Man, someone remind me to never go through 6 2liter bottles of 'Spew
in a 2 day period.. UGH...

Okay. I've made some format changes in this upgrade..

Note, for the beta testers who saw my ORIGINAL work, that
Chapter One has been moved back into Chapter Zero. 

It's also now divided into sections.

Enjoy. C&C is requested-- this time, don't just tell me 'blah blah' only!
Tell me SPECIFICALLY where things are wrong.. give me exact
quotes from the story! Thanks!

Enjoy, as always.. and lastly:

Free plugs: If you like this, try Undocumented Features, Bubblegum Zone,
and Twisted Path. They're MUCH better than this.


And now, the story...




Unlimited Moment     ---    Chapter ZERO: Prelude to a Nightmare

(Special thanks to Twister for the stolen paragraph..)

Chapter Zero -- Section One: Chaos Incarnate

The sun streaming through the windows illuminated the room. An extremely
cluttered room, sounds of light snoring eminated from the bed. Next to the
bed, several dozen empty Mountain Dew cans testified to the caffeine intake
of the young man on the bed.  Upon a desk next to the bed, a computer sat,
silently contemplating with its cover off, a screen saver. Cables of every
sort were attached to the computer -- a sure sign the man in question was
into computers heavily. Across the floor, a sea of cables, cords, books,
clothes, and papers floated, a mute testiment to the man's bachelor tendencies.


With an audible ring, the old-fashioned steel clock sitting atop the
computer began
to protest the fact that John was still sleeping.


John was average, really, teetering on the brink between manhood and
teenager. He was 18 years old, with black hair, and hazel eyes. Standing
about 5'6, he seemed to have an aura of power around him whever he stood at
a terminal-- he was at home with any kind of PC.


The clock's immensely annoying ringing continued for about 15 seconds before
John even twitched a foot. The ringing didn't stop, and John blearily opened
a bloodshot eye. One glance at the clock explained it all, and an instant
later the clock was introduced to Mr. Wall one more time, denting the wall
yet again. The ringing stopped.


John reached to the floor, searching for an unopened Mountain Dew..
"Grargh.. There HAS to be one here somewhere!", he muttered aloud, "Grarrrrgh.."


Finding none, the morning seemed a lot worse than it was-- which was
considerably bad, mind you! Crawling to his feet, he glanced at the
'screensaver' on his PC.. Super Street Fighter 2 Turbo ran on Demo Mode on
the PC. <Hmm.. Ryu VS Sagat.. A good battle.. I'd bet my money on Ryu. If I
had some. *sigh*>


He didn't stay to watch the outcome of the battle-- instead, he exited his
room (tripping over only 30 or 40 items along the way), and headed to the
kitchen. Opening the refrigerator didn't reveal any Dew in the house, much
to John's chagrin. <Ohno! We're out of 'Spew! AARGH!!! I can't start my
morning without my 'Spew!>


A note on the table read, "Found this card at a yard sale yesterday.. looks
to be PC compatible.. try it in your PC, it might be interesting. -- Andrew"
and beside it sat a small halfcard.


<Hmm.. I wonder what it is.. no external ports on it..>


Careful examination of the card showed it to have a processor of some sort
on it,
and several other chips, but oddly enough none of the chips were recognizable.


<I guess the only way to check out the card is to actually put it into my
machine and
see.. I hope it doesn't fry my PC..>


He carried the card over to his PC, and flipped the BigRedSwitch(TM). He glanced
warily around.. "What, no sirens? No flashing red lights?"


Finding an empty slot among all the cables running out of every imaginable
orifice
was a difficult-- no, NEAR-IMPOSSIBLE-- task. His skill prevailed against
the cable
beasts and he was able to install the card into an open slot. John proceeded to
power the machine up.


The screen blinked to life and filled with jumbled ascii characters, then the
overwhelming smell of burnt electronics filled the air. Panicking, John
grabbed the
card with one hand and flipped the power switch with the other. His vision
filled to
white, an immense explosion rocking the room, then there was nothing...


His mind burst into white flame, consciousness falling to pain. He screamed, but
nothing came out of his lungs-- he couldn't see it, but every cell in his
body was
losing cohesion. As his last thoughts themselves lost cohesion, the world had
blacked out to his remaining senses. 


The Void between universes is not quite the empty nothingness it is
believed to be. Forces beyond most beings contend here for supremacy
over the others. Some are mindless, some are not, and some are not even
able to be described on those terms.


Powers from some planes spill out here and are tapped by other
universes. The reality-warping forces changing the "normal" ways of those
places. Natural or not, in whichever universe, the power behind the throne
is located here. 


Two such forces, well known to mankind, can be found in the Void. The
spillage from their planes can be found relatively nearby each other
and travellers going from universe to universe witness their mighty
clash. For these forces, siblings of a sort if you will, are both attracted
and repelled by the other.


They collide in an area where they meet and separate, for natural
laws are absent in one yet entrenched in the other. The energies stay in that
spot before going to other universes where they are tapped or dissipated.
Many beings have tried to control this spot when they discovered it, but in
vain. When either of the forces can control the controllers it becomes
a hopeless task. Experienced races merely leave this spot alone, knowing
what it is and gaze in awe over the power involved.


Only one man has ever actually tried to enter this area. The powerful
energies there are random and capricious. Only the insane would attempt such a
feat. Or perhaps...someone with no choice at all.... 


The story of that man, originally Darren Steffler, who became Twister, is
related in the story Twisted Path. This, however, is not his story.


John's energy form entered the Void, the rip closing behind him. His
consciousness
was still lost, as he had no physical mind. Passing by the famed Event, a
few swirls of magic and psionics mingled with him then went on to their
destinations.


A new rip opened in front of him, and he was pulled in. Then, nothing.


The dull sound of acid rain splashing among dying buildings filled the air,
then a crash of thunder filled John's ears as his consciousness began to
revive. <Odd.. it wasn't raining when I got up this morning..>


His eyes opened to a dark blur. Slowly, everything focused among his vision.
A dead metropolis, crumbling, lied all around him. Building after building,
shattered, crumbling, lie in silent testamony to the death of this city. The
tallest building caught John's eye. He peered at it through the rain. The
faint markings on the building were burned into his mind forever... Genom...
This was MegaTokyo! How had he gotten into an anime? Or... could this be
real? The MegaTokyo John knew was a thriving world, protected by the Knight
Sabers and AD Police. Why was this so... dead?


The whole scene lying before his eyes was overwhelming. He shivered, the
eerie desolation making him nervous. He looked down, rubbing his arms. <It's
cold.. What happened here?>


He noticed a small computer expension card sitting by his foot. The card
jolted his memory and he remembered. <The explosion.. could I really be in
MegaTokyo?>


John reached down and picked up the card. It was still intact. He looked
quickly around for the closest shelter from the rain. About 10 meters away,
a building sat, fairly intact. His mind was set.


He sprinted to the building and forced the metal door open. The musty smell
of an ancient tomb rushed to his nostrils, causing him to wince slightly.
Bile rose into his throat, fear threatening to overtake him. He swallowed
hard and walked inside.


John's eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the building. The hall was in
perfect condition-- no spiderwebs covered the walls. <That's odd.. if there
was any life, you'd see some sign.. but this seems completely devoid of life!>


He cautiously walked through the hallway, the surrounding areas growing
darker. He reached an intersection. To the right, a faint glow.. Forward,
utter darkness. John thought a moment and headed right. Entering a small
room, the glint of a terminal caught his eye. A terminal? Still running? He
frowned and walked to the terminal. A message warning of low reserve power.
Of course! The PC was running off a battery backup of some kind. In front of
the terminal, a lone chair sat. He sat at the terminal and pressed the spacebar.


The terminal came to life, displaying a still logged-in account. John
studied all the login information. Sylia Stingray was the last user.. and
she'd been logged in for... 30 years. <My god... The city has been dead for
30 years...>


John shivered. Spending several hours on the terminal, he was able to at
last piece together the final hours of MegaTokyo. The Knight Sabers had been
killed, except for Sylia, on a suicide mission. She was wounded badly enough
that she'd never be able to fight again. Several years passed, the boomer
rampages becoming more and more violent. They turned against and destroyed
Genom utterly. All of humanity was helpless to stop the advance. In one
final battle, all life on the planet was destroyed, but all of the boomers
were destroyed as well.. a dead planet remaining.


John punched up another file marked "Sylia's Emergency Design Note" in
curiousity. A voice started behind him and he jumped out of the seat.


>From behind him, a holographic image of a remarkable woman stood regally,
her deep eyes seemingly looking into his soul. He shivered, recognizing her
immediately. Sylia.


"Knight Sabers, if you read this message, it means I didn't survive a mission.
I'm sorry I had to leave you, my friends, but we all die eventually. Contained
within this file is instructions and help on how to repair and build new
hardsuits. 
Without me, you'll be doing this by yourselves. Now, let's start..."


John paused the recording. <Hardsuit design? This could be interesting.>


Another issue thwapped at his consciousness. <John, this world is dead. There's
no food anywhere. If you don't find a way out of here, you're dead.>


An idea struck upon him, and he carefully pried the casing of the computer open.
Looking upon the computer's motherboard, he was in awe at the technology
involved. <Wow, these sure have gotten SMALLER..Wh? Crap. I love it. 1
megabit vesa-bus slots when you need an old fashioned ISA slot. Looks like
this PC can't handle my card..>


He shivered and mumbled, "My only way out is to build a hardsuit and to try to
interface that card to it..."


Leaving the terminal, he walked back to the intersection and down the dark
corridor. His footsteps echoed into his mind, the death march of an entire
population weighting his soul. At the end of the corridor, another metal
security door lay. Shattered. He stepped over the remains of the door and
into the room beyond.


Glass cylinders, hardsuits inside, filled the room. Most of the hardsuits
were severely damaged, to the point of uselessness. He studied each of the suits
and noted with disgust that they were for female pilots. <I don't have the
figure
to wear one of these! Besides, they don't work..>


Shaking his head and sighing, he knew he had no choice but to get to work. He
began the long task of dragging suit parts down to Sylia's computer.


About ten minutes later, he looked down at the fair sized pile of parts he'd 
moved. <I sure hope this works..>. He turned back to the paused hologram.


The hologram looked at him almost expectantly, and John unpaused it.


"Oh, one more thing. In case you need Mackie on the team, there's descriptions
of the necessary hardsuit modifications here, and I set aside some special parts
for his use."


John faintly grinned and paused the hologram yet again. <I'm saved! Now, where
are these parts she mentioned?>. John walked out of the lab to begin his search.


ABOUT 30 MINUTES LATER...


John looked disgustedly at the hologram. He'd looked over the entire building
several times, and not a single part was found. Things were not going his way.
Thrown from his home into a dead universe, forced to wear a WOMAN'S
hardsuit to escape, and not a scrap of food or help anywhere! This was
humilliating. John sighed and looked back to the hologram, unpausing it.


"Now, let's begin with the fundamentals.."


SEVERAL HOURS LATER...


John looked up from the suit he had just completedm his head swimming with 
formulas, ideas, concepts, and design theories.. <This suit looks like shit,
but it 
should be able to get me out of here>. The hardsuit was a motley mix of
parts and 
armour plates. It looked like something cooked up from a junkyard, which, 
technically, it was. The leg pieces didn't match, nor did the arms, and the
armour 
plates were from different hardsuits, so the suit had a psychedelic style to
it. The 
worst part about the suit was the fact he'd only been able to salvage a
small pulse 
laser and a single swordblade -- very weak weapons. He'd installed both onto
the 
wrist of the right hand, wishing he had something more powerful. <Sometimes you 
have to put up with what you can find, though..>


John smiled. <Time for the test run.. either it works, or it goes up in smoke..>


He stepped into the suit and started up the computer in it. The display lit
up, showing 
the room around him in startling detail. He didn't notice the suit close
around him, 
but he knew it had sealed when the suit tightened to his shape. The chest area 
seemed a bit roomy, and the hips were slightly too snug. He grumbled to
himself, 
knowing exactly why that was the case, and knowing he had no choice in the
matter.
The sound of seals locking into place, then the computer started diagnostics. 
Everything was fine.


<Now comes the hard part..>


He opened the expansion area on his chest, and inserted the half card, half
expecting another explosion. He was wrong. The computer merely studied the card
and printed a readout on it. <Wow! Talk about plug'n'play!>


The readout was astonishing-- the card had been DESIGNED for hardsuits! It
was a 'warpcard'. With it, a hardsuit pilot could switch universes in a
flash. The hardsuit's computer could store the relevant data for a universe
in its memory for later travel, but to FIND a universe, however, he had to
cross his fingers and randomwarp. Meaning, it'd be quite some time before he
got home (which incidently, was where
he REALLY wanted to be right now, as he wasn't the hero-type.)


John closed the expansion bay, sealing it, and took a deep breath. This
experience 
was completely new to him, yet oddly titillating. An odd thought occured to
him, and 
he could but smile. Could it be possible a fanfic was being created in his home 
universe about him? <Hi Mom! They're probably reading my mind this very instant
if that's the case. Scary thought. Perhaps I should put it out of my mind.>


John stepped to the computer and hooked his hardsuit up to it. He let the
hardsuit
download the logs and the design files, knowing they would be useful. John
walked 
carefully out of the building. He was about 50 feet from the building when
his sixth
sense buzzed a warning at him. He ignored it, knowing that the world was dead.
Nothing was there to harm him.


John was knocked out of his reverie by a sudden particle beam shot to his 
midsection, throwing him to the ground. John gasped as pain flooded his
nerves. He 
didn't even have time to think as a grey shape dashed forward. He looked
down just 
in time to see a sharpened claw punch through his already weak armor and enter 
his stomach.


Screaming in agony, few coherent thoughts were possible.. <Thought...
boomers...gone. How? Pain...too..much!>


In desperation, he fired his pulse laser, but it didn't even dent the armour
of the grey shape, now obviously a boomer. It laughed at him mercilessly,
then lifted him by the chestplate using the claw already imbedded into him.
It was holding John several feet off the ground. Blood dripped from the
gashes in the armour, punctuating the haze he was swimming in.


"I haven't seen a human in a very long time. I used to enjoy hunting. Are
you ready to die?", the boomer caustically remarked.


John was too far gone to respond.


"Oh well.. I'd hoped to have some more fun with you before I killed you, but
you're too weak."


Somewhere in John's brain, a spark flickered, a memory forgotten in the
suddenness of the attack. At the same time, the boomer's other claw reared
back, ready to finish the job the boomer had started. The spark reached
John's consciousness and he gave the command. A moment before the claw would
have reached his heart, he was gone. He had randomwarped, lucky to still
have any life left to live. The boomer was left there howling in anger at
his escape.


His last thought before he left consciousness.. <going .. come back and ...
right this wrong.. swear it!>


Chapter Zero -- Section Two: Paths


All along the seashore, waves lapped wistfully at the sand and grass. The sun 
shined brightly upon the land, giving this world a shine of health. A few
birds few 
overhead, heading back to the forests to which they lived. The serenity of
the land 
was broken; a 'rip' appeared in the sky. The birds scattered. From the rip,
a water-
like drop fell. It 'splashed' onto the grass and formed into an amoured figure.


The figure recoiled in pain and took its helmet off to show black hair and
hazel eyes. 
The figure, now obviously a he, was suffering from gaping wounds on his
torso from 
which blood dripped. He held his helmet under one arm and looked around him.
The 
man mumbled aloud, "Where am I now? Looks peaceful, though. Have to find 
help..."


Looking down, the hardsuit had looked like it'd been used in a butcher's shop. 
Blood covered the front in trails down to the feet of the pilot.. <Looks
like I made it.. 
wherever I am..>


John suddenly felt dizzy. Realizing the loss of blood was causing him to go
into 
shock, he knew he didn't have much time left before the wounds became terminal. 
He scanned the horizon, hoping to find a town, city, house, or ANYTHING that
could 
help. In the distance, an oddly familliar town lie. His mind was nowhere near 
comphrension, so he blindly staggered towards the town hopefully. Leaving a
trail of 
blood.


In a house nearby, a teenaged boy named Palom lived with his twin sister Porom. 
The two of them were mages of widely known talent, being the youngest masters
ever. Palom was a master of 'black magic'. Black magic was the kind of
spells used 
offensively, such as throwing bolts of lightning, poisoning an opponent,
etc. His 
sister, however, was a master of 'white magic'. White magic was magic with non-
offensive uses, such as healing a person, slowing them, speeding them up, and 
many other types of spell.


The twins had accidently created a new magic called "Twin Magic", a combined 
burst of white and black magic from the twins that was far more potent than
either 
mage could produce alone. This "Twin Magic" was rather unique in the fact
nobody 
else had been able to duplicate the spells they created as twins -- in any way. 


Palom grumbled, staring at his book of black magic. Homework... he hated
homework. Especially on a nice day like today. His sister had already
finished her work and had disappeared outside. He'd been caught skipping his
class the day before and had received a double-load of homework from the
Elder as a punishment. Magic homework was usually quite boring for him. 


He read the book and scribbles notes on a small scrap of paper next to him
for a minute longer, letting the frusteration boil inside him. Suddenly, it
was too much for him to bear. "Fire", he yelled, pointing a finger at the
scrap of paper. A small flame burst from his hand and flew into the paper,
igniting it. Within seconds, the scrap was charred beyond recognition.


Palom slammed the book shut and stormed outside. He started in shock as an
amoured figure staggered into town, bleeding profusely. It was obviously
humanoid
in nature. Palom heard a modulated voice whisper, "P-Palom?! Must b-be
shock..", and the figure fell to the ground unconscious.

...more to come...




John "Firehawke" Peasley                      /|
  ___________________________________________| |
 /___________________________________________|8888888888888]
               firehawke@bbs.yab.com         | |
            |\ firehawk@tendo-dojo.ranma.net |/
            | |___________________________________________
[8888888888888|___________________________________________/
            | |SF2,TP,BGZ,SFA,R1/2,KOR,BGC,SNES,PC,C++,ASM
             \| "What's wrong? Why do you hold back?"
____________________________________________________________________
"A Paladin shall protect the weak, his words only speak the truth.
He speaks with action and not words, but should be holy and just.
A Paladin is humble above all things, and a symbol of justice.
He must never willingly participate in an act of evil, and a Paladin 
must love God, a woman, the world, and himself; in that order."