It wasn't until about two weeks after I got beat up that I was willing to leave my apartment. The basic reasons – running out of food and toilet paper and the like – were part of it, but also just to get some fresh air, since my apartment was starting to reek of booze. My bruises had faded, but not completely, so I had to cover them up with make-up so as not to draw any attention, aside from the usual autograph seekers, anyway. My side was still tender, but I was healed up enough that I could walk down the street and look fine. But, since my head was still bothering me, I went outside wearing a dark pair of shades, so that the sunlight wouldn't aggravate it too much.

A few days after I started venturing out again, I even decided to take part in a round of paintball at Survival Shot with the girls. As usual, Linna and I were the ones attacking a building, and Sylia and Nene were the ones defending it. Linna snuck into the building through a window on the main level, while I stayed outside, hiding behind one of the fake bushes. I listened intently for any indications that she was in trouble, but the only response I got was a volley of rounds fired, followed by a high-pitched scream from our redheaded friend.

"Aaaargh!" I heard Nene complain loudly. "I thought I had you this time!"

"Not today," Linna replied smugly.

I grunted to myself; Nene always seemed to be something of a sore loser, but thankfully she never complained for long. I took another look towards the building and noticed a wall of vines on one side. I strapped my paintball gun to my back, then crawled on hands and knees towards the wall. I stopped and grabbed my side when it started to throb, but after a few seconds I felt good enough to keep going. Once I reached the wall, I grabbed ahold of some of the vines and started my climb towards the second-floor window.

I don't know how long it took me to get up to that window; I know I stopped and gasped for air at least twice, due to the pain in my side. I bit my lip and kept going, and when I reached the window, I grabbed the windowsill and thrust my body through the opening. I landed hard on my side, letting out a cry in pain as I had landed on my injured side. Go fig. I heard someone running towards the room I was in, but by the time I got to my feet, it was too late. I heard several cracks in the air, followed by several paintball rounds hitting me square in the chest.

"Damn, lost," I muttered, grimacing as I stared down at the red blotches on my fatigues.

"You were careless today, Priss," Sylia cautioned. "Seems Nene and I win again."

"Lemme guess: Ragu Steakhouse, our treat."

"Yes. And afterwards, I have something to ask you."

"Fine, alright."

Dinner was uneventful; Linna stuffed her face as usual, trying to get her money's worth, while Sylia talked to Nene about her plans to expand her Silky Doll shop into other markets, like Sapporo, Nara, and Osaka. I just sat there, mostly listening to the others as I'd shove a piece of steak into my mouth with the fork in my right hand, then taking a sip of sake from the glass in my left.

What am I doing? Sylia's already suspecting something is up, and Linna won't stop giving me weird looks. Maybe I shoulda stayed in my apartment a while longer or somethin'.

Linna may have gotten her money's worth, but I didn't – I normally would've cleaned my plate, but this time, when I felt I was done, the plate was still half-full of food. And after dinner, as I got on my motorcycle and pulled on my helmet, Sylia, true to her word, came up to me with the question she said she was going to ask me.

"It's not like you to be as careless as you were today," she noted. "I know you missed the last two training sessions we held, but that is no excuse to be rusty."

"I wasn't rusty," I said flatly, starting up my bike. "Like you said, I just got careless. That won't happen again."

"I should hope not. Had I been a Boomer, you would be dead now."

"I get it, I get it."

"Perhaps you should go to Linna's gym and spar with her. Our weekly sessions shouldn't be the only workout you're getting. Nene could use some pointers as well."

"It's hard to teach combat instinct to a computer geek," I said cheekily. "I'll see you around."

Sylia never brought up another word of my 'carelessness' after that, but for the next few training sessions after that, it did seem like I ended up doing something that cost me and Linna a win. And when we went to Raven's Garage and fought on the training simulator instead of playing paintball, it seemed like I just couldn't beat Level Seven if my life had depended on it. Linna kept chastising me for it, saying I needed to get my head in the moment instead of having it drift elsewhere.

Dammit, don't you think I know that, Linna?! You're stuck on Level Eight, so why're you getting on MY ass about being stuck on Level Seven?

For some reason, I just didn't have the heart to snap back at her with some smart-ass remark. I just stayed silent and pretended I didn't hear her. But I had, and my head wouldn't let me forget her sometimes hurtful remarks. Why were her remarks bugging me, anyway? Normally they wouldn't. Even on the occasions when Nene would call me an 'apewoman,' I'd just let it bounce off my back. But now...I couldn't shake 'em, even the slightest insults. And I hated it. Furthermore, I didn't understand why I was suddenly so sensitive. Didn't make sense.

After that session at Raven's Garage, Sylia, Nene, and Linna all left, and then it was just me, Mackie, and the Doc himself there.

"Oh, Sis forgot her cigarettes," Mackie said, noticing a half-empty pack sitting on the counter.

"It's a nasty habit anyway," Pops said, cleaning off his wrench. "If I were you, I'd throw them away."

"Give 'em here," I said, holding out my hand.

"Why?" Mackie asked, blinking curiously.

"I'll give 'em back to her next time I see her." He shrugged and dropped the pack into my hands.

I opened up the pack to see how many were left in there. I counted a total of eight. Virginia Slim Lights, her brand of choice. Why'd she pick the light kind? It wasn't like she'd get cancer any slower if she smoked that kind instead of the regular ones. I plucked a cigarette out of the pack, then struck a match and lit it, putting the cigarette in my mouth.

"What're you doing?" Pops asked incredulously. "You don't smoke!"

"You're right, I don't," I agreed, exhaling a plume of smoke, letting out a cough at the same time. "What's it to ya, Pops?"

"The name is Doctor, but I don't know why I bother telling you that when you won't call me such. And as for what it is to me, for one, those are Sylia's, and plus you don't smoke. It's a filthy habit and you should know it's a lot easier to start than it is to quit."

"Keep your pants on, she won't notice if only one is missing." I took another puff. "And if I wanna die of lung cancer, that's my choice."

"Something bugging you, Priss?" Mackie asked. "You usually don't—"

"Don't what?" I snapped. "Don't smoke?"

"Yeah, and plus you've been looking a little...under the weather."

"It's January. I'm probably getting a cold, that's all."

"All right, Mackie, stop asking so many questions," Pops said. "But Priss, if you do insist on you at least step away from the gasoline you're standing by?"

I tossed what was left of the cigarette to the ground, making both him and Mackie jump in surprise. Before they could run to put it out, I ground it under my heel.

"That's alright, I'm done with it anyway. And damn, you really think I'd light this place on fire on purpose? I'm not THAT stupid."

"Thank God," the old man groaned.

"She's just trying to rile you up, Dr. Raven," Mackie tried to assure him.

"And she does a damn good job of it, too."

"That I do," I admitted, forcing a smirk. "But I'm leavin' now. Don't wantcha to have a heart attack before you're due, Pops."

"Get out of here, girl," he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. "And—"

"Call you Doctor?" I finished.

"Yes, please."

"How 'bout Doc?"

"Um, no."

"Would you prefer Gramps?"

"Go, go. And even if I wanted to be called that, I can't. I don't even have any children, let alone grandchildren."

"Ain't too late for that," I joked before hopping on my bike. "But I bet if Sylia had any kids you'd be happy to be their god-grandpa or whatever."

Pops actually smiled a little at that. "Maybe."

"Sis, a mother? Not in my lifetime," Mackie laughed, shaking his head at the thought.

"No, imagine Priss here as a mother," Pops added, joining the chorus.

"Ha!! No way!"

"I'm not the motherly type," I interjected.

"No kidding!"

"Ah, shaddap. I like kids, but do I want any of my own? Not anytime soon, thanks! I'd probably have a hard enough time taking care of a dog!" I revved up my bike and peeled out of there, shouting a quick "See ya" to them.

A dog...hmph. Back when I lived in my own trailer, I'd see an occasional stray dog wander by, and I'd give him scraps of whatever food I had, but none of them could've been what you'd call a pet. I was just someone who made sure they didn't have to go to sleep hungry. Seemed like that was the best I could do for anything or anybody, even Sho. Sho, I really liked him; he was almost like a kid brother, and whenever his mom was working late, I'd treat him to dinner. But could I have raised him by myself like the way his mom did before she died? Nuh-uh.

She was admirable. Me, I'm too much the self-centered type to be able to watch over someone or something else full-time. The only one I cared to do that for was myself, and my friends, whenever we were in battle. But I didn't have to worry about that anymore. Our Knight Saber days were over...at least for now.

It was funny how I'd used 'dog' for my analogy instead of 'cat'...it made me cringe inside, remembering that my attacker had called me a bitch as he tried to get me to hold still for him. Bitch, female dog.... Then again, what would he have called me in terms of cat analogy? A pussy? Heh...fitting, that.

Damn bastard. I knew that I would slit his throat the next chance I got alone with him. But part of me was...afraid?...of even the possibility of that happening. But why? He wasn't really any different from the other punks I'd fought back when I lived on the streets; what made him so unique, so...dare I say... special?

Oh, fuck. Why was I dwelling on thoughts of HIM?! Did it really matter to me whether I ever saw him again or not? Well, sure...I wanted to be the one to end his miserable excuse for a life, but if someone else decided to be the one to put a bullet in his forehead, by all means, I'd let him have at it.