Leifker presents...

The Circe Project

part 10

A work of anime fanfiction by Nicholas Leifker

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

It's good to be back...

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

     The young man walked quickly, his body in a cold sweat, though even
he couldn't figure out exactly why.  All he felt was this strange
burning sensation throughout his body, as though his entire body were
being pricked by hot needles.  Unsure of what else to do, and feeling
the fatigue creeping up on him, he made his way to the subway, hoping he
could make it home, or, if need be, to a hospital.

     Things seemed to get even stranger from there.  Even though it was
one of the busier times of the day, the people gave him ample room,
scrunching themselves in order to avoid his touch.  He stopped to ponder
why; was it the beads of sweat on his forehead, or the unnatural shaking
in his hands?  Something about them, strange... he stared at the hands,
struggling to fight off the stars at the peripherary.  

     It was when he realized how different his hands were - smooth,
slender, with slightly lengthened nails - that he began to scream.

     Jamie continued to scream, her throat letting out the anguish from
dream into reality... a reality shaped by the dream's events.  Calming
down enough to gain her wits, she looked around, half-expecting to see
the padded walls of the sanitarium, relieved to find the bedroom she
knew around her.  Her relief turned to frustration, though, as she got a
look at the body covered by her too-large pajamas - the same body she'd
inhabited for only a scant eight days.  

     She got up from the bed, knowing there was no way she was getting
any more sleep tonight.  They'd had to keep her sedated during her
confinement; the nightmare of changing still plagued her dreams, and
probably would for a long time to come.  Strangely enough, a small part
of her was grateful for the nightmare.  The terror let her know she was
still James inside, still a man... not this.  

     Shaking the cobwebs from her head, she walked out to the kitchen,
to make a cup of coffee and to see her messages.  The activity had
always been a comforting one to "him", back in the old days, when he had
a number of contacts from his union work.

     Unfortunately, all she found this time was a lot of disappointment. 
Most of the messages were condolences to Michelle; most people
considered "James" dead, and responded accordingly.  There was one
message, though, which got her attention, primarily because of who it
was addressed to:  Jamie LaBelle, the name she'd more or less adopted
since her change.  As she read the message, she didn't know whether to
laugh or cry.


     Dear Jamie,

     Hello.  My name is Mackie Stingray, and I would like to welcome you
as the newest member of the Jusenkyo Appreciation Society.  This is a
very exclusive club, open only to those who have had their lives
changed, either directly or indirectly, by the Pools of Sorrow.  As a
new member, we at the JAS would like to offer our condolences at your
change, and would like to help.  As such, we are offering a Christmas
Vacation Package for you and your wife at the Takahashi Onsen in lovely
(re. warm) Kyushu.  The ticket and reservation information, as well as
other details, can be found by contacting the number below.  We heartily
recommend you go; the distance from MegaTokyo, even for a few days,
would do both you and your wife good.  

                                 Mackie Stingray
                                 President, JAS

                                 Ranma Saotome
                                 VP/admissions, JAS

P.S. There are other reasons why it would be a good idea for you to be
out of town by Christmas Day.  Things are going to get dangerous for
MegaTokyo over the next couple of days.  -  Mackie


     "James?  What are you doing up?"  Jamie felt her former wife walk
in behind her.  She could sense the hesitation as the hand touched her
shoulder; neither of them had become accustomed to her "new" self.
      
     "Couldn't sleep."  She moved around, to let Michelle read over her
shoulder.  "It seems that the people who got me out of the sanitarium
want me to leave MegaTokyo for the next couple of days.  What do you
think?"

     Michelle looked at the woman who had been her husband.  There was a
critical aspect to the look; they were friends, but she didn't think she
could go further.  "Well... can they be trusted?"

     Jamie shrugged, and ran her fingers through her short blond hair. 
"If it weren't for them, I'd still be rotting in the funny farm.  If
they say it's not a good idea for me to be in MegaTokyo, I'm inclined to
believe them."  She gave a wry grin, a leftover from her old self. 
"Mind if I borrow some of your clothes?  Mine don't exactly fit
anymore..."

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

     Mackie Stingray looked out from the window of Raven's Garage,
finding, as Sylia did all too often, a strange peace in the unnatural
power of the city.  The giant slept for once on this night, its servants
huddled inside for warmth and celebration.  This, along with the icy
sheen that covered the land, left the metropolis stilled, cast in a true
silent night.

     The comparison was not lost to the young leader, and a small voice
inside of her chuckled at the irony.  On this most "holy" of nights,
their small band would face down the devil himself... and possibly cast
themselves and everyone to hell in the process.  Joyous chorus stood to
become requiem, with green wreaths placed to mourn their passing.

     "Mackie?"

     It took a long moment for her to turn around.  Nodoka stood in
the doorway, waiting for her.  Her voice, unnaturally quiet, had a
haunting echo in the chamber.  Mackie smiled weakly, to acknowledge
her presence.

     "It's time, isn't it."  The words were more statement than
question.

     Nodoka nodded.  "Everyone's waiting."  She walked out the door,
indicating for Mackie to follow.

     The six others waiting for them in the living room looked up at
their entrance.  There was a look, a kind of understanding that passed
between them, that spoke of battles won and lost - and the most
important battle to come.  Ranma and Shampoo, both the oldest and newest
of the team, stood together, exchanging small words concerning
insignificant things, while Priss and Leon said nothing, but
communicated more.  Linna leaned against the wall, arms folded, waiting
to get this done and over with.  Nene sat in a corner, readying herself
for the battle with her favorite tool - the computer.  Mackie coughed
once, unsure of her place, then looked each of them in the eye.

     "Everyone... I don't think I need to talk about what's gone before,
or what's at stake here."  She looked down at her feet for a second.  "I
know most of us would rather be somewhere else, safely away from all
this...but it seems we're given little choice in the matter.  If anyone
wants to walk away now, noone will blame you for it."

     The group looked around at each other, a common feeling shared
between them. Linna summed up the feeling neatly for all of them. 
"Where else would we be, Mackie?  We're with our family... where we
belong."

     Mackie nodded, still unsure of herself.  "Okay.  Everyone going,
suit up.  Leon, get the 'wing ready."  She fixed a hard, fierce gaze on
the group, and spoke, her voice never above a whisper.

     "Knight Sabers...sanjo."

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

    For once, Linna Yamazaki was in no hurry to put on her suit.  She
took her time to slip into the softsuit, then went through the armoring
almost in a trance, her moves more habit than anything conscious. Her
eyes seemed to stare into another time, focused on something far away...
and long gone.

     Of all the people collectively known as the Knight Sabers, she had
the least to lose.  There was no man waiting for her to come home, no
real place for her to go once this was done.  Indeed, if it weren't for
the others, she'd probably still be in China, honing her mind and body
to perfection in the serenity of its mountains, a relatively safe
distance from Genom's shadow.  The only reason to think of for fighting
was habit... and family.

     The Knight Sabers were the first real, true family she could
remember since... she didn't want to remember that.  She lived for their
friendship, felt their pain and joy and love as she'd never felt before,
and would gladly live and die for them.  Shampoo's role in the group
made it extra-special: the aged Amazon filled in as a surrogate mother,
helping her through the changes that had come into her life.  If it
weren't for her, she'd have been dead long before, either by her own
hand or Genom's.

     She picked up the helmet, and looked over to her mentor.  Shampoo
stood next to the wall, watching the six prepare for the night's
journey.  Though her face was set in stone, tears fell from her face -
tears of worry and fear.  Linna walked over to her, and kissed her on
the cheek.  

     The old warrior looked startled, but only for a moment.  "Child,
you be careful."

     Linna gave a tight smile.  "I will... Hibachan."  
     
     Shampoo put her arms around her pupil.  "Remember: You last
warrior.  Do us proud, child."

     Linna looked in those eyes one last time before donning the helmet.
The depth behind the dark eyes was breathtaking; she thought it amazing
that one look could say so much.  She fought back her own tears, and
finished her preparations.  She had one last battle to fight... and she
couldn't afford to lose.

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

     The Knightwing lifted from its hangar with a whoosh of power, its
engines tearing the night's silence.  It hovered in the air for a
moment, as though considering whether or not to go on the mission, then
flew off unceremoniously, without fanfare or flair.  It made a long,
almost graceful turn, taking its time to start moving toward the
kilometer-high fortress.

     Nene was, as usual, looking around, choosing sensory input as her
choice of distraction.  She didn't want to think about the mission at
the moment, or its possible consequences; metaphysics was not her
favorite choice of study at times like these.  She spotted Mackie alone,
looking out the window at the city.  The young man/woman seemed so
alone, so away from those she cared for, that the hacker went over to
her, touching a glove to her shoulder.

     "Nodoka?  Oh, it's you, Nene."  The voice was subdued, darkened by
the night.  Nene couldn't see the face, but could well imagine Mackie's
soft, sad eyes, and her lips turned downward into a frown.  "What's
wrong?"

     "Oh, nothing.  I was just wondering what you were looking at - and
what the cylinder on your back was for."

     The dark-suited warrior started for a moment, then relaxed.  She
extended a hand out to the window.  "See for yourself."  

     Nene looked out the window, a chill running down her spine. 
Interspersed among the stores and apartments was a black, shattered mass
of steel and glass, glittering with ice, demolished yet strangely
defiant... the Lady's 633.  They'd spent many good times in that place,
along with some they'd rather forget.  Nene gasped and turned to Mackie,
unsure of what to say.

     "We'd better get ready.  Tower will be here in a minute."  Mackie
seemed only a shadow of who she was, a ghost in a black hardsuit.

     "You still haven't answered my other question, Mackie."  Nene put
her hands on her hips, to show her mock ire.  

     Mackie's voice still rung hollow.  "Largo dies tonight - one way or
another."  Her tone left little as to the purpose of the cylinder.
Before Nene could think of something to say, though, a voice called from
the cockpit.

     "Mackie, get up here.  I think you should see this."  Leon's voice
carried a touch of disbelief, along with skepticism.  The two went up to
join Priss at the front.

     Priss looked up at them as they entered.  "According to our
sensors, the Tower's defenses are completely shut down.  No guns, no
defense grid... and only a handful of boomers, all at the top."  She
gestured to a side monitor, which showed the summit's view... and Largo
standing there, with three indeterminate combat boomers.

     Mackie flipped open her visor, to look Priss in the eye.  "What
should we do?  They're expecting us, that much is certain."  

     Priss smiled grimly.  "The thing stinks of a trap.  On the other
hand... probably the only reason why we won the last time was that we
actually fought on his terms.  Largo may have a lot of power, but he's
also an egotistical bastard, playing with us enough to give us a
chance."

     "So you think we should go in."  It wasn't stated as a question.

     Priss just stared at her.  "We're not going to get another chance,
Mackie.  If we don't go now, he'll just pick us off one by one."

     Mackie looked at the internal chronometer on her suit, and nodded.
"Okay.  Let's get ready then."  She let Priss go to the back first, to
give her the floor with the others.

     "Listen up, everybody.  Defenses are down, and Largo's waiting for
us at the top.  We jump out in thirty seconds, guns primed.  Nobody
fires until I say so; chances are, he's got something up his sleeve.  We
aren't leaving until the mission's accomplished.  Because... we won't
get a second chance."  Priss gripped a metal bar above her head, its
solidity comforting to her at this time.  Like Mackie, she never wanted
to be a leader, but she could - and would - live with it.  She felt the
'wing slow down, in preparation for the drop, then took a deep breath.  

     "NOW!"  The hatch opened, letting the Sabers out of the craft. 
They flew down, eyes open for any deception, the lack of any attack
foreign to their sensibilities.  

     None of the warriors could deny the anger and fear they felt at the
sight of the creature.  Dressed in close-fitting black armor, the "man"
stood sentinel at the summit, ready for their arrival.  His manner and
bearing screamed of supreme confidence - and hinted of the power
beneath.  His pale, almost vampiric skin and blood-red eyes gave him the
appearance of a modern-day grim reaper, or devil.  Priss looked at the
creature, as well as the trio of Dobermans around him, and made the only
choice available - no matter how grating it was on her.

     "Group 1, guard the perimeter.  Blast anything metal that tries to
approach.  Mackie, Nene, you're with me.  And watch the armor; if this
is the same jackass, he's hiding some injuries."  She walked over toward
the self-proclaimed deity, Mackie and Nene on her heels.

     Largo opened his hands wide, in a gesture of peace.  "There is no
need for battle, Priscilla Asagiri.  I am here... to make you an offer."

     Priss was not impressed.  "Offer?  From you?  Don't make me
laugh."  

     The devil smiled.  He had expected such resistance from her. 
"Really, Miss Asagiri.  You should be more patient with me."

     "After what you did to Sylia and Vision?  Not likely."
     
     The hyperboomer looked almost sad for a moment.  "Sylia and Vision,
regrettably, had qualities that the rest of you lack.  They were
leaders, visionaries who would have questioned my authority at every
move.  If they were allowed to live and prosper, they would have
disrupted my plans.  And I will destroy anyone who gets in the way of me
and my vision." 

     He smiled and extended his hand toward them, a gesture which made
them a tad uneasy.  "But, the dead past is precisely that: dead. 
If you come to join me, you can be a part of a glorious future, one 
with lives beyond your wildest dreams.
     
     "Think of the possibilities, if you will.  ETERNAL LIFE.  No war,
no pain, no disease, no filth... none of the refuse that humanity leaves
in its wake.  And all you have to do is lay down your arms... and join
me.  Refuse, and all you 'love', all the transient items you hold
precious, will crumble to dust."  He moved his hand to the other
Sabers.  "Think of them, warrior.  Wouldn't you prefer to see them live
forever, to never know the pain of decay?"

     Priss looked down for a moment, then looked to Mackie.  Fighting
was her role, not negotiation.  For things like this, the brother of one
killed by Largo's madness was their best weapon.

     The matblack hardsuit looked at Priss, then turned to face Largo's
gaze.  "Largo... you just don't get it, do you?  For all your power, for
all that your electronic eyes can see, you are still as blind as a bat."

     She gestured out, to the city behind her.  "You see, humanity has a
magic all its own, a quality you can't capture with your dreams of a
Boomer utopia.  And I would rather rot in hell than see you try to
destroy that magic."  She looked around, to her friends and family. 
"Speaking for all of us, we reject your offer."

     Largo nodded, unsurprised by the answer.  "As you wish."  He
stretched his arm out, trying to touch the sky with his hand.  He seemed
to reach for the Knightwing, currently circling overhead.

     In that instant, Priss' blood froze.  "Leon, get out of there!" 
She ran for Largo, hoping beyond hope that she could stop him in time,
knowing deep inside that the gesture was futile, but also knowing that 
_something_ had to be done.

     "Priss, what are you doing?"  Mackie's shrill voice cut through to
her.  She didn't respond.  All she could see was a solitary target in
front of her.  Largo reached toward her with his other hand, arm weapons
ready to fire.  

     It never happened.  Priss leapt to the right to avoid Largo's
weapons - precisely what the megalomaniac wanted.  A slice of light came
down from the heavens, touching Priss on the helmet, and quickly burning
through.  She didn't even have time to scream.  A moment later, a
similar beam came down and hit the Knightwing, engulfing the craft in a
bright fireball.

     All of the Sabers, Mackie included, were stunned at this turn of
events.  When Sylia died, the brains of the operation had vanished; its
heart died with Priss' passing.  The reluctant leader looked at the
somewhat charred remains, unable to even think a coherent thought.  

     Largo picked up Priss' still-smoking helmet, looking at it with
mild curiosity.  "Such a pity.  She tried in vain to save her lover,
just as she tried to save Sylvie and Anri a year ago.  But, then as
now... she was never quite fast enough."  He turned his gaze over to the
woman in black.  "Do you think you're fast enough?  It's not too late to
join me..."

     Mackie spat out the only words she could comprehend, dark orders of 
vengeance.  "Fry him, Nene."  

     Nene needed little prodding on that measure.  With the equipment
Sylia had given her, she searched for Largo's signature.  Barriers were
pushed aside like veils, working her way to where she thought he would
be... She felt the malignant presence like a beacon in the night, and
sought her way in.  After a mild struggle, she found herself inside,
with access to the hyperboomer's CPU.  The words - the command - came
out like a whisper, or a prayer.

     "Box, activate program Overmind; set to disable and mindwipe. 
Password: Odysseus."

     The effect was instantaneous.  Largo faltered, knocked to his knees
by the slaver program.  He screamed in agony as the conflicting wishes
of his own programming and that of the OMS fought for supremacy.  After
a moment, the light in his eyes, once red, flickered out... and became a
sterile white.  He stood up, fixed a level gaze on his adversaries, and
gave a smile that was almost feral in its confidence.

     "Thank you."    

     And, in that moment, MegaTokyo trembled.

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

Nicholas Leifker
stormwalker@airmail.net
http://http.tamu.edu:8000/~nwl9354
July 27, 1997