Bubblegum Conflict Episode 1.3

Bubblegum Conflict



Shadows of the Knight Part One



Myles L. Edmundson



         Catty stepped down the hall toward the bedrooms, stopping in front of a particular door with the name, “Priss” prominently displayed on a hand painted, wooden sign on the door.  Catty knocked softly on the door, and heard a drowsy moan in response.  Catty opened the door and stepped into a room which could only be the personal bedroom of a rock singer.  The walls were lined with posters of various rock singers, rock groups, and rock albums.  The furniture in this room consisted simply of a futon bed, a dresser, a full length mirror, a writing desk, and a small entertainment center with a plasma screen TV, DVD/Blu-Ray Player, and CD Player sitting on it.  In one corner stood a disheveled hodgepodge of a stack of books, magazines, and mangas.  Near this stack of printed material stood a red and white electric guitar and a small amplifier.  Shirts, blouses, pants, skirts, shorts, bras, panties, thongs, socks and shoes were strewn haphazardly about the room.  A poster of the cover of the Beatles' album Abbey Road was prominently displayed at the head of the futon bed, with a poster of Help next do it, and a poster of A Hard Day's Night on the back side of the door.  As Catty stepped gingerly through the room, she spotted the writing desk.  It was strewn with papers and music sheets, most of which were torn up or crumpled.  A small display shelf hung on the wall above the writing desk.  On this shelf stood a collection of action figures.  One of John Lennon playing a guitar, one of George Harrison also playing a guitar, one of Ringo Starr playing his trademark Beatles drum kit, one of Stephen Clarke playing a bass guitar, and one of Pat Benetar singing into a microphone.  The action figures of the three former Beatles and the one former member of Def Leppard had scaled microphones on stands in front of them.  The figures were arranged on the shelf as if they were standing on a stage.  A small, “Fire Bomber”  trash can stood on the floor next to the desk.  The trash can was overflowing with papers.  Catty spotted a used home pregnancy test prominently sitting atop the pile of trash that was just barely sitting inside the trash can.  Catty shook her head and stepped over to the futon bed, being careful not to step on the homogeneous mix of both dirty and clean clothes scattered about the room.  Catty knelt on the floor next to the futon, and studied the young woman sleeping in it.  She was nineteen, though this was something Catty knew, since the girl looked to be in her early twenties.  She was sleeping on her back, her long brown hair fanned out on the pillow about her head.  She had an arm thrown across her forehead, and the other on her stomach in a curious manner.  Catty could tell from the disheveled condition of the sheets and blankets that the girl in the futon had not slept well, and suspected that the used pregnancy test had something to do with it.  Catty stared at the girl, and as she watched her sleep, thought back to the day she had first met this troubled teen.

         It was 2025, the Tokyo Police Department's headquarters building, one of the few still standing in the wake of the Second Great Kanto Earthquake, was a scene of chaos.  People crowded nearly every room, all shouting at any police officer they saw.  Mixed in with this crowd were Mikado and Catty Stingray.  As experts in cybernetics and boomer technology, Mikado and Catty were working overtime with the police department to quell the many boomer malfunctions that were even now occurring throughout the city.  They pushed their way through the crowd toward the make-shift boomer lab that had been set up in one of the interrogation rooms.  With astonishing suddenness, a young female police officer grabbed Catty by the arm.  Catty turned to regard the officer.  She noted the officer's name badge, which read “Malso.”  Officer Malso was a strong looking woman with a head full of thick dark hair, which was barely contained in the bun that her duties required her to wear her hair in.  He large, dark eyes were filled with a concern and more than her share of stress.

         “Doctor Nebulart,” Officer Malso said, speaking over the noise of the crowd.

         “Yes,” Catty said, “What can I do for you, Officer Malso?”

         “I'm sorry to take you away from your work,” Officer Malso said, “but one of the street patrols just brought in an orphan.  We can't get her to talk.  I know you're not a child psychiatrist, but I thought since you had children, you might be able to get her to talk.”

         “I'll certainly see what I can do,” Catty said.

         Officer Malso led Catty to an interrogation room, where a twelve-year old girl was sitting dejectedly at the end of the interrogation table.  A plate of rice crackers and a cup of hot tea sat ignored in front of her.  The girl's long brown hair was tangled and dirty.  Her warm brown eyes were filled with tears as she cried softly.  She wore a “Macross 7” t-shirt, a pleated knee skirt, and slip on shoes, all of which were covered in dust and dirt.  She had a bandaged cut on her knee.  Curiously this cut was the only visible injury the girl seemed to have suffered.  The girl sat staring down at the plate of rice crackers and the cup of tea without seeing them.  Catty looked at the girl and found her own eyes beginning to fill with tears.  She was absently aware of Officer Malso slipping a file folder in her hands, and walking away, shutting the door behind her.  Catty moved over to  the table, reading the file as she did.  She noted that the girl's name was Priscilla Sachiko Asagiri, that she was twelve years old, and that her parents were confirmed as deceased as a result of their apartment building collapsing.  This girl had only survived because she had been playing outside with her friends in a nearby playground.  The cut on her knee was from where her friends had knocked her down to keep her from running into the collapsing building to get her parents.  The file indicated that this girl was not suffering any health problems, but had so far refused to speak to anyone.  Catty set the file down on the table, gingerly cleared her dress, and sat down in the chair next to the girl.

         “Hello,” Catty said, in as warm a tone as she could muster, “My name is Doctor Catherine Nebulart-Stingray.  I see from your file that your name is Priscilla Asagiri, twelve years old, and attending Shinjuku Junior High School.  I...um...also see that your parents were killed in the earthquake.  Would you like to talk about that, Priscilla?”

         Priscilla said nothing, simply continuing to stare at the plate of rice crackers.  Catty studied the girl in silence.  Her cybernetic, android eyes scanned the girl's body for any health problems that the harried emergency medics might have missed.  Catty could sense no physical medical anomalies, brain damage, or neural abnormalities that might cause mental health problems.  The girl was simply traumatized.

         “If you're not talking to me because you think I'm just another police officer, then you can relax,” Catty said, “I'm not a police official.  I'm just a cybernetics expert.  I actually work for Cyber-Dynamics Limited.  I work with the police as a consultant in boomer technology to help them solve crimes and malfunctions.  The police thought you might be more comfortable talking to me than one of their officers.  Won't you talk to me Priscilla?”

         “Priss,” the girl said, barely audible.

         “What's that,” Catty asked.

         “Priss,” the girl said with more volume, though still softly, “Nobody calls me Priscilla, except my mother.”

         “Well,” Catty said, warmly, “May I call you Priss?”

         “Yes,” Priss said absently.

         “Well then, you may call me, Catty,” Catty said, “I'm pleased to meet you.”

         “Yeah,” Priss said, not looking up from the plate of rice crackers.

         “Would you like to talk about your parents,” Catty asked.  Priss suddenly shot Catty an angry look.

         “What is there to talk about,” Priss shouted, looking thoroughly hurt, “they're dead!  Our apartment building fell on them.  And I'm left behind with no one to care about me!”

         “Don't you have any family, Priss,” Catty asked, not effected in the least bit by Priss' display of emotion, “No one you can be sent to live with?”

         “No,” Priss said, resuming her staring at the plate of rice crackers, “My grandmother Ukyo used to live in Nerima, but she died two years ago.”

         “Was she your father's mother,” Catty asked.

         “She was my mother's mother,” Priss said, “my father had no family.  They all died.”

         “Then you're an orphan,” Catty said, “I know how you feel.”

         “How can you know how I feel,” Priss demanded, looking into Catty's eyes and obviously looking for understanding.

         “I'm something of an orphan as well,” Catty said, telling Priss all the truth she could, “you see, I woke up in a hospital a number of years ago, without any memories of who I was or where I came from or who my family was.  All I could remember was my name.  From that day to this, I have searched for my family and the place where I was born, but I've never been able to learn anything.  So I know what it's like to be an orphan.”

         “Don't you have a family,” Priss asked, strangely interested in Catty.

         “I have a family now,” Catty said, “I met a nice man, and got married.”

         “Do you have any kids,” Priss asked.

         “My husband and I took in our niece and nephew when their father died in an accident,” Catty said, “my niece is only three years older than you are, Priss.”

         “Catty-san,” Priss said, “What will the police do with me?”

         “If you have no living relatives, they'll have no choice but to surrender you to an orphanage,” Catty explained.

         “I wish I could move in with you,” Priss said, “You're a nice lady.”

         “Well, thank you, Priss,” Catty said, “that's a very sweet thing to say.”

         At that moment, Mikado entered.  He was clearly looking for Catty.

         “Catty-chan, we still have that malfunctioning waitress boomer to examine,” Mikado said, “What are you doing in here?”

         “Mikado-kun,” Catty said, “I'd like you to meet my new friend, Priss.  Priss, this is my darling husband, Doctor Mikado Stingray.”

         Priss looked up at Mikado and seemed a bit afraid of him.  Mikado sat down next to Priss and graced her with a gracious and charming smile.

         “Hello, Priss-chan,” Mikado said, “It's nice to meet you.  Would you mind if I take Dr. Nebulart with me?  We have a lot of important work to do.”

         “Priss would like to move in with us,” Catty said.

         “Oh really,” Mikado said, “and why is that, Priss-chan?”

         “Catty-san is really nice,” Priss said, “and she says you're a nice man, Mikado-sensei.  I'd rather move in with you than go to an orphanage.”

         “She seems to have latched onto me,” Catty explained softly to Mikado, “It's a coping mechanism.  She knows, on some psychological level, that her parents are gone and that she needs surrogate parents in order to maintain proper mental health.  Since I came in here and showed her a bit of friendship, she has seen in me a possible surrogate mother.”

         “What happened to her family,” Mikado asked, looking at Catty.

         “The few living family members she had were killed in the earthquake, except her maternal grandmother who died two years ago, of lung cancer, according to her file,” Catty explained, “the police asked me to talk to her because they hoped, with my experience with Sylia and Mackie, that I might get her talking.”

         “Do you want to take her in,” Mikado asked.

         “More than that,” Catty said, “I want to adopt her.”

         “Why adopt her,” Mikado asked.

         “Mikado-kun,” Catty said, “You know I'll never be able to have a baby.  Priss has no parents.  We could be new parents for her.”

         Mikado looked at Priss, studying her, and looking her deep in the eyes.  What he saw there, he kept to himself.  As he looked at Priss, he began to smile, and the longer he looked at her, the wider he smiled.

         “Well, the city would have a hard time finding a foster family for her,” Mikado said, “she'd most certainly go to an orphanage.  I'm sure we could convince the city to expedite an adoption procedure...so, I've got no problem with adopting her.  Besides, she could learn a thing or two from me.”

         “What are you an expert in,” Priss asked.

         “Well, Priss-chan,” Mikado said, “in addition to being an expert in cybernetics and boomer psychology, I'm also a master ninja.”

         “WOW,” Priss exclaimed in excitement, “You're a REAL ninja?”

         “I certainly am,” Mikado said, “and if you move in with us, I could teach YOU how to be a ninja too, but it has to be our little secret.”

         “I wanna move in with you guys,” Priss cried in excitement.

         “Well,” Mikado said, “why don't you eat the rice crackers and drink the tea that the police were nice enough to give you, and Dr. Nebulart and I will talk to the police about letting you move in with us.  And we'll talk about them letting us adopt you, so we can be your new mom and dad.”

         Priss suddenly jumped out of her chair and hugged Mikado.  In the days following that first meeting, Mikado and Catty pushed to adopt Priss.  Eventually they were permitted to adopt Priss, though Priss refused to change her surname to Stingray.  She told her new parents that she wanted to keep her original surname of Asagiri to honor her birth parents.

         Back in 2032, Catty knelt on the floor next to Priss' futon, watching her adopted daughter sleep.  Priss moaned uncomfortably and turned toward Catty.  She suddenly opened her eyes and looked into Catty's eyes as if she had become aware of Catty's presence in that instant.  Priss sat up and threw her arms around Catty, hugging her tightly.  While she hugged Priss, Catty noticed that Priss had slept naked again.

         “Momma,” Priss cried.

         “What's wrong, Priss-chan,” Catty asked, running her fingers through Priss' hair.

         “I had another pregnancy scare,” Priss cried.

         “That home pregnancy test says you aren't pregnant,” Catty said.

         “Yeah,” Priss sniffled, burying her face in Catty's shoulder, “I thought I was pregnant, because my period was late, so I got a home pregnancy test.  Oh Momma, you don't know how glad I was to see that pregnancy test come out negative.”

         “Priss-chan,” Catty said, “how many times do I have to tell you?  If you would simply use contraceptives when you have sex, you wouldn't have these pregnancy scares.”

         “I know,” Priss said, “I know.  I've got an appointment with my gynecologist today to get a birth control implant.”

         “Good idea, Priss,” Catty said, “you won't have to worry about getting pregnant, and if you ever decide that you actually want to have children of your own, you simply get the implant removed.”

         “Are you mad at me, Momma,” Priss asked.

         “No dear,” Catty said, “you're my dear daughter, I can't be angry with you.”

         “Please, don't tell Papa,” Priss said, “I wouldn't want him to be disappointed in me.”

         “You know I won't tell your father anything we talk about,” Catty said, “Now, breakfast is ready.  Come eat something, dear.  You'll feel better with something in your stomach.”

         “Besides a baby,” Priss said, “speaking of having babies in our stomachs...how are you feeling, Momma?”

         As she said this, Priss tenderly touched Catty's still flat belly.  Catty smiled at this, and placed her own hand over Priss' hand.

         “I'm fine, Priss,” Catty said, “So far, I've not had any morning sickness today.”

         “While I was at Toshiro's Tea Garden last night,” Priss said, “I heard about a rumor about two delivery workers that had their delivery truck wrecked, and then the delivery workers themselves were killed and the boomers they were hauling were destroyed.  That was Papa, wasn't it?”

         “What makes you think your father had anything to do with that,” Catty asked.

         “Because, Papa taught me to trust my instincts,” Priss said, “and I knew in my heart that Papa was the one who killed that delivery team.  Am I right?”

         “You must never tell anyone,” Catty said, “but, yes, he killed that delivery team.”

         “Why,” Priss asked.

         “Because they were hauling terrorist boomers,” Catty said, “We don't know where the boomers were going.  We're hoping that the data disk he discovered will provide us with some clues as to where they were going.”

         “I want to help Papa,” Priss said.

         “No, Priss,” Catty said adamantly.

         “Why not,” Priss demanded, “Papa trained me in the ninja arts.  I can fight just as well as Papa can.  You heard him tell me that.”

         “It's not that I don't think you can hold your own in a fight,” Catty said, “it's because, I can't allow you to put yourself into the kind of danger your father will be putting himself through.  He's fighting a personal war against the evil that took his brother away from us.  I'm afraid it's a war that you cannot be involved in, Priss-chan.”

         “So he's fighting to avenge Sylia's dad,” Priss cried, “How can you say that I can't be involved in Papa's crusade against the evils in this city?  Especially after you welcomed me into this family wholeheartedly!  Am I suddenly not part of the family?”

         “Priss, I never said such a thing,” Catty said, “I love you so much that I may just as well have given birth to you myself!  And every day that I carry this unborn baby in my womb reminds me that you're also my baby, and I would never forgive myself if you joined your father in his personal war, and got killed.”

         “Momma, I want to help Papa fight,” Priss said, “Please!  Let me join Papa!”

         “It isn't my decision,” Catty said, “you'll have to speak to your father.”

         “I will,” Priss said.

         A moment of awkward silence passed between the two women.  They each looked into the other's eyes.  Priss looked into Catty's eyes finding nothing but a mother's love for her dearest daughter.  Catty, nervously stroking her flat belly, looked into Priss' eyes, finding that her adopted daughter was determined.

         “I never knew just how much I meant to you, Momma,” Priss said, after they had stared at each other.

         “When I adopted you, Priss,” Catty said, “You needed a mother and father, and I wanted a baby of my own.  I did not know then that I was fully capable of having a baby of my own.  And yet, now that I AM carrying a baby of my own in my womb, makes me wish I had carried you in my womb as well.  I feel some bond with the baby that's growing inside me, though she's far too small for me to even feel her.  I wish I had that same bond with you, Priss.”

         “We do, Momma,” Priss said, “You connected with me that day we met at the police station.  We have that bond you want.  Can't you have faith in the training your husband instilled in me?”

         “I have faith in my husband and his training in the ninja arts,” Catty said, “but that does not prevent me from feeling a mother's fear that if my baby girl goes out to fight the good fight along side her father, that she might not come back alive!”

         “I won't get killed,” Priss said, “I swear.”

         “You still have to talk to your father, Priss-chan,” Catty said, “I can't make the decision for him.  I wasn't going to tell you this, but since you are determined to help your father, I must urge you to convince your father to allow you to join him.  He needs help.”

         “Why,” Priss asked, “has something happened?”

         “No,” Catty said, “your father and I intended to go out and fight evil as a team, but then we discovered that I'm pregnant, and that convinced your father to sideline me until after the baby is born.  Now he's determined to carry on his fight alone.  I don't want you to risk your life for his fight against evil, but if you want to, I won't stop you.  Still, it must be your father's decision.”

         “Okay, I'll ask him,” Priss said.

         “Okay,” Catty said, once again her cheerful morning self, “get dressed and come eat breakfast.”

         “Okay, Momma,” Priss said.

         Catty got up and gingerly stepped from the room.  She returned to the kitchen to find only Sylia still sitting at the breakfast table.

         “Where's Mackie,” Catty asked.

         “The bathroom,” Sylia said.

         “I'm sure,” Catty said, sounding suspicious.

         “MACKIE, YOU SICK PERVERT,” came Priss' outraged bellowing from the direction of the bedrooms, “I'M GONNA KILL YOU!!!!!”

         Presently Mackie came running into the kitchen, followed quite closely by Priss, who swung a bamboo shanai practice sword at him, clearly intent on beating him senseless with it.  Priss was wearing a button down shirt, which hung open in the front and showed off her naked breasts, and the lacy red thong she wore.  The instant Priss pursued Mackie into the kitchen, their chase was abruptly halted by a pair of strong hands that grabbed Mackie's shirt collar and a handful of Priss' hair.  Instantly Priss and Mackie stopped dead in their tracks.  As one, Priss and Mackie turned their heads and found themselves looking straight into the vaguely Japanese face of Mikado Stingray.  Mikado glared at them.

         “What's going on here,” Mikado growled.

         “Papa, Mackie was trying to see me naked again,” Priss said.

         “Is this true, Mackie,” Mikado asked, looking sternly at his nephew.

         “Yes, Uncle,” Mackie admitted, looking down.

         “Well, since you have so much energy this morning that you can peep at your cousin,” Mikado said, “You certainly have enough energy to practice your ninth, eleventh, and fifteenth open handed katas.”

         “Yes, Uncle,” Mackie said, knowing better than to argue with his uncle.  Mikado watched as Mackie trudged out to the terrace to practice the three katas that Mikado had ordered him to practice.  Priss smirked at Mackie, satisfied that she had been avenged for the gross offense of having her young cousin get a free peek at her naked body.  That is until she noticed Mikado glaring at her.

         “As to you, young lady,” Mikado said, “Your display of temperament is shameful.”

         “Papa, he was behaving like a pervert,” Priss protested.

         “Only a fool resorts to violence when there are other alternatives to fighting,” Mikado said.

         “But Papa,” Priss said.

         “Next time, find a way to work this problem out with Mackie without trying to beat him to death,” Mikado said, “and since you have your shanai out you can think about what I've said, while you run through the seventeenth sword kata and Kubotai.”

         “Kubotai,” Priss cried, sounding as if she had been asked the impossible, “I've never been good at Kubotai.”

         “You are just fine at Kubotai,” Mikado replied, “you just need to practice it.  If you haven't finished it by the time I've finished my breakfast, I'll come out and see where you're having problems.”

         “Yes, Papa,” Priss growled, and then she trudged out to the terrace, grumbling as she did so.

         “When will they learn,” Sylia commented.

         “They will learn,” Mikado said, “when the lesson finally sinks into their thick skulls.”

         “Did you sleep well, Uncle,” Sylia asked, knowing that he had really been up half the night.

         “I slept well enough to be properly rested,” Mikado said, “which is more than I can say about you, Sylia-chan.  I understand that you were up half the night worrying about your grand opening today.”

         “Can you blame me, Uncle,” Sylia asked, “I'm opening my own business today.  I can't help worrying about the Silky Doll doing too little business.”

         “Don't you have confidence in your skills as a businesswoman,” Mikado asked.

         “Yes, Uncle,” Sylia said.

         “Then use the skills you have learned,” Mikado said, “and the profit will take care of itself.”

         “I understand, Uncle,” Sylia said.

         In a small boomer repair shop in Yokohama's mostly abandoned warehouse district, a brawny man stood at a workbench in the back of the repair shop.  The man was busy trying to repair a broken mannequin-type waitress boomer.  From the trembling of his hands as he worked on the boomer's brain with a tool, it was obvious that this man was nervous.  Presently another, equally brawny man came into the work room. This man was clearly terrified.

         “Hank,” the newcomer said, in a heavy and distinct New York accent, “Bonnie and Jake are dead!  They was havin' sex in the truck, when someone killed them both, wrecked the truck, then blew up the boomers.”

         “I know, Vinnie,” said Hank, speaking in the same New York accent, “And there ain't nothin' I can do about it!”

         “But what about the customer,” Vinnie asked, “they won't like that their merchandise was destroyed.  And if we don't deliver the terrorist boomers they paid us for, they'll take it out of our asses.”

         “Relax,” Hank said, “All we have to do is finish building the backups that Bonnie programmed.”

         “That is very fortunate for you, Mr. Oliver,” said a young man's voice speaking Japanese from beyond the workroom door.  Hank and Vinnie stepped out of the workroom into the shop's front room.  There beyond the reception counter, in the sparsely decorated waiting room was a well dressed, and obviously Japanese man.  In an age where the only way to tell if someone was Japanese was by having a Japanese name, a man who actually looked Japanese was a rarity, a testament to the careful breeding of this man's family, efforts on their part to ensure that they at least would remain purely Japanese.  This obviously Japanese man was dressed in a crisp, white suit, a red shirt, and a black tie.  He wore a distinct tie pin depicting a skull in front of a mountain.  The sight of this symbol was enough to set Hank and Vinnie shivering with terror.  The man had his hands in his pockets as he strode around the waiting room, looking at the out of date magazines on the tables, and the piles of useless and meaningless pamphlets on the counter.

         “Mu...Mister Shinoyama,” Vinnie stammered, “wha...what a p...p...pleasant surprise.”

         “Spare me your sniveling, Mr. Salvatore,” Mr. Shinoyama said, “You're just waisting my time.  My father wants to know where his terrorist boomers are.”

         “Well, Mr. Shinoyama,” Vinnie said, “we...had a bit of a problem...wi...with our d...delivery system!”

         Mister Shinoyama strode casually over to Vinnie.  Rounding the counter, Mr. Shinoyama took his right hand out of his pocket.  The dim light of the waiting room glinted off the metal of his chrome plated cyber hand.  Mister Shinoyama touched the long, clawed tip of the cyber hand's index finger to the soft fleshy area of Vinnie's chin.

         “I know all about your delivery team getting killed by,” Mr. Shinoyama paused for dramatic effect, “a vanishing murderer, who impaled your whore while she had sex with your weasel-faced man, and then cut the weasel man's throat.  Perhaps this shadow killer knew what they were carrying.  My father does not care!  He wants what he paid for, not excuses.  It is fortunate that your whore programmed backup units.”

         “She...she always insisted on building backups, in case the cops found the primary units,” Vinnie said, clearly uncomfortable with Mr. Shinoyama's cyber hand's claw tipped finger poking into the soft part of his chin.

         “My father has instructed me to tell you,” Mr. Shinoyama said, “that you have until midnight to deliver the backup units.  If not, your lives will end...horribly.”

         To punctuate his threat, Mr. Shinoyama drew a nickel plated, ivory handled pistol from his coat, with his left hand.  The pistol was polished to a mirror shine and it's ivory handle gleamed.  He fired a single shot, through the head of the waitress boomer that Hank had just been working on.

         “Have I made myself clear,” Mr. Shinoyama asked.

         “Y...yes, sir,” Hank and Vinnie said in chorus.

         “Good,” Mr. Shinoyama said, returning his pistol to his coat.  He turned and walked out of the repair shop.

         “Vinnie,” Hank said, “break out Bonnie's backups.  We gotta get them finished by nightfall.”

         “Yeah,” Vinnie cried, as he ran into the workroom.

         That afternoon, Priss entered the Silky Doll.  The shop was small and intimate.  A line of bins full of bras and panties of a variety of styles and colors lined one wall, and racks of hanging bras, panties, and lingerie of various sorts and styles were clustered about the store.  On the walls were mounted large spheres which were used to display various panties.  Priss walked around, making a show of stopping at a bin of thongs and looking through them.  After several minutes of picking up thongs and looking at their colors and sizes, Priss picked out several thongs, and strode up to the checkout counter, where Sylia stood, gracing her with an all business smile.  Priss dropped her handful of thongs on the counter and smiled.

         “Will this be all for you today, Priss-chan,” Sylia asked.

         “You know about Papa's...activities,” Priss whispered as Sylia folded the panties she was buying.

         “Yes,” Sylia whispered in response.

         “What are you going to do about it,” Priss asked.

         “I'm going to ask Uncle to permit me to join his efforts,” Sylia said.

         “So am I,” Priss said.

         “Sisters together,” Sylia asked.

         “Sisters together,” Priss replied, “When?”

         “Tonight,” Sylia said, “when he's preparing to go out for the evening.  That will be 3500¥”

         “I'll see you tonight,” Priss said, as she handed Sylia the stated payment amount, and left.

         Meanwhile, Catty and Mikado walked through their penthouse.  They stopped next to a particular wrought iron candle wall sconce.  Catty reached up and pulled the sconce, which rotated toward her and stopped at 45 degrees with a click.  Presently a section of the door slid away from them, and rotated out of sight.  They stepped though the door and it closed behind them, the wall sconce rotating back to its original, upright position.  Inside the concealed door, Catty and Mikado found a spiral staircase going down.  They stepped down the stairs, which emptied into a small room with a table in the middle.  This table was actually a large, cylindrical supercomputer that Catty had designed and built herself.  It had a single operator's chair and console.  Catty sat down at the console and began typing at the keys, which were set into two half spheres within easy reach of her hands.

         “The data disk, if you please, my love,” Catty said sweetly.

         “But of course, my darling wife,” Mikado said with equal sweetness as he dropped the disk into Catty's hand.

         Catty slid the disk into a data disk reader set into her console, and began typing on the keys.  Her typing speed was well beyond human norms.  As she typed, a series of lenses set into the center of the table began glowing.  The lenses glowed projecting a virtual monitor, which displayed lines of text, which scrolled past far faster than was possible for a human to read.  Catty, who was not human, was fully capable of reading it, read the text as it zipped past, and typed as she read.

         “It will take several moments to decipher this,” Catty explained.

         “What do you think is on it,” asked Mikado.

         “It would be useless to speculate on what is on this disk before I've fully deciphered its contents,” Catty said.

         After several moments, Catty stopped typing, the text on the virtual monitor settled into a series of meaningless text.

         “What's wrong,” Mikado asked.

         “I've deciphered the code, but it appears to be incomplete,” said Catty, “I would estimate only half the code is present.”

         “Meaning the rest is at that boomer repair shop,” Mikado said, “I'll suit up and go there.”

         “And finish off the rest of the street techs,” Catty said.

         “Exactly,” Mikado said.

         Mikado and Catty left the hidden computer room.  They walked across the terrace to the cylindrical section of the building.  As Catty approached the blank wall of the columnar section, a previously hidden panel opened, revealing a small lens.  The lens scanned Catty's body head to toe.  The keypad gave out a beep, and then a door opened, which had looked like part of the blank wall.  Inside the previously hidden door was an elevator.  Catty and Mikado stepped into the elevator and Catty tapped a key sequence into the elevator's control panel.  The door closed and the elevator started down.

         The elevator opened, revealing Sylia and Priss standing just beyond the door in the corridor.  Mikado stepped toward them, clearly angry at his daughter and niece discovering his secrets.

         “How did you two get in here,” Mikado demanded, clenching a fist.

         “You trained us in the arts of the ninja, Uncle,” Sylia said, “Is it so strange that once we learned of your nightly activities, we discovered your hidden base, in the sub-basement of this building.”

         “You should not be involved in this,” Mikado hissed angrily, “neither of you!”

         “You're avenging my father's death,” Sylia said, “how can you say that I'm not involved?”

         “This is not for revenge,” Mikado said, “Otherwise, Katsuhito's killers would be dead already.  This is about fighting the evil that Genom supports in this city.”

         “All the more reason for you to accept our help, Uncle,” Sylia said, “you can't do this all alone.”

         “And why not,” Mikado said.

         “Because, like it or not, you have our help,” Priss said, “mine and Sylia's.  You've trained us in the ninja arts, and we're ready to fight.”

         “I taught you the art, so that my mother's skills would not be lost,” Mikado said, “not so you two could become vigilantes fighting this city's evil.”

         “We know about your secrets, Uncle,” Sylia said, “and like it or not, we're going to be a part of your little secret organization...or did you think you needed only Aunt Catty and Mackie?”

         “How did you know about Mackie,” Mikado asked.

         “Who do you think let us down here,” Priss said.

         “Mackie only joined me so that your aunt could teach him about cybernetics,” Mikado said, “he did not join to fight.”

         “Well, we're joining to fight,” Sylia said, “you have one extra suit back there.  One of us can wear it when you go out tonight on your mission.”

         “Out of the question,” Mikado said, “it was not built for you.  It was built for your aunt, and she can't use it because of her pregnancy.”

         “And remodeling it to fit one of you would require practically building it again from scratch,” Catty said, “and if I had to do that, I would rather just build you each your own hardsuit.”

         “I'm willing,” Sylia said.

         “Me too,” Priss said.

         “Are you two prepared to kill,” Mikado asked, “I don't take prisoners, nor tie them up and leave them for the police.  I kill those I come up against.”

         “Why won't you turn them over to the police,” Sylia asked.

         “Between Genom and the Yakuza,” Mikado said, “any criminals I put in prison would back on the streets.  Death is the only punishment that those criminal scum deserve.”

         “I'm ready to kill,” Priss said, “if I have to.”

         “As am I,” Sylia said.

         “I kill only those people I have to kill,” Mikado said, “I spare those that don't need to die.”

         “We understand, and will abide by that rule,” Sylia said.

         “Very well,” Mikado said, “I will allow you to join my team, but you will obey my commands, and leave the team if I tell you to do so.”

         “Understood, Papa,” Priss said.

         “Catty, let them observe from the operations room,” Mikado said.

         Mikado stepped past Sylia and Priss, and stalked down the hall to a door labeled “Hardsuit Lab”.  He entered the room, and had changed into the soft form-fitting bodysuit that he wore under his armor by the time Sylia, Priss, and Catty entered the room.

         “What's with the bodysuit,” Priss asked.

         “Our hardsuits read the wearer's movements and move the suit to match and even enhance their movements,” Catty said, “but to do this, the wearer has to wear a sensor skinsuit underneath their hardsuit.”

         Catty stepped over to the computer in the corner, and touched a key.  A light came on in the storage area, while simultaneously Mikado's hardsuit opened up to its “boarding mode”.  Mikado first took his helmet off the hardsuit stand and set it on the nearby table, and then he stepped into the suit, sliding his arms into the armored sleeves.  As he stood up straight, the hardsuit stand released the suit, while at the same time the hardsuit closed around Mikado.  Nearby a cabinet opened revealing a large collection of weapons and armored cases of a variety of sizes.  Mikado grabbed a shoulder-mounted plasma cannon, and attached it to its attachment point on his left shoulder blade.  The plasma cannon swiveled back and forth for a moment, and then folded itself into a storage position on Mikado's back.  Mikado then grabbed a small armored case, and attached it to another attachment point on his back.

         “Medical kit,” Catty explained, as Mikado attached the case to his back.

         Mikado then took out his large equipment case out of the cabinet and attached it to his back.

         “That case carries a variety of extra gear and equipment that Mikado may need in the field,” Catty explained, “he calls it his 'Cleaner Case'.”

         Mikado placed the cleaner case on another attachment point on his back.  He then took out his utility belt, filled with gadgets and weapons, and fastened it around his waist.  He then took out the four shurikens that he carried the previous night, and attached them to his utility belt.  Mikado then took out his collapsing spear and placed it in its storage position on his back.  He grabbed the large disk weapon with the five finger holes and attached it and its sheath to his right thigh.  Finally he grabbed a large dagger and the cone-shaped weapon and attached them to his calves.  Closing the cabinet, Mikado turned to face Sylia and Priss, and took up his helmet.

         “Now I am ready to go,” Mikado said.

         He put on his helmet, and as he did so, Sylia and Priss heard a click as the helmet connected to connection points on the high neck of his skinsuit.  Sylia saw the eye lenses of Mikado's helmet flash briefly.

         “Don't forget your performance at the Tinsel City Tiki Room tonight, Priss,” Mikado said, his voice electronically altered, sounding deep and artificial.

         Mikado tapped a key on his wrist computer and instantly vanished from sight.  This shocked Sylia and Priss.  They failed to notice the door open behind them and shut of its own volition.

         “That's a neat trick,” Priss said.

         “Optical camouflage,” Catty said, “and before you ask, your suits won't have it.”

         “Why not, Aunt Catty,” Sylia asked.

         “It's a touchy system,” Catty said, “and easily disabled.  A simple drop of water is enough to short it out.”

         “You are planning to improve this optical camouflage,” Sylia said, “aren't you, Aunt Catty?”

         “Mackie and I are always experimenting with our hardsuit technology,” Catty said, “but the optical camouflage is reverse engineered from alien technology.  We're still trying to understand exactly how it works.  Priss-chan, you must go get ready for your performance at the Tinsel City Tiki Room.”

         “Okay, Momma,” Priss said reluctantly, “but next time, I get to go out with Papa.”

         “That will depend on whether or not we have a suit constructed for you,” Catty said.



TO BE CONTINUED



Disclaimer: (legal stuff that I gotta put in here, so that you know I used stuff in this story that belong to other people)



–          Bubblegum Crisis, its characters and mecha were created by Kenichi Sonoda and are owned by Artmic AIC

–          Catty Nova Nebulart, a character from “Gall Force” was also created by Kenichi Sonoda, and is owned by Youmex

–          All Predator related material is owned by Twentieth Century Fox

–          All Iron Man related material is owned by Marvel Comics

–          All Batman related material is owned by D.C. Comics

–          All other things you may have recognized as being other people's work or materials are owned by whoever owns them.

–          This is a work of Fan Fiction, using other peoples characters.  No plagiarism was intended in the writing of this work.