Apotheosis:

			      A New Story Of

			     Bubblegum Crisis

Chapter Two

	On the top floor of the Tokyo Tower, the air rippled.

	For a single second, dark lightning flashed across a circle
roughly six feet in diameter ... and then resolved into a solid,
matte-black disc.

	Aethan stepped through, and with a gesture closed the gate.  He
turned to look around at the imitation Eiffel Tower, and wondered anew
that any time he opened a gate to Tokyo, he wound up here.  An incredible
coincidence, that.

	Well, enough woolgathering.  It was early morning, so the Tower
was fortunately deserted.  Aethan crouched, and prepared a seeking magick
that would find him the residence of Nene Romanova.

	It would take a few hours, though.

	From his crouch, his eyes were drawn unwaveringly to the distant
Genom corporate tower, which dwarfed the Tokyo tower like it did all other
buildings in the city.  <Now where have I seen a shape like that before?
Ah yes.  Mexico.  Egypt.  Sumer.  Also San Diego, 1982.  In a movie
theatre.  Hmph.  If the blasted idiots *have* to use a symbol of eternity,
couldn't they have found one that hadn't already been used as the symbol
of the evil, bloodsucking corporation?  Twice, that I know of?>

				*   *   *

	Nene tried very hard not to think about the encounter she'd had
with the mysterious woman on the bus as she went to work.  For the most
part, it was easy.  She had a lot of things to do, and not a lot of time
to do them in.

	It wasn't until her first coffee break that she had to give it
some thought.

	Maybe she'd recognized her from one of the recruiting commercials
that Nene had been tapped to do not long after she signed on with the AD
Police.  But ... no, she was quite sure that none of them had ever
mentioned her name.  And Nene had been fairly careful to keep her name
and face out of the newspaper.

	So HOW?

	Suddenly, the word "junior high school" broke through her
concentration.  She focused on the television.

	"... Genom officials are refusing to comment on how they were able
to completely disassemble the interior structure of the condemned
building, which was scheduled to be demolished later today, without any
apparent effort.  No one was hurt when the building collapsed, but ..."

	The school that they were describing was the one in front of which
the bus had dropped that woman.

	Nene stared at the TV for a long moment.

				*   *   *

	<Of course, 'tis unlikely that any of the children of this
blighted age have ever even heard of a `blade runner'.  Or of a `shadow
runner', either ... how much were those architects of science fiction
imagining the future, and how much were they *creating* it for us?>

				*   *   *

	Nene sat on the toilet, and engaged in an intense internal
dialogue.

	<What if she's some kind of ... don't think it.>

	<But ... what if she's another kind of ... Largo?>

	<What if she IS Largo?>

	<No, that's crazy.  Nobody could survive a fall like that.>

	<On the other hand, nobody could survive an orbital laser strike,
either.  And they never found a body ...>

	<But why would Largo come back as a woman?>

	<It makes no sense!  Thus, it cannot be true.  Thus, she must have
had nothing to do with the building falling apart like that.>

	<Now if I could just bring myself to believe it.>

				*   *   *

	<For that matter, none of the civilizations by the pyramid were
exactly `sweetness and light' either (though I suppose I'm one to talk)
.. do they perform blood sacrifices on top of that tower?  Or just use it
as the mausoleum of a dead king and his slaves?>

				*   *   *

	Brrng.

	"Silky Doll Lingerie, how may I help you?"

	"Scam thing."

	Click.  Click.

	"Scrambler on.  Nene, what is it?"

	"Um ... did you see that news report about the school in ..."

	"Jyuban?  Yes, Nene, what about it?"

	"Well ..." And Nene blurted out the whole story to Sylia, leaving
out only her suspicions about the woman being Largo.

	There was a long silence on the other end of the phone.  "Nene, I
think you're a little overworked, aren't you?"

	"Uh ..."

				*   *   *

	<And the pyramid was on the seal of the United States of America,
probably due to the Masonic connections of Washington, Jefferson, and the 
others. How I laughed when I read all those conspiracy theories about the
Masons ... so far from the truth ... it's been so long since I laughed
like that ... Found her.>

				*   *   *

	Nene slumped into her beanbag chair.  Her day after her phone call
to Sylia hadn't been much better than what had gone before it.  It had,
she supposed, been a very good thing that Genom was still reeling from the
Largo affair, and thus unable to try anything serious that would require
AD Police attention -- because that would've been hell on Nene's already
fragile nerves.  She envisioned herself being dragged away in a stretcher,
restrained for her own protection, with a deranged look on her face ...

	The rain that had begun around two as a light drizzle was now a
full-fledged storm.  <Konya wa hurricane,> Nene thought with a small
smile.  It faded quickly.  <Nobody takes me seriously.  Weird,
inexplicable stuff is going on, and nobody takes me seriously when I try
and warn them.  Heck with 'em.>  She decided to read Cyberprep again.

	When she lifted it into view, she noticed the subscription label
with "Romanova Nene" on the front bottom left corner.

	She stared at it for a while, and then burst into nearly
hysterical laughter.  <Of course!  Gah, what a fool I am!  What a ... of
COURSE she knew my name, she read it!  I'd better never let Priss and
Linna find out about this, or I'll never hear the end of it ...>

	There was a knocking at the door.  Still giggling, Nene headed to
look through the peephole.

	The man on the other side was only a little taller than Nene
herself, with brownish-blond hair, extremely pale skin, and very bright,
shimmering green eyes.  He was wearing a tightly belted brown trenchcoat.

	And he looked directly through the peephole at Nene.

	But that was impossible, the peephole was one-way.

	"Uh, who is it?" she asked, trying to sound calm.

	"Nene Romanova?" he said, in a British accented voice.

	"Uh ... who wants to know?"

	"My name is Aethan.  I have come to teach you."

				*   *   *

	There was a long silence after Aethan made the announcement.

	"Teach me what?"

	She was frightened.  Aethan could tell that by the tenor of her
voice, by the faint sound of her heart beat.  "I have been sent to give
you an edge," he said.  That was how the Society usually made the offer to
prospective agents -- in this day, everyone was constantly seeking some
sort of advantage over a competitor ... not that that was any different
from any other time.

	"An edge?  I don't ..."

	"Expect the unexpected."

	The motto of the agents of the Society; when one encountered magic
and other strangeness daily, it was a watchword, and thus a primary means
of recognition.

	There was another long silence.

	The seven locks and other restraining mechanisms that held the
door shut were released, one by one, slowly.

	The door opened a crack, and Aethan caught his first glimpse of
Nene Romanova.

	It was as the voice had said.  She was almost frighteningly like
unto her grandmother -- they had both been fairly short (though only a
half foot beneath Aethan's five feet, nine inches), with bright red hair
and aquamarine eyes -- that it almost made Aethan's heart start beating.
Innocence, hope, and decency were in those eyes ... and there was steel
there, too.  A little, at least.

	<She's afraid>, he noted.  <Why?>

	"May I come in?"

	Her mouth worked silently for a few moments, and then she
stammered, "Uh ... y-yes!  C-come on in!"

	He stepped across the threshold, and took in the room with a
glance.  Rather spartan, with most of the money going into a fairly
sophisticated computer set up.  Neat and reasonably tidy.

	Aethan turned to look back at the girl.  "So.  Where shall we
begin?"

	"Well ... maybe you could tell me, who exactly sent you?"

	"This wasn't made clear already?" he asked, a bit surprised.

	"Uh ... no."

	"Very well.  Sometime recently, you had a meeting -- a seemingly
coincidental meeting -- with a woman, who knew things about you that she
couldn't possibly have known, correct?"

	She blinked.  "No."

	Aethan frowned.  "What do you mean, no?"

	"I mean ... yeah, there was this woman who talked with me on the
bus, and she knew my name without having to be told it, but there's a
rational reason for that."

	"There is?"

	She handed him a magazine.  He stared at the subscription label.
"So.  Did she call you by your full name, Ms. Nene Romanova?" he asked,
stressing all the wrong syllables.

	"Uh, that's ..."

	"Exactly.  She pronounced it correctly, the first time, didn't
she?  Have you ever tried to guess the pronunciation of a name from a
spelling?  Or vice versa?  Guess how my name is spelled.

	She seemed to give it a bit of thought.  "A E T H A N ... I 
think?" she said, looking hopeful.

	Startled, but not letting it show, he continued.  "In any event,
they have probably been monitoring you for a while now.  They do that for
those they wish to employ as agents."

	The girl was beginning to look very scared.  "You mean ... I've
been tapped for recruitment by ..."

	"Yes."

	"... a secret society of computer crackers?"

	Aethan blinked.  "What?"

	"Well, she was talking about how crackers who get a datajack
implanted were taking too much of a risk ... have you come to teach me
some kind of special techniques for getting inside hostile systems.

	He stared at her blankly.  "Child, I've not the faintest idea what
you're talking about.  I haven't come to teach you how to use a computer.
I've come to teach you magic."

	He was completely unprepared for how she began to laugh at that
point.

				*   *   *

	"What on Earth is so amusing?"

	Nene couldn't help herself.  It was just too silly for words.

	"Hello?  I'd like an answer, please."

	"Ma ... ma ... magic?" she gasped.  "There's no such thing as
magic."

	He stared at her in a rather bewhildered manner.  Then he said
some words in a Latin-sounding language, made a series of passes with his
hand, and revealed a small, yellowish flame in his palm.  "Convinced?"

	"Not really, no," Nene said, her hilarity fading to simple
amusement.  "Anyone with a lighter implanted in their arm could do the
same."

	"What *will* it take to convince you?"

	Nene looked away, feeling another attack of giggles coming on.
She looked out the window.  Still raining.  "If you can do magic, do
something about the weather."

	He walked over to the rain-streaked window.  "And this will
convince you that magic exists?"

	"Sure," Nene said, really enjoying this.

	He bowed his head.  "So be it," he whispered.

	He began to speak.  The language was not Latin-flavored, but
sounded vaguely like the Celtic songs, popular in the last decades of the
twentieth century, that Nene's mother had loved.  He was chanting
something that she couldn't make out.

	The clouds began to swirl.

	He raised his left hand, and began to make gestures that pushed
away from him.  Then his right, moving in a different plane.

	The clouds began to move apart.

	His chanting was growing even more fervent now.

	The clouds were circling away from a central spot.

	The gestures became more forceful, but never frenzied, always with
absolute control.

	Above the spot, there was nothing but blue.

	The chanting rose to a high note, which he held for nearly thirty
seconds.  The gestures froze in place.

	Some distance from the apartment building, a perfect circle of
blue sky, perhaps a hundred yards across, seemed to be holding back storm
clouds that were even darker than they had been before.  In the section of
city beneath the circle, Nene could see buildings reflecting sunlight.

	The note stopped, and the hands returned to his sides.  The circle
swiftly began to collapse.

	He turned back to Nene, with eyes that seemed to be glowing even
more brightly.

	"Now do you believe in magic?"

	A sudden explosion of thunder stole whatever reply Nene might have
made.

				*   *   *

	After a while, the girl could talk again.  "D-do I believe in
magic?  God!  After that, everybody in town'll be ..."

	Aethan quietly shook his head.  "No.  Various groups that have a
vested interest in people *not* believing in magic will come up with
rational explanations for what just happened.  I think you can guess one
of them."

	"Genom ..." she whispered.

	He nodded.  "Most likely, they'll leak some sort of report about
an attempt at weather control technology that didn't work very well, and
probably won't be attempted again for another few years."

	She sat down, shakily, onto her couch.  "How ... how did you ..."

	"I was taught the techniques that I used to perform that ...
feat ... by a man named Owain Glyn Dwr, nearly six hundred years ago."

	"Six HUNDRED?  How old are you?  How ..."

	"I am nearly ... no, I am a few years *past* my fifteen hundredth
winter."

	She stared at him.  "You aren't human, are you?"

	He sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  "That depends on
one's definition of human.  In any event, Nene Romanova, I mean you no
harm.  I will, if you will permit me, instruct you in these arts of magic,
for which the people who have summoned me believe that you posess the
gift."

				*   *   *

	It was all too much for her:  an immortal sorcerer, offering her
the chance to be able to do as he had; the prospect of living forever; the
burden of secrecy that would entail ...

	"I ... I don't know ..."

	He nodded, as if unsuprised by her answer.  "I shall give you time
to consider it, Nene.  Tomorrow is, I believe, Saturday?  I shall return
tomorrow, around noon, to continue our discussion, and if you have decided
to not accept the training, simply refuse to let me enter your home.  I
cannot enter without your consent."

	He began to walk to the door; then paused and turned back.  "Would
you be willing to satisfy my curiosity?  The woman who spoke to you --
could you describe her?"

	Nene racked her brain.  "Well ... she was blonde.  Very beautiful.
And she gave me this ... V sign as she left."  She demonstrated.

	He nodded.  "I thought as much.  I shall return tomorrow,
Nene-san.  Sleep well."

	He opened the door, and stepped out, before Nene remembered the
most distinctive feature about the woman who had spoken to her -- that
strange hairstyle.

	And then he was gone.

				*   *   *

	<Of course, it would be Minako,> Aethan thought as he slumped
against the wall outside the door.  <Who else would be so foolish as to
leave her without any knowledge of what she was getting into?>

	He smiled affectionately.  "Minako no baka," he whispered.

	He was exhausted from the spell.  It would probably have killed a
mortal to do something of that scale ... in him, it simply left him with a
gnawing hunger.

	<Time to feed.>

	He had not had to feed on the mountain.  He had worked out the
details of a spell to subsist on pure magical energy, such as could be
found in the "well" of power in his cave.

	But he was no longer on the mountain.

	He would have to hunt.

				*   *   *

	In a darkened office, the only light came from a desktop computer.

	"Produce a list of those beings known to be able to produce the
paranormal phenomena observed this afternoon, that are active and known to
be residing in this reality."

	A single file appeared on the screen.

	Aethan DeGales, known among the councils of the wise (q.v.) as the
Grey.  Power level:  Grand master equivalent.

	"Very interesting," said Madigan.

			    To Be Continued.


Authors Notes

	The characters and world of Bubblegum Crisis were created by
Kenichi Sonoda, Toshimichi Suzuki, and others, and brought to North 
America by AnimEigo.  The woman on the bus was created by Naoko Takeuchi 
and brought to North America by DIC.  Aethan DeGales was created by Chris 
Davies.  The preceding story, while incorporating aspects of motion 
pictures held under copyright by others, is copyright 1996 by Chris Davies.

	Nobody Sue Me Okay?

Chris Davies, Advocate for Darkness, Part-Time Champion of Light.
"I am not a very nice person anymore." - Rand al'Thor, "Crown of Swords"
http://www.ualberta.ca/~cdavies/hmpage.html