Chapter the First: Priss of Arabia
The blazing sun beat down on parched earth, but that's what you should expect if you're stuck out in the middle of the desert. If you don't expect a desert to be hot, then you probably should be placed in a special school or something. Actually, if you are reading this fanfic, it probably shows that you were "special" enough to get past our intro.
Damned heat....damned broken crappy Motoslave...damned dry skin. Priss was none to happy to be stuck underneath the blazing sun beating down on the parched earth. She was also none to happy with being naked in the middle of it, either, but if you were stuck in the desert for an extended period of time, clothes would just be a hassle. Priss didn't care about clothes. All she wanted was a way to get home to her lovely trailer and finally be able to conquer the evil clock on her Beta VCR. Sighing, she fell back on the sand and stared up at the equally hot blazing sun. This totally sucks bilgewater....how the Hell am I supposed to live in this friggin' wasteland?? was about the only thing that ran through her head, as it had for the past 3 hours that she had been trapped there. There was some stuff about Leon but that was all mushy & sappy so we won't bore you with the details...that's what Disney is for. Well, Disney and the next chapter.
A few hours down the road of life, Priss awoke from her heat-stroke induced slumber to the murmurs radiating from a small throng of people gathered a few hundred meters away. Normally, this kind of banter would not excite too much interest in the detached Knight Saber, except this time said banter was smack dab in the middle of a desert. With a stunned leap to her feet, Priss craned her neck to sneak a peak at the banterers. Hmmmmm...just a bunch of scantily-clad sluts and hormonal young men...oh wait there's an old one...what the HELL is going on here?? It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that she was understandably very confused.
"In order to obtain the immunity idol, you must run 200 meters to that sand dune over there, and dig through the dirt in order to find an earthenware pot. The individual who finds the pot containing the immunity idol will gain immunity in the next tribal council meeting. Are there any questions??" Priss squinted to watch a khaki-clad man instruct the clan of no longer bantering people in the ways of witless American entertainment. Since the only English she could comprehend was randomly inserted into her JRock performances, Priss figured that the men and women hustling towards the sand dune, from behind which she was cowering, were probably out to get her. Being a Knight Saber does that to a person. Needless to say, she was none to pleased when one of the contestants ran right on top of her stomach. Of course, because it was Priss taking the abuse, her temper exploded with roughly the force of a hurricane as she tackled the man into the sand and proceeded to attempt to bash his brains out. The youth was simultaneously terrorized and stimulated in the worst possible way to be beaten upon by a naked desert-dwelling woman cursing in a foreign tongue. Both fortunately and unfortunately for him, Priss was never the most quiet of people, so the ruckus attracted a bevy of Survivors, one of whom managed, arguably with the assistance of steroids, to yank her away from the nosebleeding (for 2 different reasons...) victim.
***
"Hmph. I swear if my premiums aren't up to date, someone's ass is toast," Sylia stood in the middle of the smoking pile of rubble located on the lot formerly occupied by the Silky Doll. Aside from the fact that her once profitable business was now a smoldering heap, she was pissed off that she had to go alllllllll the way from KANSAS where all kinds of FUN things happen to TOKYO (of all places) where she had to survey the damage done to her cash cow. That topped with a recent diagnosis of premature PMS was a lethal combination for Nigel, who took the first opportunity to go slog down a 6-pack of Bud at whatever was left of his garage.
"Ummm...Sylia??" the silver-trussed schitz...err...Knight Saber whipped around to face her cute 'n' cuddly little boomer brother Mackey.
"WHAT?!?!? Did the bloody FISH DIE, TOO????"
"Well, um, yeah, but...uhh...two things. First, yes our premiums have a clause covering damage done by biomechanical rogue robots seeking an equal place amongst humanity..."
Sylia sighed a breath of relief. This was the only good news she had received in a while. "And the second...?"
Mackey gestured behind him, "Priss is here." Sure enough, as soon as the words left his lips, Priss's figure emerged from climbing the mountainous ruins of the former HQ. Despite a freakishly dark tan and charred pieces of the Silky Doll stuck in her hair from the ascent, she appeared, at least physically, to be in one piece. Sylia was ecstatic to find out that at least one of the Knight Sabres was alive, and ran to her former guinea pi...oh, we're sorry... fellow vigilante to give her a great big welcome back hug.
"Touch me and die," Priss deadpanned her ultra-polite hello. Sylia instantly dropped her arms to the side, and inquired as to how the bloody hell Priss got home...and also if Galatea in fact was dead and she could get back to her normal, everyday life peddling slutty clothing. The only response she received, however, was, "Do I get paid for saving humanity?"
"WHAT??? MY BLOODY ASSETS ARE NOW ANCIENT HISTORY!!!!! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT ME TO PAY YOU WITH?!?!?!?!?!?!?"
"I SAVED THE WORLD, DAMMIT - THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS THANK ME WITH A GENEROUS MONETARY REWARD!!!!! Plus, I can sue you for emotional damages."
Sylia put her head in her hands and muttered, "Do you take traveler's checks?"
"They pay the bills," Exasperated with Priss's response, Sylia ripped her checkbook from hammerspace and jotted out a check to the biker, all the while mumbling about the cost of labor these days and megalomaniacs saving all of mankind and expecting to be paid. When the check was safely in Priss's jacket pocket, she came clean - "She's dead and one of the Survivor guys watched too much anime as a kid so he translated for me and the producers got me a plane home and a free 100% cotton CBS T-shirt."
"What about Linna and Nene?? You guys weren't together at the end???" Sylia inquired. Priss just shrugged, and continued on with an explanation of the final confrontation with Galatea. Because we're assuming you, as a reader, already know of the events that be seeing as you're reading a CONTINUATION fic, we have chosen not to include the details. Instead we will tell you of Mackey finally coming to terms with his newfound humanity and running naked down the street in celebration.
***
Below the wreckage of the Silky Doll, the city was slowly but surely being rebuilt from the rubble. Without a word, Priss and Sylia stood watching the cleanup crews and refugees ambling aimlessly down the twisted streets of the once awe-inspiring city.
Priss broke the silence for once, "So when did they start?"
"Well, right after that glowing reverse rain thing you instigated. They took is as a sign."
"Mm." And with that the silence resumed, until it was once again broken, but this time 'twas Sylia who doth shattered it.
"Priss...you know someone's been waiting for you."
"...Never thought I'd say this...but I was hoping he would..." with that, Priss turned and headed back towards her red motorcycle, head loaded with thoughts.
"What the...Priss, where are you going at this hour??"
Stopping in her tracks, she replied without so much as a glance behind her, "I think we both know the answer to that question."