To be dragged back into a war that you had believed
over is a disheartening experience, to say the least. Our
will to fight was low, and our hope of victory slim.
Nevertheless, we battled on.
War, it has been said, is all hell, and each of us
showed the ill effects. If Priss had most savored our brief
freedom, she also took the return to fighting hardest of
all. Again thrust into a leadership role she felt
inadequate for, she seemed more weighed down by frustraton
and weariness with each passing day.
Even Linna, who seemed affected the least, grew tired
of the constant fighting. Still, she was the most
optimistic among us, insisting that we would win after all.
************************************************************
Stormwalker <stormwalker@airmail.net> presents...
Bubblegum Collapse
A Bubblegum Crisis fanfiction by Douglas A. Reeves
************************************************************
Part Two - A Death in the Family
Linna sat on the edge of her bed, hands covering her
face, tears streaming between her fingers and down her
cheeks. She cursed herself for her weakness, tried to
compose herself... and could not.
"At least the others don't see this," she thought to
herself. "One of us has to be strong." Each of them was so
battle-weary, and the situation looked so hopeless, that she
feared they would all sink into despair. She had determined
not to let that happen, even if she had to lock up all the
pain inside.
She wondered if any of them saw through the facade.
Sylia might, but if so she had said nothing. Priss... well,
Priss had other things to worry about. Nene, so young, had
never lived a lie; she would not recognize the signs.
Finally, Christine. The former mercenary wrestled with her
own depths of pain. Even if she did see, she would be
unable to help. Better to keep up the image, and hope the
others believed it.
Optimism was a difficult mask to hide behind, when the
prospects were so bleak. Linna saw only one end to this
madness... they would die, one by one or all at a time, but
death was certain nevertheless. Still, they had no choice
but to fight. To quit now was to admit defeat -- something
they could never do.
* * * * * * * * *
Sylia sat alone in her databank room, her usual calm
melting into frustration. The hardsuit redesign was a
trying task, and it was taking far longer than she had
expected. In addition, she could see the strain that the
constant fighting was placing on all of them. All of them
were being pushed to their limits, and the leadership was a
terrible weight on the shoulders of Priss.
Her glance fell to her unmoving legs. She would give
almost anything to lead them again, to guide them thorugh
the dangers they faced and to share those dangers with them.
A twinge of guilt stuck in her mind; what right did she have
to ask them to risk their lives when she did not?
She sighed. As any mother would, she feared for her
"children". Each time she sent them into battle, she
worried that they would not return. Nene's injuries less
than two months before still haunted her -- it could easily
have been worse, and she could not shake the premonition
that worse would soon come.
* * * * * * * * *
Linna performed a back handspring to evade a spray of
machine-gun fire, then used her jump unit to burst skyward.
A searing beam of energy flahsed just beneath her, and she
breathed a quick sigh of relief at her narrow escape.
"So many boomers!" she thought as she started to fall
again. "I can barely evade them all." Looking down, she
fired her arm laser at the nearest target, then dropped onto
its shoulders. Ramming the Knuckle Bomber into the
cyberdroid's head just as she leaped clear, she was rewarded
with a fiery explosion. Still, there were too many left...
Priss cursed under her breath as she fired two
flechettes into a boomer that was getting too close to Nene.
With all of the watching of others' backs, she didn't have
time to watch her own; eventually that could prove
disastrous.
A 34-CX charged straight at her, extending twin blades
from its hands. Not bothering to evade, she fired two shots
from her arm cannon. The HEAP rounds smashed into the
boomer's chest, and it dropped to the ground at her feet.
Triggering the jump unit, she leaped backwards and pinned
another boomer to the ground with the flechette cannon.
"I can't see you, Chris," she called out.
"I'm ok," Christine lied. In all actuality, she was in
over her head; then again, so were all of them. It seemed
like all of their fights were that way now. Deploying the
knife from her left gauntlet, she made a backhanded slash
across the body of a Bu-12. Metal ripped through metal, and
the boomer staggered and fell. Even as she stepped back
from the fallen hulk, a laser beam grazed her left arm.
"Ouch!" she cried. "Damn!"
"Watch yourself out there," Priss encouraged.
"Too many other things to watch," Christine retorted,
her voice strained. Finding her assailant before it could
fire again, she unleashed the pulse cannon to its typically
lethal effect.
Nene heard this exchange somewhere in the back of her
mind, but she was too busy staying alive to worry about it.
Ducking an armored fist, she kicked the boomer's knees out
from under it. Ramming the muzzle of her arm laser into its
neck, she fired several shots. A wail of overloading
electronics signaled the end of the metallic monster, and
she rolled forward just in time to avoid a crushing overhand
blow from behind.
Sylia watched in desperation from above as her Knight
Sabers barely managed to hold their own. This fight was the
worst they had ever seen, and the sheer number of boomers
threatened to overwhelm them at any moment. She looked down
at Linna, who seemed to be the most overmatched, with
concern.
Linna somehow managed to spin away from yet another
attack, her razor-whips trailing behind and inflicting
severe damage on the attacker. Planting her left hand, she
swung into a two-footed kick that drove the boomer backwards
over one of its allies. Nimbly returning to her feet, she
prepared to strike again.
"Linna!" she heard a frantic warning from Sylia as her
threat-receiver blared in her ear. Spinning, she looked
straight into the eyes of a charging 34-CX boomer. "No..."
was her last thought before it drove its fist into her
midsection. A blaze of energy flared...
Linna's tortured scream was cut off by the sound of a
muffled explosion. Gouts of blood and fire spurted from the
joints of her hardsuit, and her body went limp as it was
thrown backwards. Crashing to the ground, she lay still.
"LINNA!" Priss screamed as she saw her friend fall.
For half of a second, she stood, rooted to the ground by her
disbelief. Then came the rage. Commanding the
strength-enhancers to full, she physically tore through the
boomers between her and Linna's killer. The flares of
explosions and energy weapons flashed all around her, but she
did not see them... she only saw one thing. Raising her arm
cannon, she fired.
One... two... seven shots she fired, emptying the
magazine. The boomer simply exploded, raining parts on the
battlefield, but Priss's anger was not satiated. Seeking
out new targets, she smashed through boomers one by one,
venting a berserker fury like none they had ever seen.
Christine charged into the fray beside her, first using
the pulse cannon, then going to her knife after the
capacitor was empty. Hellbent on revenge, they demolished
boomer after boomer until the entire battlefield lay at
their feet.
When it was over, Priss just slumped down against a
building and cried.
* * * * * * * * *
The small cemetary was quiet... too quiet, Sylia
thought, with only the sound of a light rain. Without Linna
around, it seemed that none of them spoke much anymore.
Gone was the laughing, the happiness, the light-hearted
outlook that she had brought to the organization. Without a
doubt, she would be more missed for that than for all her
fighting skill.
A little separated because of her wheelchair, she looked
at the three young women there with her. Nene seemed to be
in shock, as if the last vestiges of her shattered innocence
fought to maintain their grasp on her, refusing to admit what
had happened. With her family yet alive, she had never truly
faced death before. It showed.
Christine simply hung her head, hands stuffed in her
pockets and wearing the expression of one all-too-familiar
with death. Indeed, they were on her estate, not far from
the gravesite of her lost love, and the fact was obvioiusly
not lost on her.
Priss, though, had taken it worst of all. The burden
of command weighed heavily on her heart, and now, on her
watch, Linna had paid the ultimate price. She bit down on
her lower lip, trying and failing to suppress the emotional
pain in the physical. Tears streamed down her face, and she
bore the distinct look of one who feels responsible for a
tragedy.
Responsibility. If it lay in the hands of anyone, it
lay in her own, Sylia thought. She had organized the Knight
Sabers, had recruited Linna, and had encouraged her fighting
ability. SHE had sent them into battle that fateful day.
Linna, who had seemed almost untouchable, had fallen, and
Sylia could not help but wonder if they were all doomed to
that fate. Deep in her heart, she struggled with fatalism;
The temptation to admit defeat was strong. Linna would not
have accepted that, though.
"My friends... my family," she spoke softly, and each
of them looked up at her. "We are here to say goodbye to
one of our own. Linna was... she was special, and she will
be missed. Her laughter lifted all of our spirits, and her
loyalty inspired us. I..." her voice broke, "will miss the
warmth of her smile most of all." She tried to say more,
but found that the words were not there. She bowed her head
slightly, and whispered, "Farewell, Linna... until we meet
again."
Nene burst into tears, and Christine put her arm around
her. "I... I don't know what to say. I'll miss being
teased, even. It just... won't be the same." Turning, she
buried her face in Christine's shoulder, crying softly and
hugging her tightly.
"I wish I had gotten to know you better, Linna," was
all Christine could say. "I always thought I would have
more time." At those words, she too began to cry. Hanging
her head, she added, "Goodbye."
There was a long silence after that. "Priss?" Sylia
whispered, not sure whether she would want to say anything
or not. Priss looked up, started to open her mouth, and
then shook her head.
"Very well," Sylia nodded. Taking one last, long look
at the closed coffin, Priss sighed and turned to walk away.
Only then did Sylia begin to cry.
* * * * * * * * *
Ordinarily Priss would have treasured the feeling of
the wind against her as she throttled up her racing bike.
She had never ridden this fast before, except for that one
time chasing Gibson; she knew it could easily kill her, and
she didn't care.
Tears blurred her vision as she raced through the
darkness, desperately trying to escape the pain and the guilt
which haunted her. There was no escape, she realized, but
nevertheless she sought solace in the night. Gunning the
engine, she accelerated onto another highway at a speed
which could only be considered insane. Cars blurred as she
passed by them, but there was still no mistaking one...
Police. "Damn... well, let's see if they can catch me," she
thought.
* * * * * * * * *
Priss grumbled and sat down in her cell. "Stupid,
stupid, stupid," she mentally chastised herself. "You're
lucky to be alive."
"You call that luck?" another voice in her head
responded.
"Oh, now THAT'S a really good--" the first voice
started, then was cut off by a real one.
"Someone's here to bail you out, Miss Asagiri. Come
on."
"Already?" she thought... "Who could have gotten here
so quickly?" Her answer met her soon enough.
"Leon," she muttered, though she honestly was not
displeased to see him. "Why are YOU bailing me out?"
"Nene said you could use a friend right now. Come
on... I won't even try to get a date this time," he said,
looking completely serious for what Priss guessed was the
first time ever. Just maybe...
"All right, let's go," she answered.
* * * * * * * * *
Nene locked the door to her apartment behind her,
stripped off her AD Police uniform jacket, and collapsed
onto the bed. She wasn't sure why she had decided to go to
work, but it was a good thing she had. Priss needed someone
to watch over her right now, before she got herself killed.
No sense in losing two friends...
She began to cry again at that thought. Linna. "Why?"
she asked aloud, knowing that there was no good answer.
They were the Knight Sabers; they placed their lives on the
line each day. She had faced her own death before, had even
come to terms with that possibility after her injury, but
this she was unprepared for. To lose a friend--no, a
sister--so suddenly, and without reason was just too much.
Linna would have been able to help her through it... if
she were there. No matter what happened, she always seemed
to find the best side of things. That wouldn't happen this
time. Sylia, Priss, Christine... each of them had worse
pain than she to battle, and couldn't help her. Truthfully,
she realized, she had nowhere to turn.
* * * * * * * * *
Christine lay on her bed, the room totally dark. She
could not sleep; the nightmares would not allow it.
Spectres of death haunted her--her parents, James, now
Linna. Why did it seem that whenever she started to
appreciate someone they were taken away? Bitterness crept
into her spirit, poisoning her soul. Death was inevitable...
why fight it?
"No." she answered herself aloud. "I WILL NOT give
up." To quit now would be to dishonor the very sacrifices
James and Linna had made, and countless others besides. She
would fight to the end, to the bitter end if need be.
* * * * * * * * *
Sylia Stingray did not cry often, but that night there
was no end to the tears. One of her own, one of her
children, had fallen--had died, and the pain pressed in on
her from all sides.
She had known this day would come; she had known it
from the beginning. Even as she had recruited her Knight
Sabers, she knew that she would lose one eventually. Years
had passed, and she should have been prepared by now, but
nothing could prepare her for this.
Linna's scream echoed in her mind... the sight of her
charred hardsuit, bloodstained at the joints, consumed her
vision. They had not even dared to open the suit, for it
was doubtful that much was left inside; they had buried her
in her armor.
Perhaps if she had worked faster, if she had completed
the new hardsuits sooner, Linna might have been saved. If
she had been quicker with her warning... but no. She was
lost, and could not be recalled. Only her memory remained.
Memory. The smiles, the teasing of Nene, the quiet but
strong support in time of crisis. The anger which burned
silently in her eyes at the death of Irene. Her insistence
that Vision not throw away her life and her talent, the
chance she herself never had. The perfection of her
technique and the art with which she did battle. Linna.
The tears flowed.
* * * * * * * * *
Priss and Leon stood silently in the rain, staring at
Linna's grave. Priss had so much that she wanted to say...
so many words. She had failed her friend--probably her only
true friend--and now that friend was lost. She blinked back
tears, trying desperately not to break down and cry again.
"Forgive me, Linna," she whispered.
Leon stood back from her, wanting to lend her support
but fearful that she would interperet it wrongly. "She's so
afraid to let anyone close to her," he thought. "Why?"
The answer to that question was complex, and was the
first thing on Priss's mind. First her family, then her
fiancÇ. Next came Sylvie and Anri. Now Linna. Everyone
who she let in to her heart died, without exception. Was
the only way to be safe to shut everyone out? She could
not, would not believe that... but it seemed so true.
Besides, she asked herself, where could she turn now?
The other Knight Sabers had their own pain to deal with;
they didn't need hers, too. She had nobody else who really
cared about her; she was alone. She needed someplace--no,
someone-- to run to, and she had nothing.
It was then that Leon spoke. Softly, timidly, he
asked, "Is there any way I can help you?"
"N--" she instinctively went on the defensive, then
stopped herself. "Yes," she said weakly, making herself
form the words, "Hold me."
* * * * * * * * *
Sylia awoke the next morning to find a message on her
computer.
Sylia,
I cannot do this anymore. Not now. I hope to return,
when I am ready.
Priss
PS. Tell Nene I said thank you.
*************
END PART TWO
*************