Another Fortunate Accident

Ch. 18 – Playing with Fire


The young woman slumped down into her chair, staring at the keyboard in front of her.

"Nene, you're in awfully early tonight," one of the ADP dispatcher's co-workers commented as she walked past the mentally strung out woman.

"Yeah, just couldn't keep myself away from all this fun and excitement," she responded sarcastically.

"Well, just don't get caught napping from all this 'fun and excitement' as you call it. We didn't get a single call tonight."

"Sounds kind of like the calm before the storm," Nene added ominously.

As if on cue, alarms sounded within the open command center sending officers scattering in all directions as an announcement blared through the PA system. "We have a report of a boomer incident in progress… all hands assume threat status 'Charlie'."

"You just had to say something, didn't you Nene?" the other dispatcher chided as she ran back down the stairs to her post.

The blond woman began to frantically organize her workstation while defending herself at the same time. "It's not my fault!" she yelled into the back of her departing co-worker. Placing the headset over her ear, Nene logged into the network while starting the process of arranging resources in her head. As her mind turned over the possible courses of action by the responding ADP officers, she froze in place from a stark realization of what was really happening. "I'm the only one left…" she whispered to herself in distraught recognition.

Leaping out of her chair the teenager skipped every other step on the way out of the command center, mind full of the empty hardsuits sitting in the pit with no one left to wear them into combat. Reaching the top of the stairs Nene turned the corner towards the exit when she suddenly bounced off of a steel chest, falling backwards and landing hard on her backside.

"Your post is in the other direction Officer Romanova," the immovable object barked out at her.

The small woman's eyes elevated into the towering presence of the on-duty section commander boring through her body with his own twin lasers mounted in his jagged shape of a face. "B… But I'm not on duty yet…" she stammered.

"You're here now Romanova, so get back to your station and help the team out!"

"Yes sir," the dispatcher resigned, not seeing any easy way around the imposing presence before her. As she struggled to get to her feet, a single iron hand reached down to pull her up by one arm, nearly tearing it out of the socket in the process causing Nene to wince out a muffled groan from the unnatural strain.

The section commander wasn't apologetic in the least. "Quit your whining and hurry down there!"

"I'm going!" she shot back rudely, turning with her limp arm hanging by her side, gingerly rubbing the aggravated joint. "I wish he was out in the field right now… I'd like to send him against a boomer all by himself…" Nene grumbled under her breath.

Plopping back down in her chair, she flexed her injured arm out enough to determine it would be functional for typing, if not much else for a few days. Her thoughts turned in a darker direction, as she comprehended what her failure to get away from the station meant to the ADP in the field. They would be on their own… the Knight Sabers weren't going to bail them out this time.

Nene reattached the headphones to her head as she began to listen to the reports coming in. Her heart stopped with the first words that came from the accursed earpiece…

"Totem pole this is McNichols… the boomer is attacking civilians in the Hot Legs club… I'm on scene and engaging… out…"

Nene reconsidered trying to bolt past the section commander with the alarming news she had just heard ringing in her head. Leon was at the club, probably listening to Priss, and the only thing she thought that could save them sat immobile in the pit… its armored plating the same feared color the cleanup crew would find splattered on the club walls in a few short minutes.


Sylia's eyes were locked on the faceless visor, unable to pull herself away without thinking of what might still be. Everything was ready now, all systems checked out. She hadn't told Nigel exactly why she suddenly wanted his assistance with the blue hardsuit, and he had predictably not asked any questions about it. What a strange relationship we have… built on a common ignorance and a dual lack of communication… she laughed inwardly at herself.

The weary woman turned to exit the pit when the intercom system stopped her in her tracks. As Henderson's voice filled the space around her, she had a gut wrenching feeling that the moment of truth had finally arrived.

"The sensors have detected another reaction mylady…"

"Where is this one Henderson?"

"The system is still processing the location… wait… one moment… the boomer is in an entertainment district on the west side of the fault… at a club called Hot Legs. Isn't that where…"

"Thank you Henderson, that will be all," Sylia cut him off.

"Shouldn't I try and contact Miss Nene?"

"No, that won't be necessary Henderson. I think I have everything we need right here."

"Surely you're not planning on going out by yourself in your current condition."

"No. I'll have backup with me this time." So this is what you had in mind Mason… she thought to herself as she scurried over to the change room to don her own softsuit. … the only problem with your plan is that an angry Priss may not even need a hardsuit to take out a boomer And Sylia knew from experience just how pissed off Priss could be after being interrupted during a performance by a rogue boomer…


Stealing a momentary glance at his watch, Leon cursed aloud at his bad timing. "Damn! Another ten minutes and Daily would've been here." The tall man spied out over the top of the retreating crowd, hawk-like eyes stayed focused on the surreal scene in the center of the club as he waited for the flailing masses to push past him and towards the exits.

Standing over the lifeless hulking body of the bouncer, the female form of the boomer was locked in a stare down with the lead singer as she stood frozen in place on the stage, mic still in hand. Suddenly, the glowing red eyes shifted their attention below the stage at a cowering fan, vainly trying to blend in with the tiled floor. The boomer took one step towards the stage sending the terrified girl scurrying to the exit. The motion only served to further attract the death machine's advance. With blinding speed, the boomer cut off her escape path, grabbed a hold of her hair and hauled the girl up in the air with one arm, her feet dangling inches above the ground. Before she could even scream out, a bloody V-shaped protrusion ripped through the back of her chest. The girl's arms struggled briefly to pull herself off of the cold metal appendage doubling as one of the boomer's arms. A moment later, the girl's own pale arms fell still, life finally leaving her punctured body.

Letting go of the corpse's head, the boomer let the body dangle from its arm as it's emotionless eyes retrained their focus on the disbelieving woman still frozen to the stage. Without breaking eye-contact, the boomer lowered the arm and allowed the lifeless female form to sickeningly slide off, its retreating hand drawing forth a grotesque sucking sound, body collapsing back to the floor in a bloody heap.

"NO!" a masculine voice screamed out above the diminishing crowd noise. The boomer turned its attention to the source of the disturbance with no facial expression whatsoever.

A teenage boy broke away from the rest of the retreating masses and charged the killing machine armed only with a piece of wood, crying vengeance with each step. As he reached the target the calculating beast slapped down hard on his chest with the back of its crimson tainted hand before he could even swing the crude weapon in its direction. With the wind knocked out of him, the boy heaved up ragged breaths attempting to recover. The boomer raised its other arm into the air, forming another V with its hand to strike down through the prone human below.

"Wait!"

To his utter shock, the boomer responded to Leon's demand, slowly lowering its arm and turning towards him, ignoring the cowering person below it.

"Well, I didn't think that would actually work," he nervously joked to himself, wishing his partner was with him. Lifting his revolver up towards the red-eyed target, he noted in the back of his mind that this one looked different. It doesn't even look rogue… almost like… His train of thought was cut off by an announcement from the hostile entity before him.

"Primary target acquired."

"What the Hell…" All that Leon saw next was a blur of motion before him. One moment, the barrel of the gun was trained directly into the boomer's chest… the next, the firearm had already discharged into the ceiling, his hands knocked skyward by the boomer's nearly invisible attack. Not that he was concerned about the direction of the gunshot at the moment… Leon found breathing impossible since one of the metal fists from the boomer was impaled into his stomach far enough to nearly crush his diaphragm, the upper part of his body doubling over from the vicious blow. Blackness filled his vision as the big man felt consciousness slipping away.

As it sensed its target's legs slack, the boomer slowly retracted the fist allowing him to crumple to the ground. A trickle of blood lingering on the hand followed its arm as the machine walked around the unmoving form on the ground to face the human still standing on stage, silently gloating in its mission that took less than one minute to accomplish.

Just one minute… one minute ago she had been singing a victory song of sorts… a song symbolizing her rise over all obstacles before her and before the band. Now, the roaring crowds were scattered into the streets, hysterically running for their lives. The rest of the band was running the opposite direction backstage, fleeing the demon preying on its helpless victims in the center of the club. Two dead bodies lay in growing puddles of blood on the floor, a third would-be victim crawling away… spared by the efforts of a lone law enforcement officer. He wasn't just an ordinary officer to Priss however… he was another symbol for her, a symbol of healing for her broken heart, a life preserver of sorts that she had latched onto in order to pull herself out of the swirling vortex her battered soul had fallen into.

Now that lifeline appeared to be cut in two at the hands of a rogue boomer, glowing red eyes boring back into her own again… calling her, mocking her, taunting her… Why? Why?

Something snapped inside of the former Knight Saber, a rage bottled up by the accident, billowed up from the depths of locked away corners of her being. Her body acted on its own, dropping the mic and lifting the stand like a club, leaping off the stage and charging the waiting antagonist, still hovering over its fallen prey. A battle cry echoed throughout the enclosed space as Priss rapidly narrowed the gap between herself and the boomer, even as it stood its ground in the face of her attack. She swung the mic stand with a berserker-like ferocity directly at its stone cold face.

Faster than her eyes could follow, the boomer's hand appeared just beside its head, stopping the iron base just centimeters from the woman's target. With an equally swift flick of its wrist, Priss found herself flying through the air along with the stand, crashing to the ground hard on her side, sliding along the tiled floor and slamming into a wall, the breath temporarily knocked out of her. The rage still boiled within her soul however, willing her injured body upright once more. She picked up the stand once more and steadied herself above wobbly legs, preparing for another attack.

Before she could begin the next charge, the boomer faced her once more and lifted up the limp body of the ADP officer by the neck… readying the other in a horrifyingly familiar stance that caused Priss to involuntarily shudder. A terrifying premonition of what was about to happen spurred the young woman into action, leaping at the boomer with a two handed assault… that was abruptly cut short by a white blur in front of her.

Leon's unconscious body dropped heavily back to the floor with part of the boomer's severed arm still attached. Beside him stood a Knight in shining white armor, blade drawn and poised to strike again.

The machine's advanced programming struggled to adapt to the sudden shift in the battle's momentum, taking a couple of retreating steps back from the new entry into the fray.

Sylia… Priss mentally thought out, being reflexively cautious with her words in her current battle mode. The faceless helmet turned slightly in her direction and nodded upward, a sign that took Priss by surprise for a moment before realizing what the Knight Sabers' leader intended. She always comes prepared, doesn't she… The singer had another concern first however… "Try to get that thing away from him," she yelled out, pointing down at Leon's prone form.

With another nod the White Saber sprang on the waiting boomer, its programming now prepared for the challenge after the momentary reprieve given it by the two women. The two female forms locked together in a dance of death, blade slashing through air previously occupied by the shifty boomer.

As they parried each other's blows, Priss took the opening given to run to Leon's side. "Hold on! Please hold on," she pleaded to his unresponsive body. Checking his condition, Priss was genuinely surprised to find no gaping hole in his midsection. In fact, the only external injury she could find was a couple of small skin-deep scratches. Dislodging the remnants of the boomer's arm from his neck, Priss then attempted to lift the heavy ADP officer… only to find that task impossible. Rolling him onto his back, she dragged him as far as she could manage, stopping at the foot of the short set of stairs leading to the backstage area. With the fighting momentarily taking place on the other side of the club, the concerned woman checked his condition again. She quickly found him both breathing and having a pulse, which put her at ease slightly… until the White Saber slammed into a wall not too far away from where they were hiding. Priss watched as the boomer tried to follow up with a kick, only to narrowly miss the now wobbly Sylia. The former Knight Saber took one more look into Leon's still unconscious form and quickly made her decision. Temporarily abandoning him, she ran through the door to the backstage area and to a stairwell leading to the roof, recalling the promise she had mentally broken just a few minutes ago. However, instead of selling her soul to the devil himself, she felt as if she was giving in to the devilish mind of Sylia… all for the sake of one Leon McNichol…


"Excellent! Excellent! Everything is proceeding as planned, wouldn't you agree Mr. Bikatsu?" the pale skinned man asked a very dead body lying unnaturally at a control console. From within the small command van parked not too far away from the festivities, Mason safely monitored the status of his test platform… an assassin boomer being secretly developed by a carefully hidden Genom research facility. The late Mr. Bikatsu had been kind enough to assist the crazed executive in his unholy plan, and perhaps with a touch of blackmail added for incentive. Fortunately for Mason, the scientist was capable of starting his operation without any further assistance, making the 'cleanup' afterwards that much easier. Mason couldn't help but crack an evil grin at the dark beauty of his plan.

This project was the brainchild of one of his closer competitors within Genom's upper circle and had already suffered some serious setbacks. Now, with the apparent failure of its latest model going rouge and attacking a popular singer in the underground club circuit, the whole project stood to be torn down, permanently discrediting his rival… while at the same time prodding the Knight Sabers into completing his own dirty work for him. It was still possible for Mason to try to accomplish the exhaustive search using his own resources. However given Quincy's tireless attention to his efforts, Mason realized those resources were better kept in check until the last crucial minute… when Tokyo would once and for all suffer his insane wrath.

A green flash jolted Mason from his self-induced power trip, luminescent glow overpowering the dim red light inside the van. A ghostly voice wisped from the electrical circuitry all around the stunned executive, projecting one word into his consciousness… "play… play… play…"

Mason's grin impossibly doubled in length as the corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably, madness wiping away the remaining vestiges of sanity still left in his corrupted mind. "It's starting… starting now… I must find her…" he rambled as part of his own body began emanating a slightly greenish tint as well…


Groggily, Sylia hauled herself upright just in time to avoid a slicing kick from the boomer who proceeded to crash through the wall. She turned towards the opening to find the mechanical beast emerging from the new opening in the structure, one arm poised to strike unmercifully at her again. Before it could follow up the attack, its eyes flashed a bright green color before giving way to a deeper, burning crimson tint. That wasn't the only transformation the lab creation endured, but it was the only one Sylia was immediately aware of.

Just as the boomer's eyes flashed, a piercing scream blasted from the inside of Sylia's eardrums. Her eyes crossed causing the Knight Saber's vision to blur from the intense pain. Reflexively, her armored hands once again vainly tried to block out the internal assault on her mind. The White Saber crumpled to the floor, balled up, lying on her side in a near fetal position. The sonic scream finally faded but the pain remained, rendering her helpless as all conscious thoughts were scattered from her mind.

The newly mutating boomer's programming disintegrated under the weight of outside influences, animalistic instincts taking over, driving changes to its rapidly deteriorating shape. Sharp claws grew from the remaining stub of an arm, tentacles exploded from the other. Through bloodthirsty eyes, it viewed the shaking armored target curled up on the ground below. With little effort, the beast's new appendages encircled the human shape and flung it across the open space, crashing against a support beam near the far wall. It slumped back to the ground motionless.

The creature scanned the immediate area for another potential victim, quickly locating one it barely recognized as a former target. It approached the equally prone but still breathing body lying on the ground next to some stairs. The exterior shell around its claw bubbled in anticipation of a killing blow, lifting up towards the ceiling in a planned strike. The razor sharp fingers sliced down towards the soft flesh of the unconscious human, aiming for the center of his chest. The knife-like objects never made it there.

The door at the top of the stairs exploded divulging a blue armored shape that blasted into the attacking monster; catching the arm just short of the target and knocking it's metallic body backwards. The insane creature howled in denial as its hungry rage went unfed for the moment. The boomer's hulking mass echoed a loud clang throughout the empty club as it fell unceremoniously to the floor several meters away. Burning red eyes looked into the faceless features of a blue hardsuit, battle poised and ready to strike again. With another bestial howl, the boomer righted itself and charged with its growing bulk.

The Blue Saber answered the call with her own charge, swiftly dodging the boomer's first slow strike with a quick hammering blow from her knucklebomb. Metal chunks flew off of the boomer's shoulder causing the beast to cover up the damaged section of its exterior from further harm. The Knight Saber took advantage of the wounded monster by adding two crushing kicks to the now exposed opposite side.

The boomer crashed hard to the ground from the expert blows. But not giving up just yet, it lashed out with tentacles once again. The Blue Saber flipped away from the desperate strike and landed just behind the suffering beast. With practiced precision, she drew back her right arm and thrust down into the boomer's back, penetrating the tough outer shell with augmented power from the hardsuit. Her metal covered fingers found their mark, wrapping around the pulsing core of the boomer. With a single thought, her hand began to constrict around the corrupting force breathing life into the monstrosity.

Priss watched the back of the boomer with wide-open eyes through her visor, recalling the lesson learned from the accident with vivid detail. A pulsing green flash inside her helmet instantly blinded her. Rapidly blinking her eyelids, Priss found herself disoriented for a moment before another sense of panic flooded her soul… an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia crept throughout her body from the stark recognition that she couldn't move a muscle. Her hardsuit was locked in place; arm still buried within the motionless boomer's body, fingers still entwined with its pulsing core. Another disturbing sensation crawled across her being from within the seemingly lifeless boomer. Starting with her penetrating arm, Priss felt as if her armor began to flow over her skin, a soft melding of metal with flesh trying to pry her sanity away. As she desperately tried to focus her mind to regain control, an invisible hand raped her consciousness, ripping her mind from its central balancing point, cramming her soul within a small sphere of constraining fear. She tried to scream but found no voice… she tried to move but found her body paralyzed… she tried to think but her thoughts were dissipating into the fear rapidly consuming her mind. That fear accomplished the one feat that nothing else in the world could lay claim to… it caused the fighter inside the being that was Priss Asagiri to cower as it had never done her entire life…


Daily Wong burst through the front entrance of the club, slamming his back hard against the wall, his breathing coming with rapid bursts of adrenaline. Since hearing his partner's voice over the radio, everything else had become a blur. He had to get to his partner as soon as possible. Shotgun drawn, he momentarily listened to the eerie silence smothering the normally rambunctious club. The ADP officer peeked from around the corner down into the tiled floor of the club. Two bodies lay in the floor, their death evidenced by the pools of blood that they floated within.

Not spying any sign of Leon or the boomer, Daily advanced down the stairs to the lower level of the small arena. A familiar silver shape caught his eye directly ahead. He instantly recognized the armored form of the White Knight Saber, lying motionless next to a support beam that she had obviously impacted by the deep rut gouged out of it. A sense of dread followed every step he took towards the unmoving vigilante. Is she dead? If she didn't make it, then Leon…

Daily never finished that thought as a faint green glow from the far side of the club emerged from the other side of the stage area. He instantly recognized both the stationary boomer and the Blue Saber attached to its back. Both were frozen together, encased in the greenish glow barely visible to the naked eye even in the darkened building. Cautiously approaching their joined mass with shotgun drawn, he noted that the Saber's arm appeared to be buried deep inside the seemingly lifeless beast. Before he could investigate further, a groan in a familiar voice caught his ear. Just behind the boomer he saw the rustling body of Leon, just beginning to roll over. Running around the still unmoving twin armored bodies, Daily reached his partners side. "Leon, what happened? Are you alright?"

"Wha… Where am I? Did I get the boomer?"

Daily chuckled at Leon's disoriented mental state. "No, but I think your girlfriend there did?" he punctuated by pointing over his shoulder at the still motionless boomer behind him.

"What girlfriend?"

"None other than the Blue Knight Saber… although I don't know if she's still alive or not seeing as how neither she or the white one are moving anymore."

That statement drew the sore ADP officer quickly off the floor, snapping up to a sitting position… with his abused stomach protesting instantly. "Oww, Damnit!" he complained, covering up his midsection.

"Hey, take it easy."

"What do you mean not moving!" Leon shouted out, not believing the words without visual evidence. He looked up into the glowing red eyes of the boomer, still burning bright even though it wasn't budging a centimeter. "Where's Priss? Where is she?"

"Who? Priss? I haven't seen her," Daily admitted.

Leon was about to ask again when a scream burst the air around them, snapping their attention towards the previously motionless boomer.


The entire universe surrounding Priss simply disintegrated, her body seemingly floating through nothingness. Priss blinked and then found herself drowning in a thick, soupy liquid of green madness. She could sense her mental functions being picked apart by millions of invisible fingers, shredding into her brain. The flailing woman struggled to hang on to anything resembling reality as she sank into the depths of impossibility. With parts of her mind drifting away, a raft of emotional strength floated by. The Knight Saber still within her heart lunged out for it, the fighter finally awakening once more. While attempting to pull her fragmented mind together, the invading hand gripped tighter around her soul, dragging the singer back down into the suffocating green substance below.

Priss clawed for the surface, fighting with every ounce of purpose she could muster. Familiar images from her memory flew past the space above her, calling out her name, trying to help pull her back from the brink. Finally one blurry image stopped directly before the dying woman. It reached out with one hand, lending support to her frail mental state. Priss latched on with both arms and through that shared link, hauled herself out of the green ocean below. She looked into the face of the image… then screamed out the fury of hell itself… Waves of hatred rippled outward from her, vaporizing the penetrating invaders, freeing her mind from the virtual chains holding her back. Priss' body finally responded to her will, her hand smashing closed through the gushing remains of the boomer's core.

Both men looked up at the boomer, who's eyes flickered out, its massive frame fell forward crashing to the floor… revealing a trembling armored Knight, orange ooze dripping from her extended right fist.

"Priss…"

Daily turned at Leon with a surprised expression. It became even more so by the Blue Saber's next reaction.

Still shaking through her armor, the vigilante's hands bent over and gripped her helmet as if to tear it off of her head. Wha… what the hell… just happened? she stammered internally while struggling with her mental bearings, ignoring the external factors for the moment. After a few seconds, the faceless visor lifted up to the sight of Daily and Leon.

"Priss, are you OK?" Leon asked with a certainty that his partner couldn't ignore.

The Blue Saber simply stared at Leon, unable to comprehend what he was saying and why since she was still recovering from the mental assault she had just barely survived.

When the armored form didn't answer, Daily interjected. "Listen loverboy, I think you must've taken a pretty sharp blow to the head."

Before Leon could even think about an answer, the blue helmet turned sideways as if someone else had spoken to her. Suddenly, she turned on one metal heel and ran towards the White Saber.

Both ADP officers watched as she scooped up the rousing White Knight and fled out a side door.

"…And off into the night again, I see," Daily remarked as he inspected the remains of the bloody battle in the club.

Leon tried to stand only to fall back to the ground, moaning while holding his midsection.

"Hold on their tough guy," Daily stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you checked out before you try any more excursions tonight."

"Not exactly the way I wanted to get a day off," the big man added with a painful smirk. "By the way, what took you so long?"

Looking at his watch Daily laughed as he replied. "Actually I'm a couple of minutes early. You're the one who started the party without me."

"Wasn't my choice," Leon threw out somberly, recalling the boomer's words it had said when turning towards him… "Primary target acquired" Why was I the target? Could it be because of Priss… because of the Knight Sabers…

Leon continued to ponder the disturbing facts as he leaned on Daily out of the club and into an arriving ambulance a few minutes later, riding off towards Kanto Memorial to spend the night in a lone bed he'd rather be sharing with someone else…


Shakily landing on another roof a few buildings away, the Blue Saber dropped the clothes she had retrieved from the top of the building above Hot Legs. With another shrug, the limp armored form of Sylia landed with a thud next to her unsteady legs.

Luckily for Priss, Sylia wasn't aware enough to care about her rough treatment just yet. Her vision began to clear after a few moments, her mental functions gradually returning to normal. Lying on her side, she recognized the surface as a rooftop. With a sharp metallic clang, a familiar blue object bounced hard against the rooftop, rolling to a stop within her limited line of sight a few meters away. The staggering form of the Blue Saber appeared in that line of sight a few seconds later, as Sylia began the slow process of trying to right herself. "Pr… Priss, what's wrong?" the Knight Sabers leader called out to her.

Instead of answering her, Priss stopped just above her helmet, then over-exaggeratedly raised her right fist as if to crush the round object at her feet.

"Priss! Wait! What the Hell are you doing?" Sylia screamed out, finally getting to her feet and grabbing a hold of the hesitating Saber's right arm. She spun the startled Blue Knight around and found the unfamiliar face of a crazed woman staring back at her. "What… What happened to you?"

"I… It… alive… then… I couldn't… but, she… she…" When the singer's babbling finally stopped, the terror expressing itself from deep within Priss' soul made itself painfully aware to the Knight Saber's leader. That terror frightened even Sylia herself. The nearly insane warrior abruptly tore away from the white armored figure and practically jumped out of her hardsuit, stumbling out and onto the roof. She curled up on the ground, the tarred rocky texture cutting into her bare skin. She shivered on the hot surface, arms wrapping around her body, gripping herself with quaking hands.

Sylia simply stood in shock. At least with Linna's accident, she could understand Priss' reactions. This made no sense at all to her. "Priss, were you able to stop the boomer?"

The shaking woman's eyes blinked a couple of times in recognition, then she briefly nodded, struggling to maintain her grip on sanity. Her breathing came only in rapid bursts, eyes remaining unfocused, glassy.

"Then what happened to you?" Only Priss' whimpering breaths answered her question. Sylia leaned down to the stricken singer, now dressed only in her underwear from having to squeeze into the constraining hardsuit. She placed one armored hand on her shoulder only to have Priss jerk away at the touch, almost cowering from her hardsuited presence.

The still recovering Knight Saber's leader struggled with the clues. A flicker of inspiration dawned on her as she looked at the cracked open blue hardsuit. Gingerly climbing out of her own hardsuit, she carefully approached Priss. "It's OK. It's going to be OK now," she attempted to reassure the fallen Knight once more. Sylia gently held on to Priss' arm, first allowing time for her to become acclimated to her touch, then slowly lifted up on the arm. To her relief, the distraught woman didn't pull away from the feel of her flesh. She knelt on the ground next to Priss and patently coaxed her upright. Looking into the distant horrified expression on the warrior's face brought a sense of personal guilt to the forefront of Sylia's own mind.

She didn't know exactly how, but she felt responsible for whatever had happened to the singer… especially considering her prior knowledge of the staged attack, and Mason's direct involvement. Could Mason have done this to her? Thoughts of betrayal crossed Sylia's mind before being brought back to the present by Priss' body beginning to fold over again, her vocal responses more closely resembling a frightened child than anything else she could compare. Without hesitation, Sylia wrapped her own arms around the singer's shuddering body and held on tightly, lifting one hand to softly stroke the back of her matted hair. With a confident voice, Sylia tried to fill her mind with strong, calming thoughts, desperately reaching out through the madness visible in her eyes and into her darkened soul… in a way replaying the supporting stance that Priss had given Linna immediately after the accident.

She held her like that for several minutes until Priss finally began to respond, the singer's arms shifting around Sylia's softsuit, clutching onto the back of the skin-tight fabric like a life-preserver. The light haired woman continued to hold on to Priss until the shivering stopped, her breathing steadied out, eyes becoming focused once more.

"I'm glad you're back," Sylia whispered into her ear, genuine gratitude shining through her voice. The words had a distinct effect on the singer… just not the effect Sylia expected.

Priss pulled away from the embrace, face slightly flushed from the proximity and her lack of clothing. "… back?…," she mimicked. It wasn't the compromising situation that stirred her into action however, it was the implied meaning of Sylia's words. Priss turned her head towards the two empty hardsuits and shuddered again. "No! I… I can't…" She ran over to gather up the clothes she had dropped onto the roof and quickly began dressing.

Sylia's worried expression returned to her face as she walked over to the scrambling woman. "Priss, please talk to me. What happened when you put on the hardsuit?" Sylia thought back to her own experience and recalled a specific event that triggered her own demise. "Did you see a green flashing light at all?"

Those words froze Priss in place, dropping the pants she had just picked up as memories began to flood back into her mind. "Y… yes."

"What happened after that?" Sylia pried, trying to keep the line of communication between them open.

"I… I had just hit the core… but… I couldn't crush it… I couldn't… the hardsuit… it wouldn't… then it…" Priss lost it once again, the madness tearing the coherent thoughts of her brain apart from the inside out.

Sylia saw the endless despair reappear in her eyes and immediately gathered Priss up in a reassuring hug. "Your hardsuit froze?"

Priss didn't resist her forward approach, instead focusing internally as she tried to maintain the delicate balance inside her mind. "Y… yeah."

"How did you kill the boomer then?"

She tried to hold back the sensations that had nearly destroyed her being, but the more Sylia questioned, the harder it became. "I… it… it was her," she answered, skipping to the image that had saved her life. At that thought, an elixir of anger washed over her mind, calming her nerves and re-centering her soul.

The Knight Saber's leader recognized the change and loosened her hold on the reclusive woman. "Who?"

Priss pulled out of Sylia's arms and quietly finished dressing, purposely not answering the question. Once dressed she looked one last time at the blue hardsuit, then turned to Sylia with purpose back in her voice. "I can't put that thing back on again."

"Why? Why not? Priss, I need you now… more than ever…"

"I'm sorry Sylia."

The older woman was struck by the sincerity of the apology. All the anger of the past seemed to be just water under the bridge now.

Priss continued to try and explain. "I… I just can't separate her memory from the hardsuit."

"Linna?" Sylia guessed.

"Yeah," Priss confirmed with a hint of bitterness that the other woman mistook for regret, not the specter of hatred that she represented to the now leather-clad woman.

"Priss, she's probably not coming back to the Knight Sabers… ever."

"I know. But that doesn't change the fact that the hardsuit only dredges up those memories. Goodbye Sylia, and thanks for bailing me out tonight." Priss walked off towards a stairwell as Sylia called out to her back.

"Thanks for pulling me out of there yourself. Please though, I really could use your help now."

Priss stopped for a moment and turned her head back towards the woman in the softsuit. "You still have Nene, don't you?"

"After tonight, I don't know. We've got our own issues we're working through, but I can use all the help I can get right now."

Priss bowed her head in thought, then slowly walked to the door and down the stairwell, without replying to her last request. Sylia had a good feeling about her lack of response… In the end, at least she didn't say no…

…help… she needs my help… Why would I care if she needs my help? Struggling down the stairwell of the unfamiliar building, Priss still fought with her control, trying to wall out the anarchy that had set up camp in a corner of her mind. After a couple more flights, she paused, gripping the railing hard enough to hurt her own hand, her breathing becoming more rapid, shallow. I can't go back… can't go back there… she argued with herself, trying to maintain the separation between her body and the hardsuit.

The walls became fuzzy as they began to spin around her. The singer's legs lost their strength once more, causing her to grab the handrail with her other hand. Priss battled with her mental focus, summoning the fortifying images of the people closest to her. One image in particular was effective in balancing her once again, the chaos within her soul beaten back with the help of the emotions tied to this person. With a deep scowl, Priss continued down the stairs as the black hate built back up within her heart. She allowed the thoughts of this person's betrayal wash over her being, cleansing the recent ordeal from the front of her mind.

However, the hate began to corrupt her mind… her thoughts now filled with evil plans of revenge. Her balance lost again, the singer decided to keep it that way, to stay as far away from the madness as possible. So she let those images feed into her anger, budding more hatred and malcontent the more they lingered. Finally reaching the lobby of the apartment building she had landed upon, Priss exited into the streets and turned back towards the club, hoping to find Leon still there. But even as she thought of Leon… the one who hadn't pulled her from the green ocean of insanity… her consciousness turned back to the hated person who had… and the face of Linna Yamazaki boiled the burning rage within her heart once more.


The morning sunlight reflected off the hand-mopped tiling of the country kitchen floor, illuminating the inside of the house with natural brightness that almost masked the dark discussion taking place around the breakfast table.

"That's crazy Linna," Hirata fired out. "That's something the government or the military should handle, not a bunch of female vigilantes."

"Dad, the government is owned by Genom! If Nene's right about their link into this, they'll be no help whatsoever. As far as the military, we've already had to save their butts before, I don't think I want to trust their help this time either."

"But Linna, this is different. If what your friend says is true…" he persisted worriedly.

"I know," she answered with a sliver of dread hidden in her voice. "But I can't just leave her all alone. If Sylia can't help…"

"Can't she find someone else there in Tokyo?" Misa now piled on as well.

"It's not that easy mom. It took me a few weeks just to get the hang of it. They can't just pull anyone off the street, assuming they could even make a hardsuit fast enough anyway," Linna protested.

Her father still wasn't convinced. "But look what happened to you even after you 'got the hang of it'. On top of that, you're not even fully healed yet."

"He's right Linna. How do you know you won't become a hindrance to Nene out there?"

"Mom, Dad, please listen. I know how dangerous this will be, and I know I'm not one hundred percent right now. But I've fought through pain worse than this before, and this battle is just too important to sit back and hope for the best."

"There's a difference between running a track meet with a knee injury and fighting a boomer in a hardsuit," her father persisted. He looked as if he wanted to continue, but just sagged his shoulders instead and let out a deep sigh. "But, I can't rule your life forever. Besides, I can't argue over the importance of stopping this thing from being released again. I just wish I could go with you and help…"

Those were the most important words Linna had ever heard her father speak. A lone tear fell from her face as she reached over and held one of his hands. "Thank you."

Hirata looked up into his daughter's misty eyes and nearly started crying himself. "Just promise me you'll come back in one piece this time," he added half-jokingly.

"I'll try. I promise."

"And what will you do if Priss shows up?" Misa interjected, everything not fully set in her mind.

A deep frown covered Linna's face at the question she had first thought of herself when she had read the troubling E-mail rant from the Red Knight Saber. "I don't think she will mom. Nene said Priss had quit the team and had no sign of her coming back. Besides, she's not exactly the noble type to take on something like this just because it's the right thing to do."

"Are you sure?" her mother persisted.

Linna thought for a moment before answering. "Yes. Yes, I am. Priss would never put on a hardsuit for someone else. She only acts for herself," she threw out the last part unable to hide the bitterness within her own soul. But even as she spoke the words, her heart argued the point, bringing up the fact that Priss had come all the way out to the country just to see her. Look what happened as a result… she chided her own heart. Linna looked up into the concerned faces of her parents and realized they had been watching her internal conflict in silence for nearly a minute, spurning an urge to answer for her own personal torments. "Besides, if she knew I was coming back, she wouldn't get within a hundred kilometers of the hardsuits anyway…"

To be continued…