This is just one of several odd little things that i wrote while i was
writing chapter four of Shattered Hearts on the road. I'm not sure if this
is a spamfic or not, but i decided that since i actually managed to post
chapter four, _finally_, i might as well post some of these as well. This
a sort of wierd and pointless thing, but anything that you have to say
about it would still be greatly appreciated. As usual, none of the
characters are mine, and i didn't ask permission to use them, so please
don't sue me. But anyway, here we go...







Mackie Stingray sighed contentedly as the sound of jet engines roaring to
life filtered through the thin walls of the plane, signifying their
departure. He was finally going back. After a year of toil and loneliness,
hitting the books at an acclaimed engineering academy in Germany, he was
finally getting a chance to go home. It was only for the summer, but any
respite from the grueling curriculum that his professors subjected him to
would be pure heaven in and of itself. And he would get to see _her_
again. As visions of a certain cute, uniformed red-head danced through
Mackie's head, he didn't notice the tall figure strolling down the aisle
until the man addressed him. 

"Excuse me, but you wouldn't happen to be named Mackie Stingray, would
you?" 

"Huh- wha?" Mackie blinked a few times and absently wiped a thin trickle
of drool off of his chin, before turning to face the tall, rather oddly
dressed man that was standing in the aisle beside him. "Oh. Uh, yeah. 
That's me. Do I know you?" Mackie favored the man with a mildly suspicious
glance. 

"No, but I know who you are." The man smirked mischievously. "And I'll bet
I know what you were thinking of as well. You're Nene-chan's boyfriend,
right?" 

"Ye- huh?" Mackie started a bit, and shuffled in his seat uncomfortably,
scooting away from the man. "How do you know Nene-chan? How did you
recognize me? Who are you?" He asked in a rush, his eyes darting back and
forth, scanning the aisle to make sure no one was staring at them. 

The man laughed heartily and clapped a hand down on Mackie's shoulder. 
"Relax, will you? I know Nene because I work with her. I'm Leon MacNichol,
Detective First Class, Tokyo ADP." Leon extended his hand, which Mackie
carefully shook, eyeing the detective nervously. "And, as to how I
recognized you, Nene showed me a picture of you once." At this, Leon
grinned widely, mirth and mischief gleaming in his eyes. "She's quite
stuck on you, you know." 

At this statement, Mackie forgot his apprehensions immediately, as a hot
flush colored his cheeks. "R- really? Does... does she talk about me
much?" he managed, with apparent difficulty, as he turned away from Leon
and became very engrossed with the ash tray in his arm rest. 

"Oh, all the time..." Replied Leon, still grinning like an idiot, as he
settled into the seat across the aisle from Mackie. 

"Wh- what does she say...?" 

"Oh, just how you're attending school in Germany, and how much you like
tinkering with things. How you're an incorrigible pervert..." Mackie
seemed to deflate a bit a this, looking slightly ashamed of himself. 
"...and how much she misses you, and looks forward to you coming back." 
Leon finished, watching in amusement as the younger man once again flushed
and started playing with the hitch on his seat belt. 

"Ahh... you seem to know a lot about me then. So... what were you doing in
Germany, Inspector MacNichol?" Mackie asked, subtly trying to steer the
conversation in a slightly less embarrassing direction.

"Actually, I had to changeover in Berlin after flying in from Glasgow." 
Leon explained. "I was attending my brother's wedding."

"Ah...so, what's with the skirt?" Mackie inquired jokingly, taking in
Leon's predominantly plaid attire with a glance. "Were you a bride's
maid?" 

Leon scowled in irritation, favoring the young engineering student with a
slightly indignant look. "It's not a skirt, it's a kilt. My family's
Scottish, so all of the men at the wedding wore them." He explained, self
consciously brushing a few wrinkles out of his kilt and adjusting his
position in the seat. 

"Why are you still wearing it then? Planning on starting a new fad when we
get to Japan?" Mackie peered in mock contemplation as he regarded Leon. 
"You know, I think I've seen a few girl's school uniforms that look sort
of like that..." 

Leon just sighed and held is head, his elbows propped upon his bare knees. 
"Me and a few other guys got pretty wasted after the wedding, at the
reception. I woke up this morning with a killer hangover, and incredibly
late for my flight, so I didn't really think about changing until I was
halfway to the gate. I had already checked all my luggage, so I ended up
just boarding like this..." He trailed off, waving his hand vaguely
downward at his clothes, sighing again. "Ah well, Daley tells me I have
nice legs. Maybe this'll get me a date or two." 

Leon's good spirits returned, and he chuckled lightheartedly while Mackie
just stared at him with a rather dumbfounded expression on his face. 

*****

The flight, thus far, had proven much less boring than Mackie had
originally expected it to be. Leon was a good conversationalist, probably
from having to interrogate difficult suspects, and he had many exciting
stories to tell about his time in the ADP. They had talked animatedly for
several hours, and thus far, were having a very enjoyable time of it. 
Inevitably, this had to end. 

Both Leon and Mackie's heads snapped forward as a feminine scream pierced
the stale air in the cabin, echoing down from the first class area. Leon
started to stand up just as a pack of panicked and frightened people began
to stream through the curtain and down the aisle, towards the back of the
plane.  Letting the pack pass him by, Leon looked over to Mackie and drew
a gun from under the back of his shirt. "I'm going to go see what's going
on.  Stay here." 

"How'd you get that thing on board?!" Mackie almost shouted, hastily
lowering his voice and checking to see if anyone had noticed. "Why didn't
they confiscate that?" 

"All ceramic or plastic parts. The bullets are high impact ceramic
flichettes in a gel-plastic shell and a plastic jacket." Leon grinned
roguishly. "Didn't show up on the metal detector. I have it for certain
types of under cover work. Don't tell anyone..." Leon put a finger to his
lips as he slipped out into the now empty aisle, crouched low and moving
purposefully towards the front of the plane.

Mackie just watched as the detective left, then got up and decided to ask
the panicked people in the back of the plane what all the fuss was about.
He could still hear them, shuffling around in the overcrowded area near
the tail, and he silently prayed that Leon would be able to handle
whatever was wrong. 

*****

Leon paused near the curtain, and looked about. This was a particularly
under-booked flight, with less than half of each class filled, so the
first several rows of second class were empty. Even the ones that had
previously held passengers were vacating quickly, as the panic spread.
*Hmm... maybe I should have asked what the commotion was about...*

Suddenly, the sound of metal hitting metal began to resound through the
cabin, along with a disturbingly familiar growling sound. *No way... 
Please, God, don't let it be that. Not on a plane...* Leon knelt down and
shifted the bottom of the divider curtain just enough to peer down the
aisle towards the cockpit. Though cluttered with various types of
obstructions, Leon could still make out a large figure beating its fists
on the reinforced cockpit door. As he looked closer, Leon realized that
his worst fears were confirmed. *Dammit, a terrorist model boomer. Just my
luck...* Leon could make out scraps of clothing and flesh-like material
hanging off of the boomer's armor plating, confirming that it had come on
disguised as a passenger, or perhaps one of the crew. 

*Hmm... it seems to be trying awful hard to get into the cockpit for some
reason. Probably sent to hold the flight hostage then, rather than just
destroy it. Good thing they make those security doors good and tough...*
Leon began to inch up the wall, back into a standing position. Once he was
comfortable of his footing, he took a deep breath and gripped the curtain
with one hand, and his gun with the other. *Well, here we go again...*

Leon threw the curtain open and swung out into the isle, immediately
taking a bead on the boomer's head. "Hello, I'm with the Plaid Foundation! 
I was wondering if you'd like to make a donation!" 

The boomer spun on its heel to face Leon, opening its mouth to reveal the
snubbed barrel of a laser cannon. Leon beat it to the punch, however,
firing two well-placed shots into the boomer's head. Dozens of tiny
ceramic flichettes slammed into the boomer's skull, knocking it back and
destroying both it's primary weapon and most of it's sensory systems. The
now nearly-headless boomer flailed around wildly for a moment, until it's
right arm hit the main cabin door. Immediately, the boomer regained it's
bearings and grabbed the emergency door release lever, pulling it up and
exposing the cabin to rapid depressurization as the boomer fell out into
the open sky.

*SHIT! It must've been one of those models with the braincase in the
chest...* Leon thought frantically as he gripped a nearby seat and held
on, the pressure equalization quickly blowing anything not bolted down out
into free fall. Suddenly, an explosion to the his left rocked the plane. 
Leon turned and looked out the one of the left side windows to see that
the engines on the left wing of the plane were on fire. Meanwhile, warning
lights were flashing and air masks dropped from the ceiling compartments. 
*DAMMIT!DAMNDAMNDAMNDAMNDAMN!! The boomer must've landed on the wing!
Better tell everyone that it's going to be a bumpy ride from here on
in...* Leon mused grimly as he made his way back to the rear of the plane. 

*****

Screams echoed through the valley as panicked, injured, and hysterical
passengers fled from the still burning wreckage of the downed plane. The
fires were spreading, and the co-pilot had oh-so-intelligently remarked
over the intercom that the passengers were advised to exit the plane in a
quick, orderly fashion, in case the fuel reserves were to catch fire. As
such, Leon found himself nearly trampled underfoot as he and the other
passengers tried to put as much distance between themselves and the
wreckage as possible. As the hysterical people were essentially fleeing in
all directions, with no real organization whatsoever, Leon soon found
himself alone in the forest. He could still smell the odor of burning jet
fuel, and see the column of smoke, but he figured that he was far enough
away to be safe. 

His theory was immediately put to the test, as a thunderous roar echoed
through the valley and a titanic fireball rose into the darkening sky. 
Leon dropped to the ground and covered his head with his arms, waiting. 
When he decided that death had chosen, once again, to pass him over, he
stood up and began to assess his situation. He had retained his gun, along
with everything else that he had been carrying on him, including his
wallet and badge. He had also escaped the crash largely unharmed, except
for a few bruises and some scrapes that he had acquired while fleeing. In
addition, he was totally alone.

"Shit... I'd better go back and see if I can find any of the others, not
to mention see if the emergency beacon survived the crash." With renewed
purpose, Leon MacNichol strode wearily into the night. 

*****

"Damn, I could go for a burger or something right now..." 

Leon just sighed and ignored his sole traveling companion. He had been
able to find the black box for the flight, but it had been badly damaged
and the beacon was inoperative. Fortunately, Mackie had decided to return
to the crash site as well, but neither of them had been able to find any
of the others. To add insult to injury, the cargo compartment had been
gutted by the fire, so Leon had been stuck for the last two days trudging
through the humid, insect infested forests of China in kilt. 

"Hey, Leon? How much longer do you suppose it'll be before we hit
civilization again?" Mackie asked tiredly, running a hand through his
dirty, blood matted hair. Mackie had sustained a minor cut on the forehead
during the crash, but had otherwise come out alright.

Sighing, Leon turned to the younger man and cast him a long-suffering
grimace. "Like I said before, I have no idea how far we got into China
before we crashed, so I can't say-" Leon stopped abruptly, halting in his
tracks and peering cautiously around into the forest surrounding them. 

"What? What is-?" Leon's hand over his mouth silenced Mackie immediately,
and Leon's cold glare prevented any further attempts at speech. 

Leon quietly whispered "I don't think we're alone," then abruptly threw
himself and Mackie to the forest floor about a meter to their left. Half a
moment later, four arrows thunked into the trees and ground near where
they had been standing. 

Grabbing Mackie's arm and hauling the startled student to his feet again
as he half rose, Leon uttered one word. "Run." With that, Leon took off
into the forest, dragging Mackie along behind him as he wove in and out of
the trees, dodging behind whatever cover was available. At first, Mackie
was hard pressed to keep up, but as more arrows began to fall around them
he quickly gained his second wind. Occasionally Leon would turn around and
wing a shot or two back into the dense underbrush behind them, usually
being rewarded by distant, strangled cries of agony.

"Who-"<huff>"-th-tha hell is-"<pant>"-shooting at us??" Mackie managed, as
he barreled headlong into a dense thicket, two steps in front of Leon. 

"How the hell should I know? You're the one with the education; you tell
me!" Leon growled as he fired another shot into the seemingly empty
forest. 

"Dammit Leon, I'm an engineer, not an anthropologist!" 

"Thank you, Dr.. McCoy! Now keep running!" 

"Why don't you just beam us up, Scotty?!" 

Leon spared a moment to slap Mackie in the back of the head as he resumed
running, every once and a while glancing behind them for signs of pursuit. 

"I can't take much more of this!" Mackie panted. By now he was looking
especially haggard, and the cut on his forehead had started bleeding
again, as he had struck his head on a branch sometime during their flight.

"That's my line! And anyway, they're still back there, so unless you want
to end up as some Chinese pygmy's pin cushion, you better damn well keep
running!" Leon growled as he pushed Mackie a bit ahead of him again. 

"How do you know they're still following us?" Mackie's question was
promptly answered by an arrow whistling by, just centimeters to the left
of his head. "Ack! Never mind!" Mackie whimpered, as he began to dodge
more frantically.


The forest, which had been becoming thinner and thinner as they
progressed, then parted completely, leaving the harried duo exposed to the
noonday sun. Unfortunately, though Leon had stopped and was desperately
scanning the rocky outcropping for a place to hide, Mackie was still
moving along at a considerable clip when he suddenly found himself
hurtling uncontrollably towards the distracted policeman, having been
tripped up by a protruding stone. 

After slamming roughly into Leon, Mackie braced himself for impact with
the ground but, strangely enough, it never came. In terror, he realized
that he had knocked them off of a cliff, and that they were in free fall.
Leon, who sounded like he was somewhere off to his left, was screaming
something at him, but Mackie couldn't make it out through the sound of his
own blood pounding in his ears. Mackie began to wonder if his life was
going to have time to flash before his eyes before he died, when suddenly
they hit, and he was enveloped in a shockingly cool embrace. He opened his
mouth to scream, only to have his mouth and lungs flooded with water.

Desperately, Mackie thrashed about, paddling towards what he hoped was the
surface. He broke the surface sputtering and waterlogged, his lungs
burning as he attempted to expel the water from them. Mackie didn't even
have a moment to breathe a sigh of relief however, as he was suddenly
yanked violently backwards, a rather panicked voice whispering for him to
keep quiet as he was dragged to the edge of the pool that was flush with
the cliff face. He couldn't quite tell, due to the water that still filled
his ears, but he assumed that it was Leon, so he kept still. Mackie
shivered uncomfortably in the pool for several minutes, his eyes shut
tightly as he tried to ward off the shock from nearly drowning, until Leon
finally began to silently guide them along the edge of the pool. 

Mackie opened his eyes again as he again found firm ground under his feet,
the pool they were in quickly becoming more shallow as they proceeded. He
hauled himself up the steep grade that was at the edge of the pool and
promptly collapsed on his back, staring up at the sky and panting in
exhaustion. His quest to curl up and die was rudely interrupted however,
when a voice off to his right asked a rather unexpected question. 

"Hey! Who the hell are you?" 

With supreme effort, Mackie levered himself up on his elbows and turned to
regard the source of the voice. What he saw was even more unexpected than
the question that had been asked. Standing in a crouch beside the pool,
wearing thoroughly drenched clothing quite similar to Leon's, was an
attractive woman that appeared to be in her early twenties. She had short
black hair, brown eyes, and a dark complection; probably Indian, or maybe
polynesian. In addition to this, she was currently pointing a gun at
Mackie's head. 

"M-Mackie stingray! Who are you??" Mackie sputtered as he stared fearfully
at the weapon in her hand. 

"Don't be stupid, and don't move either. I know who Mackie Stingray is,
and I can say that you are definitely not him. Now, who are you?" The
woman cast him a threatening glance, adjusting her aim, and Mackie was
almost certain that he would have wet his pants right then, if he hadn't
already done so when he fell off the cliff.

"What do you mean I'm not him??" At this point, Mackie began to notice
that his voice didn't really sound right in his ears; it was much too high
pitched. In addition, the rest of his body was feeling rather odd as well. 
He had first dismissed the sensations as a byproduct of his fatigue and
from nearly drowning, but now he couldn't be so sure any more. "I've been
Mackie Stingray for as long as..." Mackie trailed off as he took a stray
glance down at his body. Something was most assuredly wrong, and Mackie
was now dead certain that it had nothing to do with fatigue or drowning. 

The first thing he noticed was that his t-shirt and jeans were now several
sizes too large. This was odd enough in itself, but was quickly pushed out
of his mind as something about how his soaked shirt clung to his chest
caught his eye.. "No...it can't be..." Mackie looked again, but nothing had
changed. He had seen, and taken, enough pictures of them to recognize them
beyond any shadow of a doubt, and the wet t-shirt certainly didn't do
anything to hide them. Tentatively, Mackie brought a disturbingly small
hand up to poke one of them, and was rewarded with a somewhat familiar,
yet still rather alien sensation, in the vicinity of his chest. "No
way..." 

"Excuse me, but what the hell are you doing? You still haven't answered my
question yet. Who are you?" Her voice reminded Mackie that there was still
a woman staring at him, pointing a gun at his head. After taking a look at
her clothes again, Mackie suddenly had a burst of inspiration, and decided
to venture a guess. 

"Leon?" 

The woman stared at him in puzzlement for a moment, before answering. 
"Maybe, but that doesn't tell _me_ anything about _you_." 

"It should." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Have you taken a look at yourself lately?" 

"What are you talking about?? Why should I-" The woman stopped speaking
abruptly, as she glanced down at herself. Her clothes fit a little bit
better than Mackie's did, so her... attributes were easier to notice. 
"What the hell...?" she mouthed quietly, as she began a similar self
inspection to the one that Mackie had just conducted. 

"<ahem> I think perhaps I can explain." 

A new voice, emanating from behind them, broke Leon's concentration. She
swung her gun around to point it at the middle aged Chinese woman that had
appeared seemingly out of nowhere, standing behind them wearing simple
peasant's clothes, holding a ring-bound, laminated stack of signs.

"Please, put down your weapon. I'm not here to harm you. Only to explain." 
The woman made placating gestures with her hands. "I assume you would both
like to know what happened, yes?" 

After a moment of scanning the area, which appeared to be a long valley
filled with hundreds of pools similar to the one they had fallen in, all
of them having tall bamboo poles sticking out of the water in irregular
placement, Leon reluctantly lowered her gun, and stared expectantly at the
Chinese woman. "Explain." 

After taking a deep breath, the Chinese woman began to speak. "This place
is called The Accursed Springs of Jusenkyou. There are over five hundred
natural springs in this valley, and each one has its own tragic legend." 
She pointed to the spring that they had fallen in, and flipped to a sign
decorated with what appeared to be a rather long and complicated Chinese
name. "The spring that you fell into used to be called the Spring of
Drowned Man, and it had a tragic legend about a man who fell into the
spring and drowned 1500 years ago. Unfortunately, about 28 years ago, two
American tourists fell into the spring and drowned, so now we call it the
Spring of Drowned American Tourists. Now, anyone that falls into the
spring will take the form of the American tourists that drowned here. It
is a very strange curse, and we are still not quite sure how it works, as
you are the first two people to fall into the spring since them." The
Chinese woman finished, peering quizzically at them. "It appears that you
each took the form of one of them, more or less. I wonder what happens if
only one person falls in." 

"Wait a minute," Leon broke into her train of thought, confusion etched on
her face, "Curse? As in Magic? You've got to be kidding me here!" Mackie
nodded her agreement, keeping her eyes carefully away from her body. 

"How else do you explain how you explain what has happened to you?" The
Chinese woman said simply.

"It's got to be some sort of weird dream..." Mackie said weakly. "There's
no way I can be a... a..." She trailed off aimlessly, staring down at
herself again.

"It is no dream. Fortunately, there is a way to cure you, at least
temporarily. If you will follow me to my home, we can do so." The woman
gestured for them to follow, then began to walk away. "By the way, I am
called Plum." she called back to them. 

Numbly, Mackie drug herself to her feet, noting in dismay that her pants
were just about ready to fall off. "This can't be happening..." 

Leon, meanwhile, was having a slightly easier time. After tightening her
kilt around the waist, she stood up and regarded Mackie with a sickly half
smile. "Maybe so, but until we wake up with half a dozen arrows in our
backs, I'd suggest we get moving before we lose her." She jerked a thumb
off in the direction of the rapidly departing form of Plum. 

"That's easy for you to say." Growled Mackie. "At least that skirt still
works for you. And now that I think about it, you do have nice legs..." 
She smirked evilly, Leon's discomfort helping to distract her from her own
situation.

"Hmpf... Well, won't Nene be pleased to know that her 'boyfriend' is cuter
than she is." Leon prodded viciously. "I think blond suits you quite
nicely, Mackie." 

Mackie just groaned pitifully, cringing at the dire implications of this
surreal turn of events. *Nene-chan's gonna _kill_ me. No, first she's
going to dump me, _then_ she's going to kill me...*






Most likely, coming never! A Bubblegum Crisis, Ranma 1/2, Gunsmith Cats
(sort of) crossover/fusion. Jusenkyou Crisis, or, Gunsmith Cats 1/2!