Just then, one of the junior investigators jogged up to report. "Captain! We've got the results of the inquiry on the model number we found earlier - the database confirms that this is Orca IV, a shuttle belonging to SDPC. There's no word yet on who was aboard."
Choji grumbled unhappily, silently wishing he'd brought another bag of Cheezy Poofs to calm his nerves. The government-owned corporation was sure to have its own investigators here shortly, agents with far too much political clout to keep sidelined while his people did their job. *Probably here specifically to keep us finding out certain things,* he growled mentally. "If we're dealing with SDPC, we might as well pack it in now," he commented sourly.
Daley nodded, ruefully agreeing, "So what we have is over our heads, in more ways than one."
"Take it with a grain of salt," Leon advised. "Down here it's our jurisdiction." Looking back down the valley, he continued, "Looks like they're on their way." The rhythmic beats of heavy helicopter rotors echoed in the distance, a trio of them appearing through the same pass the ADP aerodyne had used earlier.
---=- + -=---
Standing at the windows that made up one wall of a darkened office, a tall, well dressed man smirked disparagingly, idly playing with an antique metal coin while he listened to the office's owner chew out a subordinate over the Genaros affair. Though his angular face seemed young, his short-cropped, spiky hair was stark white, with only the faintest hint of color - a steely blue that only added to his chilling appearance. A scar on each cheek and one above his left eye formed something like an inverted, lower-case Y. The ridged flesh was slightly darker than his pallid skin, framing a pair of cybereyes much more obvious than current fashion with their dead-black sclera and segmented, golden irises. As the video call ended, he spoke without turning, eyes seemingly fixed on the flashing coin as it spun above his fingers. "It seems, at least for now, that Kaufman is still following your orders, Flint," he remarked.
"Our most immediate concern right now is the whereabouts of the DD, which was supposed to be aboard that shuttle," the portly, greying executive noted. "If ADPolice or the Tower find out about it, we'll have no choice but to temporarily cut the strings between us and our SDPC puppet, Magnus."
Turning at last, the white-haired man's mouth twisted into a scowl as he chided, "Your security is not my problem, Flint, particularly if you persist in pretending to be my superior. Rather than sever ties, YOU, and the chair you're sitting in, might simply... vanish." Unnerving eyes narrowing as he made the threat, Magnus looked over the rim of the coin which had stopped, hovering in mid air with the head side toward Flint. On his last word, it suddenly crumpled into a ball, as if crushed in some invisible, immensely strong hand.
Flint paled, but kept his voice steady as he apologized, "Sorry, Mr. Largo. Still, I know what those girls are after, and both ADPolice and the Tower *will* be investigating this. I trust you'll appreciate the risk I run shielding you."
A sarcastic snort was his only reply, as the crushed coin slowly settled on the center of his blotter. Face tight, Flint turned his chair to look out the windows himself, wondering just what manner of devil he'd chosen to ally with.
---=- + -=---
It was only with difficulty that Nene had controlled the giggle fit that threatened to overtake her as Leon dodged the Chief's coffee cup - apparently, he hadn't agreed with the official order for Daley to just take statements as a formality on his upcoming trip to the space station, and the Chief hadn't liked Leon's bullheadedness ... as usual.
She sighed as the commotion settled down again - also as usual, the paperwork on cases past and present was never ending, and despite filling in other roles - dispatcher, aide, or VIP escort - from time to time, her official position was little more than a records clerk with a badge. Therefore, the majority of the paperwork in the detectives' office was hers and Naoko's to sort, file, and/or scan into the database, and she was still playing catch-up slightly from the weeks missed after the destruction of Lady633, especially since her co-worker Naoko was on vacation herself this week.
Case in point: the Forensics Department's analysis of the remains left behind by the Griffon had been sitting in her inbox since the morning before last, and she was only now getting to it. She almost hated to take the time, but at the same time she was curious what they'd made of it, the physical remains of a supernaturally animated construct. She rather expected Sylia would want a copy once it had been converted to digital format, for that matter... maybe just a little peek?
The giggle-fit struck her with a vengeance as she flipped open the folder. Inside, instead of the usual general summary, the first page was a colored pencil sketch of the white Knight Saber, with the addition of Green's monoribbons and a miniskirt, posing in front of a crescent moon. Below it, a caption read, "MOON HEALING ESCALATION! You're dusted!" and she couldn't help it any more, she broke out in full blown laughter, imagining Sylia in place of the star of that old show, STILL in reruns to this very day.
Leon craned over from his desk, and grinned as he spotted the picture in front of her. "Finally got to that one, did you?" he asked, chuckling. "I thought you'd appreciate a laugh, with how swamped you've been lately. Fuko MacNamara drew it, she's the police artist on my squad. She usually sells them from what I understand, but you can have that one."
Somehow, it didn't seem quite so long to the end of Nene's shift after that.
---=- + -=---
At least money was something they hadn't had to worry about, thought Nam as she followed Sylive down the highway on their new motorbikes. "Thank you, Meg," she whispered. Part of the redhead's extensive preparations for the breakout had been to divert a large amount of money to a groundside account - ironically enough, through a network used by Genom itself to fund its own black ops and remain untraceable even internally. It wouldn't last forever, but carefully managed it could last a few years with only three of them...
... somehow, she'd rather have needed to find paying work sooner. *It's not the time for regrets, it's time to make good memories for all of us,* she told herself, and returned to concentrating on where she was, and what she was doing. Honestly, though she'd never been one to seek out excitement - excitement came to her all too often in the emergency ward - ever since that first blast of speed when she'd activated her advanced movement systems with Meg back on the station, Nam had found herself longing to go just a little faster, push things just a little farther. Jumping out of a crashing shuttle in the arms of a battlemover, with only an invisible barrier of sound waves between herself and being ripped apart by a supersonic slipstream had been terrifying, but also exhilarating.
Now, she was dressed in a yellow and blue jumpsuit and snuggled up to the tank of a hot, tuned and modified sport bike, only barely behind Sylvie as they tore down the bayshore highway, straining to make up the distance while keeping what she'd come to think of as her 'software accelerator' from going online. That wasn't so much because it would be an unfair advantage - though with the way it made time seem to slow to a crawl it certainly would be - but because it would no longer be a thrill to ride a bike she could outpace on foot. Until they could deal with the 33s design's somewhat limited blood regeneration, though, using that speed under anything less than life-threatening danger was out of the question.
It was with a happy grin then that she took the inside line around the curve at the deepest section of the bay, gaining several handspans on Sylvie as the two of them eased past another cyclist in the outside lane, on a red, white, and blue bike. They'd spent most of the day looking at various rides before settling on their modified Genom GSX-R 2300s, but her best guess was that it was a completely custom design. Seeing the yellow and black suited biker twist the throttle to catch them up, she released a happy laugh and let the enhanced software take over for a moment, looking back over her shoulder and casually waving to join the race. She shut it down again as she faced forward, the third woman rapidly catching up.
--=--
Not too much later, all three of them had pulled off at a beach on the north end of the bay to watch the sunset and eat odango from a nearby yatai. The custom bike's rider had introduced herself as Priss, a musician, and had recognized the tuning shop logo on their bikes on sight. She paid for her fresh-off-the-grill odango and turned back to the sexaroids, remarking, "Kaneda must have done a number on those old Gixers to get that kind of performance - I had one a few years back and it was fast, but nothing close to what we were pulling just now." She took a bite of one of the meatballs and yelped, washing it down with a quick swig of juice before blowing on the ones still on the spike.
While Nam suppressed a grin, Sylvie replied, "Do you know him, then? I got a good look at his collection of custom bike pictures, but I don't remember anything like yours."
Still waiting for her food to cool, the singer nodded, but explained, "This is a scratch built design from Raven's Garage - it's not too far from Kaneda's actually, but Doc doesn't keep a showroom and it's down in the canyons, so it's more of a word of mouth kind of place. Even some people who've been in the bike scene for years don't know about it."
"I see," said Nam, joining the conversation. "Since we're both new in town, it's no surprise we missed it, in that case. We needed some wheels right away, so if he only does special orders it wouldn't have helped anyway, but maybe when it's time to trade up?"
"Well, he doesn't handle a lot of clients, but I'll introduce you and see what he says, at least." Finally deciding her odango had cooled enough, Priss took another careful bite, then pulled the rest of the top meatball of the skewer, chewing it energetically before concluding, "It's definitely the place to go if you want to see the hottest bike in town, though." That it was still kinda on the trashed side, in no small part due to her, she kept to herself. *At least Mackie let up on making me fix it, finally. Must have realized it wasn't getting anywhere except when Doc helped, and with that new project taking his attention, that's not so often as I hoped.*
Sylvie and Nam had already finished their meatballs, and with the sun now below the horizon were getting ready to head back to the apartment they'd rented. Seeing this, Priss called to them, "My band is playing all week at Hot Legs, on Hayate street. Come check us out some time if you like retrothrash, eh?"
Pausing with her helmet in her lap, Sylvie winked at the red-eyed singer, grinning as she confirmed, "Okay, it's a date!" - which came as something of a surprise to Nam. She'd gotten a good vibe from the woman, but had thought Sylvie quite attached to Anri. With a slight shrug, she fastened her own helmet and returned Priss's wave before starting up the bike's engine and rolling out.
Seeing them well gone, Priss shot her own bike a disgusted look and complained, "Geeze, custom built gas hog and it still barely beats a pair of Kaneda's cookie cutter, Genom kiss up, hack jobs. I don't know who should be more pissed, me or Pops."
---=- + -=---
Linna could hear Sylia talking to one of her contacts in the other room as she changed - something about arms smugglers - but her mind was anywhere but on their 'knight work' at the moment. Everyone had been busy the past couple of days after realizing Cynthia disappeared the same night as the shuttle had crashed, in an unsuccessful repeat of the search they'd done when first hired to find her. The white saber had been as close to frantic as Linna could remember ever seeing her, out of worry for their secrecy and - she suspected - for the little girl, miraculously made flesh and blood a few months ago, who'd slowly been working her way into all of their hearts. Mr. and Mrs. Akimoto had been the hardest hit in that respect, the elderly couple who'd all but adopted the child joining in the legwork where they could.
Perhaps the most disturbing part of it was that Sylia *hadn't* run them all off to another location like she had when Priss's weird stalker-robot had infiltrated their original headquarters (though everyone had received two sets of alternate identities, complete with bank accounts and travel visas) suggesting that she didn't have another prepared fallback position this time. None of that had her full attention at the moment, of course, because with the search called off this evening she had far more important concerns on her mind: getting ready for tonight's date!
Usually she used her own apartment, of course, having moved back in as soon as things settled down after the Lady633 fiasco, but had come to get a set of special-order clothes Sylia had whipped up for her. The reasons for *that* were what was foremost on her mind... Ever since she'd woken up from being crushed in her hardsuit fighting the possessed Griffon, her strength had been almost uncontrollable, and it had caused quite a few problems. She'd had to stop doing hands-on instruction in her karate classes at Phoebe's Gym after putting a student's shoulder out of joint accidentally, and any outfit not made of bulletproof nanoweave fabric tended to get torn to shreds if something so much as startled her. Hiryuko had guessed that there had been lasting physical damage as a result of all the years she'd spent with her ki turned against itself, even after Kami-sama had straightened it out - damage repaired along with everything else by the Kagami woman's Ritual of Ultimate Restoration.
As inconvenient and frustrating as that was, however, the fact that the furry brown tail she'd finally remembered having had grown back was far more alarming... she wasn't sure why she hadn't gone to get it removed yet, herself. It made her balance strange unless she wrapped it around her waist, was fiendishly sensitive and uncomfortable in a hardsuit even if she did, and had to be hidden somehow when she was in public. She'd been wearing a lot of silk sashes these days, and really had no idea what she was going to do if her date tonight turned out especially well. Yasuo was a nice guy and all, but...
Maybe she could pass it off as an exotic piece of cybernetics? An impulsive teenage addition when they were fashionable, kept as a reminder to avoid future foolishness?
She cleared her mind with an unhappy sound, concentrating on getting the green tabard to hang artistically over her black bodysuit and the knot on her red sash to be loose enough for comfort but tight enough to keep her errant new member well hidden. She'd traded her usual yellow bandanna for matching red, as well. "I do wonder who comes up with these fashions," she murmured to herself. "Between this and the white high-heel boots I look like some bizarre manga character."
Oh well, at least having the sash around her waist made the otherwise loose garment a bit more form-fitting. Then again, she was his date to a media industry party, sure to be filled with the latest music idols and TV stars. Did she *really* want to invite comparisons? At least the tabard's flared shoulders made her waist and hips look that much thinner, and the one wholly positive aspect of her physical changes lately was that her boobs hadn't lost any size, even while the rest of her body fat seemed to melt away. If anything, the underlying pectoral muscles had grown, firming them up more and adding a full cup size. Feeling much more confident in herself, she grinned at the hot chick in the mirror, boasting, "Let those stick figure songbirds try starting anything. He's there with *me*, and any kitten who tries to use more than words is gonna find herself facing a mountain lion!" Her frame of mind much improved, Linna brushed a hand through her black hair - fortunately, spiky was in at the moment, so she didn't have to try to plaster it down - and headed out, absently noting that Sylia had finished her call and vanished again as she passed through. She was due to meet her beau at a cafe in fifteen minutes or so, but it wouldn't hurt him to wait a little, so the long drive back into Megatokyo wouldn't be a problem.
---=- + -=---
It was a rainy night a few days later, and while some parts of the city were as active as ever the Kawasaki industrial district was quiet, abandoned to the terminally over-dedicated and a few night watchmen, be they human or buma. At a small Genom service center placed there to capitalize on the buma workforce by providing technicians for on-site repairs, a guard of the human variety was cursing whatever idiot had scheduled both of the usual buma watchmen for a maintenance cycle this evening, the almost-burned-out parking lot floodlamp that gave only sporadic bursts of light, the low quality of coffee stocked in the break room vending machine, and pretty much everything else in the immediate vicinity right on down to the leak in his left shoe.
"At least the damn things will be up in an hour or so and I can finally go home," he grumbled, crumpling his latest coffee can. As he came out the door for another hurried circuit around the outside of the building, a flash of movement caught his eye when the floodlight flickered on for a moment. Pointing his flashlight that way revealed something big and red with a girl standing in front of it, taking off a clear visor of some kind. Before he could get more than a glimpse of her, she blurred and vanished, suddenly reappearing a few feet in front of him, his flashlight beam illuminating her yellow and blue-clad chest. Still in shock, he goggled at the intruder, light purple hair slicked down by the rain and framing terrifying, glowing ... red ...
As the guardsman collapsed, Nam leapt forward again to catch him, then used his key to open the door and drag him inside. Opening the repair bay door for Sylvie to bring the DD in and under cover from prying eyes was the work of moments, then the both of them set to work at data terminals, using the centers' link to the private Genom corporate network to look for the data they needed. Though they hadn't fully succeeded when the guard buma started to come back online later on, they had some good leads, and with the DD it was a simple matter to crush them, destroy the shop to hide their tracks, and be gone before any backup or investigation could arrive.
--=--
It was kind of surreal, Nene had decided, the way spending so much time with her parents had made time seem to stop. She effectively only worked one day a week, spending the hours she'd normally sleep at Miribile, their odd, floating island in the Realm Between, where time was mainly a matter of opinion. Linna had joined her there as well for a couple of weeks, working to get her incredible strength under control, and Sylia had been back and forth a few times trying to understand the portal effect, but even with them, she would sometimes say or do something that would make them double-take, and suddenly realize she'd NEVER have done it 'a few days' before.
For example, she'd have to have been already drunk before grabbing Priss and hugging her in public before, but having spent so much time with little contact, her friends had become too precious to care about fussy rules of propriety even when she was technically still in her ADP uniform, though the jacket with all the badges and trim had been left in Linna's minivan. So, when Priss wandered out from the backstage area of Hot Legs, still in her stage costume but free of the big blonde wig, Nene broke off chaffering with Linna and latched onto the singer, who didn't quite seem to know what to make of it as the petite redhead enthused, "Priss! You were were usual terrific self tonight!" Then again, maybe she just couldn't breathe. Nene relaxed her grip some, not quite sure of her strength without the (currently) five-times-normal gravity of Miribile to counteract it.
"Oh, thank you," the singer replied, settling back slightly onto her feet as her hyperactive redheaded friend released her.
Linna, in a boat neck turquoise pullover with cow-spots and bluejeans, had followed the policewoman over at a much more sedate pace, still practically floating with happiness at the fun date she'd had the previous night, despite arriving for it a bit lat after trouble on the highway. She smiled beatifically, suggesting, "How about I quit my job at Phoebe's and become your manager? If you want to sign with DMI, now's the time."
Having already been treated to a variation on this spiel while they waited, Nene broke in, complaining, "Mou, there you go again," as she released the quizzical musician, raising a hand by her lips to stage whisper, "Priss, do you know that Linna says that her latest boyfriend is one of DMI's directors?"
Ignoring the dark haired Saber's happy laugh, Priss drawled, "I don't want to know. I've had it with you crying your broken heart out."
Trembling with indignation, Linna exclaimed, "Meanies! It's serious this time, I tell you! I deserve happiness too."
A faint smile belying her put on disgust, Nene teased, "Being happy with Linna? What an awful thought."
"You got that right," Priss concurred, with an almost identical look.
Not buying it in the least, the irritated dancer growled, "Ooh, you're both picking on me!"
Further teasing was preempted as Sylvie and Nam joined the group, still in their form fitting motorcycle 'leathers' - actually nanoweave synthetics far more durable than real leather and colored in bright geometric patterns. Sylvie's was light blue and white with yellow on the torso, Nam's yellow with a wide, jagged blue stripe down the middle and little metal shoulder guards. "You look like you're having fun," the darker-haired sexaroid called out. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Priss smiled briefly in welcome, before chiding, "You're late, Sylvie. I've already finished my last set."
Dipping her amber eyes, the pilot stammered, "S... sorry, I had a little... business to take care of." Brightening, she introduced, "Oh, this is my friend, Nam."
Taking the cue, the lavender haired girl stepped forward, bowing politely. "Pleased to meet you," she greeted them.
Linna had a somewhat catty expression on her face - one shared by several other women in the bar as they made perhaps less than favorable comparisons about themselves with the gorgeous new arrivals - while Nene simply seemed stunned. Priss had no such trouble, eyes screwed into happy crescents from her wide grin. "Heya! This is Nene and Linna," she enthused, returning Nene's energetic glomp from earlier and knocking the suprised redhead into Linna. Jarred out of their suprise, the other Sabers quickly schooled their expressions into reasonably welcoming smiles.
Finding her tongue first, the blue-clad girl said, "Oh, ah, you're Sylvie, then? Priss has been telling us about you - how you're so stylish, and a terrific biker."
Nene, who'd used almost that exact phrasing before Priss came out, seemed torn between rueful exasperation and sliding back into the stunned look from a moment before.
"If you were a man, I'd make a pass at you, no sweat," Linna babbled.
Silvie, honestly flattered, demurred, "Oh, you're too kind." Extending her right hand American-style, she added, "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Not entirely familiar with the custom, the Sabers blinked owlishly at it, then Linna - slowly and very, very carefully, given recent developments - took it in her own right, replying, "Oh, same here."
Nene quickly followed suit with an uncertain laugh, then Priss and Nam joined the group shake as well.
"Well, since we're all here now, how about we get going?" the singer suggested.
"All right!" cheered Linna, now that the awkward introductions were over.
Nene gestured in the center of the circle they'd formed, saying, "Speaking of which, I heard of this great American style restaurant over on Kishimoto street today - Daley told me about it before leaving for the spaceport."
"Trust Nene to know where to find food," Priss laughed. "Okay, let's go there first, then head to the club. Just give me a few minutes to get my leathers on and check on the Reps."
--=--
*No doubt about it,* Sylia thought to herself, *This place is the definition of the word 'dive.' Totally, completely, and without exception or caveat.* A flickering neon sign half-hidden down a side alley proclaimed in inaccurate French, "Cest Lavie," with the subtitle "Pool bar" over a crude pink silhouette of someone lining up a shot. From there, the shabby stairwell down to the basement business was relatively well lit, but the best thing one could say about the interior was that at least the glasses were clean, and the prostitutes tended to stick to the game tables where they could show off their legs sitting on the rail.
Nursing a tequila that wouldn't have done anything for her enhanced metabolism even before the latest changes, she sat in her red business suit and white pumps, ignoring the itching of the mouse-brown wig her too distinctive steely hair was pinned up under and the hazel contacts over her purple irises in favor of a not-quite literally frosty glare at the man she was there to meet. Restraining herself from adding an actual heatsink field in his general volume was taking a fair amount of willpower, but poor taste aside, she couldn't deny that he was the best of her informants and fixers.
Now more than ever, she needed that efficiency, and to be fair, she had asked for this meeting without much lead time. Resigning herself to the necessity of dealing with a bit of unprofessionalism in the name of results, she eased off the death-glare and took another sip. *Bleah. I never understood the point of drinking this stuff. At least it's got a high caloric value as it oxidizes.* She'd been ravenously hungry for days after pulling that stunt with the possessed Griffon, and had later discovered she'd drained the batteries of Priss's hardsuit almost to the brink of shutdown while riding behind her.
Sensing the lightened tension, the blue-suited man sitting one stool away from her took a drag on his cigarette, running a hand through his short, blond hair before taking it back between two fingers to talk. "Sorry about this, Yoshimi," he drawled, using the alias she'd developed since 'Sylia Stingray' had gone missing.
"Same as ever, Fargo," she sighed, then complained, "Why don't you wear a nicer suit, for once?"
"Hey, sorry. I've got expenses, you know?" he replied, almost sounding sincere. "With the cost of living these days, that sort of thing's out of my reach. Anyway, did you have a look at the report I sent you?"
Nodding fractionally, she ran through it once more, the data called up instantly before she queried, "Kaufman at SDPC is in the hotseat, then?" It had been implied, but he still was trying to confirm it earlier.
"You've got it," the blond fixer agreed. "He was ambitious, and he'd gone far, but apparently he fell in with a Genom splinter group, secretly built a next generation superweapon, shipped it to a space station, and planned to sell it to the communists."
"The Doomsday battlemover, 'D.D.' I've heard about it here and there. Is it already finished, then?" 'Here and there' was perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, but one of her other sources had provided partial specs for the design. It wasn't something she'd have wanted to face with the original hardsuits, and even now it would take the whole team and a full roster of motoslaves to take it down for sure. The armor formulation was what she was planning on using for the next generation of the transforming cycles.
"They have a prototype," Fargo clarified. "Now what Kaufman wants is either its recovery or its destruction. Also, find his girlfriend, seems she turned out to be the thief. No leads on her ID though."
The Saber leader hummed noncommittally. "How about Cynthia? My team is too small for a serious dragnet." Nene's parents had been unable to help, restricted to dealing with spirit world threats only, and Nene herself wasn't skilled enough with her supernatural abilities to track the former buma the way she'd been found. She'd made dream-contact once, but couldn't stay with it to follow the girl's mind back to the waking world.
The fixer took another drag off his cigarette, and rubbed his eyes. "I've pulled about all the strings I can on that and still keep it reasonably quiet. No news yet, but my people will keep looking. With the D.D. on that shuttle, I think we can figure it was just a coincidence, not some kind of distraction." He took a slug of his own drink irritably, theorizing, "Hell, maybe the kid just ran away."
"Highly unlikely," the disguised woman argued. "She and her guardians loved each other dearly. Besides, the perimeter sensors would have picked up anyone on foot or in a vehicle. There's a faint trace of what has to be the D.D. leaving, and wreckage from the shuttle as it started to break up, but nothing else bigger than a barn owl and no thruster plumes, from the time she went to bed until they discovered she was missing."
"I'll keep doing what I can," Fargo affirmed. "There haven't been any rumors of a snatch like that lately, Yoshimi." He finished his drink, and they thought silently for a minute or two.
"I take it Genom Tower is at the core of the D.D. commission?" 'Yoshimi' asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
Knowing her opinion of the zaibatsu, Fargo caught her eyes and denied, "As a matter of fact, corporate Genom has nothing to do with this incident. If they find out about it, heads are liable to roll."
Frowning seriously, Sylia considered her reply. "This is a messy job, and it's a second missing person on top of our own. It's not going to come cheap."
"I've already deposited half the fee. You should find it acceptable," the blue-suited man gloated.
Seeing his avaricious grin, Sylia accepted the inevitable. "Fargo, I'm just no match for you. OK." *We need a good paying commission to help offset equipment losses lately,* she told herself. Finishing her own drink, she set the glass carefully back down on the bar, concluding, "I'll contact you in the usual manner. Ja ne."
*Even if it is like working for Genom, we couldn't let that thing run loose. We might as well take their money for what we'd do anyway,* she thought as the bar's door closed behind her.
--=--
The others had spent the time getting to know each other a little more while waiting for Priss, and Nam's recent conversion to the ranks of the motorcycle junkies had come up in the course of it. "It's kind of hard to explain," she said, "it's just completely different from riding in a car, or even a scooter." That the cars and scooters she referred to were the (so far space-only) gravatic hover types used on the internal highway system of Genaros she left unsaid.
"Oh? I use a scooter, though I'm riding with Linna tonight, but mainly because it's cheap on power. I only have to recharge it every two or three days," the redhead replied.
The returning singer cut in with a snort. "Yeah, but you could probably get there faster on a bicycle, Nene. It'd be better for your hips, too." She couldn't help but snicker at the red-eye she got for that.
With a light smile at their antics, Nam held the door while the others filed out. "No scooter can *possibly* compare," she gushed. "Why don't you ride with me and see for yourself? Sylvie has an extra helmet."
"I could never ride one of those things," said Nene, looking unconvinced.
"I used to think the same way," replied Nam, "but it's really fun with the wind whipping at you! Come on, I'll show you!" Hearing her, Sylvie unstrapped the pearly green helmet she'd bought for Anri to use and held it out to the redhead with an encouraging grin.
For her part, Nene gave Nam's gold and white bike a doubtful look; she was wearing a skirt after all. Then again, thanks to her parents' influence she'd quickly learned to have exercise shorts on under skirts these days, so it wouldn't be that big a deal, and it did sound like fun... "Oh, why not?" she finally agreed, accepting the proffered headgear and pulling it into place, before hiking the blue ADP uniform skirt up enough to climb on behind her new acquaintance.
---=- + -=---
Continued in 08_BD_WOASS_Ch_05b.txt
Shock! Oh oh... Don't you monkey with the monkey!
-----------------------------
Notes for Part A
-----------------------------
That's right, it's a Reindeer Float(illa)-car, obtained through the use of forged Group 6 access gained when the master control program was hacked. You may groan now.
Some people may consider my treatment of the sexaroids to be rather bloodthirsty and harsh, especially given how I'd been developing the new/cameo characters right along with the canon cast. Well, I hate to say it, but all three of my additions were intended for the butcher's list from the very beginning. You'll note that I did let Hyatt get her own back first, however - since the whole Bloodsucker Barnaby subplot came up on its own, I figured it was only fair to resolve it before moving on. I've always figured there were even more buma in on the escape attempt that never made to the scenes we see in BGC, and Mina, Hyatt, and Dot got the jobs. Further... everyone has a story, but some of them get cut off before they can be finished. It's a terrible thing to do, but that's the *point.*
VENUS Beam Cannon: Essentially, this is a Ghostbusters proton pack, tuned to affect normal matter as much as possible instead of as little as possible - as detailed above, it's a pretty ferocious weapon, where the GB versions barely set toilet paper rolls on fire and scorched wallpaper.
IFF transponder: Short for 'Identification Friend or Foe,' any aircraft without one is assumed to be hostile in this timeframe thanks to the Polar War, and faces stiff penalties even if it turns out to have been a mistake or equipment failure. Essentially, a radio transmitter that constantly sends a signal saying 'this is who I am, condition normal' but they can also be set to broadcast an emergency in progress.
Nam's sonic forcefield: While squarely in the realm of anime physics, this effect is canonical for the Bionic Six's Meg, who used it in several episodes I can remember. I'd originally had the sexaroids' names confused and thought that the extra one I'd had escape was also named Meg (where she's actually Nam), hence the reference. By the time I realized the error, I'd worked her into the post-OVA plans too thoroughly to excise.
Shepard's Prayer - Formulated by Alan Shepard on the launch pad at Cape Canaveral, "Please God, don't let me fuck up."
Sclera - the scientific term for the whites of the eye - obviously, I can't call them 'whites' when Largo's are black.
Why 'Magnus' instead of 'Maxemillian' Largo? Well what other villain do we know whose name is (Erik) Magnus L____ and levitates metal objects? Canon Largo would be far too weak to be a threat even without the developments of this and the next chapter.
Canned coffee - yep, they actually do have cans of coffee in vending machines in Japan. Alcohol, too, but probably not in the workplace, at least, not in machine shop type workplaces.
Genom appears to have absorbed Suzuki at some point, though the latest GSX as of 2005 is still the 1300 Hayabusa. It's stats give a higher top speed than a 2030s ADP Interceptor in super-pursuit mode, though, so I'm not sure I even want to think about a _2_300... On an interesting note, the grey bike Priss is riding before Sylia recruits her in the (officially included in canon) _Asu e Touchdown_ music video is the same model Sylvie has in OVA 5. While this video is not Bubblegum Disaster canon, you can figure that she had one like it when she hung out with the Outriders in that time frame - which is why I say Sylvie and Nam's have been modified for greater performance, if Dr. Raven's custom built racing bike that Priss has in this OVA (apparently as good as new again after having the front oil floatation bearing fail trying to race the Griffin) is evenly matched with Sylvie's canon bike. The yellow and black riding leathers she dug out of the closet after getting her red ones trashed last episode are from the same source. I'll add an image of them to the web site and mailing list.
Linna's boyfriend, Saito Yasuo, is named for the Japanese voice actor who played the shinigami Takuto in the Full Moon Wo Sagashite anime. He also looks a bit like an older Takuto, but since Ta is your typical brown-haired anime guy aside from the shinigami costume that's not saying much.
Sylia drinking for the calories - alcohol can support an open flame, you know. She needs as much energy as she can hoard for her abilities, since that fusion backpack didn't work too well.
And yes, her new ID as "Yoshimi" is inspired by the Flaming Lips song, "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots" even though buma are rarely pink.
Nene and shorts-under-skirts: She won't wear anything that she can't kick in unless there's something under it in case it has to be hastily removed. A couple of suprise training sessions and one dream-eater surprise attack were all it took to instill this habit.
-----------------------------
Credits are in part b as well
EOF
SERVO: Loook *deeeeply* into my eyes... Tell me, what do you see?
CROW: (hypnotized) A twisted man who wants to inflict his pain upon others.
For the next 72 hours, Itachi intoned, I will slap you with this trout. - Spying no Jutsu, chapter 3
"In the futuristic taco bell of the year 20XX, justice wears an aluminum sombrero!"hemlock-martini
--
"Anko, what you do in your free time is your own choice. Use it wisely. And if you do not use it wisely, make sure you thoroughly enjoy whatever unwise thing you are doing." - HymnOfRagnorok as Orochimaru at SpaceBattles
woot Med. Eng., verb, 1st & 3rd pers. prsnt. sg. know, knows
Choji grumbled unhappily, silently wishing he'd brought another bag of Cheezy Poofs to calm his nerves. The government-owned corporation was sure to have its own investigators here shortly, agents with far too much political clout to keep sidelined while his people did their job. *Probably here specifically to keep us finding out certain things,* he growled mentally. "If we're dealing with SDPC, we might as well pack it in now," he commented sourly.
Daley nodded, ruefully agreeing, "So what we have is over our heads, in more ways than one."
"Take it with a grain of salt," Leon advised. "Down here it's our jurisdiction." Looking back down the valley, he continued, "Looks like they're on their way." The rhythmic beats of heavy helicopter rotors echoed in the distance, a trio of them appearing through the same pass the ADP aerodyne had used earlier.
---=- + -=---
Standing at the windows that made up one wall of a darkened office, a tall, well dressed man smirked disparagingly, idly playing with an antique metal coin while he listened to the office's owner chew out a subordinate over the Genaros affair. Though his angular face seemed young, his short-cropped, spiky hair was stark white, with only the faintest hint of color - a steely blue that only added to his chilling appearance. A scar on each cheek and one above his left eye formed something like an inverted, lower-case Y. The ridged flesh was slightly darker than his pallid skin, framing a pair of cybereyes much more obvious than current fashion with their dead-black sclera and segmented, golden irises. As the video call ended, he spoke without turning, eyes seemingly fixed on the flashing coin as it spun above his fingers. "It seems, at least for now, that Kaufman is still following your orders, Flint," he remarked.
"Our most immediate concern right now is the whereabouts of the DD, which was supposed to be aboard that shuttle," the portly, greying executive noted. "If ADPolice or the Tower find out about it, we'll have no choice but to temporarily cut the strings between us and our SDPC puppet, Magnus."
Turning at last, the white-haired man's mouth twisted into a scowl as he chided, "Your security is not my problem, Flint, particularly if you persist in pretending to be my superior. Rather than sever ties, YOU, and the chair you're sitting in, might simply... vanish." Unnerving eyes narrowing as he made the threat, Magnus looked over the rim of the coin which had stopped, hovering in mid air with the head side toward Flint. On his last word, it suddenly crumpled into a ball, as if crushed in some invisible, immensely strong hand.
Flint paled, but kept his voice steady as he apologized, "Sorry, Mr. Largo. Still, I know what those girls are after, and both ADPolice and the Tower *will* be investigating this. I trust you'll appreciate the risk I run shielding you."
A sarcastic snort was his only reply, as the crushed coin slowly settled on the center of his blotter. Face tight, Flint turned his chair to look out the windows himself, wondering just what manner of devil he'd chosen to ally with.
---=- + -=---
It was only with difficulty that Nene had controlled the giggle fit that threatened to overtake her as Leon dodged the Chief's coffee cup - apparently, he hadn't agreed with the official order for Daley to just take statements as a formality on his upcoming trip to the space station, and the Chief hadn't liked Leon's bullheadedness ... as usual.
She sighed as the commotion settled down again - also as usual, the paperwork on cases past and present was never ending, and despite filling in other roles - dispatcher, aide, or VIP escort - from time to time, her official position was little more than a records clerk with a badge. Therefore, the majority of the paperwork in the detectives' office was hers and Naoko's to sort, file, and/or scan into the database, and she was still playing catch-up slightly from the weeks missed after the destruction of Lady633, especially since her co-worker Naoko was on vacation herself this week.
Case in point: the Forensics Department's analysis of the remains left behind by the Griffon had been sitting in her inbox since the morning before last, and she was only now getting to it. She almost hated to take the time, but at the same time she was curious what they'd made of it, the physical remains of a supernaturally animated construct. She rather expected Sylia would want a copy once it had been converted to digital format, for that matter... maybe just a little peek?
The giggle-fit struck her with a vengeance as she flipped open the folder. Inside, instead of the usual general summary, the first page was a colored pencil sketch of the white Knight Saber, with the addition of Green's monoribbons and a miniskirt, posing in front of a crescent moon. Below it, a caption read, "MOON HEALING ESCALATION! You're dusted!" and she couldn't help it any more, she broke out in full blown laughter, imagining Sylia in place of the star of that old show, STILL in reruns to this very day.
Leon craned over from his desk, and grinned as he spotted the picture in front of her. "Finally got to that one, did you?" he asked, chuckling. "I thought you'd appreciate a laugh, with how swamped you've been lately. Fuko MacNamara drew it, she's the police artist on my squad. She usually sells them from what I understand, but you can have that one."
Somehow, it didn't seem quite so long to the end of Nene's shift after that.
---=- + -=---
At least money was something they hadn't had to worry about, thought Nam as she followed Sylive down the highway on their new motorbikes. "Thank you, Meg," she whispered. Part of the redhead's extensive preparations for the breakout had been to divert a large amount of money to a groundside account - ironically enough, through a network used by Genom itself to fund its own black ops and remain untraceable even internally. It wouldn't last forever, but carefully managed it could last a few years with only three of them...
... somehow, she'd rather have needed to find paying work sooner. *It's not the time for regrets, it's time to make good memories for all of us,* she told herself, and returned to concentrating on where she was, and what she was doing. Honestly, though she'd never been one to seek out excitement - excitement came to her all too often in the emergency ward - ever since that first blast of speed when she'd activated her advanced movement systems with Meg back on the station, Nam had found herself longing to go just a little faster, push things just a little farther. Jumping out of a crashing shuttle in the arms of a battlemover, with only an invisible barrier of sound waves between herself and being ripped apart by a supersonic slipstream had been terrifying, but also exhilarating.
Now, she was dressed in a yellow and blue jumpsuit and snuggled up to the tank of a hot, tuned and modified sport bike, only barely behind Sylvie as they tore down the bayshore highway, straining to make up the distance while keeping what she'd come to think of as her 'software accelerator' from going online. That wasn't so much because it would be an unfair advantage - though with the way it made time seem to slow to a crawl it certainly would be - but because it would no longer be a thrill to ride a bike she could outpace on foot. Until they could deal with the 33s design's somewhat limited blood regeneration, though, using that speed under anything less than life-threatening danger was out of the question.
It was with a happy grin then that she took the inside line around the curve at the deepest section of the bay, gaining several handspans on Sylvie as the two of them eased past another cyclist in the outside lane, on a red, white, and blue bike. They'd spent most of the day looking at various rides before settling on their modified Genom GSX-R 2300s, but her best guess was that it was a completely custom design. Seeing the yellow and black suited biker twist the throttle to catch them up, she released a happy laugh and let the enhanced software take over for a moment, looking back over her shoulder and casually waving to join the race. She shut it down again as she faced forward, the third woman rapidly catching up.
--=--
Not too much later, all three of them had pulled off at a beach on the north end of the bay to watch the sunset and eat odango from a nearby yatai. The custom bike's rider had introduced herself as Priss, a musician, and had recognized the tuning shop logo on their bikes on sight. She paid for her fresh-off-the-grill odango and turned back to the sexaroids, remarking, "Kaneda must have done a number on those old Gixers to get that kind of performance - I had one a few years back and it was fast, but nothing close to what we were pulling just now." She took a bite of one of the meatballs and yelped, washing it down with a quick swig of juice before blowing on the ones still on the spike.
While Nam suppressed a grin, Sylvie replied, "Do you know him, then? I got a good look at his collection of custom bike pictures, but I don't remember anything like yours."
Still waiting for her food to cool, the singer nodded, but explained, "This is a scratch built design from Raven's Garage - it's not too far from Kaneda's actually, but Doc doesn't keep a showroom and it's down in the canyons, so it's more of a word of mouth kind of place. Even some people who've been in the bike scene for years don't know about it."
"I see," said Nam, joining the conversation. "Since we're both new in town, it's no surprise we missed it, in that case. We needed some wheels right away, so if he only does special orders it wouldn't have helped anyway, but maybe when it's time to trade up?"
"Well, he doesn't handle a lot of clients, but I'll introduce you and see what he says, at least." Finally deciding her odango had cooled enough, Priss took another careful bite, then pulled the rest of the top meatball of the skewer, chewing it energetically before concluding, "It's definitely the place to go if you want to see the hottest bike in town, though." That it was still kinda on the trashed side, in no small part due to her, she kept to herself. *At least Mackie let up on making me fix it, finally. Must have realized it wasn't getting anywhere except when Doc helped, and with that new project taking his attention, that's not so often as I hoped.*
Sylvie and Nam had already finished their meatballs, and with the sun now below the horizon were getting ready to head back to the apartment they'd rented. Seeing this, Priss called to them, "My band is playing all week at Hot Legs, on Hayate street. Come check us out some time if you like retrothrash, eh?"
Pausing with her helmet in her lap, Sylvie winked at the red-eyed singer, grinning as she confirmed, "Okay, it's a date!" - which came as something of a surprise to Nam. She'd gotten a good vibe from the woman, but had thought Sylvie quite attached to Anri. With a slight shrug, she fastened her own helmet and returned Priss's wave before starting up the bike's engine and rolling out.
Seeing them well gone, Priss shot her own bike a disgusted look and complained, "Geeze, custom built gas hog and it still barely beats a pair of Kaneda's cookie cutter, Genom kiss up, hack jobs. I don't know who should be more pissed, me or Pops."
---=- + -=---
Linna could hear Sylia talking to one of her contacts in the other room as she changed - something about arms smugglers - but her mind was anywhere but on their 'knight work' at the moment. Everyone had been busy the past couple of days after realizing Cynthia disappeared the same night as the shuttle had crashed, in an unsuccessful repeat of the search they'd done when first hired to find her. The white saber had been as close to frantic as Linna could remember ever seeing her, out of worry for their secrecy and - she suspected - for the little girl, miraculously made flesh and blood a few months ago, who'd slowly been working her way into all of their hearts. Mr. and Mrs. Akimoto had been the hardest hit in that respect, the elderly couple who'd all but adopted the child joining in the legwork where they could.
Perhaps the most disturbing part of it was that Sylia *hadn't* run them all off to another location like she had when Priss's weird stalker-robot had infiltrated their original headquarters (though everyone had received two sets of alternate identities, complete with bank accounts and travel visas) suggesting that she didn't have another prepared fallback position this time. None of that had her full attention at the moment, of course, because with the search called off this evening she had far more important concerns on her mind: getting ready for tonight's date!
Usually she used her own apartment, of course, having moved back in as soon as things settled down after the Lady633 fiasco, but had come to get a set of special-order clothes Sylia had whipped up for her. The reasons for *that* were what was foremost on her mind... Ever since she'd woken up from being crushed in her hardsuit fighting the possessed Griffon, her strength had been almost uncontrollable, and it had caused quite a few problems. She'd had to stop doing hands-on instruction in her karate classes at Phoebe's Gym after putting a student's shoulder out of joint accidentally, and any outfit not made of bulletproof nanoweave fabric tended to get torn to shreds if something so much as startled her. Hiryuko had guessed that there had been lasting physical damage as a result of all the years she'd spent with her ki turned against itself, even after Kami-sama had straightened it out - damage repaired along with everything else by the Kagami woman's Ritual of Ultimate Restoration.
As inconvenient and frustrating as that was, however, the fact that the furry brown tail she'd finally remembered having had grown back was far more alarming... she wasn't sure why she hadn't gone to get it removed yet, herself. It made her balance strange unless she wrapped it around her waist, was fiendishly sensitive and uncomfortable in a hardsuit even if she did, and had to be hidden somehow when she was in public. She'd been wearing a lot of silk sashes these days, and really had no idea what she was going to do if her date tonight turned out especially well. Yasuo was a nice guy and all, but...
Maybe she could pass it off as an exotic piece of cybernetics? An impulsive teenage addition when they were fashionable, kept as a reminder to avoid future foolishness?
She cleared her mind with an unhappy sound, concentrating on getting the green tabard to hang artistically over her black bodysuit and the knot on her red sash to be loose enough for comfort but tight enough to keep her errant new member well hidden. She'd traded her usual yellow bandanna for matching red, as well. "I do wonder who comes up with these fashions," she murmured to herself. "Between this and the white high-heel boots I look like some bizarre manga character."
Oh well, at least having the sash around her waist made the otherwise loose garment a bit more form-fitting. Then again, she was his date to a media industry party, sure to be filled with the latest music idols and TV stars. Did she *really* want to invite comparisons? At least the tabard's flared shoulders made her waist and hips look that much thinner, and the one wholly positive aspect of her physical changes lately was that her boobs hadn't lost any size, even while the rest of her body fat seemed to melt away. If anything, the underlying pectoral muscles had grown, firming them up more and adding a full cup size. Feeling much more confident in herself, she grinned at the hot chick in the mirror, boasting, "Let those stick figure songbirds try starting anything. He's there with *me*, and any kitten who tries to use more than words is gonna find herself facing a mountain lion!" Her frame of mind much improved, Linna brushed a hand through her black hair - fortunately, spiky was in at the moment, so she didn't have to try to plaster it down - and headed out, absently noting that Sylia had finished her call and vanished again as she passed through. She was due to meet her beau at a cafe in fifteen minutes or so, but it wouldn't hurt him to wait a little, so the long drive back into Megatokyo wouldn't be a problem.
---=- + -=---
It was a rainy night a few days later, and while some parts of the city were as active as ever the Kawasaki industrial district was quiet, abandoned to the terminally over-dedicated and a few night watchmen, be they human or buma. At a small Genom service center placed there to capitalize on the buma workforce by providing technicians for on-site repairs, a guard of the human variety was cursing whatever idiot had scheduled both of the usual buma watchmen for a maintenance cycle this evening, the almost-burned-out parking lot floodlamp that gave only sporadic bursts of light, the low quality of coffee stocked in the break room vending machine, and pretty much everything else in the immediate vicinity right on down to the leak in his left shoe.
"At least the damn things will be up in an hour or so and I can finally go home," he grumbled, crumpling his latest coffee can. As he came out the door for another hurried circuit around the outside of the building, a flash of movement caught his eye when the floodlight flickered on for a moment. Pointing his flashlight that way revealed something big and red with a girl standing in front of it, taking off a clear visor of some kind. Before he could get more than a glimpse of her, she blurred and vanished, suddenly reappearing a few feet in front of him, his flashlight beam illuminating her yellow and blue-clad chest. Still in shock, he goggled at the intruder, light purple hair slicked down by the rain and framing terrifying, glowing ... red ...
As the guardsman collapsed, Nam leapt forward again to catch him, then used his key to open the door and drag him inside. Opening the repair bay door for Sylvie to bring the DD in and under cover from prying eyes was the work of moments, then the both of them set to work at data terminals, using the centers' link to the private Genom corporate network to look for the data they needed. Though they hadn't fully succeeded when the guard buma started to come back online later on, they had some good leads, and with the DD it was a simple matter to crush them, destroy the shop to hide their tracks, and be gone before any backup or investigation could arrive.
--=--
It was kind of surreal, Nene had decided, the way spending so much time with her parents had made time seem to stop. She effectively only worked one day a week, spending the hours she'd normally sleep at Miribile, their odd, floating island in the Realm Between, where time was mainly a matter of opinion. Linna had joined her there as well for a couple of weeks, working to get her incredible strength under control, and Sylia had been back and forth a few times trying to understand the portal effect, but even with them, she would sometimes say or do something that would make them double-take, and suddenly realize she'd NEVER have done it 'a few days' before.
For example, she'd have to have been already drunk before grabbing Priss and hugging her in public before, but having spent so much time with little contact, her friends had become too precious to care about fussy rules of propriety even when she was technically still in her ADP uniform, though the jacket with all the badges and trim had been left in Linna's minivan. So, when Priss wandered out from the backstage area of Hot Legs, still in her stage costume but free of the big blonde wig, Nene broke off chaffering with Linna and latched onto the singer, who didn't quite seem to know what to make of it as the petite redhead enthused, "Priss! You were were usual terrific self tonight!" Then again, maybe she just couldn't breathe. Nene relaxed her grip some, not quite sure of her strength without the (currently) five-times-normal gravity of Miribile to counteract it.
"Oh, thank you," the singer replied, settling back slightly onto her feet as her hyperactive redheaded friend released her.
Linna, in a boat neck turquoise pullover with cow-spots and bluejeans, had followed the policewoman over at a much more sedate pace, still practically floating with happiness at the fun date she'd had the previous night, despite arriving for it a bit lat after trouble on the highway. She smiled beatifically, suggesting, "How about I quit my job at Phoebe's and become your manager? If you want to sign with DMI, now's the time."
Having already been treated to a variation on this spiel while they waited, Nene broke in, complaining, "Mou, there you go again," as she released the quizzical musician, raising a hand by her lips to stage whisper, "Priss, do you know that Linna says that her latest boyfriend is one of DMI's directors?"
Ignoring the dark haired Saber's happy laugh, Priss drawled, "I don't want to know. I've had it with you crying your broken heart out."
Trembling with indignation, Linna exclaimed, "Meanies! It's serious this time, I tell you! I deserve happiness too."
A faint smile belying her put on disgust, Nene teased, "Being happy with Linna? What an awful thought."
"You got that right," Priss concurred, with an almost identical look.
Not buying it in the least, the irritated dancer growled, "Ooh, you're both picking on me!"
Further teasing was preempted as Sylvie and Nam joined the group, still in their form fitting motorcycle 'leathers' - actually nanoweave synthetics far more durable than real leather and colored in bright geometric patterns. Sylvie's was light blue and white with yellow on the torso, Nam's yellow with a wide, jagged blue stripe down the middle and little metal shoulder guards. "You look like you're having fun," the darker-haired sexaroid called out. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Priss smiled briefly in welcome, before chiding, "You're late, Sylvie. I've already finished my last set."
Dipping her amber eyes, the pilot stammered, "S... sorry, I had a little... business to take care of." Brightening, she introduced, "Oh, this is my friend, Nam."
Taking the cue, the lavender haired girl stepped forward, bowing politely. "Pleased to meet you," she greeted them.
Linna had a somewhat catty expression on her face - one shared by several other women in the bar as they made perhaps less than favorable comparisons about themselves with the gorgeous new arrivals - while Nene simply seemed stunned. Priss had no such trouble, eyes screwed into happy crescents from her wide grin. "Heya! This is Nene and Linna," she enthused, returning Nene's energetic glomp from earlier and knocking the suprised redhead into Linna. Jarred out of their suprise, the other Sabers quickly schooled their expressions into reasonably welcoming smiles.
Finding her tongue first, the blue-clad girl said, "Oh, ah, you're Sylvie, then? Priss has been telling us about you - how you're so stylish, and a terrific biker."
Nene, who'd used almost that exact phrasing before Priss came out, seemed torn between rueful exasperation and sliding back into the stunned look from a moment before.
"If you were a man, I'd make a pass at you, no sweat," Linna babbled.
Silvie, honestly flattered, demurred, "Oh, you're too kind." Extending her right hand American-style, she added, "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Not entirely familiar with the custom, the Sabers blinked owlishly at it, then Linna - slowly and very, very carefully, given recent developments - took it in her own right, replying, "Oh, same here."
Nene quickly followed suit with an uncertain laugh, then Priss and Nam joined the group shake as well.
"Well, since we're all here now, how about we get going?" the singer suggested.
"All right!" cheered Linna, now that the awkward introductions were over.
Nene gestured in the center of the circle they'd formed, saying, "Speaking of which, I heard of this great American style restaurant over on Kishimoto street today - Daley told me about it before leaving for the spaceport."
"Trust Nene to know where to find food," Priss laughed. "Okay, let's go there first, then head to the club. Just give me a few minutes to get my leathers on and check on the Reps."
--=--
*No doubt about it,* Sylia thought to herself, *This place is the definition of the word 'dive.' Totally, completely, and without exception or caveat.* A flickering neon sign half-hidden down a side alley proclaimed in inaccurate French, "Cest Lavie," with the subtitle "Pool bar" over a crude pink silhouette of someone lining up a shot. From there, the shabby stairwell down to the basement business was relatively well lit, but the best thing one could say about the interior was that at least the glasses were clean, and the prostitutes tended to stick to the game tables where they could show off their legs sitting on the rail.
Nursing a tequila that wouldn't have done anything for her enhanced metabolism even before the latest changes, she sat in her red business suit and white pumps, ignoring the itching of the mouse-brown wig her too distinctive steely hair was pinned up under and the hazel contacts over her purple irises in favor of a not-quite literally frosty glare at the man she was there to meet. Restraining herself from adding an actual heatsink field in his general volume was taking a fair amount of willpower, but poor taste aside, she couldn't deny that he was the best of her informants and fixers.
Now more than ever, she needed that efficiency, and to be fair, she had asked for this meeting without much lead time. Resigning herself to the necessity of dealing with a bit of unprofessionalism in the name of results, she eased off the death-glare and took another sip. *Bleah. I never understood the point of drinking this stuff. At least it's got a high caloric value as it oxidizes.* She'd been ravenously hungry for days after pulling that stunt with the possessed Griffon, and had later discovered she'd drained the batteries of Priss's hardsuit almost to the brink of shutdown while riding behind her.
Sensing the lightened tension, the blue-suited man sitting one stool away from her took a drag on his cigarette, running a hand through his short, blond hair before taking it back between two fingers to talk. "Sorry about this, Yoshimi," he drawled, using the alias she'd developed since 'Sylia Stingray' had gone missing.
"Same as ever, Fargo," she sighed, then complained, "Why don't you wear a nicer suit, for once?"
"Hey, sorry. I've got expenses, you know?" he replied, almost sounding sincere. "With the cost of living these days, that sort of thing's out of my reach. Anyway, did you have a look at the report I sent you?"
Nodding fractionally, she ran through it once more, the data called up instantly before she queried, "Kaufman at SDPC is in the hotseat, then?" It had been implied, but he still was trying to confirm it earlier.
"You've got it," the blond fixer agreed. "He was ambitious, and he'd gone far, but apparently he fell in with a Genom splinter group, secretly built a next generation superweapon, shipped it to a space station, and planned to sell it to the communists."
"The Doomsday battlemover, 'D.D.' I've heard about it here and there. Is it already finished, then?" 'Here and there' was perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, but one of her other sources had provided partial specs for the design. It wasn't something she'd have wanted to face with the original hardsuits, and even now it would take the whole team and a full roster of motoslaves to take it down for sure. The armor formulation was what she was planning on using for the next generation of the transforming cycles.
"They have a prototype," Fargo clarified. "Now what Kaufman wants is either its recovery or its destruction. Also, find his girlfriend, seems she turned out to be the thief. No leads on her ID though."
The Saber leader hummed noncommittally. "How about Cynthia? My team is too small for a serious dragnet." Nene's parents had been unable to help, restricted to dealing with spirit world threats only, and Nene herself wasn't skilled enough with her supernatural abilities to track the former buma the way she'd been found. She'd made dream-contact once, but couldn't stay with it to follow the girl's mind back to the waking world.
The fixer took another drag off his cigarette, and rubbed his eyes. "I've pulled about all the strings I can on that and still keep it reasonably quiet. No news yet, but my people will keep looking. With the D.D. on that shuttle, I think we can figure it was just a coincidence, not some kind of distraction." He took a slug of his own drink irritably, theorizing, "Hell, maybe the kid just ran away."
"Highly unlikely," the disguised woman argued. "She and her guardians loved each other dearly. Besides, the perimeter sensors would have picked up anyone on foot or in a vehicle. There's a faint trace of what has to be the D.D. leaving, and wreckage from the shuttle as it started to break up, but nothing else bigger than a barn owl and no thruster plumes, from the time she went to bed until they discovered she was missing."
"I'll keep doing what I can," Fargo affirmed. "There haven't been any rumors of a snatch like that lately, Yoshimi." He finished his drink, and they thought silently for a minute or two.
"I take it Genom Tower is at the core of the D.D. commission?" 'Yoshimi' asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
Knowing her opinion of the zaibatsu, Fargo caught her eyes and denied, "As a matter of fact, corporate Genom has nothing to do with this incident. If they find out about it, heads are liable to roll."
Frowning seriously, Sylia considered her reply. "This is a messy job, and it's a second missing person on top of our own. It's not going to come cheap."
"I've already deposited half the fee. You should find it acceptable," the blue-suited man gloated.
Seeing his avaricious grin, Sylia accepted the inevitable. "Fargo, I'm just no match for you. OK." *We need a good paying commission to help offset equipment losses lately,* she told herself. Finishing her own drink, she set the glass carefully back down on the bar, concluding, "I'll contact you in the usual manner. Ja ne."
*Even if it is like working for Genom, we couldn't let that thing run loose. We might as well take their money for what we'd do anyway,* she thought as the bar's door closed behind her.
--=--
The others had spent the time getting to know each other a little more while waiting for Priss, and Nam's recent conversion to the ranks of the motorcycle junkies had come up in the course of it. "It's kind of hard to explain," she said, "it's just completely different from riding in a car, or even a scooter." That the cars and scooters she referred to were the (so far space-only) gravatic hover types used on the internal highway system of Genaros she left unsaid.
"Oh? I use a scooter, though I'm riding with Linna tonight, but mainly because it's cheap on power. I only have to recharge it every two or three days," the redhead replied.
The returning singer cut in with a snort. "Yeah, but you could probably get there faster on a bicycle, Nene. It'd be better for your hips, too." She couldn't help but snicker at the red-eye she got for that.
With a light smile at their antics, Nam held the door while the others filed out. "No scooter can *possibly* compare," she gushed. "Why don't you ride with me and see for yourself? Sylvie has an extra helmet."
"I could never ride one of those things," said Nene, looking unconvinced.
"I used to think the same way," replied Nam, "but it's really fun with the wind whipping at you! Come on, I'll show you!" Hearing her, Sylvie unstrapped the pearly green helmet she'd bought for Anri to use and held it out to the redhead with an encouraging grin.
For her part, Nene gave Nam's gold and white bike a doubtful look; she was wearing a skirt after all. Then again, thanks to her parents' influence she'd quickly learned to have exercise shorts on under skirts these days, so it wouldn't be that big a deal, and it did sound like fun... "Oh, why not?" she finally agreed, accepting the proffered headgear and pulling it into place, before hiking the blue ADP uniform skirt up enough to climb on behind her new acquaintance.
---=- + -=---
Continued in 08_BD_WOASS_Ch_05b.txt
Shock! Oh oh... Don't you monkey with the monkey!
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Notes for Part A
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That's right, it's a Reindeer Float(illa)-car, obtained through the use of forged Group 6 access gained when the master control program was hacked. You may groan now.
Some people may consider my treatment of the sexaroids to be rather bloodthirsty and harsh, especially given how I'd been developing the new/cameo characters right along with the canon cast. Well, I hate to say it, but all three of my additions were intended for the butcher's list from the very beginning. You'll note that I did let Hyatt get her own back first, however - since the whole Bloodsucker Barnaby subplot came up on its own, I figured it was only fair to resolve it before moving on. I've always figured there were even more buma in on the escape attempt that never made to the scenes we see in BGC, and Mina, Hyatt, and Dot got the jobs. Further... everyone has a story, but some of them get cut off before they can be finished. It's a terrible thing to do, but that's the *point.*
VENUS Beam Cannon: Essentially, this is a Ghostbusters proton pack, tuned to affect normal matter as much as possible instead of as little as possible - as detailed above, it's a pretty ferocious weapon, where the GB versions barely set toilet paper rolls on fire and scorched wallpaper.
IFF transponder: Short for 'Identification Friend or Foe,' any aircraft without one is assumed to be hostile in this timeframe thanks to the Polar War, and faces stiff penalties even if it turns out to have been a mistake or equipment failure. Essentially, a radio transmitter that constantly sends a signal saying 'this is who I am, condition normal' but they can also be set to broadcast an emergency in progress.
Nam's sonic forcefield: While squarely in the realm of anime physics, this effect is canonical for the Bionic Six's Meg, who used it in several episodes I can remember. I'd originally had the sexaroids' names confused and thought that the extra one I'd had escape was also named Meg (where she's actually Nam), hence the reference. By the time I realized the error, I'd worked her into the post-OVA plans too thoroughly to excise.
Shepard's Prayer - Formulated by Alan Shepard on the launch pad at Cape Canaveral, "Please God, don't let me fuck up."
Sclera - the scientific term for the whites of the eye - obviously, I can't call them 'whites' when Largo's are black.
Why 'Magnus' instead of 'Maxemillian' Largo? Well what other villain do we know whose name is (Erik) Magnus L____ and levitates metal objects? Canon Largo would be far too weak to be a threat even without the developments of this and the next chapter.
Canned coffee - yep, they actually do have cans of coffee in vending machines in Japan. Alcohol, too, but probably not in the workplace, at least, not in machine shop type workplaces.
Genom appears to have absorbed Suzuki at some point, though the latest GSX as of 2005 is still the 1300 Hayabusa. It's stats give a higher top speed than a 2030s ADP Interceptor in super-pursuit mode, though, so I'm not sure I even want to think about a _2_300... On an interesting note, the grey bike Priss is riding before Sylia recruits her in the (officially included in canon) _Asu e Touchdown_ music video is the same model Sylvie has in OVA 5. While this video is not Bubblegum Disaster canon, you can figure that she had one like it when she hung out with the Outriders in that time frame - which is why I say Sylvie and Nam's have been modified for greater performance, if Dr. Raven's custom built racing bike that Priss has in this OVA (apparently as good as new again after having the front oil floatation bearing fail trying to race the Griffin) is evenly matched with Sylvie's canon bike. The yellow and black riding leathers she dug out of the closet after getting her red ones trashed last episode are from the same source. I'll add an image of them to the web site and mailing list.
Linna's boyfriend, Saito Yasuo, is named for the Japanese voice actor who played the shinigami Takuto in the Full Moon Wo Sagashite anime. He also looks a bit like an older Takuto, but since Ta is your typical brown-haired anime guy aside from the shinigami costume that's not saying much.
Sylia drinking for the calories - alcohol can support an open flame, you know. She needs as much energy as she can hoard for her abilities, since that fusion backpack didn't work too well.
And yes, her new ID as "Yoshimi" is inspired by the Flaming Lips song, "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots" even though buma are rarely pink.
Nene and shorts-under-skirts: She won't wear anything that she can't kick in unless there's something under it in case it has to be hastily removed. A couple of suprise training sessions and one dream-eater surprise attack were all it took to instill this habit.
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Credits are in part b as well
EOF
SERVO: Loook *deeeeply* into my eyes... Tell me, what do you see?
CROW: (hypnotized) A twisted man who wants to inflict his pain upon others.
For the next 72 hours, Itachi intoned, I will slap you with this trout. - Spying no Jutsu, chapter 3
"In the futuristic taco bell of the year 20XX, justice wears an aluminum sombrero!"hemlock-martini
--
"Anko, what you do in your free time is your own choice. Use it wisely. And if you do not use it wisely, make sure you thoroughly enjoy whatever unwise thing you are doing." - HymnOfRagnorok as Orochimaru at SpaceBattles
woot Med. Eng., verb, 1st & 3rd pers. prsnt. sg. know, knows