Authors Notes: This is my first fanfic attempt, and I've made the Prologue a bit confusing. It's about the characters in Macross 7, though I intend to thoroughly alter them. Everyone will be very OOC, but I hope to explain it later in the series.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters I'm about to abuse. I don't own the songs either; I'm not nearly that creative. Don't sue me unless you want some pocket lint and an old green sweater.
Prologue
The phone was ringing. Who the hell would be calling her now? For god sakes, it was nine in the morning. It must be her mother, no sense in dealing with that now. She massages her temples, while the phone continues to chirp at her, attempting to alleviate the pounding in her head. Making a mental note to avoid drinking quite so much today, she rolls out of bed to search for some painkillers and a glass of water; there was nothing quite like drinking well over a quart of rum to dehydrate her.
She grimaces as she looks out the window; it was bright out. Water in hand she listens to her mother's bitching on the answering machine. Why couldn't the damn woman leave her alone? Glancing back at her bed she notices the lump of a naked man, the aftermath of an encounter she couldn't remember very clearly.
She wanders across her studio apartment to her kitchen space and sits at the table. Her pills were right next to the salt and pepper shakers, an indication that this sort of morning was typical. Beginning to stir, the unknown man grunts a "Good Morning." He grabs his pants and pulls them on then stumbles to her table with an idiot grin on his face- one that spoke of self-satisfaction and lust. The woman fixes him with a dark look.
"What are you still doing here?"
"Huh? Well…I was thinking that you know, after last night, and things going so well, we might you know, give it another go." His eyes greedily looked over her body; she hadn't bothered to cover herself.
"Leave." She grabs a thin, black, satin robe from one of the table's chairs and puts it on. "Now."
"Whatever, your loss babe." He walks back to the bed area, grabs the rest of his clothes and leaves. Sighing, she returns to massaging her temples with her eyes closed. She really needed to stop being quite so promiscuous. At least she had remembered protection this time, judging by the condoms that were strewn about. Shrugging it off, she tosses the robe aside once again and heads for the shower.
*****
Hangover a mere memory, the woman looks at herself in a mirror, combing out her shoulder-length silver hair. She tosses the comb behind her and begins to seriously assess her appearance. Her hair, artificially maintained the odd color framed her face nicely and gave her bright green eyes a colder look than they would normally have; though, they had developed a certain hardness over the years. Her face, which normally would give her a childish air, spoke of a long, overindulgent night. Eyes skimming over her body, she smirked. It was slender and slightly muscular with curves in all the right place and long legs. She grabbed her breasts, enjoying their weight and assessing their size- a perfect C-cup. It was no wonder all the men at the bars she frequented lusted after her so.
Turning, she walked to a rack where she hung her clothes. Mulling over the various choices, almost all black, she throws on a loose pair of black, linen pants, knotting the drawstring carefully. For the moment she neglects to wear a shirt.
She walks to a corner of the apartment littered with various musical equipment. The baby-grand piano, plain acoustic guitar, and silver electric were obviously the only things that had been touched recently. She plucks up her electric guitar, plugging it into amp. She was going to perform later this evening and she needed a bit of practice. Before she starts strumming, she glances over to the corner at an oddly shaped, pink electric bass. Frowning slightly and giving her head a bit of a shake, she begins playing a melancholy song.
*****
"You're late."
"It happens, get over it. What sort of crowd do we have tonight?" The owner of the smallish bar/performance venue frowns darkly at the woman's response.
"Larger than usual, you're getting a bit of a reputation." Her eyes darken for a moment at this comment; if enough people started showing up, someone would eventually recognize her and she would have to move on again. She was starting to like this place too.
The sweaty man passes her a pint of expensive dark rum, her payment for the evening. Shaking her head, she takes a large swig from the bottle. She wants to have a nice buzz going before she takes the stage.
Fifteen minutes later, she stalks on the stage, glaring out at the crowd of lusty men. The alcohol pounding in her brain, causing her emotions to swell, she grabs her guitar and starts pounding out heavy chords. Her sultry voice soon joins her instrument, in a sexually charged song that captured the attention of even the most drunken of the audience.
I can't believe life's so complex
When I just wanna' sit here and watch you undress
This is love that I'm feeling
Does it have to be a life so full of dread?
I wanna' chase you 'round the table, I wanna' touch your head
This is love that I'm feeling
The song continued in the same fashion, as did the entire set. She claimed unrelenting sexual power. The crowd was absolutely enraptured. One man was particularly impressed by the woman's power. He had to meet her. Never had he met anyone that put so much energy into their music. When she left the stage, he pushed his way over to the bar to talk to the owner. He had to find out who she was.
*****
The bar is closing; she has to leave. Clutching her rum and her guitar she strolls out onto the street of City 7. Thankfully, most of the crowd had left long before, which meant they weren't around to try to proposition her. Wonderfully drunk, she wanders towards her apartment. She feels good; the show had gone well. It always left her feeling delightfully powerful. About to turn the corner, she hears someone call out to her.
"Hey!"
She turns, the voice sounding familiar. It's a man. He's tall, spiky brown hair, torn jeans, aqua tank top, stupid little circle glasses. Oh God, it can't be. The man runs towards her. No no no no no! I thought I was done with this years ago! Maybe he won't recognize me.
"I was at your show, you were-" he found himself stopping short. Up close the woman looked so familiar, the eyes, face. He takes a deep breath as he realized who he was staring at. "Mylene."
"…Basara."
Authors Notes Part 2: I can't believe I finally got around to writing this. It's been mulling about in my head for a long time. I love Macross 7, but the characters always seemed a bit too…wholesome for me. I mean they're supposed to be rock stars for goodness sakes. Anyway, I think that lifestyle would take its toll, especially on someone as young as Mylene, so this is my look at the future of the gang. Don't worry; it's not going to be as harsh as it may seem now. There will be romance and heartache and music and all that stuff. Really, the main purpose is for me to get Mylene and Basara together in a way I think is somewhat realistic. By the way, the song I used is PJ Harvey's "This is Love," it's great, find it and listen if you can.
WARNING: somewhere along the line, this will contain sex scenes, which will most likely be pretty explicit. Since I know not everyone likes that, I'll warn you before the actual scenes pop up.
Umm…I guess that's about it. C&C greatly appreciated. Oh, and I need a title…ideas would be fantastic. Thanks!
-Poe
Email me! cantaloupe53@hotmail.com