Bubblegum Crash Fan Fiction ❯ After the Crash ❯ Chapter 2

Bubblegum Crisis: After the Crash

Part Two

 

The next evening and much later at night, rock music pounded through the club Hot Legs, nearly shaking down the walls. Up on stage Priss sang like a woman possessed, her performance leathers clinging to her body as she egged the audience on. Familiar faces and newbies filled the audience, their happy cries giving her even more energy.

 

Her blonde wig fell into Priss eyes as she grinned, raising the microphone to her lips, "Here's another favorite, and I'm dedicating it to Genom!" With a laugh she sang 'Piece of Crap' by Neil Young, enjoying hearing the laughter and cheers of her audience.

 

Genom wasn't too popular these days, with the recent boomer uprising still fresh in people's minds, but Priss had no illusions that it was going to last. The company was still the biggest employer in Megatokyo as well as one of the most powerful corporations, and they would be able to buy or bribe the populace into loving them once again.

 

'Still,' Priss thought with a impish grin, 'it's nice to be able to tell 'em off without being shouted down by some jerk.'

 

"You were on fire tonight, Priss," her lead guitarist smiled wryly later as they group headed off stage and back to the dressing rooms. .

 

"Hell yeah," the drummer agreed, his shaggy mop falling into his eyes.

 

"Thanks," Priss said softly, feeling a profound sense of relief. Since the Replicants had gotten a contract and split she had been without a back-up band, and this new group had only just started out. But thankfully they all seemed to be jelling, and it looked like the beginning of something more.

 

"Catch you later," the guys took over one dressing room, leaving Priss to use the other.

 

With a tired sigh Priss went in the dressing room, briskly toweling off the sweat from what she thought was one of her better performances. Her leather top and skirt clung to her body, the quickly discarded blonde wig left hanging on the back of her chair.

 

Despite trying to focus on the concert Priss still found herself silently cursing herself for what had happened yesterday, for what she said and how she reacted. `Sylia was opening up,' Priss thought to herself angrily as she dried sweat from her short brown hair, `telling us her deep dark secrets! And I freaked, damn it!'

 

One of the band's roadies thumped on the door then he stuck his head in, his messy brown hair giving him a sheep-dog look. “Hey Priss, there's a good looking chick here to see you," he grinned. "Pretty cool if you like the office lady type.”

 

“Don't call them chicks,” Priss said to him sourly, keeping her back to him. “Who is she?” she asked, a sudden sinking feeling in her gut.

 

“She says her name's Cecilia or som'thin',” he grumbled sullenly.

 

“It's Sylia. And bring her in,” Priss said to him in her `don't mess with me, or I'll tear you a new bodily orifice' tone.

 

He gulped loudly in terror and then scurried away to obey the order with haste. Ever since she had kneed one of the roadies in the groin for trying to feel her up, they sure jumped when Priss wanted something done. It may not have been textbook employee/employer relations, but it worked. A soft knock, and Priss turned to open the door.

 

Sylia smiled at Priss as she walked in, carrying a purse and looking utterly in control. Back in her ice-queen business suits again she looked like her old self, but Priss thought that she could see a new softness in Sylia's eyes. "Sylia," Priss nodded.

 

“Hello Priss,” Sylia said mildly as she took in the messy room, “I was a little worried about you, so I thought I'd drop in.”

 

Priss smiled back at her shyly, “I was hoping to see you tonight." Running a hand through her hair she sighed, "I wanted to apologize for making such an ass of myself yesterday.”

 

“It's all right,” Sylia started to say, only to have Priss stop her speech with a sad smile and a raised hand.

 

“No, it's not." Priss looked said, "I was a real jerk, and I'm sorry.”

 

“Apology accepted,” Sylia said gently, a impish smile on her face.

 

"Thanks." Priss blushed, quickly realizing that she was standing in front of Sylia dressed in nothing but what amounted to a leather sports bra and a mini-skirt. Not that Sylia ever seemed to notice things like that, but still!

 

"Are you all right?" Sylia asked, eyes searching Priss'.

 

Instead of answering Priss softly asked, “Would you please sit down?” She smiled a bit as she explained, “You always intimidate me standing up.”

 

“I intimidate you?” Sylia said in a surprised tone of voice, sitting down in the offered chair. “I was just thinking I wished I could be more like you.” Priss gave Sylia such a surprised look that Sylia had to laugh. “I mean, I'm such a boring person in a lot of ways,” Sylia confessed, “I wanted to be more exciting, like you.”

 

“Trust me, you're not boring,” Priss said, feeling suddenly shy. She turned from Sylia's level gaze to grab a top and roughly pulled it over her head. Still facing away from her, Priss said softly, so that Sylia could barely hear “You have always interested me.”

 

“Really?” Sylia asked her. She stepped up behind Priss and softly put her hand on Priss's shoulder. With a gentle pressure, she turned Priss around so they were facing each other, looking eye to eye. “I never really thought you noticed me.”

 

“You're so hard to read,” Priss said, her voice deepening a bit. “I would see something in your eye, then it would just go away.”

 

Sylia tapped her temple with a rueful expression, “Faster thoughts, remember? Whenever I though about you, I would just shove it away and bury it as quickly as possible. You do work for me, it wouldn't be right.” She blushed a bit, “I've been having those thoughts more and more, though.” She smiled and shrugged helplessly.

 

“Good,” Priss said, gently cupping Sylia's face in her hands. Sylia smiled encouragingly to her, and Priss leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Sylia's lips.

 

"Priss," Sylia looked searchingly into her eyes as she asked, "are you all right with what you've learned about me?"

 

Priss kissed her again, gently. "I overreacted," she said, "no matter what, you're still the stubborn, occasionally bad tempered and cool woman that...."

 

"Yes?" Sylia asked with a dangerous look I her eyes.

 

"That I fell in love with," Priss finished.

 

"Me, too," Sylia confessed before pulling her into another kiss.

 

Author's Note: This is a little piece of fluff written after I saw the Bubblegum Crash collection, and I wanted to see a resolution to the Sylia/ Priss situation. Crash really disappointed me in some ways, in that it was much lower in quality and in complexity compared to the earlier Crisis series. I did like the new hardsuits, though.

 

Sylia's enhancements come from pieces of dialog in Crisis and Crash, as well as Adam Warren's Bubblegum Crisis Comic book, Grand Mal. I began to consider that she might have physical enhancements when I realized that Sylia, in the episodes I've seen, was never seriously injured on panel. Also, Sylia's cold, emotionless facade was something I could also explain that way, as well as why the romantic tension between her and Priss never went anywhere.

 

Priss is very hard character for me to try and write, because of the personality changes that she goes through. In `Crisis', she hated boomers at first, then `bonded' with Sylvie and Anri, and is horribly effected by their deaths. But in the `Crash' storyline, she's reverted to her earlier `I hate all boomers' stance again. So I took a middle of the road approach to her.