Whoever owns Bubblegum Crisis owns it, I know I don't.

C&C appreciated

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Psychosis & Grill Press

      No Regrets
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	A noise brings consciousness forward
	A crash from above.
	The sounds of armored flesh meeting armored flesh.
	Explosions bathe the alley I find myself in a warm orange light. Bits of
debris rain down from above and rattle off dumpsters and trashcans. The
occasional piece reflecting shades of blue in the neon backwash of the
street as a lunge for cover. Overreacting again, the worst any of this
could do is a nasty crack to the head.
	Another explosion, this one at the edge of the rooftop above, and down
comes a hulking blue shape that could be considered humanoid if it wasn't
missing the top half. It lands with a crash at my left and then is still.
Overcoming my shock I move down the alley, moving away from the street,
moving away from the monstrosity of human innovation given form. 
	It's quiet then, just for a moment, almost as though the world has ceased,
and only I am aware of it. I am roused from my thoughts by the sound of
someone hitting the alley floor. Sleek body armor I recognize from the
papers I use as blankets. Another form lands between the suited figure and
me, its landing rattling the fillings in my teeth. It's blue like the legs
nearer the street, and is postured in a way that can only be read as mean.
The cruel, callous type of mean you can only get from a machine. It stops
to reorient itself, to plan an attack. My father would have said he could
hear the gears grinding. I smile at that, but the smile fades as I see the
plan of attack has been thought out, and is being acted on. It opens its
mouth in a way unlike the human form it was modeled after, and the alley is
filled with a low hum that begins to rise in pitch. The armored suit is
moving towards blue, and after a moment I realize so am I. Both of us are
screaming. The suit's is a scream of attack, while mine is that of pure
mindless rage, of denial. I will not allow this machine to harm another
human being, even one I don't know. That wouldn't be right.
	I leap upon the machine, the "boomer," and somehow manage to wrench its
head back. The crimson beam of energy misses the suit by inches, but it is
enough. I make the mistake of relaxing my hold and find myself flying
through the alley, soon to be intercepted by a wall, which in its own way
helps me to the ground. I miss the demise of blue, I'm too busy wondering
where all the blood on the wall came from. My breath rattles in my lungs as
realization sets in, and in a way, I don't regret it. I don't feel any
pain, I don't feel much of anything, and as a lamp burns yellow in my eyes
I give the suit a thumbs-up as the yellow fills my vision.

	
	JR - The Arcadian
	
	mailto:Arcadian@plazma.net
	http://www.plazma.net/users/arcadian

	"oh no..."
		- Cadmium Thunder (many many times)