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Unfinished Story -Lord Omega Superball and Australis cameos.

Posted by: Rev Dark - 12-04-2006, 11:00 PM - Forum: The Legendary - Replies (3)

I dont think I will get around to finishing this one so here is the opening. It was based on an offhanded remark and Lord Omega and the decalf incident some months back.

It was so logical, so rational, and so simple, that it could have only come from a machine. Which was all good, because the plan had been born in the digital synapses of Lord Omega himself. Was it a plan for world domination. No. A destruction reigned down on the flesh-sacks that they would forever remember, at least until the last degenerate one of them died, gripped in a choking metal fist? No. A mild interruption to Wednesday night traffic, followed by a bitter editorial in the Thursday Paragon Times. No.
Lord Omega had simply put an end to coffee shipments into Paragon City. His meticulous research had shown that the removal of coffee from Paragon would cause a 20% drop in work efficiency, a 1.3% reduction in the economy, and a 16% increase in inter-personal conflict. All it took was a handful of drones in the shipping areas of Independence Port and Talos. Simple, efficient and effective.
The results had not been all he had expected, as his master plan had ignored the presence of decaffeinated coffee, which by its very nature, did not meet his very rational definition of the beverage. There had been a drop in efficiency and economy, but they had not been as pronounced as he had planned. There had been another problem.
Someone had taken it personally.

* * *

Incoming! Fire in the hole! Superball dove through the doorway, rolled across the floor and slid in behind Australis, crouching low and hiding behind the antipodean hero's legs. Were all going to die! Horribly!
Superball, for the last time, I am not going to kill any of you. Bella appeared at the doorway, her red eyes glowing. However, should I choose to retract this uncharacteristic mercy, I assure you that you shall be the first to know; followed shortly thereafter by the smoke detectors, fire suppression system and medical transporters.
Still no coffee? Australis shuffled slightly, trying shake Superball from his leg.
None. Bella collapsed into a chair and rubbed at her temples. And no I would not like a cup of tea or decaf, but thank you for the unspoken, and all too common of late offer.
Bonjour mes braves. Jackie Frost sauntered in, a stoneware mug held in one hand. She raised it to her full, red lips and took a sip, obviously relishing it intensely.
No. Bella cradled her head on her arms and tried to sink further into the table. Not even for that.
I shall ask again tomorrow. Jackie settled down on the corner, leaning back and arching her spine to better display her tremendous assets. She languidly placed the mug within Bellas reach. The heat appears to have left it. Bella, ma cher, if you could please.
Bella reached out a hand and dragged to mug across the table. She cupped it reverently between her palms; leaning forward to inhale deeply over the liquid. A thin trickle of stream rose from the mug. Bellas red eyes met Jackies cool blue ones. With an act of supreme willpower, Bella pushed the mug back to Jackie. Australis sighed deeply and extracted a five dollar bill from his pants pocket and dropped it to Superball. Bella arched a single eyebrow at the pair; causing Superball to cower further and Australis to pale ever so slightly under his heavy tan. They eyebrow ratcheted another few degrees as Jackie dipped two fingers into her massive cleavage and extracted two fives, handing one to each of the men.
Am I to understand. Bellas soft, Spanish flavored accent became as hard and unyielding as iron. That the three of you have been betting on whether or not I will let myself be seduced for a single cup of coffee?
Oui. Jackie confirmed taking a sip. Mon dieu! Tres chaud. Though you should be aware that it is not merely a cup of coffee. It is Jamaican Blue Mountain beans; roasted dark in the French fashion and brewed in the proper continental tradition.
Australis considered the tableau in front of him. His relaxed demeanor betrayed slightly be a stiffness in his spine. This was the moment of truth; his Kheldhian instincts were screaming at him to trigger the transformation to his larger and somewhat more fire resilient dwarf form. He fought back the impulse; he had a good read on Bellas body language; her temper was under control and she was unlikely to lose it and explode at the revelation.
Superball. Jackie. Australis. Bella leaned back in her chair. I am serving notice that my uncharacteristic mercy is hereby revoked.
Before the comment had left Bellas lips, Jackie leapt through the door of the kitchen, sealing the doorway behind her with a thick wall of ice. Australis; fully transformed into dwarf form, plowed through it a moment later, trailed by Superball who was making meep-meep noises.
Bella sighed and let her head drop back down to the table. It would only get worse from here. It was already worse, Jackie had taken the cup of coffee with her.

Halloween Costume Contacts

Posted by: Bob Schroeck - 12-04-2006, 09:50 PM - Forum: The Legendary - Replies (11)

Okay, I promised Scott I'd ask about this -- we were discussing the Halloween costume bits/extra slot thingy yesterday, and he was absolutely certain that he'd heard a promise that the (or a) contact for completing the process would remain somewhere around the city after the Halloween content was deactivated. Can anyone confirm or deny?
Thanks.
-- Bob
---------
...The President is on the line
As ninety-nine crab rangoons go by...

Build Suggestion for Pyre Ant?

Posted by: jpub - 12-04-2006, 08:21 AM - Forum: The Legendary - Replies (7)

I'm trying to figure out something to use for my concept villian Pyre Ant, which, as a fire themed character leaves me with Corruptor, Dominator, and Brute.
Brute:
Fire/Fire was my initial concept, but honestly, I have massive trouble with the pacing of Brutes. I'd rather not play another.
Dominator:
Again, Fire/Fire. Pacing issues again. Not as bad, but it's there.
Corruptor:
I really like Corruptors, for the same reason I dig Offenders. I like the debuf & blast angle, making this my ideal choice. One would think a Fire/Thermal would be what's called for, but I'm an *awful* healer. Actually, I'm an awful bubbler too, so the shields could be problematic. I'd like an alternate Debuff set that would make sense.
So, I guess that's what I'm asking - what debuff set could you rationalize for a Fire themed Corruptor other than Thermal?
--
Christopher Angel, aka JPublic
The Works of Christopher Angel
"Camaraderie, adventure, and steel on steel. The stuff of legend! Right, Boo?"

From the Log of Prina'Surt'Valtir, aka Scorch Lass (ficlet)

Posted by: Chibi Konatsu - 12-04-2006, 07:24 AM - Forum: The Legendary - Replies (3)

Agent's Log.
Date: 514th Turning Period of the 48th Cycle, 4th day of the 18th Week.
Local Date: 94th Turning Period of the 37th Cycle, 1st day of the 7th Week (estimate).
In what was a malfunction of an otherwise routine matter transit, I seem to have been hurtled back in time to an unknown location. I am attempting to make use of the (crude) local information sources to piece together where and when this is.
My father once told me that I would regret not allocating more educational bandwidth to astronomy. I wonder how he'd respond to knowing my current predicament? He might laugh. That would be like him.
In the meantime, I am putting my talents to work alongside a local, seemingly unofficial source of law enforcement. It seems that there is an unspoken barrier between Baseline and Enhanced legal activity. Perhaps a deliberate source of bureaucratic redundancy? I should ask. I should be asking about more things, I think. For starters, where I'm going to put this log so that it can be found later. I don't trust the local computer networks: just interfacing it with my tooth computer seemed to overwhelm their system. And infuriated the librarian, although I did apologize in the traditional manner.
(Personal note: based on observation, the species do not conform to a Type 7 etiquette system. Continue to categorize. Discover more about physiology, activity cycle, diet and presence/absence of pl'krt.)
I will continue this log where possible.
Prina'Surt'Valtir.

Machine Spirit 4

Posted by: Rieverre - 12-04-2006, 05:16 AM - Forum: Other People's Fanfiction - Replies (2)

'Everybody's waiting for something to happen,
Everybody's waiting for something to see,
Lunatics waiting for bigger disasters,
Everyone's waiting for news on TV,'
- 'Face in the Sand', Iron Maiden

Take two people, have them just ... fit ... without much of an initial reason, but getting to trust one-another more and more as time went on. Similar in some respects, different in just enough to make things interesting. Stir liberally, and let stew for a month or so.
Add in an appropriate number of secrets on either side. They don't exactly go unmentioned, no, but with both the people in question having severe trust issues said secrets are worked around.
Then have both of them almost kill one-another in a showdown that was such a comedy of errors, or simply badly matched coincidences, that it could have been written by the old Greeks - everything had been going in a suitably tragic manner, in any case.
And then, after all that was said and done and mulled over, have them meet and at least _try_ to deal with things like reasonable beings - a course of events which, had the acquaintances of one of the participants found out about it, they would likely not have believed her capable of cooling down enough to make that last decision.
What you get - other than the queen of run-on explanations - is the mother of all awkward silences.
At least there was beer, thought Priss distractedly, even if it did taste like watered down piss.
She stiffened momentarily, as a slight weight settled on her right shoulder, opting to ignore it for the moment.
Behind her back, a dozen or two meters, two bikes sat on a smallish parking lot, a lonely lantern lighting the space and providing at least some illumination other than moonlight to the area. In front of her, waves rolled and frothed, barely perceptible in the faint lighting.
"Do you ... hate me?"
The problem with long, awkward silences, Priss groused to herself, was that they were often broken by things that made the situation even more-so.
In this case, it was because, though she hated to admit it ...
"I don't know, Sylvie," she finally managed. "I don't even know what to _think_ right now."
If there was anything about herself that she knew, and knew well, it was anger. She'd always been passionate, but somewhere back in the grit, gunpowder and gasoline, and the wake of blood spilled on paved highways, it had been anger and determination which let her drag herself out of a spiral of depression and self-doubt.
GENOM had been the focus of most of that anger, and over time it had easily spilled over into other related avenues.
The first chink in the cast-iron world-view she'd forged for herself hadn't occurred so very long ago, either. That boomers didn't necessarily equal hate.
It only took the death of, for all intents and purposes, a little girl, to drive that point home.
Now?
Priss didn't have many friends. She was just that kind of person. She had acquaintances, and some of them were friendly, but people she considered friends were few and far in-between ... even with the Knight Sabers, the only one she thought of as such was Sylia.
Linna and Nene were Good People, she knew and realized that, but still couldn't help but keep her distance most of the time. She trusted them with her back, yes, but ... it had been a long time since she'd trusted someone with her emotions.
Sylia was one of those rare people who'd managed to get behind that last line of defense, though exactly how that had come about even Priss wasn't entirely sure of.
Sylvie, though she'd only known her for what Priss realized was a very brief, comparatively speaking, period of time, had somehow achieved that as well.
"As far back as I can remember, I've wanted to be free," the amber eyed woman said into the night. "I never thought it would be this ..."
"What?" the singer turned her head slightly, to where Sylvie's was leaning against her shoulder.
"Priss, you were the first person who cared about me that didn't have a serial number. And I ... don't know if any of the others are still alive," the cyberoid confessed. "There were five of us when we ran, three who'd stayed behind, volunteering to be the distraction. Even with that, only Anri and myself made it out of Genaros, and I don't even know if Anri's," she choked back what sounded like a sob.
Well, what did you say to that.
Priss decided not to try and say anything to it, in any case. Her reaction would have had anyone who knew her rub their eyes in disbelief, though, as she - somewhat jerkily, and with not a small amount of hesitation - brought her arm up behind Sylvie and hugged her.
--
Demonbane Ltd.
presents
Machine Spirit
Arc One->Largo
Four->Who wants to live forever?
the follow up of a short in the BGC world
by Griever
Disclaimer: I make no claim to own the characters and settings used.
--
"I've got good news," he heard, the partially synthesized voice taking him away from some ruminations.
He'd always been a bit of a recluse, yes, but he'd also had many timesinks to turn to ... which, sadly, didn't really work all that well anymore. For example, he'd managed to discover that the most recently integrated sections of the J-1 battle computer had a tendency to activate whenever something they could relate to was being considered ... it made trying to play any sort of game lose its appeal, even with restricting his mind's 'processing speed' to just around human baseline.
So Kiba's interruption, for whatever reason, was a welcome one.
"Unfortunately, I've also got bad news, and worse news."
Alright, so maybe not that welcome.
He imagined it was a bit of an amusing sight, a battlemover hanging its head despondently, but he really didn't feel much like laughing at the moment.
"Bad news first, then," he sighed.
"You've been drawing attention, and not of the good kind either," Kiba said, plopping down atop an empty ammo crate. She had a lot of those around, sometimes in lieu of furniture. Her coffee table had once held a couple hundred 40mm HE shells, for instance. "My people tell me the JSDF's brought in one of their contractors, since the USSD's political clout took a nosedive ever since the Aqua-City incident, and more-so now that they'd been unable to retrieve a certain rogue superweapon."
"It's so nice to be wanted," the battlemover grumbled. "Not. Okay, what's the worse news?"
"Actually, that ties in with the former. I'm going to have to evict you. The contractor they've brought in is pretty damn good at what she does, _and_ she knows the city well enough to realize exactly where she ought to dig."
No, it wasn't entirely unexpected ... it was still pretty damn bad, though.
"Well, shit," Griever's own synthesizer wasn't very sophisticated, but it managed to convey the sentiment accurately enough. "Right. I'm just about ready for the good news now, thankyouverymuch."
"There's some old safehouses I don't have a use for anymore that you could rotate through," said the arms dealer and occasional middle-woman, "not much, but you two've been an investment with good returns, so there you go."
"For what it's worth, thanks. I don't suppose you could throw in a couple of cases worth of reloads for me?"
"What do you take me for, charity?" she asked with a wry chuckle. "Wasn't all of the good news, though. This last bit isn't big, but you'll want to know it."
"Okay, you've got my ear. And a few independent recording tracks."
"No need," she set a palm sized, flat and flat black object on the crate beside her. "It took a while, but I've got you your commission's worth here. Physical description fits to a tee, and the timeline works out as well. Here's all a few favors got me on Millie Jackson."
***
He grunted, part annoyance, part effort ... Mackie Stingray was, despite what a fair number of people in his acquaintance assumed, in more than decent shape. Unfortunately, he was also both still a teenager, and not exactly in possession of the sort of physical frame that lent itself to feats of great strength.
Dragging his nigh-insensate older sister through the sub-basement, into an elevator, then putting her to bed took a bit more effort than he was used to, to tell the truth.
And wasn't _he_ supposed to be the younger, immature sibling?
Of course, working yourself into the ground with the sort of obsessiveness some people approached drinking a bar dry wasn't the same as trying to get nude photos of people (or 'person' at least) known for their quickness in resorting to violent responses, but he'd firmly resolved to forget about that little tidbit next time Sylia wanted to give him a chewing-out.
The younger Stingray's thoughts quickly, surprisingly so in fact, went back to the matter at hand as he got onto the elevator and headed for the sub-basement again.
After all, he thought with a sigh, he knew his sister well enough to realize that she wouldn't let up until she was done with this. She hadn't been this bad about upgrading their equipment since an inadequacy in the early model of Linna's suit had nearly gotten the dancer killed during a sortie, and the young man could sympathize.
She'd always taken her responsibilities seriously. Sometimes too seriously at that.
Well, at least she'd learned how to delegate over the years ... or rather, Doc Raven had damn near beaten that into her hear once upon a fall in '29.
The workshop door hissed open, and Mackie went in, resigning himself to another mostly sleepless night checking Sylia's work over as best he could.
He supposed that it could be genetic. Or maybe it was just enlightened self-interest.
After all, the part of his mind that always kept some levity about it remarked, if someone on the team got injured he'd have one less knock-out to perv on.
"One can't be seen as too responsible, after all. Bad for the image."
The door *swooshed* shut behind him.
***
Sometimes, there's really no substitute for some good and honest grunt work.
At least that was what she told herself. It could be that the stress was finally getting to her.
Not that she'd ever had what would be commonly considered a calm sort personality.
Oh, methodical and meticulous when she had to be, yes, but sometimes ...
The last Rent-A-Thug went slamming through a wood-substitute tabletop, and following through all the way down and into the floor with a bone-jarring *thud*.
"You know, Ryo, I never really thought it was possible for you to sink any lower," she commented to the only other still conscious person present. "But you've managed to surprise me. Congratulations."
She smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
In fact, it made the slick haired man, who could pass for a sarariman if encountered on the street, and who was currently sitting behind a cheap desk in a way that suggested he wanted to try and make a break for it, but knew that said course of action wasn't a good idea, cringe. And want to hide. Preferably in a very deep hole.
"But, see - I've got a little something to discuss with you, so I'd be willing to let bygones be bygones and treat this as an unfortunate ... accident. No, don't talk quite yet, I'm not done."
She came around the desk, stepped behind his chair, and put her hands on his shoulders. Then she squeezed. Hard.
The yakuza underboss whimpered.
"See? You haven't forgotten basic hospitality since I paid you a visit last time, have you? It's only been, what, a few years? You talk when I say you talk, got that?"
Silence.
"Good. Now, I've been hearing something about you having a bit to do with an incident that came about lately. Something about a buyout of a meat shredding plant ... oh, sorry. I meant warehouse. Supposedly cheap, too, after all the yellow tape went down. Kinda makes all those nasty suspicious types think that you could have had something to do with what went on there, doesn't it?"
Another squeeze.
Those hands felt like a pair of iron vices. That was new. Last time, only one had been quite that bad.
"But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt here if you maybe just, oh, share your ... educated guesses on the matter with me. After all, you're still so well informed about what goes on down here, right? That much hasn't changed since I was last visiting, has it? Give an old friend a helping hand."
Hashima Ryo hadn't gotten to where he was by being soft ... but he also hadn't gotten there by not knowing when to cut his losses. A very important thing to realize when dealing with this particular person.
Messing about with Jeena Malso was not even remotely in the realm of good ideas.
***
Priss blinked.
Well, she thought to herself, this was new.
She was used to giving one member of the band or another a bawling out every now and then, when their efforts were lackluster ... but it was the first time she could recall having that same thing pulled on her. Worse, she wasn't particularly inclined to turn around, yank the door of the Hot Legs, which was still deserted save for the practicing Replicants, open, and give back what she'd gotten, with accrued interest.
Instead, she settled on her bike, and frowned ...
Hell, she'd spent the morning sitting on the steps of her trailer, nursing a bottle of Jack, and strumming all melancholy and shit out of an old, woefully out of tune acoustic she'd had for as long as she could remember and hadn't bothered with tossing. This wasn't like her, damnit!
... or maybe it was. She couldn't really tell, today.
She didn't tend to get emotional, or rather, didn't get emotional in any way except getting well and righteously pissed off. Hadn't for a good few years now. Until last night, when she'd gone through what could have passed for a nervous breakdown in any other set of circumstances. But then, misery loved company. Loathe as she was to admit it, it had been a liberating, almost cathartic experience.
The engine rumbled to life, and seconds later she was flashing down the dingy roads and alleys with the deft assurance of someone who'd done it more times than they could count, in weather considerably worse than the present minor rainfall. The blurring road and press of wind helped her get a semblance of her usual attitude back, at least ...
She couldn't help but wonder how Sylvie was dealing.
***
He'd never had much of a problem adjusting to new accommodations back when he'd hadn't been technically immune to any physical discomfort, and it wasn't a problem at present either.
'Yeah, well, it wouldn't be too bad if it weren't for everything being so damn _small_!'
It was just his luck that the seemingly 'best' of the safehouses Kiba had pointed out when they'd said their goodbyes happened to be little more than a sub-basement underneath, ironically enough, the remains of a church.
It wasn't _the_ church, of course, since there wasn't enough of it left topside to constitute even a good try at 'ruins' ...
Things would have been a lot simpler if they could have just found the damn place, but ruined places of worship - while not exactly a dime-a-dozen in the Canyons and the general Fault area - weren't exactly marked on your usual maps, nor were they places that garnered much attention from even the shadier characters.
Unless you counted squatters, and even those tended to pick more comfortable places. Or at least ones that weren't as drafty.
In any case, it was just as well that he'd never really had any sort of phobia related to being in small, enclosed spaces either, because, however surprisingly apt the D.D. was at moving through urban environs, despite having been designed with battlefields in mind, it was still rather big.
It gave him a whole new level of appreciation for Sylvie, who'd managed to not only not get caught while driving the thing-that-was-now-his-body through the city when she'd still been 'out for blood', pun intended, but also hadn't caused a ruckus with any cases of hard to explain damages to the surroundings other than the occasional footprint or two. He'd been having trouble getting used to the new proportions of things for a while after their initial meeting, and he _was_ the machine, for all intents and purposes.
Not that they'd spent a lot of time there, since as soon as he and a slightly out of sorts Sylvie had even gotten set up, she'd insisted on following through on Kiba's parting gift.
Which, he noted, brought him back to the initial subject of this idle flight of fantasy.
The solar panels that all but filled the rooftop were almost, but not quite, a veritable forest of metal and reflective surfaces, but there was plenty of space underneath this umbrella of sorts for maintenance work to be done ... meaning he could just barely squeeze in without damaging anything. The position wasn't exactly the best in terms of offered view, perspective, or pretty much anything other than concealment and proximity to the apartment complex that one Millie Jackson, GENOM employee, was registered as a resident of.
Not that actually getting up there had been easy to do without drawing all kinds of the wrong sort of attention. Sylvie, though, had come back determined enough that there really wasn't any talking her out of doing at least an initial bit of recon.
After all, this was Anri they were here for. If nothing else had convinced her of the fact that what information he'd spoken to her about, regarding the possible course of events both current and upcoming, was genuine, the fact that he'd been right on about the covert identity Anri was using would have.
The rain that had been falling since sometime a few hours before dawn, but seemed to be slowing down now - likely, the skies should be clear come evening - had been a big help in getting up to the rooftop without getting spotted by bystanders or anyone else for that matter. Though the fact that they'd done so an hour before dawn was a factor, since not many of even the most zealous corporate drones, not to mention the other productive members of society, were up at the time.
Things would have been more difficult, had the place been in the vicinity of a college campus, but luckily no such problem needed to be worked around in this case. There was only so much even a coffee addled mind on too little sleep could dismiss as hallucination, and a Battlemover wasn't quite within that bracket.
"You've had a productive evening, then," he'd asked/stated on the way through the ruins of the Canyons - still one of the most secure routes they could take, even with the increased vigilance of police and military forces.
"Yes. No. Maybe," Sylvie had said, haltingly. "I'm still not sure if it wasn't a cascading error in my empathy program. We finally ended up pretty much where we started from ... undecided."
He'd inquired about details, and she'd informed him.
"It sounds perfectly normal to me," he'd replied, with not a little wryness. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She'd hesitated, had gone to nod, and stopped halfway, instead opening the privacy protocols that either side had place on the superweapon linkage.
The somewhat uncomfortably emotional exchange that followed didn't take as much as a second, but both sides had gotten a few insights out of it.
He could still recall Sylvie's unease when she'd found that this 'quest' of hers was one of the main things keeping his own mind in relative equilibrium. It was, he'd explained, in a way the logical extension of how he'd always approached some things, and if he focused his attention on something to the near exclusion of everything else and it kept him more or less sane, well, who was she to argue.
Although, and he didn't know whether she'd let it slip on purpose when the linkage was being limited again, he'd been mildly perplexed when she'd felt oddly flattered upon learning of the above.
The rest of their transit had been spent in silence, both literal, and metaphorical.
***
It took a while, but at the same time, less than it would have pretty much anybody else.
She still knew the city. The beat of it thrummed in her blood, in the electrical impulses twitching artificial muscle, in the way she walked.
She'd _missed_ it. For all the dreams, some of them her own, ground into the ground and crushed under the feet of indifferent masses, there was no other place quite like it.
And to Jeena, MegaTokyo was home.
An occasionally rat infested one, desperately needing renovation, but home nonetheless. And none of the rats were big enough to seriously bother her. They hadn't been then, they sure as hell didn't get any better over the years.
A part of her was faintly disappointed.
The rest wasn't considering that there and then, because it was busy being surprised, then suspicious.
The trails and the peculiar style of mediating the contract were both familiar. Enough that she really hadn't needed to be quite as rough on poor-stupid-Ryo ...
She snorted. As if.
The corridor started in a back alley, leading under the building that proclaimed to all the world the delights of soy and sinking down quite a bit further after some point. She'd caught at least five separate sensor plates at varying intervals, but wasn't really concerned. Unless she'd suddenly become persona-non-grata here, which wasn't likely, she wouldn't be more than warned off. Meaning that she'd simply need to find another way.
Apparently, that wasn't to be a problem. She reached the end of the corridor without incident, climbing into the small freight elevator that sat behind a suspiciously unlocked security hatch. Both it and the hatch looked like they were going to fall apart any minute, which wasn't something one could dispute without a more focused examination. The appearance of either was, naturally, a carefully maintained feint for anyone who'd gotten this far.
The ride down was as smooth and quiet as she remembered it being, obviously at odds with the way things looked.
When the lift finally did stop, in a chamber much like the one several levels above, she dismounted with little fuss. It was, she remarked to herself as she pushed open the door she knew led to one of the main storage areas of the place, time to meet an old friend.
"Huh, I wasn't expecting you ... not this soon, at any rate," the white-haired woman said, not looking up from the obstinate arrangement of power-cells the refused to properly align with the drive train receptable of the antiquated K-6 Personal Trooper. The entire space was filled with boxes, full of more in the way of weaponry than even she knew the details of, and quite a bit of miscellaneous kipple besides. "What's the matter? Can't buy a thrill?"
"If I wanted to, I'd be trolling the strip joints in Tinsel City. Been a long time, Kiba."
***
"But ... no, it can't be ..."
"I'm sorry to have to bring you this sort of news," his hand reached out to squeeze hers. A futile gesture of trying to comfort somebody who'd just had the world ripped out from under here.
Again.
"Couldn't we _try_? At least to talk to her, sir? I know I could get through, I just know it!"
Hope springs eternal in the human breast. Or one close enough to it to not matter very much, at least.
"If there is a chance. But I'm afraid we can't risk it," he sighed ruefully. "There simply is no window of opportunity to do so. Things will be coming to a head soon, you know. What we do, we do for the betterment of the world. Some things ..."
She shivered. Then, hesitantly, nodded. The concept wasn't one she was unfamiliar with, but not exactly something pleasant either.
No. Not pleasant at all.
"I'm sure she'd approve," the woman said, drawing herself up. "If it's against GENOM. It's their fault, after all. Their machine. First they took Nam, Lou, and Meg ... and now they're taking Sylvie away from me."
Arms came around her, pulling her close.
Mismatched eyes looked down on the aquamarine haired girl.
Over the top of Anri's head, Largo smiled.
In the distance, a brief flash illuminated the coastward city skyline, briefly filtering through what was left of the ruined church's stained glass windows.
***
Kenichi Hoshi had never wanted to play hero.
All he wanted was to be left more or less alone, to be able to pay his bills and buy Mari a few of this month's 'absolutely must have' things to keep her from verbally biting his head off, and maybe catch a few beers with his friends at the end of a long day.
There'd been a bit of a tight spot when GENOM bought out the company he'd been working for a month ago, but fortunately he wasn't one of those people who'd been let go at the end of the day.
It may not have been his dream job, but he had a sort of knack for working security that wasn't just there due to his being six foot even and around two hundred pounds of pure muscle. He was thorough, conscientious, and took what he did seriously ...
... but he'd never wanted to play hero. It got people killed.
And, like Iwagami had aptly demonstrated a moment ago, trying to take on three assailants in powered armor with small-arms wasn't just 'playing hero'. It was 'playing stupid hero'.
Kenichi stumbled up the stairs, limping. A spray of fire from one of the attackers hadn't quite caught up with him, but the chips that the impacting projectiles had torn from the concrete wall he'd ducked behind a few dozen paces behind and below had.
The five 55-C models they had on shift were long gone, the assailants having gone through them without even thee most remote bit of difficulty, which had prompted Kenichi's desire to be somewhere else in the first place ...
... thought things seemed to be quieting down now. Which either meant that the threat had been dealt with - not likely, all things and prior performance considered - or that ...
The loading doors below rumbled, high yield hydraulics making a characteristic sound that he could recognize in his sleep.
An inkling of hope flared within him as he shuffled over to one of the windows that overlooked the loading yard below.
A cargo hauler roared from the building, tearing through the yard and out the gates, and Kenichi breathed in relief as the glaring lights outside illuminated the three powered suits of the assailants.
The impromptu tourniquet he'd tied off just above the injured part of his leg would keep him from bleeding to death for the next while, and the frantic panic of having to run for his life was passing.
It was over. He nearly laughed in relief.
He was still alive!
Which was when the sound of servos working the loading doors closed was overshadowed by a deep, heavy rumble ... and the floor, as well as the bays below, two floors above, and nearly the whole breadth of that storage section of the warehouse complex was engulfed by and explosion.
It was enough to light up the sky for a moment, and the fires that raged until the following morning would cast an eerie radiance throughout it all.
***
Daley Wong threw the ADP Interceptor around a corner at the sort of speed that would have had him jittering away like someone on too much coffee and too little sleep only a few years ago.
Here and now, he did it with a practiced ease that spoke of many hours behind the wheel, and having had Leon McNichol for a partner. Hotheaded though the man was, few could fault his skills with anything on four or two wheels, and his ability to convey them to other people ...
Though, outside of Daley and a few others, most of the ADP officers who'd once upon a time made the choice of signing up for the unofficial McNichol school of urban combat driving ended up needing sedation after nearly every session.
The man himself didn't even seem to notice as concrete and glass and asphalt flashed past outside, though he did wince a bit at a particularly abrupt swerve. Medical technology may have advanced by leaps and bounds over the past decade or two, but even with all that Leon's ribs still twinged on occasion. A testament of the encounter with a Battlemover that was as much psychosomatic as it was physical, or so the doctors had said.
Oh well. No rest for the wicked.
That was particularly true in MegaTokyo, even during the city's gestation period.
The relative quiet, at least in regard to boomer incidents, of the past two weeks or so had been enough to put maybe not the entire department, but at least those who had some experience under their belt and knew how to use their heads, on edge.
And now things looked to be boiling over.
"Coming up on it," the redhead commented, cutting in front of a delivery van and causing the driver thereof to send up a string of horn-honks in retort, not that either of the ADP officers noticed. "How soon is backup due?"
"What!?" exclaimed Leon into the headset of his comm gear. "What do you mean, another incident? What's so big that ... never mind! If we're not getting air deployment, what have we got inbound?"
A pause, during which Daley downshifted, tapped the brakes, and guided the vehicle into a controlled skid ...
"Oh, that's just _great_, what're we supposed to do with HOLY SHIT!!!"
... before something flickered into his field of view, making him jerk the wheel further in on reflex, as well as almost get up from the driver's seat, even with the safety harness there, putting as much pressure on the brake pedal as he could.
It nearly put the car into a spin, throwing it off course and making the passenger side barely, just _barely_ miss the business suit clad woman who'd been in the process of dashing across the street.
With an unholy screech of rubber on asphalt that echoed in the concrete canyon, momentarily beyond even the wailing of the ADP Interceptor's siren, they came to a halt.
A detached part of Daley's mind noticed the smoldering wreck of a car, sitting in the distance, in the direction of where the disturbance had been reported initially.
The woman had frozen, momentary shock chiseled into her features and the expression intensified by the still flashing red and blue lights on top of the Interceptor's roof.
Then Leon, and a moment later Daley, noticed that she was no longer looking at the car, but past it, before her face shifted back into stark panic and ...
There was a flash of energy discharge, burning its way through the air, and something exploded above, before a large, familiar shape came crashing down into the ground, on the opposite side of the ADP car from the woman. No. It had tumbled out of the air, coming down trailing smoke and bits of armor, and smashed into the driver's side of the Interceptor before bouncing off with a screech and falling into a heap on the asphalt.
Daley blinked from where he'd been hauled half out of his seat by Leon, the other man's prompt and equally instinctive reaction having saved him from a serious concussion at least, seeing as the armored roof and part of the door of the Interceptor was now caved inward a fair amount.
He realized his ears were ringing. The explosion, whatever it had been, happened close enough that its concussion had rocked the then-still-intact Interceptor, and apparently thrown the sarariwoman to the ground.
The restrains of his safety harness released, even as his partner opened the passenger side door and leapt out, Earthshaker revolver at the ready and ...
... then Daley dove across the console, Leon's empty seat, and tumbled to the ground as driver's side of the Interceptor, as well as most of the roof, were blown off by a point-blank energy discharge.
Then the Earthshaker spoke, Leon up in a crouched firing stance and snapping off all three heavy .60 rounds over Daley's prone form, and into their assailant.
One skittered over armored skin, not penetrating at all due to the awkward deflection angle it had hit at. The second was better, but not by much, hitting low and penetrating - at this range, the Earthshaker's heavy anti-boomer rounds did good work to say the least - into the chest area, but apparently not causing any damage beyond the superficial. The target staggered, though, and the third shot came with a fraction of a second more of an interval, hitting the unprotected mouth cannon of the 55-C and ripping it to pieces, as well as blowing off the majority of the boomer's head on its way out.
***
With a thought, commands flashed over relays and the RPG launcher returned to idle mode.
The whole thing had seemed so simple when they'd come up with it. After all, they had a location now. He'd spent his time in overwatch position, still perched amidst the solar panels and usual rooftop kipple, while Sylvie had opted for a more immediate location.
The complex had a basement parking garage, and Millie Jackson was registered as having pulled a company car. Kiba's information was nothing if not complete, even going as far as giving that particular sedan's serial numbers, plates, and so on ...
Which they were on the lookout for. Not that the 'plan' went past 'get to Anri, and get her _out_, then get the hell out of dodge' ...
What neither of them had counted on was the duo of 55-C model combat boomers that suddenly blipped onto the scene, dropping down from the complex's roof, and ... promptly proceeding to ignore a momentarily frozen Sylvie, who'd stepped out from beneath a shadowed overhang as the sedan was in the process of pulling up to the garage doors, in favor of charging down the car.
The sedan went into reverse almost immediately, spinning around and tearing back down the way it had come, and for a moment things seemed to be _over_ just like that. The beams from boomer mouth cannons flashed.
And _missed_, tearing into buildings, carving furrows just off the car's sides ... the J-1's calculations put that so far into 'unlikely' it wasn't even funny, even as one scored a hit that didn't do much other than disabling the car.
The only plausible explanation that came to mind immediately was that they were trying for a capture, and he'd shifted his body up and into bipedal configuration, toggled the weapons online, and shifted out from underneath cover.
By the time he'd brought himself into a better firing position, though, the car was burning, its occupant - and physical readings matched what he'd expected from Anri's data - running, and the 55-Cs swooping down.
Then things had happened all at once, with an ADP car screaming its way around a corner and narrowly avoiding turning Anri into roadkill, and his own fire plans being executed with a momentary squeal of ECM and a brief painting of either boomer with laser designators.
Open season had been declared.
At five-hundred meters, the Hight Explosive rounds from his Shipunov were impacting their targets in just around half a second after leaving the barrel, with a burst of ten projectiles arriving in the span of two seconds. The anti-materiel rounds tore and shredded armor, scattering bits of one 55-C some thirty meters above street level.
The warning proved enough for it's partner to calculate trajectory and ballistic properties of the rounds, then alter its course to slip under the projected line of fire, into the shadow of the chaff that had, a moment ago, been its companion.
Which was where the concussion grenades, launched to intersect the most efficient projected evasion trajectory a few moments before the cannon had fired, caught it. It hadn't been a clean hit, though, but even at the edge of the proximity triggers' activation range the blast had been enough to throw the boomer around something fierce.
Enough to have its gyro to be knocked out of whack, literally knocking the cyberoid out of the air and into the unfortunate ADP vehicle that had slewed to a halt between Anri and the boomers.
Which was when his sensors registered unpleasantness bound to arrive soon, and - much as he'd hated to do it - he'd made a choice.
"Sylvie, we're getting out of here," he'd informed, bouncing the commo-laser from a store display and onto his partner's retina. He could see her shake her head, violently, halted in mid-step of heading towards the 55-C, the ADP car, and Anri.
Well, the ADP car and Anri, since the boomer had just lost its head ...
... considering what he'd lost it to, and optical magnification, it was damn clear who he'd lost it too as well.
"We've got at least two ADP Armored Transports inbound, possibly more on the way. We can't ..."
The remains of the ADP car were momentarily tossed up into the air, officers Wong and McNichol going for cover the moment it happened, and Anri dashing into an alley and out of sight as the crab-like, armored carapace of a Bu-12B strode onto the scene from ... _somewhere_.
This _reeked_ of an ambush, and as much as he wanted to just get Anri out, their best bet at it was gone. Too contrived, with too much of a chance of not getting out of what looked to be turning into yet another example of MegaTokyo urban warfare.
"... we're moving! The 12 hasn't made me yet only because it's busy," the ADP transports had stopped in the distance, and four K-11 suits were tearing down the street, guns blazing. The Bu-12 responded by blowing one away with its 46mm railgun and an anti-tank round before slipping back under cover itself. "And we've missed our chance. I'm sorry, damnit, but we've got to get while the getting's good!"
Sylvie stiffened, angrily looking down towards the battle and Anri's point of departure, before swearing violently - at least that was what it looked like from up there - and tearing off in the direction of their designated meeting point.
The Battlemover faded back, having shifted into quad-mode as soon as the Bu-12's presence had become apparent, and tried to be as discreet as possible in making its own way there.
The sounds of battle didn't stop until after they were well away.
***
"There goes trying to convince her to get some more rest," the young man grumbled quietly. "Again."
"What was that, Mackie?"
Apprently, not quietly enough.
"Nothing, sis. Newspaper hardcopy?"
He set the various early editions on the coffee table. Sylia had subscriptions to most, if not all, news publications in the city, and insisted on paying the extra for hardcopies in addition to getting the usual electronic format of once or twice-a-day updates. It was a bit of eccentricity he'd never quite managed to figure out, preferring to just take in the highlights of the digital versions, or having them compiled for him by the custom digest software she'd written in her spare time, a few years ago.
Of course, that bit of code had originally been meant for, and still served them well in, filtering the various popular media for even the most remotely relevant bits of information ... still, what sort of aspiring engineer would he be if he didn't find new and inventive uses for things meant to do something else.
The fact that it went through H image boards just as quickly and efficiently was just an extremely nifty bonus, in his opinion, not that he'd ever be telling Sylia about that.
In any case, the news for the day was exceedingly monothematic, and not in a good way. Getting blamed for something you didn't do was bad, in and of itself, but things like murder, arson, etc. were a whole different scale of 'bad'.
When accompanied by video evidence, in brutal technicolor, it was doubly as disquieting.
And as far as he knew, Sylia had been following up on it, as well as delegating investigative duties, ever since her alarm had gone off at four in the AM.
It figured she had the damn thing wired to go off when one of her or Nene's self perpetuating SearchBots flagged something of significant interest.
Now if only the damn thing hadn't been loud enough to get _him_ up as well.
Eh. Things looked to be quieting down, though. Or, heading more in the direction of quiet intensity, which gave him ... four more hours until Doc Raven said he wanted to get on with the garage's seasonal general overhaul. With luck, he could squeeze in a couple or three hours of sleep more ...
The doorbell chimed in, irritatingly cheerful.
... or maybe not.
'That's it,' he thought as he moved to check the vid-assembly for the flat's private elevator. 'After I'm done with the Doc, I'm getting me some earplugs.'
***
Linna and Nene had been somber, even subdued when they'd parted at the Lady633 building that afternoon, in the wake of discussing this latest, and perhaps most offensive to them as a whole, of the city's upsets.
Priss, on the other hand, had been just plain angry.
The melancholy mood she'd been in over the past few days had burned away like the morning mist in the face of the searing sun as soon as she'd caught the early news.
When the first thing you see in the morning is somebody pretending to be you splattering people across the walls, you wake up real quick.
The feeling had persisted in its intensity throughout the course of the day, going as far as to nearly make her beat her drummer like he did one of his instruments during a performance for commenting that it was good she'd gotten over whatever it was that had her lagging behind lately.
Instead she'd stormed out without another word, gotten onto her bike, and spent the rest of the day tearing across Timex, Tinsel, and now the Coastal until her ears rang and her muscles ached and she felt the burn of anger fade, bit by bit.
It wasn't gone, by any means, but she'd beaten it back for the moment, storing the excess for whenever she'd have need of it in the near future.
By then it was evening, and she was set to head back and maybe grab something to eat before getting the last lingerings of it back with a few quick riffs. Considering where she was right then, a vending machine was the best she could hope for in the immediate vicinity. Not that this was a problem. She'd had to make do with worse, back in the day.
She pulled into the deserted seaside parking lot, brought the bike to a halt, and froze upon noticing that the lot wasn't as empty as she'd thought.
Sylvie's bike sat in the shadows of the far corner, almost invisible in the twilight, its rider huddled with her back against the seaward railing and ... sleeping?
There was something about her, even though her face was mostly obscured as she sat there, nearly motionless, that spoke of a troubled time. More so than usual.
For a moment, she was tempted to start her ride back up, turn it around ... but only for a moment.
Then she dismounted, shucked her helmet, and made to approach her ...
... what was Sylvie to her?
That night, several days ago, had been emotional enough to have that particular issue fall to the wayside. The only thing Priss was certain of was that she cared for Sylvie, and vice versa ... every more definite sort of classification escaped her.
Life, she thought in a brief instant of semi-humor, had been much easier when she'd been all about revenge.
Then there was motion, and a moment of panic, and the hard ground touching her shoulder as her legs burned with the brief burst of motion, and her hand was going into her leathers to close on the butt of her gun before conscious thought actually made her pause - on one knee, and one hand, the other having half drawn her pistol.
For a second, Sylvie had been a blur of startled activity, ending up in a similar position with an automatic half-drawn from its holster in the small of her back, before she'd frozen in recognition and horrified realization.
"Oh god, Priss! I'm so sorry," the sexaroid blurted, falling back down onto her rear with a startled expression on her face. She seemed to draw into herself. "I almost ..."
"Don't worry about it," the singer replaced her weapon in its holster, picking herself up and brushing off her leathers. "Nothing happened. I've gotta say, though - didn't expect you here. Didn't expect you to be this wired, either."
"I've had a bad night," Sylvie said, quietly. "Wanted to clear my head, so I rode around and came here, and somehow ended up ..." she shrugged weakly.
Priss paused for a second at that first bit. "I sorta know where you're coming from," she finally spoke, and was tempted to leave it at that.
Sylvie was someone she cared about. Sylvie was someone who cared for her.
"D'you want to talk about it?"
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp ***
END Who wants to live forever? And in the next chapter:
- more Priss and Sylvie. For some reason, it's this interaction that's hijacking my mind. Maybe I just like writing PrissWithEmotions, or something.
- what the hell was that whole Kiba/Jeena thing? Special delivery.
- Leon, Daley. The case of busted BUMA. Knight Sabers, public enemies?
- Largo loves it when a plan comes together.
- and more.
Hopefully before New Year's Eve.
-Griever

ETA: Editsu.
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

Retraining

Posted by: Black Aeronaut - 12-02-2006, 12:49 PM - Forum: Hangar 13 - Replies (11)

Edited for a small, but blatant, screw up.
There is a huge plot point at the end of the first major over-arch that I've had planned for the longest time. Basicly, through some miracle of The Trinity's working, Rhodes, and, by association, Alita too, get bodies that seem a lot more human.
How human? Lemme put it this way: they bleed red and they can have kids. Of course, this means they'll have inherent weaknesses. Sure, they'll have stronger-than-normal-human constitutions, but they're a lot easier to kill in Human Mode.
Yeah, that's right. Human Mode. They're gonna have an alternate form that rivals being a Manticore, but attaining it is another matter.
And so, our intrepid heroes, now finding themselves cut-free from the UNSC, are sent off by the Trinity to a new school... As kids. Thing is, though, where Ben and Alita are going they're gonna need one more partner in crime...
The following was RPed out between a friend of mine (You folks will be seeing her on the boards as IzuruAkiko) and myself, and then edited into it's current form by yours truly. Naruto based fiction here. Feel free to point out any blatant goof-ups or inconsistencies - this cut is meant to be shot down in flames if it can't fly well enough.

The full moon lit the forest below in the middle of the night as a strange figure stealthily made its way through the woods. With as little as she wore, it was impossible to mistake Izuru Akiko for anything but female.
Ninja hardly ever do things like this for personal gain they do it either because its what theyve been hired to do so. This was not the case for Akiko, though. She was following leads that she was hoping that would lead to an old acquaintance; someone whod left her village and ruined her chances of becoming a hunter-nin.
At last, she came to a stop. In the distance was a hideout with a distinctive snake symbol. It seemed that her journey was at an end, but she still had to find him. It was not for certain that hed be there, after all. However, just the chance that he would was worth the trip to come and check it out. If he was, she fully intended to make him pay for her humiliation.
Slowly, cautiously, she approached the hideout and went inside, taking one of the one of the ensconced torches nearby down the stairs with her. There were traps to be sure, and guards as well, but the traps were easily avoided and the men where merely there to ward off bandits they were far outclassed by Akiko.
Finally, she reached the heart of the hide out from where Orochimaru would direct his operations But instead found an empty room.
God damn you, Orochimaru! she cursed in frustration. This had been the fifth hideout she had raided and it born no more fruit than her previous attempts to find the missing-nin. He had been crafty indeed to lay the trail of misinformation that had led her astray. Heaven only knew where he was by now and it would be futile to even continue searching for clues.
Why do I even bother? she muttered to herself as she turned and left the empty room.
The full weight of her failure began to hit her as she left the hideout. Had it been worth it to leave Konoha to find him? Had it been worth the waste of time and energy? To be sure, she could lead a very good life in any number of positions as a Ninja, but it would not be what she wanted. Not at all.
At that moment, everything fell utterly and terribly silent. There was no wind. The birds and insects all around didn't move. There wasn't even the sound of the hide out settling into its foundations. It was as though time itself has forgotten about her. Akiko had just enough time to become very, very suspicious when she heard the bell-toned voice of a woman behind her.
Akiko. She spun around to face the source of this voice, but did not attack if it had been an assassin sent by Orochimaru then she would have been dead already. What she was, though, went far beyond her expectations, for stood a young woman with a gentle face marked with strange blue tattoos and was framed by a fall of long, beautiful, honey-blonde hair. She wore colorful and insanely elaborate, yet beautiful, robes that were nothing at all like anything Akiko had ever seen in her life.
The hell? said Akiko, completely taken aback by this womans appearance. Who are you?
Akiko, she said once more in that mesmerizing, bell-toned voice of hers. Do you wish that your life could be different now?
What kind of question is that? she said, utterly confused now. And how do you know my name?
Akiko, said another womans voice, only this one was deep, husky, sultry, and coming from somewhere off to her left side. Unable to resist the call of such a voice, she turned and saw a new woman, taller and more mature than the first one, with dark, swarthy skin and long hair the color of new-fallen snow. Her clothes were in the colors black and crimson were very risqu. She also had strange blue markings on her face similar to the first womans.
Akiko, she said once more, ensuring that she had her undivided attention. Do you regret your choices in the past? This time, Akikos resolve gave way and she could not stop herself from answering this question.
Yes, I she faltered. She the went on contritely, I regret leaving Konoha. I regret throwing away everything I had worked for to find my sensei.
Akiko, came another voice, this one belonging to a girl-child and coming from somewhere behind her. Completely enraptured, she could not stop herself from turning to see who it was. It was indeed a little girl, no older than nine or ten years old, with long raven black hair and simpler clothes in light pink and red. Oddly enough she seemed to be wearing a huge and ornate hammer on her back and a tool belt around her waist. She had strange blue marks on her face as well.
Akiko, do you want a chance for a better future? asked the child.
Anything is better than the mess I have made for myself, she said sadly without hesitation.
Are you willing to start over again to make amends? said the sultry voiced woman behind her.
Akiko turned and nodded yes.
Are you willing to accept the compassion and assistance of others and return it to them in kind? said the bell-tone voiced woman.
Akiko turned to her and stammered, I I am.
Are you willing to give more thought to your decisions in regards to your future? said the child.
Yes I am willing to, said Akiko. Then, some semblance of sense returned to her and she asked, But why are you asking me these questions? And who are you?
In response, the sultry voiced woman and the child stepped closer to the bell-tone voiced woman.
We represent The Trinity, they intoned together and as they did it was as though a great bell had been rung and the world around her was shuddering with its force.
Past, said Sultry.
Present, said Bell-tones.
Future, said the Child.
These are our aspects, they intoned together once more.
Akiko then fully comprehended her situation and could only nod numbly.
We, here and now, set a task before you, said the bell-toned one.
Aid our chosen warriors in their studies, said the sultry voiced one.
And your efforts will be rewarded, said the Child.
Do you accept? all three said at once.
You want me to look after your chosen warriors and train them? she said, unable to keep the fearful edge out of her voice. The three only stared back at her intensely.
Yes, said Akiko after thinking about it for a moment. I accept the responsibility.
So mote it be, then, they intoned one final time and then everything whited out. Akiko did not know what was going to happen now, but she accepted it as her consciousness blurred away.
***
Hey, Akiko! Wake up! said the voice of a boy that she did not know No, wait, she did know him. He was Ruhodesu Benjamin, an orphan that lived here in Konoha with her. Akiko stirred for a moment and cracked open an eye to look at the baby-faced dark-maned boy who stood in front of some bright light source possibly an open window. She groaned and screwed her eye shut against the exceedingly loud photons.
Cant I at least get a few more minutes? she mumbled, daring to open that eye and then clamping it shut again when the light seared her eye.
Cmon Akiko! said a girls voice that seemed strange No, she knew her too. Her name was Yokano Alita and she was another orphan that lived with her. Were gonna be late to meet our new instructor!
At that she sat up an opened her eyes to look at the two blearily. She felt utterly dazed and confused and not just because she was waking up. It was as if she knew these two, but, at the same time, didnt; she knew who they were, knew that shed known them for quite some time. It was an odd feeling, but she shook it off, chalking it up to the weird dream she had been having. What the hell had that been anyways?
Alright, alright, she grumbled as she stretched and yawned. Geeze, you guys cant let me sleep in even if its for a few moments?
Are you nuts!? said Ben. If you dont get dressed were gonna be late to meet our Genin Instructor!
Hai, hai, Akiko replied, tuning him out, but I wanted to sleep in a little longer.
Geeze, and I thought I was the guy who wasnt the morning person, muttered Ben. Whatever. Looks like youre gonna need some help. Ill leave you two girls so you can get dressed. So saying, Ben left to wait outside.
Yeah, see you later, Ben-chan, replied Akiko groggily. She then threw the covers off and Alita helped her up and over to the dresser, where there just happened to be a full-length mirror. Akiko was muttering about teacher schedules when she chanced to look into said mirror. She stopped in mid syllable, and pointed.
AAAGGHHH! she said, and pointed once again.
What!? Whats wrong? cried out Alita, concerned and not understanding what was up with her friend.
My boobs are gone! she yelled as she pointed at the reflection of her chest in the mirror. And Im short! she added.
What are you talking about? said Alita, a bit disgustedly. Youre only twelve, just like me Though itd be nice if we did have boobs already, she conceded.
Wha!? Akiko cried out, snapping around to look at Alita. You said Im only twelve!? But Im twenty-three Or was that in the dream? But that couldnt be. I know I had passed the Genin exam and become a Jounin. I know I did
Alita only shook her head and sighed as she got the essentials out of Akikos dresser for her.
You must have been sleeping a lot more deeply than we thought, she said as she then pushed a bundle of clothes into Akikos arms. Here, get dressed. Ben-kun is waiting and we dont have time for this. Akiko snapped out of it and started getting dressed.
I still dont understand, she said as she pulled her tank top off over her head, still confused from her dream.
Too bad we dont have time for coffee, said Alita, somewhat darkly, in response as she began to gather Akikos shrunken, kunai, and other ninja tools and weapons. You shouldnt stay up so late.
Akiko nodded. Maybe it was just a dream and Im overreacting, she thought aloud. Once she was dressed, Alita then shoved the weapons and equipment into Akikos arms.
You can put them on when we get there. Lets just hurry.
Okay, okay, replied Akiko a bit franticly now that she realized that they were indeed in a hurry. Together, they charged out the door and past Ben who had been patiently waiting for them outside.
About time! he said as he caught up. Lets go!
***
Genin Team 11 made it with no time to spare. Initially, this was much to their chagrin. Once they got there though, they quickly became relieved, as their instructor was not there yet. Relief turned to annoyance once more, though, as their instructor did not arrive for hours.
Where in the blue blazes is this guy? said Ben, using his alien vernacular once more. Akiko looked at her teammate oddly and sighed.
Okay, this is not fair! she said as she got up and faced her other teammates. All the other teams already got their instructors and left and ours hasnt even shown up yet! Even Team Sevens instructor showed up and theyve all gone to get lunch!
Alita sighed as well. I know. This isn't normal. It's like we're being tested or something. The very thought made Akiko so angry that she grabbed a chair and an eraser and did the exact same thing Naruto did to see if their teacher was just that lame or not.
Uhm, not exactly my first choice, said Ben. If Alita's right then we should do a little more than just that.
Ambush? suggested Alita.
Well I wouldnt go that far, said Akiko. But at least Ill get a good laugh at this.
Alita rolled her eyes and Ben made a silent oookayyyy...
Ignoring this byplay, Akiko got down, put the chair back, and waited for the instructor to show up so she could see if Narutos trick would work.
You know, this isn't exactly the best first impression, said Ben.
Akiko gave Ben a sidelong look. And you think being late is?
That too, he conceded.
If I was a jounin and I was assigned a team, then I would make sure I was not late at all.
You're too noisy, deadpanned Alita.
At that point, a tall and whiplash-thin jounin with a mask that covered all his face except his right eye walked in as he opened the door only to be hit on the head by the eraser.
Akiko proceeded to laugh herself silly. Gotcha! she cried out between laughs. I cant believe you fell for it!
Ben just smiled and shook his head. Alita rolled her eyes once more and wondered why this silly girl was her friend again.
The instructor looked at the loud genin and the two quite ones. Hmm, he said as he put his hand to his chin. How shall I put this?
Akiko stopped laughing and looked at him, confused a by his behavior.
Based on my first impression I'd have to say, he said, throwing in a dramatic pause, I hate you.
Akiko promptly looked embarrassed.
What? said Alita in deadpan tone again.
Ben blinked. Awfully quick to judge, there, aren't'cha?
Akiko was not one to take insults lying down, however, and snapped out of her fit of embarrassment.
Hey! Thats not fair at all!
The instructor just looked at the three. They looked like misfits but who knows what events were to rise. They might actually surprise him. He then moved to the center of the classroom were he leaned up against the desk.
Alright, he said. Now, I'd like you all to tell us a little about yourselves.
Akiko only glared at their new instructor. Like what? Hmm?
Aki-chan! said Alita chastisingly.
Akiko shot a look back at Alita. What?
The instructor looked at Akiko and thought, Great, a loud mouth.
Well you know, he said. The usual. Your favorite things. What you hate most. Dreams, ambitions, things like that.
Well I wont share a single thing to a complete stranger unless you share first, Sensei, said Akiko vehemently. Ben chuckled at that. Leave it to Akiko to turn the tables like that.
Alita sighed and privately thought to herself, I hope none of my children are that ill mannered.
Oh, me? said the Instructor glibly. My name is Hatake Kakashi. I'm the kind of person who doesn't feel like talking about his likes and dislikes. My dreams for the future are none of your business. But anyways, I have lots of hobbies.
Akiko looked at her friends and whispered, Hey, he said a lot, but so far we only learned his name.
Ben shrugged. I'd give it some time. He then turned to Kakashi and said, The name's Ruhodesu Benjamin. I like good food, good friends, and a good fight. What I hate is people doing idiotic things. My dream is to become a highly skilled ninja so I can protect my friends.
Alright, said Kakashi. Who else will volunteer?
Akiko raised her hand. I will! she practically yelled. My name is Izuru Akiko, and my dream is to grow up and be the best hunter-nin there is! What I dislike the most is preppy girls that think they look better then the rest. She crossed her arms haughtily at the statement. What I like to do in my spare time is take naps and have good dreams. Though lately theyve been pretty weird.
Weird how so? asked Ben.
Well I dream that I was a different person Though I dont think she was very happy.
Kakashi nodded at this thoughtfully. Very strange, indeed.
Guess that leaves me, said Alita unenthusiastically. I'm Yokano Alita. My favorite thing is music. The things I hate the most are Evil Eye Butterflies and guys who think theyre all tough and macho. My dream is to marry Ben-chan, have a family, and fight by his side.
To many people, that would have come across as an extremely bold statement for a girl Alitas age while they do have their crushes, they dont usually come right on out and say whom they intend to marry, especially not in the intended husbands presence. But what most people dont know is that Alita is a very bold person who cares little about what others think of her life decisions, except maybe Ben.
Ben, himself, was not surprised. Long before they wound up like this they had decided that they were going to get married someday.
Akiko, however, who was just now joining the gang in a metaphysical sense, was completely taken by surprise, but not unhappily so.
Well whens the wedding!? Akiko cried out.
As a reward, Ben grabbed her up in a headlock the way a loving big brother is apt to do so with a younger sibling who just said something incredible dumb.
Kakashi eyed the byplay with much amusement. Well it's kind of obvious that young girls are more interested in love then Ninjutsu.
Humph! said Alita.
Leggo! Leggo! snarled Akiko adorably as she struggled ineffectually against Ben. Argh! Im going to make sure that youre wedding will be an embarrassing one for you, Ruhodesu Benjamin, if you dont let go!
Silly, said Ben fondly and he let her go. Freed from the headlock, Akiko straightened her hair and then smacked Ben in the back of the head.
Dont do that again!
Ben only blew a quick raspberry at her in reply.
Ugh, you two! said Alita in exasperation.
And that would be a preview of your future, Kakashi stated sagely to Alita, who gave him a look that could have vaporized him if looks could kill. Wow, she can be pretty scary, thought Kakashi as he gave her a nervous smile. In that case, I dont envy Benjamin very much at all.
All I ask for is to be the best man, said Akiko. Even though I am a girl. I dont like wearing dresses and I refuse to wear one.
Well, that was fun, said Ben glibly. What's next?
Well, said Kakashi, I believe we know have a good understanding of each other. Formal training begins tomorrow.
Hai! said Akiko energetically. And what will we be doing?
Our first project only involves the members of this cell, went on Kakashi.
What is it?! cried out Akiko impatiently.
Kakashi smiled under his mask. Survival exercises.
Survival, huh? said Alita quietly.
Survive exercises? said Akiko dejectedly.
Didn't we learn that in school? said Ben.
And why is that a mission? demanded Akiko.
Kakashi looked at them wearily. You will have to survive against me. It wont be your typical practice.
Well, what kind of practice will it be? said Akiko. Kakashi chuckled at the question and Akiko got red in the face.
Hey! Whats so funny, Sensei?
Ladies and gentlemen. My adoptive sister, the machine gun, deadpanned Ben.
Akiko gave Ben a sidelong glare. I am not a machine gun!
Well, maybe if you didn't rapid-fire your questions, said Alita tiredly.
Hey, Id rather ask questions than look stupid and not ask them at all.
Kakashi cleared his throat. Oh, its nothing. It's just... If I told you, you'd chicken out.
Us? Chicken out? said Ben with a feral grin. Try us. Of course, he could say things like that. He's had more than a few things try to eat him before. And that was when he was a cyborg. Alita, however, had not shared in all of Bens adventurous exploits.
Ben, not all of us are as inherently overconfident as you, said Alita chidingly. Akiko, though, looked a little confused at his statement despite Bens confidence.
Why would we chicken out? she asked.
Well of the twenty-seven members of your graduating class, said Kakashi explanatorily, only nine will actually be accepted as junior level shinobi. Of course, the other eighteen must go back for more training. The test we are about to perform has a 66% rate of failure.
Ben made an appreciative whistle at that.
Alita only shrugged as though to say, Oh well. Dem's da breaks.
Gah! cried out Akiko, causing Kakashi to laugh. That laugh, though, only served to solidify Akikos determination. Well, even so, I wont give up just because it has a 66% rate of failure! I studied and trained so I could pass and I am not going to let this test set me back!
Ah, what she said, said Ben, only a bit more quietly.
I've never backed down from a challenge, said Alita with a feral grin.
So, said Akiko, her confidence bolstered by the affirmation of her friends, when do we meet up for the test, Kakashi Sensei?
Kakshi smiled under his mask once more. Maybe this team did have what it takes.
Well, it seems we have eager team mates. In any case, we'll meet tomorrow morning on the practice field so that I can evaluate each of your skills and weaknesses. Bring all your ninja tools and weapons. And dont have breakfast before hand... unless you enjoy throwing up.
HUH? said Ben at the last bit.
Kakashi walked over to them and handed out papers to Akiko, Ben, and Alita
The details of your assignment are on these handouts. Memorize them and dont be late. Akiko looked at Kakashi in confusion.
Throw up? she said worriedly. How hard is this examination exercise going to be?!
Kakashi, though, only waved and disappeared in the puff of spoke.
Hard enough, I guess, said Alita.
Well said Akiko, thinking this turn of events over. Hmm. Well are you guys gonna have breakfast in the morning?
I dunno, said Ben.
Five bucks says that he does, and pukes, said Alita to Akiko.
Oooh! Youre on! said Akiko in reply to the wager. Ben only raised an eyebrow at that. In fact, ten bucks says he pukes with in the hour!
If we're up against a jounin, this exercise could be measured in seconds, said Alita.
But I dont think hes a jounin, said Akiko as she read the paper then crumpled it up and stuffed it in a pocket.
Looks can be deceiving, said Ben, who then muttered under his breath, Boy, do I know it
Anyways, said Akiko, when is the big wedding!? Neh? Neh? she asked happily, nudging Alitas shoulder. And do I get to be best man or woman or whatever? Just as long as I dont have to wear a girly dress
Alita suddenly hooked an arm over Akikos shoulders and bent to whisper in her ear, Aki-chan, didn't I tell you before?
What? replied Akiko, trying to jog her memory for whatever girl-talk theyd had before.
Ugh! Baka! hissed Alita disgustedly. I told you we were up too late that night.
No, Im sure you did, said Akiko appealingly. Alita still didnt look all that pleased. Okay, okay, dont tell me, dont tell me. It will come to me. All I recall from last night were Hmm going into a hide out, but what was I searching for? Or was that the dream? Argh! It was obvious that she was starting to get frustrated as she began to tug on her hair.
Akiko? Are you okay? said Alita, genuinely concerned. Ben even took noticed, outsider that he was on the female conspiracies.
Akiko seemed to give up and sighed. Yeah, I'm okay. I just keep remembering bits and pieces of last night, but sometimes they feel like a dream and I cant remember last nights conversation at all. Its very frustrating.
Ben and Alita briefly gave each other significant looks. They, too, had an experience like this one, and now they were starting to wonder about their adoptive sister. But now wasnt the time to discuss something like that.
Okay, no more late nights for you, said Ben. Bed. Early. Period. Alita will make sure of it.
That I will, she confirmed.
Ah, geeze! wailed Akiko. Who made you guys my sleep patrol! Later, she reflected that it was remarkable, to say the least, how mature those two seemed. At times, anyways.

As I said before, feel free to shoot this one down in flames if you feel moved to do so.
Hey Valles! Wanna make this a parellel development to TGNH or has that already progressed too far?

Black Aeronaut Technologies Group
Aerospace Solutions for the discerning spacer
"To the commissary we should go," Yoda declared firmly. "News
of this kind a danish requires."

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

Posted by: Mekadave - 12-01-2006, 10:40 PM - Forum: The Legendary - Replies (18)

	Someone on the forums found this on Test server in Pocket D: Big Pic Winter event, here we come! Global: @Jimmy Amp "Broad-minded is just another way of saying a fellow's too lazy to form an opinion." -- Will Rogers

Yet Another New Fic Reccomendation Thread

Posted by: Xenoproctologist - 12-01-2006, 06:47 AM - Forum: Archived Fanfic Recommendations - Replies (398)

	Yeah, I suppose this one's due too. In any case, Mediancat has posted the first chapter of the sequel to "April 10, 1997", titled "The Sum of Their Parts".

A Mute Button

Posted by: Evil Midnight Lurker - 12-01-2006, 02:11 AM - Forum: The Game Everyone Loves To Play - Replies (1)

A post elsewhere on the boards reminded me of something I'd been meaning to post: a power song that while undeniably useful would probably be frowned on by the other Warriors... Smile
Came in from a rainy Thursday
On the avenue
Thought I heard you talking softly
I turned on the lights, the TV
And the radio
Still I can't escape the ghost of you
What has happened to it all?
Crazy, some are saying
Where is the life that I recognize?
Gone away
But I won't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive
Passion or coincidence
Once prompted you to say
"Pride will tear us both apart"
Well now pride's gone out the window
Cross the rooftops
Run away
Left me in the vacuum of my heart
What is happening to me?
Crazy, some'd say
Where is my friend when I need you most?
Gone away
But I won't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive
Papers in the roadside
Tell of suffering and greed
Here today, forgot tomorrow
Ooh, here besides the news
Of holy war and holy need
Ours is just a little sorrowed talk
And I don't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive
Every one
Is my world, I will learn to survive
Any one
Is my world, I will learn to survive
Any one
Is my world
Every one
Is my world
--Duran Duran, Ordinary World
Now there are a lot of valid readings for this one, but the impression it always gives me is of resignation to/acceptance of mundanity. So, my suggestion:
It inverts Doug's chaos field, and for the duration transforms him into that most feared of all opponents -- a Level Three Mundane. Only his own song-power is exempt from this (so it will end).
To support this effect, Doug is subject to a massive delusion -- he's convinced that he never had superpowers. Either he thinks he's just woken up from a long spell of insanity, or his memory reconfigures itself so that he doesn't know he ever was a Warrior... pick one, or randomly choose every time the power activates. Smile Whichever, he's also disinclined to turn off the music and will rationalize leaving it and his helmet on as long as possible.
As usual for the condition, he'll also be quite convinced that there's no such thing as superpowers, aliens, technology beyond 1990's Earth, et cetera... but whether or not he retains his memory, this won't bother him much. He's okay with the ordinary world, and he'll learn to survive...
--Sam
"You're making the other accountants nervous."

Question for those who know

Posted by: Bob Schroeck - 11-30-2006, 10:05 PM - Forum: The Legendary - Replies (6)

I've never bothered with respeccing any of my characters, but I've just realized that I have a power or two in Eva's assortment that I don't ever use, and I should probably respec to get rid of them. And I've had one free respec for months now that I've never used.
The question is, how do I trigger a respec, and how does it work?
-- Bob
---------
...The President is on the line
As ninety-nine crab rangoons go by...

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