Sabre Stories: Current Events

[OpMegs]

Lisa scowled as she sprinted through downtown King's Row, moving much faster than she ever had been able to during her time in high school track and field.
Concentrating, she avoided the flow of pedestrians with an almost eerie skill, from her perspective, compared to her older clutziness that'd convinced her
she'd be better off in a non-athletic field.

Dart to the left around a street vendor. Vault over a newspaper vending machine. Speed up a little to get across an alley before a car pulled out. Twist around
and duck to avoid getting hit in the face with the backwash of a hero with jet boots taking off. Briefly consider violating personal vow that "I, Lisa
Vanette, will not use the suit of Sabre power armor sitting in my closet as a cheap way to avoid being late for work due to my own oversleeping". Dodge
small pack of the native Paragonian Attack Chihuahuas. See tall man in front of her too soon to avoid.

WHAM.

Lisa groaned as she pulled herself up from the sidewalk, before frantically beginning to stuff her various papers and files back into her bag. She heard the
guy start to apologize and then a gasp of shock or surprise. She glanced up at him as she finished stuffing the last of the man-made jack in the box in
training that was her bag's contents into their former container, but then glanced at her watch.

"Sorry about that! Gotta go! Bye!"

And then she was off again.

***

"Two minutes before you'd be late. Not bad, Lees," Naoko chuckled as the bedraggled looking girl reporter pulled herself into the PSI entryway.
"Why don't you sit down and I'll give you a few minutes before telling HE-AT you're here, let you catch your breath."

"Thanks....Naoko...you're a.....life saver..." Lisa wheezed. "Ran into....some guy....on the street....was going so fast...."

"Oh? He cute?" Naoko chuckled. "Maybe it can be love at first kinetic impact."

"Ehhhh..." Lisa said, making a noncomittal wave of her hand. "He wasn't bad looking. Bout 6 something, black motorcycle leathers with a
Harley patch, blonde, caucasian," she rattled off. "But he was kinda creepy, really. He started to help me but then stared at me for the whole two
minutes it took to put my stuff back in my bag, and when I looked at him after, he was pale as a sheet. Like he'd seen a ghost or something."

"Oh. Maybe you remind him of a dead lover or something from a past life," Naoko teased.

"Ha, fat chance," Lisa laughed. "Never seen the guy before in my life."

***

(I'd say it was all MD's fault, but all he did was go "DO IT!" when I mentioned the idea in the first place, so I think my brain'd be
guilty of the charge in 49 states' courts of law. )
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."

[Matrix Dragon]

*Falls down laughing like a madman.*

[Bob Schroeck]

Bwahahahahahahahaha!

Followup, please!

(Oh, and don't forget, Sailor Loon is now in Paragon City. I have no idea how that version of Lisa fits in; she was originally from another server and I
brought her over to join the 11th Hour -- which she hasn't yet -- but it might be fun to see Doug bracketed by twin Lisas...)
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

[Bob Schroeck]

"Are we completely cut off from outside signals here?"

The electronically-filtered voice emanated from the armor of yet another Sabre candidate, this one a deep, rich blue with white highlights.

Within her own white armor, Sylia nodded. "Except for a hardwired comm line that will allow me to call for more help if it's needed, yes, we are
completely insulated from any type of electronic signal, and most kinds of magical communication. As per your request." And an odd request at that, one
that practically screamed "trap" to Sylia's well-honed instincts. But the applicant had clearly foreseen this and offered several compromises as
a show of good faith.

Sylia had taken two of them -- not only did she have the comm line, she also had Priss and Linna -- in their own hardsuits, of course -- standing
in the corners behind this new applicant. Short of her being a suicide bomber, there was little she could do to harm anyone here.

"Good," the candidate, her entire posture relaxing so thoroughly that the armor itself seemed to slump in relief. "That will make my story
so much easier to believe."

Inside Sylia's helmet, an eyebrow arched. "And why is that, Miss...?"

"Call me Life Sabre."

Sylia nodded. "Life Sabre," she repeated in acknowledgement. "And your civilian identity?"

The blue armor's "body language" lost some of its relaxed looseness. "I can't tell you that."

Sylia nodded again. "I understand. Several of our members were hesitant to reveal..."

The blue helmet shook vigorously. "No, you don't understand. It's not that I won't tell you. I literally can't.
I... I don't know who I am."

Sitting up straighter in her seat, Sylia studied the blue armor before her. "Amnesia? How complete?"

An electronic sigh filled the room. "Pretty much total, as far as personal identity is concerned. I have language and social skills, thankfully, and
a few professional skills, but no memories to go with them that I didn't acquire after being activated in that Crey lab."

"Surely you've at least got the alias you've used since escaping." Sylia frowned as something niggled at her. "You must have had to
give a name to someone since then -- we can use that if you like."

"No, you still don't understand. I'll have to show you." The hiss of the hardsuit's seals cracking momentarily startled Priss and
Linna into combat readiness, but Sylia held up a hand to hold them off -- until the suit opened and the faceplate swung up to reveal...

Nothing.

The blue and white hardsuit was totally empty.

"I remember only a few things about the time after I woke up," the same filtered voice continued, still emanating from the speakers of the empty
suit. "It's pretty foggy, but I think I was in the lab for a week or two before I realized I had to try to escape." A bitter chuckle, its tones
flattened and flanged by the suit's vocoder, drifted across the table that separated them. "I bungled my attempt. I thought it would be easier to
slip out disguised as an employee instead of trying to bust out using a suit of armor that had almost no offensive abilities." The empty hardsuit shook
its helmet. "Bad idea. At the first checkpoint I got made. I panicked, tried to fight my way through, and was thoroughly skewered by one of those
blue-suited zombie supers of theirs. Because I couldn't think of anything else I retreated back to the lab and barricaded it as well as I could, given I
was bleeding to death. The last thing I did was try to get into my armor in the hopes I could heal myself -- did I mention that's what it does?"

"No," Sylia murmured, still in shock from the unexpected revelation.

Blue armored shoulders shrugged. "Yeah. It's got all kinds of Rikti-based medical equipment in it. I'm supposed to be some sort of in-combat
healer, from what little I remember of that. So I'm like, halfway in the suit when I... when I..." The modulated voice dropped to a
whisper like the sound of an empty radio channel. "When I died."

The room was silent for almost a minute before Life Sabre continued. "And then I woke back up in time to watch Crey Security throw my body in a
wheeled bin marked 'Secure Disposal'."

"Christ," Priss hissed.

"It took me about five seconds to realize I'd somehow moved my... mind, or soul, or whatever... into the suit. It took me about five minutes more
to realize that not everything came with me -- I'd lost any memory of who I was, other than a few vague wisps here and there." Another chuckle, this
one less bitter. "And it took me about six days stuck in a Crey equipment locker to figure out how to operate this thing from the inside. By then I had
a much better escape plan thought out."

With a series of hisses and clicks the blue hardsuit sealed itself back up.

"You see why I wanted a completely insulated room now? So you wouldn't think I was actually some remote-controlled drone sent by Crey to take you
out."

Shaking off her shock, Sylia nodded. "Of course. And you wish to join us because...?"

The hardsuit assumed a posture of mild indignation. "Well, where else can I go? We share the same origins, after all. And I'm pretty
sure your people have the best handle on service and maintenance for this kind of armor. That's kind of critical to me at the moment. And I'm hoping
that maybe, just maybe, your people will learn enough to get me back into a real body -- or the next best thing -- someday." Yet another chuckle, this
one full-throated and genuine despite its electronic origin. "I can certainly pay my way in trade."

"And surely you'll want help determining -- and hopefully restoring -- your original identity?" Sylia offered as she weighed the benefits of
yet another healer in the Sabres against the special needs this new Sabre might have.

Life Sabre tilted her head. (Her? Sylia asked herself. Yes, her. Whatever else it was, the personality within the empty armor was very
distinctly female.) "Maybe. I'm not sure. I get the feeling I was a bit of a ditz, and I'm not sure I want to go back to that."

"Fair enough." Sylia glanced over Life Sabre's head to her two companions. Priss shrugged infinitesimally. Linna held a thumb up. She
added their responses to her own and came to a conclusion. Standing, she held out a hand and said, "In that case, I'd like to welcome you to the
team, Life Sabre."

Life Sabre took her hand and shook it. "Thank you, Silicon Sabre. You don't know how much this means to me."

Sylia released the catch on her faceplate, allowing it to swing up to reveal her face. "You're welcome... and call me Sylia."

---

So... I know sooner or later someone will ask me who Life Sabre was. I can confidently tell you -- I have no idea. I dreamed up this idea to avoid having to
come up with another blenderized combination of fictional characters. The "ditz" comment above is not intended to be indicative of anything except
that whoever she originally was, she wasn't much on sophisticated thinking, given her first escape attempt. (Although it did lead me into thinking about
coming up with a Sabre based on Mihoshi from Tenchi Muyo! -- Ditz Sabre, anyone? Except I can't find an archetype with a Dingbat primary and
Genius secondary... )

And yeah, Sylia may be a little too trusting at the end there. There are still other options that would allow Life Sabre to be a sleeper agent or other
threat. But going through them all would have derailed this piece rather thoroughly. Let us assume that before, during and after this interview, Sylia and
her elite tech people did the proper due diligence on Life Sabre.

Oh, yeah, and in case it isn't obvious, the name and color scheme are a gag -- based on the colors of the wrapper for Pep-O-Mint Life Savers.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

[dark seraph]

briliant, if a little sad and creepy

[OpMegs]

Bob Schroeck wrote:

---

And yeah, Sylia may be a little too trusting at the end there. There are still other options that would allow Life Sabre to be a sleeper agent or other
threat. But going through them all would have derailed this piece rather thoroughly. Let us assume that before, during and after this interview, Sylia and
her elite tech people did the proper due diligence on Life Sabre.

I dunno. Sylia's gotten a bit more trusting, but I also see plenty of room for anything short of a small nuclear device being prevented from
harming her in the piece. A simple conventional bomb fit into the suit wouldn't take Sylia out at that range. *l*

Similarly, while she is somewhat cautious with her name....well, if Life Sabre were a Crey plant, knowing Sylia's
first name would hardly be a wonderful windfall of intelligence for them, after all. However....well, when you're a ghost in a shell....that little bit of
extra human contact can go a long way.

Of course, I liked this a lot, but I can't help but note that it's certainly not doing the "I don't
know who she is under the armor" by halves. :lol
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."

[Sofaspud]

Bob... I've been meaning to call this to your attention for the longest time, I really have.

You, sir, have the most incredible ability to make me shake my head in wonder and say to myself, "Why on Earth didn't I think of that?" on a regular basis.

Very nice. I'm ... intrigued, by where this could go. And that's a brilliant bit of foreshadowing -- whether you make use of it or not -- you've
got in there.

**applauds**

--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs

[Bob Schroeck]

Thanks, guys.

Yeah. the thought that her body ended up a Scimitar had occurred to me... but I think I'm playing all the villains I can really handle at the moment.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

[OpMegs]

The first thing that occurred to Allison upon entering the holographic environment that served as the setting for her current social outing was that she
hadn't thought Dani a fan of rave music. Being trapped in a computer program for fifteen years, a lot of Dani's social tastes were slightly out of
date, even if she was rapidly adapting to the 21st century with a speed that boggled Allison at times. She was more of a slow and steady type herself, so while
the other woman's dogged determination to catch up with the years she'd lost was something Allison could empathize with, the speed at which she managed
to do so still left her a little breathless.

Not that the invitation to take her dancing in a private holographic program, the only way that Dani could manifest herself now with her own physical body long
dead, hadn't hit Allison like a 2x4 across the eyes. Allison was simply the type of personality to take it in stride while trying to make that stride
something that would pass a spot check for alcohol consumption.

Nonetheless, the very punk rave music seemed out of character....and as she saw the Freakshow patrolling the dance club, she knew something wasn't right.
Sighing, she summoned the digital representation of her armor and got to work.

***

"Seriously, do you guys have ANY concept of privacy? I'm not a zoo exhibit or anything," Dani said, glaring balefully at the motley collection of
hackers who'd invaded what she'd planned to be a simple, enjoyable date. "Seriously, I've been seen on the net, I've chatted with a few of
you, even given digital autographs. And you can't leave me alone even then?"

"Excuse me," a voice said, and one of the hackers looked over his shoulder....and up...and up...and up....into an armored faceplate, going pale even
as Dani's face broke into a wide grin. "Would you be bothering the lady?" Demolition Sabre asked.

"Yes, they would. Could you clear a little room?" Dani asked.

"Right. Private party boys. Out you go," Demo said.

***

"Duuuude...that $Ux0red," Tom groaned, the hacker finding Architect's remarkably realistic pain simulation very inconvenient right now.
"Whose brilliant idea was this?"

"Steve's," Allen the @4ch3r groaned beside him.

"Does anyone hear Tchaikovsky?" Rob wondered, before the window they'd been thrown out(which had rezzed a new window in place since then)
shattered, the huge bulk of a Freak sonic tank flying through the air towards them on a ballistic course.

"0h,"

"FuX0r."

WHAM.

***

For the curious, a link to the AE arcs this is based off of.
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."

[OpMegs]

"..and then he tried the "smooth" approach," Mackie sighed, rolling her eyes as Lyn laughed slightly.

"Are you tired?" she asked with an amused smile.

"Because you've been running through my mind all night - yeah, that's the one," Mackie said, shaking her head. She glanced down, running her
hands down her sides and over the cheap t-shirt and jeans combo she defaulted to when hanging out with Lyn in the city. "Is it me? Do I have some bizarre
loser attracting field that all the guys that're interested in me are cheap bar trash?" she grumbled.

"Well, you do look like you could be eighteen depending on how loose of clothes you're wearing," Lyn pointed out as Mackie gave her a sour look.

"Gee, thanks, I think," she said, sticking her tongue out as Lyn stopped, blinking and glancing behind her. Mackie looked at her curiously.
"What is it?"

"...thought I saw someone...probably nothing but, I'll catch up with you in a second?" she said, questioningly.

Mackie waved her hands at her in a shooing motion. "I'll go hang out at the gas station, get a drink. Stupid 94 degree heat," she grumbled,
heading towards the convenience store as Lyn grinned.

***

Mackie frowned as she paid for her drink, sitting down in the cafe section and waiting. Really, was Lyn right? Did she look young enough to merely attract
exactly the wrong type of guys? Sylia'd offered to help her with her look if she wanted, but Mackie'd been unsure if she wanted to do so...after all,
that would be admitting even more to the fact of how girly she was now, and....

"EVERYONE ON THE FLOOR!"

A burst of automatic gunfire made a very persuasive argument in favor of the spoken order by the Death Head stepping nto the store and Mackie was right behind
them, cursing the fact she'd left her armor popped open in mid-modification before they'd left. As it was, Mackie was as vulnerable as anyone else in
the store, and she abruptly felt a stab of sympathy for people who lived through this sort of thing every day. She wondered how long it'd be before the
nearest hero came in to save them. After all, Lyn was still outside and even if she didn't have her armor with her, she could get in touch with someone. Or
maybe it'd all be over soon anyway. Mackie wasn't carrying much cash, so being mugged would hardly be a problem, really.

When the Skulls started lining everyone up along the inside of the store, however, Mackie started sweating. This was definitely not good....

Hurry up and get help, Lyn....

***

Lyn frowned from where she was frozen on a fire escape, watching more skulls enter the rear entrance of the store that Mackie'd just gone into. Still as
the rest of the scenery, she listened as the two Skulls traded poor jokes and the occasional, "No shit, there I was..." story. She was almost about
to chalk them up to normal robbers when the Bone Daddy arrived, the other two standing a little straighter in his presence.

"Get inside. They're about to make their move downtown, and even if this is a distraction, we have to be ready."

"What about the cops, boss?"

"If they interfere, we waste a hostage, let 'em know we're serious about this if they poke their noses in. They'll back down. Always do,"
he said.

"And if they don't?"

"Then we waste 'em all and let the ambulance guys try to save them while we run away," he chuckled. "Might as well get some fun out of this
run."

"Okay then, boss."

"Right, now get inside. Need to watch out for snipers," he grunted as the trio disappeared inside, leaving Lyn with a very worrying timetable as she
dropped from the fire escape and onto the roof. Popping the lock on the upper door, she slipped into the station, staying quiet as a mouse.

***

"Yeah, well if you cops want to see any of these pretty folks alive again, you'll keep yourselves and the
fucking capes back and out of our faces, got it?" the Bone Daddy smirked into the phone, before hanging it up. Looking over at the crowd of hostages, he
walked up and down the isle, absently grabbing Hershey's from one of the shelves and starting on it. "What's the word from Skinny?"

"They're starting. We just need to hold out a little longer."

"Easy enough. How twitchy are the cops getting outside?"

The Death Head leaned over to look outside, noting the positioning of the cops around the barricade. "I say we have six minutes before they move in."

"Right, time to make things perfectly clear. Get one of the hostages," he said, the Death Head nodding and walking over to the group. Mackie blinked
as a gunbarrel rested itself on her forehead, looking up the weapon at the Death Head. He jerked her to her feet before leading her in front of the glass
windows with a few grunted commands, well in view of the cops.

The Bone Daddy picked up the ringing phone, smiling slightly. "Why, hello Inspector....yes, you see, we seem to be in a disagreement. You said you'd
stay back until we could negotiate, but what I'm seeing isn't staying back. I guess you don't think we'll go through with the threat. Let's
rectify that misunderstanding," he smiled.

***

Lyn was almost above the hostages when she heard the phone ring, and the resulting conversation didn't sound promising. Carefully, she lifted the ceiling
panel ahead of her...and froze, spotting Mackie near the window, a Skull with an automatic rifle standing behind her. In that instant, she began thinking of
the odds she could take all the Skulls down and prevent any hostage casualties, but they all kept coming back to one conclusion: without her armor, she
wasn't fast or durable enough to do so, and she certainly couldn't deflect bullets. Which left one option....

***

Mackie refused to let herself whimper or show any fear as she felt the gun muzzle up against her back. They wanted that. They enjoyed the feeling of their
victims cowering because the Skulls had their guns and they had nothing. She wouldn't give them that satisfaction. She was still thinking along those lines
when the ceiling nearby exploded downward, a familiar blue clad figure with emerald hair landing in the middle of the store. Mackie saw a glint of metal,
before several things happened very fast.

The first Death Head tried to pull the trigger, but found his hand not responding to his commands. He looked down, before screaming in shock at the bloody,
spurting stump that ended at his elbow, his hand and weapon still falling to the ground. Lyn jumped and rolled over the shelves of food next, slicing a bloody
line along one Grave Digger's torso and dropping the gang member to the ground in shock and pain even as she kicked his pistol out of his reach. Next was
the other Death Head, bringing his weapon up so....slowly...compared to her movements. She could slice off the end of the rifle, but the resulting damage to
the gun in this close of a space could seriously injure one of the hostages, so she sliced diagonally along the gun arm, her cut slightly deflected by her
ramming the hilt of her sword into the gunbarrel and knocking its aim upwards. The handful of shots that got fired were emptied into the ceiling, and another
reversed slash downwards took the Skull out of the fight permanently. Two more Grave Diggers charged at her, but Lyn's eye was on the Bone Daddy, pulling
out a wicked looking assault rifle as she sliced through first one and then the other. The gang's leader had enough time to see her coming and open
fire(thankfully at head height, and missing the hostages entirely) before she ducked, losing the tie on her ponytail, but otherwise unharmed before she
precisely pierced the poor armor of his leather jacket and and t-shirt, dropping him to the ground, the rifle going silent.

Mackie, unaware for the moment of the blood that wasn't hers splattered along her clothes, looked at the clock as if checking for some kind of sanity. The
entire confrontation hadn't taken more than twenty seconds.

Lyn quickly cleaned off her blade before sheathing it again, even as PPD burst through the door, ready for a bloody confrontation that'd already ended. Lyn
nodded at the men staring vaguely goggle-eyed at the young swordswoman covered in blood spray, hair in disarray as she walked over to the still frozen Mackie.
"Mackie, are you all right?" Whatever she'd been expecting, Mackie looking at her, trembling as she took in the blood Lyn still had yet to wash
off, and then running out of the store hadn't been it. Lyn blinked, before raising a hand to her hair and wiping off some of the blood, frowning slightly.

***

Mackie looked up at the soft knock on her door and frowned. Sylia had seen the expression on her face and not pressed the issue, and Priss wouldn't have
thought it her place to offer advice on anything even if she had been home. Even if she's practically a stone's throw
away from being my sister-in-law, Mackie chuckled softly to herself as she stood up to answer the door, curious. She looked at Lyn in surprise as the
taller woman stood in the doorway, her hair once more tied back in its usual pony tail and her clothing either cleaned or replaced from the blood-stained
garments she'd been wearing before. And most unusually, her almost omnipresent sword wasn't at its usual place on her belt.

"Uh...hi," Mackie said.

"Hello....I wanted to....well, I'm not sure, really," Lyn said, resting her weight back and forth from one foot to the other unconsciously.
"I...scared you, somehow, during the fight earlier. I'm sorry for doing that, I guess, even if I had to do what I did..."

Mackie smiled weakly at her friend's obvious discomfort with such an unusual (for her, anyway) situation. She stepped back, waving Lyn into her room and
clearing a few piles of technical manuals off the closest chair so she could sit down. "It's....it's okay, really. I freaked out, but I just
needed some time to think things through...and after that, well. Thank you. For saving my life," she said earnestly.

Lyn took the thanks at face value, nodding back. "Any time. Though, of course...." she trailed off thoughtfully.

"What?" Mackie asked, frowning.

"This just proves that I'm not allowed to leave you alone on your own these days," she chuckled, getting an indignant squawk from Mackie.

"I am not helpless!" she growled as Lyn fell full on into laughter at the indignant squeak that resulted.
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."

[OpMegs]

Duty is heavier than a mountain; death is lighter than a feather.

- Unknown

***

"How do you go on?"

"It is simple. You will never forgive yourself. Accept it. You hurt others. That cannot be undone. You will never find
personal retribution. But your life does not have to end. That which is right, just, and true can still prevail. If you do not fight for what you believe in,
all may be lost for everyone else. But do not fight for yourself. Fight for others - others that may be saved through your effort. That is the least you can
do."



***

If there was a burden only you could bear, would you take it up?

If there was a failure only you knew, how much would it take to atone?

If there was a way to gain a second chance, how far would you go?

***



"I've seen that look before," the lady says, crossing her legs in front of her elegantly as she looked at the girl. "How many did you
lose?"

"Too many," the girl replies, blonde hair still disheveled and undone, cascading over one shoulder. Smudges of unknown material decorate her face,
neck, and hands, contrasting considerably with the clean change of clothes she was given to replace the hospital gown after the emergency room had cut her out
of her previous attire to get at the bleeding.

"They were your friends?" the lady asks.

"Friends. Comrades. Some just thought that I would be the one to get them out. That I could save them. But in the end, I couldn't save any of
them." There's no bitterness. No anger in that sentence. Just guilt and regret, crushing and overpowering, locked behind iron control. The girl sounds
almost emotionless, but her interviewer can tell it's a facade.

"I've looked at the recording data from your suit. What you did was remarkable. It's amazing you got as far out of there as you did." The
lady speaks this praise honestly. The "lab" they escaped from would better be considered a fortress.

"Because I sacrificed those I had to to get that chance. I wasn't strong enough. Wasn't smart enough to get them all out." The girl shows a
twinge of emotion, regret and recrimination playing on her face before she can get them under control.

"So I suppose the question is, will you be taking up that sword of yours again?"

"Yes." Not a moment's hesitation, but not a molecule of joy at the prospect either. Melancholy acceptance clings to her like armor.

"I've seen situations like yours before. I already have one on my hands that's almost more trouble than she's worth. Are you going to be
another rogue element?" the lady asks, even though she knows the answer already from looking into those deep, honest blue eyes.

"No. I survived the butchers. I will not become another one."

"Even for revenge?"

"Blood for blood turns the whole world red. Killing those who killed my comrades will not bring them back, and turning into a monster to avenge them will
not help them find peace."

The lady waits for a moment, expecting something more, and the girl does not disappoint.

"...we were going to be heroes....protectors. That was why we wanted to be free. We wanted to be like you. Otherwise, we could have been the killers they
sought us to be."

"I see." The lady ponders in silence, while the girl remains solid, unphased by the lack of response. Then she speaks again.

"And what if I told you there was a chance to get them back? Your friends? Slight. Almost impossible. But a chance?"

"You would have my aid and my gratitude, and no enemy could stand before me that I would not strike down."

The lady considers the reports and recordings. The girl underplays her skill, her brilliance, and her power. Anyone normal would not have escaped, and anyone average would have been crushed. The girl is
neither. The lady knows the danger of a sword that possesses no sheathe. A danger to the owner as much as her foes. But this weapon is especially keen and of
superlative quality....and beyond the tactical evaluation, the lady thinks this one can still be saved from her own self-destructive guilt.

"We would be very grateful if you would assist us. I can't promise anything but that chance, but it's better than nothing.

The girl nods. She knows the odds, even without knowing the details.

"And what did they call you there, before you escaped?" the lady asks, for names convey meaning, but also identity.

"When they didn't use numbers, my instructors called me 'Sovereign'."
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."

[Sofaspud]

Hrm.

Sovereign Sabre?

I'm not catching the reference, if there is one. But regardless, this sounds interesting. Who is she?

--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs

[Valles]

'Sovereign Sabre'

...She's a short, athletic blonde with the 'done up in pins' braid, isn't she? BS/Inv or /Will, I'm guessing.
===========

===============================================
"V, did you do something foolish?"
"Yes, and it was glorious."

[dark seraph]

Nanime?

[Valles]

Go watch Fate/Stay Night. ^_^
===========

===============================================
"V, did you do something foolish?"
"Yes, and it was glorious."

[Matrix Dragon]

Something odd was going on. Ann Ritona, guitarist and backup vocalist of the Replicants, was looking between the lead singer and their bassist with the confused expression of a woman that knew she was missing out on an interesting story. Priss Asagiri, the lead singer in question, looked entirely too amused, while Mack Smith appeared to be considering the benefits of throwing his guitar at her. “Okay... I get the feeling I’m going to regret this... but what’d I miss?” she asked.

Priss snickered. “It’s a long story involving an interesting weekend of fighting evil... I got to find out just how... worldly his sisters aren’t.” It took a moment for that concept to filter through Anns mind, but she’d had the chance to meet both Jackie and Blossom, both of whom were shining examples of sweet and innocent farm girls from the countryside. Some brief mental math placed them in the same location as Priss, and then Ann could only groan in sudden understanding of the horror that must have been inflicted. The singers smirk didn’t help matters any either.

“Priss...”

“There are times,” added the blue-white haired magician curled up on the couch with a notebook, “that the Great and Powerful Tricksy can only assume you enjoy raising the blood pressure of those around you.”

“Eeyup,” agreed Mack, maintaining a steady glare. “Ya went well over the line boss,” he added.

Priss grinned, entirely unapologetic. “What got you going the most? Making Blossom hear of the concept of lesbians? Jack too, I suppose, although how she hasn’t caught on about Flash yet amazes me...” Ann made a noise somewhere between a groan and a snort of laughter, and Macks glare intensified. “The description of what I’d like to do to that clone bitch?” She considered Macks darkening expression and nodded. “Not going to apologize for the first, although I’ll admit I might have gone too far with the teasing. So, sort of a conditional apology I suppose. The second one... yeah, shouldn’t have done that in front of someone her age, even if she’ll hear worse from the goons she beats up.”

“Why does Tricksy suspect that Priss displayed the sort of language that wold make Tricksy cast ‘summon soap?’”

“Shuddup you, I’m apologizing here.”

“Tricksy shall fetch a camera ow!” Tricksy rubbed at her leg and glared at Ann, who merely smiled in return.

Mack considered Priss for a moment, then shrugged. “Reckon you’re right ‘bout that,” he said. “Very annoying though. It’s been said before that you need to learn when to back off. Always charging in, making noise even when you shouldn’t. Not that smart.”

Eyes narrowing, the last of her amusement fading, Priss nodded slightly. “Yeah... you’re probably right. Sorry about that Mack. She’s a good kid, and I was only meaning to have a little fun. Didn’t mean to go and cause you some real anger. Messing with Jackie got the better of me. I’m sorry. Really.”

“Eeyup. I know you are. Just wish it didn’t up with my little sister on one of those dang rocketboards,” Mack replied, leaning back in his chair. “And you lot all butting in with opinions didn’t help.” Priss winced, reconsidering that little incident in a different light.

“Not exactly my best move,” she admitted. “Sorry. I should try to stop being a bitch, huh?” Tricksy nearly snorted, but stopped when Ann gave her another warning look.

Shrugging again, Mack leaned back in his chair and picked his guitar back up. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t steppin’ on toes. It’s why we love you.”

“... Thanks. I think,” Priss replied, not really sure of the proper way to reply to that. Ann shook her head, not quite suppressing her smile. Tricksy merely rolled her eyes, amused. “Anyway, back to business. They’re asking for two songs, so I was wondering if we should go with out older hits, or maybe some of our newer content...”

***

“You know,” Priss admitted, “I’d be all for you taking the lead in a few songs Tricks, except for the fact I’m not entirely sure you can consistently say ‘I’.”

Rolling her eyes, the magician ignored Anns snickering. “The Talented and Vocally Flexible Tricksy can speak in such a manner, thank you very much. She just chooses not to most of the time. Image is very important for a stage magician-”

“You can?” Ann interrupted. “I always assumed it was a magic spell or something. You don’t even drop the act in private.”

“Well, yes. The Dedicated and Focused Tricksy has been using this as part of her style for quite a long time. It is a hard habit to break, and Tricksy does not want to risk a slip up in public...” she paused, considering. “And there is a magical spell on her hat,” she admitted at last.

“Cheating,” Mack said dryly.

“Creative use of resources,” Priss disagreed, chuckling. “So, wear the hat, and you have to talk in the third person?”

“The Slightly Embarrased, yet Honest Tricksy has to admit that Priss is correct - ANN!” she protested as the other girl snatched the hat off her head. “Do you mind?”

“Oh calm down, I just want to try it out,” she replied, looking at the hat curiously, before putting it on. “The Amused yet Curious Ann is looking forward to seeing how it works. Oh wow. Tricksy has certainly impressed the Admiring and Playful Ann with this.”

Aborting her lunge to recover her property, Tricksy snickered. “Tricksy is glad you like it. While it is not something she advertises, it is one of her better creations.”

“So that’s how you always come up with an ‘X and Y Tricksy’ comments,” Priss laughed. “You’ve got a shortcut.”

That comment earned her a disgusted look from the magician. “Priss should know by now that the Creative and Imaginative Tricksy has a title for any situation,” she sniffed.

“The Giggling and Suddenly-Titled Ann would argue she presents support for Priss’s theory.”

“... Fine. I added that to the spell, just in case. Are you happy?”

“Very,” Priss smiled, reaching over and messed up Tricksys hair, enjoying the protesting noise that caused. “I always like it when you let your hair down. You’re too uptight. Need to loosen up more.”

“The Calm and Mature Tricksy is just fine the way she is, thank you very much.”

“Oh!” Ann said, jumping up and pulling the hat off her head. “Mack!” she declared, dropping it on the bassist. “Does it work on you?” she asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Tilting his head back to get the hats rim out of the way, Mack considered his fellow band member for several long moments. “... Nope,” he drawled at last, the disappointed expression on Anns face sending both Priss and Tricksy over the edge into cackling laughter.

“Awww,” she declared, before glancing at the other two women. “Thanks.”

“Your face!” Tricksy responded, covering her mouth with a hand, but utterly failing to contain her giggles. “You just...” She gave up on trying to control herself, leaning against Priss.

Sighing, Ann took the hat off Mack and waited for the women to calm down. It took a few minutes, but eventually, the pair began to look somewhat more composed. “Feeling better?” she asked, before dropping the hat onto Priss’s head.

“The Amused and Satisfied Priss is feeling very good indeed,” she smirked, glancing over at Mack, who had an amused smile on his own face. Priss suspected that if he’d gone past his usual speech gag, Ann would have found he was affected... but no need to spoil his fun. “So, Tricksy... if you practised, and kept this well away from, your head, the generous and supportive Priss would be more then willing to let you try a few songs as lead singer.”

Laughing, Tricksy reached over and recovered her hat. “You don’t want an accident on stage?”

“Besides the fact you’re keeping a relatively low profile until that asshole agent is dealt with, and a slip up like that might ruin that? The Paranoid and Professional Priss would prefer to keep any snafus out... of...” She paused, then reached up to check her head. Sure enough, the hat was gone, back on Tricksys head where it belongs. “The Worried and Concerned Priss... The Actually Rather Worried Priss... Tricksy!”

Eyes widening, Tricksy considered her friend carefully. “Ohhh dear...”

“Oh no,” Ann sighed, facepalming.

“Tricksy can fix this!” she exclaimed as Priss rose to her feet, glaring.

“Tricksy had better fix- get back here!” Priss snarled as her friend decided to go with the better part of valor and such, and ran for safety. Priss, being rather grumpy, decided to follow, threatening violence in the third person.

For a long moment, Mack and Ann considered the situation. “Well. Hopefully you costume sorts know someone that can fix that,” Ann said.

“Eyup. That, or you’ll be doing all the singing tomorrow night,” Mack noted.

“Ah nuts.”

[Sofaspud]

It was two o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon in late spring when Sylia wondered, for at least the hundredth time, what had possessed her those many months ago when she'd agreed to let A.J. join the Sabres.

"You're not saying anything.  You hate it, don't you?"  The girl in question and the source of Sylia's sudden headache looked downcast and scuffed her toe on the floor.

"I don't hate it, Alex," Sylia noted quietly.  "I'm just-- wait.  Is that one of my old field emitters?"

A.J. brightened.  "Yep!  You'd left them in the reclamation bin and I figured, hey, this way it won't cost anything.  Katy fixed them up for me.  Mostly.  I think."  The brunette shrugged.  "It's sometimes hard to tell, with her work..."

Sylia bent and examined the suit hanging on the makeshift armoring rack in the corner.  It, like all of A.J.'s other suits had been, was blue and white.  The poor girl had gone through so many variants by this time that Sylia had quite lost track.  She was an FBSA-certified superhero, true enough, but Sylia harbored private thoughts that perhaps the FBSA had certified A.J. just to make sure she was on the Medicom network and thus, keep her alive, rather than due to any actual ability the girl possessed.  As Linna had put it, the girl was a grade-A klutz.

Unlike some of her previous designs, this one had actual armor rather than molded plastic painted to look like armor.  Being a Sabre had given A.J. access to better materials and better tools, and an actual budget to play with -- but A.J. still clung to the idea of reusing things wherever possible, and adapting them to fit.  Sylia twitched slightly in memory of one of A.J.'s previous attempts, which had ended disastrously (if humorously) with the poor girl stuck in a chronal loop, oscillating back and forth through the experience of getting splattered by a water balloon, over and over again, until a giggling Nene had finally taken pity on her.  After that, Sylia had firmly expressed the idea that maybe A.J. should use brand-new instead of worn out hand-me-down parts.

It didn't look like the girl had quite listened, though in this case at least Sylia was somewhat reassured that it was her old tech instead of someone else's.

"It looks sturdy enough," Sylia finally said, glancing back at the younger girl.  "Have you tested it yet?"

A.J. laughed nervously and rubbed the back of her head.  "Of course not!  You said all testing had to be done in the danger room!  No more live-fire testing, right?"

Sylia raised an eyebrow.  A.J. squirmed.

"It wasn't my fault I was bringing it back from Katy's lab and got jumped by a pack of Hellions!"

Sylia sighed.  "Did it work?"

A.J. nodded eagerly.  "It was amazing!  It was like the suit was part of me!"

"That's how it should be," Linna said, entering the armory.  "Afternoon, Sylia," she said by way of greeting the Sabre leader.  Sylia nodded in reply.

"Hi, Linna!"  A.J. bounced in place, rising to the balls of her feet and rocking back on her heels.  "She's been giving me special lessons," she added, glancing at Sylia.  "I'm a lot better than I used to be."

Sylia drew on years of experience and her masterful self-control and refrained from observing, "That's not saying much," and instead simply inquired, "Oh?"

"It's true, Sylia," Linna said, perhaps sensing Sylia's unspoken assessment.  "A.J.'s come a long way.  The staff really suits her."

"I thought you taught unarmed combat," Sylia said.

"I do," Linna confirmed.  She grinned.  "I also teach pole dancing."

"Lin-na!" A.J. squealed, blushing.

"What?  It's more an art form than most people think, and you've got the body for it.  Don't be ashamed," Linna replied, shrugging.

"I have to admit to some confusion," Sylia began slowly.  "You're teaching Alex how to pole dance, and this led to her learning how to fight with a staff?"

Blushing further, A.J. replied, "That's... mostly accurate.  Um."

Linna chuckled.  "She's a klutz, but she's lucky, Sylia."  A.J. nodded red-faced agreement.  "So there we were in the studio one day.  A.J.'s practicing a vertical lift and somehow manages to break the pole.  As she's falling, she spins, lets go of it, and ends up clobbering Master Leep from across the room."

"I didn't mean to!"

"After he wakes up," Linna continued, "he decides that she needs to learn better control of her 'unconventional' staff-fighting technique, and since I'm her teacher, obviously I need to practice it as well, because otherwise, she'd never have lost control of her weapon in such a shameful manner."  Linna chuckled and shook her head.  "Honestly?  I think the old perv just figured it was a way to stare at girls in leotards for a couple hours at a time without getting in trouble, but he is helping us develop a new fighting style."

Sylia thought about it for a moment.  "I suppose that makes a strange sort of sense," she admitted.  "For this city, at any rate."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Linna noted.  "I've got three classes full already, and we're looking at hiring more instructors."

"So in your opinion, Linna," Sylia said, resolutely returning to the original topic, "is Alex ready for fieldwork, using her new techniques and tools?"

"Sure."  Linna nodded.  "And anything's going to work better than that rebuilt toaster-gun-thing she got off what's-her-name in the Legendary."

"I don't like fire.  Nope nope nope," A.J. put in, shaking her head frantically.

"So this is why the armor is minimal," Sylia said, indicating the suit.  "Your staff techniques require flexibility."

"Yep!"  A.J. nodded, whipping out a laser pointer and dropping a wobbling dot on key parts of the suit.  "I used your old field emitters here -- Katy re-tuned them a little, so they don't draw so much power -- and that's what provides protection for everything except the center torso.  Keeps weight down.  Then," she said, scribbling a rough oval over the chest, "I put a layer of segmented armor from Priss' old suit here.  And Nene helped me with the helmet," another wild scribble of red laser light, "so that it can link up with the SabreNet and, well, everything."  She hesitated, frowning.  "I think I need to get her to take a look at it again, though.  It won't access YouTube or any cosplay sites."

Linna snorted.

Sylia nodded.  "I'm sure she can handle it," she said diplomatically.  "Well, Alex, this latest revision seems to meet all the minimum requirements for Sabre fieldwork.  I want a full round of testing before you hit the streets, mind you."

"Sure, no problem!"  A.J. beamed.  She paused.  "Also... um... if it's okay with you, I want to change my codename."

"Oh?"

"Sabre Zero was always kind of a joke," A.J. said.  "And that was okay, because... because I've never really been a Sabre.  You know."

Sylia shook her head.  "You're one of us, Alex," she said.  "You may not have arrived here the same way, but you're one of us."

A.J. reddened slightly, smiling.  "Well... okay.  But my name should show that, right?  So if it's okay, I want to be known as Staff Sabre."

Sylia considered it, a tiny smile crossing her face.  "That seems an excellent choice," she said finally.  "It exemplifies your weapon, and for those in the know, your position as well."

A.J. blinked.  "Yes, um, that.  Exactly."

"Take the FBSA fees out of the Sabre fund," Sylia said, and nodded.  "If that's all, I'll return to the lab," she added.  "Good work, Alex."

As she left, with A.J. bouncing in excitement and Linna trying to wave her down, Sylia shook her head.  Maybe this time it would work.  The suit was better by far than any of A.J.'s previous attempts, but this pole-dance-fighting... thing... was a complete unknown.

Hm.  Pole dancing.

"Henderson," Sylia called out as the door to her lab closed behind her.

"Yes, miss?"  The voice of the artificial intelligence was, as always, calm, unruffled, and soothing.

"Please compile an instruction manual for me," she said, shrugging into her labcoat.  "Topic: pole dancing."

"... as you wish, miss."

Priss was going to be surprised.



--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs