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The Melancholy of Mackie-Chan
The Melancholy of Mackie-Chan
Because I have to post something. At least to keep the forum alive....

So. Let's mess with Mackie again.

Quote:He remembered reaching for the eject handles.

And the Crunch of the impact.


Needless to say, his Sister's voice in his mind came as a surprise. Abruptly awakened in sparks-on-black grid of virtual space, he saw her there.

“Sis,” he managed to say.

“You had an accident,” she said, taking a moment to choose her wods.

“I crashed.” Had he a body, he might've felt himself go cold.

“You remembered?”

She almost seemed distracted, surprised. Like she’d seen a ghost.

“But we're in virtual space...”

“I…” he saw her mind switch gears. “I got your mind.”

Somewhere, something quailed, even without a body he thought he'd be sick. It couldn't be too serious. Not when he was still thinking. But still, that look on her face – even simulated – crawled up his spine.


“But not your body.”


“I just have to load some new system drivers.”

Mackie saw who had signed the drivers – personally. A dreadful possibility loomed large in his mind. It died, replaced by one far more exciting...

He'd finally been allowed onto the Forge with all it's cool stuff and hot, busty women.

“We're about to bring you online. Promise you won't scream.”

“Scream?” he managed, before oblivion took hold.

Reality returned with a bang.

The scent of ozone tingled in his nostrils as he took his first breath, filling his lungs.

He recognised the room. The old engineer's office beside the power-plant, where Shinji'd been born. Hundreds of energy meters read out the power flowing through each and every circuit on the asteroid, filling the room with dim blue light. Numbers flickered as circuits switched on automatic. It gave the whole room a delicious Frankenstein ambience.

Above him, decade-old second hand scanners and spotlights that'd obviously been borrowed.

It all felt wrong. Every single muscle, every nerve out of place. The drivers didn't cover half of it.

Mackie pushed himself upright. The weight on his chest shifted. Sitting opposite him, his sister's puppet, naked. One the one hand, it was hard not to note just how much of an achingly hot body she had. Her wide, blue eyes. The soft, sleek curves of her athletic body. Her tanned skin stretched taught over toned muscles. Her breasts swelled on her chest with each breath – unnaturally symetrical and artificially perfect.

“Wow,” he breathed. She matched him.

He felt his heart race, his chest quivering in time. Lightning struck throughout his body, each breath quivering. It filled his whole body, alien and wrong, tracking inside when it should've been expanding, filling his chest with a jolt on every breath.

His mind finally caught up to the fact that the puppet reflected each and every single move he made... almost like a mirror.


He looked down, placing two hands on his chest, inhaling. His breath shivered as he squeezed, confirming they really and truly were attached to him.

“He noticed,” a voice giggled, somewhere to herself. Mackie turned to face, hair brushing off his shoulders.

Kotono. Wearing her usual aerobic outfit, fresh from a run. He skin glistened with sweat.

“Noticed?” he said, hearing his sister's voice.

“I win” Daryl piped up. She stood against the far wall, still in her skintight flightsuit. “Breasts first. Pay up ladies”


His Sister, standing behind him, flanked on both sides by some pretty funky looking hardware. Cables trailed from it to the headrest on the workbench.

The pieces began to assemble themselves in his mind. He groped some more, just confirm it.

“Wa.....Wa.......Whu...... Huh?” Frightened eyes looked for an explanation

“It was the only option,”

“You should've just left me in virtual space!”

“We couldn't. Not for much longer. It would've harmed your mental patterns.”

“The Knightwing, then....” Even being back inside that tin can would've felt better.

“We stripped all that hardware out. It would've taken a week...”

“Anything then!. Anything but this...” He poked himself in the chest. The breast bounced. The sensation traced like lightning through his body. “This is a sex toy!”

“I spoke to A.C. We had a few hours at most before decoherence set in.”

Not even a glimmer of humour, of hope that it'd been a cruel prank. His sister stared at him, her expression deadly serious.

Mackie started to shake. She stopped towards him. Cold ceramic pulled bare skin into a chilling embrace, every sensitive spot on the puppet sparking to life at once drawing a shivering gasp to Mackie's lips.

A shudder raced through his body.

She pushed back, her warm smile beaming back at him, formed from full, luscious lips. Glacier blue eyes shone with kindness,

“You'll be alright. You're still my brother. If I have to, I'll build you a new body myself.”

Reset. His thought process stopped, locking into the moment. Impact. Spinning. Ground.

“I thought I was dead.” He felt his voice shake. “I thought they killed me,”


Jet pushed back.

Mackie felt his throat go tight. “I was shot down.”

The look on his Sister's face terrified him.

--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Luckily for Mackie, people in his circle of friends have been in this position before. Including Jet... although how well she remembers dealing with it is up for debate.

At the same time though, many of them have dealt with him in his more pervy moments and probably won't be giving him as much sympathy as they could.
from: ChrisWood@VoidShipping.fen
to: ford.sierra@heavyarms.fen
subj: On the Mackie-chan issue.

One of my ships, the Silver Hawk, is making a delivery to Frigga on Thursday. If you and Jet are willing, I'd appreciate it if you could give her captain a copy of what data you managed to recover from the flight recorder. The kids have some tricks they haven't shared with the Hacker Underspace, and Kitbash thinks she might be able to get some usable data out of it. (Even if she can't get anything, I think Kit needs to try. Even if it's receded a bit, her crush on Mackie never quite went away. Plus, well she's never handled people she cares about nearly being killed.)

On a lighter note, let me know when you think Mackie-chan has recovered enough for a little torment. I still owe him for the camera incident, after all. 

- C
To: Christwood(a)Voidshipping.fen
from: Ford.Sierra(a)Heavyarms.fen
subj: Mackie-Chan


Jet's been playing this one fairly tight. We've only told a few close friends that Mackie actually survived. For the time being we're letting whoever shot him down think he's dead. It's easier to go after them if they don't think anyone's going after them.

As for Mackie, the dirty pair have been torturing him, May's offered a 1 hour complimentary 'introductory' session and Jet's limited wardrobe for the thing means there really isn't anything light or casual to hide inside. It's hard not to laugh and the whole ironic-hell deal even if it probably is torture.

--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
To: Anika.Daini(a)Heavyarms.fen
From: Miyuri.Akisato(a)ultima.stellvia.fen
Subj: Re: I have to let you know

Oh, that's nasty. Hope M is handling things okay. (Pun intended.)

Shinji and I have put a care package on on the JMC ship that just left. Shinji grabbed a maintenance uniform in the right size from station supply (hope you folks don't mind the Ultima patch on the jacket sleeve). I tossed in a couple of scrunchies - a new hairdo will give M a completely different appearance, and what's easier to style than a ponytail? (It'll be a short tail, but that's okay.)

Should we tell Kohran, Yayoi, or Noah about this?


OOC: StellviaCorp station maintenance uniform is blue jeans, white shirts, and a high-visibility yellow jacket or spacesuit with the "[insert station name here] Operations" patch on the right shoulder. In short, casual clothes that can stand up to messy engine work.
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012
from: ChrisWood@VoidShipping.fen
to: ford.sierra@heavyarms.fen
subj: Re: Mackie-chan

>Jet's limited wardrobe for the thing means there really isn't anything light or casual to hide inside. 

Oh. My. God. I completely failed to realise that particular detail. Ford, please tell me Jet's at least got underwear for him that'll fit without being skimpy, sexy, and designed to break your mind. If not, give me the numbers, and I'll arrange for some plain, utility underwear.

Hey, I may enjoy the chance to torment the kid, but I've been in that position, and as weird as it sounds, underwear is one of the things that'll really break the spirit of the recently changed. At least he won't have to worry about a biomod quirk there...

- C
YUKU! STOP! EATING! POSTS! Whoever wrote the bloody spam filter should be dragged into a field and shot.


From: Anika.Daini(a)friggarock.fen
to: Miyuri.Akisato(a)ultima.stellvia.fen
RE: I have to let you know.

Mackie'll appreciate that. Right now, he's in a Senshi Leotard

>Hope M is handling things okay.

Oh I know. I've never seen anyone so afraid to touch anything. It's pretty messed up especially when you consider the sort of person that body was actually built for. (They're not perverts - they're richer than us, so they're eccentric). The weird part is that might make it slightly easier since it wasn't originally designed for a woman.... he's only been wearing them for 5 minutes but he already walks better in heels than most people I know.

I think for the next couple of days he's going to just try and get busy. I know he wants to get inside a cockpit again as soon as possible and with his sister on the warpath he might get the chance. Seriously, she's angry - and not the funny kind of angry like when you put salt in her tea - I've had to fix the door in here twice already today.

As for telling anyone else ... they'll have been told by Jet if she thinks it's a good idea to tell them. But if she's kept them in the dark it might be a good idea to stay quiet - we're being a bit careful with this because we don't want to spook the villain.



Meta: The intent being, they can get involved if you want them to.


To: Chris.Wood(a)Voidshipping.fen
From: Ford.Sierra(a)heavyarms.fen
Suj: Re: Macki-Chan

Yeah, it was quite funny. Jet's pretty good at choosing stuff that's comfortable to wear but nothing really light or casual. Right now, Mackie's in a senshi leotard (without the skirt) and a pair of heeled thighboots buckled to the belt. Those things are handwaved for situations like this, to at least be comfortable.

Being a temporary thing probably helps too. Ultimately, it's only until he can get a new body and that's three weeks or so from whever he decides to pull the trigger - or faster if he'll put up with the sort Jet can build. Right now I think Jet's going to offer to either do it immediately or have Mackie 'die' for a few weeks until they nail whoeever shot him down.

To be honest, I think that'll be his real problem. Mackie just came face to face with death in a way very few people ever see the other side of and that's not a nice thing to do. Waking up with a nice rack is keeping his mind off it for the time being, but it's going to hit him tonight.

We've a hot-tub and a few other private places he can use to relax if needs be.


--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
from: ChrisWood@VoidShipping.fen
to: ford.sierra@heavyarms.fen
subj: Re: Mackie-chan

Hmm. Joking about teasing him aside, if you and Jet think he's not dealing with what led up to it, let me know. I can make a visit out there for a little moral support. Yeah, I know Jet's been there before, and so have you, but the path my dance on that razors edge went might make me a better shoulder to lean on.

from: LordAndMaster@jmc.fento: Bodybuilding Help
Hey Jet,
Holy fuck marmalade on a pumpkin shell. I haven't had bad news like that hit my inbox since the war.
Nene's really beside herself - the last time she talked to Mackie, she decked him, and the lines of communication hadn't been reopened even with her visits. She's so beside herself she hasn't considered the irony of the body, nor do I expect her to.
More seriously, if you need it, we can possibly speed things up by doing a special delivery with Starbug 1 of whatever body you get for Mackie. No charge.

"You know how parents tell you everything's going to fine, but you know they're lying to make you feel better? Everything's going to be fine." - The Doctor
to: LordAndMaster(a)jmc.fen
Subj: Bodybuilding help.

Hey Jeph,

I'll let you know on that. I gave him the choice of just putting the order in straight away, or trying to play dead for a little bit to help the investigation. Right now, he's sleeping on it. I'll know in the morning. I amn't going to force it on him.

If Nene wants to chat with him, it's her call. I know he'll be glad to hear a familiar voice in the morning.


--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
From: D.Ant(a)bounce.fen
To: Jet.Jaguar(a)friggarock.fen
RE: Vengance is a Mack Truck

Ms. Jaguar... Certain information has come to my attention that indicates your younger brother has suffered a mischief. I have already made some inquiries and have determined that none of my people were involved therein. Given the... nature of the mischief; I feel compelled to offer you any assistance you might require to... chastise those actually responsible. In fact, from what I have heard I am incensed enough that if you can find out where these miscreants are I am more than willing to arrange an extended visit by Mr. Murphy.

Also, based on additional rumors that have come to my attention, I have taken the liberty of arranging an open reservation for up to a week, on myself, at Candy Apple Red's for the "Lad". Feel free to use it as either a carrot or stick to motivate him as needed.

Don Anthony
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to split the sky?
That's every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry-

-- "No Quarter", by Echo's Children
From: Miyuri.Akisato(a)ultima.stellvia.fen
To: Anika.Daini(a)friggarock.fen
Subj: RE: I have to let you know.

> Mackie'll appreciate that. Right now, he's in a Senshi Leotard

Oh, thank you so much for that mental image.

Wasn't there a leotard-wearing character named Mackie in the Negima manga? Let's secretly replace that character with our Mackie, and see how he handles being in an all-girls class.

On second thought, let's not. He'd probably enjoy it.


Quote:Meta: The intent being, they can get involved if you want them to.
Let's leave them out of the loop - there's nothing that I can think of that they can contribute to the story.
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012
Knowing what I know about his canon Bubblegum Crisis self, I can't help but feel Mackie will find the silver lining quite quickly...
from: "James Bostwick"@Werewolf@Stellvia.fen
subj:investigating the wreckage


Currently i am on site at the wreckage and we have located the "issue". Further information will be delivered via secure messenger but i can assure that the incident was not Mackie's fault. The "issue" in the investigation is being pursued and all avenues are currently open. 

James "Wolfboy" Bostwick

Only one word came to his mind. Snug. A single-piece leotard hugged the puppet's body far tighter than anything he'd ever worn in his life – including the Kulbit flight suit. Even the stockings seemed to make for a second skin. At least it kept things from moving around.

Until the body asked for a breath.

Mackie stood up, ankles finding their natural balance point with heels perched centimetres above the floor. Toes curled on cold tiles. Mackie tried to relax his posture to rest both heels on the ground. His ankles pulled tight, stretching until artificial sinew threatened to snap. Heels met cold concrete for a moment before a yelp of pain escaped his lips

The moment he relaxed, they sprung back into place, still aching.

He sat back on the bed, fighting the urge to bend down and knead them with his fingers. No wonder his Sister always wore heels with the thing.

Only the boots remained. Red thighboots of the sort beloved by most senshi. Again, they fit the pattern so far, tight and snug. His foot slipped in, cybernetic senses gleefully reporting every miniscule detail of the sensation to an overloaded mind.

The body thrummed, traces of electricity drawing sharp gasps as he tried to take control. He tried to focus, panting. Cold sweat trickled across his brow, a hard desire building deep inside.

A small part of his mind had to laugh at the ironic hell of it all.

Punishment for being permnently fifteen.

And being turned on by the sight of the stunning woman staring back at him and the aching desire to both run his fingers over her body and feel her burning touch on his skin...

“This is so fucked up,” he breathed.

Mackie focused on getting his feet settled in both booths instead, dragging them up by their straps, grunting with the effort. Eventually, toes found their safe place at the bottom of the boot.

“Are you coming out?”

“Not yet!”

Hearing his sister's voice come back off the walls chilled. The second boot offered even more challenge than the first, creaking as he heaved at the straps.

Each tug shook his breasts.

“Having trouble?” Kotono called in.

“It's just hard to get everything on.”

A pair of leather straps fixed them onto a belt around his waist.

“If it's hard for you to put on, it's hard for a rapist to take off.”

He tried a few steps. The body's own software took the challenge out of walking in heels. It didn't kill the strangeness, the surreal feeling of being a passenger as its natural stride swayed from side-to-side.

He stopped.

Out of curiosity, he tried standing on a single leg.

The body maintained rock-solid balance. Automatic. Artificial. Even as he leant over past the point where he was certain he'd fall.

A few more steps. An alient stride. He tried a deep breath, feeling his chest swell.

“Come on Mackie, you can't stay in there forever.”

“Don't laugh,” he said.

“We won't,” said Kotono

“We promise,” Daryl added

They lied and he knew it.

“Why are you even here?”

“We're here to help,” Kotono answered.

“We're here to make sure you don't do anything that gets mentioned on Jezebel,” said Daryl “Again.”

“That wasn't my fault!”

Hearing his sister's voice get so unnaturally shrill made the puppet's blood go cold. Mackie stood there, closed his eyes and took one, two, three solid steps through the privacy curtain. Soft material carressed bare skin.

He breathed again, forcing it out of his mind.

“Is everything comfortable?” “Does it fit?”

He pressed both hands on a firm stomach.

“Uncomfortably comfortable.”

The only way he could really describe it. It came out with a strangled smile

“You mean?”

“I'm wearing high-heeled knee-boots, and a leotard.” The smile got worse. The body shivered.“It should feel worse.”

“But it doesn't?” said Daryl.

“It feels like it fits.”

Nothing pinching. Nothing tight. It reminded him exactly what was missing with each step. Each breath highlighted exactly what'd been added, cups squeezing firmly. He forced himself not to fidget with them in case anyone got the wrong idea.

The simple fact that he could look down Kotono's top for the first time in his life acted as icing on the cake. His Sister stood a head and shoulders taller than he did.

“It's okay to say it feels good,” said Kotono. “

He supposed she had a point. On it's own, without any of the body issues firing off in the back of his mind, whatever material it'd been made of really did feel kind of nice against bare skin.

“Look, Mackie, you're not the first guy to wake up after an accident with a little more up top, and a little less down below.”

Kotono giggled.

“It's been waved to make its wearer feel comfortable, no matter how they feel about their body. It helps people with body issues live their lives.”

“Don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't plan on spending the wrest of my life in your gender.”

Mackies hands found their way to his hips, software interpreting intent into action in a way that caused him to pause, then clench his fists.

“Well, I don't plan on allowing you to either, so we're in agreement.” Daryl smiled at him.

Mackie Breathed. The pair glanced at each other.

“So, Kotono, you were telling me about that guy you slept with last night,”

“Oh yeah. He had this awesome cock. Felt like it was longer than my arm, and probably as thick. He hit all my spots and then....mmmmm....I could feel him finish inside me.”

Both stared at him

“Oh look, you've made Miss Mackie blush.... could she still be innocent?”

“Oh my! We'll have to find someone to change that. I still have his number... ”

“SHUT UP!” It came out as a shriek, ringing back of the walls. “How would you like it if you woke up with a dick between your legs or something, huh?”

Kotono placed a slender finger to her lips. “Depends on who's it is....”

“Damn you.”

He shouldered her out of the way, taking one, two, three resolute steps towards the door. An arm blocked his path. He felt his fist clench, ready to put it through Daryl's face if she didn't move.

Her eyes dared him to try it.

“Mackie.” She placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, cooling him. “We're sorry. We thought you'd find it funny. We went too far”

He snarled through his teeth “There's nothing about this that's funny.”

“We know. That's why we thought you'd like a joke...” She offered him the weakest smile, cooling him off.

Her eyes still stared through him.

“I don't need a joke.” He breathed. Alien sensations fuelled a strangled frustration that burst through his lips. “I need my old body back!”

Daryl didn't move. She held him there with her hand.

Kotono opened her mouth. Two pairs of burning eyes encouraged her to swallow her words.

“Look, Mackie.” You have one advantage over everyone else in your situation.”

“What's that?” He scowled. “And don't tell me it's experience.”

“No,” she shook her head. “You know it's going to end some day soon and you'll get your own body back, or one like it. Most biomodded people don't get that.”

And that carried the weight of experience behind it.

“So maybe, think of it like a Holiday from being Mackie and all the stress of being yourself. A chance to try new things and find answers to questions you wouldn't dare ask.”

Mackie took another breath, closing his eyes to gather his nerves. He shrugged Daryl's hand off his shoulder.

“You know.” he said, finding it hard to look up. “I really don't want anyone to think I'm doing anything creepy. I know what people expect of me,”

“Well,” she smirked at him. “You kinda earned that.”

--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Driving in heels took a little more dexterity than normal, but he managed. At least the Warthog's suspension kept things from jiggling too much. Not enough to feel normal. But manageable.

It gave his mind something to focus on, keeping his thoughts off the little niggles like how he constantly hit the wrong buttons thanks to too-long fingers, or the way the puppet's knee kept hitting the bottom of the dash, or his arms brushing against his chst each time he turned the wheel.

He raced through the old tunnels, leaving behind the usual public areas. An emergency door opened to the Warthog's transponder, giving access to a part of Frigga nobody else supposedly knew about.

He drove forward again, until not even Exocomps where there to watch him as he dismounted from the idling Warthog.

Mackie screamed.

He kicked, punched and battered his frustrations out against the tyres of the Warthog, steel bootheel gouging a scratch in the wheel's blue paint.

He screamed until his lungs burned and punching until the puppet's knuckles wore raw, before collapsing to his knees, panting.

“Damn it...” he panted. “Damn it all.”

He sat on cold stone, chips biting a the bare skin of his hips.

He placed his hands on his chest, taking a full, deep breath, trying to ignore a dozen crackling sensations that demanded a finger caress. An empty space between his legs demanded something. He closed his eyes, waiting for the clamour to die down.

Just a few weeks.

He could manage.

At least, he thought, they hadn't put him back in that bloody jet. Two legs. Two hands. Two eyes. He could put up with all the rest for a short while if he didn't have to put up with that.

A dozen trains of thought at once inside a mind large enough to monitor thousands of datastreams simultaneously making miniscule adjustments a thousand times every operating second. Sensors capable of seeing the universe in lurid gamma-ray detail, spotting houses and cars from planetary orbit.

And no fingers to grasp, hands to build, mouth to eat or face to smile. Able to race across the sky, but forced to live in a cold, empty hanger with no human contact for weeks at a time.

With four beautiful women aboard, visible on thermal, ultaviolet and visual cameras designed for fire-protection and crew-monitoring, but perpetually out of reach of a body with no sense of touch. Forced to watch in minute, gigapixel detail, unable to act.

At least he could spend the next couple of weeks in a quiet workshop – it'd give him an excuse to get his head down on things that needed to be finished. And maybe take advantage of being head, shoulders and chest taller.

The doorway to the Silky Doll acted almost as a portal to another world, a small bubble of Megatokyo transported to a chamber deep in the centre of Frigga. He opened what he remembered as the penthouse lift door, stepping through into the top floor of the Lady 633.

Heeled feet sank into lush carpet as he strode across the living area floor. The sweet scent of lavender perfume mixed with fresh-roast coffee and a faint thingle of cigarette smoke. Outside, the noise of the city street far below filtered through open ceiling height windows, a cool evening breeze carrying the sound of a distant chopper.

The city of Megatokyo. In hologram. It felt more like home.

He dropped onto his favourite couch, letting his body sink into soft foam. He lay there, grasping at the sensations drifting back from his body, trying to tamp them down.

A cold shadow crossed over him.


He jumped upright, half startled and half wondering how she'd just snuck up on him like that. Jet dropped herself into the reinforced chair opposite, metal frame creaking out a protest.

“So. How're you finding your first time wearing high heels?”

A big Sister smile on her face took the sting out of it. Down here, he could say anything. He sat up, placing both feet on the ground, looking down at them as he scrunched his toes inside his boots. “Easier than I thought...”

“Just remember, that body's built for it,” she said. “It's not really a woman's body, but an imitation of one.”

He looked up. “It's still weird.” His legs crossed themselves over their own accord. A moment's conscious resistance undid it, letting him plant both feet on the ground again, before eventually he allowed the body to do what felt comfortable for itself.


“Well, I keep bumping these things everytime I try and reach for something,” he poked a finger into the bare side of one of his breasts, drawing an involuntary shudder. “They're kind of annoying.”

“They can be.” A soft chuckle rose from her throat. “They can be a lot of fun too, in the right pair of hands.”

He growled, shaking his head. “Not you too..”


He looked up. “The other two gave me hell with teasing.”

“I didn't mean it that way.”

“Then how?”

“Call it a suggestion,” she said, with a straight face. “That's your body for at least the next few weeks. Whatever you want to do with yourself is your own perogative.”

More like she was telling him how to get the best out of a new pair of runners, than giving him permission to indulge every single teenage fantasy she was certain he had to be having.

Every muscle in his body screwed itself tight at the idea. “But I don't really want to.”

“I understand,” she said, softly.

He got the feeling she didn't. Not really. He sat there, not really sure how to follow it up. Why? That'd just open up avenues for her to try and convince him it'd be fun, or it'd take the edge off the weirdness.

“I've been talking in the back channels. There's been four other crashes in the same area. All fatal. You're the first survivor. But that hasn't been reported yet.”

His Jaw hinged slowly open. “But...”

“If someone shot you down, the only reason you're still alive is because they thought you were dead – they didn't realise you weren't human.”

Mackies mouth went bone dry. His Sister's glacier eyes seemed to stare right through him.

“If you want. I will put the order in with either A.C., of VF – whoever's got the shortest lead time – and get you out of that body as soon as we can.” His sister spoke like was speaking to glass rather than a person. He braced himself. This could only be going one direction. “Or, for the time being, you go missing. We let them think they killed you....”

Her eyes sparked with mischief.

“....and you go get them,” he finished. His fist clenched.

“I do that anyway,” she said, firmly. “But it might give me a better chance, if they don't know I'm looking for them.”

And now began the snowball process of making it permanent, in spite of himself and everything he wanted. That's how it worked. He glared, ready to snap it back at her even as he struggled to find the right words beyond 'Fuck off'.

“I can't ask you. And I won't try and convince you. It's your decision Mackie, and yours alone.”

That stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Can I think about it?”

She smiled at him. “Tell me tomorrow, if you want. I've worked to do tonight.”

“Right,” he breathed. “Tomorrow.”

“I left a few things in your room,” Jet said. “If you want to try them, it's OK. If not, it's up to you. In case you get curious, but're too afraid to ask.”

Not afraid, he thought. Another heavy hand fell on his shoulder, cold fingers soaking the heat out of him.

“Like I said, for the next few weeks, that's your body, not mine. Whatever you do yourself and how far you go, it's your call.”

He breathed, holding his tongue. Waiting for her to get it over with.

“There's just one rule. Try enjoy yourself. Very few people get the chance to spend some time in someone else's shoes.”

He frowned. “High Heels?

She smirked. “I bet it feels good to stand a little taller?”

He knew the answer expected of him.

“I can look down so many cleavages!”

It came out just a little bit hollow, but his Sister still smiled. Maybe she thought he was just being himself, or maybe she just understood the effort. It still made him feel better.

“Night Mackie.”

Jet left him alone with his thoughts. An attempt to pretend nothing had happened was dashed the moment his Sister's reflection in the glass windows startled him. A meal of ramen and a few hours gaming beneath the anonymity of an Xbox tag helped take the edge off, his mind losing itself in the hunt for Boskone fighters.

It lasted until he accidentally switched on voice chat.

“Holy shit, you're a chick,”

The fun ended soon after.

His favourite manga had lost it's sheen. All it achieved was to remind him of his situation.

He tried some of the guides that'd been produced by the Millenium, but quickly concluded that none of them really applied to his particular situation.

Mackie decided to sleep instead. One day over, meant one day closer to being himself again.

Sitting on his bed, folded in neat piles, a collection of his Sister's clothes. Ranging from the racy, to the saucy, to a few items from Sylia's own wardrobe. Most of them flagged with handwritten notes telling him how to put them on, why he'd want to wear them, and the sort of reactions people might have. Some Cosplya items offered an amusing alternative – Dirty Pair's Kei, and Cutey Honey. A suggestion to try on someone else's identity for size, offering a break from his own.

The colourful selection of toys left beside them were quickly dumped in a box under his bed.


“Flaps. Flaps”

Servo's whined, fighting against jammed metal.

Less than a hundred meters. Too low to eject. Over 500kph relative velocity. The moon's surface ripped past beneath, magnificent desolation blurred into a monochrome smear by raw speed. Mackie jostled the flaps, trying to keep the light fighter flying, trying to pitch the nose up.

He struggled to breath, fighting against the dying fighter as it tried to auger itself into one last death spiral. High Alpha and top-rudder kept it on the razor's edge of stable. Fuel sprayed from broken tanks, leaving a pale vapour trail behind. Another orange annunciator flashed up on his visor.



GPWS came alive.



A mountain flashed by, a column of dust chasing after. He fired the nose thrusters, hoping to push it level enough to eject. One failed with a red light and a hollow Bong Bong in his ear.



The fighter snapped against itself, the moon's horizon turning past vertical, filling the monitor. A stomp on the rudder pedal held the nose level just long enough to let him hope he might get it back.

A sharp boulder tore the remains of the right wing clean off, shattering it.

The window filled with a smeared view of regolith, frozen for a microsecond.

PULL UP, advised the GPWS in it's disinterested monotone. Chimes sounded.

“No...” he managed to say. I'm dead, he thought. Death reached up and his whole world shattered, cockpit, body, then mind.

A heartbeat later, he sat upright in his bed, drenched in sweat, lightweight sheets pooled around his waist. His hands shot to his chest, a quick squeeze confirming the worst. Around him, darkness, only a few cracks of sunlight through the blackout curtains.

His room. It still smelled of him – a sort of lingering body odour like the inside of a gym bag, mingling with old glue, machine oils and the lavender perfume his Sister liked.


At least.

The ringing in his dream still sounded in the back of his mind. It took a moment for him to find the source - the PC monitor beside his bed that'd been turned into something resembling a videofax. One of these days they'd get it to display proper caller I.D. Sighing, he pushed a key to accept the call.

The channel opened. A.C. gazed out of the screen.

“Hey. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already up.” Mackie verbally waved off, consciously not shrugging.

“Jet’s filled me in and, well,” here A.C. shrugged in a surprisingly barely distracting fashion give the neckline on the top Mackie could see, “I figured I’d be a little more qualified to offer advice that she is.” There was only a slightly mischievous twinkle in her emerald eyes. “For one thing, don’t sleep naked the first few nights. That just makes it worse.”

“The ventilation system broke.” Mackie said grumpily. “It’s thirty degrees in here.”

“At least it isn’t because your clothes got stolen.” A.C. said semi-philosophically.

Mackie stared at the screen. Green eyes stared back, penetrating.

“Quirk blowback.” A.C. told the nude redhead. “I’ve got plenty of space if you need a quiet place to pass the time in privacy, I'll have Libbie and Kasumi prepare some quarters. Eddie has read over some of the work you've done, and he'd be happy to spend some time working with you while we design your new body.” The quirked smile on the cyberneticist’s face was wry. “Could even wrangle you some extra credit.”

A nervous quiver rolled up his spine. As much as he ached to get a chance to use tools and equipment a decade ahead of anything Nekomi had, something made him scramble for a polite way to turn down the opportunity of a lifetime His Sister'd given him one already.

“Thanks, but I’m going to help my sister with the investigation.” Mackie folded his arms with a scowl.

“Under, not over.” A.C. interjected, freezing the android. “More comfortable in general.”

Mackie carefully refolded his arms.

“Ah well.” The raven haired woman on the screen said. “Shame, you would have loved the cheesecake. So,” She went on brightly, once again distracting Mackie from her thoughts on her brush with mortality, “that leave two topics. First off, clothes.”
Mackie wondered what she meant, then tried to suppress a shudder. A.C. noticed.

“Given your sister’s tastes, you probably want something a bit more…O.K., not plain with that figure, but ordinary. That’ll arrive shortly, what with the noise over things. No, what will be the tricky thing for you is expectations. Don’t try to ‘slob-out’, it’ll bug you even if it’s comfortable, due to how your body moves now.” A.C. cocked her head slightly, thinking. “Jeans, straight cut. Simple pullovers. That’ll be better for you while everything else gets sorted. And Jet’ll be comfortable in them later.”

“OK, point.” Mackie said after a few moments thought. “Not what I’d expect sis to wear, but it fits.”

“Second,” A.C.’s voice hardened, “how are your acting skills?”

“What?” Mackie asked, confused.

“You’ll be backstopping then.” A.C. decided. “Better that way.”

Mackie blinked his eyes, trying to figure out how that was decided for her.

“Mackie,” A.C.’s tone was matter-of-fact, “that body is known as Jet’s. If you could act like her you’d have already have considered it as a method of distraction. And no, you can’t just add drivers to help for this, I can tell you’re having problems with what that body’s speced too. That also means you’re not jumping into a hardsuit. Muse support and skillsofts may cover a multitude of sins, but you need to work with them and you won’t learn to do that so fast. DON’T even think about it.” The cyborgs voice changed to what Mackie’d heard called her 'Mars' voice by the senshi for that last, a combination of command, wisdom, and warning at a low tone that seemed to bypass your ears and got directly to the brain. Now that he experienced it for herself, Mackie easily called it a Leader voice. Not just command, but like Optimus Prime was disappointed in you for something he knew you'd think and knew you knew would be bad.

“You don’t want to go there Mackie.” A.C. added, voice lighter and more caring.

Mackie sat there, aware that he might've just dodged a bullet, but not quite sure what sort of bullet he'd just dodged. It started the gears turning in the back of his mind, mingling with the uneasy feeling that maybe she knew him better than he knew himself.

The image of of AC on the monitor took a breath. Mackie's eyes dropped slowly from her face, lingering a moment until he felt his own breasts swell in response.

An Alto chuckle warned him that he'd been caught, the mischievous smile on her face reminding him that she wasn't the only one showing a little skin.

He swallowed the lump.

“Thanks for calling. I really need to get some sleep before tomorrow,”

An excuse, really. She probably knew, but didn't call him on it.

“If you need to talk, or change your mind if it gets too much, you know how to get in touch.”

“Thanks,” he said again, forcing a smile.

The monitor went dark, leaving the lingering ghost of A.C's smile to quicken Mackie's heart. At least, like that, he was still himself. He flopped back down, the bounce of his chest making him squirm a little inside.

“Just a few weeks,” he whispered, turning over onto his side. His toes kneaded on the silken bedsheet he'd been given, wrapping it around his legs.

This. This feels good.

--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
You seem to be missing a bit between Mackie waking and A.C. being on screen.
*chuckles* Considering some of the detail, this might need a NSFW label. Very nicely done.
Oh. As a side note, don't forget that Cyberdyne sells the T-800/T-900 Series ("Just Add Skin!") bodies at this point in time.
With additions by Matrix Dragon


Morning time arrived with the artificial sun high above the Horizon.

Mackie tried to ignore it.

His body insisted otherwise.

The bathroom offered no relief, only an unwelcome reminder. He dithered on whether or not to have a shower, before finally succumbing to the inevitable. Best not to slob around. Take it from someone who knew better.

Hot water found it's own natural course, as much as he didn't want to, slithering along parts of his body he tried to ignore.

His sister's naked body confronted him in the mirror again as he stepped out.

After few attempts at dressing himself, he settled on the combination he found most comfortable, and left it at that. They didn't match, but they kept everything in it's right place and didn't try to climb into any nooks and crannies. A light bathrobe kept the cold air off.

He took his usual place at his computer, looking for a quick escape from the reality of his situation. Bubblegum Pink had suddenly become a lot less amusing.

Even the simple act of sitting at his computer and browsing the internet was proving to be an exercise in frustration. He'd browse game sites and twitter, delicate fingers constantly mistyping, starting to relax into his chair. Then he'd make a mistake that reminded him of his situation and snap back to reality. He'd click on one of his bookmarks without thinking, presenting him with images he'd normally welcome and drawing unexpected reactions from his body. Leaning back would shift his weight, breasts rubbing against his blouse. The programmed instincts that would make him cross his shapely legs, the tight pants sliding over sensitive skin...

The urge to scream returned with a vengeance.

Just before Mackie could give into that temptation, a feminine giggle cut through his anger. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so determined to resist the urge for a little self-exploration.” Mackie jumped slightly in his chair, emitting a girlish squeak of surprise, then turned towards the door. Despite the fact he was sure it had been closed and locked, it was now open wide, a small and very curvy Orion woman leaning against the frame and grinning playfully at him.

“You do realize,” Chris Wood said, after waiting for Mackie to get over the burst of libido he always suffered from when he saw her, “that I am passing up a magnificent opportunity for revenge here.” Blinking, Mackie managed to stop staring at her body and looked up at her face, confusion on his own. "Camera drones. On my ship. In my shower," she reminded him, smirking slightly as Mackie winced. That hadn't been one of his brightest ideas. "Luckily for you, I can be merciful."

Mackie Jaguar was hardly a fool. Eyes darting down to the womans very generous chest again, which was straining the t-shirt she was wearing to its limits, he realized at least part of what her revenge would have been. His libido and this body were already an unpleasant combination. He didn't want to imagine what the Orion could do to him if she actually put some effort into it. "I... I certainly appreciate that," he replied, managing to pull his gaze back up to her face. "So if you're not here for that...?"

Grinning, Chris stepped out into the hallway, returning a moment later with a large duffel bag. "Clothes," she explained, tossing the bag onto the teens lap. "Everything's pretty simple. Pants, shirts, underwear that wasn't purchased for the sole purpose of cooking Ford's brain," she said dryly. Mackie's cheeks reddened as he remembered the bra and panties he currently had on. “None of it’s ‘waved, except for the shoes,” she added. “They’ll compensate for your need for heels. The rest is all normal, so it might not feel as comfortable as that Senshi gear, but I get the feeling you’d prefer that.” At his raised eyebrow, she shrugged. “Disturbingly comfortable clothes messed with my head early on too.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding in agreement. Unzipping the duffel bag, he considered the collection of clothes for a moment. “I thought A.C. was taking care of this.”

“She called me in,” Chris replied. “I was on Earth anyway. And she’s no fool. She knows that her definition of ‘casual clothing’ is a little… off by everyone else's standards.” She giggled as Mackie considered that. “If you’d ever gone shopping with her, you’d know what I mean.” The teenager froze, his mind clearly imagining A.C. Peters in such a situation. Giving him a moment to imagine the woman in all sorts of revealing outfits and non-existent underwear, Chris rolled her eyes. “Yo, Mackie!” she said, snapping her fingers and making him jump. “Daydream later. For now, you need to get changed.”

“... I do?”

Nodding, she brushed a loose strand of long green hair back over her ear. “Void Eagles engines are due for a service, remember?”

Frowning, Mackie checked his mental calendar. “That’s not until next month,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but I’m here now, it needs to be done, and really, can you think of a better distraction than pulling some engines apart?”

Laughing, and trying to ignore the way it sounded, even to him, Mackie stood up and dropped the duffel bag on his bed. “Okay, I’m sold. Just give me a minute to get changed…” he paused, glancing over at Chris, and gave her a smile that, unknown to him, his body translated to sultry and inviting. “Unless you’d like to help me undress?”

Giggling, the small woman walked back into the hall. “Sorry kid, you’ve got nothing there I’m interested in,” she said, closing the door behind her. Mackie pouted, then started getting out of the nightgown

Work lifted his mood.

It took his mind off things, for the most part. Even though his arms caught on his chest and he noticed he could reach machinery that would've needed a stepladder before, just the act of getting focused on something helped.

It ended far too quickly, despite his best efforts to extend the work with some extra calibration. The engines roared to life, finding their voice in a tight hangar. A few tight collimator adustments eked another quantum of efficiency out of the thruster..

“I'm just glad I'm not paying you hourly.”

A sour little voice dragged him out of it, putting him back into a pair of heeled boots.

“Just a little more. I think I can get ninety.”

A sympathethic look passed across her face, before she took a breath.“I've an appointment to make on Ganymede,”

His shoulders fell. He closed the panel. “Alright. She's good to fly”

Mackie jumped down off the hull, landing with more grace that he'd even thought possible. Chris blinked, caught by surprise.

“Ah, What do I owe you?”

“Call it a fair trade for the clothes,” Makie forced himself to smile, tugging on a t-shirt that still clung a little tighter than he would've liked.

“Well, those are a slightly different size and shape to natural ones.” She cupped her own to demonstrate for a second.

“Slightly.” Mackie's whole body pulled itself taught. The word 'sexaroid' fluttered through his mind again. An idealised creation, rather than anything at all attainable in nature.

“I've a crew spot available. Could use a good man for a few short trips, to keep everything running.”

Mackie winced. Definitely not. “I told someone I'd help my sister investigate.”


“Fastest way back to normal,” he forced a smile.

They walked together, Mackie's heels clicking on the concrete. He'd hang around until she left, just to make sure nothing had been overlooked. He hoped he'd overlooked something, just enough to get back to work again.

All looked annoyingly well, up until Chris spoke.

“What's that?”

His hopes collapsed when she pointed right at the half finished remains of a Mig fighter, still missing most of it's outer skin.

“That's the Rebecca Brown,” he said, feeling that spark of pride fill his chest. “We built three for SHIELD. They took Taylor Hebert and Theresa Richter, but pulled the money before we finished building Becky.”

Chris giggled “That was cruel.”

“Yeah.,” Mackie frowned, giving the frame a forelorn look. “And I did something really special with the engines too.”

“No. Pulling names from that serial for a JLI jet?”

“Their own fault.” he shrugged. His hands twitched as he snapped back on the urger to stop his chest from bouncing. Chris struggled to hide her giggle. Mackie forced himself to keep speaking. “Had someone along to inspect the first one and they just had to comment that it didn't look like a hero's jet.” He looked at Chris, who hadn't stopped looking at him. “She'll have to be cut up in a few weeks if nobody buys her.”

“Shame,” she sighed. She stopped at the portside hatch, putting one foot on the deck. “Last chance Mackie.”

“Nah,” He breathed. “I'm good.”

Mackie watched the Void Eagle leave from a cabin on the old crane gantry, not sure whether he'd dodged a bullet or missed an opportunity.

It could be both.

The comm-link in his pocket buzzed. He snatched it out, fumbling with it before it made things too ucomfortable. It clipped from his fingers. He caught it before it hit the ground.

Jet had returned.

--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?

Mackie decided to ignore the sign on the door banning men from this part of the Silky Doll. Whether it counted as a liberty or not, he didn't care. He knew the password. The door opened and he stepped inside a plush apartment, transplanted from another world.The scent of coffee crawled inside his nostrils, tugging at his stomach.

The pot sat empty on the table, beside an idle desktop. A plate glass window looked out over a holographic Megatokyo, living in a simulation. His feet soaked into the carpet.

The right combination of keys on the computer keyboard unlocked the doorway hidden in the glass, a single pane thinking, then hinging open. The sounds of the city filtered in, filling the room.

Mackie strode like a high-heeled Godzilla through the display, buildings folding like fog around his legs. Another hatch unlocked with hard tug, pulling him into a world smelling of ozone and machine oil.

The door closed itself with a hard clunk behind him. A short staircase carried him down to the core of the Doll – the hardsuit room. Fixed to a rack along one wall, trailing cables, four hardsuits stood looking at him. For the fist time, he met them at eye level, his sister's reflection distorting across the polished paintwork.

Something A.C. had said filtered into his mind

It would fit.

If there was one item of women's clothing he didn't mind trying on, it'd be his sister's hardsuit. Just to see...


A guilty thrill ran up his spin as she spun on a heel to face a bright smile on a familiar face. It almost felt for a moment like he'd been caught doing something illicity. He stopped a moment before his breasts did, cringing as they bounced.

“Hey sis,” he said, before noting the grey scuffs across her armour. Fine dust gathered in the gaps in her armour, on her hips, under her breasts and on her neck. “Where did you go?”

“Moon. Left a few things near the wrecksite, to see if anybody showed up or did anything noisy. ”

He tried to read her expression. Something about her eyes unsettled him in a way he couldn't quite place.

“Now, let's chat in the break room. We have to get ready.”

Mackie nodded and followed. He couldn't help but notice how they almost walked in lockstep with each other. His sister's hips swung to the same rhythm as his own, back and forth with each step. He forced himself to take smaller steps, stumbled, then forced himself to look at the machinery around him to avoid noticing. Cutting tools, armour press, hanging frames for prototype hardsuits. Spare parts on a workbench. His reflection washed over all of them.

“A.C. contacted me last night,”he said, clasping his hands shut.

“She told me,” Jet answered

“She scared me,”

“She can be a little intense at times.” And he got the sense that she chose that word very carefully. “But she'd never do anything – or let you agree to do anything – that you didn't really want to do.”

Mackie shivered, cold fingers running through his legs and up his spine.

“It's not that...”

“What?” she pushed.

“I was afraid I wouldn't want to leave,” he said. “I'd get so wrapped up in it, and that'd mean staying like this rather than just getting out as soon as possible.”

She stopped, standing in the doorway. Both their postures mirrored each other for a heartbeat. Mackie raised his arms limply in front of himself, slowly crossing them over his stomach. Her eyes pinned him in place again.

“Don't be a martyr for yourself,” said Jet. “You don't have to make yourself miserable now just to prove a point. All you do is hurt yourself in the long run. ”

He looked away, “I don't want people to think I wanted this....”

“Nobody does.” her voice softened. But those glacier eyes still froze. He knew her well enough to know what thet meant.

Mackie followed her into the break room, sitting himself in a succulent leather sofa hat tried to absorb his body. Hi sister dropped her full weight onto another, the chair cracking in protest.

“I read some of the Senshi stuff, last night,” Mackie said, choosing to ignore how his legs had crossed themselves again.“It started talking about the rest of my life and how to remain positive and find things to build a foundation on, and I really don't want to do that. It feels like everyone's trying to convince me it's wrong to want to be myself.”

Maybe she'd get it. He looked up at her, silently pleading.

“That stuff's for people who don't have a choice,” said Jet, shooting him down. “None of us are the ever same person we were yesterday. Don't be afraid of becoming someone new tomorrow.”

“But I like who I am.”

It came out as more of a whine than statement.

“Well. It's not too late to hop a shuttle to the Forge to hide out there,” she offered. “But if you want to stay here and find who shot you down, we need to sit down and talk about your cover.”

Both ideas warred with themselves in his mind. His mind warred against them both. Something screwed itself tight inside him


He gave in. She wouldn't get it. But Mackie decided to trust his sister. She wouldn't hurt him.

“So, who do you want to be?”


She frowned. “If you really want to do this, we need to build a cover identity.”

“I've never created a person before.”

“You ever write a fenfic?”


Nothing he'd admit to publicly. Certainly not in his current condition.

“The mark of a good female protagonist in any sort of media, is that even the men are thinking, I want to be her, when she does something awesome.” She paused, leaning forward. “Is there anyone that makes you feel like that?”

He settled back. “Not like that.”

“Any game characters you like play?”

I already know a Xiao Lin, he thought.

“I like playing Gaige in Borderlands.”

“Right. That's your name. Gaige.” Just like that, a new name for a new person. “We need a Surname, and since you have the red hair and the body for it, how about Kisaragi?”

“Gaige Kisaragi?” he tried it. Something felt wrong, but he coudn't wrap his mind around it. He thought about asking his Sister to stop, but she seemed so certain. He had agreed to this?

“It's an obvious alias, but then, you're obviously not a born woman.” A pause, he opened his mouth. “You don't be a troubleshooter for ten years without learning a thing or two about building a person.”

“Gaige Kisaragi,” he tried again. His body rebelled against the idea. A deep breath brought it under control.

“Nice to meet you, I'm Jet Jaguar,” she grinned. He ground his face into an approximation of a smile. “Now, Gaige. Where do you come from, and what do you do?” She paused. “What do you want to do?

“Be a man?” Mackie answered with a snort. Jet didn't laugh.

“That's you. Gaige isn't you. What does Gaige want to do?”

That hurt. He thought anyway. What would he want to do?

“I want to get back in a jet.”

“Great. Asagiri needs a new test-pilot, our last one went missing on the moon.”

That stung. He swallowed. She seemed so certain, staring right through him. He trusted her. He tried it on.

“I'm Gaige Kisaragi, Asagiri's new test Pilot.”

Jet nodded and smiled with her approval. It still felt wrong.

“Where're you from?”

“Tokyo, Japan?” At least, that's what his mind told him.

“Tokyo isn't MegaTokyo.”

“Damn,” he breathed.

“Maybe a Fenspace settlement?” she suggested.

“Crystal Kyoto,” he tried, hoping that maybe going along with it would make the sick feeling go away. “I'm Gaige Kisaragi, Asagiri's new test pilot, from Crystal Kyoto,”

It felt worse. She nodded, dragging him along, pulling him through. Again, he thought about asking her to stop, sitting there, looking down at his feet in the carpet

“All Pilot's have callsigns. And since no pilot gets to choose to their own callsign, how do you like being Rabbit?”


“As in, Jessica Rabbit. Or Rampant Rabbit, it depends on the story that comes with it.”

Her eyes sparked in amusement. He winced, the mental image making his insides clench. His mind worked, coming up with something better, something tolerable.

“I had trouble with something, because of my body. Someone said it was my fault. I answered with, I can't help it, I'm built that way.”

“That works. How about, you had trouble buckling the harness on your jet tight enough. For two obvious reasons?”

His arms covered his chest as he crunched his body up in the chair “I didn't think that'd be a problem”

“Conventional harnesses hurt when you're that busty.”

Mackie took a breath, forcing the sick feeling through to his feet.

“I'm Gaige 'Rabbit' Kisaragi, Asagiri's new test pilot, from Crystal Kyoto.”

“And that's all we need to make a person,” she sat back into her chair. He knew she'd already done it through the interwave as she sat there. Gaige now existed on the system. “That's the great thing about the Crystal Millenium. It's not unusual for a Senshi to have no pre-fen background. That's all you need. Wherever you learned to fly, who your parents were, or what bathroom you used growing up, all of that's your own personal business. So long as you tell no-one anything, nobody will question it.”

And she seemed satisfied with that. Pleased even, smiling warmly at him as if to welcome into the club, as if she hadn't even noticed how he felt about it all. Or maybe she did and was trying to reassure him

“I'm Gaige 'Rabbit' Kisaragi, Asagiri's new test pilot, from Crystal Kyoto.” It still didn't fit. He hunched forwards. “I feel like a traitor.”

To himself. To everything he had been.

“When we're done, We'll know who Gaige is. What she likes, what she doesn't like,” said Jet, dragging him onwards. “Because outside this apartment, that's who you have to be. At least for the next few weeks.”

Mackie sat there, leaning with his elbows on his knees as they moved forward, unable to shake the feeling that he was being slowly murdered.
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
from: ChrisWood@VoidShipping.fen
to: ford.sierra@heavyarms.fen
subj: It’s a boy!

Just finished up with Mackie. Unsurprisingly, he’s handling it worse than I did back in the day. But given he doesn’t have the ‘wave performing some spring cleaning in his head, I pretty much expected that. He’s uncomfortable, second-guessing his movements, and the reactions the body takes to everything is driving him absolutely batty. But, based off his overall behaviour, and some of the answers I got out of him while he was distracted with engineering issues, he’s coping about as well as I’d hoped. And his self-image is still completely male.

He IS having a bit of an identity crisis though, probably based off the fact the face in the mirror belongs to someone else, as far as he’s concerned. A.C. let slip that the idea of having him operate under a cover identity had been raised. If you do go with that plan, please be careful. The poor boy’s already paranoid about who he is right now.

Also, warn the girls to be very careful about how far they push their teasing. Mackie is very close to the point where he stops using his imagination for perving, and starts using it for revenge. And there are few things more terrifying than an engineer on the warpath. Seriously, if Minnie May pushes it that far, I’m letting someone else deliver to Frigga for a while.
From: Miyuri.Akisato(a)ultima.stellvia.fen
To: Anika.Daini(a)friggarock.fen
Subj: RE: I have to let you know.

That's not good. If M is having trouble with a false ID already, there's going to be some real problems once M uses that false ID in public. Too bad we can't bring Kohran in to give M some acting lessons, but - well, security risk now that she's on Deimos full-time.

Worse news: Takami called, asking me to ask you who the obvious plant is. (Her exact words. Yes, she's still having some trouble relating to people - we've got to find her a boyfriend.) Seems she read the new callsign list when she grabbed it for Yayoi, connected the callsign "Rabbit" to "Usagi" and then to "Sailor Moon" (I don't know why), and wondered who was trying to use that callsign with the Senshi. I asked how long I'd have to ask you before somebody in the Sammie hierarchy noticed - she told me a couple of weeks, tops. You'd better spread a story about how that callsign was picked before somebody in charge starts asking about it. (You do have a story, right?)

Do you want me to come visit? I got a new maple-cheesecake recipe from Kasumi, which is reason enough for me to come see you.

Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012
from: [Ford Sierra]
to: [Chris Wood]
RE: It's a boy

Minnie's in the Dark on this for just that reason. I'm thinking of sending her on a milk-run with some deliveries but she already knows 'something' is up. I'm not sure it's a bad thing for someone to encourage him *a little* to break the self imposed taboo and relax. But Minnie's the wrong person to do it.

The whole cover identity thing wasn't my idea, but its happening. I thinkJet wants at least let him live without locking him into a safe hole somewhere where he'll just be frustrated on his own - at least he'll be able to find things to keep his mind off it. I don't know what Jet's thinking otherwise, she took the news pretty hard and I thought she'd settle down after we salvaged Mackie but if anything she's gone up a gear. She hasn't been like this in a long time...

As for teasing, you *know* what Senshi can be like sometimes - especially with a body like that. We're lucky most just think of 'her' as just another fresh fish washed up by the wave, rather than realising it's Mackie himself. The terrible twins aren't being too hard. The local Rose Duellists are already saying positive things and thinking of approaching 'her' to join. And then we have a post on the local BBS calling 'her' just another half-baked over-boobed insult to real feminists who had to struggle all their lives rather than take the easy route through growing up - the usual self-righteous woe-is-my-life sort of shit. There's always a couple of those.

-Purveyor of finest quality Chicago Typewriters.


From: Anika.Daini(a)friggarock.fen
To: Miyuri.Akisato(a)ultima.stellvia.fen
Subj: RE: I have to let you know.

I think the plan was the creat a part there'd be no problem with her playing. (That feels even wrong to type knowing who I'm talking about). Gaige is a pilot, a wannabee racer who's supposed to be training to fill in for Daryl next season. There wouldn't be much acting involved, really. Everything else about her past is 'private'.

Your guess is a good as mine on the Rabbit thing or where it comes from. The interwave went into some weird places quickly when I looked up references for pilots, women and rabbits. Maybe it's some joke on being a 'girls best friend' or something. Maybe the whole point of this is a nickname so embarrasing nobody dares ask about it to spare the blushes, so nobody ever has to create a story to begin with. Creating afull story just begs people to poke wholes in it, so let the story creates itself, like Gaige's past and people will make something that fits what they see. People's imaginations will do better than anyone here can. There're a few people here already running with the implications....

The last week has been pretty intense, I don't think Jet's even slept since she got the news and I've been busy the whole time working on putting things together, so I could use a sweet cheesecake break.

--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
To: (Jet Jaguar)
From: (James Bostwick)
Re: Investigation

Jet;Found the launch site after several false starts. The pictures of the results are in the usual secure location. Unfortunately we are facing a lack of distinct evidence to whom is responsible When we find the bastards that did this and I will personally string them up by their cajones and hand you the baseball bat. He was a good kid.

To: (James Bostwick)
From: (Jet Jaguar)
RE: Investigation

Tell me you didn't lready go there in the open and start traipsing around? We're trying to keep the fact that we're looking for them a secret so they don't turtle up and hide and make our job a dozen times harder. There's been 4 'accidents', all of them with no survivors. That means whatever they were doing, it was there and was fixed down and was worth killing people to hide.

And might still be. Marius Hills is a warren of old lava tubes. Lun is going to scan them from orbit, once we have a reason to send her to the moon without raising eyebrows.

By now they probably know they shot my brother down. But they don't know I know and I want to keep it that way. Because if they're shooting down people who fly overhead then they're doing something they don't want anyone to see, and I want to see what that is before they move it.


Why yes, someone is being a bit snappy..... why do you ask?
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?

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