Disclaimer: I do not own FLCL. If I did, this fan fiction story would no doubt be one of the many sequels that I create. If Gainax, the gods who created FLCL, request it, I shall remove this piece from the WWW.
Warning: This story will contain cliche, yet bar raising gore and other vulgar stuff. If you are NOT 17 or older, please leave at once!
Ultima Tech LTD, in affiliation with ODIN (the almighty Norse god), presents:
MISTER MEATHOOK:
Furi Kuri, Second Genocide!
Chapter One: FALL OF THE INTERSTELLAR IMMIGRATION BUREAU
In the liberal town of Mabase, Japan, everything seemed normal. Adults went to work. Kids went to school. No extra terrestrial activity was seen, at least not since some fourteen months ago.
The main character of this story, a thirteen year old child, had awoken from what appeared to be a good dream.
He stood no more than 5-feet-2, weighed no more than 100lbs. His brown mop of hair was now shoulder length. His Blue eyes cold as ice. He smiled grimly as he chuckled internally. No doubt some twisted idea passed through his thought process. He threw his puke green bed sheets off of him, revealing he was fully dressed in a black Mayhem t-shirt and camouflage pants. Reaching under the bed, he grabbed his black socks and steel toed combat boots which were of the same color. After double knotting his foot gear, he grabbed his black boot bag, which had a crimson baphomet sewed onto it, and headed downstairs.
"Noata-kun."
The young one looked to his left and saw his father, who was reclined on his red Lay-Z-Boy, watching some sort of murder on the television news.
Newscaster: The meat hook killer is still on the loose. No one knows who he is, but his style is most intriguing in the minds of gore fanatics.
Some random fanatic: The meat hook killer is definately the best thing to come out of this country since that episode of Yu-Gi-Oh when the gang caught Kaiba and Jonouchi in the middle of gay butt sex!
"Raise hell, my son!" He threw his son the devil ensignia, which was a cliche among metallers.
Noata smirked. "Whatever Ka-san, whatever." He walked out the door and onto the street.
(((((Scene break)))))
At school, in classroom 4-B, Naota reclined with his feet on the desk.
His teacher, a man with a fair tan, standing about 5-feet-7, was dressed in a brown suit and red tie. His glasses seemed to match his tie. Hair was a generic black and eyes a generic brown. His name was Kira Sung Lee. As he entered the class, his eyes focused on the young Nandaba. He sighed, and approached. "Son, I think it's high time you learned to accept Jesus Christ as your lord and savior."
Naota lightly shook his head. As angry as he was for an insult like this, he knew it wasn't entirely his fault. After all, he was born and raised in Seoul, South Korea, a land were it is uncommon to see anything but Fundamentalist Christians.
After all these weeks of the boy's rejecting his advice, he finally snapped. "God damn punk, it's not bad enough that you ruined your life! You had to drag Ninamori down with you!"
Naota was void of any emotion. "She brought it upon herself."
Mister Sung Lee scowled before heading to the front of the classroom.
Gaku, easily the smartest next to Ninamori, took over as class rep. He still had a virtual skin head and those thick glasses. Standing in front of the class, it was time for his routine. "Rise… Bow… Sit."
Sakura and Shinobu Ninamori had always planned on homeschooling their daughter, though it seemed they had no choice. After their divorce, Eri was expelled from school on less-than-honorable terms. Rumor had it she was found in the men's locker room, dressed in nothing more than a pink thong, going down on some guy. She took the blame for it, claiming she offered him 10,000 Yen to do so.
Naota sighed at the girl's naivety. He thought it didn't make sense how she allowed her parent's actions to bring her down.
(((((Scene break)))))
After school, Naota walked out of the front gate...alone. He pretty much lived as a hermit these days, mindlessly indulging himself in the most unadultrated of Black Metal music. He pretty much mastered his Rickenbecker, though he scowled at what that bass guitar meant. It was a symbol for the liar, the deceiver, the ice cold bitch that was only known as Haruko.
He whisped inaudibly, "That bitch."
"Why can't you be a man? Call me a bitch to my face!"
Naota jerked his head up. If heaven was a girl, it was most definately the girl in front of him. Eri, who stood about 5-foot-1, had dyed her hair to match her eyes. For a girl the age of 14, she was filled out extremely well. He perky breasts were a larger B cup. Her waist and abs were tight, in addition to her butt. And her legs! They were so long, so slender, so shapely! Her neck and collar bone were also nothing short of miraculous. She was dressed in a red, leather miniskirt which didn't even cover her rear end. If one were to peep, they would get a good glimpse of her black thong. Her red, translucent button-up, short sleeve shirt was only buttoned at the second and third button from the top, giving you a clear view of her sexy abs, neck, collar, and slender arms. Her fair tan was unnaturally perfect, yet it was truly natural! Having no bra on, you could see her perfectly crafted breasts through her shirt. The small of her back was also something to behold as well. "Damn woman, were a bra!"
"With ultra perky breasts like these? What's the point? They're not gonna sag until I start breast feeding, and I sure as hell don't plan on having kids."
Naota rolled his eyes. "Decency, for one."
"I guess being a devout Viking makes you decent, eh Nandaba?"
He smirked. "Guess you got a point there."
They started down the sidewalk, leaving the school behind.
Eri giggled, "So what did I do to get on your shit list this time?"
"I was thinking of Haruko, actually."
"Oh..."
"She used me, Eri-chan. It's not the nicest feeling." He stared at the ground. His brows cramping, possibly with rage.
"Are you sick?"
"Nani?"
"You called me Eri-chan."
"My bad, won't happen again."
"Oh, but I like it when you call me by my first name. It's much sexier when we're on first name terms."
Naota chuckled. "Speaking of sexy, are you supposed to be Santa's little helper?"
"Say what?"
His sly grin was too apparent. "You know, the one that services him when he's reading the LIST."
"Oh shuddup!" She punched him in the shoulder.
"Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesus Christ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
(((((Scene break)))))
In Naota's room, he held an ice pack to his right arm as he sat on the lower bunk. "I can't believe how hard you punch."
"Maybe I could be a boxer?" She beamed.
"You could be, but I guess there's the chance that your face could one day get busted up... I mean, you're ugly enough as it is."
"I'll break your other arm too!" The female threatened to administer more pain, the malice in her eyes told she was absolutely serious.
"Gomen! Gomen!"
She turned her back to him, staring at the street below though the window. "What do you really think of me?"
Noata blushed, thanking Odin that she couldn't see his face. "Well, you have matured quite a bit in the past six or so months.
Eri blushed too.
"Not just physically, but mentally as well. You're no longer the manipulative, scheming wench who would go through any means to get what she wants."
A brow raised on the girl's face. At first, she wanted to beat the stuffing out of the brat, but then it came to her, she wasn't any different than Haruko, back then. However, that's not the case NOW.
"I'm so sorry."
The boy scratched his head. "For what?"
"I failed to be a good friend."
She turned to face him. The light that shoned through the window made her look nothing less than a goddess, though the tears...this made this image seem so tragic.
"Why are you crying?" Naota asked weakly. "Did someone close to you die or something?"
"I don't deserve you."
She shakily walked over to him.
"You're wier..."
He was cut off as Eri pushed her lips to his, muffling his voice.
"I'm sorry, Naota, if only things were different." She slowly left, without saying another word.
Naota pondered this situation, but after a few minutes of hard thinking, and ultimately, a migraine, he thought he should leave it be. After all, it was getting dark, and the time had at last come. He sprung out of bed and opened one of the drawers on his dresser. He smiled at what he saw.
(((((Scene Break)))))
Mandarin Li Fu, the most prestigious Chinese restaurant in town, was occupied by a couple that REALLY stood out. One was a man with red hair and Ray-ban sunglasses. He was dressed in a black suit with a sky blue tux, navy blue tie, and had prosthetic eyebrows.
A woman, a ganguro girl to be more precise, sat across from him. She was in an elegant red gown that displayed generous cleavage and was cut right below her knees. It was tight-fitting, so you could clearly see her sexy, mildly athletic, perky figure. Of course, her calves made most men drool. Her high heals were of a red that was equally shiny.
"Check please." Amarao asked a waiter, devoid of any emotion.
A few seconds later, the waiter returned with the check. He looked at the check. It was a mere 75,000 Yen, nothing the man, General Amarao of the Interstellar Immigration Bureau couldn't handle. He pulled out a 100,000 Yen bill, and handed it to the waiter.
"Thank you sir!"
"Shall we go, Kitsu?"
Kitsurubami smiled. "Of course, dear."
They walked out of the restaurant, heading towards their Volkwagen Phaeton, which was painted Black. However, they were faced with an untimely and unfortunate dilemna. A seemingly young man, dressed in full body Kevlar, gasmask, and combat boots, leaned against their car. His utility belt probably contained some razor wire. In his left hand, he held his trademark, the symbol of his legacy... a meat hook.
Amarao smiled. "You think you're any match for the IIB?"
The killer was silent.
"Step aside, Kitsu." Underneath his suit was a black holster for his silenced PP9 handgun.
The bullets, aimed at his head, bounced off like nothing.
Kitsu had a hidden holster on her left inner thigh. She drew out what appeared to be a Desert Eagle .357 semi automatic magnum pistol.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The bullets were harmlessly deflected.
Amarao growled. "He must have at least three layers of armor!"
The mystery man ran up to the IIB general, delivering an uppercut to the heart, meat hook in hand, that
ended the man's life. Amarao choked to death on his own blood.
The mad killer was soaked from the spray of crimson liquid. Wasting no time, however, he impaled the ganguro
with the meat hook. He held the back of her head, allowing her to slowly descend to the ground, lifeless.
He had no need to bring Amarao with him, though upon suspecting Kitsurubami, he knew that before he disposed of
her body, he would need to have some fun with it.
End Chapter One.