The dive bar was under the shadow of Genom's tower, even though it was half way across the city. It was a old building, run down, and the people who came here barely expected a singer to be in tune, much less be good. So tonight, they were pleasantly surprised. The lead singer's long black hair shimmered as she sang harshly, her voice blasting through the bar. She sang of blood in the streets, a war with the powers that be and courage that was undefeated by a terrible defeat. In her black leather top and jeans she was a feral, sexy presence on stage, catching the eye of everyone there. 'Damn it,' Priss mentally snarled to herself as she belted out the next verse, 'damn that Reika Chang!' Her mind flashed back to a few hours earlier, to a office high up in the damned Genom tower... "I'm sorry Priss," Reika had said smoothly as she smiled, "but you agreed to preform for Genom as well as accept our recommendations." Priss slammed her hand on the desk, "But the music is pure fluff!" Reika met her eyes calmly, "Our market research shows that a pop idol approach would be best for your career." Priss paced in front of the desk, fighting to control her temper, "You know I've worked years to build my rep as a metal-revivalist. This will ruin it!" "Metal-revivalist is a fringe music," Reika shook her head firmly, "it'll be years before it's big... if ever." She tapped the promo art of Priss in a dress, her hair styled and lights shining on her, "This will sell now." "I won't do it," Priss snarled. Reika sat back, looking at Priss calmly, "Are you telling me you'll break your contract with Genom?" "I...," Priss hesitated, hearing the ominous tone in her voice. "You're welcome to do so," Reika continued mildly, "but Genom will expect to be repaid for the costs of promoting you and the proposed ad campaign." Priss flushed, "I don't have that kind of money." "True," Reika agreed, "and I suspect other companies would be... wary of hiring a potential risk like you." "You'd blacklist me?" Priss said quietly. "Blacklist is such a... harsh word," Reika said mildly. Priss clenched her jaw as the idea of lawsuits for breech on contract and massive debts scurried across her mind. "You'll have your damned songs," she said bitterly as she walked to the door of the executive's office, "but don't expect me to help promote them!" Back on the stage Priss drove her fury into her voice, blasting rage out as she sang the last verse. The crowd roared happily as the teens and adults cheered for the band widely known around the fringe scene in Tokyo. "That was the band Revenge Road!" the host declared as he gave the crowd a smile, "Give 'em a big hand!" The crowd roared it's approval as he continued, "Maybe they'll do a second set, too." "Only if you pay us," Priss answered, making sure the mic. could pick it up. "You wound me, Ririka," the host sighed, running a hand through his greasy black hair even as the audience chuckled. Gathering their gear the band headed to what was laughingly called the dressing room, really just a converted bathroom. Keeping her stage gear on Priss toweled the sweat away, sighing as the leather clinged to her slim body. Gonzo the drummer looked up at her as he packed up his gear, "Priss, thank you. If you weren't playing with us..." "It's nothing," Priss answered as she packed up her guitar. "No, it's something," Maico the bass guitarist answered firmly. The redheaded woman looked at Priss with a frown, "If Genom finds out you're playing with us..." "Which is why I have a wig on and the fake name," Priss answered grimly. She grabbed a jacket, "Gonzo, can you grab my pay from that bastard? I don't want his oily paws on me again." "Sure," Gonzo nodded as his messy brown hair fell into his eyes, "you want me to kick him in the nuts for bothering you, too?" "Tempting," Priss flashed a grin, "but no. Just the money will be fine." A few minutes later and Priss collected her money, heading out into a back alley to shed her wig as she pulled on her jacket and helmet. She looked up at the tower and sighed before climbing on her motorbike and roaring off into the night. There was a peacefulness to the city at night, even as the night shift hurried from place to place. Compared to the daytime rush it was nearly sedate, and it gave Priss the chance to open up the throttle a bit on her bike. She roared down roads and swept through turns, feeling the wind blow her worries away. Whee-oo Whee-oo! 'Oh crap,' Priss slowed as she saw the red and blue lights in her mirrors. She hoped he or she might just zoom by but no luck, the electric powered cruiser settled into place right behind her as Priss slowed to a stop. It took a moment or two then a younger, brown and blonde haired man emerged, dressed in the usual police uniform of a highway patrolman. With a casual walk the muscular fellow sauntered up to the bike, looking down at her with a quizical expression. "Do you want to guess how fast you were going?" he asked. Priss was tempted to be a smart-ass, but she kept it under control. "I guess I was a little over the speed limit Officer...," she read his name tag, "McNichol." "Nearly thirty kilometers a hour over," McNichol noted, "and according to the police mainframe you've been warned before." 'Oh that's just great,' Priss winced. "I'm really sorry," she said desperately to avoid a ticket and hefty fine. McNichol paused as he looked a her, "Could you tilt your head towards the light?" "Yes?" Feeling a bit of a idiot Priss did, figuring it might save her a ticket. 'But if he gets fresh,' she thought, 'he dies.' "You're that Priss!" McNichol blurted, looking at her in shock. Priss looked at him as if he had lost him mind, "What?" "The singer!" McNichol said eagerly, "I used to follow all your appearances..." he deflated a bit, 'at least, until you signed a deal with Genom." "Yeah, well...," Priss blushed as she looked away. She looked at him cautiously, "You want a autograph or somethin'?" "Could I!?" MCNichol said as he stuffed his police notepad away and dug out a smaller book. "Could you sign it, "To my big fan Leon?" he asked. "Leon, huh?" Priss murmured as she wrote in her usual sloppy handwriting. "Here ya go," she said as she passed the book back. "Thank you," Leon smiled shyly as he quickly stuffed the book away. Seizing her chance Priss smiled charmingly, "You mind if I take off? I have this really important interview tomorrow." "Sure, go ahead," Leon said good-naturedly. Not wasting any time Priss got her helmet on and was off, her headlight blazing in the night 'Thank goodness,' she thought, still keeping below the speed limit. Leon put his hand on his ticket book as he was walking back to his squad car then froze. "Damn," he cursed softly, realizing he hadn't ticketed her or got her phone number! Priss swung her way around the urban core of the city, making her way to the suburbs and the house she rented some space from. The nice young lady let Priss park her old trailer there and Priss paid a small rent and did various handyman jobs. "Hey, Priss!" Miss Aoi waved from the porch, smiling as the blue haired woman asked, "Sho was wondering if you had dinner yet?" 'What's he doing up this hour?' Priss wondered. "Not yet," she answered as she parked her bike and set the helmet on top, "I just grabbed a burger where I worked." "We still have some stir fry and rice if you're hungry," Aoi winked. "Let me change first," Priss laughed, already feeling grungy in her leathers. A quick shower and change and Priss arrived in jeans and t-shirt, feeling much more comfortable than before. "Hey Priss!" Sho smiled as she came in, his brown hair falling into his eyes messily. "Hey," Priss nodded as she ruffled his hair, "you're getting shaggy." Sho laughed as Aoi dished up the food, smiling warmly at Priss. "You look too thin you know," she commented, "how are you going to succeed as skin and bones?" "Trust me, they prefer what I got," Priss shook her head wryly. Aoi chuckled as she went by, patting Priss' ass, "I prefer it too." Quietly so Sho couldn't hear she asked, "Do you think you could stay over tonight?" Priss blushed a bit, "I think so."
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