Gantz : Chicago USA by Sharpe34
Summary: For the last 2 years strange beings have been attacking metropolitan areas all over Asia and Europe. U-tube and other streaming video sites have been posting blurry video clips of people in black suits fighting what could only be called monsters. Tonight for the first time, the horror struck at the heart of America. Chicago, Illinois.
Due to conflicting lore in the manga, live action movies, comics and animated shows, this is a mixture of all lore used loosely to tie the story together.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Please feel free to give me some feedback on this story. Thank you.
Gantz : Chicago USA - Chapter 1 - First meetings:
Mike Williams sighed with frustration. The rain hadn't stopped since he got to work, so now he has to ride his old Yamaha crotch rocket back home, without any rain gear. He glared at the puddles and rolled his helmet around and around in his grip as he pondered the best route back home. The freeway was faster, but traffic would kick up road spray all over him, but if Coco was right, the back roads were flooded.
Considering how few people came to the bar tonight, and the fact "Fat Tony" was sending them all home at 10pm, he was sure the roads were indeed closed.
"Hey Mikey, I'll give you a ride... maybe two?" Coco offered. She slowly licked her silver painted lips in a lewd display, before puckering up to blow him a kiss.
Mike rolled his eyes at the six foot tall transvestite and shook his head. "Naw, Coco, you know I don't swing that way. Besides, the bike's a classic and leaving it here means it'll probably be stolen by morning."
Coco grinned and shrugged, making sure to jiggle her tiny breasts at the shorter man. "You'll like it if you try it, babe." She grinned and then stopped teasing Mike. "Besides, old doesn't mean classic. That piece of crap was never a classic, how many times have we ripped it down to the frame to fix something on it? C'mon, I'll give ya a ride, no touchy, no fucky..."
Mike snorted softly and shook his head. "Naw, I think..." lightning flashed and he jumped a little, his knuckles whitened on the helmet as he clutched the chin strap tighter. "A little bad weather riding is what I'll need tonight to clear my head and get some sleep. Go home Coco, I'm good." He slipped the helmet over his head to hide his features, then straddled the RZ350 and kicked it to life. The gaudy neon lights and beer signs winked out as he slowly rolled the bike between the puddles and past the topless bar's large "Live Nude Girls" sign. Coco swung her little Prius out past him, tapped her horn twice, and quickly sped down the half mile to the freeway entrance ramp going south.
"15 miles, in the rain, fucking lovely," Mike muttered. At least he wasn't stuck unclogging the toilets tonight. Tony was going to have a surprise in the morning. "That's what happens when you're cheap, ya fat-ass. Told ya we needed to snake the drains in case of heavy rain."
With a vindictive grin he turned right and went to the north bound ramp. Merging with traffic was a pain on a bike at the best of times, but at night, the rain made it an even bigger adventure. He carefully judged the traffic and swung around the automated tollbooths as a car was going through. There was no flash of light from the toll booth grabbing a picture of his plate, so he gunned the engine and sped off, joining the steady stream of trucks coming out of Chicago and headed for Milwaukee.
The little motor snarled as he wound it up and started to pass a semi with a picture of pizzas on it. His gaze flicked to the drive axles as he crossed the border from Illinois into Wisconsin and started to lean to the right to shift onto the exit ramp. 'Super singles, poor guys are screwed when they blow. A semi should have 18 wheels, not 8 huge donuts and a pair of steers...'
The explosion was deafening. Both drive tires on the semi exploded as the driver went over something in the road. Neither Mike nor the hapless driver saw what it was, but Mike did see the 60 pound chunk of rubber, metal cords, and pieces of the aluminum rim come straight at him. He clenched his eyes tightly closed even as he ducked his head and tried to apply both brakes. The bike shuddered and went airborne. Mike saw the flash of lightning as it crawled through the heavy clouds, then the dim glowing white line of the shoulder stripe, then a rider, helmetless, in jeans and a ratty leather jacket, just like his, swinging rapidly away from the swerving semi. The sky, more clouds, the stripe, the rider swerving into the ditch... the headless rider... clouds... a darkening puddle... blackness...
.o0o.
"FUCK!" Mike exploded and flailed his hands and feet. "Fuck me, fuck! What the? Fuck!" He blinked as his helmeted head hit and bounced off of the bright off-white room's wall.
"Easy son, easy... we all had a bit of a shock." A soft older voice said off to his right.
Mike turned his head and started to shudder, he flipped up his visor and gasped for breath. "What the fuck? Ohh shit, that was... so real." He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to vomit, and took a couple of steadying breaths. He ignored the voices, two older people talking to him, at him, whatever. "Oh shit, not again." He checked his wrist, then remembered, his medical alert ID was on his ratty nightstand, the band torn from fighting with the three frat-boy jocks that thought grabbing the girls by the tits was fine, if they tipped them first.
"Oh shit, that's what it is, stupid opioid reaction." He sighed. "Oh man, that was so real, I hate it when that happens." He pulled his helmet off and looked around him. An elderly couple, maybe in their 60's or 70's? They seemed frightened of him and slightly familiar. A young black man, late teens, early 20's, rubbing his fingers up and down his chest, counting his ribs Mike figured. Short hair, baggy pants, ass half hanging out, oversized shoes, Bear's hoodie...typical Chicago wanna-be thug. Over in the corner, a monster. Hispanic, six and a half feet tall, 250 maybe 260 pounds, bare chested, prison ripped and tatted all to hell. Huge MS-13 on his neck, devil horns, tear drops, and more. 'Shit, not just a banger, but an enforcer. Fuck my mind, why couldn't it be a uber horny version of Coco trying to rape my ass instead of this symbol of my id to fuck with me.'
No sooner did he think it then there was a weird noise drawing his attention to the middle of the room.
A large black orb squatted against the far wall, centered to the room. A harsh blue light streamed from it even as a soft grinding sound like an old fax machine started chattering softly. A second beam joined the first, then a third, then a fourth. Mike watched as the old couple hugged each other tighter and whimpered.
"Here comes another one!" The old woman whimpered, and the old man almost crawled over her to keep his back between her and the orb.
The young black kid watched with interest even as the banger started prowling around the apartment. Mike could hear him kicking the doors, the fixtures, ranting in a methed-up rage in Spanish.
"Well fuck, he's not a happy camper," Mike muttered softly.
The kid flashed him a look, then smirked. "Paco's pissed and high as fuck man, but I don't think the dude speaks English."
Mike grinned and shrugged. "His tats tell me enough. Asshole, useless, drugged up, rapey fucktard." He shrugged. "My unholy, fucked up, worse side."
The kid crinkled up his face and tilted his head to one side. "What? Dude, you trippen' too? Oh... oh man that's a bit of nice."
Mike turned and stared at the junction of the four light beams. A slim, busty, nicely formed Asian girl was sprawling on the floor. Short black hair, nice tits, no scars he noted, so most likely real. Wow. Belled hips, nice legs, and nude. "Damn, that completes the surreal trip down my psyche." He mumbled, pondering his situation.
"Whining parents, check.
Nameless hood rat, slash, responsibility, check.
Hot masturbation fetish model, Oh yeah, mega-check.
And my asshole self-loathing in the form of a giant tripped out MS-13 banger... fucking perfect."
"Dude... what are you talking about," the younger man asked.
Mike tossed his helmet into the corner and leaned over the whimpering girl, head tilting from side to side as he slowly inspected her. "Head trauma, topped with a severe reaction to opioids, this is all a far out hallucination I'm having during my hospital surgery, or maybe ambulance ride." He shrugged. "Happened before, I mean, I know I'm not supposed to self-explain, that leads to paranoia and self-delusion, but, I need to grasp control of the dream or it could be... bad." He forced the girl to sit up so he could look between her legs. "Huh," he shrugged "thought that would be smooth, go figure."
"Young man!" The old man screamed. "What do you think you're doing to that girl?" He left the side of his wife and tried to get Mike to let go of the girl's arm. "Let go, let go! You can't grab some little girl and force her to pose for you like... a Barbie doll!"
"Dude," Mike answered dismissively, "I bounce at a titty bar, that's what I do every night."
.o0o.
Music started to play, a children's song from some old TV show...
It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood,
A beautiful day for a neighbor.
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?...
It's a neighborly day in this beauty wood,
A neighborly day for a beauty.
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?...
I've always wanted to have a neighbor just like you.
I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you.
So, let's make the most of this beautiful day.
Since we're together we might as well say:
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won't you be my neighbor?
Won't you please,
Won't you please?
Please won't you be my neighbor?
Mike shifted his eyes to the old man, then the young girl. "Wow, I really do have some fucked up issues." He shrugged as words appeared on the orb.
Your old lives are over.
What happens now is up to me.
Tough cookies,
assholes.
Go now, and kill this guy:
A picture of a young man with a head that looked like an onion flashed up on the screen.
Strong, smelly, dangerous
Likes: Onions
Quotes: Onions are enough for me!
Mike cocked his head to the side. "The hell did they give me? Onion guy, kill him? We're in a locked room... gotta be a," he shrugged apologetically, "library book return, or a bad salad flashback guilt trip or something, sorry gang."
"She's way more New York, than Chicago, if you ask me." The young black kid said softly. He had his hoody off and was draping it over the girl as Mike and the old man had a small stare down. Mike released her and rocked his head from side to side, shrugged, and went to look at the orb.
"There's no screen, the words are just... on it," he muttered softly.
"Move..." the slim girl muttered softly. Mike barely had time to turn to look at her when the orb split open and the two sides shot out with enough force to have broken bones if he wasn't turning away already. He jumped back and glared at the girl.
"You knew that was going to happen?"
She gave a barely perceptible nod then drew her legs up to her chest and sobbed softly. "We need to get ready, Gantz is going to send us out soon." She hesitantly extended one finger, pointing at the rack of metallic cases. "The suits are in those, one for each of us, we have to put them on, quickly."
Mike turned his head and could see the engraving on the first two cases, his name, followed by the word 'psycho'.On the other side was Yamada Sato, and the inscription 'juicy'. Mike drew the cases out and chuckled softly. "Well, this could be interesting." He tossed the case at the girl's feet and started stripping out of his clothes. Everyone gasped as his pants hit the floor as he kicked off his boots.
"Dude! Underwear man! Fuck, I don't wanna see your junk!" The kid said as he drew a case from the rack and set it aside, then tossed the old people two other cases.
Mike never even looked at their inscriptions, he was pondering the girls name... porn girl? Some cosplay model? Maybe a gamer handle from before he went mostly off the grid? He looked at the suit and snorted rudely. "Leather and spandex? The fuck? And these goofy shoes? "How do... we... fuck me."
Yamada had turned away from them all and stepped into the shoes. As soon as her feet made solid contact with the soles of the shoes, the black suit crawled up her legs and swarmed over her, covering her in seconds and becoming so form fitting Mike could still see the outline of her nipples through the doubled layers of the materials over her chest. She hung her head and started to cry softly, placing her hands over her face as her body shook.
"Fucking puta!" The forgotten MS-13 member had stopped his useless attempts to escape the apartment and wandered back into the room unnoticed. He back handed the half undressed young black kid and grabbed Yamada by the throat, lifting and shoving her against the window. He started digging his fingers into the neck of her suit, obviously trying, and failing, to rip it off her. His stream of rapid Spanish was too fast for Mike to catch, but his exposed erection informed him what the gang member had in mind. He hadn't even gotten the girl's top off and was already grinding himself against her, panting and growling like an animal. His erection left smears over the girl's belly as everybody looked on in shocked disbelief.
"No, NO! Tasukete! No, tasukete!" she screamed. Mike raised an eyebrow and turned his back on the pair. He ignored the screams of the girl, the shouts of the old man and woman and the young kid's pleas for the gang member to stop. He examined the orb's racks. Funky guns of a design he had never seen before. A couple of rifles in racks that seemed to be locked down, and, sword hilts? The slaps of flesh on flesh disturbed him, he looked over his shoulder to glance at the kid. Mike could see his case now, Tyrone Johnson, 'thumbs'. He chuckled softly, the kid was cupping his face moaning and spitting up his obviously shattered teeth, while cupping his smashed nose. The old man and woman were back in their corner, not undressing, not helping, just yelling about God's punishment and such. Mike touched the sword hilt, it came out of the rack easily, he squeezed the hilt and a little over a meter of glowing metal blade sprang forth.
"Whoa, go-go-gadget Jedi." Mike took three steps and rammed the tip of the blade through the banger's hips, right at kidney level. The blade barely shivered as the mune machi (un-sharpened back edge of the blade) slid over the points of the hip bone. The giant MS-13 member screamed and dropped the girl, his hands flashed to the blade and he yanked on the metal. His fingers fell to the floor in a spray of blood. "Fucking useless part of me, you would think I had this under control after all the years of therapy, the stupid dog, the VA shrinks, but, nope, little morphine and bamf, instant asshole side re-emerges." He pulled upwards, and the blade cut with very little resistance. The blade made soft ch-gunk noises as each of the ribs were severed, and as soon as the giant went to his knees, the blade popped out from the chest, just under the chin. The edge kept swinging upwards, slipping right through the lower jaw, severing the tongue, and not stopping until it lodged between the upper gold capped molars. Gore splattered Mike, the girl and the window she was being molested against. "Well, that's sure sharp." He released his tight hold on the hilt and the blade withdrew with a soft hiss, collapsing back into the hilt. "Neat."
Naked, Mike stepped into the weird shoes and groaned softly as the suit embraced him. "Whoa, this thing feels actually kinda good. Come on mom, pops, get moving, you too 'thumbs'. Looks like we're going to go hunt... the salad man."
Coming soon, Chapter 2: A Walk in the Park.