BGC Post 2040 File 1 – 16: Dominant Species
The Bubblegum Crisis Tokyo 2040 Continuation Fanfic Series
by P. Kristen Enos
Most of these stories take place AFTER the TV Series! So DON’T blame me if I ruin the ending for you because you read these stories first!
Lesbian/Yuri/Shoujo Ai Warning! (Non-explicit — at least in the “PG13″/”R” sort of way.) Just not written for children because they probably wouldn’t get half of it. All rights belong to JVC/AIC, ADV Films and the other creative powers that be. I just want credit for writing the story.
Chapter 46: Last Domino
In the bright moonlight, Leon stood on the sand and stared at the black bay water before him. He knew he was early. And he had hoped that she’d be early too, but the sound of the familiar motorcycle came right on time. He didn’t bother to turn around at the noise of the bike being parked and the footsteps that came near and finally stopped beside him.
Trying to keep his burning emotions under control, he took a deep breath and commented, “Talk about your déjà vu! Would’ve been a perfect repeat of history except that this time you got your ass kicked!”
“Everyone’s a critic.”
The flippant answer cracked his self-control, causing him to retort, “Some of us have a right to be! And not only that, some of us deserve to hear directly from the source if a certain someone is going to commit to being on active duty again. At least to Nene’s credit, she thought I already knew!”
The woman frowned and said, “You didn’t have a say the first time around. What makes you think you have a say now?”
“Damn it, Priss! Things are different this time and you know it! Otherwise, what’s the point of that engagement ring hanging around your neck?!”
“Fine. Have it back then,” she said, reaching for the chain.
He whipped around and snagged her wrist, stopping the motion. “No! I won’t be a rash decision, Priss! I deserve better than that!”
Even in the dark shadows of the night, he could tell she stared at him. He finally felt her relax and lower her arm, which caused him to do the same.
“Look,” he said, his tone softer and sadder than before, “just talk to me, Priss. I know you haven’t been happy about returning to Tokyo. And I thought it was because of the Knight Sabers. So imagine my surprise when I find out you rejoined. And after having a malfunctioning hard suit, too. It doesn’t make sense.”
She was quiet for a long time as she watched the gentle waves before them. “It doesn’t, Leon? The only time I feel alive is when I’m on stage or I’m in a hardsuit. I was just fooling myself when I turned down Sylia.”
“So you don’t feel alive when there’s just me?” The hurt in his voice was undeniable.
“Leon, I’m…” Priss let out a frustrated sigh and said, “Look, you watched that entire street scene from beginning to end. You watched innocent people be crippled or die. And then your K-suit buddies was just as ineffective as before. Didn’t it once pass through your mind ‘If Priss was here, the insanity could be stopped’?”
The man frowned at the truth in those words, but then he shook his head. “I’ll admit that happened. But what I also thought as I watched that boomer beat you was ‘That’s my future wife and mother of my children.’ It’s not going to be just me at stake anymore. What am I supposed to tell our kids if there’s a repeat of today and Sylia’s not there to watch your back?”
“You sound like a cop’s wife.”
Angry that he walked right into that one, he blurted, “Damn it, Priss! You knew that when you met me!”
“Listen to yourself, Leon!” she retorted, her own anger ripping loose. “I am Priss Asagiri, singer and Knight Saber! Not a wifey! Not a mom! You were the one talking of cozy little homes with little pitter patter of feet everywhere! I don’t have those kinds of dreams! I never did!”
Leon lurched back as if she had actually slapped him physically instead of verbally. “But – But doesn’t every woman want children?”
“Leon,” she said, her tone softening but still sharp, “were you attracted to me because I was like every other woman?”
“Well, no – but that doesn’t mean -“
She turned on her heel to walk away. “Forget this. I need some space. I haven’t had any in a while.”
Leon reached out and snagged her arm, jerking her back in mid-step. “Don’t turn away from me, Priss! I will not let you shut me out as if the past four years never happened!”
Priss froze, her entire body tense like iron. She didn’t even turn her head as she said, “Let. Me. Go.”
He didn’t move for a moment, wanting to react verbally as well as physically. Knowing that that would have really done much more damage than good, he finally sighed and let her go. “So what now? Are you going back to Linna for real this time?”
Despite the strong and angry strides, it was clear that Priss almost tripped when he made that comment. But she remained quiet as she got on her bike and put on her helmet
She then looked at him and said, “If you don’t want me to be part of the Knight Sabers, then your cop buddies better learn how to do their jobs. In the mean time, I’m moving in with Sylia.”
Leon grit his teeth and took a deep breath. Mustering as much calm as he could, he asked, “When can I call you?”
“Not right now,” she answered as she started the engine and drove away.
At first Leon didn’t move, even after she had been gone for a good fifteen minutes. Then, in a flood of rage, he took out his frustration by kicking at a helpless piece of nearby driftwood before finally collapsing in physical and emotional exhaustion.
“Thanks for this, Sylia,” Priss answered cryptically as she stepped through the doors.
With a duffel bag in one hand and her guitar case in the other, she looked typically out of place in the elegant establishment, even though it was late at night.
“It’s not as if I don’t have the space,” replied a groggy, bathrobe-clad Sylia. The hour was hardly late for her under normal circumstances, but her plan to catch up on rest and healing time was not feeling well timed that day. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”
After pushing the security buttons on the wall to lock the closed doors, Sylvie stood by and watched curiously.
Henderson was also there. He stepped forward hesitantly and asked, “May I carry something of yours, Miss Priss?”
“No need, Henderson. Just lead the way.”
“Of course. Follow me.”
Now with the two of them alone, Sylia looked at Sylvie expectantly and prompted, “You have a question?”
Sylvie looked at the top of the stairs where Priss had disappeared to and then said, “I think I do but I’m not certain yet how to phrase it.”
Sylia let out a small yawn and answered, “Well, if you’ll excuse me, Sylvie, I am really tired. We can talk in the morning – or whenever I wake up.”
The boomer stood quietly in the dim lighting as she tried to make sense of everything she witnessed that day connected to this puzzling person called Priss Asagiri.
It was a nice room, probably one of the best quality ones she’d ever been in, with its simple desk and comfortable looking bed. Yet instead of enjoying her surroundings, Priss stood in the middle and stared at the phone in her hand.
It was too late to call Linna, even if her friend wasn’t in need of sleep for healing. But Priss wanted someone to talk to, someone who would really listen for a change, and maybe even understand.
Then again, who was she fooling? Such a person didn’t exist.
Priss then sighed and put the phone down on the desk. She stared at the transparent wall that gave a small view of the giant aquarium which was the center of the building. Even though Henderson had showed her how to shut off the transparency, Priss preferred the room like this. The surreal mood and lighting fit her state of her mind for the past three years.
Priss noticed that her hand was unconsciously clasping the engagement ring hanging from her throat. She held up the ring and stared at it. After a long pause, she kissed it, took off the necklace and slipped it into a pocket in her jacket.
Then she opened her guitar case and sat on the bed. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to play any melody that came to mind.
— End Chapter 46 —
Chapter 47: Personal Interests
With a chef’s apron over the stylish attire marking her as the Silky Doll’s lone shop girl, Sylvie efficiently moved around the spotless kitchen as she fished through the fridge and various cupboards for the items needed to prepare the large breakfast she had planned. On the long counter in the middle of the room, she arranged each item according to its category, from eating utensils to food ingredients. She was determined to make certain Henderson’s lessons would not go to waste.
She paused in mid-motion at the faint noise from the hallway. Since it was approximately 4:30 a.m., no one else should be up. She turned to see Priss standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
Dressed in a ragged t-shirt and faded jeans, the human stood stone-still and stared with no expression other than a slight narrowing of the eyes and crease of a frown on her brow. Her hair was still wet as she continued to dry it with the towel around her neck.
The two women stared at each other in silence.
Sylvie bowed in greeting and said, “Good morning, Priss, I was just about to prepare breakfast. May I fix you something in particular? ”
Priss didn’t move for a moment as she continued to stare. Then she went directly towards the fridge and said, “I just want something to drink, thanks. I can take care of myself.”
The boomer quietly watched her study the fridge contents and then pull out a container of orange juice. Priss then paused and glanced at the various cupboards. She started to open the cupboards in search of something, and did not find it immediately – much to her annoyance, marked by the noticeable deepening of her frown.
After watching Priss open the fifth cupboard, Sylvie surmised what she was looking for and picked up one of the ready glasses on the counter to offer it to her. “I had already pulled one aside for you. Would you like it?”
With her hand on the knob of another cupboard, Priss stared at the proffered glass. She then looked at Sylvie, who again matched her stare.
“Thanks,” she said, finally taking the glass. She poured herself a drink and made no further attempt to acknowledge the presence of the other woman, who continued to watch her.
Seeing that no further interaction was wanted or required, Sylvie continued in her task of assembling necessary items.
Priss leaned back against the counter space and covertly watched Sylvie out of the corner of her eye. Her frown didn’t ease one bit.
“Should I leave so you may enjoy your juice in silence?” Sylvie asked matter-of-factly, apparently otherwise occupied with her task at hand.
Priss raised an eyebrow and then said, “No need…. Do you do this every morning?”
Sylvie paused and looked at her with a clearly puzzled expression. “’This’?”
“No. This is my first time. By myself at least.”
“Oh… Then are you going to work in the shop today?”
“Yes,” the boomer responded as she tried to make sense of the logic behind the questioning. Then she tilted her head curiously and asked, “Are you finally interested in buying something?”
Priss’s frown got darker for a moment and then lightened. “No. I just never expected Sylia to take advantage of you like this.”
Now Sylvie was clearly confused. “Take advantage of me? As in use me for her benefit without consideration of my own desires? I don’t believe that is the case. I am fixing breakfast to show Mr. Henderson that I fully understand his cooking lessons and desire a test to prove myself. I work in the shop because it is the best way for me to interact with humans so that my social skills and experience increases. I am glad Mr. Henderson can sleep in while I take over cooking duties for a day, and that Sylia can rest and heal from the injury I had given her. And even if there were no benefits for them, I’ve found I enjoy cooking and socializing. Is that being taken advantage of?”
Priss had listened to her quietly, but each word actually made the frown lighten and eventually disappear. When Sylvie was finished, Priss finally smiled to herself and said, “You’re right. There’s nothing wrong in doing something you enjoy. If that’s truly the case then, yeah, I’d like to have some of the breakfast you’re going to make.”
Sylvie broke out into a pleased smile and said, “It will take a while though. I can summon you from your room when it’s ready.”
“I’m in no rush. Unless of course that was your hint for me to get out of your way,” she answered as she pulled a comb out of her pocket and started run it through her hair.
“I would like you to stay,” Sylvie admitted with a slight softening of her tone that actually caused Priss’s eyebrow to arch curiously. Then she said in a stronger voice, “However, I am curious to know why you’re up so early. I had formed the impression you would not be an early riser given that you were up quite late singing and playing your guitar.”
“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize the walls were so thin,” Priss said with a genuine look of surprise.
“They aren’t. I just have particularly acute hearing when something catches my interest,” Sylvie admitted. Then she quickly added, “I try not to go out of my way to hear things that are not meant for me to listen to. But sometimes I can’t help it, especially since I was in my room without any task to occupy myself. And I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“As long as you liked what you heard,” Priss said with a shrugged. “So, do you actually sleep?”
“I’ve begun to. But I am only able to do it for a couple of hours at a time. I’m finding that I’m having difficulty allowing myself to completely shut down for a significant length of time. And when I do sleep, it doesn’t feel as deep and as restful as Mackey has described. Sylia tells me it just may take some time to adjust, especially since I am on constant alert status, having been a combat boomer.”
“Sounds like you and I are on the same sleeping schedule…. Is there something I can do to help?” Priss offered, suddenly conscious of the fact that she just stood there while the boomer was tackling what seemed to be a feast for a queen.
Sylvie paused and regarded her critically for a moment. Then she said seriously, “Only if you are offering because you might enjoy it. Otherwise, I’d rather keep all of the enjoyment to myself.”
Priss actually chuckled and said, “All right you win. I’ll just stand here and watch.”
The other woman broke out into another pleased smile and then remarked, “Then do it over there. Otherwise, you’re going to be in my way in approximately two minutes.”
Dressed in her bathrobe, Sylia appeared in the dining room entrance and paused at the various dishes of food, which were more than enough to feed the three other people seated at the table. “My! All of that food looks delicious… and plentiful.”
Henderson immediately got up and bowed in greeting, as did Sylvie. Priss remained rooted as she took a bite from her toast and gave her hostess a nod of acknowledgement.
“Good morning, Mistress Sylia,” Henderson greeted. “Sylvie wanted to treat us to the best breakfast she could make, which as you can see is quite varied since she knew we all had different tastes. I’ve sampled everything and it’s delicious.”
“Is there anything in particular you would like to try, Sylia?” the boomer asked as she readied a plate for her.
With an amused grin, Sylia sat down at her usual spot at the head of the table and said, “Let’s just start with a small portion of the Eggs Benedict — no, smaller than that, dear — and we’ll proceed from there. I promise to try everything even though it may take a few meals to do that.”
Henderson handed her the still neatly folded newspaper. “I think you would be interested in the front page headlines, Madame.”
She took the paper with a curious arch of her eyebrow. She opened it up to see a bold, red headline that read “Mysterious Female Warriors Save the Day!” Matching the colored headline was a full-page story with two nice photos, one of Sylvie crushing the core of her boomer and the one of Priss landing the crippling blow on hers.
The story really wasn’t that much of a surprise after the constant news coverage on television all yesterday after the attack. However, it added a certain dimension of concreteness to see it in print.
After a sigh, Sylia merely looked at Priss.
The singer gave a shrug as she continued to tackle her breakfast and commented, “I just think it’s too bad that I can’t use all of this coverage to publicize Sekiria’s new play dates at Hot Legs.”
— End Chapter 47 —
Chapter 48: Best Laid Plans
Even though he was clearly displeased, Largo’s handsome, smooth looks betrayed little raw emotion as he spoke into the phone screen. “ – So imagine my surprise upon hearing about this ‘terrorist issue’ Genom Corporation has been having. I can appreciate you wanting to take care of such matters on your own, Mr. Rosenkreuz, however, when it results in damage to the property and safety of my clients, I would naturally like to be aware of such things. I trust you will not act without my input in the future on such far-reaching matters?”
Both men knew he spoke in code, showing that Largo had a greater awareness of the matter than the knowledge shared by the general public.
Quincy smiled at him from his spot at his desk and said, “I hear your concerns, Mr. Watanabe, and I assure you that this will not happen again. The matter has been closed satisfactorily with Commissioner Suzuki. And if anything in the future does come up, I assure you that you will be number one on my list of personal advisors.”
“I’m honored to hear that. Have a good day, Mr. Rosenkreuz,” the younger man responded, hanging up without waiting for a reply.
Quincy smirked and leaned back in his chair, picking up the newspaper to look at the headlines.
“He didn’t sound too pleased,” Madigan noted from her spot by the window, where she had waited for the call to end.
“He’ll get over it. Rich, pretty boys like him tend to forget that the world doesn’t always center around them,” Quincy responded casually from behind the wall of newsprint. “Just to spare me some avoidable grief, if we ever conduct a public ‘test’ again, we should do a query of any Watanabe holdings in the area.”
“’If’? So we are done with the Knight Sabers?” A subtle surprise was evident in her tone.
“Oh, hardly…. You know, these pictures are pretty thrilling. Get in contact with the photographer and see if we can get some blown-up framed copies. I think they would add a zing to the office décor…. Now, what did your team come up with?”
The woman nodded toward his terminal and said, “The full preliminary report has already been sent to your inbox. However, for the sake of highlights, my team agrees that the technology of those three Knight Sabers would be more than a match for Sylvie, so I think it’s safe to assume they were indeed the ones responsible for her disappearance. At this point, we don’t think we have anything that could match them in a confrontation, except perhaps Sylvie’s sisters.”
Quincy frowned as he mulled over Madigan’s words. “That sounds too close for my liking. Are we convinced that these are indeed the Knight Sabers from four years ago?” He spread the paper out on his desk and tapped into his terminal so he could see the file in question.
Madigan nodded, “If not the originals, then something too close to be coincidental. Even though the styles of the suits are noticeably different, the color schemes and abilities correspond with the figures from when the boomer took over the factory.”
Something clicked in Quincy’s mind as he remembered the archive videos. “Weren’t there four of them in that footage?”
“Yes. We’re missing the green one. She may not be active with the group anymore, perhaps not even alive. Although there’s a good possibility she could have been on stand-by, just as the white one seems to have been, given her late arrival.”
“’She’? So you too are convinced they’re women?” Quincy noted as he glanced at the newspaper photos. He focused in particular on the transparent abdomens of both Knight Sabers. “After all, we built belly-buttons into Sylvie and the girls as well.”
Madigan knew he was joking and merely responded with a slight quirk of a smile. “Apart from the aesthetics, my team agrees that their movements were just too sporadic and uncoordinated to be A.I.-based. Even though we couldn’t hear them communicate, it was clear each was affected by any team member who seemed endangered. That doesn’t make sense if they were operating on boomer intelligence alone.”
“True…” Quincy then glanced at the newspaper headline again and mused, “Well, the public seems to think they’re women, too. The one thing I didn’t foresee was this hero-worship that’s obviously been created. We have to be careful of anything we do with the Knight Sabers in the future, especially if it’s in public. Genom-related damage to these current media darlings will be a worse P.R. disaster than the boomer revolution.”
“What would be next?” she asked, her curiosity now extremely evident. “After all, we achieved the goal of the test, which was to confirm that they were indeed active.”
“Didn’t you say that we had video blackouts on their arrivals, for the first two as well as the third? So we don’t know exactly where they came from?”
She nodded. “For both local feeds as well as satellite. And when they left too. Even our eyewitnesses could only describe a general direction of where they disappeared to.”
“Then our first priority is that you should have your team study every available video we have of the incident. I want as much information documented as possible on their abilities. This includes that four year old factory video, too.”
“Do we have another priority?” Madigan prompted, knowing the way her boss thought.
Quincy smiled and leaned back in his chair as he stared out at the view of Tokyo Bay. “Yes, indeed. I’m authorizing you to take next month off as a well-deserved vacation. I believe you haven’t had a chance to visit Fred Jr. in a while. In fact, I think I’ll take my own family on a getaway while we’re on the subject.
“When you come back, I want you to assemble the best and brightest available. If they don’t currently work for us, then recruit them. Our goal is to exceed the Knight Sabers’ combat and technical capabilities, in both our boomer girls and in our own version of those hardsuits. I know we currently don’t have anything near that level of sophistication but I think our people are up for the challenge now that we’ve all seen what’s actually possible. We might actually be able to get some assistance and good test subjects from Commissioner Suzuki’s ‘prized’ Neo-Tech Crimes Division, especially given how poorly their combat unit performed against our modified construction boomers.
“The second priority is to develop a covert plan to catch one of these Knight Sabers so we can study those hardsuits. That factory footage should provide clues on what went wrong with that sting operation. When we have the secrets of their hardsuit technology, we will cement our position as the leaders in the field. If we manage to capture all of them, well that just ensures no more competition from them… And definitely continue the surveillance of Daley Wong to see if he has some connection to them. He clearly knows we’re watching him; but it’s just a matter of time before he’ll forget we’re there and slip up.”
Madigan nodded in acknowledgement as she wrote down some notes on her datapad. “Do we have a desired closure time on capturing the Knight Sabers?”
Quincy shook his head. “They’re local and still active after a four year absence. They’re not going anywhere and neither are we. We can take the time to do this right. Unless we actually prompt a need, I doubt we’ll see our Iron Ladies, given that they didn’t seem too keen on publicity the first time around. And if they weren’t in the picture, Genom Corporation would still be the leader in the world in boomer technology….” The President and CEO of Genom Corporation then broke out into a pleased smile and commented, “You know something, Madigan, it really feels good to have a challenge like this. Otherwise, I was afraid I’d actually have to take up golf if things had continued to be as boring as they were.”
“If that were the case, sir, I would have joined you on the greens myself.”
— End Chapter 48 —