Drunkard's Walk Forums

Being on holidays is doing interesting things to my creativity.

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From: jet.jaguar@frigga.fen
To: Contacts.Primary
Subj: It's like Bubblegum Crisis, meets Megazone 23, meets GiTS, meets the 1980's, and a little Robocop, filmed through a GoPro.

Or, how we're trying to sell more than four of these heavy motoroids.

We came this close to hiring a proper anime studio to do this for us. But, well, the permits for Kandor alone for 8 hours were nasty. And even then we were limited to a single block. Still, it's done, and done with all the slickness we could manage with GoPro cameras and some motorcycles we had lying around on Frigga, along with music stolen from the original OVA. So... not slick at all. But there is a plot, beyond showing off the Judy, and there is some fanservice, at least.

The result's about five minutes long. You can find it on our webchannel. ReAnimation is encouraged. Depending on the response, we might even do more - or stick to our day jobs.

Kudos to Shinji and Yuu for playing with us.

Enjoy.

-Jet
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Quote:Cold striplights on the ceiling fight a loosing war with the gloom as she creeps along the corridor. She's wearing tight, dark leather, patches of kevlar armour catching the light. It hugs her figure tightly - a necessity to keep the armour from shifting in a crash even if it does limit her movement.

Searching for her, blocky security drones patrol, drifting silently along the corridors using their A-G generators. The only sounds are the hard soles of her boots rapping against the concrete floor, the creaking of her leathers and her nervous breathing.

Her face hides behind a motorcyclists helmet, liquid reflections of light flowing across the laquered surface of her helmet. She slips into a doorway, pushing herself hard into the depths of a black shadow. The woman holds her breath, watching it drift by. The machine doesn't seem to notice or care. She waits anyway, peeking twice to make sure it's left before exhaling. She leaves her hiding place, cautiously advancing from shadow to shadow.

She ducks down another passageway, following a map projected on her old-model wrist-comm. It's battered and worn, with a bright slash across the face where something has cut into the protective screen cover. On it, bright yellow spots marking the detected locations of patrolling drones within a green wireframe maze. Her own self is marked in blue, with her destination flashing in red.

Less than twenty metres away.

She stops at an intersection, using a small mechanic's inspection mirror to confirm that the corridor is clear. Satisfied, she bolts, covering the distance as fast as her legs will carry her. Reaching her destination, she presses herself against the wall, beneath a plaque that reads:

OPR IMAGE STORE
AUTHORISED PERSONEL ONLY
CORPORATE EXTRATERRITORIAL DEFENSE PRIVILEGE APPLIES
YEBICHU CORPORATION

Beside it, a locked door, no different from any other along the corridor. She takes a breath, double-checking to make sure the coast is clear.

The door is locked. She unzips a pouch strapped to her hip, removing a hand-sized device that trails a snarl of cables. Working fast, she connects the cables to the interface for the door-lock, keying a code into the devices keypad. The metal fingers of her right hand clack unnaturally against the plastic keys.

AUTOSEQ flashes in red across a multi-segment LED display.

She holds her breath. Her heart beats in time with the pulsing display as the device works. She glances from side to side, aware that every moment she waits, is a moment for a drone to find her. Her free hand falls to a Cz-75 pistol holstered on her hip.
The device chimes. UNLOCKD flashes on it's display. She tries the handle on the door and it swings open. A fire extinguisher keeps it from locking again.

She slips inside, allowing it to lock behind her.

Rows of flickering green and orange LED's flicker in the dark. Her shadow swallows the lights as she passes in front of them, guided by her wristcom. A single LED shone a sharp white beam of light, illuminating each server in turn. The light pauses on one. She crouches over it, double-checking it. Network activity lights flicker in her visor, the reflection of the label smeared illegibly across translucent black.

She reaches in and removes the data drive, slipping it her jacket before running for the door.

Harsh white light floods the room, answered by strobing yellow lights mounted above the door. A lock-bolt slams ineffectively into open air.

The woman runs through the door. Drones are on their way.

Fade to titles
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Liberation 2024
- A story of Asagiri -

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She rounds a corner at a hard run, chased by shadowy figures and glinting blades. Gunfire strobes in the darkened corridor. Bullets nip at concrete by her feet. Waiting for her under a spotlight is a parked motorcycle. It's painted in a deep, lustrous metallic red, with pearlescent white accents. Sparkling reflections flow across chrome and steel like liquid. Shinning on the fuel tank is the manufacturer name.

Asagiri.

On it's flanks, the model:

Mz-23 Judy.

The Rider boards the motorcycle, her curvaceous bottom nestling into a sumptuous saddle. She reaches forward to grab both hand throttles, exposing both her cleavage, and the data-drive store haphazardly there. A turn of the key activates the machine, a low humm of electric power rising from the wheel-mounted motors. Headlights flicker to life, flooding the camber with a brilliant blue xenon arc-light. The digital instruments go through their pre-start checkups, guages shimmering into view in various cool shades of blue and green, sparks of yellow and red highlight various important information. On the centre console:

All Get Freed!

The Rider winds on to full throttle, and the motorcycle howls into the darkness, leaving red taillight-trails behind it.

Explosions shatter the ground where it'd been parked moments later, chased by speeding drones, and two black female riders on motorcycles emerging from the billowing smoke, riding rasping, buzzing black machines.

They tear off in pursuit.

---------------

The Director's office is dimly lit and barely ornamented.

He sits behind his spartan desk, face hidden behind steepled hands. He's chosen a youthful body that seems to be a little too small for the suit he wears. Still, his steel-blue eyes glare at a flickering monitor, reading the situation. Cables trail from his arms, connecting him to his workstation. Beside him, at her own desk, his youthful secretary monitors the situation on a boxy terminal.

She might almost be a child, she looks so young.

On his monitor, are the printed specifications for the Mz-23 JUDY - printed in wireframe green graphics. A pair of 500kW electric motors in both wheels. A pair of 2500kWh battery packs, and an addition 250kW fusion turbine generator, with Motorcycle, Jet-Cycle and Motoroid modes available at the touch of a switch.

They are, clearly, troubling reading for him.

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Explosions tear the tunnel ahead of the speeding Judy. It's rider snatches a glance back at her pursuers, balls of glowing plasma illuminated in her dark visor. They streak past her, erupting into billowing fireballs, sending debris pattering across the windshield and headlight. The rider swerves around the newly formed craters, two-wheel drive systems hauling the motorcycle around - keeping it stable.

Cybernetic suspension controls assist the rider, automatically adapting the suspension systems to the upcoming road conditions.

The machine accelerates ahead of it's pursuers with an electric whine, overhead lights strobing past.

Following behind - a pair of speeding drones, spitting plasma, and two motorcyclists in black leathers, pushing their buzzing, chainsaw-sounding machines to their limits. One looses control as she tries to navigate a crater, laying the bike down in a shower of brilliant titanium sparks. It burst into flame moments later. The second black rider speeds around her, gunning her engine. Flames spit from open exhaust pipes, rotary engine pushing the lightweight machine forward.

The fleeing woman glances back at her, the gap increasing. Old dinosaur technology just can't keep up.

Alarm lights flicker in the corridor in time to a pulsing siren.

Fire! Warns a series over overhead signs, printing the word out in dangerous red light. Emergency doors begin to close.

The Judy's rider accelerates hard.

The machine's Main Energy System display switches modes as the turbine engine kicks in with a screaming howl. Blue flame spits from both exhausts as the monster motorcycle surges forward. On her monitor, the rider can see energy flowing from both main batteries, and the single turbine, a combined 750kW of raw power accelerating her through a speed of 500kph.

The motorcycle ducks and weaves through the closing doors at full speed, making it through the final set with inches to spare.

Its rider takes one breath to glance back at her pursuers.

Both drones shatter across the closing door into a smattering of carbon-fibre. They seem to have been suspiciously empty of anything functional The final black rider jams her breaks on, leaving trails of smoke from a pair of locked rubber tyres. The door closes, hiding the Judy's rider's view of what happens next. Something thumps hard into the door with a sound like a giant sledgehammer, following by a rush of gasoline flame through the seals that's smothered in moments by an automated spray of foam.

The tunnel's character has changed to something more akin to a city road-tunnel, cool blue lights giving way to a harsh sodium orange. Ahead, light floods down from the world above.

The fleeing rider emerges into a bustling night-time city, streaks of neon flashing across the well-polished surface of the motorcycle.

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The Director in his office is visibly displeased, a dark look in his eyes.

On his big screen display is a map of a city, roughly oval in shape. Megatokyo City. The centre of the city is given over to parkland, while the outskirts are densely built up. An airbase is visible in the west.

Displayed Districts are: Skyknight, Yumeko, ShadowKnight, Fabian, Hedge, Raven, Skysab, Skuse, Sonoda, Woodhead and Kelk

The escaping rider is tracked fleeing through 'Yumeko' by a pulsing red indicator.

The monitor operator glances at her Director - green eyes behind round glasses asking for any ideas. She seems worried.

He smirks beneath his steepled hands.

On his own personal display is offering him the option to dispatch something called a CYBERDROID

A single keypress selects the option.

DEFIN TARGET?

Another flurry of key-presses

UPOLOADING TARGET....

It's a photograph of the escaping rider - her helmet under arm. It reveals her dusky skin, and chocolate coloured hair. She sits astride the same red and white motorcycle that she's using to make her escape.

DESPATCHING CYBERDROID

The Director allows himself another, savage smirk. It's ironic, in a way.

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The lab is gloomy, the only light coming from dozens of faintly flickering LED's. Machinery lurks in the shadows, thrumming with power. The sound of computer fans and chattering harddrives fills the room and more and more lights turn on.

On a bench, surrounded by a nightmare array of machinery, is the form of a woman. She is encased in pearlescent white armour, given deep blue accents. Data cables penetrate her armour at dozens of points, with open panels on her breast and hips revealing her to be a high-fraction cyborg. Data streams into her body through flickering network connections. Fluids are pumped from syringes. Still, she is unmistakeably female - her armour almost seeming to have been built to accentuate her curves, an effect aided by deep coats of polish and liquid light reflections passing over her breasts.

Her face however is hidden behind a featureless blue visor. Whining servos close both panels on her chest, locking them into place as her metallic fingers start to twitch with life.

She sits up, rising from a cloud of steam as sensor cables retract from her body. Alarms sound in the room. Dry-ice smoke rolls across the floor as she steps off the docking bench, the last few cables snapping and springing away from her body. Metal heels tick-tak on the concrete floor.

Standing upright on solid high heels, wings spread wide from her back, answering her mental command. She pauses a moment at the door, silhouetted by a high-powered light, as if she's contemplating her role. The flare of her hips is clear in the silhouetting light, more liquid reflections flowing across the curve of her buttocks. She might once have been a beautiful woman. Now, she is barely human - her humanity only betrayed by the last vestiges of her figure - almost as if her designers took pity on her.

The door opens with a gaseous hiss and she steps outside onto a building roof.

The Cyborg shrieks into the sky to chase her victim, riding jets of exhaust from her ankles and back. A loop and roll adjusts her heading towards the city.

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The Rider is making her way through the city, passing a brownstone house and old-style diner. She seems to be relaxed. The data drive still nestles between her breasts. She double checks with her gloved hand to be sure. All is well. Breath a sigh of relief. She pops her visor, revealing herself to be the dusk-skinned woman from the photograph. As far as she's concerned, she's escaped with the data.

The job is over.

Now she just has to hide in the city traffic and she's home free. The Judy is at home cruising at city speeds, silently scything through traffic. At this late hour, most city streets are empty, only a few stray revellers stopping to glance at the passing motorcycle. It slips through the city nightlife and traffic, going for the most part, unnoticed by its residents. A Blue and yellow MFP police car burbles past, whooping siren threatening arrest to anyone who steps out of line.

Neon lights flash on the buildings above. People mill through busy streets and side alleys. A neon-sign for 'Ghost in the Shop' offers cybernetic on a while-u-wait basis. The implication is that the quality is poor. A newsanchor with golden-yellow hair and orange eyes reads the latest news story on a stack of muted CRT televisions. The onscreen display gives the short version:

Yebichu Mechatronics reveals latest in Artificially Intelligent Cyberdroids.
The accompanying image is of a woman, similar to the Cyborg - only her armour is painted a deep blue with red and silver accents.

The Rider takes a right turn, then another right, passing a brownstone apartment block and an old-style diner before turning right once more. In the background, a girl on the street is waving at the garish machine. The rider takes another right turn, passing a green beetle parked on the corner.

A Blue and white Zaporozhets car put-puts past, traveling in the other direction. She glances back as it travels by, taking one last look to make certain she's not being followed.

The Cyborg lands hard on the street scant metres ahead of her, standing firm with her legs apart.

The Rider slams her brakes on, regenerative brakes on her Judy dumping kilowatts back into the machine's batteries with a howl. It stops solidly, bring the Rider face to face with the Cyborg. Her eyes stare, not afraid, but pained somehow.

The Cyborg stands in her way, refusing to move. It almost seems like she's having second thoughts.

The Rider pushes a button on her machine labelled 'Switch'. Servos whine and pistons hiss as the Judy begins to reconfigure itself. The Cockpit and forward fairing split open, moving forward to enclose her in a pressured cockpit. Both panniers fold down to form a pair of heavy-duty legs, as the front wheel splits open, before sweeping back over the shoulders of the forming motoroid to form a pair of lifting fans. It's arms unfurl from beneath the cockpit, polished metal figures clasping at the air.

The Motoroid stands firm in the street, a dozen metres from the Cyborg

In the cockpit, the Rider has an animated view of the city around her - painted in brilliant, lurid colours. Wireframe displays highlight the street and buildings around her, feeding. Tactical systems offer suggestions, locking the Motoroid's defensive ECCM onto the Cyborg, analysing her capability.

Rather than fight the Cyborg, The Rider attempts to flee. Lift fans scream, punching the heavy Judy towards the night sky.

With a turbine shriek, the Cyborg follows it.

In the cockpit, the Rider can see her highlighted on a multidimensional scanner.

The Cyborg flips herself into a full-blown lighting-kick.

In the cockpit of the Judy, the Rider pulls hard on her controls. The Judy swerves out of the way at the last second. The Cyborg sweeps back. The Rider reaches out to swat her with an arm. The Cyborg deflects off it, tumbling in the air before righting herself, sweeping in for an attack from behind. A Radar display in her cockpit keeps the Rider informed....

The Rider waits until the last possible moment before turning to face. Already, she is reaching out with her machine's heavy arms.

She grapples the Cyborg with the Judy's arms, grabbing solid hold of her armoured body. The Cyborg squirms and struggles, using all of her strength against the Judy's electrohydraulic grip. Actuators hiss as they resist the Cyborg's effort, grabbing tighter and tighter until she can't even squirm. The Judy's own engines effortlessly balance out the Cyborgs lightweight thrusters, holding them both steady in mid-air.

Two thumbs crack the Cyborg's visor open.

Revealing the face of a screaming woman, glacier-blue eyes framed by wild, sweat-moistened red hair. She's screaming in rage as she struggled to free herself. The helmet falls away, allowing her vivid red hair to blow free in the night air.

The Rider swallows as she opens her own cockpit, removing the data drive from her cleavage. The Judy's own autopilot holds it steady inspite of the Cyborg's efforts, allowing her to reach out with a single data cable.

For one brief instant, the Cyborg's blue eyes meet her own. A spark of sorrow flashes across her face, and she regrets what she's about to do. She steels herself with a deep breath, reaching out towards the wildly struggling Cyborg with a data cable.

It finds a home in a socket behind her ear. The drive comes alive, spinning up with a gentle humm.

The Cyborg's eyes bulge wide as it starts to penetrate her mind.

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A flash.

Two women, watching the sunset. Both of them dressed in motorcycle leathers. One is the Rider. Another, has the same red hair and blue eyes as the Cyborg - but she's human.

Flash.

They embrace into a passionate kiss. Lips lock.

Flash.

A bar. The redhead is singing. She wears a miniskirt and red halter-top

Flash.

The brunette shows her the Judy.

Flash

A news report about Yebichu Mechatronics' cyberdroid.

Flash

An online rumour post about missing homeless in Megatokyo

Flash


A form of mutual resolution. A plan to invade a building is visible on the monitor behind them

Flash.

Bare, sweat-sheened - skin from behind, fingers brushing across shoulders.

Flash.

Sneaking through the corporate offices together. Accessing a terminal containing CYBERDROID PLANS.

Flash.

A Black car chasing. Gunfire. A motorcycle sliding down the road, trailing titanium sparks. Blood on the tarmac. Clasping fingers in a torn glove.

Flash.

The redhead laying naked on the same bench the Cyborg awoke on, surrounded by shadowy figures in the gloom.

Flash.

The redhead screaming, cables penetrating her body. NEUROPHAGE INJECTION INITIATED flashes on a monitor behind her.

Flash.

The Cyborg's armoured fingers, clenching and releasing.

Flash.

REPORGRAMMING...

Flash

Cables run from the redhead's hears. A latex-gloved finger parts a lock of hair to reveal they've been replaced by plastic sheaths. Blue eyes stare at the ceiling through fingers of red hair, before the impassive metal visor closes down over them. The Redhead has become the Cyborg.

Flash.

Back to both of them, hanging in the air. Tears well up in the Cyborg's eyes as she remembers who she really his. He mouth hangs open as she sees what's become of her body. It's clear she's fighting to keep from sobbing.

The Rider smiles at her, reassuring her that it's okay. She's free. She opens her mouth.

What she'd planned to say is interrupted by the peal of an alarm. MISSILE LOCK flashes up on the monitors around her. Automated defensive systems engage, spraying flares and countermeasures. Automated ECCM systems divert missiles away from the Judy, leaving them to shatter in mid-air like dull fireworks. The Rider turns to check, seeing the incoming threat now highlighted clearly on her monitors.

Both of them trade savage grins. Time to fight together once more. The Rider closes the cockpit on the Judy, spinning it around in mid-air to meet the new threat. A cluster of drones, chasing after them above the city.

The Judy itself seems to exchange a glance with the Cyborg, before they both launch after the drones. Both of them together make short work of their attackers, smashing a pair each, before streaking off into the night-sky and freedom.

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Behind the Rider and the Cyborg, the city still glows. The walk on solid ground, the Cyborg's metal feet tak-takking on concrete, emphasising how silently the Judy runs - even in motoroid mode. They stop when they reach the wall at the edge of the city.

In front of them, is an airlock.

The Cyborg is able to open it using her inherent abilities, allowing them outside.

They step outside onto grey dust-smothered wasteland, the Cyborg and Judy walking up a small hill, leading to a monochrome vista of magnificent desolation.

Megatokyo is, in fact, a domed city on the Moon, a glittering jewel set into a deep crater.

They both stand watch the Earthrise together, as the final titles roll.

Mz-23, Judy. Liberating.
Filmed on Frigga 77 and in Kandor City.

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And yes, a lot of the typos are intentional. Some might not be. But the others are in the 'final product' And part of the flavour.

EDIT: Added the introduction segment. And ending track
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--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?