Bubblegum Crisis: Tokyo 2040
No 28. Epilogue: Blame It On The Rain

The wee hours of the morning used to be the worse for Priss. During that time, she had always been at her weariest and depressed, but today was a bit different. Certainly, Priss was drenched, and smelled of wet leather, but she couldn't help but smile tiredly, leaning back as the jacket made a crunching noise comfortably around her. Leaning her head to the side, she saw Leon with a similar smile. Despite the fact that he was probably cold due to the dress shirt being plastered to his body, and his hair was in his face, it didn't show at all.

"Stop off at the Doll, would you?" Priss muttered, closing her eyes. "I want to get my clothes before you drop me off."

Leon tilted his head, and looked Priss over with an appraising eye. "Gonna change? Need any help with that?" He grinned widely, and was rewarded with a jab in the ribs.

"Not on the first date," she murmured with a small smile, her eyes at half mast as she shifted over. "At least make an effort to get me drunk before asking me that question."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Hands where I can see them, dipshit."

They both lapsed into a warm silence, cruising quietly on the feeling of euphoria and adrenaline that had them singing for hours. Priss's impromptu concert had eventually been cleared away by the cops, despite Leon's protests, but it had been the most fun they had both had in a long time, and had broken the ice between them. It had been fun, Priss thought contentedly. Reaching over, she pulled one of Leon's arms over her shoulder, and leaned on him, using him as a head rest, and almost purred in contentment.

"What happened to 'hands where I can see them'?" Leon asked in a low voice, amusement clear in his eyes.

"I can see 'em just fine where they are, thank you," came the reply. Priss looked down at herself. The dress was all but ruined. Good. Damn Sylia. Still, it had served its purpose, getting wet and clingy in all the places that had Leon staring at her for most of the night. Normally she wasn't much of a tease but as well as she knew him, Leon wouldn't try for anything more than a quick feel. The way things had been, she didn't even stop him the few times his hands strayed. It felt about right. She had probably laughed more that night than she had ever laughed, period.

"Don't think about it too hard," Priss said, "But I'm glad that you called me today."

"Huh. Well, don't think about it too hard, but I'm glad you picked up and said 'yes'."





When Daley woke up, it was two thirty in the morning, and he was hanging upside down from his balcony by his ankles. It was cold, it was wet, and for the life of him, he just couldn't stop screaming.

"I'm a boomer, huh? A pasty faced robot bitch, huh?" Priss's cold, hardsuit-covered hands shook Daley up and down, giving the AD officer a nosebleed of an entirely different sort as he yowled in fear. "I'll show you boomer, you limp wristed, flaming whoopsie!"

Leon looked over the railing, and lit a cigarette with a smug, smirk on his face. When Priss had asked him to stop at Sylia's store, he had no clue that this was the 'spare set' of clothes that she wanted. Still, he didn't mind much. Priss's hardsuit was even more form fitting than the dress, and really didn't leave a lot to the imagination. Despite being coated in metal, she still had that catlike grace and agility, two things he found immensely appealing, especially since Priss was using all that skill to shake Daley like a soda can.

In a calculated, measured response, Daley screamed like a sissy, and Leon shrugged. "Hey," the bigger cop said with a nonchalant shrug, "It's not my fault. She's a crazy woman, I tell you. I can't do a thing with her, or take her anyplace fancy."

"Christ! Leon! Make her stop! What the hell is this? You're supposed to be fighting crime! Not causing it!" Daley bawled between vigorous shakes and rattles.

"I don't know, Daley. I'm an AD police officer. I handle boomer crimes." Leon made a big show of looking around, as Priss stopped, holding Daley's foot with one hand, one battle armored hand on her hip, making her look rather appealing when she slid the visor up to give Leon a tiny smile. "Gee, Priss. Do you see any boomers here?"

Priss made a big show of looking around, and she leaned over the railing, calling in her smokey voice, "No boomers here, Daley! Guess you're just SOL."

"I'm sorry! Okay? Sorry! What do you want me to do?"

Priss put a finger to her lips, contemplating, and she looked at Leon questioningly, and shrugged. "Any ideas there?"

Furrowing his brow, Leon rubbed his chin, and then smiled. "I know exactly what we can do."




"There you go. You look gorgeous," Leon said, folding his arms, and tilting his head in satisfaction.

"You bastard! I look like a idiot!"

"Trust me, fruits flip for idiots," Priss said coolly, shoving her hands in the pockets of her red leather jacket. "Just suck it up. I had to wear this stupid motherfucker all night because of you. How do you feel now?"

Daley scowled at Priss on the front steps of the totem pole, where he was already getting weird looks from people, as Leon could barely contain his laughter, and Priss was almost unable to contain very unladylike snorts and guffaws herself. Dressed in Sylia's fine regalia, the brisk wind blew the strapless dress about Daley's legs, and fluttered the hem, revealing the high slit up the side, and the matching pumps. "My feet," he snarled, "are killing me."

"Yeah, well we're going to kill you if you don't get in there and take your punishment like a man," Priss said with a crooked smile. Lifting her leg, she shoved her hobnailed boot into Daley's back, and the officer in drag stumbled into the revolving door. A split second later, an anguished wail that was signature Daley resounded, followed by the near deafening laughter and hoots from within the building.

"I'm hungry," Priss said.

"Wanna get some burgers or something, and take a ride?" Leon jerked his thumb at the Knight Saber's bike at the rack by the street, and Priss smiled.

"Thought you'd never ask," was the reply, and she leaned on his shoulder as they strolled towards the parking lot, identical smirks on their faces.



-And there you have it. It's a short ending, but the third part was just supposed to be a cap for the story, something to encapsulate and tie up the ends. Despite my wafflings, I am staring my writing again, but this time, I'm switching series for a bit to stretch my legs. If you happen to like my stuff, I'll be working on a Love Hina fiction fairly soon. So keep an eye out for it. Also, I have a basic plot idea for a new BGC 2040 work, unrelated to Safety Dance. Looks like that one's on the burner for a while longer...

Game On.