Terence Fergusson (taf@isla-mia.demon.co.uk)
Books/Bubblegum Crisis/Sailor Moon
"Boomers and Youmas"
Part 1 : "Running Man"
Both Bubblegum Crisis and Sailor Moon are copyrighted by their
respective copyright owners. Any material used from Bubblegum Crisis
or the original Sailor Moon series are not of my own creation, and I
take no credit for it. Thank you for not suing me.
Ian Robinson, Chronos, and all the Books-related stuff are presumably
copyright Terence Fergusson aka Me. This fanfic, excepting those
scenes, characters and other stuff that belongs to the two
aforementioned series, plus any other anime, manga or general fiction,
is mine.
Story notes: /.../ designates thoughts...
_..._ designates stressed words...
Any other strange symbols _should_ be self-explanatory.
I used to distinguish between English and foreign languages in the
Books stories, but have refrained from it this time due to a new
development in the timeline. All will be explained.
This takes place a few months after Ian found himself in Ranma 1/2.
And now, the feature presentation... ^_^
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PROLOGUE
Now was his chance.
A swift elbow to the gut downed one of his captors, and while the
others were distracted, Ian broke away from them and belted down the
corridor, diving into a side room, and slamming the door behind him.
He lost no time in drawing the heavy wooden beam across the door,
locking himself in. In a few seconds, he had retrieved his
confiscated belongings; his brown leather jacket, with his pulse-laser
pistol still hanging out of its inside pocket, and his leather
backpack, complete with rations and various camping equipment. He had
been fortunate to be still conscious when he saw the guards taking his
stuff in here.
The guards had lost no time either. Already shouts were ringing
throughout the dungeon, and they were trying to break down the door.
A crack had appeared in the middle of the beam holding the door
closed, and it was growing with each attempt they made.
A glance at his watch gave him ten seconds to go. He counted down
under his breath, looking fearfully at the door. It wouldn't do to
have it all end with a crossbow quarrel in his back.
Bingo! The stopwatch trilled triumphantly at him, and started
counting down from 24:00:00 again. But something was wrong. No
bluefire portal had appeared this time to whisk him away. The door
was almost open now, and he could hear heavy armoured footsteps
approaching from elsewhere in the dungeon. What could have gone
wrong?!
There was only one answer. The portal hadn't appeared in this room.
Which meant he had to break through the knot of guards outside.
Cursing his luck, he drew his pistol, and aimed at the door. He had
less than a minute to do this right.
The door chose that moment to finally give, bursting open as the
beam snapped in two. But before any of the guards could enter, Ian
let loose a volley of laser fire, scattering some, scorching others.
Cries of "Sorcery!" swept down the halls, and for a brief moment, a
space opened up in the corridor.
It was enough. Ian burst into it, firing sporadically into the
midst of the guardsmen, keeping them at bay. /Only twenty seconds
left,/ he thought, as he took another hasty glance at his stopwatch,
/then it's over, one way or another./
There! To his right, at the end of a corridor, was a flickering
wafer-thin portal of bluefire. No one else seemed to have noticed
it. Probably because no one else _could_ notice it; these `gates'
seemed to be attuned to himself only. No matter. It was his only
escape, and even that would disappear in about fifteen seconds....
Following some sort of survival instinct, Ian ducked. A crossbow
bolt whistled over his head, clattering to the floor when it hit the
stone wall in front of him. At least one of his guards had the
courage to fire at a `wizard'. Ian didn't know how much longer his
luck would last. He just put his head down, and ran all the harder.
It came as a surprise to the guard when the fugitive simply vanished
into thin air. /Mind you,/ he thought, /he is a wizard./
But neither he nor his comrade could figure out where their last
crossbow bolt had gone.
--**************--
Once again, Ian felt the sheer acceleration, as his body went faster
and faster, sucked into the blue light, taken towards his next
destination. The speed was making him feel faint, but he knew it
would be over, in just a few... more... seconds....
--**************--
In another time, place, and dimension, there was, or rather is, a
town named Bath. It is one of many on an island named Britain, which
itself is just one of many nations on this blue, green world that its
inhabitants had named Earth. It is important to remember that
although Ian was a native of this town, he is nowhere near it at this
present time.
There is, in one of Bath's many streets, a bookstore. It is named
"Books".
It's a late Sunday evening. In fact, the phrase "it was still a
late Sunday evening" would be more appropriate. An angry thunderstorm
dominates the sky. Lightning is striking from the heavens, vividly
illuminating the inside of the bookstore, if only for a few moments.
Inside is a complete mess. Books have been strewn all over the
floor. There are many different types of books here. At least one of
each, one would say. By every author who has ever lived.
However, one of them has no author. It is lying on a shelf on the
only bookcase that is still standing. It's open to a page near the
beginning of the book, except it's obvious from the size of the tome
that many pages have already been covered.
Now, the page that it's on has finally been finished. A new chapter
is starting. The page turns by itself, revealing a pair of blank
sheets.
And then, they begin to fill....
--**************--
CHAPTER 1 - There's No Police Like The ADPolice....
DAY 1
It is unfortunate that Ian's predicament carried several rules. One
such that applies here were those governing the gates that Ian used to
enter other realms and dimensions. Realms and dimensions better known
to him as _books_.
The gates followed strict patterns. For instance, they only
appeared once per twenty-four hour period; a fact that Ian already
knew, and kept track of. After they appeared, they only kept open for
sixty seconds, forcing him to hurry if he wanted to leave or, as so
often happens, escape.
They were one-way as well; as soon as Ian left a portal, it would
snap shut behind him. No one else could use the portal, or indeed
even see it.
However, the rule that applies the most in this situation is the one
that dictates where he goes _to_. No matter what realm he ended up
in, whether science-fiction, fantasy, or present-day, the place he
ended up would always have similarities to the place he came from.
Therefore, it was of little surprise, but worrying, that he found
himself running out from the portal into a corridor of a jail.
A police officer looked up from where he was sitting. His eyes
focused once on Ian and his dishevelled appearance, and then on the
pistol still in Ian's hand. Ian followed the man's gaze to the
weapon, and then grinned sheepishly. He made to put the gun away.
Sadly, it was taken as an aggressive move by the inexperienced
officer. Ian dove to one side to avoid a barrage of bullets, only to
have his head bounce sickeningly off a cell bar. He slid to the
floor, only vaguely aware of his surroundings. He faintly heard the
guard shout for reinforcements, and felt a sharp pain in his wrist as
the pistol was kicked away from him. /Why does this always happen,/
he thought frustratedly, as he slipped slowly into unconsciousness.
--**************--
He woke again in a slightly familiar environment. A jail cell.
With, fortunately, himself as the only occupant. The reason it was
familiar was simply because this morning he had been sitting in a
dungeon, awaiting his execution on suspicion on sorcery. As if
appearing from nowhere in the king's courtroom actually counted as
such. He was just lucky that they'd left him his watch, and that the
timing of his escape had been perfect....
He realised that his backpack and pistol had gone walkies again.
Probably been confiscated by those bloody police officers. And he
could feel a headache coming on. Bloody headache, bloody police
officers, and bloody fate. It _had_ to be Fate; there was no bloody
force powerful enough to keep him alive yet still keep him in trouble.
At the very least, someone really had it in for him up there,
otherwise he'd have been out of this by now. And he didn't mean the
jail.
Ian had been trapped in these `books' for about eight months now.
Eight months since a freak storm sent him scurrying for cover. And
since it had been Sunday evening, almost all of the shops were closed,
which was a pity, because he had been caught in the middle of town.
He hadn't noticed at the time, but it had been eerily quiet in the
street where he found the one store with a light on; a bookstore.
It had been his curiosity, as usual, that had gotten him into
trouble. A few subtle hints led him to a secret door in the store,
which had opened to reveal a vertical pit as a room that would never,
under the normal laws of space and matter, have fitted into the small
confines of the bookstore.
He remembered the door slamming shut, and then the echoing crashes
that began seconds afterward. They had started off slowly, yet
quickly gained in frequency as the spiral staircase inscribed within
the pit began to collapse from the bottom up. He remembered racing up
the doomed staircase, striving to reach any sort of sanctuary, and
almost running off the edge as the stairs abruptly ended at the top
with nowhere else to go. And then, he remembered that final moment,
with only half a turn of the staircase left, as he noticed a portal
hovering just feet away from the end of the stairs, made of red fire;
not the blue he'd seen since. Self-preservation forced his next and
only move.
Yet it had been the only red portal he'd ever seen. He now
suspected that that would be his ticket home. But all he'd
encountered so far were made of bluefire. Sometimes he thought he'd
never find a way home....
The eight months of constant leaping, running, fighting, as well as
the interspersing moments of blissful sleep or simple unconsciousness
had all taken their toll on Ian. He hadn't had a good night's sleep
in ages, and his clothes were ragged and torn. His light brown hair
was unkempt, and the T-shirt he wore had a whole number of different
stains on it; the primary ones being grass and dirt. His leather
jacket was badly creased, and in some places, rather dirt-encrusted,
but had somehow managed to survive most of the punishment that had
been dished out to it. The pale blue jeans he wore had become even
paler, and frayed at the knees. Ian had once worn trainers; they were
the first to go, having been subjected to deep water, acid, and heat
to name a few, they had finally succumbed. He now wore brown lace-up
boots, which happened to be a lot more resistant to damage.
However, all that changed nothing; Ian was looking forward to the
next time he would get a decent hot meal, and maybe some coffee.
Perhaps a nice bath, and a shave even. He hadn't had hospitality like
that since....
/No. I'm not going to even think about that. I am not going to
even consider the word `man...' that genre./ Ian looked around
fearfully. /It might return to haunt me./
As he sat on the only bed in the cell, mulling over his current
situation, the sound of electronic locks being disengaged came from
the door. Ian rose to his feet as a smartly dressed officer entered.
His blond hair was neatly combed, but the moustache didn't hide the
frown he wore openly.
"Ok, you," he said gruffly. "Follow me."
Feeling in no mood to argue, Ian got to his feet, and trundled after
him, nursing his throbbing head.
As he walked along, something occurred to him. The officer had
spoken Japanese. Damn it, the bloody officer had spoken to him in
Japanese. Ian had no problem with understanding the language; since
his last escapade in "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", he had
picked up a very handy organism named the Babel Fish, that enabled Ian
to understand any spoken language. That was not the problem. The
problem was, that the fact that Japanese was the common language here
meant that there was a severe likelihood that he'd stumbled into what
was for him, the worst place he could ever have imagined. He knew he
was in hot water - that metaphor seemingly apt - the moment his line
of thoughts had even _strayed_ near that word; a word belonging to a
genre of books that just meant trouble to Ian.
"Manga," he muttered under his breath.
Ian had had a lot of trouble with Manga. Back when he was in Uni, a
friend of his had tried to get him into it. However, being a student
of English Literature meant that although Ian spent a lot of time
reading, most of it was directly attributed to the course. And Manga,
in Ian's opinion, wasn't English, and probably wasn't Literature.
Despite this, he'd managed to get acquainted with some of the more
popular manga and anime. Lucky for him.
The trouble had started a few months ago, when the portal had taken
him to the city of Tokyo. He hadn't known it at the time, but he'd
ended up in the world of "Ranma 1/2". There, Ian discovered exactly
what the disadvantages of living through a severe pounding were, and
what it was like to live in a world where everyone seems to
misconstrue everything you do for the worst possible thing.
Oh, and what it was like to be in a place where everyone was a
better fighter than you.
To top that, Chronos had mounted a severe attack against Ian at the
time. Ian had just decided to spend a few days with the Tendo's,
accepting their hospitality, and more to the point, their baths and
hot meals. And not only had he had to put up with the normal -
(/Normal?!/) - activities, he'd also had to put a stop to Chronos's
plans in that book. Which had almost lead to a confrontation with the
big guy himself. Herself. Whatever he was. That bloody shadowy
figure that stalked him calling himself Chronos was beginning to get
on his nerves.
Since then, Ian had harboured an intense dislike for Japanese comics
where the characters could take a great deal of punishment (i.e. lived
to deal with the pain of recovering), and where a great deal of chaos
and mayhem happened. On the other hand though, it had been the last
time he'd had a chance to really clean up....
/Well,/ he thought, /maybe I'll be lucky. I mean, just cos I'm in
Tokyo, it doesn't mean it _has_ to be Manga./
They came to a halt by a specific desk in a large office area. The
desk was vacant for the moment, but the police officer escorting Ian
pushed him into a nearby chair. "Wait here," he ordered, "you'll be
dealt with shortly." The officer turned and then went his separate
way.
/Leaving me unguarded, eh?/ thought Ian as he watched the man go.
But then he took a closer look around. The room was filled with
police; although most of them appeared to be desk-jocks, there was no
way he would be able to slip out of here unnoticed. Besides, the guys
still had his gun and pack. He couldn't leave without those.
He was startled out of his thoughts by the approach of the large
dark-haired man in uniform. He looked about in his thirties, and
didn't seem happy to be here. A name-tag proclaimed himself as
Detective Fraser. He sat himself down at the desk, and produced a
blank form, which he started to fill in after giving Ian a searching
glare.
"Name?" he barked.
/Well, if you're going to be like that..../ Ian bit back a
sarcastic remark, figuring he'd do better if he started to think up a
story now. He'd talked himself out of worse than this, hadn't he?
He cheerfully ignored the fact that he had also talked himself into
worse.
"Ian Robinson."
"Age?"
"Twenty-one."
"Job?"
Ian thought about this for a moment. Job? What _was_ his job here?
An idea sprang to mind. Maybe there was a way outta here, and an
excuse to get his gun back.
"I'm an inventor. Self-employed."
Fraser grunted at that. "You got any ID? You look a little young
to be out working for yourself." He turned up his nose. "You also
don't look like one of those techheads. Heck, you don't look like
you've had a bath in weeks!"
Oops. He hadn't thought of that. Especially about his appearance.
His mind raced as he thought up an excuse. But the detective's
patience was fast running out and....
"Fraser!"
Fraser spun round to face the back of the office area, where a tall
dark haired officer stood, yelling from her office. "Yes Ma'am?" he
replied with obvious disgruntlement.
"I need you to help organise the paperwork that's coming in this
afternoon."
"But Inspector," protested Fraser angrily, disliking having this
particular job dropped in his lap.
"Two minutes, Fraser," she warned, before disappearing back into her
room, closing the door behind her.
"Yes Ma'am," Fraser muttered, before turning back to face Ian.
"Now, about that ID...."
By this time, Ian was ready. "I'm sorry, Officer, but I didn't
bring any identification with me. In fact, I wasn't planning on going
out today. And as for my appearance...." He tried a wry smile, but
it felt odd on him under these circumstances. "I've really just been
living on caffeine for the past week. You know how it is, you get a
project, you spend days and nights on it, hardly sleeping."
He received a suspicious glare. "Care to explain how you got into
our jail? And why you threatened one of our officers?"
/This had better work,/ he thought, as he got the final kinks out of
his story. "I'm sorry if your officer thought I was threatening him.
I assure you I made no aggressive moves. I'm sure the officer
concerned told you I had appeared from nowhere? He was telling the
truth."
That provoked another glare. /Looks like I hit the nail on the
head. Guess they didn't believe the poor sod./
"I was testing an invention of mine. A small matter-transporter. I
guess it's still got a few bugs in it. I guess I'm lucky I'm even
alive. Had I materialised inside a wall...." Ian let his sentence
trail. The portals seemed to do a good job in so much that he'd never
found himself in _that_ situation. However, the thought had occurred
to him. If a portal could open up five-hundred feet in mid-air, who
says they couldn't transport him into the middle of Ayer's Rock?
"Where d'ya live?"
/Uh-oh./ Perhaps the story wasn't as watertight as he had
originally thought. He didn't know where the hell he was, and a wrong
answer here could really have him up against the wall. /Well, guess
it's time to really wing it./ "I'm still in Japan, aren't I?"
That seemed to irritate Fraser further. "Yes, of course. Why
shouldn't you be?"
Ian laughed. It was hard, but he managed to pull it off without
seeming too nervous. "With the number of bugs apparent in my
invention, I would probably be lucky to be in the same continent!"
There was a flaw in that argument, but if he was lucky....
He received yet another glare, and a raised eyebrow. "Yeah? And
what's the likelihood of you `appearing' in the ADP cells?"
"About the same as anywhere else, I reckon," countered Ian, having
fortunately been asked that type of question before.
His interrogator seemed suspicious. "And how do you work that out?"
"Have _you_ made an intensive study of quantum mechanics?"
Fraser hesitated. "Not as such, what are you getting at?"
Ian grinned. It was probably a mistake, but he did so all the same.
/There might be a chance of me getting out of here, after all!/
"Well, then you probably don't understand just how complex Matter
Transportation can be. You see, it's like Chaos...."
"I don't want to hear some crackpot explanation. I just want...."
"Fraser! Detective Fraser!"
The door to the officer's room was wide open, and the officer
herself was halfway across the floorspace when she shouted the
detective's name. Fraser let out an audible groan, and grudgingly
acknowledged his superior. "Yes Inspector?"
"I said two minutes, Fraser. You should be finished with the kid by
now."
Fraser spluttered. "But Inspector, he hasn't...."
"Fraser," interrupted the officer, "need I remind you that at four
o'clock, all the paperwork to do with the ADP's budget next year will
come streaming in through those doors, and that we're going to be
swamped until we get it all out of the way?"
The detective grimaced. "No Ma'am."
"Then just stamp the form and let the kid go. We've got more
important things to worry about. Like budget cuts."
"Yes Ma'am."
"You've got one more minute Detective. Then my office."
"Yes Ma'am."
As the inspector stalked away, Fraser furiously (in both senses of
the word) filled out the rest of the form, stamping and filing it
away. "Just get outta here, will ya? And make sure you don't come
back. And get a bath, you stink worse than... Just go, ok?" He
pointed towards the door, and started to get up.
"Waitta sec."
Fraser rounded on him. "What is it?!"
"My stuff? The gun-like device is another invention I'm working on.
I think while I was tinkering with it, it might have caused the
calibration of the Matter-Transporter unit to...."
Fraser let out an angry sigh and picked up the phone on his desk,
tapping in the appropriate extension number. "Yeah, Detective Fraser
here. Look, this kid's been discharged, but there's a bunch of his
stuff down there. No, I can't hold, I've got... Yes, that's the
stuff. Look, I don't care what the Tech department thinks, I'm
discharging the guy right now, and they're his..."
The inspector's door opened one more time, and the woman poked her
head out. "Fraser!"
Fraser cursed under his breath. "Just have it there, okay! Good.
Bye." Fraser hung up and started towards the woman who was waiting
impatiently for him.
"What about my stuff?" asked Ian again.
"Just sign for it downstairs, okay?" came the tired reply. "And
don't let me see you again." He disappeared into the inspector's
office, leaving Ian staring at the door bemused.
He shrugged and turned to leave. Hell, he was out of here, right?
Right. Just collect his gun and pack, and he would be home free. No
complications.
Everything would be just peachy.
--**************--
A few desks away, a red-haired woman looked up from her computer at
the young man leaving the building. /So that's the guy the officer on
guard duty was babbling about. Wonder what he did to get Fraser all
upset. Well, I guess no one will mind if I just sneak a peek at his
file..../
With that thought in mind, Nene Romanova went back to work.
--**************--
Outside, Ian kneeled down and checked his recovered backpack.
Everything seemed to be there, but there was also a curious addition.
Sticking out of his shield generator was a single crossbow quarrel.
The ShieldGen had been sitting there awaiting a much needed charge; it
was difficult to find a suitable charger outside of Titan.
/Shit! That was lucky! That almost killed me!/ He tentatively
removed it from the piece of equipment, and was rewarded by a shower
of sparks. /Damn. I'm not going to be able to get that fixed in a
hurry. Guess I'm back down to one mistake, and I'm history./ He
smiled ruefully. /"Luck" is my middle name,/ he quoted. /Mind you,
my first name's "Bad"./
With a sigh, he hefted his pack again, and took a look at the city.
It seemed to be early afternoon. Plenty of time to find some
abandoned warehouse and bed down before the next portal. /Now,/ he
thought, /which way to the docks..../
--**************--
On the other side of the city, a group of thugs were having an
altogether more unpleasant encounter.
"Look, man," said the ringleader, "what do you want?"
Their little ambush on the figure cloaked in shadow hadn't gone
well. It had been following them for about ten minutes now, before
they decided to find out just what this guy thought he was up to. A
sort of a show of force to demonstrate to their unwitting pursuer just
who he was dealing with.
Yet despite the fact that they had firearms, and had eventually been
forced to use them, the guy had simply stood there, not seemingly
harmed at all. If it was a guy. Anyhow, one of their number was down
on the floor, hit by some sort of weapon the guy had. It now seemed
obvious who was performing the show of force.
Cloaked in shadow wasn't just a metaphor in this case. Even when
the person stood under a streetlamp, his entire body seemed just a
black outline, literally something that light couldn't penetrate. It
was enough to spook anyone.
A heavily modulated voice came from within the silhouette. "I have
a job for people like you. If you perform well, you will be
rewarded."
The ringleader licked his lips nervously. He was a tall man, lean,
not as big or as broad as some people. His following had come from
his fighting skill and his mastery of tactics. Not that strategy
counted for much on the streets, but it sure helped. He had jet black
hair, his face unshaven. An intimidating sight in a dark alley. But
now, something had intimidated _him_. He didn't like that.
One of his friends sidled up to him, and whispered in his ear.
"Come on, Max, let's just go. This guy gives me the creeps."
Max waved him off. "What kind of job?"
"There is a certain target I want taken care of. He somehow manages
to evade me. I will provide equipment to help you take care of him."
"Max, let's get out of here! You saw what he did to Kyle...."
"And the _reward_?"
"You get to keep the equipment." And then, as an afterthought, "As
well as your lives."
At that, one of the gang panicked and ran. He got three paces when
a green bolt hit him in the back, taking him out completely. Max
kneeled by his fallen comrade and checked his pulse. Nothing.
"So," came the voice, "do we have a deal?"
"Yeah," Max replied woodenly. "A deal." /Just as soon as you turn
your back, man. Then you'll get what's coming to you./
"Good. Good. You are called Max, right? Well, Max. You may call
me... Chronos."
--**************--
End Chapter 1
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CHAPTER 2 - A Dockside Story
Despite all the weird, wacky and downright dangerous stuff Ian
had... _discovered_ when his travels took him to the twisted universe
from the mind of Douglas Adams, the one thing he was glad of, was the
organism called the Babel fish.
It was a small leech-like creature, that fit snugly into a person's
ear. It fed on not the brainwaves of its host, but that of those
emanating from others. It then excreted a brainwave pattern similar
to that it had taken in, in a form that its host could understand.
The upshot of all this, was that Ian could understand any language
spoken to him.
Sometimes Ian wondered exactly how far the thing worked. It should
have worked only one way, and only if the person was present. But
surprisingly, it seemed that this was one thing that was determined to
go right for him. For not only could he understand those near him,
but they automatically understood him. Apparently, they thought he
replied to them in their native language, which had made for some
awkward encounters at times. With the Babel fish, every spoken
language had been opened for him. It was like one of those
Linguaphone things, except without the hassle. Less expensive too.
Of course, it didn't break all the language barriers. Reading still
made as much sense as ever; Japanese was just a funny set of squiggles
to him.
This somewhat _small_ limitation had in the past caused, and was
currently causing, problems. Directions for example. Since Ian
couldn't read the various streetsigns, or decipher any sort of map, he
usually took to asking directions from passers-by. Said passer-by had
a tendency to look at him strangely, point at a nearby sign, and then
walk off without a word.
To put it in a nutshell, it was annoying.
However, he eventually managed to find out which direction the docks
were, where, hopefully, he'd find some sort of disused warehouse where
he could spend the night. If some deranged scheming mad scientist
hadn't decided to use it as his base first. Sometimes it astounded
Ian exactly how many of those there were.
He also managed to figure out a few things of where he was. As
always seemed to be the case in these futuristic cities where most of
the social interaction had disappeared, at least, any social
interaction not found indoors (pubs, nightclubs, motels, etc.), he'd
found a newspaper in the side of the road. With help from it and a
Japanese dictionary he'd picked up a few months ago, he discovered the
date. Or at least the year. 2032. Somehow, he'd have thought that
things wouldn't have changed as much as they already have. However,
it _did_ confirm his worst fear.
/Yep, this is Manga, alright. Nothing else would have Japanese as
native, and a futuristic city called MegaTokyo. Which, of course,
means... first portal I see, I'm outta here!/
So far, though, despite his initial encounter which what had
appeared to be the ADPolice force - /sounds familiar... now where have
I heard that before.../ - it had been a pretty quiet day. He just
hoped it'd stay that way.
He didn't know it yet, but like so many times before, he was going
to regret ever thinking that.
--**************--
Nene was puzzled, perplexed, and very worried. It wasn't often that
had happened. As soon as the report had been filed into the central
database, Nene had gotten access to it and given herself a copy to
read.
Things started getting weird when she called up the database to
search for "Ian Robinson". She got a big negative. Trying "Robinson"
brought up 53 alternatives, but when she limited the search parameters
to allow only those who were aged under 35, it brought it down to just
12 records. Adding the parameter "above 17" brought it down to 2.
And finally, she belatedly added the parameter "male" to narrow it
down to just zero possibilities. /Damn./
Well then, it was obvious that it was a false name. From the
report, `Ian' had delivered no ID, so there was no way to tell _what_
his real name was. It was highly probable that he didn't _have_ any
identification; the usual tactic was to forge anything needed, and
then just hack the records at ADP.
Some of the other parts of the report gave her pause too. She
wished she'd been the one to interrogate the guy; Fraser didn't really
have much patience for what he didn't understand, and it showed in his
report. Mind you, hadn't Inspector Grant been haranguing him and
forcing him to help with the now ever-increasing paper influx? In any
case though, she was just a data entry clerk. She smiled; _this_ data
entry clerk was also Queen of the Net. Unofficially, of course.
Matter Transportation, huh? If scientists were that close to it,
Nene doubted that such a young kid like this `Ian' guy would have had
access to it. On his own, as he claimed. Besides, Sylia would have
heard of it. /That's an idea..../ Nene resolved to ask her about the
transportation sciences later.
It was a sign of Fraser's annoyance at the time that what he'd put
down for the guy's address was "Japan (like where else)". It would
have appeared that `Ian' lucked out in his investigation. If `Ian'
was everything he claimed to be, she would... she'd... why, she'd
attend Linna's exercise classes for an entire month. And go on a
diet.
After a few minutes more scrutinising, she decided to take a break.
/A chocolate cake would be nice,/ she thought.
A few moments after she left, her computer silently alerted the fact
of someone outside hacking into the ADP databases. Nene's hidden
tripwires were designed to inform _her_ when hacking was done; it
wasn't standard ADP security. But since Nene wasn't there, the
warning went unnoticed for the timebeing. And after about a minute,
the infiltration stopped, shutting down the alarm in the process.
Of course, activity logs are such useful things. But their
usefulness diminishes if no one actually checks them.
--**************--
Nene wasn't the only one interested in Ian's report. Far from it.
It was well known that ADP had computer security to rival an egg. At
least when it was compared to any of the many corporations that were
based in MegaTokyo.
News travelled fast. It was particularly known for its ability to
travel faster than light in some cases. Bad news sometimes travelled
even faster. The kind of bad news that had just been transferred
happened to be bad for Ian, and in Ian's experience, that was the
fastest kind of all.
"Matter Transference, you say?" Quincy was a rather imposing man.
Not really because of his physical figure. Or maybe partly because of
it. He was a middle-aged man, with greying hair, dressed in a white
suit. There was something about the way he composed himself that
was... unnerving.
Perhaps it was because he was the CEO of the biggest corporation in
MegaTokyo. A corporation that had, behind its legal and above-board
facade, been responsible for many boomer attacks on MegaTokyo. And
also had its fingers in as many pies as you could name. A
megaconglomerate, is the term given. Many said that Genom was the
driving force behind the government of MegaTokyo. They weren't far
wrong. But they were perhaps out by a continent or two.
However, some explanation is probably required about these
"boomers". Boomers were basically an artificial construct made in
humanoid appearance. Essentially, they were androids. Genom, the
corporation in question, was the major supplier of combat boomers.
These types of boomers generally looked human right up to the point
when they pulled off their skin and went completely berserk. ADP was
primarily set up to deal with the numerous boomer outbreaks in
MegaTokyo, but due to a lack of funding, they weren't having a great
deal of success with the task.
There is more to the story: how Genom stole the knowledge of
creating boomers from the scientist, Dr Katsuhito Stingray, and how
they warped his legacy into the military scheme it was now; and how Dr
Stingray's daughter, Sylia, set up the vigilante group, the Knight
Sabers, to bring down Genom and their twisted ideals. But that wasn't
important right now. What was important, was that Quincy was the CEO
of Genom, and he had recently been informed of Ian's ADPolice report.
The words "Matter Transportation" had a tendency to cause certain
corporation search engines to go berserk.
For those who haven't worked it out yet, this is _bad_.
"Yes. He claimed to be an inventor working on his own. According
to a separate report filed by the officer who was on duty that night,
there may be some truth to his claims." Kate Madigan was a very high-
level personal aide to Quincy. She had earned a great deal of
trust and respect from the old man, and unlike many of her peers, had
no personal ambitions in regard to replacing Quincy in any respect.
At least, not in the cut-throat way her colleagues envisioned.
Quincy smiled. This could be interesting. Genom was always on the
lookout for raw talent. "But?"
"His given name doesn't appear on any record in either the ADPolice
or government archives. Apparently, he produced no identification,
and the only thing we have is a physical description and some awkward
shots of him on the security camera."
The CEO raised an eyebrow. "Awkward?"
"For some reason, the cameras never got a good shot of him. Even
when he was interrogated, his back was to the camera the whole time.
He must have known about them. There's no way someone can avoid that
many security cameras so successfully. They'd have to have known
their exact positions. That, or have been extremely lucky."
/...and I don't believe in luck,/ finished Quincy for her silently.
Hmm. This wasn't very good news. It might mean that this `inventor'
was working for someone high up. Very high, if all his records could
have successfully been wiped. That was, of course, if he had given
his real name.
It was all so complicated. A high-up agent would have had a decent
cover story that would have had passed computer analysis. At the very
least, they would travel with forged ID. And generally, agents didn't
appear from nowhere inside an ADP jail. "Have you checked if there
were any important prisoners in the station at the time?"
"Yes. The ADP have been having more trouble with boomers than
actual criminals, and as such, they only had minor offenders inside
that night."
Most perplexing. Well, perhaps this `inventor' would be worth
observing. "Keep him under surveillance."
Madigan bowed, and then turned to leave.
"Wait." Quincy smiled. "Keep him alive. He may be useful."
"Do you expect there to be an attempt on his life?"
"Just observe him. But make sure he's alive when I decide to have
him brought in."
--**************--
"So this is the stuff?"
Max and his gang had followed their employer to an out-of-the-way
construction facility. Last Max had heard, this building had been
fully operational, making car parts. Now, it seemed pretty deserted,
with production halted midway. It seemed that their new friend
Chronos had been busy.
Kyle was up and walking, thankfully. Chronos had merely stunned
him. /So why couldn't he do that to Carl,/ thought Max angrily.
The silhouette turned from a worktable to face him. "Yes," it said,
in that modulated voice of Chronos's. Strange, that. Both the figure
and the voice were heavily disguised. It was even more effective than
one of those suits those Knight Sabers wore; you couldn't really tell
if the guy was male or female. Nor how well armed he was. They
already had an inkling of that anyways.
Max took a closer look at the suit on the table. It was rather
bulky; nothing like his figure at all on the outside. It was like one
of those archaic 20th Century space-suits, except more massive. He
looked at Chronos. A sweep of shadow gestured him to try it on.
It took a bit of getting used to, but once all the pieces were in
place, they snapped together and began to hum. Last, was the round,
domed helmet, with the small slit that served as the visual array. He
placed it on, and....
It was one of the most liberating experiences of his life. He felt
stronger, faster, more capable than ever before. A Head-Up-Display to
the sides of his viewscreen gave him targeting and terrain
information, while a single thought changed it to show system status.
The view seemed to be a little restricted, but it served well enough.
He lifted up the rifle that accompanied the suit and swung it around
easily. Then, he selected a car chassis as a target, and opened fire.
The results weren't as good as he'd expected. The rifle vibrated in
his hands like a berserk horse, the recoils sending many of his shots
wide. Those that _did_ hit the target though, soon left it a smoking
wreck, swinging on only one of the four chains that had held it up.
Another few shots brought it down with a crash. Max tried to fire off
another few shots, but discovered that the rifle no longer responded.
In fact, it felt fairly warm, even through the insulation in the suit.
Chronos turned towards him. "I apologise for the... imprecise
nature of your firearms. I was pressed for time, and had to make do
with the Mk I plans. Watch out for the plasma rifle overheating as
well. I'm afraid you can only use short bursts, before it gets too
hot to work. Then you have to wait for it to cool down. However,
this should be sufficient for now. Perhaps when you come back, I'll
have a couple of Mk II's ready."
The rest of Max's friends were already clambering into their own
suits after the impressive display. Max watched them for a moment,
before facing Chronos again. "You got any idea where this target of
yours is?" His voice came out very deep, in almost a monotone.
Obviously, a voice modulator was also part of the package.
The shadow shrugged. "It's been a long time. I have no idea where
my enemy could be. However, you'll find an accurate description in
the databanks. And the Chronotrooper targeting array is already set
up to recognise him. How you deal with him, is up to you. Eliminate
him, capture him, bring him to me, dead or alive. I care not, only
that he is out of the way."
Behind the helmet, Max smiled. /If I bring in this character, maybe
we can catch Chronos with his guard down. For what he did to Carl,
he'll die./
"Is it agreed, then?" asked Chronos.
"Yeah. We'll do your job."
--**************--
It was nine o'clock. The sun had just gone down below the horizon,
and the sky was darkening at a fast rate. Ian had just found the
docks, and was now impatiently searching for some warehouse he could
camp in. Something told him that he would be better off if he could
get inside. This didn't look like the type of city where you could
expect to live through a night of sleeping rough.
Actually, Ian didn't figure on getting much sleep. He'd checked his
stopwatch earlier, and worked out he'd arrived around eleven o'clock
at night. Earlier, Ian had synchronised his watch to the local time
with the help of a passer-by; he had only two hours to wait until a
portal opened. And there was little hope that Chronos hadn't been
busy. /He's probably searching for me right now,/ Ian thought
dismally.
Ian wasn't in much of a mood for a fight. He was tired, exhausted
even. Even his impromptu dreamless `slumber' had done nothing for his
state of health. He felt as worn-out then as he was now; his
exhaustion then had been the main reason he'd been unconscious for so
long.
One of the problems with the portals was that it left Ian vulnerable
to severe jetlag. In one world, it could be early morning. A leap
later, and he might find it's late afternoon. Or vice versa.
However, getting out of a world like this was a greater priority
than having a good night's sleep.
Ian stopped suddenly, and glanced around. He was _sure_ he was
being watched. It wasn't Chronos; if it had been him, he would have
shown himself far earlier. He _hoped_ it was a good guy. And then he
hoped that they knew that _he_ was a good guy. Convincing them that
usually took quite a while. Or a short battle with Chronos. Ian knew
which one _he_ preferred.
With a shrug, Ian started back on his search for a somewhat
comfortable building in which to spend the night. Maybe he was so
tired, that he was imagining things. Maybe not. At the very least,
he still had his pistol.
A few seconds after, the boomer followed.
--**************--
The targeting reticle flared red as it touched the brown-haired
young man in the dark leather jacket. Stats and information on the
target flashed up in a green box at the bottom-right hand corner of
his vision. Max couldn't believe his luck. Vernon had been the first
to spot him, alerting the others on their personal communicators.
Already, they had their target in sight. All that was needed now, was
to take him.
Admittedly, this type of ambush took a little getting used to.
Max's gang weren't used to all this hitech weaponry, or being so
spread out. Generally, most of their ambushes had been two groups
converging on both sides of an alleyway.
Louis came on the communicator. "Max, I'm gonna see if I can take
him without bruising him. Maybe we'll get more if we don't bring in
damaged goods."
Well, it was worth a shot. Might as well see what this character
was made of. "Go ahead, Louis."
--**************--
Someone was coming. That was for sure, now. Ian could hear the
heavy footsteps approaching. Slowly, Ian reached inside his jacket,
hand closing on the handle of his pistol....
"Hold it." A single deep and modulated voice. /Oh shit..../
Ian leapt to one side, rolling as he hit the ground, bringing the
gun round to bear all in one smooth movement.
Then he realised he hadn't been fired upon yet.
A Chronotrooper stepped out of the shadows of one of the warehouses,
levelling its plasma rifle at him. "You are Ian Robinson?"
Nervousness tended to make Ian sarcastic. "Nope. You must mean my
twin brother. He's on vacation in Hawaii."
"We've been hired to take you in. What do you think about that?"
"Did Chronos tell you about all the _others_?"
"Others?"
Ian smiled evilly. "Never mind," he said cheerfully.
The Chronotrooper shouldered its weapon, and moved into a more
threatening posture. "I don't think I need this. You look like
someone I could take easily." The helmet moved slightly as it glanced
at Ian's weapon. "We've already seen what bullets do to these suits."
"Oh, so Chronos _hasn't_ told you about the others then. Think you
know everything about that suit you're wearing?"
The suit took a step towards him. "I think you're bluffing."
"Hang on," replied Ian, "before you charge me, tell me something.
Are you just some gang that Chronos picked off the street?"
A couple of shots later had the suddenly charging Chronotrooper on
the floor, looking down at its cracked leg armour. "Guess so,"
quipped Ian.
And then all hell broke loose.
--**************--
/SHIT,/ Ian almost yelled, as he dove behind a stack of gas
canisters. A couple of plasma bolts slammed into them, causing metal
to sizzle and singeing a couple of his hairs, but most were way off
mark. After a few seconds of fire, the sounds died off as the rifles
began to overheat, and everyone watched to see what was left.
Ian spent his first uninterrupted second blessing his quick
reflexes, and then the second second in quiet shock as he realised
exactly what his cover was composed of, and that the bolts had crashed
into his aforementioned cover. The third second was spent silently
thanking specific deities that the barrels hadn't been full.
As soon as Ian caught his breath, he got into a crouch position.
And then he raced for another bit of cover.
--**************--
When Louis went down, the feeling of invulnerability disappeared
from every one of the gang. Then, they all opened fire. Louis was
still alive, but whatever that guy was carrying, it had blasted a hole
through the suit, severely damaging Louis's leg.
However, they still hadn't gotten used to the way the rifle
recoiled, so most never had a chance of hitting the guy. The sheer
amount of firepower more than made up for it, and had their target
diving for cover.
After a while, heat began to pour from the rifles, and the automatic
cut-off stopped all fire. They watched to see what would come out of
there alive. A single barrel, blackened from the fire, swayed and
then toppled over with a bang.
Vernon was the first to spot Ian running out from behind the oil
drums. The guy was coming straight towards the building he was on; it
would be an easy shot, despite the uselessness of the plasma rifle as
a sniper's weapon. Vernon aimed, and tightened his finger on the
trigger. He watched as Ian got closer, waiting for just the right
moment....
Cold metal brushed Vernon's neck as something punched through his
helmet as easily as a Mack truck through a roadblock. It tightened.
Vernon screamed.
--**************--
Those who had begun to fire upon the fleeing Ian stopped
immediately. Even Ian himself stopped in his tracks. On top of the
building he had been rushing to, some sort of mechanical android was
crushing the life out of a Chronotrooper. The modulated voice of the
suit made the screams take on a whole new dimension.
The boomer turned its head to face Ian. Its eyes glowed with an
evil red glint.
Ian fled. The other way.
--**************--
Vernon's screams echoed across the communicators. For a moment, all
the others could do was look on as their friend was held by the neck,
clutching at the boomer's arm. Unlike Ian, they knew exactly what
they were facing.
They opened fire on the boomer. And then the boomer opened fire on
them.
Unnoticed, an helicopter circled the area high above, watching the
laser display in the dock district.
--**************--
"Ah, Nene, you're just in time."
Sylia motioned the young woman in quickly, and shut the door behind
her.
"We just intercepted an ADP transmission. Seems there's some sort
of confrontation going on in the dock district. We're going to check
it out. Linna should be here in a couple of minutes, and Priss is
already in the KnightWing."
Nene sighed. She'd had to leave work late, having been snowed under
with work almost as soon as she'd come back from her break. She'd
been surprised that nothing had been said about the report, but she
put it down to the sudden influx of paperwork that had overcome ADP.
As everyone knew, there was to be a review of ADP's weapons budget,
and so all the businessmen who were in charge of the money wanted to
know whether ADP actually needed so much of it. As if they knew what
it took to take down a single boomer. The fact that boomer activity
had been down lately made the current outlook bad.
In any case, Nene had been hoping to ask Sylia what she knew about
this transportation stuff that the guy they'd let go earlier had used
as an excuse. Instead, it looked like she'd have to come along to
check out yet another disturbance. It was rather strange, when she
thought about it. The first boomer rampage in weeks. Well, all good
things had to come to an end.
"Okay," Nene replied. "I'll meet you on the launch pad."
--**************--
"Why now?" Ian asked no one in particular as he ran from the
firefight. People, much less Chronotroopers, had no business being
that well armed. A glance at his watch confirmed it; he had over one
and a half hours to keep away from the enemy behind him; he hoped to
get as far away from them as possible before they wised up and started
chasing him again.
All of a sudden, he ran out of pier. He realised he hadn't been
paying attention on where he was going, focusing more on what he was
running away _from_, rather than where he was running _to_. /Well,
guess I better back up a..../
"Got you." The voice was deep. And modulated.
He had already half-turned when he noticed the large silhouette at
the other end of the jetty. Nervously, he backed away until he felt
the end of the pier underneath his feet.
"Uh," he said wittily. The shadow brought to bear a large weapon,
which Ian recognised as the Mk I plasma rifle, standard armament for
the Chronotrooper. Not very good at hitting a target, but powerful
enough to rip armour to shreds. Ian was wearing a brown leather
jacket, hanging open. Underneath it, was a white T-shirt. Under
that, Ian was wearing nothing.
It occurred to Ian that he wasn't going to get very far saying witty
things like `uh' or `er', so he took one more step back, and dropped
out of view as plasma bolts blazed overhead.
Cold water hit him like hammer on an anvil.
--**************--
End Chapter 2
-
----------------------------------------------------------------------
-
CHAPTER 3 - Ride Of The Knight Sabers
Ian was _not_ having a good day. It had started off alright, except
for a brief encounter with an iron bar belonging to a jail cell, and a
slightly longer encounter spent infuriating a police detective with
Technospeak. _Apart_ from that, it had been a glorious day.
Reasonably warm, not too hot, or cold, but most of all, _quiet_. No
one shooting at him, or chasing him. Sure, some guys had given him
some funny looks, or maybe even glared, but up until thirty-five
minutes ago, his life had not been in even the slightest bit of
danger.
Now he was five feet underwater, attempting to avoid plasma bolts
shot from a Chronotrooper who was standing on a jetty just above him.
On top of all that, his ankle had started hurting.
/Well,/ he thought as he fought to hold his breath, /we know a way
out of this, don't we..../
He surfaced under the jetty, presented his firearm to bear, aiming
up through the floor, and pulled the trigger....
There was a loud, distinct click, followed by a loud, distinct
silence.
After a few moments, heavy footsteps were heard above, and then the
nozzle of a plasma rifle was shoved through the rotten wood, aimed
directly for Ian's head. "Too late," said the modulated voice.
And _then_ Ian's pistol went off.
--**************--
It was only of minor importance that Ian Robinson had managed to
escape their immediate attention. The main thing that was occupying
Max's attention was the C-55 series boomer that had systematically
tore apart Vernon before any of them had spotted it. Funny, that.
Max had always imagined they made more _noise_ when they were on a
rampage....
It really wasn't the time or the place to test the Chronotrooper's
capabilities, but Max had lost another of his gang, and this time,
someone was going to pay for it.
Despite the fact that the boomer had tore apart Vernon like a can
opener, most of its energy weapons had little effect on the hardsuits.
The plasma rifles, however, _were_ having an effect on _it_. When
they hit the target, of course.
There wasn't even any response from Vernon's hardsuit anymore. It
didn't even register on his sensors. Admittedly, most of the bolts
targeted at the boomer had punched through the broken hardsuit
instead, but Vernon was too far gone to feel it.
Just as it seemed that the boomer was going to collapse, it stopped
firing. The blistering heat from phased energy fire stopped playing
on Max's suit. The C-55 absorbed a few more plasma bolts, before
abruptly turning and disappearing off the other side of the building.
Hardly like a rampage, at all. The guys kept on firing at the space
where it had been for a few seconds, before the singularly astounding
event sunk in.
Max had just a few seconds to ponder over the boomer's change of
tactics, before yet another scream echoed over the comm.
--**************--
Pulsed laser bolts are nothing like plasma. Pure laser light
travels at the speed of light, because it is made from pure energy.
However, the effect of pulsing, at least the way pulse-lasers do it,
not only make the laser fire come out in short bursts, it also has the
effect of lending it a _mass_. This, obviously, slows down the bolts,
but only slightly. You basically end up with a small mass travelling
at a colossal velocity, equalling very high momentum and a tremendous
amount of kinetic energy. To put it simply, it packed a punch. In a
relatively small area.
Plasma, on the other hand, is merely super-heated balls of gas, that
can simply burn right through armour. They hang around just long
enough to do serious damage, in addition to the force from the
projectile itself. Being balls of gas, they had trouble moving
through different mediums, were generally absorbed by water, and also
had a tendency to explode upon contact with certain fuels. But the
main thing about plasma is that it's hot. The type of `hot' that
causes liquid nitrogen to just give up and go away.
However, despite the pulse laser being lighter and far less damaging
by itself than plasma bolts, it does have one feature that, if used
carefully, gives it a slight advantage over the heavier weapon.
Because pulse lasers are made out of light, they are affected by the
same laws as normal light; reflection, refraction, etc. In the hands
of an expert, this ability can prove to be particularly lethal. Of
course, sometimes it is difficult to distinguish between an expert and
someone who suffers from dumb luck.
The visual array of the Chronotrooper suit is like one giant lens.
The tiny slit takes light coming from all directions and focuses it
into each eye, giving as wide a view as possible while keeping
weaknesses down to a minimal.
It is generally accepted that laser light focused into the human eye
is a _bad_ thing.
--**************--
When Ian pulled the trigger, he failed to take into consideration
exactly what effects water might have on a laser pistol. This is
primarily because Ian spent more time swimming _away_ from danger than
actually considering using it as a form of sneak attack.
The pulse-laser pistol is, on the outside at least, waterproof.
However, as the gun was fired, water was in the firing chamber. Since
water is both a superb conductor as well as a refractor of light, it
was very likely that it would have played havoc with the system. This
could have had several possible effects; most of them though are
generally unpleasant, and typically involve the gun exploding, or
laser fire streaking out the back of the pistol and into Ian's chest.
However, all that happened was that the charge was delayed. What
was happening was that the focus of the chamber was off, so the charge
was bouncing around, building up, looking for an escape....
Ian, staring death in the face, too petrified by the threat of his
demise to do anything, watched in stunned horror as light exploded
from the barrel of his pistol, punching through the pier to reveal the
startled visage of a Chronotrooper. The pulse continued inexorably,
streaking up into the narrow slit of the Chronotrooper's helmet.
Fortunately, Ian retrieved his scattered wits quickly enough to make
use of this fluke occurrence, and was gone long before the
Chronotrooper's agonised cries brought help.
--**************--
Overhead, the moon was briefly eclipsed by a dark shape darting
past.
"Sis? I think I've got it. A C-55 combat boomer in the eastern
dock district. Looks like it's damaged or something. Odd...."
"What?" asked Sylia.
"It doesn't seem to be causing a whole lot of devastation," came
Mackie's voice from the cockpit. Piloting the KnightWing was
generally left up to him. "And there's no sign...."
"Sylia?" interrupted Nene, "I'm picking up local radio transmissions
down there. It's not a data channel either, nor ADP transmissions."
"Priss, you and Linna check out the boomer. See what it's up to
before you take it down. Nene, you come with me. We're going to find
out what's going on down there."
The bay doors opened, revealing the cityscape below. All four of
them approached the opening, and prepared to....
"Knight Sabers... SANJO!"
--**************--
Twenty to ten. Within forty minutes, Ian's situation had changed
from "cheerfully searching for a place to crash" to "running for his
life, filled with terror", as so often happened. Which still left
about another hour before a chance of a temporary respite from
concentrating on self-preservation.
However, occupying Ian's mind at the moment was tactics. He knew
that luck wouldn't see him through this alone, (that is, he wasn't
sure, but he didn't want to push his already miraculous fortune,) so
he was going to have to think up some sort of plan to keep himself
alive.
/Last time I ran, I didn't bothered thinking about _where_ I was
running to. And that almost got my head blown off. Well, this time,
I'm not going to be caught out so easily./
What he needed was somewhere where he could blend in, just _slip_
out of sight. The dock district may have been a good place to find
somewhere quiet to rest, but it was not ideally suited for hiding out
in. If anything, a person in the dock district at night stood out
like a sore thumb.
In the end, it was little or no choice. Not having a map of Tokyo
handy, and not knowing really where the best place to go was, Ian
simply headed into town.
--**************--
"So now where is he?"
"I didn't see him, Max... the bastard got me good...."
Max cursed under his breath. Vernon was dead, his neck ripped to
shreds. Louis was limping after being shot in the leg, and now Jools
was whimpering in pain, blinded. That left six of them still able to
continue, including Max. And there was still that boomer around. It
may have been badly damaged, but some of its weapons systems had still
been operational when it left.
"Hey, Max, look." Louis pointed back towards the warehouses where
their ill-fated battle with the C-55 had taken place. Moonlight
gleaming on metal picked out two shapes descending towards their
battlefield. Their scanners listed the objects as unknowns. Max had
a sinking feeling about this.
"Louis, you stay with Jools and get him back to the factory.
Chronos owes us for this. Gos, Ryu, you find out what those things
are. Make sure you keep them away from us as long as you can. Rest
of you, you're with me."
The eight of them split up into their various groups and left the
jetty in silence.
--**************--
"Sis, just picked up some ADP patrol vehicles. They're coming near
your position. I give them about five minutes before they join the
party."
"Thanks, Mackie. Nene's just picked up some newcomers herself.
Keep us updated on that boomer."
"Right, sis."
--**************--
The `battlefield' was basically a small area of concrete surrounded
by various buildings. Stacked near the centre were a few melted oil
drums. In fact, most of the area was pockmarked with small craters
and black scorch marks from lasers. There hadn't been any major
structural damage, fortunately.
"Sylia? Take a look at this." Nene was on top of one of the
surrounding warehouses, looking at some sort of white suit. Sylia
gave a blast from her jets to join her for a closer look.
The hardsuit was like nothing they'd seen before. It was big, more
like some sort of exoskeleton; but all the necessary electronics and
mechanisms had been installed, including rudimentary communications
and scanning equipment. It wasn't quite top notch, but it was pretty
close.
However, it was mangled beyond recognition. From what they could
tell, there was someone still inside. Dead, though. It had happened
recently; Nene could still get a good thermal reading from the corpse.
"Take a few samples to test," ordered Sylia. "We'll analyse it when
we get back, and leave the rest for ADP to pick up." Nene nodded, and
set to work. Sylia then made her way to the other end of the roof to
await the company.
She didn't have long to wait. Before long, two more of the strange
white suits walked out from behind a building and marched towards
them. As they got into what Sylia assumed was firing range, they
levelled their black rifles up towards where she was crouching, and
waited patiently. A very low-pitched modulated voice came from one of
them: "You there. Come on out where we can see ya."
Sylia stood up, revealing herself. She could almost sense the wave
of shock going through the two suits. They were human, that was for
sure; the suits were just that.
"Oh shit, the Knight Sabers!" To them, she was just a female in an
stylised white hardsuit; one quarter of the vigilante group dedicated
to bringing down Genom. They had already seen two of their friends
killed by various factions in MegaTokyo, one of them being their own
employer. Another two had been badly injured, both by the target they
had been sent to catch or kill. At this point, they didn't even want
to know what the Knight Sabers intended to do with them.
Without warning, they opened fire.
--**************--
As the first shot streaked up through the air, Nene jerked her head
up to see what had happened. On the other side of the roof, Sylia was
dodging white hot plasma rounds, occasionally firing off her own 10mm
at her attackers.
Finishing collecting the samples she wanted, the pink suited Knight
Saber rushed over towards Sylia. "What's happening?" she asked over
the comm.
As soon as Sylia saw Nene was finished, she backed away from the
edge, retreating near the computer expert. "Trouble. From an unknown
source. I haven't seen suit specifications like that _anywhere_.
It's going to be tough to close in with them."
Nene nodded. Then her comm system picked up an incoming message.
"Sylia, you got to come see this."
"What is it," answered Sylia. Linna sounded worried. Or was it
surprise? Either was odd with the normally cheerful gymnast.
"We've found the boomer. Lucky for us, it hasn't found _us_ yet.
It seems to be stalking some guy. Oh, and we just picked up four
unknowns moving after him as well. It's getting crowded here, that's
for sure. It's moving towards the western districts."
"Ok," Sylia replied. "We'll be with you in a couple of minutes."
"We're just going to leave those guys?" asked Nene, gesturing to the
two huge hardsuits backing away from the building, trying to get a
clear shot at the Knight Sabers, as well as waiting for their firearms
to cool down.
Sylia listened to the rising noise of sirens, and the drone of ADP
helicopters. "I think they'll be taken care of."
--**************--
Twenty-five past ten. Actually, the stopwatch gave him thirty-two
minutes to go, but he was still walking at a leisurely pace, away from
the docks. Ian could run fast when the situation demanded it, but
there was no way he would be able to keep that pace for another thirty
minutes. Either way, Ian wondered whether he'd lost those
Chronotroopers yet.
At least the climate was still warm enough to help dry him out. Of
course, he could still feel water sloshing around in his boots, and
he'd had to turn out his pockets to drain them. But although his pack
had also suffered, Ian had wisely taken the precaution of protecting
certain valuables (wallet, currencies, food, aspirin) in waterproof
plastic containers. He'd learnt from experience. A little wipe and
they were fine, at least after he'd emptied the half gallon of water
that had collected in his pack. Anyhow, he wasn't nearly as wet as he
had been. Which was fortunate, because we was beginning to enter the
busier districts. What Ian had miscalculated on, though, was exactly
_which_ district he was heading into.
Every city has a part like this. In modern-day Tokyo, it was
Shinjuku; in Ankh-Morpork, it was the Shades; in New York, it was
Harlem. You get the idea. No matter where you go, there's always
somewhere that has a bad reputation, a place where you don't go when
it gets dark. Sometimes you don't even bother going when it's light
either. These places are usually filled with unsavoury types,
prowling the street doing unspeakable things, that most innocent
citizens would care to forget about.
That isn't really true in practice, or even in most stories. Except
perhaps Ankh-Morpork. However, all places have their bad areas, and
this was one of them.
It doesn't really matter what the name of the place _is_. Actually,
for the completists out there, it was still named Shinjuku. Perhaps
it was not _the_ Shinjuku; but sometimes places with bad reputations
sometimes get names with bad reputations. In any case, it only
matters that it exists.
Ian passed through the imaginary border that separated the empty
dock districts from the inner districts.
He didn't notice anyone in particular. But people noticed _him_.
--**************--
"We have to go in _there_?"
"Aw, come on Linna. Where's your sense of adventure? All we gotta
do is catch up with the boomer and trash it. And find out why the
hell it's following that guy," she added as an afterthought.
"It's probably doing it because it's not a normal C-55."
"Huh?"
Nene and Sylia touched down beside their friends, onto the roof of a
rather dilapidated building. They looked out over the western core of
the city, their scanners pinpointing the boomer easily as it made its
way deeper into the Shinjuku district.
"I said, it's not a normal C-55," continued Nene.
"What do you mean about that?" Priss asked, a little confused.
Nene sighed. "It's sending a constant data transmission to a
listening station on the outskirts of MegaTokyo. It's heavily
encoded, and I can't decode it quickly enough to intercept exactly
what they're getting. I'm recording it at the moment so I can analyse
it when we get back. I think it's an observer. I don't know _who_
it's observing though."
"Nene's also collected a sample of a new type of hardsuit," Sylia
chipped in. "I think those are the four unknowns following the boomer
in."
"A new type of hardsuit?" echoed Priss a little disbelievingly.
"What, ADP finally got some funding?"
"It's not much of a laughing matter, I assure you," countered their
stern leader. "They don't appear to be affiliated with any of the
known groups, and they appear to have heavy firearms."
"But they're not really as versatile as us," chimed Nene. "They've
only got one weapon, and that's only a middle range rifle. And they
can't shoot straight either."
"Sis? Got something you might want to hear."
They all quietened down as Sylia asked Mackie to continue.
"Looks like that C-55's been spotted. ADPolice is bringing up a
perimeter around the Shinjuku district. They're also flying in some
choppers to conduct surveillance. I can't hang around here much
longer; I think they already suspect that we've got some air presence
here. I'm going back to base. I'll meet you there, ok?"
"Ok, Mackie." She shut down the communications channel, and then
turned to look at the others.
"I think we better find out what's so important about this guy.
Will you two be able to recognise him?" she asked Linna and Priss.
"Sure," came Priss's answer. "I'd recognise a drowned rat like him
anytime."
"Drowned rat?" inquired Sylia.
"Don't ask," Linna replied, grinning behind her visor.
--**************--
End Chapter 3
-
----------------------------------------------------------------------
-
CHAPTER 4 - Hot In The City Tonight
In what passed for a mind in the boomer, electronic pathways carried
different thoughts as the boomer `pondered' various things. For
instance, its current mission. Its `charge' appeared to be a complete
unknown, and not very skilled in survival techniques either. Yet for
some reason, he was important to the boomer's masters.
Its orders had been _very_ specific; observe this man, and protect
him from getting killed. The boomer didn't know _why_; it didn't
_need_ to know. It had also been told to expect orders to bring him
in. The boomer didn't foresee much of a problem in that.
The surveillance had been rather profitable though. It had seen a
new, unknown type of hardsuit that hadn't registered in its database;
it had had to create a completely new entry for it. It had also got
some detailed combat info, at the cost of some of its own structural
integrity. And at the cost of its cover.
The boomer suspected that it would be attacked very soon now. It
had been discovered only a few minutes ago, and already its enhanced
audio senses were picking up and identifying sirens and the drone of
helicopters. Maybe if it was lucky, it would have a chance to
complete its secondary objective: destroying any targets of
opportunity.
A Knight Saber would fit perfectly into that category.
In some crude way, the boomer was looking forward to the next thirty
minutes.
--**************--
Ian was nervous. Very nervous. The atmosphere in this place was
palpable, and it was rife with tension. He was _sure_ he was being
watched.
He still had twenty-five minutes to waste.
The people around here seemed different to those he'd noticed around
ADP headquarters. Far more alert, for one thing. Everyone looking
out for themselves.
/Next time,/ Ian thought, /I'll get a map./
--**************--
Max sighed. Up ahead, just visible, a group of police cars had set
up a roadblock. Something was going on, and Max would have bet ten
dollars that it had something to do with that boomer they saw.
"How do we get through that, Max?" asked Ford. He sounded nervous,
but then, he always was.
"We don't," Max replied. "We bust through them, we're going to have
ADP down on us like a ton of bricks. We've lost too many tonight.
And I've never lost one of mine before."
"So what do we do now?"
"I guess we go back to Chronos. As I said, he owes us for what we
went through tonight."
The gang weren't entirely impressed with that idea. They'd had
enough of Chronos for their entire lives. Max noticed this.
"It can't be helped. I want that bugger dead, and the only way
we're going to get a chance of doing that is to do his dirty work."
"What," Ford asked nervously, "you mean, sorta distract him?"
Max smiled. "Maybe. Thing is, he looks like the type to gloat.
And buggers like that only gloat when they've got their enemy in front
of them."
He looked past the barricade deep into Shinjuku. "Next time, Ian."
--**************--
Leon McNichol, inspector for the ADPolice, pulled up just outside
the Shinjuku district. Climbing out of the car, he approached the
cordoned off area.
"What's going on?" he asked the nearest police officer.
"Rogue boomer in the Shinjuku district. Got a report that it's
stalking someone, so we're keeping anyone from coming in. We're
trying to find it by chopper."
"Fine," Leon replied. "Pull back some of the cars; Daley and I are
going in. I want to see this boomer for myself."
"But sir...."
"Just do it. And get some backup in there. I'd like to get that
boomer _before_ it goes crazy."
"Yes sir."
--**************--
Ian started to worry when he noticed that a number of people were
leaving the area he had just entered. Everyone seemed to be vanishing
into the woodwork.
He started to worry more when he noticed that there were some people
who _hadn't_ vanished. They were looking nonchalantly at him.
Ian slowed down his pace, and came to a stop. He took a step back,
and turned.
He didn't get very far. In fact, right behind him, he found a
large, well-muscled torso. It was wearing a black T-shirt with a
burning skull on it. He looked up. About a foot above him was a
bearded face, grinning down at him. This was impressive, since Ian
himself was around 5'9".
He wondered if they could hear him swallow.
As he backed away from the guy, he became vaguely aware of a ring of
similar people surrounding him.
He wondered what would happen if he drew his pistol.
The unmistakable click of a gun being cocked answered his question.
"Uh, hi guys," he managed weakly. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm
kind of running away at the moment, so I really shouldn't...."
"Stay right where you are," came a low voice behind him. Ian
stopped backing away and groaned. The voice was feminine.
Ian turned without haste, occupying his mind with various curses
about female gang leaders.
This female gang leader in question had jet black hair, which
perfectly matched her jet black outfit. Black boots paired it off;
amazingly, they _didn't_ have high heels. Ian wondered who it was who
had started this fashion trend, if only so that he could do the entire
industry a favour and kill the little bugger.
She was handling a knife in her right hand, turning it over as if
contemplating what to do with it. However, her eyes were fixed firmly
on him.
"Would it help if I said I surrender," ventured Ian, wondering
whether Fate had another nasty surprise for him.
"No," she replied flippantly. "Not really."
"Are you going to tell me what you want?"
She smiled. It was not a nice smile. "I suppose I could grant that
as a last request."
/Oh,/ Ian mouthed.
"Living on the streets is tough," she resumed, "wouldn't you agree?
We have to find a way to make ends meet. I'm sure we can find some
interesting stuff on you, especially with you carrying that big heavy
pack on your back."
He licked his lips. "Um, how about I just _give_ you my pack."
"Oh, you'll give it to us alright. Just not the way _you_ mean it."
/Ah,/ thought Ian in understanding. "I suppose there's no use in me
trying to make a run for it, then."
The man standing to her right brandished what looked like an assault
rifle. Ian's heart sank. It was times like this where he _really_
missed his shield generator.
"Now," continued the leader pleasantly, "if you'll just...."
There was a scream from behind and to the left of Ian. /Not
again..../
Even so, as soon as they were distracted, Ian darted through a gap
to his right, drawing his gun in the process.
He was not obstructed. His potential muggers had greater problems.
A boomer had just ripped one of their heads off.
--**************--
Ian fled down the main street, not looking back. One reason not to
was wind resistance, and the importance of watching where you were
going. The other was that Ian was sure it would not be a nice view.
The ADPolice car pulling up in front of him changed his mind. He'd
had enough of those guys for one day, and he really didn't want to
have to explain what he was doing here.
He turned and ran the other way. Only to find the boomer finishing
off the last of the gang who hadn't been quick enough to get away. It
gazed at him with its red baleful eyes.
Behind him, the two detectives had vacated the police vehicle, and
were drawing their weapons, watching the boomer over the car roof.
It hadn't yet occurred to Ian that if a fight broke out between the
boomer and the police officers, he would be in the line of fire.
In metaphorical terms, the match was hovering over the fuel.
And from the sky, four females in hardsuits came to light it.
--**************--
Behind his car, Leon looked at the bloody mess the boomer had
caused. Despite the fact that the boomer had just effectively
dispersed a gang MegaTokyo Police badly wanted dealt with, it had
killed to do it. In a very sadistic manner. There was no way ADP was
going to delay this any longer. Not if he had anything to say about
it.
He wondered a little about the guy just in front of him, looking
like a trapped rat. Why didn't he just run towards the police line?
What was stopping him? Was he scared of ADP? Why wouldn't he get out
of his bloody line of sight?!
All answers were academic as four hardsuits flew down to engage the
boomer.
Leon's partner, Daley Wong, cried out. "It's the Knight Sabers!"
--**************--
"It's the Knight Sabers!"
/Who?/ Ian looked up as four coloured suits flashed by and landed
between him and the boomer. /Knight Sabers? Who the hell are..../
And then it happened. That feeling he got every time he
successfully identified which book he'd landed in. Sometimes it was a
feeling of elation, sometimes one of thankfulness, sometimes even one
of depression. This time, it was one of sickness.
The Knight Sabers. Four vigilantes fighting robots in the near
future. Ian wasn't a fanatic about manga, but he'd been introduced to
it well enough to finally recognise "Bubblegum Crisis".
Megacorporations battling for control. Individuals became pawns for
use. On a piece of paper somewhere, Ian had said he was a scientist
working on Matter Transportation. He now thought he had an inkling on
just why so many people were after him.
The realisation just made getting out of here a more urgent
objective.
--**************--
"It's the Knight Sabers!"
The boomer watched as four different coloured hardsuits touched down
before it - white, pink, blue and green.
Boomers, theoretically, shouldn't have emotional feelings.
Even so, this boomer seemed significantly more cheerful.
Weapons spun out and engaged themselves as various orifices and
armaments revealed themselves. There was a pause as some of the
weapons began to glow, powering up.
Barely twenty feet down the road, Ian fervently wished he was
somewhere else.
--**************--
As the Knight Sabers closed in to attack, the boomer fired every bit
of arsenal it had. Most were way off mark; the boomer's targeting
systems had been one of the damaged modules. Some were dodged as the
agile vigilantes side-stepped, rolled and generally worked to avoid
the projectiles. The rest were unfortunate enough to be turned by the
powered armour.
Behind them, Ian merely threw himself at the ground and put both
hands on his head, wincing as explosive ammunition hammered the ground
around him.
Further back, Leon and Daley ran from their car as a stray missile
turned it into a fireball.
The pink hardsuit launched itself towards a nearby building; Nene
was here only to observe. In the white hardsuit, Sylia also backed
off; although she was immensely capable of hand-to-hand combat, she
also wanted to be able to observe the boomer. For some reason, it had
been adapted for surveillance. Sylia wanted to know why.
On the other hand, the remaining Knight Sabers charged right at the
C-55; Linna with her monomolecular streamers and knuckle bombers, and
Priss a second behind with her railgun.
The boomer rose to meet them, with its fists; although it normally
needed no other weapons, there was a faint hum of energy firearms
charging up in the background.
They clashed.
--**************--
A sudden beeping brought Ian out of his startled shock. His gaze
swung around to his left wrist, where his digital watch flashed
00:00:00. Almost immediately, a flash of blue light appeared, fading
to reveal a fiery portal on the other side of the street.
Now, he had a choice. Either stay here and be picked up by the ADP,
the Knight Sabers, Chronos or any number of corporations who could be
controlling that boomer who had been tailing him.
Or he could run twenty feet of battleground through which bullets,
lasers and about a half-ton worth of powered armour were freely flying
around in, and escape into an unknown world with unknown dangers.
In Ian's mind, it was no choice.
Perceived dangers are always more terrifying than the unknown.
--**************--
Leon inched back to the still burning wreck that had once been his
car. The chief would _not_ be pleased; he'd probably chew him out for
taking the car into a warzone in the first place. /Well,/ he thought,
/at least the Knight Sabers got here _before_ the ADP made a fool out
of themselves./
As far as he could tell, it was going badly for the boomer; one of
its arms had been amputated by the green hardsuit's streamers, and the
boomer was currently directing all its firepower in keeping it away,
leaving it open for attack from the blue-coloured hardsuit.
He was about to draw back when he noticed someone running out into
the battlezone. The `trapped rat' from before. /Is he crazy?/ Leon,
against his better inclinations, moved forward to watch the
proceedings.
--**************--
Despite the thrill and exhilaration she got when fighting boomers,
Priss was quickly getting bored with this game. The boomer just
wasn't fun at all; despite being almost loaded down with weapons of
varying type and description, it just didn't seem... competent enough.
She'd tried getting its attention with a couple of near misses, as
well as shooting some of its weapons off; but it just wasn't good
enough.
It could hardly keep up with _one_ opponent; it was pouring all it
had in keeping Linna away, leaving nothing for herself to dodge. It
was getting old, fast. Priss decided to call it a day, aimed her
right arm straight at it, and activated the railgun.
The line of fire had been clear all the way to the boomer when she
fired. Until Ian crossed it.
--**************--
It wasn't winning. It knew that as a cold fact. It also knew that
it wasn't _designed_ to win under these conditions.
It detected rather than heard the railgun firing. It estimated that
a direct hit would cause critical damage to power systems, effectively
causing total shutdown.
And then it detected Ian's presence in the line of fire.
Destroying targets of opportunity was only its secondary objective.
Its primary objective was to follow and watch this man. And protect
him at all costs.
--**************--
Ian heard something, a series of gunshots like machine gun fire,
maybe. He completely ignored it; he was focusing on the portal of
bluefire only ten feet away. Almost close enough to touch.
It was only a couple of milliseconds later, but he found it hard to
ignore two-hundred kilos worth of boomer pushing him to the ground.
--**************--
Nene was in shock. This may have been partly due to the fact that
this was the first time she'd ever seen a boomer _save_ someone. A
renegade combat boomer, to be precise.
However, the reason Nene was in shock was not so much to do with the
boomer, but more to do with the man whom the boomer had saved. The
same man Nene had seen walk out of ADP headquarters not seven hours
ago.
She slowly came out of her startlement. /Where does he fit into all
this?/
--**************--
Ian's first reaction was intense petrifying fear; an emotion he
usually underwent when he thought he was going to die.
The fact he was still alive a few seconds later therefore came as a
surprise for him; a nice surprise, which was a rare thing in Ian's
experience.
He slowly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, and looked
around for what pushed him.
The two Knight Sabers were not looking at him; they were watching in
amazement at the frozen boomer just behind him. Ian almost yelped as
he hurriedly backed away.
He was in no danger. The boomer looked slowly down at its chest, at
the railgun spikes firmly embedded there. Then it turned its gaze to
Ian. Its eyes seemed to glow brighter for a moment, and then, ever so
slowly, it collapsed.
Ian got to his feet hesitantly, still backing away from the fallen
boomer. From the looks of it, the Knight Sabers had just saved his
life. But then, they'd want to know why it was chasing him in the
first place. And then, when they were gone, the ADP would probably
bring him in for their own questioning.
Ian took a frightened glance at both Knight Sabers, and then, on
impulse, looked up at the pink Knight Saber that seemed to be
examining him intensely.
He needed no other encouragement; he turned and ran straight into
the portal.
--**************--
The boomer was almost dead; it had taken the spikes deep in the
chest, irreparably damaging vital systems. It wasn't even fighting
back, and in its eyes, the light was dimming.
But where had `Ian' gone? And why had the boomer saved him? `Ian'
had simply vanished from the battlescene; one moment he had been
running, the next he was gone. He had obviously been running _to_
something; the way he had sprinted _across_ the battlefield, rather
than away from it, rang too true to idiocy for there to be no reason.
Could he have "Matter Transported" out of there? Nene doubted it.
Even though her sensors had picked up some sort of electrical burst
when he disappeared, there was no _way_ he could have created a device
small enough to be hidden on him. And the burst had been centred on
him; there had been no outside source.
Why had he looked up at her just before he disappeared? He had
seemed frightened of something. Frightened of what?
Who was he working for? And what was this new faction all about?
Nene foresaw a lot of work ahead of her analysing the scraps she'd
found. As well as all the data she'd intercepted from the
surveillance boomer.
She resolved to answer those unanswered questions later. The guy
would turn up somewhere. Nene was sure of it.
--**************--
Blue light, swirling around. All kinds of tints could be seen in
the tunnel that took Ian speeding from one book to the next; if you
could focus on them. The speed at which everything was going made it
become a collage of different blues, until it all mixed together to
form some kind of white.
As always, Ian could feel the acceleration as he just kept on going
faster. The force on him was incredible; Ian wondered if he ever
passed out during these trips.
At that kind of velocity, spotting the light at the end of the
tunnel just wasn't possible. But Ian knew it was there. Any second
now....
--**************--
End Chapter 4
--**************--
PREVIEW
DAY 2
Ian ran full pelt out of the portal, none the worse for wear from
his experience, and skidded to a halt within a large shopping
precinct. With badly hidden frustration, he noticed that the signs
were still in Japanese, but fortunately, it seemed, he was back in the
present day. By the light streaming in from outside, it was early
afternoon. A clock on the other side of the building confirmed it.
It was a little odd, that the portal had brought him inside a mall,
when he had just escaped from the streets.
What was definitely strange, were the amount of people lying on the
floor, seeming... drained, somehow.
And the eight-foot tall monster with the really sharp claws that was
moving around the place laughing as people collapsed around it. It
was standing in a similar place relative to Ian that the boomer had
been. /Oh, so instead of sending me to similar surroundings, it
bloody well sends me to similar circumstances..../ And this time,
there were no Knight Sabers.
Without thinking twice, Ian started to back slowly away from it,
hoping it wouldn't notice him.
He was out of luck. It spun to face him the moment he moved.
Almost out of instinct, Ian whipped out his pistol, aiming in the
monster's general direction and succeeded in blasting it several times
in the chest. The barrage seemed to cause it immense pain, but to
Ian's dismay, it was still moving when the pistol decharged.
/Aw man..../ Ian hurriedly leapt behind a potted plant as the
monster started to flick energy bolts at _him_. He set to work,
feverishly rifling through his belongings searching for....
Ian sprawled on the floor as one of the bolts exploded near his
back. Fortunately, the pot plant had absorbed the main brunt of the
blast, but Ian realised now that perhaps more solid cover would be
marginally safer. He dove behind a bench, narrowly missing being
fried a second time.
He finally retrieved the portable generator - a small humming cube-
like device - which he then proceeded to connect to the pistol's
handle. There was a click and a hum as the two connected.
Meanwhile, he was vaguely aware of the monster stalking him from the
other side of the stall he had now chosen as his new piece of cover.
Hearing a droning sound slowly rising in pitch, Ian sped to the next
possible shelter as the stall was vaporised by another energy bolt.
/Come on, come on!/ he thought urgently to the generator, hoping
that his willpower would somehow speed up the process. He was
rewarded by a short series of beeps, signalling the end of the
recharge. Not even bothering to disconnect the generator, Ian doubled
back, ready to face his adversary.
He dodged out of cover just in time to see that others had at last
responded to the threat. Five teenage girls, to be precise. The
_young_ half of teenage. There was something familiar about them,
that tugged at Ian's mind. He shook it off and started to run towards
the monster, gun upraised. The monster hadn't noticed them yet; it
was still concentrating solely on Ian, a fact that was evident from
the increasing number of energy projectiles that was heading his way.
Trying not to think about what his agility was like most of the time,
Ian continued to dodge the bolts, hoping to survive long enough to get
a hit in. What did those girls think they were doing anyway? At this
rate, they were going to get themselves killed not knowing when to run
and when to....
"JUPITER POWER, MAKE UP!"
/Huh?/
"MERCURY POWER, MAKE UP!"
The girls all had something held up high above their head, and they
were each shouting something different. The monster half-turned to
look at them, pausing its assault on Ian. A couple of laser bolts to
the side of its head brought it snarling back to face the student....
"VENUS POWER, MAKE UP!"
As they each finished their own sentence, blinding light coalesced
around them, and they became hidden from Ian's view....
"MARS POWER, MAKE UP!"
Now, only one of the girls was left. She had a _very_ distinctive
hairstyle. Two balls of hair with a long ponytail dangling down from
each. It made him think of... of... /Meatballs. Like meatballs./
Now where had _that_ come from?
The last girl held some kind of pendant over her head, and shouted:
"MOON PRISM POWER, MAKE UP!"
As the light cleared, Ian found himself watching on the sidelines.
The girls had changed, that much was definite. Each of them were now
wearing some sort of superhero costume; almost like a sailor's uniform
with a short skirt, complete with white gloves and high heels. /A
sailor fuku,/ his mind helpfully came up with. Where had he heard
that before? Fortunately, the monster was no longer paying him any
attention. It spun to face the newcomers.
The one he had recognised with the distinctive hairstyle pointed at
the monster with a scowl on her face. "Even though shopping can be a
chore, it is a neccessary part of life, and often pleasurable. To
interfere with it in such a way is unforgivable. For love and
justice, we are the beautiful Sailor Senshi! In the name of the
moon...."
"...and the planets Jupiter..." interrupted the tall, pony-tailed
girl, who seemed rather tomboyish; almost looking forward to the
fight.
"...Mercury..." continued the shorter, girl with an almost bluish
tint to her short dark hair.
"...Venus..." said the blonde-haired senshi, arguably the prettiest
of the five; at least, Ian thought so. He felt sure the girls
themselves would have other ideas.
"...and Mars..." picked up the one with long, black hair; Ian would
have sworn she was rolling her eyes. As for appearance, she looked an
awful lot like the blonde-haired girl before her; maybe they were
sisters?
"...we will punish you," finished the meatball-haired girl, who
unlike the previous girl, seemed deadly serious about the speech.
Suddenly, he stopped. His eyes widened slightly as he realised
something. Sailor fuku. Meatballs. Senshi. It all fit. Ian
realised just who it was who had replaced the Knight Sabers in this
book.
"Oh no," Ian muttered under his breath.
The speeches finished, the senshi charged the monster. Most of the
fighting appeared to be just energy attacks; none of the girls seemed
willing to close for hand-to-hand which, considering the size of the
monster, was just as well.
"CRESCENT BEAM!"
Long ago, back before all this business with the bookshop had ever
happened, back when the worst Ian had to worry about was homework
being in late, Ian had been `introduced' to Japanese anime by a friend
of his. One of them had been a dubbed series named "Sailor Moon".
"SHABON SPRAY!"
"Oh god, oh man, oh shit...."
Ian, personally, couldn't stand it. The closest thing he had to
compare it with was an American TV programme called "Mighty Morphin'
Power Rangers", a show so corny and stupid that it didn't even merit
watching for the idiotic monsters. The plot of each episode of MMPR
was identical to every other one. New monster goes around causing
chaos. Power Rangers go and trounce new monster. Evil megalomaniac
sorceress controlling operation causes new monster to grow to Godzilla
height. Power Rangers call their dinosaur inspired mechanoids and
trounce Godzilla-size new monster. Admittedly, they didn't then all
go back home and have a round of ginger beer, but the last five
minutes of each episode appeared to be devoted to learning some kind
of moral. Apparently, the show had done really well in the States.
"THUNDER CRASH!"
"No, no, no, no, no!" Ian continued his litany, panic setting in at
the edges of his voice, which had been steadily rising in both pitch
and volume.
Of course, there was no way he could be in the dubbed version. That
was a TV programme. However, his friend had said that the original
Sailor Moon had been Japanese manga....
He was stuck for twenty-four hours in the middle of a book he
neither liked nor cared about. A little girl's book. He believed
`kawaii' was the word his friend had described it. Japanese for
"cute". And that it was. Ian could almost puke.
"FIRE SOUL!"
He was in their reality now. He was bound by their laws of physics
and their way of doing things. He was, to all intents and purposes,
trapped.
"MOON TIARA ACTION!"
The battle had been raging for well over a couple of minutes, and
sadly, it looked like the other buildings had borne most of the
attacks. However, the fight was now coming to an end. And with that
final cry, a tiara whistled through the air from the meatball-haired
girl's hand, and crashed into the badly wounded monster. With a mixed
cry of rage and pain, it collapsed into dust. The golden tiara
continued to spin through the air in a smooth parabola, before
returning back to the girl.
The scene brought reality screaming back to Ian with a crash. There
was no denying it now. He knew exactly where he was, and exactly what
he thought of it.
"Yatta," cried Sailor Moon in exultation.
"NO!" cried Ian in despair.
`Saved' by a bunch of fourteen year-old girls in abbreviated sailor
suits. Things just couldn't get worse.
--**************--
End Preview
Author's Notes: Fourth chapter. It's over, thank god ^_^
And now, of course, after four chapters of BGC, it's time to switch
over to Sailor Moon, where more fun, frolics, and general bad luck
will have Ian being shot at, terrorised, chased and hanging from high
places with no hope of salvation or, as is often the case, dropping
from high places.
Some people might not recognise some of the phrases in the Preview, or
might think that I got the attacks wrong, or something. Actually,
come to think of it, most of the people on the FFML _wouldn't_ think
that, since they already know what I'm talking about. Any which way,
the fact is, since Ian jumps around through books, it's very unlikely
he'd land in a dubbed Anime. No, as hinted at by the fact that the
shop signs are all in Japanese, Ian's landed in the original manga.
No, my Japanese isn't that good - apart from a few choice words, I'm
useless - all my information on the Japanese originals came from a
great FAQ by Hitoshi Doi, and reading too many Sailor Moon 'fics. And
even then, I still don't know a lot about the manga; only the anime
(of which I have 90% of the synopses... <sigh> ...now, what I wouldn't
do to get my hands on the original material.... (Actually, there's a
lot of stuff I wouldn't do; I'm sorta broke at the moment....))
Chances are, I've made mistakes in any part of the fanfic (except the
prologue. No-one can criticise me for that, because that book doesn't
exist!!! ^_^)
Comments & Criticism welcome. Flames are not. If you have a
criticism, don't just tell me, think of some way that I could make it
better. Give me a reason why it doesn't work. "That bit sucked,"
does nothing to help make it better. Neither do the words "You suck."
So please, constructive criticism only, and no abuse.
I'm hoping to have a great many parodies in the upcoming chapters...
including... well, you'll see ^_^
Speaking of parodies, my stuff is littered with both implicit and
explicit quoting, inferences, references and other such stuff ripped,
copied and pasted into my story from various pieces of fiction, fact,
games,... uh, you get the idea. To directly quote another author, a
very _good_ author (read "Mother's Day" sometime, and look out for
some of his latest ones, coming soon...):
"Special Bonus: Find all the references in the 'fic and win a
prize! Well, not really. But it would definately be good grounds
for someone suing me, and I suppose you could make a few bucks that
way."
I take this space to just say that the author who wrote that phrase is
one of the best fanfic authors I know.
I hope he doesn't see this ^_^
I would be interested to see if anyone _can_ find all the references I
made; there _are_ some pretty obscure ones there.
Hope you enjoyed the Preview. You'll see it again as the prologue to
the next part of "Boomers and Youmas", `Kawaii Just Doesn't Cut It'!
Terence Fergusson
-- Student of Advanced Murphodynamics
-- Stranded in an Anime-free College