Due to some interesting C&C, I've noticed a couple of problems.  This 
hopefully solves them.

Nightelf (nwl9354@tam2000.tamu.edu) presents...

The Circe Project

part 7

A work of anime fanfiction by Nicholas Leifker, aka "Nightelf"

Ranma 1/2 Characters created by Rumiko Takahashi.  Bubblegum Crisis 
characters created by Kenichi Sonoda.  All other characters created by 
me.  I must ask that you not do anything with this work or any part 
without the author's permission.

"Anybody Listening" lyrics and music by Chris DeGarmo and Geoff Tate of 
Queensryche.

Well, here we go...

*****************************************************************************

     Sobs could be heard from the inner sanctum.

     Sylia Stingray stared at the computer monitors from red, puffy eyes, 
dark thoughts flying through her head.  Ever since the last Jusenkyo raid - 
indeed, ever since the first Jusenkyo raid - she had feared this perhaps 
more than anything else.  The list on the screen seemed innocuous enough, 
just a few people of medium importance here and there...with two things 
in common with all of them.  All were antagonists of Genom at some point, 
and all were now...

     The young woman's thoughts turned back to Fargo, her 'fixer' and
friend.  What Genom had done to him was obscene, sadism on a level that
made the curses themselves, the basis of Genom's new toy, seem innocent
and childish.  And now...now Fargo wasn't the only one.  

     She had sworn an oath to herself on his death - a personal oath,
powerful and unbreakable, that there would be no more victims of this
madness.  There was nobody else capable of stopping them, nobody who could
recognize the signs, nobody who had the will and the desire to stand up to
the Tower.  The Knight Sabers were the only ones who could fight them, 
and even then it would be an uphill battle.     

     The scientist dried her eyes, closed the list, and opened up another,
more familiar file.  The Circe Project.

****************************************************************************

     MegaTokyo always seemed to come alive at Christmastime.  Ol' Scrooge 
Genom got into the spirit of things by lighting huge multicolored lights 
along its outside, creating the impression of a kilometer-high steel 
Christmas tree.  The shops and stores erected beautifully detailed 
decorations in their windows, hoping to attract well-paying and generous 
customers into their establishments.  Even the destitute sections of town 
seemed to get into the act, calling a partial truce to the violence and 
setting out a few lights here and there...pathetic-looking, but 
appreciated nonetheless.  It was, as always, a time of renewal, a time to 
reflect on the past and hope for the future.

     Linna walked through the city streets, taking a familiar comfort in 
the sights, her thoughts lost in the past and future.  As a child, she had 
stared at the lights and took joy in the beauty...they seemed a little
colder now.  She had changed so much, mentally and physically, since those 
innocent days, and now mourned the loss.  A small squeeze on her hand
shook her back to herself - and her date.

     "Linna...Earth to Linna..."

     Hiroshi.  Linna stopped, then stared at his dark eyes, his soft, 
expressive face...this was their fifth date.  She had been lucky so far - 
no rain, no spilled drinks - but, one day, he would find out.  What then?

     "Sorry, Hiroshi.  I was...thinking."

     He smiled...she loved that innocent smile.  "About what?"

     She turned away for a moment.  "I..."  Linna broke the handhold and 
held herself, chilled more by her thoughts than the weather.  Naturally, 
he wrapped his arms around her.

     "It's okay.  I'm here..."

     His words, spoken with such sincerity, cut deep at the lies of her 
life.  Linna turned around, fueled by the pain within her.  "Hiroshi, 
I...I love you."  The young man gasped at the surprise confession.

     "That's why...why you have to know."

     Worry flashed in his eyes.  "Know what?"

     She grabbed his hand tightly, leading him on.  "We'll talk about it 
in private."

     Linna's apartment was an excellent reflection of its main resident: 
Several styles coexisting alongside each other in a quiet, yet somehow
beautiful conflict.  Linna sat her boyfriend down, offered a drink, and
placed her hands over his.

     "Hiroshi...there are many things about my life that I haven't told 
you yet.  I don't just work at the aerobics club.  I've also done...what 
could be called 'mercenery work'".

     Hiroshi's eyes widened in surprise.  "You mean...you're a prostitute?" 

     "No...(giggle)...nothing like that.  I mean 'mercenery work' as in 
bodyguard duty or high-risk security."

     "Oh."  Linna smiled as her man turned a nice shade of crimson.

     She let out a long sigh.  This wasn't going to be easy...then again, 
it never is.  "Earlier this year, on one of these...jobs, I fell victim 
to a Genom experiment."

     Hiroshi sat there, numb, thinking the worst.  "H...how long, linna?"

     "It's not fatal.  Part of me wishes it was."  She stood up and led 
him to the bathroom, where she started to take off her clothes.

     "Be patient, Hiroshi.  Please.  What you are about to see no man or 
woman should ever have to see, let alone experience."  She took off the 
last bit, and stepped into the shower.  She placed one hand on the cold 
water handle.

     "In China, there are these...cursed springs.  Falling in one curses 
the victim with the body of whatever - or whoever - drowned there.  From 
now on, cold water...changes me.  Hot water returns me to my true and 
original self."

     "Huh?"

     "I guess what I'm trying to say is...can you love me, even if I 
occasionally look..." She turned the handle, triggering the change, 
"...like this?"

     Hiroshi stood in total shock for a moment as his mind tried to 
digest Linna's change to male form (and her subsesquent return to 
womanhood).  She walked toward him, and grasped his hands fiercely.

     "Please, Hiroshi...I love you..."

     "Linna."  Hiroshi found enough of his voice to respond.  "I...I 
dunno, I...can I think about it for a few days?"

     "Su-sure."  Linna nodded, her heart shattering.  She stood there, 
unmoving, as Hiroshi made his exit.  She waited until she heard the door 
slam, then broke down uncontrollably, her tears not letting up until her 
beau was long since gone.

*****************************************************************************  
     
     Raven's Garage was the site of a most unusual sight that December 
20th: the first annual Knight Saber Christmas Party, complete with 
karaoke, spiked punch, and white elephant gifts.  The rooms normally used 
for combat training and technical work were festively decorated with 
ribbons, holly, and mistletoe, and a colorful tree sat by its lonesome in 
a corner.  Before, there really weren't enough people to hold a party, 
nor were the bonds between the people strong enough to warrant it.  

     First up: karaoke contest.  The first two entries weren't that bad, 
as Sylia had a surprisingly beautiful singing voice and Nene's song 
was...well...painless.  Then things started to deteriorate.  The first 
indication of trouble was Priss' exquisite, if horribly appropriate, 
rendition of "Memory".  First prize was eventually awarded to Mackie and 
Ranma for their impromptu, slightly inebriated, and cold-water version of 
"Natural Woman".  After their performance, Sylia awarded the prize, 
smashed the microphones, and erased the program from the entertainment 
computer.  Somehow, the party continued despite the horror.  

     The time came for the distribution of gifts.  Sylia raised her hand 
for silence, and called out to the now-boisterous bunch.

     "Everyone, before we open the humorous gifts, I acquired a few 
presents for all of you."  She hefted a large package, for Shampoo.  
"First...for you."

     "For me?"  Shampoo opened the box, and pulled out a pair of ornate 
bonbori.  "Aiyaah...how you know?"

     "Linna told me what happened to your old pair."

     "Thank you..." She wielded the weapons for a moment, testing their 
weight with a few practice swings.  Sylia moved back to the tree, and 
picked up a couple more boxes.  

     "Priss, Leon...these are for you."  She handed the small boxes to 
the couple.  They opened them in unison, to reveal a set of keys for each 
of them.  They held them up, then noticed the Mercedes-Benz symbol on the 
keychain.

     "Priss, I figured that you might want a waterproof form of 
transportation, so I bought a car for you.  As for you, Leon..." she 
smiled wryly, "You are going to be taking her on dates, aren't you?  I
know it won't replace the thrill of a motorcycle, but they should be 
useful."

     "Thanks."  The young couple held each other close.

     "Next...Linna."  She picked up a large box from the corner.  Linna 
took the box, sat down on the floor, and opened the lid.

     Inside were...more boxes.  Some were no more than a few inches on 
each side, while others were much larger.  Linna took the box on top, 
opened it - and gasped.  Her eyes dazzled as she pulled out a 
full-length black velvet evening dress.  She ran a hand over the 
soft fabric, as though confirming its existence in her mind.

     "Occasionally a woman likes to feel beautiful, ne?"

     "Ne," Linna whispered as she wiped an errant tear away.

     "And...for Nene."  She picked up a small package from underneath 
the tree.

     "Mmmph?"  The redhead in question looked up from her ice cream 
just in time to grab the gift.  She opened the box, revealing...well... 
some sort of electronic device, roughly the size of an old-style 
graphing calculator.  The top third of the face glittered with the 
crystals of a holographic projector, while various buttons and 
switches covered the rest of the face.  Disbelieving, Nene reverently 
touched the buttons.

     "Sylia...this is...how did..."

     "Some questions are better left unasked."

     Nene just shook her head.  "Man...I wonder how much Genom would 
be willing to pay for this?"

     "Nene..."

     She smiled innocently.  "Just kidding..."

     "Ranma, Nodoka, this is for you."  Sylia produced a thick 
envelope from her coat pocket, and handed it to the younger of the 
clan.

     "Kore wa..." Nodoka-chan whispered as she looked at the papers 
inside.  "This has gotta be some joke."

     Sylia laughed.  "No joke.  Also, no rent payment.  I take it you 
appreciate the gift?"

     They both nodded, still looking in amazement at the ownership 
papers.  

     "And, finally...Mackie."  She handed him a long wooden case.  He 
opened it...

     Inside, a katana, beauty and grace embodied in polished steel and 
rosewood.  "Father...this is his..."

     "Father asked me to hold onto it until you had reached adulthood.  
I could never convince myself you were ready, until now."  Sylia smiled 
proudly.

     "Also, it can help compensate for certain 'shortcomings', right, 
Mackie?" Priss blurted, unable to resist the comment.

     "Hey!  Mackie doesn't need any compensation," Nodoka interjected, 
holding her love close.

     She added, almost as an afterthought, "...usually."
       
     The party roared with laughter.

*****************************************************************************

     The clock on the monitor flashed the lateness of the hour: 3:34.  
Most of the guests had already left, citing one sort of business or 
another.  All of the presents had been unwrapped, and all that was left 
was to clean up and call it a night.

     "Sis?"  Mackie walked over to join his sister, his mind trying to 
cut through the alcohol and weariness.

     "Yes, Mackie?"

     "I was wondering..."

     "About the gag gift?  Well, if you don't like it, Nodoka might..." 
Sylia smiled ,too tired to laugh.

     "Sylia..."  Mackie was not in the mood for jokes.

     "Sorry...(yawn)...what's on your mind?"

     Mackie chewed his lip thoughtfully.  "Tonight, when you gave all 
those gifts...why did you do that?"

     She shrugged.  "It's Christmas."

     "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

     The leader of the Knight Sabers sat back in her chair, and let out a 
long, tired sigh.  "Over the past couple of weeks, I've received...
reports...of a disturbing nature.  I think - correction, I know - that a 
confrontation is coming soon, and we'll be in the middle of it.  Either 
we succeed, survive, and probably disband the group due to our lack of 
use...or we don't.  I guess what I'm trying to say is...this will 
probably be the last Christmas we'll have as the Knight Sabers."

     Mackie frowned in concern.  "What's going to happen?"

     Only a small, despairing shake of the head came in reply.  Mackie 
rose from his seat, and raised his glass.  "Merry Christmas, sis."

     She clumsily raised her own in response.  "You too, Mackie."

*****************************************************************************

     Andy Warhol once said that every person has fifteen minutes of 
fame.  Priss looked out at the moderately jovial crowd in front of 
her...so far, she'd had twenty-five.  Some in the crowd were bored, 
simply biding their time before the main attraction made her entrance.  
Others were naturally impressed by her music, and wanted more.  One more 
song to go before her night was up - the one she had been waiting for.  
The noise from the crowd reached a crescendo, then fell silent, as all of 
the lights went out.

     All save one.

     Priss walked out into the spotlight, her head bowed in silent 
contemplation, memories from her past as real as sight inside her head.  
She had chosen this song for a reason: though written years before her
birth, the song was, in many ways, her life - and memorial.

     The beginning chords from the guitarist echoed in her head, a 
funereal dirge slowly intoxicating her into the song.  Her voice started 
out soft...melodious...sad, knowing in some corner of her mind that the 
moment to ignite would come.  

     The song was a strange one, new to an audience dulled by decades of 
corporation music: an old tune of lies and truth, war and peace...and 
love.  Her eyes flared as the first chorus came, the anger in her coming 
alive:

     Is there anybody listening?
     Is there anyone who sees what's going on?
     Read between the lines, 
     criticize the words they're selling.
     Think for yourself and feel the walls 
     become sand beneath your feet.

     She calmed again, her eyes lost in the dreaming...sailing away, far 
from the lies of society.  As she continued, it took an effort to keep 
from breaking down, nearly doing so at one point before a powerful chord 
brought her back, darker and angrier than ever.  She was a demoness on 
stage by the end, every indignity handed her exorcised in focused screams 
for the crowd's benefit.  Then it came, the end of the emotional roller 
coaster, a sad, quiet whisper.

     "...close your eyes."

     She bowed, wiped the tears from her eyes, then looked out into the 
crowd...roaring.  She smiled, bowed again, thanked everyone, then headed 
backstage.

*****************************************************************************

     If anyone asked, Priss would chalk it up to professional curiosity.

     Of course, they'd then notice the slight tapping of her feet, and 
think otherwise.  

     Truth to tell, she was enjoying the show.  Vision was, in many ways, 
Priss' antithesis on stage, the light to counter her darkness.  The 
retrothrash singer watched the familiarity, the friendliness she showed 
with the crowd, along with the intense love and hope shining in her eyes 
with each phrase...equally passionate, yet worlds apart.  She found 
herself getting lost in admiration while pining with jealousy at the same 
time, her professional and personal selves in conflict.  

     Then, about an hour into the show...Priss noticed something, 
normally invisible to those outside of performance.  Vision was starting 
to withdraw...she didn't move around as much as before, and the vocals 
were just a tad strained.  A veteran of countless performances, Priss 
recognized the symptoms instantly: Vision was either exhausted or sick, 
likely the latter from a veteran.  

     Vision only lasted a couple more songs before she couldn't go on.  
After finishing "Say Yes!", she bowed one last time, waved to the crowd, 
and staggered out to the wings.  She collapsed into the arms of the 
nearest person there - in this case, the opening act.  Priss gently laid 
her down on to the floor, every sensation of wrong pricking at her mind.  
Then she got a good, close look at the singer - and backed away slowly, 
frightened.

     It was the hands which got her attention first - the delicate 
instruments were smaller, with the fingernails lengthened slightly and 
slender.  The face was also slightly different, with the nose a slightly 
less prominent feature than it had been.  Other small clues from her body 
were noticed, as the changes in question were not unfamiliar to her. 
After all, she had seen them many times before, in high-speed photos... 
of herself.

*****************************************************************************

Hello, everyone.

I apologize for sending a revised copy so soon.  Due to some C&C I 
recieved, I noticed two major problems with it.  First of all, due to 
some revision in pt. 6, I deleted some information that would be vital to 
later parts of the story.  Also, I made a major error about the dates, as 
I placed the party a day late.  This may not seem important, but as a 
result Priss was supposed to be at the concert and at the Christmas party 
at the same time!

Thanks...

To Rumiko Takahashi and Kenichi Sonoda, for creating these characters.

To all those on the early list and the ML who have sent in their comments,
especially Stormwalker, skywise, and Jeanne Hedge for their help.

If you wish to be on my early list, let me know.

As always, C&C is appreciated.
 
Nicholas Leifker
"Nightelf"
nwl9354@tam2000.tamu.edu
http://http.tamu.edu:8000/~nwl9354
November 10, 1996