MEGATOKYO, JAPAN - MAY 2033

     Part of her hated herself for taking Li Chin's head.  It tormented her
in her sleep, telling her that she should have stopped.  She had Li Chin at
her mercy.  She had _bested_ an Immortal in combat, that should have been
enough.  She should have spared her and made her first real Immortal friend,
not a Teacher or lover, a _friend_.  She needed a friend right now, someone
who knew what she was going through and didn't have 900 or 5,000 years
clouding their memories.
     Then there was that other part of her.  The part that said Li Chin had
it coming eventually anyway.  There can be only One, right?  Why the hell
couldn't it be Priss Asagiri?  After all, this is what Immortals did.  They
were _supposed_ to kill each other.  And besides, didn't that Quickening
feel good?
     The problem was it did.  Dispite the pain, there was a perverse amount
of pleasure in it as well.  She had liked the Quickening.  Patrick hadn't
said anything about that, and Methos hadn't mentioned it.  What was
happening to her?
     Was she becoming evil? 
     She just didn't know anymore.
     There was a knock on her trailer door.  She jumped.  It was obviously a
mortal, since she hadn't felt any Immortal nearby.  She opened the door and
Linna walked in. 
     "Priss?"
     "Hi, Linna."
     "I just wanted to say goodbye.  I quit the Knight Sabers and I'm
leaving Megatokyo for a while."
     "What?!"
     "I didn't like how Sylia was treating you.  What you did was no reason
to fire you.  None of us _really_ know what you're going through."
     "You don't know the half of it."  Priss suddenly realized that she
could and _should_ tell Linna everything.  She always felt closest to her,
out of all the Knight Sabers.  Sylia was distant, Nene had the advantage of
not being an orphan, but Linna and Priss were more alike then not.  "Sit
down, Linna.  There's something I have to tell you."

     "Silky Doll, Mackie speaking."
     "Put your sister on, Mackie."
     "Um... who is this..."
     "It's Patrick O'Brien, Priss' Teacher."
     "Oh... um...  Hang on a sec."  Mackie put the phone down, then went
looking for Sylia.  He found her helping a customer.  When she was done, he
said, "Phone for you, sis."
     "Thanks."  She began walking over to the counter.  "Who is it?"
     "That guy O'Brien."
     That stopped Sylia in her tracks.  "I'll take it in the office."  
     She walked out back towards the small office space she kept on the
store level.  Silky Doll had, of course, a more extensive office space near
the penthouse.  She closed and locked the door, then sat behind the desk,
turned the security procedures on, picked the phone up, and turned on the
video screen.  "Sylia Stingray."
     "You mind explaining what the fuck happened?  I thought we agreed that
Priss would remain in the Knight Sabers.  I thought we decided that was the
best way to keep her stable?"
     "How did you find out?"
     "I've got my own damn sources, just like you do.  I just had to put a
couple of the sources together and got the whole story.  Do you know what
she _did_?  She went on a *fucking rampage*!  She killed an Immortal just
because she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time!"
     "What would you have me do?"
     "Give her another chance.  You don't know how hard this is for her. For
some reason, she's having a rougher time than most.  By now, she should've
accepted what's happened and started following my training.  But instead
she's actively going headhunting."
     "I wasn't the first one to kick her out of something."
     "That was low, Sylia.  I did what I did because I wanted to scare some
sense into her."
     "And how do you know that's not exactly what I did?"
     "Well if it was, it didn't work."
     "Then I'd say we both failed her."
     That stopped Patrick's own rampage.  He said, "So what should we do, then?"
     "We need to talk to her.  Set up some kind of a meeting where we can
all talk."
     Patrick thought for a few seconds.  "I don't know what kind of mental
state she's in right now.  If she's truly gone over the edge, she could try
to kill both of us.  We'll have to get her to Holy Ground.  She can't do
anything there."
     "Holy Ground?"
     Patrick nodded.  "Not even the most evil among us would dare kill if
they knew they were on Holy Ground, so it'll have to be some place obvious,
not a ruined Buddhist shrine, or burnt-out church, but a cemetery, or a
church that's still standing."
     "There's the Yokohama cemetery..."
     "All right.  I'll set it up and give you a call back."  Patrick hung up
and the screen went blank.
     Sylia closed her eyes and sighed.  "Priss, what have you done now?"

     "My God," Linna whispered.
     "Yeah," Priss said.
     "Does Sylia know about this?"
     "I think so.  She saw Patrick die and revive right before she put the
Knight Sabers together.  He explained everything to her then.  But Linna...
that's not all.  This afternoon...  This afternoon I killed another Immortal
for no other reason than the fact that I was pissed off.  I _murdered_ her
in cold blood!  Have I become one of the bad guys?  Am I no better than
Largo?  Or Quincy?"  She placed her face in her hands and quietly began
sobbing.  
     Linna was _really_ out of her depth now, but couldn't leave Priss.  Not
like this, not when she was in so much pain.  "I really don't know what to
say, Priss, but I can tell you that only good people question their motives
and feel guilty if they did the wrong thing.  You can't bring back this
Immortal you killed, and maybe you can't ever forgive yourself.  But you can
atone for it by making sure you never do it again.  And you can relax,
you're not becoming evil.  If you were, you wouldn't feel guilty or wonder
why you did it."
     Priss looked up.  "Really?"
     "Really."
     "Thanks, Linna."
     Linna turned to go.  "You gonna be OK?"
     Priss nodded.  "I think so."
     "When I get to wherever I'm going, I'll give you a call.  Maybe you can
join me?"
     Priss nodded and smiled weakly.  " This town's been a _real_ hellhole
lately."

     Priss sat in the midst of her trailer not even thinking.  Eventually,
Methos came in, took his coat off, and sat beside her.  He kissed the nape
of her neck, then backed off in surprise and shock.
     "You did it, didn't you?" he said.
     "Did what?"
     "Took a head."
     "You can tell?"
     Methos nodded.  "I can tell from your Buzz.  It's stronger now." 
     "Damn.  Damn it all to _hell_!  This was _never_ supposed to happen."
She looked up at Methos.  "You know, I _used_ to have dreams.  When I was a
little girl, I _knew_ that by now I would be married with a kid and two
dogs, living out in the suburbs of San Francisco.  My husband would be a
graphic designer and have an office in our house, and every morning I'd drop
the kid off at daycare and go to work in the city.  I was gonna be a famous
doctor and save lives all day, then go home at night and be with my family.
I'd retire and be with my grandkids for the rest of my life." 
     "San Francisco?"
     "Yup.  San Francisco."
     "With two dogs?"
     "Uh-huh.  Two females.  A labrador and a mastiff."
     "And the kid?  A boy or a girl?"
     "That depended on which day you talked to me."
     "And then?"
     "Then the Earthquake came, but I still had dreams.  I gave that one up
when I ran away from the orphanage and realized that since I'd never get the
proper education I'd never be a famous doctor.  So then I was gonna be a
rock star.  By now I was supposed to have released four multi-platinum
albums and be the voice actress for the main character of Japan's hottest
anime.  My boyfriend and I would marry, I'd have a kid and two dogs, and
retire from life on the road to devote my time to the voice acting and
recording."
     "Still with the two dogs and one kid, though."
     "I'm at least a _little_ consistent."
     "And then?"
     "Then he was killed and all my dreams died.  I got them back a bit when
I joined the Knight Sabers, but now they're all gone."
     "All of them?"
     "Look around you, Adam.  Do you see two dogs and a kid?  Do you see a
house in the suburbs of San Francisco?  Do you see any platinum albums
hanging on the walls?  My dreams have all gone, so I may as well stop
dreaming." 
     He put his arm around her and held her close.  "A wise man once said,
'So long as men continue to dream, their dreams will never vanish.'" 
     "Who said that?"
     "George Washington told it to Patrick during the winter at Valley
Forge.  Patrick took it to heart, and lives his life by it.  Another wise
man once said 'life without pain isn't real.'"
     "Who said _that_?"
     "Patrick.  It's another phrase he lives his life by."
     She pulled away.  "Then I guess my life is as real as it gets.  Damn
what a mess it is."
     "It'll get better.  You'll get used to everything."
     "The Immortal I killed didn't need to die.  I didn't _have_ to take her
head, but I did.  I was so pissed at Sylia, at Patrick, at you, and at
myself that I went over the edge."
     "We all do that sometimes.  We all screw up."
     "But you know what bothers me the most?"
     "What?"
     "I enjoyed it, taking her Quickening.  In a sick sort of sexual way it
felt _good_."
     Methos nodded.  "What did you expect?"
     "You mean it's _supposed_ to feel good?"
     "Of course.  Would you _want_ to take someone's head if your reward was
blistering pain?  It _is_ like sex.  Would a species _want_ to breed if it
didn't feel good? 
     Priss smiled, then laughed.  "And here I thought there was something
wrong with me!"
     "I hate to tell you this, but you're normal.  They're not that unlike
each other when you get right down to it.  Sex and Quickening can cause
people to do things that we would call uncivilized.  They can turn people
into killers.  But as a natural function of existence, most of us engage in
that activity, enjoy it, and are called normal."
     Priss sighed, then lay back against the wall with her eyes closed.  "I
just want to start over, you know?  With Patrick _and_ Sylia.  But it's too
late for that now.  Too late to go back."
     Methos stood and put his coat on.
     "Where're you going?"
     "Maybe it's _not_ too late."

     In the midst of the concrete chasms of Megatokyo, Patrick had found a
small, unnoticed, deserted park on the edge of a massive residential and
business development.  But the fact that it was unnoticed wasn't what drew
Patrick here.  There were better and more upkept parks closer to his condo.
What drew him was the statue in the center.  It was a statue of a samurai.
Patrick had met his second Teacher, Yoshihiro "Joe" Ammamoto, during the age
of the samurai and it was he who taught him many of the sword forms and
martial arts disciplines he used.  It was even his katana he carried.  But
Ammamoto had died in the last century, sacrificing himself for his Student's
sake when Patrick's arch-enemy, Kurdt VonHoffer, came thirsting for revenge
determined to destroy Patrick's life and take his head. Patrick had
prevailed and defeated VonHoffer in the end.  However, in the swirling
energies of the Quickening, Patrick was almost overwhelmed by VonHoffer's
evil.  It was Ammamoto's Quickening which was in VonHoffer's possession that
had saved him, convincing Patrick that evil wasn't his true nature.  Virtue,
honor, everything that made up that intangible thing called _good_, that was
Patrick's true self. 
     The question remained, which was Priscilla S. Asagiri's true self?
     You shouldn't need to ask that question, Patrick-kun, Ammamoto's voice
seemed to say from within him. 
     But Sensei, Patrick said, every time I look at her, I don't see either
good or evil.  All I see is a question mark.  I simply don't know. 
     When I first saw you, that is all I saw as well.  Remember?
     "That was different," Patrick said aloud to the statue.
     Was it?  As I recall, you were searching for your true nature as well.
Each person, mortal or Immortal, must find their true destiny themselves.
No one can force them onto a path they were never meant to travel.
     "I thought I'd find you here."
     Patrick turned and saw Methos standing next to him.  He was so wrapped
up in his internal dialogue, that he hadn't even noticed his Buzz. "Methos." 
     Methos indicated the statue.  "Remind you of someone?"
     "Yup."
     "Ammamoto, perhaps?"
     "Yup."
     "Ah."
     Patrick turned and looked at the older Immortal.  "Methos, what are you
doing here?"
     "O'Brien, I know we've never really seen eye-to-eye but... Look, I need
your help."
     "I didn't think you needed anyone's help.  I thought you were a
_survivor_."
     "It's about Priss."
     "What about her?"
     "_She's_ the one that needs help actually, specifically _your_ help.
She took another Immortal's head and feels horrible about it."
     Patrick turned back to the statue.  "I will not give help to someone
who doesn't want it.  Until she comes to _me_..."
     "That's the problem, then, isn't it?  You're both too damn stubborn.
You two are a lot alike, you know.  You've both got your pride and ego..."
     "Pride and ego has nothing to do with it, at least not for me.  I can't
help her if she doesn't want it.  I can't _force_ her to be my Student again."
     "She wants it.  She wants both yours and Sylia's help.  She wants to
talk to you."
     Patrick looked at the ground.  "I've heard stories about Students
wanting to get their Teacher's Quickening by doing just that.  They meet and
the Student betrays the Teacher."
     "I've heard of that too, even had it tried on me a couple of times. But
this isn't one of those cases.  O'Brien, _believe_ me, I know what you're
going through.  No one wants to see their Student turn bad.  I assure you
that Priss doesn't want to turn bad either.  Just talk to her, that's all.
After all, a Teacher needs his Student as much as a Student needs her Teacher."
     Patrick nodded, knowing this was just the sort of thing he wanted to
set up in the first place.  "Noon tomorrow, Yokohama cemetery.  I'll bring
Sylia."
     "That place is _huge_.  You'll have to be a bit more specific than that." 
     "Tell her we'll be at Irene's grave."

     Patrick and Sylia stood at Irene's grave waiting.  Patrick looked at
the small headstone.  "Who was she?"
     "A friend of Linna's who was killed by GENOM.  We all know the spot.  I
hope you're right about this."
     "So do I."  Patrick then looked about, sensing the Immortals nearby.
"They're here."
     "I told you she'd come, Irelander," Methos said, emerging.
     "Sylia," Patrick said, "Adam Pierson.  Pierson, Sylia Stingray."
     They both nodded at each other, then silence fell over the group.  When
a full minute went by without anyone saying anything, Methos said, "Will you
three just _talk_ to one another?"
     Priss went first.  "I've done some things recently..."
     "I know," Patrick said.
     "But I never wanted..."
     "Priss, we've both got some issues we need to work out, and I'd like to
walk away from this cemetery at least not as enemies.  I'll go first. 
     "One of my Students, my 'kids' as you called them once, died at my
hands.  His name was Samuel Leonard, he was born in the late 1800's.
Unfortunately he was mentally unbalanced and after he had lost someone very
close to him, another of his Teachers, he went off the deep end."  Patrick
paused, wondering how much to tell Priss, wondering if Methos had already
told her about the Watchers.  But it was Methos who continued. 
     "Sam's other Teacher was an Immortal holy man named Darius.  He had
been killed on Holy Ground by a group of mortals who called themselves the
Hunters.  They were actually a splinter group of an organization called the
Watchers.  The Watchers chronicle our lives, observe, record, and never
interfere.  Both Patrick and I have made friends within the Watcher
organization, so we've let them be.  I actually _joined_ the Watchers at one
point." 
     "Sam had found out about Watchers too," Patrick continued, "only he
assumed incorrectly that they were all evil.  In his insanity he kidnapped
the Watchers assigned to good friends of his and then killed not only the
Watchers, but the Immortals when they refused to take a mortal life for no
reason.  He tried that on me, and we fought."
     "And you took his head."
     Patrick nodded.  "But that's not the least of it.  I took his head in
front of Nancy Peters, another Student of mine.  They were lovers.  It took
Nancy and I a _long_ time to work our problems out.  So you see why I was a
bit overprotective of you, and why I kicked you out of my house.  Frankly, I
wasn't sure if you'd wind up good or evil, or just amoral, and I did not
want to have to kill another Student.  I couldn't live with that kind of
guilt again.  
     "You've called my Students my 'kids.'  You're actually not that far off
target.  When you take a young Immortal in, they _do_ become like your
offspring.  It's only human to want to pass on something of yourself into a
new generation.  We can't have children, so young Immortals take their
place.  No parent wants their child to turn out bad, never mind be forced to
kill them."
     Priss was silent.  She hadn't known.  _Couldn't_ have known.  There was
more going on in Patrick's head than she originally thought, more than
simply the "kill or be killed" mentality she herself proudly displayed as
one of the Knight Sabers, a mentality she assumed everyone else around her
had as well.  But now...
     Now she wasn't so sure.
     Sylia, Nene, Linna, even Leon.  There was more beneath the surface of
each of them than she thought.  She had thought Sylia was merely out for
revenge for the murder of her father at the hands of GENOM executive Brian
J. Mason.  But Mason had been killed by Sylia herself months ago, and yet
she had shown no sign of shutting down the Knight Sabers' activities.  In
fact, she upgraded most of their equipment just before the Largo incident. 
     Nene, falling just shy of annoying cuteness, also had a loyalty streak
that was unmatched, both to the Knight Sabers and the AD Police.  She wasn't
doing it for the money, for political power, or for revenge.  She
passionately, perhaps naively, believed that what she was doing in both her
jobs was helping and protecting mankind.
     Linna seemed to care only about money.  But, like Priss, she had lost
her parents and any semblance of a secure life when she was a child. Perhaps
the money obsession was her attempt at building security again, and the
string of boyfriends were the casualties.  Priss honestly didn't know.  Of
them all, Linna was the most private, hiding her inner turmoil beneath a
seemingly superficial exterior.
     And then there was Leon...
     Leon was perhaps the _most_ complex.  Fighting as the Knight Sabers
did, but within the system.  Dispite all the political bull and bureaucratic
red tape that prevented him from even requisitioning the proper equipment,
he _still_ believed in the system.  Even during the Largo incident, after he
revealed that he knew she was a Knight Saber, he insisted she leave Largo to
the AD Police, knowing full well that they didn't have a chance in hell.
She suddenly realized that Leon would be an incredible asset to the Knight
Sabers organization.  Given the right gear, Leon would probably fare at
least as well as any of them did in a fight.  But in that same instant, she
knew that he'd _never_ take the vigilante tactics the Knight Sabers used to
heart.  As far as Leon was concerned, everyone, guilty or innocent, had to
be shown that the system worked.
     "Damn it, how could I have been so blind?"
     "You couldn't have known, Priss," Patrick said.  "Not unless I told you."
     "Not _just_ about you.  About everything.  And everyone.  I mean, here
I was thinking everyone's following _me_.  That everyone's motives are
identical to mine, like I'm the star of some damn video series.  Just goes
to show you how stupid I really am."
     "A wise man once said, 'It's a fine line between stupid and clever.'
Once you realize which side of that line you're on, you can cross it."
     Priss chuckled.  "Thanks, Teach."
     Patrick smiled slightly at her calling him 'Teach' again.  "For what?"
     "For everything.  I'll try to be good from now on.  We're actually not
that different, you know."
     "How so?"
     "I was forced to kill a friend recently, too.  Her name was Sylvie.
She had escaped from the Generos space station where she had been forced to
work, and she came to Earth looking for freedom.  But she was a boomer, a
33-S." 
     Patrick raised his eyebrows.  "33-S?  They're supposedly illegal."
     "Sometimes, Irelander," Methos said, "you act like an old married man.
_Supposedly_, yes."
     "Some 33-S's were augmented with C-class hardware in order to
synchronize with military weapons," Sylia said.
     Priss closed her eyes.  "That's where Sylvie's problems began.  When
she got here, she was accompanied by another 33-S named Anri, who had been
injured, _damaged_ in the escape and was constantly loosing her artificial
blood.  So Sylvie took a stolen DD battle mover and began collecting human
blood to keep Anri alive.  But the DD was equipped with a nuclear deadman
destruct device, and when Leon tried to stop her, the DD fused itself with
Sylvie's systems, went into full auto mode, and began its countdown."  Priss
broke off, not wanting to relive such painful memories so soon. 
     Sylia continued.  "Priss was forced to kill Sylvie in order to
disconnect her from the DD and save the city.  Then she brought the 33-S
data that Sylvie had acquired to Anri."
     Priss began again.  "And then Anri fell in with Largo, who wanted to
rule the world as some kind of boomer messiah.  He killed Anri, and then I
died fighting him.  You know the rest."
     "You see, O'Brien?" Methos said.  "There's a reason for everything." 
     Patrick sighed.  "I'm sorry, Priss.  I hadn't known.  No _wonder_
you're having such a tough time."
     "Sylvie's death was my fault.  I should have been able to find _some_
way to save her."
     "Don't blame yourself, Priss.  First of all, you _did_ save millions of
lives.  Secondly, Immortals are _just_ as vulnerable to human frailties as
mortals, maybe even more so.  We get better at screwing up, too, over the
centuries."
     "_Great_."
     "Priss, Methos tells me you want to start over again."
     "I wish I could."
     "Well we can't change the past, but we can try to work out the future
together.  If you're willing, I'm willing."
     Priss looked up with hope-filled eyes.  "I'll be at your place tomorrow."
     Then all three looked at Sylia.  She smiled slightly.  "Priss, you can
return to the Knight Sabers on one condition."
     "Name it."
     "That you at least try a _little_ harder to follow orders?"
     Priss smiled.  "You've got it."
     Patrick smiled back, knowing that Priss had finally reached a turning
point.  Things would be a lot better from here on in.

     Linna turned the radio down, listening to her car gurgle and clunk.
"What the..?"  Then steam began pouring out of the hood.  She pulled over
onto the breakdown lane of the highway and popped the hood.  She was greeted
by the smell of anti-freeze pouring out from seemingly everywhere.
     "Great.  Just what I need."
     She went back into the car and picked up her cell phone, thinking of
who she could call to come get her.  Definitely not Sylia.  Nene would
obviously try to convince her to return to the Knight Sabers.  The only one
she could think of was Priss, so she dialed her phone number. 
     The line rang once... twice... three times...  Then there was a blast
of Replicants music, and Priss' face appeared on the screen in her dash. 
     "You've reached Priss.  Leave a message"
     "Priss, it's Linna.  I'm currently broken down on highway 145 about an
hour and a half out of town.  Could you come and get me?  I let my JAA
membership lapse, so I can't get a tow.  Call me at my cell phone number.
Thanks."

     Priss and Patrick wasted no time getting back into training.  Priss had
reluctantly told him about the fight, how only Li Chin's mercy allowed her
to win.  Patrick said she had a lot more training to do.  If Li Chin hadn't
been merciful, Priss would now be dead.  When they arrived at Patrick's
condo, there was a message on his machine.  Patrick pressed the "play"
button and Stephen Kowalski's face appeared on the screen.
     "Hello, Irelander.  Let's say we settle things between us once and for
all.  How about we meet at, say, 8:30 tonight, in a little alleyway downtown
behind a bar called Yoshi's Demise.  I'll see you then."
     "You're going," Priss said, "aren't you?"
     "I have to.  Challenge has been given."  Patrick looked at his watch.
7:30.  One hour.  "Why don't you go home.  I'll meet you there when it's over."

     But Priss didn't go home, instead she went to Sylia's.  Nene was there
as well.  "Priss!  Sylia told me what happened, I'm glad you're back!" 
     "Thanks, Nene.  Hi, Sylia.  Can I call home and check my messages?
Thanks."  She dialed Sylia's phone and heard the message from Linna.
     "Hey, Sylia, Linna's broken down on highway 145.  Can I borrow your car
and get her?"
     Sylia entered the room.  "I'll do one better.  Linna and I need to
talk.  _I'll_ go get her."

     When Sylia left, Nene noticed that Priss kept looking at her watch.
"You've got a date with Adam tonight?"
     "No, I...  That Immortal named Patrick got a call from another
Immortal.  They're supposed to meet in a half hour."
     "A _challenge_?" Nene said.
     "You know?  How?"
     Nene, unaware that Priss already knew about the Watchers, simply said,
"I hacked into this weird computer system and pieced it together.  Who
challenged him?" 
     "Some guy named Stephen Kowalski."
     Nene gasped.
     "What's wrong with you?"
     "Patrick will loose.  Kowalski's the boomer headhunter.  He has the
boomers shoot his opponents, then takes their heads.  Priss?"
     Priss had, of course, heard of the boomer headhunter team.  However,
she hadn't realized that it was an Immortal doing the killing.  Priss got up
with a determined look on her face.  She knew what she had to do.

(continued...)
(c) 1997 Mabnesswords