Hi all...
This is my second story on the FFML, and I'm hoping it'll get a reaction
from a few people.
I started writing this ages ago after a little discussion on
alt.fan.bgcrisis. It's taken Invisible-Pink-Unicorn-only-knows how long
to actually finish, so everyone will have long forgotten the thread
by now.
The basic question I was asking was:
"What if Sylvie and her friends didn't know that they were boomers?"
After all, they were made to be as human-like as possible, and I'm
betting that there were some fairly sick individuals behind the project.
I'm also willing to bet that the kind of person that wants their own sex
slave might actually like the idea of them not knowing.
Think about it: From their point of view, they're being kept against
their will, repeatedly abused, beaten and raped. They'd sure as hell
want to escape and they'd have a damn good reason to be scared (besides
the fact that the Genom execs concerned wouldn't want their sordid
little secrets getting out).
All this is not exactly conducive to a stable psychological condition.
How would they cope with freedom?
How would Sylvie cope with having to kill to keep her friend alive?
How would she be able to trust anyone else?
How would she cope with the truth?
This is (obviously enough) an altered-past 'fic. I hope that it's also
at least slightly thought-provoking.
C&C very much welcome.
<#include std_disclaimer.h>
Bubblegum Crisis : Dreams Of Freedom
-------------------------------------
"Free. At last - I. Am. Free." She played with the words, enjoying
their sound, their portent. Her long, dark hair drifted slightly in
the sea breeze, lit auburn by the dying rays of the sun.
"What?"
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she gazed, almost longingly across the
darkening water, the light shining in her eyes.
"Yeah. The wonders of air pollution. Now come on, let's get going -
I've got a gig in a little while and I need to get things set up."
"Mmm?" she murmured idly, still transfixed by the sunset.
"Hey, Sylvie - you coming?"
"No, not tonight. I've got t... I think I just want to go for a ride."
"OK - your loss. I'll catch you later, then?"
"Uh-huh" another murmur, a little shrug.
Her companion turned to go, her long brown hair cascading across the back
of her red leather jacket. She grabbed her helmet from her bike and
snapped it on, then rode off, engine roaring into the distance.
Sylvie turned reluctantly away from the seafront and wandered
disconsolately back towards her bike, picked up her helmet and disappeared
slowly into the encroaching night.
She slowly removed the cumbersome helmet, shaking her hair in the gentle
breeze. Beneath her, the vast field of light that was the city glared
harshly into her eyes.
She let her gaze drift slowly upwards into the sky, the glittering stars
like a feeble mirror of the world below. Out there was freedom, endless
space... home...
The helmet fell to the ground with a harsh clatter and rolled away down
the hillside.
Home... her friends... Smiling. Laughing. Playing.
Loving...
All around she felt the grasping hands, the heaving, sweaty bodies, the
terror, the pain... the blood...
She could not, would not, must not scream...
Screaming...
Her friends were screaming...
Bleeding...
She was bleeding...
Dying...
Everyone was dying, their blood mingled with her own...
Their blood on her hands.
She dropped, writhing, to the ground, eyes screwed painfully closed, hands
clawing at her face, silent, impotent with fear. Slowly she led her
mind away from the dark places and lay still, breath misting in the
cool air.
She picked herself up and went to grab her helmet from its resting
place. She knew what she had to do.
"Free. I am free" she whispered.
A single tear glistened on her cheek, quickly eclipsed as the dark,
implacable mask fell into place.
She walked slowly through the park. Around her the trees cast long, hazy
shadows from the occasional unbroken lamp, black, skeletal branches reaching
towards the red-lit clouds. The wind was cold on her arms, biting her
through her thin t-shirt. Apart from her, this place was deserted, it seemed.
No real surprise in an area like this.
"Say, babe, what'cha doin' here?" A deep, growling voice from behind startled
her and she jumped slightly as she turned around.
"Don't'cha know it's dang'rous for little girlies to be out past bed-time?"
The man drew a small knife, the blade gleaming slightly in the light. He
loomed over her, his stocky frame seeming almost to grow before her.
She almost turned to run, but stopped short. This was it, then. She had
to. For Anri's sake.
"Ya'll be safe with me, little girlie... and ya'll get a good time too..."
He grunted in pained surprise and doubled over as her foot slammed into his
groin, then was sent sprawling on his back by a lightning-fast kick which
shattered his jaw. The knife skittered away across the concrete.
"Don't you know it's dangerous after dark?" it asked, sardonically.
Priss sat quietly in the darkness of her trailer, grey half-light from
the city filtering in through the dirty windows. Rain drummed steadily,
hypnotically on the roof. It was times like this that she hated - time
alone. Time to think. Time to remember...
It had been a beautiful day - the sun shining, her parents smiling,
the quiet hum of the crowds. The low roar as of some great, awawkening
beast, rumbling, shaking, screaming, falling, crying, bleeding, pleading,
growling, shattering. Then darkness.
Silence.
The silent, mangled bodies of her parents.
Her own voice, screaming...
It had been a beautiful day.
She barely registered waking, curled up on her bed, tears drying on
her cheeks. It was still dark outside, but the light was brighter now,
the clouds breaking slowly. Someone was pounding hard, almost frantically
on the door. Whoever it was had better get the hell away from her.
If it was Leon, he was really going to get it this time...
She staggered to the door and yanked it open wearily.
"Look Leon, just get th..."
Sylvie half-tripped, half-collapsed through the doorway, landing, shaking,
in her arms.
"Sylvie! What the hell happened?"
Her only answer was an incoherent, wracking sob, hands grasping desperately
at her shoulders.
"Come on - get in here, sit down."
She maneuvered the young woman's limp body across to the bed and kicked the
door shut behind her, then sat down next to the huddled figure. She put
her arm around her shoulder and whispered softly in her ear.
"Sylvie, please - what happened? You can tell me - you..."
The hands grabbed her again, harder this time, as Sylvie pulled herself
tightly against her shoulder.
"The blood... the blood... hands... screams... they're coming! They're
coming for me! I can't stop it! Help! Blood!"
Her grip was almost painful now, and she was shuddering violently, almost
catatonic. Priss put her other arm around the girl and pulled her closer,
rocking her gently, feeling her warm tears soaking her shoulder.
"There, there. You're OK now - no-one can hurt you here. You're alright.
Come on, you're safe. Calm down."
She kept up her stream of calming murmurs, hoping that her friend would
eventually calm down enough to talk to her.
After what seemed like an age, Sylvie's crying slowed gently, her grip
softening, her breathing ragged.
"I... I... I... What have I done? Please! Don't leave!"
"Don't worry, no-one's going anywhere until you're calmed down.
Now come on, you can tell me - you know I'm here for you."
"I... It's just... I... I can't be alone! Everyone's gone! All gone!
All my fault!"
She sobbed more violently, gasping for breath.
"There, there, Sylvie. You know it wasn't your fault!"
"But I..."
"Don't worry. You can stay here tonight. You know I won't leave you,
I..."
She was suddenly, powerfully aware of the nearness of her face, could
feel the warm breath on her neck. There was something in those eyes...
desperate, vulnerable, longing... wanting...
"I think I..."
Their lips met softly, her heart accelerating suddenly. She felt the
arms around her tightening, pulling her nearer, the kiss deepening.
She shivered slightly, her body tingling.
Sylvie felt her hands running soflty along her back, brushing her skin.
Hands. Cold, clammy, grasping... Lips. Pushing, forcing... hands...
bodies, sweaty, pushing, grinding, screaming....
"NO!"
Priss felt herself flung violently into the wall as Sylvie leapt from
the bed, screaming, eyes wild with terror. She slammed the door wide,
almost ripping it from the hinges, and fled into the pre-dawn streets.
The door banged quietly in the breeze. Priss sat, huddled in the corner,
tears streaming down her face.
"Why?"
The corridors stretched, dark and labyrinthine, before her. An occasional
rain-streaked window broke the oppressive gloom slightly with the wan
orange-tinted light from the streets below. She walked quietly,
purposefully through the unending maze of offices, listening to the
sound of her own breath, unnaturally loud in the silence.
Up ahead, light shone faintly underneath the door. This was it, then.
Why did there have to be someone here? Please, don't let it be him.
Don't let it be him.
The door opened quietly, revealing a large, middle-aged man sat hunched
at his desk, a small lamp casting long shadows in the gloom. He looked
up in irritation, the light casting his face in hideous aspect.
No! Not him! Run! You saw what he did to the others! Run!
Sylvie felt herself frozen on the edge of flight, caught in front of
her onrushing fate.
"Who's there? What are you doing here this late?" The man stood up,
walking around the desk and blinking his tired eyes in an attempt to
pick out the figure in the doorway.
She walked forward slowly, purposefully.
What are you doing? No! Please! Not again! Don't! No!
The mask fell, and with it, silence. It looked into the staring, fear-
widened eyes of the man before it.
He gasped slightly, fearfully. "Wh... What are you d..."
"Death. Yours." came the reply, monotone. Lifeless. Terrifying.
He gazed up into her - its eyes and saw... nothing. Darkness. Oblivion.
She withdrew the knife, wiping it on the side of the blood-stained shirt,
and turned towards the side of the room. An array of filing cabinets lined
the wall, starkly outlined in the shadows. She quickly selected one and
flipped through the folders until she found the code block she needed.
There. She unwrapped the small datadisk and slipped it into the front of
her biking suit. Now to get out of here...
She found herself clinging to the back of her bike, racing along the
highway. The rain was running down her visor, casting haloes of light
around the streetlamps overhead. There was something inside her overalls.
She lifted a gloved hand to remove the offending object.
Small. Square. Datadisk. Files. Room. Body. Blood. No! She... it
had done it again. Why wouldn't it stop? Why? What if it wanted her
friends as well? Anri? Priss?
The bike hit a bump in the road, wobbling and jarring her back to reality
as she wrestled the machine upright. It didn't matter. She had what they
needed. Soon they would be free. Free from... it.
The rain lashed against the rattling window as she unpacked the
computer. She quickly unfolded it on the desk and grabbed hungrily for
the disk, her stomach tightening in anticipation.
She slipped the disk into the drive, then stopped suddenly, shivering
slightly.
"What am I worried about?" She asked herself aloud, as though it might
somehow produce an answer that she did not have. "It's not like Genom
are going to put themselves out over a blood synthesis procedure".
The disk clicked audibly into the drive which whirred as she accessed
the datafile.
"Free. At last".
The text scrolled slowly up the screen, casting a ghastly greenish light
on her face.
Genom Inc. Boomer Technical Reference Manual
Model 33-S Advanced Human Relations Unit
She quickly ejected the disk - obviously it wasn't what she was after.
Damn! Still, she checked the reference code anyway, just to be sure.
She gently pushed the disk back in and began to read. The world around
her faded into obvlivion.
The screen flickered and died. She sat for a long time, her head in her
hands, eyes burning. She felt tired... so tired... sleep...
A loud knock at the door startled her from her stupor. She rose slowly
and walked unsteadily towards it. The door opened.
"Sylvie... do you... what's wrong?"
A smile spread across her face, somehow discordant. Her eyes seemed
dull and lifeless.
"Nothing, Priss... nothing at all. I'm free. At last."
She reached out and put her hand behind Priss' head, pulling her near.
Their breath mingled, warm on her face.
"Nothing." A whisper, unheard.
Priss awoke with a start, shivering. The door lay open, banging in the
wind. She could hear the rain all around... outside... inside.
She leapt quickly out of the bed, grabbing some clothes from the floor
and ran into the hallway.
There. The rain dripped in from an open door above her as she ran up
the stairs. She stepped out onto the roof, ignoring the biting cold
against her exposed skin, feeling only a different, more pervasive chill.
She looked around the empty rooftop, half-blinded by the driving storm,
then ran to the edge, her heart pounding, stomach clenched tight.
"SYLVIE!" A plaintive howl of despair torn from her, vanishing into the
darkness. She looked down, unseeing, into the bleak, dirty streets
far below.
"Why?"
A feminine whisper, somehow louder than the storm:
"Free. At last, I am free"
--------
This ending is slightly more open (and less dark) than I had originally
written (all by removing a couple of words...) - decide for yourself
what happens next. I have a pretty good idea, but it's not very happy.
Until (if I ever get into another writing mood) next time...