment."
Hiroshi sat there, numb, thinking the worst. "H...how long, linna?"
"It's not fatal. Part of me wishes it was." She stood up and led
him to the bathroom, where she started to take off her clothes.
"Be patient, Hiroshi. Please. What you are about to see no man or
woman should ever have to see, let alone experience." She took off the
last bit, and stepped into the shower. She placed one hand on the cold
water handle.
"In China, there are these...cursed springs. Falling in one curses
the victim with the body of whatever - or whoever - drowned there. From
now on, cold water...changes me. Hot water returns me to my true and
original self."
"Huh?"
"I guess what I'm trying to say is...can you love me, even if I
occasionally look..." She turned the handle, triggering the change,
"...like this?"
Hiroshi stood in total shock for a moment as his mind tried to
digest Linna's change to male form (and her subsesquent return to
womanhood). She walked toward him, and grasped his hands fiercely.
"Please, Hiroshi...I love you..."
"Linna." Hiroshi found enough of his voice to respond. "I...I
dunno, I...can I think about it for a few days?"
"Su-sure." Linna nodded, her heart shattering. She stood there,
unmoving, as Hiroshi made his exit. She waited until she heard the door
slam, then broke down uncontrollably, her tears not letting up until her
beau was long since gone.
*****************************************************************************
Raven's Garage was the site of a most unusual sight that December
20th: the first annual Knight Saber Christmas Party, complete with
karaoke, spiked punch, and white elephant gifts. The rooms normally used
for combat training and technical work were festively decorated with
ribbons, holly, and mistletoe, and a colorful tree sat by its lonesome in
a corner. Before, there really weren't enough people to hold a party,
nor were the bonds between the people strong enough to warrant it.
First up: karaoke contest. The first two entries weren't that bad,
as Sylia had a surprisingly beautiful singing voice and Nene's song
was...well...painless. Then things started to deteriorate. The first
indication of trouble was Priss' exquisite, if horribly appropriate,
rendition of "Memory". First prize was eventually awarded to Mackie and
Ranma for their impromptu, slightly inebriated, and cold-water version of
"Natural Woman". After their performance, Sylia awarded the prize,
smashed the microphones, and erased the program from the entertainment
computer. Somehow, the party continued despite the horror.
The time came for the distribution of gifts. Sylia raised her hand
for silence, and called out to the now-boisterous bunch.
"Everyone, before we open the humorous gifts, I acquired a few
presents for all of you." She hefted a large package, for Shampoo.
"First...for you."
"For me?" Shampoo opened the box, and pulled out a pair of ornate
bonbori. "Aiyaah...how you know?"
"Linna told me what happened to your old pair."
"Thank you..." She wielded the weapons for a moment, testing their
weight with a few practice swings. Sylia moved back to the tree, and
picked up a couple more boxes.
"Priss, Leon...these are for you." She handed the small boxes to
the couple. They opened them in unison, to reveal a set of keys for each
of them. They held them up, then noticed the Mercedes-Benz symbol on the
keychain.
"Priss, I figured that you might want a waterproof form of
transportation, so I bought a car for you. As for you, Leon..." she
smiled wryly, "You are going to be taking her on dates, aren't you? I
know it won't replace the thrill of a motorcycle, but they should be
useful."
"Thanks." The young couple held each other close.
"Next...Linna." She picked up a large box from the corner. Linna
took the box, sat down on the floor, and opened the lid.
Inside were...more boxes. Some were no more than a few inches on
each side, while others were much larger. Linna took the box on top,
opened it - and gasped. Her eyes dazzled as she pulled out a
full-length black velvet evening dress. She ran a hand over the
soft fabric, as though confirming its existence in her mind.
"Occasionally a woman likes to feel beautiful, ne?"
"Ne," Linna whispered as she wiped an errant tear away.
"And...for Nene." She picked up a small package from underneath
the tree.
"Mmmph?" The redhead in question looked up from her ice cream
just in time to grab the gift. She opened the box, revealing...well...
some sort of electronic device, roughly the size of an old-style
graphing calculator. The top third of the face glittered with the
crystals of a holographic projector, while various buttons and
switches covered the rest of the face. Disbelieving, Nene reverently
touched the buttons.
"Sylia...this is...how did..."
"Some questions are better left unasked."
Nene just shook her head. "Man...I wonder how much Genom would
be willing to pay for this?"
"Nene..."
She smiled innocently. "Just kidding..."
"Ranma, Nodoka, this is for you." Sylia produced a thick
envelope from her coat pocket, and handed it to the younger of the
clan.
"Kore wa..." Nodoka-chan whispered as she looked at the papers
inside. "This has gotta be some joke."
Sylia laughed. "No joke. Also, no rent payment. I take it you
appreciate the gift?"
They both nodded, still looking in amazement at the ownership
papers.
"And, finally...Mackie." She handed him a long wooden case. He
opened it...
Inside, a katana, beauty and grace embodied in polished steel and
rosewood. "Father...this is his..."
"Father asked me to hold onto it until you had reached adulthood.
I could never convince myself you were ready, until now." Sylia smiled
proudly.
"Also, it can help compensate for certain 'shortcomings', right,
Mackie?" Priss blurted, unable to resist the comment.
"Hey! Mackie doesn't need any compensation," Nodoka interjected,
holding her love close.
She added, almost as an afterthought, "...usually."
The party roared with laughter.
*****************************************************************************
The clock on the monitor flashed the lateness of the hour: 3:34.
Most of the guests had already left, citing one sort of business or
another. All of the presents had been unwrapped, and all that was left
was to clean up and call it a night.
"Sis?" Mackie walked over to join his sister, his mind trying to
cut through the alcohol and weariness.
"Yes, Mackie?"
"I was wondering..."
"About the gag gift? Well, if you don't like it, Nodoka might..."
Sylia smiled ,too tired to laugh.
"Sylia..." Mackie was not in the mood for jokes.
"Sorry...(yawn)...what's on your mind?"
Mackie chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Tonight, when you gave all
those gifts...why did you do that?"
She shrugged. "It's Christmas."
"That's not what I mean, and you know it."
The leader of the Knight Sabers sat back in her chair, and let out a
long, tired sigh. "Over the past couple of weeks, I've received...
reports...of a disturbing nature. I think - correction, I know - that a
confrontation is coming soon, and we'll be in the middle of it. Either
we succeed, survive, and probably disband the group due to our lack of
use...or we don't. I guess what I'm trying to say is...this will
probably be the last Christmas we'll have as the Knight Sabers."
Mackie frowned in concern. "What's going to happen?"
Only a small, despairing shake of the head came in reply. Mackie
rose from his seat, and raised his glass. "Merry Christmas, sis."
She clumsily raised her own in response. "You too, Mackie."
*****************************************************************************
Andy Warhol once said that every person has fifteen minutes of
fame. Priss looked out at the moderately jovial crowd in front of
her...so far, she'd had twenty-five. Some in the crowd were bored,
simply biding their time before the main attraction made her entrance.
Others were naturally impressed by her music, and wanted more. One more
song to go before her night was up - the one she had been waiting for.
The noise from the crowd reached a crescendo, then fell silent, as all of
the lights went out.
All save one.
Priss walked out into the spotlight, her head bowed in silent
contemplation, memories from her past as real as sight inside her head.
She had chosen this song for a reason: though written years before her
birth, the song was, in many ways, her life - and memorial.
The beginning chords from the guitarist echoed in her head, a
funereal dirge slowly intoxicating her into the song. Her voice started
out soft...melodious...sad, knowing in some corner of her mind that the
moment to ignite would come.
The song was a strange one, new to an audience dulled by decades of
corporation music: an old tune of lies and truth, war and peace...and
love. Her eyes flared as the first chorus came, the anger in her coming
alive:
Is there anybody listening?
Is there anyone who sees what's going on?
Read between the lines,
criticize the words they're selling.
Think for yourself and feel the walls
become sand beneath your feet.
She calmed again, her eyes lost in the dreaming...sailing away, far
from the lies of society. As she continued, it took an effort to keep
from breaking down, nearly doing so at one point before a powerful chord
brought her back, darker and angrier than ever. She was a demoness on
stage by the end, every indignity handed her exorcised in focused screams
for the crowd's benefit. Then it came, the end of the emotional roller
coaster, a sad, quiet whisper.
"...close your eyes."
She bowed, wiped the tears from her eyes, then looked out into the
crowd...roaring. She smiled, bowed again, thanked everyone, then headed
backstage.
*****************************************************************************
If anyone asked, Priss would chalk it up to professional curiosity.
Of course, they'd then notice the slight tapping of her feet, and
think otherwise.
Truth to tell, she was enjoying the show. Vision was, in many ways,
Priss' antithesis on stage, the light to counter her darkness. The
retrothrash singer watched the familiarity, the friendliness she showed
with the crowd, along with the intense love and hope shining in her eyes
with each phrase...equally passionate, yet worlds apart. She found
herself getting lost in admiration while pining with jealousy at the same
time, her professional and personal selves in conflict.
Then, about an hour into the show...Priss noticed something,
normally invisible to those outside of performance. Vision was starting
to withdraw...she didn't move around as much as before, and the vocals
were just a tad strained. A veteran of countless performances, Priss
recognized the symptoms instantly: Vision was either exhausted or sick,
likely the latter from a veteran.
Vision only lasted a couple more songs before she couldn't go on.
After finishing "Say Yes!", she bowed one last time, waved to the crowd,
and staggered out to the wings. She collapsed into the arms of the
nearest person there - in this case, the opening act. Priss gently laid
her down on to the floor, every sensation of wrong pricking at her mind.
Then she got a good, close look at the singer - and backed away slowly,
frightened.
It was the hands which got her attention first - the delicate
instruments were smaller, with the fingernails lengthened slightly and
slender. The face was also slightly different, with the nose a slightly
less prominent feature than it had been. Other small clues from her body
were noticed, as the changes in question were not unfamiliar to her.
After all, she had seen them many times before, in high-speed photos...
of herself.
*****************************************************************************
Hello, everyone.
Thanks...
To Rumiko Takahashi and Kenichi Sonoda, for creating these characters.
To all those on the early list and the ML who have sent in their comments,
especially Stormwalker, skywise, and Jeanne Hedge for their help.
If you wish to be on my early list, let me know.
As always, C&C is appreciated.
Nicholas Leifker
"Nightelf"
nwl...@tam2000.tamu.edu
http://http.tamu.edu:8000/~nwl9354
November 12, 1996
******************************************************************************
End Part 7
******************************************************************************
Nightelf (nwl...@tam2000.tamu.edu) presents...
The Circe Project
Part 8
A work of anime fanfiction by Nicholas Leifker, aka "Nightelf"
Ranma 1/2 characters created by Rumiko Takahashi. Bubblegum Crisis
characters created by Kenichi Sonoda. All other characters created by
me. I must ask that you not do anything with any part of this work
without permission.
Enjoy the show...
*****************************************************************************
The air was thick with tension inside the garage's living room.
With last night's events still fresh in everyone's mind, there was
little left to the imagination as to the topic of discussion. Couples
held each other close, as though their close proximity would protect them
from the darkness. The rest looked outward, at the walls, their feet,
each other...somewhat pessimistic about the future, but looking to it
anyway.
Sylia entered the room, looking much the grim reaper in her black
suit and somber face. Her gaze shifted from one person to another, her
family gathered around her at this supposedly joyous, but now darkened
time. She thought of the times and tragedies they had shared, as well
as those they would share. The warrior and scientist took in a long,
deep breath, then began, her voice solemn and quiet.
"Thank you for coming so promptly. I..." She nearly broke down as
the crumbling shell of her professionalism fought the swelling fear
inside her. "I will never be able to tell you how much I appreciate your
friendship."
She breathed deeply, then sighed, in an effort to contain her
thoughts. "On 8 December, a red flag went up on the Saber mainframe. I
had programmed it to look for certain cases - ones in which a person
would turn up missing with a strange animal on the scene, or cases like
the one last night, a freak malady with no logical explanation."
"Since that time, there have been no less than twenty-seven cases of
this nature in MegaTokyo alone, and over a hundred around the globe. All
of the victims were opponents of Genom in some way...union leaders...
politicians...policemen." She bore her gaze into Leon, making sure he
got the point.
"Last night's attack of Reika Chang was by far the most notorious.
It means that someone at Genom wants his enemies dead - now."
"Quincy," Nene whispered.
Strangely enough, Sylia smiled. "Yes...and no. Genom has been
going through some serious changes in its hierarchy over the past few
weeks...sideways maneuvering, forced retirement, disappearances...All of
this points to one thing: Someone new is in charge at Genom. Judging by
the fact that Quincy is ordering the changes, I am led to the conclusion
that someone has killed Quincy and set up a Boomer duplicate."
"For now, here are the orders: Mackie, Ranma, get changed. You're
going to visit a young lady in a padded cell - who just happens to claim
to be a disappeared union director. Nene, get your Box ready. You're
going to be making some practice hacking runs. The information you need
is in the main computer. Everyone else...be careful...and be ready.
According to the data from the laboratory, those with Jusenkyo curses
have immunity to the change. However, what none of you have is an
immunity to bullets. Be ready for the call at any time. As for me, I
have...I have an errand to run." She strode purposefully to the
door, then stopped before leaving, as though she had forgotten something.
"Take care, everyone."
Everyone stared at each other for a long moment, surprised at the
relative briefness - and sudden ending - of the meeting. Slowly, one by
one, they got up, and went to their respective tasks. After all, they
had work to do, and little time to do it.
*****************************************************************************
Snow fell down on the MegaTokyo streets, its soft flurries drifting
lazily onto the sidewalk, only to melt and refreeze to slippery,
shimmering ice. This surface provided a trecherous road for the
businessmen and women to travel...primarily the women, trying to do their
best to walk in a dignified manner in high heels, usually with varying
degrees of success.
As it happened, the younger of the two women walking down this
particular stretch of sidewalk was trying to walk in any manner...and was
not having much success at that.
"Ranma, how much practice haAAAAAVE!" Mackie slipped on the ice,
Ranma's steady hands the only thing between her and the loss of much of
her 'feminine modesty'. Ranma lifted the young man-turned-woman back on
her feet, then steadied her.
"Too much, Mackie...too much. More stories for when I'm really
drunk. If it helps, think of it as a balance exercise - you won't worry
about it so much." She brushed a bit of snow off of Mackie's dress, then
opened the door for her.
A bored-looking middle-aged clerk waited at the front desk as the
two entered. He didn't even bother to glance at the two women, choosing
to instead offer an impersonal hand out to them.
"Papers, please."
"Of course." Mackie opened her briefcase, pulled out a small manila
envelope, and handed it to him. "We're here to see patient 24601."
The clerk pulled the envelope in front of him, glanced at its
contents for a brief moment, then pushed a button on the desk. A secure
door opened at one end of the room. "Room 115. Code key is 4975. Have
a nice day," he mumbled, his tone completely passionless. Mackie
shrugged, then headed through the door, quickly followed by her mentor.
A strange laughter echoed through the halls as they walked to
their destination - a hideous cackle that sounded like glass
rubbing together. Ranma stepped to the side, looked in a room...and
turned white as a sheet. She quickly walked away, dragging a
still-uncoordinated Mackie behind her.
"What was that?"
"Stray dog."
Thanks to Ranma's haste, the two quickly reached their destination.
The martial arts master approached the keypad, typed the code in, and opened
the door.
Both women fought for control of their emotions as they took a look
at the creature residing within. She sat on the bed, knees pulled up to
her chin, her eyes glued to empty space. Overall, she was quite
attractive, with a relatively slender build, short blond hair, and a
smooth face, if a bit expressionless. It was the eyes, though, which got
their attentions...Confusion and fear ruled in the soul beneath. The
patient made no move to greet her guests; indeed, she didn't even
acknowledge their existence.
Mackie and Ranma took places on either side of her, each placing a
reassuring hand on her shoulders. "Hello. My name is...Mackie...and
this is Ranma."
"My name is James LaBelle." She said the words fiercely, implying
that she would not allow any words to the contrary.
"We know...James."
Needless to say, this was not the sort of response she'd been
expecting. She turned to Mackie imploringly. "You...know?"
"James...you'd better brace yourself. You're not going to like what
you hear."
Mackie sighed, and began pulling out files from her briefcase. This
was probably going to be the most depressing job of her life.
*****************************************************************************
Ranma looked at her watch. Forty-five minutes had gone by so far.
They only had fifteen more before they had to leave.
This was perhaps the most difficult job she'd ever faced since she
met the Stingrays...the most heartbreaking...and, yet, the most necessary.
The second she looked in the young woman's eyes, she knew. She _knew_.
Once upon a time, she had sat drying in the afternoon sun, her body worn
from an angry run...with precisely that same look in her eyes. Then, she
numbly listened to the guide's words, unable to absorb anything save the
magnitude of her loss. It took a few days to realize it was only
temporary...sort of...and go on. When she first met Mackie, a bit of
that look lingered in her eyes, causing her to suspect the truth.
Now, there was James, a case different from hers and Mackie's, but
not totally unfamiliar. She had faced the permanent loss of her manhood
before, from Cologne...Herb...Each round had scared her, shaken her to
the core, as though she had transformed for the first time...but she
fought on.
Apparantly, so will James...Jamie...with a little help: From family
if she can get it, from friends if she can't. Her eyes, red from tears,
looked a little different now...still scared, but with some hope in them.
"Mackie, Jamie...much as I hate to say this, it's time for us to
go. We have much to take care of today, including a nice long chat with
your wife."
Jamie nodded, and managed a weak smile. "Tell her...I love her
and...I know the marriage is gone, but...what I really need from her
is...a friend."
"I will."
****************************************************************************
Waiting was not the thing Priss wanted to do when she first became a
Knight Saber. Back then, her thoughts were consumed by vengeance - she
wanted Quincy's head on a silver platter, served with a side order of
french fries. Now, though...she didn't mind waiting so much, though it
still irked her during tense situations.
If any situation was tense, this was it. Genom had developed the
ultimate assassin's weapon. Worse, they were using it with alarming
frequency. She was immune, only because they'd already taken care of
her. But Leon...
She looked up at her love, her head resting in his lap, his fingers
gently running through her hair. He'd had less-than-pleasant dealings
with Genom in the past...this made him a possible target. She had come
to accept her change. It gave her a new perspective, an interesting way
of looking at life.
At the end of Sylia's talk, an image formed in her mind, one she has
since been trying to forget. Leon...slowly...painfully...transforming,
his strong hands morphing into paws, his face changing, his body growing
fur...She couldn't accept a permanent change from him. If it happened...
if it happened, she'd strap a neutron bomb to her back and fly into Genom
Tower. It scared her, even more than the fear she felt when she realized
her own transformation.
She reached a hand up to his face, and started to feel the lines.
The small scar near his left ear, the little area under his chin that he
can't quite shave properly...each touch etching in her mind, just in
case. She knew now, and could admit...she loved him. It had been such a
long, painful road to get this far, and they would _never_ take that
away, not while she had life in her.
*RIIIIINNGG...RIIIIINNGG*
"Hello?" Leon's tenor was soft, subdued by the moment.
"Hello. Is Priss there?"
"Yes. Just a moment." He waited to allow Priss to sit up properly,
then handed her the phone.
"Priss here."
"Hi. This is Rob Carr, vice-president of operations for Tiger
Records. I was impressed with your performance last night, and was
wondering if you would be interested in auditioning for a recording
contract."
Ohman...this was too much. "I...would be interested in
auditioning." Somehow, she kept her composure enough to keep from
screaming.
"Excellent. When would you be interested in coming down to our
studio?"
Priss shook her head, trying to focus..."If you don't mind, I would
like to wait until after Christmas to audition."
"Very well. Would two o'clock on the 28th be acceptable?"
"Yes. That would be a good time."
"Good. Contact my secretary before the audition, and she'll
provide you with directions."
She said her goodbyes and hung up, her body numb. Either this was
the ultimate dream, or the ultimate nightmare. She hadn't figured out
which yet.
****************************************************************************
Throughout her many travels, Sylia Stingray had seen all types of
security. Boomer bodyguards, laser targeting systems, disorientation
blasts...she had seen all of these and more, designed such systems, and
figured out ways to get around all of them.
All except this. Sometimes the old ways are still the best.
The director of the Knight Sabers put up with the search with her
usual quiet dignity, smiling to herself as she contemplated the
old-fashioned human security guards. She had tried to figure out a way
to get quietly around these guards, servants devoted to their master far
more than money or life, and came up empty-handed.
Finally cleared for admission, she made a few slight adjustments to
her suit, and walked into the dimly lit, spacious office.
Inside...an old man sat in a highbacked mahogany chair, silently
crying as he swam in his own thoughts. He looked small, vulnerable, but
with a hint of the fire that had made him the director of Hou Bang. She
drew in a ragged breath as she noticed the small charcoal-gray cat in
his lap, mournfully purring as the old man stroked her. His eyes peered
at Sylia intently, trying to see the secrets beneath.
"I...understand...you know what happened to my Reika." Such a
strong voice from that frail body...
"Y-yessir. I...My name is Sylia Stingray. I am the leader of the
group known as the Knight Sabers."
A crooked eyebrow raised on the wizened face. "Amazing that such
beauty would go together with such power. Also, that you would take
such a risk by going out into the open."
Sylia nodded grimly. "These are desperate times, sir." She opened
her briefcase and pulled out a small data unit. "All of the information
is on here."
"I need no data!" he hissed, shocking in his fury. "There are only
two things I need to know."
The Knight Saber nodded, guessing the questions. "First of all,
there is no way to reverse the...the transformation." Her own face was
etched with anger. "Second...Genom."
Chongk Chang nodded, unsurprised by the answers. "Thank you. Please
leave the data unit on the desk. I...must apologize for my lack of
manners. The past day has been a terrible strain on me."
Sylia placed the unit on the desk. She then bowed deeply to the
old man before leaving. "I am sorry this happened, sir. I assure you
Genom will not go unpunished."
Much to Sylia's surprise, Chang managed a wry smile. "Truer words
were never spoken, Miss Stingray. Good luck in your endeavors."
"Thank you, sir. May fortune bless your efforts as well." She
turned around and walked out of the office, giving a warm greeting to the
guards as she left.
Fortunately, leaving did not take as long as entering. The guards
grimly returned the salutations, and continued to eye her warily as she
walked out without delay to her car. As she walked, she analytically
scanned her surroundings, ready for any danger to her person or any
inconsistency. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary...men and women going
about their daily business as they traversed from one place to another...
Then she saw her. A young woman, about 25 physically, stood against
the wall near her car. Everything about her - the perfect alabaster skin,
the unnatural glint to the eyes, her emotionless demeanor - everything
screamed "boomer".
In the last instant, she looked for any area to use as cover, and
found none. She was either dead to rights...or extremely paranoid.
The "boomer" turned from her without a thought and walked casually
down the street, away from Sylia's position. The scientist stared at the
retreating creature for a moment, wondering the meaning behind it.
Then she looked down.
She ran for the car without even bothering to check for traps, and
gunned the engine. She hadn't a moment to lose.
*****************************************************************************
"So...how was your little trip to the psych ward?" Nene didn't
bother to turn from her computer as Mackie and Ranma walked into the
room, both back in their natural forms...and grateful for it. The
two looked at each other, then back at her.
"It was...good. We arranged a few union contacts in Genom thanks to
Jamie's help. They were apparantly organizing a strike before her
disappearance." Mackie couldn't bring himself to talk about the rest.
"How is your hacking going?"
"Box, status report."
"Of course, Mistress. Infiltration into the lower levels has proven
a simple task; however, we have reached an obstacle with the Level 3
security."
"Mind if I-"
* BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP *
Mackie pressed a button on the communication console. The image
that appeared would be one he would never forget. Behind him, Nene
gasped, covering her face with one hand.
"Hello, Mackie." Sylia stared back out from the computer monitor.
The way Sylia looked...it reminded Mackie of that morning so long ago,
after he had first changed. Something was clearly wrong with her.
"What's wrong, sis?"
She smiled weakly. "Mackie...I...I'm dying."
Noting the stunned expressions of the trio, she continued. "I was
hit with a needle. If I'm right, I should start to change in less than
an hour. Unfortunately, due to my bioware...I'll never survive it."
Mackie finally snapped out of his shock. "Sylia, get back here -
now. We'll...we'll figure something out."
Sylia just shook her head. "No...it's too late for anything. Thank
you for the offer, though."
Tears started to well in the first Knight Saber's eyes.
"Mackie...you are now officially in command...the computer system has
already been advised of your new status. Also, there are data units for
each of the team members in the safe, made for this situation."
"Mackie...there's so much I want to tell you...I'm so proud of you.
You've grown up so much...Mackie, know that I love you and have always
loved you. I wish I could have seen you get married...have kids...but I
guess it wasn't meant to be. Tell everyone how much I have appreciated
their friendship over the years. Mackie...I have...something I need to
do...I can't stay on. Good bye, Mackie. I love you."
* bwip *
"SIIIIIIIISSSSS!!!"
*****************************************************************************
Nicholas Leifker
"Nightelf"
nwl...@tam2000.tamu.edu
http://http.tamu.edu:8000/~nwl9354
November 12, 1996