Well, not much is changed, but I figured I'd repost this now that
people are C&C-ing again.

     Of course, I got a new job, and have just put in 28 hours of work in
the last 2 days, so I don't know how much time I'll have to work on this
stuff. Also a problem is going to be helping spam-notify, but we'll see how
it goes. Oh, FYI, the vote is 7 for my notifying spammers, 6 for notification
with modifications, and 1 against. Again, for your vote, mail me.

W/o further ado (well, the final version will be formatted better, currently
I'm just copying from Ami Pro):

                            Starry Eyes
                a Bubblegum Crisis fic by Ben Kosse

	The sky screamed and flashed in anger as torrents of rain pelted the city
streets of Mega-Tokyo. He had been asleep for almost three hours before a
tremendous thunderclap exploded, seeming to shake the foundation of the
house in a successful attempt to wake Reed from his formerly restful sleep.
In his half asleep state, Reed looked like he was drunk while he fumbled
about for the light switch, wincing uncomfortably against the unwanted
brightness. His long, dark-blond hair was a ruffled mess, making him look at
least two inches taller than his 5'-10" would actually measured. Counting
the time between the next flash of lightning and corresponding thunderclap,
the still groggy man gauged that the storm was virtually overhead.
	"Well, I won't be sleeping for a while. I guess I'll listen to the radio."
Talking for the sake of hearing something other than thunder and rain, which
had been almost constant for the two hours before he went to sleep, his
still sleepy voice was the only sound that could be heard over the rain.
Another thunderclap echoed the storm's indifference to his actions and
plans. "Cable's probably out, too." He didn't know, and didn't care.
	Weakly, he ambled from the room and walked towards the antique radio. As
Reed slowly woke up, he became more cheerful, remembering the day's events,
each was passing through his head as walked towards the living room where
the radio was. He was in a secure and loving relationship with Priss
Asagiri, and had just had a wonderful time with her earlier that day. It
ended with him dashing, rather than happily strolling, to his car to escape
the rain. As usual, Priss left on her motorcycle, though he wasn't sure
where she was going. His drive home that night was interesting, the direct
result of some street punks kicking in his headlights. And even with the
difficulty driving, he had spent the drive home contemplating what it was
that made Priss decide to go out with him. He knew she was a Knight Sabre,
and that his knowing that could be her death. All Reed could figure was that
her reasons were the same feelings that made him kowtow to Priss' desires.
	He reached the radio, and turned it on, in incredibly good spirits until he
touched the radio's tuning knob. When his fingers touched the knob, he was
suddenly was infused with an enormous feeling of worry and danger. Reed
hoped for something interesting to be on the radio. As he rotated the tuning
knob he thought that maybe he loved Priss because of the excitement she
brought into his rather monotonous life. Reed was a computer programmer, and
computer programming, even though it paid all the bills and much more, was
not exactly filled with excitement. His hand continued turning the knob as
the local news crackled into existence. However, the static buildup from the
rain kept the station from coming in clearly. Everything coming from the
speakers was filled, and often overwhelmed with hissing and crackling.
	"... hidden live reporter has just...the Knight Sabres have destroyed a
secret, major...factory. However, a Knight Sabre in a dark blue
and...seriously wounded." Oh my God! It's Priss! Reed's mind was briefly
numbed from the shock. For ten minutes he just sat in the chair near the
radio. The crackling and hissing in the background continued unabated.
Dazed, he finally reached to the power switch. He pressed it in, slowly as
possible, not sure what he was hoping to hear, but knowing he didn't hear it
by the time the click of the power switch being fully depressed could be
heard. Equally slowly, Reed's finger retracted, and the radio finally hissed
one last time before the house was left, again, to the sound of rain and
thunder.
	Sitting on the chair, his hand aimlessly wandered to the phone near him,
and before he realized it, his hand was firmly holding the audio phone, set
on a decision to call Arlene.
	Arlene was a friend of Priss', and had just moved to Osaka. Priss was
currently staying there, helping Arlene move into her new house. Priss had
also convinced Arlene to extend the invitation to Sylia and Mackie, since
Sylia's penthouse was currently undergoing massive remodeling to comply with
a new city ordinance. Sylia had been reluctant to stay with Priss, but
conceded. Eventually.
	Reed heard the ringer of Arlene's phone. Come on, pick up the phone! Oh
God, please.
	"Uhgh. Yeah?" An older woman's voice answered Reed's silent prayers.
	"Arlene!..."
	"No!" The voice cut off Reed's statement before he could even begin to
explain. "I don't know where Priss is! Damnit, why do you have to call so late?"
	Arlene was unaware of Priss' mysterious second life and was careful about
choosing his words. "I just heard on the radio that someone resembling Priss
was seriously injured."
	"Oh." There was a brief pause before Arlene's voice resumed. This time she
was much less angry, if not relieved that Reed was concerned about Priss.
Arlene's past was full of people she thought were friends but wouldn't have
called to see if she was safe. "If she shows up, I'll call you."
	"Thank you, Thank you much." Reed's hand quietly brought the handset back
to the cradle. He didn't hear Arlene's jibe on the other end of the phone
while she was hanging up. While his was placing the phone back onto the
hook, he began thinking about the first time he met Priss. He was out in the
forests near Mega-Tokyo, training.
	A faint clicking was the only sound which would identify that the phone was
back on the cradle.
*****
	He was dressed in his gi and hakama. The man was sitting in a full lotus
position, concentrating on willing his body to remember the perfect katana
cuts he was making in his mind. While he was meditating, he was perfectly
still. The wind only occasionally disturbing his long dark blond hair which
normally ran down his white gi to the middle of his back.
	Eventually, he decided it was time to continue. He appeared to be perfectly
still even as he rose. He calmly took hold of his katana, and unsheathed it,
holding the six-hundred year old blade at a low position, the end of the
sword close to one foot above the ground.
	Somewhere behind him, a faint, but approaching, crashing sound broke the
stillness. The man waited patiently, mentally orienting the oncoming sound.
Approximately half a minute later, he sheathed his sword, and picked up his
pistol, which had been lying a safe ten feet from his practice area. Then,
he moved deeper into the forest, closer to the undefined sounds.
	As he saw some of the smaller trees being crushed through, he quickly
jumped off the straight course of falling trees. Seconds later, a C-55
Boomer flew by. Its massive blue form didn't turn from its path, but
powerfully shrugged off the impact of the trees it was crashing through.
Speed, not safety was its major concern, though it was carefully shielding a
black briefcase from any potential damage with it's bulky and strong arms.
	A smaller, white and black form burst from the cover it had taken and
followed the fleeing boomer. It wasn't hard to follow, since the path was
quite clear after the boomer's passage.
	A minute later, three plasma shots pinpointed the boomer. The man sprinted
ahead, curious. His blond hair danced happily in the air behind him while he
dashed down the makeshift trail. He slowed when he noticed a glint of blue
on the other side of a tree he was approaching. Pistol drawn, he advanced.
	Ahead, a woman in power armor was cursing to herself. Her sensors had
pinpointed the boomer in front of her, 15 yards distant, some foolish guy
only feet behind her, and a melee made out of boomers and her friends. Shit!
What a bad position to be in. The situation was compounded when a boomer
felled a tree behind her, clearing a shot at the tree she was using for cover.
	Fortune was with her, that day. The boomer in front of her charged out. Its
chest plates flexed and opened, revealing the massive heat ray weapon this
class of boomer was noted for. Just as it swung its arms back to fire, the
woman leveled her right arm at the boomer and fired two shots. The six-inch
spikes decapitated the robot, causing the yellowish-brown nutrient fluid to
spray from its neck as it wobbled about, not quite ready to die.
	Just as the boomer started to fall, the man behind her jumped forward,
pushing her onto the ground, and out of the path of a plasma blast. The tree
she was using for cover had a large hole through it and the path of the
plasma blast could be seen going through at least four trees beyond. She
rolled over and dropped to one knee, facing the man, her right arm leveled
at him. "Shit!" Her electronically filtered voice screamed through the
loudspeakers. "Who the hell are you?"
	Reed was concentrating on a good many things at that moment, not the least
being how much of a predicament he was in. "My name is Reed." Her voice was
strangely familiar, even through the distortion, and he hoped that she
wouldn't decide to shoot the railgun while he was only inches from the barrel.
	The pilot of the power armor snorted. She turned towards the boomer and
charged. The sunlight that broke through the trees glinted off her blue
hardsuit, accenting the purple breastplates and abdomen. Reed looked towards
the upcoming fight, absently thinking she was heading towards the first
boomer he encountered, mainly due to the briefcase it had. Before the blue
suit fired, another woman stepped from the trees. Her hardsuit was very pale
blue, so much so, that it could be considered a tint of white. A energy
sword of some time swung from her right arm, and sliced the blue monstrosity
in half. Then, she turned toward the man who was watching the fight, talking
to her companion over the communications channel. "Priss, who's that?"
	"I don't know. He pushed me away from the boomer's shot." Priss was trying
to figure out just how much of what the guy had done was stupidity and how
much was bravery. He would be destroyed from a single shot, and his old
pistol wouldn't do anything to a boomer.
	"See what he knows, then report back. We got what we came for."
	"Roger, Sylia." While Priss replied, Sylia, clad in her pale suit, turned
away, and walked back into the forest. Priss stood for a moment, then
approached the man who had saved her.
	As she was nearing, the boomer she had destroyed began shaking. Its
powerplant, being severely damaged from the explosion its head had made, was
nearing explosion itself. However, no one noticed this.
	"What the hell are you doing here?" Priss' question was spit out in a
manner that made it sound like she was ordering the answer out from him.
	No answer would be made quite yet, though, as the boomer's powerplant
finally gave up the struggle to stay as one piece. C-55 boomer parts were
rocketed through the air. A piece of the boomer's arm, including the blades
which snapped out when the boomer invoked its jets, crashed into the side of
Priss' helmet, neatly carving out her faceplate, and destroying the
loudspeaker. "Oh, shit!" She spun around with the impact and came to rest
aganst the same tree she had been hiding behind.
	A small thunderbolt went through Reed as he realized what made the voice so
familiar. He was standing face to face with his favorite rock star.
"Priss... You're a Knight Sabre?"
	"Yeah, I am. I suppose you're expecting some sort of payment for keeping
quiet now and for pushing me away from the boomer's shot, right?"
	"Well, no. Not really. I was standing behind the tree, and didn't want to
get hit. Call it instinct, but I didn't think you wanted to be hit, either."
	Priss' reply was a quite unfriendly snort.
	"And I don't expect any reward for that, or as 'bribery' to shut up. You
could easily get away with shooting me here and make it look like the
boomer's explosion killed me. I'm going to be quite happy to get out of here."
	"You better be. What the hell were you thinking charging in here? Damned AD
Police have better protection than you, and they get blown to bits facing
off these things." Reed only grimaced. She was right, and he knew it. 
	"I. I was, uh, I was practicing katana forms back there, when that boomer,"
he finally stammered out, pointing to the boomer who had been holding the
suitcase, "flew by me. I decided to follow it, it was stupid, I know."
	"And just what the hell should I do about you knowing I'm a Knight Sabre?"
	"Let me go?" Reed ventured, trying to make light of the situation. "I give
you my word that I won't tell anyone."
	"You think that's good enough for me, not to mention the rest of the Knight
Sabres?"
	"What can I give you so that you'll believe me?"
	"Name, GID Number, address."
	"Reed Sterling, 592-688-3099-55. I live at 2990 River, in Mega-Tokyo.
Anything else?"
	"Get the hell out of here before I think of something."
	Priss walked off. Damn, now I'm gonna have to buy a new helmet for this
suit. I guess it's time for some more concerts.
	Reed just stood still for a few minutes. He'd had quite enough excitement
for a long time. He eventually walked away, mindlessly kicking a rock along
in front of him. "Damn, I should've asked for her autograph," he said,
muttering half-jokingly to himself. "I'll probably never see her like that
again." He turned towards the boomer which was now sputtering flames. He
couldn't see his rock anymore, so he just kicked something else along to
pass the time as he headed home, thinking it was a part of the boomer. It
wasn't too long before he picked it up, and realized that it was a shard off
of Priss' faceplate. Reed curled his hand around it. "Hmm. A souvenir to
commemorate the day I met Priss, the Knight Sabre and singer extrordinaire."
*****
	The cry of an old, audio telephone awakened Reed from his flashback. His
hand leapt to the phone while he hoped to hear Priss badgering him for
worrying, or Arlene telling him everything was fine. "Yeah?"
	"It's Nene. Priss is really hurt." Nene's innocent voice was obviously
trying to hold back tears. "We're.... We're taking her to Arlene's." Reed
could here the young woman's sniffle. Her next words were tinged with both
anger and relief. "Where were you? I've been calling for almost two hours!"
 	"I guess I was daydreaming, or something.... Two hours.... I'm on my way.
Tell Priss for me, OK?"
	In the background, Reed could hear Priss groan through her words.
"Sylia.... She's, she's gonna kill you, ya know." He really hoped Priss was
joking.
	"I guess we'll find out in a few hours."
	"Reed, be careful. I don't want Priss living only to hear that you died
driving here." Nene chimed in before hearing Reed's grunt of acknowledgment.
She hadn't disconnected when Reed's phone crashed back onto the cradle, but
when Priss groaned, clearly in pain, Nene was glad that no one was on the
other end.
	Inside his house, Reed was a whirlwind of motion as he grabbed his coat,
and put on some clothes before running to his double-wide garage and opening
the automatic door. Unfortunately, in his hurry, he had momentarily
forgotten that his Porsche had two broken headlights. That realization hit
him hard when the automatic garage door turned on the lights.
	"Oh well. Not much choice, and the highway patrol can just try and stop
me." Seconds later, the engine growled in anticipation while the parking
lights made a somewhat futile attempt to pierce through the darkness and
rain. Driving would be, at the least, very interesting, he thought, before
taking the silver car out of the garage and guiding it down the street.
	Fortune, however, had decided to smile on him. Either the Highway Patrol
had decided to take the night off, or none of the officers wanted to try to
stop him. There was little they could do to catch him from behind, as the
Porsche he owned had a rebuilt engine which pushed somewhere around 600hp, a
marked improvement from the standard Porsche 959 engine which used to take
this car to over 250kph. He easily took the speed demon to over 300kph on
more than one occasion, but only after the rain had ceased, nearly 150
kilometers outside of Mega-Tokyo.

	Three hours later, a silver car plowed up the drive leading to Arlene's
house. A teenaged boy was watching from the side, and as the car turned onto
the dirt driveway, he called flipped on a communicator. "Linna, someone just
took a silver Porsche up the driveway. All I could see was that he needs new
headlights. I couldn't catch anything else."
	"Thank God, Reed made it."
	"What?!?!?" Linna cut Mackie's exclamation short by turning off the radio,
leaving him stunned for nearly five minutes until he turned back towards the
road.
	Meanwhile, the Porsche muscled its way into the yard, moving at least
120kph as it rounded the last corner before spinning sideways and plowing
ahead with the passenger side of the car. The engine quieted to a nice purr
when the car was placed into neutral, though the wheels loudly protested the
application of the emergency brakes. It was a great testament to the car's
design, with its low center of gravity, that the silver machine only gently
lifted the two driver's side wheels off the ground before deciding to slide
forward on the ground. Reed, however, took the opportunity to jump out of
the car, ignoring the fact that the car was still moving at least 40kph.
	Twenty feet away from the silver bolt, a large, orange van, marked Silky
Doll, was parked. Three feminine forms could be seen exiting the van, one of
which was being supported completely by the other two. All three were
dressed in power armor of some type, though the woman in the blue suit was
obviously seriously wounded.
	"Oh man. Oh, God, please." Reed's words to himself slower than his reflex
action to run over and see what happened. "PRISS!"
	The two others harsduits, one a slightly bluish purple with pink legs, the
other an olive green with reddish trim, stepped to the side. The blue and
pink hardsuit spoke first. "Reed!" 
	Hearing the words, the wounded woman looked up. Her stomach had a four inch
by four inch triangular shaped cut, her hardsuit curled up into the gash,
providing enough pressure that she hadn't fainted from loss of blood. The
armor had been punctured by something very heavy and sharp. She was
obviously in pain. "Don't worry, I'll be fine." Everyone doubted her
sincerity when she was unable to remove her left arm from the support the
wing-like attachment on the other pink-legged suit was providing.
	Reed couldn't contain himself, and brought his arms under Priss', holding
on to her. "Don't die on me, girl."
	"I've had worse," she half-joked. She knew she was lucky to be alive, and
so did everyone else. They all knew she hadn't had worse and that this time,
because of her hardsuit, she couldn't get proper medical attention in the
most crucial time.
	But Priss did have some chance. Arlene was a certified surgeon. When Sylia
had reached the Sikly Doll van, she dialed Arlene and informed Arlene of the
situation, offering to cover anything necessary to perform an imprompteau,
one-person operation on Priss. Arlene had procured some supplies from Osaka
General Hospital and called in her maid to clean the basement completely.
	The two girls carefully supported Priss as she was taken inside. Reed
didn't follow, deciding it wouldn't do to have to talk to Sylia at this
moment. He'd heard enough of her to know that the talk wouldn't be pleasant.
Instead, he sat in his car and thought back to his first date with Priss.
*****
	Her concert had just ended, and Priss wasn't exactly happy. For some stupid
reason, the manager of Hot Legs decided she wasn't going to work there
again. So what that she was twenty minutes late. The crowd didn't mind, but
he seemed more pissed off than usual. "What the hell doesn't he like about
me!" Priss' voice cut through the background noise while she threw her blond
wig into the dresser, followed by her halter top, shoulder length gloves,
costume jewelry, and tight, black mini-skirt. She quickly replaced them with
her red biker's leathers and grabbed her helmet as she stormed out of the
dressing room.
	She pushed her way through the forming crowd and managed to reach the back
door, violently throwing it open.
	"Hey, treat the damn door with some respect!"
	"Screw you!" Priss didn't give a damn what the manager thought. She was out
the door and walking towards her bike, venting some of her anger into the
cool night air. Her mood was much improved when she heard her bike's engine
growl happily.
	Three blocks away, Reed was walking towards his car. While he walked, he
reminded himself, for what seemed to be the millionth time, to park closer
to show. His thoughts were sidetracked by the image of Priss on stage. Every
time he saw her, Reed thought back to his close encounter in the forest, and
tried to think of some way he would've managed to come across not sounding
quite as stupid as he did. "No matter what I said back there, I would be
thinking I sounded stupid." Reed used his voice to chastize himself into a
chuckle.
	"Hey punk! Watcha say?" A deep but nasaly voice cut from the alley beside
Reed, who decided his best course lay in just walking onward. When it became
apparent Reed wasn't talking, the voice continued "I'm talking to you asshole."
	Reed  reversed his previous plans to ignore the voice. As he slowly turned
around and brought up his arms into an aikido fighting stance, he saw a dark
shape moving out of the alley. "Yes." Reed's voice was a monotone,
emotionless reply.
	"What did you say? Something about sounding stupid. Whatcha' say?"
	"I said that I would think I sounded stupid no matter what I said." As Reed
was replying, the dark form finally took some noticible shape. The man was
dressed in black biker's leathers and had black hair which was in a row of
fifteen cenimeter long spikes. He had a knife tucked into his belt, and
small spikes across the shoulders of his leather jacket.
	"Yeah. Whatever. Loose your bitch or something? You're gonna loose even
more. You see, we own this block, and if you wanta walk here, you gotta pay
the toll."
	"She wasn't a bitch, and I can't give you what I don't have. You see, I
just spent my last yen on her concert." Reed's voice hadn't gained any
emotion whatsoever.
	"Oh. Poor little shit sounded stupid in front of Priss, huh? Don't worry,
she'd never have you." A sneer crossed the thug's face. "I guess, dipshit,
I'll have to take out my payment from your hide."
	"Whatever. Just please hurry, I'd like to get home soon."
	"Cocky bastard." His knife came out, and he dove towards the unarmed man.
Reed waited, and then lashed out. He caught the thug's wrist and spun it
outward, causing the thug to drop to the ground in pain, while the knife hit
the ground. Reed kicked it down the sidewalk and, in the same motion,
twisted the thug's arm around, rolling him onto his back and proceeding to
corkscrew the thug's arm painfully. Reed's assailant groaned in pain.
	"Leave me alone."
	"Fuck you." Reed answered this reply by twisting the thugs arm farther,
painfully stretching ligaments and tendons. "Get him! Argh!" Five large
people walked out of the alley. They were dressed in similar attire to the
first assailant, though they were missing the leather jacket.
	The largest took the time to introduce their leader and crack his knuckles.
"Fucker, we don't like it when people mess with Slash."
	The attempt at intimidation was lost on Reed, who replied in another
emotionless voice. "Listen, it wouldn't take much to dislocate Slash's arm.
I can do that very easily. Just let me go, and he'll be much happier."
	The oncoming street punks obviously didn't believe him, because they just
walked closer. Reed twisted sideways, a noticible pop came from Slash's
shoulder. Slash began to scream in pain as Reed rolled over him to face the
small gang.
	Priss saw something happening on the sidewalk, then heard an agonizing
scream coming from someone. Just some punks fighting, she thought. When she
came to a stop a block away, she saw five men walk out of an alleyway
towards a solitary figure. Idiot bought of more than he can chew.
	She came closer, as quickly as the slow traffic allowed. She saw that the
solitary figure was the man who had saved her just a few days ago. She
snorted, then noticed that one of them resembled the manager of Hot Legs and
her anger returned with a vengence. "This will be fun." She gunned her bike,
and drove along the barren sidewalk, straight towards the large group with a
sparkle of glee in her reddish eyes.
	While Slash struggled to his feet and back to his friends, the largest of
the thugs heard a motorcycle driving up the sidewalk directly their mob. The
large thug pushed Slash towards Reed while jumping against the wall to dodge
the motorcycle. "Bitch, I'm gonna kill you for that!"
	"What the hell? Priss?" Reed was stunned so much so that he nearly forgot
to deflect Slash's haphazard oncoming punch, and countering with a viscious
clothsline. As Slash crumpled to the ground, Priss brought her bike to a
stop and ran over to the brawl. "What are you doing here?"
	"I'm returning the favor," she grumbled as she kicked the thug who reminded
her of the manager of Hot Legs. He grabbed his stomach in pain and collapsed
against the wall.
	Reed chuckled inwardly and launched into a series of low kicks and punches
which backed a thug with a pink shirt into the wall. Then, he dropped to the
ground, and scissored the man's legs out from under him before moving on top
of his prone body and ramming his knee into the man's groin, removing him
from the fight.
	Priss brought her foot into the groin of another attacker. He felt an
intense pain and his vision became cloudy and black. She put him out of his
misery by kicking him in the face, knocking him cold.
	Before she could turn around, the largest thug grabbed her from behind,
capturing her arms at her sides, and began to squeeze. "Pretty Priss. Looks
like I get to have some fun after all."
	"Let me go, bastard." Priss' curse only made him squeeze harder, his hands
digging into her abdomen, taking the wind from her. The strain could be seen
on her face as she tried, unsuccessfully, to bring her feet into a place to
hurt him.
	After Reed dropped his second thug, he had skirted around to deal with the
one who had drawn a wicked looking knife with a blade protruding from both
ends of the hilt. He wanted to go deal with the asshole trying to squeeze
Priss into two parts, but the man with the knife prevented him from doing
anything other than talking. "Priss, relax everything and swing your arms up
like they were wings. While you do that, turn your head sideways, and
imagine you weigh as much as your bike does."
	Priss' attacker lifted her higher, thinking it to be a brilliant stratagy
to prevent her from slipping out. Unfortunately, his actions did nothing to
prevent Priss from sliding from his grasp. Her elbow contacted multiple
times with his groin, stomach, then head.
	Heedless of the danger, she ran over to the knife-wielder and grabbed him
from behind. He tried to spin around, but got kicked by Reed instead. Priss
manhandled him over her hips and threw him into his largest friend.
	"Damn, Priss, you're good. Could I possibly get a ride to my car, or maybe
even take you to dinner? I know this sounds like a stupid time to ask to
take you to dinner, but you've got to be hungry after being on stage for two
hours." He was noticibly nervous, the first time he showed emotion since
answering Slash's questions.
	"No way." She turned towards her bike. "No dinner, but I'll give you a ride
to your car."
	"A drink, then?" Reed joked then started towards Priss' bike, which was
laying about five meters distant.
	"You're even worse than Leon."
	"Heh. I don't know this Leon, but I know that some guys have no talent
around beautiful women. I'm one of those guys, and you, most definately,
qualify as a beautiful woman." Reed groaned at his stupid comment.
	"Fine. A drink, then I'm taking you to your car and that's it."
	"Deal," Reed replied while stepping up to Priss' bike. "Where do you want me?"
	Out of habit, she had sat near the back of the seat, and so she had to
slide forward before motioning to Reed. "Sit there, and hold on. But I'm
warning you, you drop your hands, I'll kill you."
	He hopped onto the red bike and reached around Priss' stomach, very careful
to keep his hands equidistant from any incriminating locations on her
beautiful figure. "I'll keep my hands right there." Priss grunted
affermation while she gunned the motor a few times before heading off the
sidewalk onto the rapidly clearing city streets.
	Reed couldn't believe his luck, or completely assure himself that he wasn't
dreaming.
	His mind was still in the clouds when Priss pulled to a stop ten minutes
later on the street by a small coffee shop. She killed the motorcycle, and
Reed dismounted. Priss swung her leg off the bike and walked toward the
door, oblivious to Reed's presence while she removed her helmet and gloves.
He was forced to hurry to catch up, and arrived at the booth just behind her.
	"Well, Priss, it's my treat, so pick whatever you want."
	The waitress arrived, just in time to keep Priss from making a snide
comment at Reed. "What can I get for you this evening?" The waitresses
chipper voice almost squeaked.
--
Ben Kosse bmk7411@cs.rit.edu
BGC Otaku and worshipper of the Red-Eyed Goddess. Member of ShAS.
Anime, RPG's, computers, poetry (read/write), music (listen/compose).
Author of the Bubblegum Crisis theme pack (see the homepage below).
Homepage with anime and other interests. (http://www.rit.edu/~bmk7411)