Omoide ni Dakarete (Held in My Heart) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lights flickered... flashed all around. An explosion rocked the car. Priss gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the pain... but it hurt so much. Sylia glanced down, gazing concernedly at her. Priss feigned a smile, attempting to hold back the tears welling in her eyes. Her entire side was warm... sticky. The bullet had torn her wide open... "Not long now," Sylia reassured her, "We're almost there." Priss nodded, taking a deep breath. It hurt to breathe. Priss closed her eyes, trying to press away everything around her. Fortunately, she was very good at making it all disappear when she wanted to. She'd had lots of practice. "But soon," Priss whispered, "I'll be free..." The car jerked violently, Linna yelling something about Dobermans. Nene screamed, but Sylia was unfazed. Priss felt safe in Sylia'a arms, like a child held by her mother. Priss hadn't felt like this in a long time... for as long as she could remember. To know that someone cared for her... that someone would risk their life for hers... it made Priss feel warm. It gave her hope. It gave her faith. "We'll set the car on auto, then ditch it," Sylia stated. Then, Sylia leaned over to address Priss. "Do you think you can handle jumping?" Priss gazed up at her protector, suddenly sure that if she replied 'no', that Sylia would stay with her to the end. They'd die together. "Just try and stop me," Priss growled, struggling up. Together, they jumped from the moving car, Sylia landing as to pad Priss's impact. Then, they were up and running, Sylia never leaving Priss's side. They ran for ages... then suddenly they were there. "The shuttle's set," Reika stated calmly, "Yall ready?" "Lets rock," Priss managed. With a nod, Sylia began to lead her up the gangway to the ship. As they neared the hatch, an explosion shook the station. "It's the Dobermans!" Reika cried, rushing back towards Linna. Nene ran up and shoved Sylia faster. Together, Priss and Sylia stumbled into the shuttle. Exhausted, Priss felt herself losing control... fading into blackness... "no..." she gasped. The blackness fell around her, long, dark and infinite. She could remember who she was... why she felt so alone and helpless. She could remember the tower on those terribly lonely nights. Priss could remember walking the halls of the Tower... She strode purposely through the hallways of Genom Tower, ignoring the glances from the janitorial staff. They knew not to touch her. She wasn't theirs... she was for another. They knew there could be only reason for a woman in biker leathers to be on this floor. Priss paused at the appointed office, took a breath, and opened the door. The sight that greeted her eyes was a room neither office nor apartment, but an odd combination of each. However, the interesting decor could wait... there was a more pressing matter. Priss walked past the empty bed to the massive bay window, placing her hand upon the cold glass. She gazed, longingly, at the beautiful city outside the Tower window. It glittered so magnificently in the night... she couldn't even begin to imagine what it looked like up close. How lucky, she thought, were the people who lived there. Someday... she would live there too. "They picked well tonight," a voice murmured. Priss turned to face a pasty man with blue hair... Brian J. Meison. Priss closed her eyes, trying to make it all disappear as she unzipped her leathers and let them fall to the floor. She tried to block out his embrace, his sweaty hands... the things he did to her.... Priss forced herself to lay back and take it... pretend she was someone else. Pretend she wasn't human. But, then, she wasn't human, was she? The blackness swallowed her again, drifting away once more. Her eyes flicked open, only to discover her wound patched and Sylia's lips pressed against her neck. She felt warm... A trickle of blood ran down her shoulder.... A new voice entered the dark abyss of her soul... a new voice and a new name. Sylvie. Sylia's friend. "This is Priss, my little sister," Sylia told Sylvie, "She's a tad anemic, but she's got guts. And, she knows how to ride." "Cool," Sylvie said, grinning, "Wanna grab a burger before my show tonight?" "Sounds like fun," Priss said, smiling. Then the blackness swallowed her again. She could feel Meison's embrace again, but it was somehow different. If felt.. like a lover turned father. The same blue hair... but eyes of red and silver. He spoke the words she wanted to hear... told her what she wanted to believe. And, in some sick way, she loved him for it. His hands made her feel safe again... they filled the hole that Sylia had left in her. His hands stopped the pain. The city up close... she wished she's stayed always at afar. How could something so terrible look so beautiful? How did the glittering tinsel hide the putrid shadows? How were the death, the hate, the terrible degradation hidden under the light? Wasn't light supposed to banish shadow? If that was so... then how could the light protect the darkness? How could the facade be so false? "Revenge," he told her as he slid the biker leathers from her body, "You can take your revenge on those accursed Knight Sabers! I will help... if you help me to create a world for out kind. Together, Priss... together we can change the world!" Largo's hands were so gentle... not like his. Not like Meison's. Every touch was so... restrained... so tender. Until that night... when the darkness reared its head once more. Priss watched in terror as that same gentle hand called forth the wrath of heaven and hell, striking down all those who stood in the messiah's way. Gone were his kind words, his kind touches. As she watched the city burn, all Priss could think of was what that hand had done to her. The same hand that had killed millions, running across her thigh... over her breasts. The same eye that she'd gazed into all those nights... the same eye that now marked his enemies for death. The souls of a million dead suddenly weighed upon her soul. "Come along, Priss," Largo said, "We've done all we can here." She turned to follow him, then paused. "Priss! I'm here to rescue you!" And the darkness shattered around her. Priss found herself pressing a knife into Sylvie's guts. But... Sylvie was crying. The tears... they dripped onto her face, matching tracks with her own. "Why?" Priss cried, watching Sylvie's blood run across her hands. Her hand and Largo's were the same now. "I had to shoot," Sylvie wept, pulling Priss into a tight embrace, "Sylia was dead already. If I hadn't, the D.D. would have exploded, killing everyone in the city. I didn't want to... but I was too weak to save her!" The tears dripped from Priss's chin and splattered against her blood-covered hands. "No...!" Priss cried as Largo laughed. The knife clattered to the floor as Priss turned to face him. Gone was every scrap of tenderness, of gentle kindness he'd ever shown her. Nor was he Meison.. he was worse. He was... he was the blackness. And now... he was a part of her. A part she'd never be able to wash clean. "Now, Sylvie," Largo stated, turning his attention to the fallen Hardsuit, "It's time for you to DIE!" With a flick of his wrist, he sent a blast of energy hurtling towards the blue Saber. "NO!" Priss screamed, "Not this time!" Diving forward, Priss took the blast full in the chest. She could feel her internal systems compress and burst, turning her insides into so many pieces of scrap. Blood sprayed from her mouth as she fell into Sylvie's arms. "PRISS!" Sylvie screamed, cradling the ruined Sexaroid in her arms. Priss merely smiled up at her... feeling the same touch she'd always felt from Sylia. "This is... what.. I wanted..." Priss whispered, blood dribbling down her chin, "I... finally... did it..." Priss's eyes opened... and she began to cry. They were tears of joy... of loneliness... of relief... and of sadness. They were tears for everyone she'd ever known... for every life she'd ever ended. She was in her trailer, still in the Tinsel City district. Sylvie and Anri were four months dead. *** Priss stood beneath the willow tree, gazing out at the city. For the first time, she saw it with a kind of innocents... and it was beautiful. Even Genom Tower... was beautiful. Priss turned away from the sight, returning her attention to the task at hand. She walked from the willow, slowly gazing at the lots. Sylia owned this graveyard... each Saber had a lot saved back for them. The final bonus, as it were. However, it wasn't her grave that Priss'd come to see. Kneeling, Priss ran her fingers over the inscription in the marble headstone. "Our Beloved Sylive," Priss read slowly, "Fly free. We will not forget you." She sat there a moment, considering the grave. A fresh bouquet lay beside her, waiting to take its place. "It was you," Priss whispered at last, "You wanted me to understand. To... to feel it all. Thank you, Sylvie... thank you." "Priss..." a voice inquired. Priss stood, running her hand one last time across the surface of the stone. She turned to face the speaker, a grin on her face and tears streaming from her eyes. "What's up, Sylia?" Priss asked, wiping saline from her eyes. "You weren't at home..." Sylia said slowly, "I just wanted to let you know we're meeting later. Sorry for intruding." With that, Sylia turned away. The blackness swirled back to reveal a trio of bikers pulling to a stop near the bay. They dismounted, then divided up a bag of hamburgers from a local fast food restaurant. One biker pulled off her helmet, letting her long dark hair blow in the wind. "This place is so beautiful," Sylia murmured, pulling off her own helmet. Priss nodded, removing hers last. Sylvie grinned, taking a bite from her burger as they all looked out at the sparkling water. "Ah well," Sylvie said as she finished off her meal, "I've got a practice to get to. You coming?" "Yeah!" Priss said, grabbing her helmet as she wolfed down the last two bites of her own sandwich. "I think I'll stay a bit..." Sylia murmured. "I. Am. Free. I'm free now." "Whatever," Sylvie said, giving Sylia an odd look, "Catch you later!" As two of the bikers sped off, the darkness once again fell upon the scene. "Sylia wait!" Priss cried, taking a half step forward. Sylia paused, turning back towards Priss. For a moment, Priss was at a complete loss for words. How could she explain...? Then, smiling slightly, she continued. "How would you feel about a burger?" "... alright," Sylia said, slightly confused. "Great!" Priss said, trotting to catch Sylia up. As they walked from the grave yard, Priss posed another question. "How long has it been since you rode a motorcycle, Sylia? Without a Hardsuit, I mean..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 1999 to Charles Drake