"No, nothing yet. When did she leave? ... Well she hasn't shown up here. ... That's right, Midori General. ... Of course I'll let you know, Mackie. As soon as I know something myself. ... Right."
Linna looked toward the bank of elevators as she heard the familiar bing announcing an arriving car. A dark haired woman wearing a red business suit with a navy blouse and pearls stepped out and looked around. She spotted Linna at the phone bank and moved in her direction. Geez, Linna thought, she looks like she's spent all this time just getting dressed! "Oops, here she is now," she said, returning to her telephone conversation. "I'll call you back later." She hung up the phone and turned to face the approaching woman. "It's about time you got here, Sylia. We called hours ago."
"I'm sure it's been difficult, Linna. Where's Nene?"
"Probably pacing a trench in the visitor's lounge. Where have you been?"
"Come on. It can wait until we're all together."
The pair walked in silence down the corridor, past the nurse's station, to the tiny visitor's waiting lounge. Nene looked up as they approached and rose to greet them. "No news," she said solemnly. "Where have you been Sylia?" she echoed Linna, a touch of rebuke in her voice. "We could have used some support here."
"Since Priss was already in surgery when you called, I felt I could put the time to better use. I've been doing some research, and making some arrangements."
"Research?" Nene loved Sylia dearly, and would follow her, as the cliché went, to hell and back. But there were times when she wondered if the icy mask Sylia showed the world really was her true self. Priss had almost died in her arms tonight. The doctors still weren't sure if she would survive the night. And Sylia couldn't find the time to come to the hospital and lend her support because she was doing research! "I hope to hell it was worth it," Nene continued to grumble under her breath as she slouched back down into her seat, staring at the floor.
Sylia ignored her, taking the seat next to her. Linna remained standing, leaning against the opposite wall, near the entrance to the cubbyhole. She rubbed her eyes, red with fatigue, and resumed her watch on the doors to the surgical suite. "In a number of ways," Sylia finally responded to Nene's gibe. "To begin with," she said, very matter of factly, "Priss was being stalked."
Linna slid down the wall to thump onto the floor. "A stalker?" she quavered, her voice betrayed her disbelief. The look of total shock on her face was mirrored by the one on Nene's.
Sylia opened her purse, removing a slim gold case. "Kusanagi Rei. Does the name ring any bells with you?" Both Nene and Linna shook their heads. "I thought you might have met him; I understand that he's a regular at Hot Legs. Anyway, he shot her. He's already admitted to following Priss around for several weeks now; apparently she never noticed. He says they love each other."
Sylia paused in her narrative long enough to light the cigarette she had removed from the case, totally ignoring the "NO SMOKING" sign on the wall. She inhaled once, deeply, then began to resume her story. "Don't put those away," Linna cut in, holding out her hand. As Sylia looked at her curiously, she clarified, "Your cigarettes. Let me have one."
"But Linna," Nene started, "you don't smoke."
"I do now." Sylia and Nene continued to stare at her. "Look, I've got to have something to do," she told them, barely controlled hysteria evident in her voice. She'd been holding together fine until now, but the thought of a stalker targeting one of her friends had shaken her worse than almost anything she'd ever faced. It was every woman's nightmare come to life. "I'm going nuts just sitting in here. And I don't dare leave in case..." She trailed off, leaving unsaid what they all feared.
Sylia gave Linna a small smile of reassurance and tossed her the case, keeping the lighter herself. As she'd half-expected, Linna didn't ask for the lighter, didn't even seem to realize Sylia hadn't given it to her. After holding it for a few moments, Linna began to play with the case, unconsciously turning it every which-way, opening and closing the lid. She settled back into her new vantage point on the floor, watching the doors to surgery. After a few more seconds Sylia continued her story.
"According to the police reports, the investigators say he's exhibiting some of the classic characteristics of a celebrity stalker mentality. For some reason he got fixated on Priss." Sylia sat watching Linna; she seemed to have calmed a little. "To the extent of killing someone who, he says, got in his way."
Linna seemed to falter a little in her toying with the cigarette case, but otherwise gave no outward sign that she was listening.
"They found a body in the dumpster in the back alley. The fellow's name was Honda Kenji, and he was a bouncer at the club."
"Oh my God..." Nene breathed. Then, in a whisper, "But, why Priss? Why shoot her if he likes her so much?"
"He told TPD that Priss had been blinded by the promises of demons, and that's a direct quote. He said that she could only be happy with him, and that someone had to save her from herself. So, since he loves her so much, he was the only one who could save her."
Nene looked at her uncomprehendingly. Linna was still off in her own world: she continued to stare down the corridor. Sylia reached over and patted Nene's hand. "Don't try to make sense of it. He's obviously a very sick person. If there's any good to come of this, it's that he's off the streets and won't be bothering anyone else for a long, long time."
After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, Nene looked around, and asked in a low voice, "So this has nothing to do with... her other activities? I mean, did he find out..."
"No," Sylia replied shortly. At least, I don't think he had time to make the connection, she thought to herself. God, I can't believe this is happening again, her mind rambled, and she shook herself mentally. I've got to keep a positive attitude. Suddenly she smiled slightly, changing the subject. "I hear you're in for a surprise at work, Nene."
Nene looked up. "What are you talking about?"
"The Emergency Medical Technicians at the scene told the investigating officers that Priss would probably have bled to death before they arrived if it hadn't been for your quick thinking. TPD passed that on to the ADP, and you're going to get an award because of it."
Nene blushed furiously, staring at the floor to hide her embarrassment. Then her head jerked up again, and she glared suspiciously at Sylia. "Now wait a minute. How do you know all this?"
"You're not the only one who knows how to access outside databases, Nene," Sylia said slyly. For the first time in hours, Linna smiled slightly. But it disappeared as quickly as it began when the double doors at the end of the corridor opened. A man wearing a white lab coat over blue-grey surgical scrubs shuffled wearily through.
She jumped to her feet. At the other's look of inquiry, she hissed, "The doctor's coming."
The physician entered the visitor's lounge, where he was greeted by three sober-faced young women. He vaguely remembered speaking to the dark haired one in jeans briefly in the Emergency Room. "Asagiri?" he asked, as a matter of routine.
"Yes," replied the other dark haired woman. "How is Priss?"
"I'm Doctor Cengia Walsh, Ms. Asagiri's primary care physician. Ms. Asagiri is still in surgery. She's doing as well as can be expected at the moment. Would any of you be," he glanced at a note attached to the file folder he carried, "Dr. Ryoko Asagiri?"
"I'm Ryoko Asagiri," Sylia answered calmly. "Is there something wrong?"
Walsh opened the folder and began to flip through the paper inside, apparently looking for something. "You are Ms. Asagiri's next-of- kin?"
"Yes, she's my cousin, and I have her power of attorney. Has something happened?" she repeated, a bit impatiently this time.
Stopping his digging, he looked up. "The test results aren't back yet, but it appears that your cousin has suffered some sort of allergic reaction to the anesthesia we used. It was the damnedest thing. I've never seen anyone have a reaction like that before. She's lucky we were able to get it under control in time." He removed a few clipped together pages from the file, and handed them to Sylia. "This is her record from the MedNet database. Is there anything else not in here that we should know about?"
"Everything should be there. She always has her updates sent in," Sylia muttered as she began scanning the file. Walsh stood next to her, rattling on about anaphylaxis and treatments and types of anesthesia.
"She's going to be all right, isn't she?" Linna asked, running her hands through her hair.
Walsh turned his attention from reading over Sylia's shoulder to Linna. "The damage was fairly extensive, but she's doing as well as we can expect right now."
"When can we see her?" Nene burst out, almost before the doctor could finish.
"She's still in surgery now," he repeated. "Maybe tomorrow, or the day after."
Sylia handed the file back to Dr. Walsh. "That's complete, to the best of my knowledge. When will she be ready to transfer?"
"Transfer? To another hospital? Not for quite some time, Dr. Asagiri." The look he gave her plainly said, 'I shouldn't have to explain this to you.' After a moment though, he relented. There were, after all, times when doctors had to be treated like The Rest of the World. With a relative involved, it was clearly the time to treat Dr. Asagiri that way. He looked Sylia directly in the eye. "Due to the nature of her injuries, and now this reaction, your cousin is going to be a very ill young lady for quite a while. She'll be in intensive care for the foreseeable future."
Sylia took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, her face briefly betraying her worry for Priss. "All right Doctor. No offense intended to you or this hospital, but I'd like to transfer her to a private facility as soon as she's able. Would you be the appropriate person to contact about the arrangements?"
A sour look crossed Walsh's face as he stared at Sylia. The temperature in the room seemed to drop more than a few degrees. "Yes. Please excuse me, I have to return to surgery." As he turned and walked away, they could hear him muttering, "Better worry about her surviving to be transferred first."
Sylia knocked on the door to the office of Dr. Takezaki Ataru. Another of her father's old friends (and why had so many of them remained available to her, she never ceased to wonder), Dr. Takezaki ran a private hospital specializing in the treatment and rehabilitation of trauma cases. Although he had no inkling of her activities with the Knight Sabers, and she had no intention of sharing that particular secret with him, she supported his facility with generous donations. They helped at a time like this.
No one answered her knock. With the ease of someone who knows she'll be welcome, Sylia entered the office anyway, closing the door behind her. Making herself comfortable in one of the chairs facing the cherrywood desk, she removed a palm-top computer from her bag and began entering notes. She wasn't left waiting for long.
"Well Sylia, punctual as ever," Takezaki smiled as he entered his office. He motioned for her to remain seated as he took the leather- bound chair next to her.
Some things never change, she thought. It didn't matter where they met, or if she was early, late, or right on time. He always greeted her that way. "Of course, Takezaki-sensei. I wouldn't want to disappoint you," she briefly returned his smile, then turned serious. "You wanted to see me? How is Priss?"
"You should ask your friend that, Sylia." At her puzzled look, he elaborated. "Someone has been hacking into this hospital's patient records. The other day I overheard that little red-headed friend of yours and Priss's -- the one that's the police officer..."
"Nene."
"Nene, yes. The other day I overheard Nene tell Priss that we were going to take her off the ventilator that day." He frowned at Sylia. "Now, unless she's been sneaking into the nurse's station to read the patient charts or bribing my staff, the only way for her to have known that is to have read the on-line transcription of Priss's chart records. I would have thought a police officer, of all people, would know better than that."
Sylia looked a bit abashed for a moment. "Takezaki-sensei, I don't know what to say. Surely you don't really think Nene broke into your computer system, do you?" He continued to stare at her.
"Just tell her for me to make certain it never happens again."
"Of course. Perhaps she can have her department look into this for you."
Takezaki smiled a bit at this, as if to say, 'I don't believe a word of it, but I'll give you one chance to straighten her out.' "Good. Now then, about Priss..."
"How is she?" Sylia repeated.
Takezaki sat silently, collecting his thoughts. He remembered back to the night two weeks earlier when a very distraught Sylia had called to ask about admitting a friend who had been shot. The next day, reviewing her friend's case file with her attending physician, he had been impressed again with the amount of damage that one bullet could cause.
The only external indications of injury were the entry wound in her chest and the obvious signs of a broken left shoulder. However, she had also suffered extensive internal injuries from shrapnel, not to mention complications from her reaction to the anesthesia. Priss had been lucky that the explosive load in the ammunition was small: a larger charge could have easily blown her arm off.
"What can I say? She's doing very well, considering everything she's been through. Dr. Walsh and his team at Midori did a remarkable job keeping her alive long enough to put back together." Takezaki seemed to be gazing at something over Sylia's left shoulder as he mentally ticked through Priss's case file. "All the fragments are out of her heart and lung, and there's been no sign of further arterial bleeding. All we can do now is monitor the healing progress in those areas. In another few days we'd like to go back in and rebuild her shoulder."
"But..."
Takezaki broke from his reverie. "What?"
"I think I heard an unspoken 'but' there." Sylia looked at him steadily. "What's going on, Doctor?"
He sighed. "It's the anaphylactic reaction. Her lungs are healing, but her trachea, larynx, and vocal cords aren't. The standard treatments aren't working very well for some reason. Since you authorized it, we're going to try some new treatment regimens. But her shoulder is going to have to wait until we get this mess cleared up. She's had five operations in the last two weeks; unless it's life and death I'm not subjecting her to any further surgeries right now. They put too much of a strain on her respiratory system."
Another long pause, then, softly, "But in any case, I'm afraid her voice may have been irreparably damaged."
Sylia closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Priss is strong, she can handle anything... but this...
The doctor watched the emotions flicker across his friend's face. When she appeared to have calmed herself, he added quietly, "I'm so sorry, Sylia. I understand that she's a singer. Obviously, we'll do everything we can, but I just wanted to let you know how things stand. A lot of her recovery is going to depend on her attitude. She's going to need her friends to help her through this." He stopped for a moment, removing his glasses. "Which is the main reason I asked you to come by today." Sylia looked up at that, shaken from her private thoughts. "Priss had some visitors this afternoon. Some of her bandmates. Apparently there's been some bad news..."
"Priss?" By the glow of the indicators on the monitoring equipment, Sylia could just make out a human shape on the slightly elevated hospital bed across the room. She appeared to be sleeping. Sylia quietly closed the door behind her and ghosted through the darkness.
"Sylia?" The voice, little more than a whisper, was harsh, raspy, and deep. If Sylia didn't already know the identity of the owner, she would have been hard pressed to guess its gender.
"Yes, it's me. How are you feeling?" She moved a chair from its place along the wall, setting it down beside the bed.
"How the hell do you think I'm feeling!" The strain that exclamation of rage put on her abused body led to a coughing fit. Sylia was about to ring for help when it finally subsided, and Priss lay back, panting for air. She never seemed to be able to get enough air these days.
"Would you like something to drink?" At her nod, Sylia poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table, then held it for her while she drank.
"Thanks."
They sat a while in the darkness, each to her own thoughts, accompanied only by the whirrs and beeps of the machines monitoring and supporting Priss. At length, Sylia softly asked, "What happened? Takezaki-sensei said you had visitors, and that you've been upset since they left." Nothing. "Priss, please. Talk to me."
For the longest time Sylia thought she wasn't going to answer. Although she'd loosened up over time, Priss was still more comfortable keeping her own counsel. Finally, she spoke, haltingly, having to pause occasionally to get her breath.
"The guys... came to see me today. That bitch... from the record company... says they have to start... performing... next week or... they lose the contract... Contract clause... They were very... nice about it. Said... they felt terrible. They've been... assigned... another singer." Now the glow from the machines revealed unshed tears glistening in Priss's eyes. "All those years... all that work... and I'm out... like that... They're going on... without me... and I'm... I'm..."
"Oh Priss." Sylia leaned forward, gathering her into a gentle hug as Priss sobbed heartbrokenly into her shoulder.
The weeks passed.
In a luncheon ceremony, Nene received the ADP's Meritorious Service Medal for 'conspicuous presence of mind in an emergency' and 'performance beyond the bounds of her expertise and training'. In a surprise announcement, Linna was given a Civilian Assistance Award by the TPD. She professed to being very satisfied with the ¥100,000 and the certificate that the award brought to her.
Mackie was selected to participate in an exchange program with a technical school in Germany. He'd left in early March, at the beginning of the new school year in Japan. Dr. Raven was sure he'd be able to continue to support Knight Saber operations without Mackie's help. Sylia wasn't as sure that he'd be able to keep up, and began to look for a reliable, yet discreet, technical assistant for him.
Sylia decided that, since Mackie would be away for the better part of a year, it would be a good time to do major renovations on both the Lady 633 building and her penthouse. Renovations to the Knight Saber's complex were also in the offing, including the addition of an aircraft hangar large enough to support the jet she had recently purchased.
Priss continued to heal. Dr. Takezaki's surgeons rebuilt her left shoulder when she was strong enough to withstand further surgery, and cosmetic surgery and other treatments erased almost all the scarring left behind. Her voice was also healing, but Dr. Takezaki's prediction had come to pass. It was still very raspy and fluctuating in tone, but it had become clear that there was permanent damage. Her voice therapist had promised she would be able to sing again, but privately Priss had her doubts.
Psychologically, Priss was having trouble coming to terms with what had happened to her. Being 'fired' from the band had been a tremendous emotional blow, and there was a great deal of concern that it would affect her physical recovery. She spent the majority of her time lying in the dark, unresponsive to all who approached her. She wasn't sleeping much, or for very long, because of horrible, recurring nightmares mixing recent events with demons from her past.
Only twice in the first few weeks of her recovery had that wall cracked. The first was during Sylia's visit, shortly after she was forced out by Nezumi. The second was when Paul, the bassist with her former band, came to visit her in the hospital. It seemed that Nezumi was engaging in that age-old industry practice of signing a band, then replacing the musicians and promoting the singer. Mr. Andrue, the man assigned by the label to handle The Replicants, had just informed Paul that his services were no longer required. Paul, looking for a comforting shoulder to cry on, came to see Priss. Priss took great delight in having him thrown out on his ear.
Shortly after her shoulder surgery, Priss was released from the hospital and sent to recuperate at Linna's. After finally finishing her degree at night school, Linna had recently begun working at a stock brokerage. She had been charged with delivering Priss to Dr. Takezaki's rehabilitation center every morning for her therapy sessions, and with picking her up again at the end of the day.
The subject of Kusanagi Rei was taboo. When she had recovered enough to talk, Priss had impassively answered the questions of the police investigators, stating that she had never met the man, didn't know who he was, and couldn't identify him. But once they were finished, she refused to discuss it with anyone. Her psychotherapist was concerned, but seemed to feel that this denial was just a stage that needed to be worked through. Sylia was more alarmed. She knew just how much feeling Priss could bottle up inside. When it finally got out, Priss would either explode or fall apart.
The Reps were kicking ass tonight. One of those nights when the band fed off the crowd's energy as the crowd fed off the band's.
Priss, out front once again, takes it all in. An intense feeling that could only culminate in an almost orgasmic climax. She lived for these moments.
Akuma to Tenshi no Enjiru. Tight. Precise. The way it should be. And at her feet, the world. She holds them in her hands, has them in her control, ready to do her slightest bidding.
But now there is a distortion in a small part of that world, as the bobbing and dancing crowd in her domain parts to allow entry to a dark-haired man wearing sunglasses despite the darkness, and a dark jacket despite the heat.
Leon, with that ever-present 'all's right with me so all's right with the world' smirk on his face, and she grins back. She glances off into the crowd for a moment, and when she looks back it's not Leon smirking at her, but Largo, back from the dead.
Shocked, she turns to warn the band, only it's not the Reps behind her after all. The trio looks at her curiously, and stops playing. "Guys, we've got to get out of here," she warns them.
"Hey, don't drag me into this," Linna cautions, as she steps from behind the drum set.
"Yeah, Priss," Nene says, as she packs up the twin-necked guitar she's been playing. "This is between you and him."
"You're on your own with this one," Sylia says, as she disconnects her bass from the amp and follows the others off the stage.
Her feet are frozen; she can't follow. Panicked, she looks around wildly, trying to find someone, anyone to help her.
Largo begins to laugh, and gestures to the heavens, summoning the wrath of a God.
"NoooOOOO!" The shattered scream had Linna off the couch and running for her bedroom before she was even fully awake. An all too common occurrence of late.
She hurtled through the open door, and rushed to the bedside. Priss was fighting against the sheets tangled about her as she tried to sit up, and Linna was afraid she'd hurt herself. Again. The week before she hadn't been as quick on her feet when the nightmares struck, and, as a result, Priss had thrashed herself out of bed and reinjured her shoulder.
"Priss, Priss," Linna called out as she grabbed her comrade by the arms. "Come on, wake up, it's just a bad dream."
Eventually she stopped struggling, and Linna shifted from simple restraint to a hug of support as great, wracking sobs shook Priss's unaccustomedly fragile body. "Shh, shh, hush now... It's ok... it's all right..." Linna soothed. A few minutes later she felt Priss stiffen in her arms, and she let go with a sigh. "Are you OK now?"
Priss peered back through the darkness. "I'm fine."
"Priss, come on. You've got to talk to someone. What was it this time?"
"Nothing. Leave me alone."
Linna sighed in exasperation. From the stony expression on her face, Priss was obviously back in mule-mode, another all too common occurrence lately. "Fine. As long as you're all right?" Priss nodded, and Linna didn't believe her for a minute. "OK, then I'll be just outside if you need anything," she said as she stood and made her way to the door. "Goodnight."
"'Night," came the subdued reply.
Left alone again in the shadows, in the large bed in the strange bedroom, Priss ignored the dampness on her cheeks and stared at the ceiling, willing sleep not to come.
Sylia had just finished reading the morning paper when her phone rang. The scanner indicated an audio/video signal sourced from ADP Headquarters. What could Nene be calling about at this hour? she thought as she slid into the seat in front of the monitor. She pressed the 'Accept' key, and was immediately faced with a very distraught redhead.
"Sylia, I don't know how to tell you, but..." Nene puffed, practically hyperventilating in her distress.
"Calm down, Nene. Take a couple breaths and take it slowly." Nene did as instructed, but it didn't seem to help.
"You... I... You... You're not going to believe this," Nene stammered. "Kusanagi's gotten away from TPD."
"WHAT!" Sylia sat bolt upright in her chair, stunned. "What happened?"
Nene swallowed hard, still trying to regain her composure. "About an hour ago. They were transporting him to Court, and got involved in a traffic accident. And when the guards weren't looking, he just walked off and an all-points bulletin just went out about it and as soon as I heard IcalledyouwhatarewegoingtotellPriss?" Nene was talking so fast by now that it was difficult to understand her. Fortunately, Sylia got the gist of the message.
Checking the time, Sylia muttered to herself, "She's already at the rehab center for the day." Looking up into the screen she added, more audibly, "Don't worry Nene, I'll take care of it." She smiled at the younger woman encouragingly. "Keep your eyes and ears open. Get all the information about this that you can, and meet me here tonight." Nene swallowed again, nodded, and closed the connection.
Sylia sat for a few moments, her mind churning over the possible consequences of Nene's news. Her first thoughts were for protecting Priss. From Kusanagi, obviously; who knew what he might have in mind. But also for protecting her from herself. There was no way of telling how she'd react to the news.
Reaching forward, she keyed in a comm-code she'd recently become very familiar with. "Dr. Takezaki's office, Hiroe speaking. How may I help you?"
"This is Sylia Stingray. I need to speak with Takezaki-sensei, immediately. It's an emergency."
"Pull over. I always meet her right here."
Linna and Sylia sat in Sylia's red Mercedes, parked on the street outside the rehab center. From the outside it appeared that the two women, facing each other, were chatting to pass the time while waiting for someone. While it was true that they were waiting for someone, it was also the only thing true about their appearance.
Sylia, in the driver's seat, was looking out the windows on the passenger side of the car, watching the parking area for any sign of trouble. Linna, riding shotgun, was scanning the front of the building out the driver's side windows. Neither had had much to say since Sylia had picked Linna up from work an hour before.
After about ten minutes, the sliding doors at the front of the center whooshed open, and Priss stepped out, accompanied by a security guard. Linna opened the car door and waved Priss over, then got into the back seat.
It broke Sylia's heart to see Priss like this. She had lost a great deal of weight, to the point of gauntness, and it did not suit her. Her usual confident stride had disappeared, replaced by a stooped shuffle, as if she bore the weight of the world on her back. A car door slammed in the parking area, and Priss jumped, looking about wildly. Her eyes greatly resembled those of a trapped wild animal. And this is the person who keeps telling everyone that everything is all right, Sylia thought sadly.
While Priss slowly climbed into the passenger seat, the guard stood between her and the outside world, shielding her with his body while he scanned the area. Sylia and Linna exchanged a significant glance. Once Priss was safely inside, the guard turned and leaned into the car. "The Doctor said some people had reported troublemakers in the area, and asked me to see Ms. Asagiri out today. You ladies be careful, now." He stepped away from the car and closed the door. With a nod to him, Sylia pulled smoothly away from the curb.
Linna unlocked the door to her apartment, and stepped inside. Priss started to follow, only to be checked by Sylia's hand on her arm and a shake of her head. Linna removed her sneakers, and stealthily moved into the apartment, leaving Sylia and Priss standing silently outside the door. Five minutes later she returned. "OK, it's clear," was all she said, then she retreated to her kitchen.
The other women stepped into the entryway, and Sylia closed and locked the door behind them. "What's going on?" Priss asked as she toed her shoes off. Something was obviously wrong, and she didn't like being kept in the dark.
Sylia straightened from removing her shoes. "Let's go to the living room; it's been a long day and I'd like to sit down."
"If it's all the same to you, Sylia, I'd rather go lie down instead. I'm exhausted. I didn't get much sleep last night."
"Just for a few minutes, then you can lie down. Besides, don't you have to take some medicine about now?"
Priss sighed, and shuffled off into the apartment proper, followed by Sylia. Blender noises could be heard from the kitchen as they entered the living room. Priss slumped onto the couch, while Sylia took a chair opposite her. Linna soon joined them, carrying a tray with a large glass and two coffee cups on it. She set the tray down on a side table, then handed one of the cups to Sylia.
"Here you go, Priss," Linna said brightly, as she sat on the couch next to her. She handed her the glass and kept the other coffee cup for herself. "Chock full of those healthy vitamins and nutrients. Drink up!"
Priss stared at the glass as if it had a dead animal floating in it. To help her regain some of her lost weight, she was supposed to drink a special high calorie, high vitamin, high nutrient beverage four times a day. It may have been good for her, but it tasted awful. Assuming the air of a martyr, she made a face, then attempted to drink it all down at once.
Sylia stifled a small smile. There were times when small flashes of the "old Priss" came through. Sylia hoped that they were a sign that, eventually, Priss would recover from this ordeal.
After a few minutes of relative silence, punctuated only by drinking sounds, Priss could take it no more. "All right," she rasped, "what is it?"
Linna and Sylia exchanged a glance, and Linna made an 'over to you' gesture. Sylia set her half-finished coffee down, and looked at Priss. "Kusanagi Rei has escaped police custody," she said bluntly. The blood rushed from Priss's already pale face, and she swayed slightly on the couch. Linna quickly reached out and put a steadying arm around her. "Nene says every police officer in the city is on the lookout for him. Don't worry, they'll find him."
"Oh, God," Priss croaked, tears coming to her eyes.
"Priss," Linna began softly, "Sylia's talked to the TPD. In a little while they're coming here to pick both of us up. They're going to take you someplace where he can't find you, and I'm coming along to keep you company."
Priss paled further, if that was possible, and her mental, physical, and emotional stress and exhaustion came crashing down on her all at once. "You think he's coming here, don't you? He's coming here to get me, isn't he?"
"No, Priss, no no. It's just a precaution. Nothing's going to happen to you. I'll be there to make sure nothing happens, and TPD will have people there too." Priss wasn't listening.
"He killed Kenji," she said in a rising whisper, tears streaming down her face, "and now he's coming to kill me. He's coming to kill me! Oh, God, what am I going to doooo!" Her shattered wail echoed around the room, and she collapsed forward out of Linna's arms, hands over her face. Head to her knees, she began rocking back and forth on the couch, sobbing. A horrified Linna looked across at an equally appalled Sylia.
Sylia quickly crossed the room and knelt in front of the pair on the couch. Taking Priss's hands in her own, she made soothing, nonsensical noises, trying to calm her. Linna put her arm back around Priss, trying to provide some comfort of her own.
It took almost half an hour for Priss's emotional storm to abate, a half-hour that was wrenching to all of them. Sylia had moved to the couch, sitting opposite Linna, both providing physical and emotional support to their friend.
"Do you trust me, Priss?" Sylia asked softly, as if speaking to a frightened child. Priss looked up, her eyes red from weeping, and nodded hesitantly. "Good. I'm glad." Sylia smiled. "I'm going to make you a promise." Sylia looked solemn now, gazing steadily into Priss's eyes, as if they were the only ones in the room. "I promise you that nothing is going to happen to you. I won't let anything happen to you. Do you believe me?" The hesitant nod came again.
"Good. Now, in a little bit TPD is going to come by and take you to a safe place; somewhere where nobody can find you unless you want them to."
"Are you coming too?" came the tremulous, whispered reply.
"Linna's going to go with you. But if you want me to come see you, or you just want to talk to me, you know all you have to do is call. Is that OK?"
Again the hesitant nod. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to make sure no one's going to harm you. And no one will. Not while I'm around."
The dream begins the same. On stage. The rush of performing. The godlike power over the faceless minions. And then a dark-haired woman, incongruously dressed in a deep purple business suit, approaches from the crowd.
Priss's mind fills with confusion. Sylia? What are you doing here?
Sylia pauses in front of the stage, and smiles up at her. A mother's smile, full of love and compassion.
And then a shift, and it is her mother's smile. Her mother, as Priss best remembered her: tired after a long day at the office, but never without time for her little musume, her little Priss-chan.
She feels the tears of joy start to form. "Mama..." she whispers, her heart filling with indescribable joy at seeing her again. Alive and whole and smiling all the love Priss thought she'd lost forever.
She basks in the infinite tenderness in her mother's brown eyes; a frozen woman suddenly in the warmth of the sun. And as she stares into those warm eyes, her mother raises the revolver, its dark maw rising to a point just below them.
Linna was on the phone, arranging for an extended leave of absence from her job, when the screaming began. Quite literally hanging up on her boss, she sprinted for the back bedroom of the 'safe house', accompanied by the two TPD officers on duty.
Slamming the door open, the officers dove into the room, weapons drawn, searching for an assailant. Linna, following hard on their heels, made straight for the bed, where Priss sat bolt upright, staring blindly, shirt soaked with sweat, face wet with tears.
While Linna tried to comfort her charge, the officers gave the room a quick search, making sure all was as it should be. "God, I hope that doesn't happen too often," one said to the other as they turned to leave.
"Hi Sylia, it's Nene," came the voice-only message on the answering machine for Sylia's secure line. "I got stuck with a double shift again, so I'm on dinner break. I guess I won't be able to make it over tonight. You must still be over at Linna's. Geez, I hope Priss took it OK. I mean, she doesn't need any more worries right now. Well, anyway, just to let you know, they haven't found him yet. I don't think they even know where to start looking. I've got those searches that we talked about running, but I don't know if they'll really do any good."
Nene's message droned on, and Sylia listened with only half an ear. This is all my fault, she thought gloomily. It almost happened again. It still might. I should have made her listen to me, made her see reason. I should have gotten her out of town, even if I had to drag her out by her hair!
The message clicked off, and Sylia sat quietly in her dark apartment. She lit a cigarette, then ignored its presence as several courses of action whirled through her mind. While she stared blindly into the darkness, one plan in particular kept coming to the fore. It had the advantage of being simple, and stood an excellent chance of success. Reaching back to the secure line, she entered a code, then waited several rings for the connection to be made.
"It's me," she said rather cryptically to the answering machine on the other end. "I need to hire your services."