This is the last in the series of teasers leading to something bigger.  To
recap, the first was "A Matter of Inheritance", followed by "Destiny, not
Desire", and this is the third and final scenesetter, "The Bitter Taste of
Truth."

If you missed any of the above, and would be interested in reading them
(recommended if you want the story that follows to make sense) let me know,
and I'll fire 'em to ya.

Now, on with the show...
Coutuva.
+++


The Bitter Taste of Truth
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	Within the penthouse office of the of the largest business complex
in Downtown Tokyo, a phone rang insistently.  It continued to ring for
several minutes amid the immaculately arranged papers and desk
ornamentation,
seemingly ignored by the occupant of the large chair nearby.
	Finally, the chair turned slowly back around, and a slender arm
extended toward the device, removing the receiver and brining it to it's
owner's ear.  Brushing aside her long lilac hair, she listened distantly to
the voice on the phone, then issued a curt, one-word reply.
	"Hai."  She stated, then hung up the phone.
	Turning the big chair back toward the massive windows, she again
gazed out over the city she virtually owned.  The years had been very good
to
her, and she had managed to amass a personal and corporate worth far in
excess of her wildest dreams.  She took the successful company her father
had begun and in just over a decade had transformed it into a major world
empire,  sufficient in size and assets to outright buy any of the G7
countries.
	Her accomplishments to date would have made her father proud, had
he not succumbed to a heart attack five years earlier.  Yet, at this point
in her life, none of that mattered anymore.  She was incredibly rich,
incredibly powerful, and incredibly... bored.
        Up until two years ago, she was unstoppable.  She took the typical
Japanese drive to succeed to new levels, soon eclipsing any and all
competitors.  However, she noticed that her life had become less
satisfying... less interesting of late.  It was as if, in the last couple
of years, something was missing.
        It hadn't really bothered her too much until the last month or so,
when she completed the biggest deal of her corporate career.  Normally, she
would have thrown a massive party, and made sure the world knew that her
company now owned the American operation known as NASA, but his time...
this
time she just didn't feel like it.  In fact, she had done something this
day
that she had not ever done in her life.  She had arrived at work at
6:35am... five minutes later than usual.  And what perplexed her the most
was that it didn't bother her at all.
        Such a thing would usually have resulted in her firing anyone else
on the spot, with no options.  Shaking her head, she sighed softly to her
reflection in the huge window before her.
        "What's wrong with you?"  she asked it,  almost expecting an
answer.
When it didn't come, she grinned sheepishly at her moment of silliness.
        Sighing, she picked up the phone once again and buzzed her personal
assistant.  When the girl answered, she uttered a single emotionless
sentence.  "I'm going home."

        Upon her helicopter landing at her palatial hilltop estate, she
headed immediately for her bath house, intent on trying to soak away her
strange mood.  Peeling off her business suit and catching a quick rinse,
she then strode out into the perfectly temperature controlled water and
stretched out on her back, allowing the warmth of the bath to envelop her
completely.
        The sensation brought a content smile to her face, but she still
felt a little odd... something wasn't right with her world, and whatever it
was wouldn't go away.
        After soaking a bit longer, she eventually headed for her bedroom
to get dressed, wondering what she was going to do next.  She hadn't had a
day off in over a decade, making the entire concept somewhat foreign.
        Upon dressing and instructing the household staff that she was not
to be disturbed, she sat quietly on her balcony and simply let her mind
wander.  She had been told long ago that such a simple act could often
help one think, as it loosened the restrictions of structured, purposeful
thought.
        Slowly, images began to take shape in her mind, ranging from
business to her earlier bath, all in a random jumble that seemed to make no
sense.  She fond herself remembering her father, some of the things she had
created over the years, and even some of the people she had met.  Nothing
seemed to have any great significance, however, much to her chagrin.
        Sitting up, she sipped at her iced tea thoughtfully, then rose and
walked to the railing of her balcony, casting a long look over her
expansive property.  Below her, she noticed a Bentley limousine pull up,
and the driver scurry around to open the passenger door.  She smirked to
herself at the sight, noting that it was only a Bentley, and not even
custom made.  She thought to herself with a huff how she wouldn't be
caught dead in such a pedestrian vehicle.
        Turning back to her lounge, she knew her staff would send the
visitor packing, so she didn't concern herself with who it might be.   Even
so, she heard the conversation at the main entry below her, and glanced
back over the railing to watch the show.
        What she saw hit her like a slap in the face.
        The woman at the entry wore a dark scarf over her head, and upon
being refused audience, turned and strode indignantly back to her waiting
car.  As she approached it, she pulled the scarf off, revealing a very full
head of poorly colored flame-red hair.  She slid back into her car, and
within moments was gone.
        On the balcony, she stood stunned, the image of that head of red
hair replaying itself in her mind.  Who her disappointed visitor had been
meant nothing, but that hair certainly did...  at least, when attached to
a specific person it did.
        Suddenly, everything became crystal clear, and a wry smile spread
across her paled face.  She now knew what her problem was, and the
realization came to her as a bit of a shock.
        Slumping back in her lounge, she shook her head in disbelief. She
couldn't accept what her mind was telling her, even though she knew, deep
inside, that it was the truth.
        Most of her life, she had strived to be the best, able to emerge
victorious over any and all challengers... except one.  This one person had
been a constant source of aggravation to her, mainly because no matter what
she had tried, she had been unable to beat her in any decisive manner.
        Her wry grin changed to a smile as she put the pieces together. 
Two
years ago, the person in question simply vanished, and at that time she had
felt that she had won.  She had forced her adversary into hiding by
becoming
the most powerful woman in Japan, if not the World.
        At least, that's what she believed.  As she thought about it now
however, it became apparent what had really transpired.
        With the disappearance of her most hated opponent, there was no
challenge left in her life.  There was nothing left to prove, not more
windmills to tilt at, no more... fun.  Life had become routine and boring,
with even major corporate conquests and breakthroughs in R & D holding no
excitement any longer.
        It was a bitter pill to swallow, but she finally resigned herself
to the sad truth of it.  Everything she was, everything she had
accomplished
was because of one woman.  A woman she had spent most of her life hating
and
trying to demean and belittle.  She suddenly realized that without her
around to remind her of her greatest failure, she was gradually losing the
desire to succeed.
        The irony of it all abruptly struck her as incredibly funny, and
she began to laugh out loud.
        "Who would have thought that I'd owe it all to you!"  she blurted
out, amid a fit of hysterical laughter.  As she laughed long and hard,
another startling realization slowly crept up on her.
        She knew now that she needed to get that person back in her life
somehow, or she was doomed to a path of slow self-destruction.  The
additional irony of that thought made her laugh even harder, bringing
tears to her eyes.
        The tears of laughter soon faded however, to be replaced by tears
of a different kind... tears of sorrow for herself.





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END - The Bitter Taste of Truth - A Fanfic Teaser by V. Coutu.


Comments Welcomed, Flames Extinguished!
coutuva@vecdev.com



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Catch all my 'Fics (and more!) at Water's Edge!
http://home1.gte.net/teseract/archive/Vic

"No, we don't broadcast animation live anymore... it puts too
much of a strain on the Artist's wrists."