A/N - When brave kid asked me to take a look at reworking his story, which has been previously written once by Story Weaver 1 and written again by DJ Tagz09, I found an intriguing world based around a fascinating premise. The Jagin Warriors, a collection of mighty Experiments who fight to defend an exotic location from a terrifying evil, lends a great deal of storytelling freedom. There is a very exciting story here, and I am privileged to be able to tell it once more. It may be slow to update, but it is because I will be doing my best to recreate that world first shaped by the authors before me. Please share your feedback as we once again enter into the world of these warriors in Jagin Reborn.
~Euphonemes
Jagin Reborn
Chapter 1
"Breakfast!"
In all the universe, and the many worlds and many more inhabitants who reside within, there was no one else who could say that word as passionately and as beautifully as Lilo did. Her soprano always caught itself perfectly on the first syllable, filling out the sound in such a way that would invariably cause Stitch's stomach to start rumbling furiously, which would send the illegal genetic experiment stumbling in a sleepy haze over to the kitchen table.
Experiment Six-Two-Six —his official designation, though he much preferred the name Lilo had bestowed upon him — had curled up his sapphire-furred body on the living room floor, enjoying a nap after a long luau the evening before. Four of his six limbs were drawn in tightly underneath his slightly pudgy belly. Long ears were splayed out, soaking in as much of the morning heat as they could. His wide dark eyes stayed shut even as dawn gave way to a fully risen sun.
His stomach did indeed rumble at the sound of his best friend's voice. But today turned out to be different. The big bay windows overlooking the koa-lined floors let in the rays of golden sunshine reflected off the placid ocean. Those beams careened around the tight space, bouncing off the black screen of the old tube television and landing squarely on the midnight splotch affixed to Stitch's back. Three dorsal spines made half an effort to rise, but the wave of relaxation overtaking Stitch brought them back down. The warmth of the sun kept him firmly planted to the floor, and he brushed off Lilo's siren song.
"Stitch! C'mon, it's breakfast time!" Adamant — typical Lilo. Stitch deeply admired that about her. She had stuck by him when he had crash landed on Earth over three years ago, an evil-minded fugitive from galactic justice. She had not given up when he had accidentally destroyed her house and nearly wrecked her life — not his proudest moment, he would later admit. But through it all, she had taught Stitch the meaning of family. So when his cousins — all of his cousins — descended onto this tiny island on this unknown rock in a far-flung arm of the galaxy, Stitch had not been surprised that she could so adeptly convert them from their designated evil intentions, and then bring them into their ever-growing family.
"Stitch. Get. Up." Lilo's voice was much closer now. He cracked open an eye to find the little girl, hands on her hips, delivering an admonishing glare. Hawaiian natives, she and her older sister. Given a few more years, they would probably look almost identical — though Stitch would never say that aloud. Still, Lilo's flowing black hair gained a striking look to it in the golden morning light, and her ubiquitous red muumuu swished in the cool air as she lovingly kicked at Stitch's gut with her sandaled feet. Grudgingly so, Stitch abandoned his luxurious spot on the floor. Lilo smiled brilliantly at this development, and she began to lightly jog backward.
"Let's go! Last one to the table joins Hämsterviel in jail!"
Stitch could have easily overtaken her. He could have opened up into a dead sprint, exercising all of his unequalled strength to snatch victory from Lilo's hands. Instead, Stitch yawned, baring rows of sharpened teeth, and plodded at a snail's pace toward the checkerboard pattern of the tiled kitchen floor. He reassured himself that it had only been one Earth month since Hämsterviel's latest incarceration had commenced. So it wouldn't be too terrible to hop right into that cell. Of course, he'd miss the Federation's medal awarding ceremony scheduled for next month, and he would not want to disappoint Lilo.
Stitch's bulbous nose twitched as he crossed the threshold into the kitchen. He detected the complex scents of store-bought pancake batter crisping in an iron-cast pan, of the six types of sugar contained in the syrup bottle, of the fresh Hasagawa butter melting on its serving dish. The wooden chair had been pulled away for him, and he gratefully hopped up and plopped down.
"All right, pancakes are almost done. Lilo, would you be so kind to set these plates on the table?" Lilo was bouncing on the balls of her feet next to the stove, where the owner of the warbled voice was flipping a round of flapjacks. It turned out Pleakley had a knack for household chores, and by his own admission, he enjoyed them much more than his desk job in the United Galactic Federation. His thin and lanky body, complete with tentacles for arms and legs, were the color of the uncooked batter resting in the mixing bowl on the kitchen counter. One relatively massive eye flitted around the room as Pleakley's voice filled with typical anxiety concerning the task at hand.
"Ohh…I hope I didn't put in too much flour…and why is the pan so hot! Oh no!" Thankfully, Lilo stood ready to calm the spastic alien, and soon, a stack of pancakes —slightly burnt — made its way to the table. Stitch salivated as the breakfast menagerie appeared in front of him. He wasted no time in snatching up his fork and stabbing at the pancakes, dragging five onto his plate. They were crispier than he preferred, but his stomach did not seem to care as it grumbled, awaiting the scrumptious meal. He brought an entire pancake to his mouth, savoring the smell so close to his nose.
"A-hem!" The fork, with pancake still attached, clattered as it hit the table. His bones creaked as Stitch cranked his head toward the kitchen's entryway nearest the stairs to the upper floor. There, bathed in shadow, was his most profound love. Pink coils of fur bounced as she strutted into the kitchen. Her adorable eyes batted coquettishly as they met the sun, which was creeping in through the window behind Stitch. The pink in Six-Two-Four's fur flared as she entered the light, and Stitch would have sworn she was sparkling.
"Ah, Angel, good morning! Would you mind helping me? My apron seems to have come undone…."
From his chair, Stitch observed Angel adroitly fixing Pleakley's problem. Her delicate fingers weaved two threads together in a tight knot, and she uttered a pleased grunt as she secured the apron. Everything Angel did left Stitch in awe. The most mundane task of tying a knot enraptured him in ways he never could understand, even with his supercomputer brain fully engaged.
"Boojiboo?" Stitch shook his head, and found Angel standing next to him. Normally, she would be gearing up for a passionate embrace and a kiss to greet the morning. This time, however, her arms were on her hips — much like Lilo's had been, horrifically uncanny, in fact — but for an entirely different reason, Stitch knew. The luau last night had gotten a little more rambunctious than planned. That evening, Stitch had challenged fellow Experiments to a boulder-throwing contest, a feat of strength to woo Angel. She had pleaded with him that no wooing was necessary, but the challenge had been made. Kixx and Richter had accepted that challenge.
Three boulders had been set up on the beach, and an audience had rapidly gathered. Experiment Six-Oh-One, a three hundred pound behemoth with fists like granite, employed a few kickboxing techniques to hurl a boulder twice his weight far down the beach, out of range of the tiki torches blazing in the sand. Cheers erupted, but were short lived when Five-One-Three stepped up to bat. To Stitch, Richter looked like one of those exotic "bee-vur" creatures Lilo had talked about, ones that his best friend suggested lived in some far-off realm called Canada, only with more spikes on his back. But his tail was certainly something to fear. A solid smack, and his boulder rocketed down the shoreline, easily overtaking Kixx's shot.
Kixx was not one to hide his feelings. Stitch could sense the ire accumulating in his cousin's massive frame, and briefly considered whiffing on the boulder toss and keeping Kixx calm. Then Angel caught his eye. She waited at the head of the mob of cheering cousins, her staunch declination appearing to have softened. The boulder toss seemed to be working on her. She gave Stitch a sly wink, and he knew he needed to fling that rock.
Light as a feather — or at least, it was that way for a creature capable of lifting three thousand times his own weight. Stitch spun around, faster and faster, like those track and field stars on the television. The energy grew in the boulder, grew until it yearned mightily to break free. This rock would travel far, Stitch could tell. He readied to let go.
Experiment Two-Two-One had other plans. Sparky, a physical and mischievous embodiment of electrical energy, had disappeared when the contest had started. His antennae, which by themselves doubled his height, were usually dead giveaways, even when he transformed into his ethereal form to ride lightning bolts. Stitch was never fooled — the ozonized air always tattled. Yet somehow, Sparky slipped by Stitch's nose, and fired a small arc of electricity, which struck Stitch in his rear. Concentration fled. Stitch yelped and let go. The boulder sailed off into the sky, over the other two rocks, over the beachhead, into the town, and landed on the roof of Officer Kaihiko's police cruiser. Sparky guffawed and then made himself scarce before Stitch could properly react. A collective gasp, then muffled whispers and murmurs as the cousins fled the beach in droves, scattering detritus of the party that had now reached its indecorous end.
Stitch had spent the rest of the evening trying to explain to Angel that it had been an accident. She was a tough one to convince. Most likely because Stitch had also been chuckling a bit after the boulder flattened the car. His days of "Meega nala kweesta!" and wonton destruction had long since passed, but every once in a while, he allowed himself moments of inflicting damage on things —Angel did not approve. This had not been one of those moments, and Stitch asserted as much to her, but to no avail. And, given her posture next to him at the kitchen table, she still had not come around.
In an act of hungry desperation, Stitch decided to try to sweet-talk her. He cleared his throat and employed his best Tantalog — the language afforded him greater fluency. His mind translated the words into English as he went, good practice for improving his skills.
"Boojiboo, I just wanted to say how beautiful you look in morning sun—"
"Naga!"
Stitch blinked. He had not been prepared for this contingency. He started again. "Um…H-How are you this morning, my delicate orchid?"
A giggle rose in her throat — Stitch could hear the first few notes — but she suppressed it. Still, the corners of her mouth turned up, and she breathed in deeply. Stitch held his own breath as he awaited the answer.
The front door banged open. They both jumped. In marched Kixx, Richter, and Sparky, laughing together at some joke. They spotted Stitch and Angel at the breakfast table. And they laughed louder.
Kixx entered the kitchen first and tapped Stitch on the shoulder with his fist. Stitch almost fell out of his chair.
"Hah! Good toss yesterday, cousin! There's no way I could've been mad about losing after that!"
Stitch offered a sheepish grin, but not before Richter joined in the fray.
"Yeah, you should probably stay away from town for a while. Never know what else ya might break!"
They laughed and slapped each other. Angel stood at a distance, dumbfounded. Stitch hopped down from his chair and rushed to her, but with a few hops, she backed away. Stitch tried to say something to ameliorate the situation, but more jokes from Kixx and Richter put an end to that. Angel stormed off down the hall. Stitch wheeled around, blood boiling, to confront the duo.
And then in zipped Sparky. For once, Sparky would prove to be the voice of reason. Stitch suspected the unusual reversal of roles was Sparky's way of atoning for his little lightning bolt from the night before.
"Alright guys, leave him alone. Go be stupid in the other room." They huffed, but did as directed. Sparky turned to Stitch. "I'll go talk to her. You hang out, and have a pancake or two." With that said, Sparky bolted through the entryway and down the hall. The whole scenario struck Stitch as totally strange. This is going to be a weird day, he thought as he hopped back up into the chair and grabbed the fork again.
Someone's labored breathing echoed from the hallway. With a frustrated moan, Stitch dropped his breakfast again and headed to the entryway. As he poked his head around the corner, a rotund mauve figure rushed by. It screeched to a halt, and four beady eyes peered back.
"Ach, Six-Two-Six, there you are being! Come, come! Please to be seeing my latest invention!" His creator, Jumba Jookiba, mad scientist — or idiot scientist, depending on whom you asked — extraordinaire, had an ominous pitch black box tucked under an arm. His yellow aloha shirt threatened to pop a button as the scientist heaved from his run, and Stitch was in no mood to be on the receiving end of that projectile.
He followed Jumba into the living room, where Kixx and Richter had gotten into some argument about nothing important. Their creator shushed them, and the room fell silent as he set the box on the ground and began fiddling with its innards. Stitch tried to peer around Jumba's wide frame, but he could only catch glimpses of a colored wire here and a transistor there.
An ear flipped around, and he heard Lilo bound down the stairs. "Nani said it'll be a while until she ready, so go ahead and start eating without her!" She entered the living room and stopped. "Ooo…what's that?" her naturally boundless curiosity questioned.
Jumba finished up a few more connections, then stood away and let the crowd admire his creation. From the box jutted forth two sets of prongs, not entirely dissimilar to the fork on which his uneaten pancake sat in the kitchen. Next to the box, screwed into its own post, was an incredibly thin television screen, which now crackled with fuzzy static. A bunch of dials and knobs were glued to the front of the box, and the whole kit glowed with an eerie blue.
"This, my friends, is being my newest invention. Is multi-dimensional quantum communication device that can activate resonant frequencies in parallel realities to produce visual stimuli. Screen here interprets those bursts of electrons and foreign radiation to create image for our eyes to be seeing. I call it the Multi-Dimension Quantum Wave Transformational…no wait, the Pan-Dimensional Quantum Viewing…Thing…no, ach!"
Everyone had been scratching their heads as Jumba had rolled out that description. Even Stitch had admitted defeat halfway through. Angel currently occupied most of his mind. "So…" hummed Lilo. The whole room turned to her with mild surprise written on their faces. "So it's kinda like a window to other universes?"
"Eh? Uh, yes, precisely, little girl! Allows us to be seeing other worlds. And potentially be able to be interacting with them! Though Jumba is not quite sure on that part yet."
"And we sit on the edge and look through it?" After Jumba nodded his assent, "So why not call it the Windowsill?
Time and again, people underestimated Lilo. Most saw a little girl, under the care of her elder sister, mouthy at times but really a meek and feeble creature unable to take care of herself. Yet, those closest to her knew the truth. Stitch understood Lilo's brilliance, and had been a firsthand witness to her kindness and generosity. She would help anyone in need, but fought most fiercely for her family. Without Lilo, none of them would be in this very room. Stitch smiled at her and offered a resounding "Ih!" in support.
"Hmm, yes, is being good name…Windowsill…wish Jumba would have been thinking of it first!" He chuckled softly as he bent down and turned some of the knobs. Instinctively, everyone took two steps back. Jumba tinkering with a device usually ended in some sort of explosion or conflagration.
Stitch found himself closest to the front door. His finely tuned ears picked up the birdsong floating through the ocean breeze. Gorgeous notes filled the humid air, and he tapped his toe in time with the music. He made it through a whole movement, and was waiting patiently for the conclusion of the short intermission when he smelled her entering the room.
Her adorable eyes looked a little too downcast for comfort. Puffiness around their edges denoted tears had been shed. Ozone wafted by, and Sparky was again hanging out with Kixx and Richter. He gave Stitch a barely perceptible nod before opening up with another joke.
Stitch didn't hear the punchline. All his attention had been directed to Angel. She shuffled her feet, bashfully shielding her face from his probing gaze. A blue paw remove the guard, and drew his boojiboo to him. Her head collapsed onto his shoulder, and as he wrapped her up, she sighed with a palpable contentedness. A full minute passed by before she nuzzled his neck and spoke sotto voce.
"Boojiboo, I am sorry. I know you were trying to impress me. I shouldn't have been so…so…."
Stitch tapped Angel on the nose. "Naga. Stitch is the one who is sorry. Boulder toss was stupid game to play. I should have listened to you. You always right."
Her soft laugh ruffled the fur on his neck. Stitch loved feeling that laugh. "I know," she whispered back. His turn to laugh, and then they held each other and let the world melt away as birdsong played.
Where's the music? Stitch's mind suddenly raced. His ear perked up and flipped around, working to capture hints of notes. Instead, he picked up something very different.
"Why do we gotta do this anyway? That gerbil's in jail. He can't do nothin' to ya now."
"You don't know the half of it, half-pint! He found a way out, and is gunning for me. If I don't deliver an Experiment, I'll —"
"Woah there, champ! Hämsterviel's out? How'd that happen?"
"Never mind! Just do your job! And turn down the volume on your communicator, I can hear myself talking."
"Of course, Your Highness. We shan't offend King Fish-Lips."
"Grr…just figure out what's going on!"
"I do as the King commands!"
"Grrah—"
Silence sent Stitch back into the room. Angel was still pressed firmly against him. He gently rubbed her shoulder. "Boojiboo, I need to handle something." She murmured in protest. "Just one moment, boojiboo." Reluctantly, she relinquished her hold on Stitch.
In one swift move, he got to the front door, whipped it open, and dragged Six-Two-Five into the living room. The goldenrod Experiment, pudgier than Stitch but otherwise remarkably similar in build, yelped as Stitch tossed him by the sienna-capped tufts of fur atop his head. Six-Two-Five floundered about on the koa floor as his other cousins recovered from the sudden shock.
"Hey, it's Sandwich Boy!" Lilo proffered from the back of the room. The name certainly fit — Six-Two-Five was renowned for his ability to whip up sandwiches seemingly out of thin air. It was the only talent that escaped the pull of laziness that more than likely kept Six-Two-Five in Captain Gantu's employ, where he was tasked with stealing his own cousins for Hämsterviel. Due in large part to this choice, the other Experiments had less kind appellations to provide for Six-Two-Five.
"Traitor!" Kixx shouted the most popular and least vulgar one. Stone block fists were raised. Six-Two-Five tried to counter with his own fighting stance, but paled at the sight of Kixx's imminent punch.
"And that's my cue!" If he had not borne witness, Stitch would never have believed the pudgy Six-Two-Five could move as fast he did. He dodged Kixx's haymaker, leapt away from a brutal kick, and let a jab land squarely on the side of the couch. Richter started slapping the ground, which caused the koa flooring to peel up. Lilo put an end to that.
"Be careful!" she admonished while grabbing Richter's tail. "If you break the house, we'll be in big trouble. Nani will not be happy!"
Sparky was a trifle more calculated with the bolts he unleashed. Even so, he put a few burn marks into the floor, and managed to blow out the television set once Six-Two-Five jumped out of the way in the nick of time. Stitch wailed at the loss and begged for everyone to halt the fight, or at least take it outside.
"No way. You dragged me in here, cuz. Yer gonna pay the penalty!" Six-Two-Five shouted from his newest perch — the ominous black box.
Jumba had run to the corner of the room when the fighting commenced, but was now inching back toward the Windowsill setup. "Please to be taking it easy there, Six-Two-Five. Do not be making any sudden movements."
"Wha—why? What is this thing?"
Stitch should have seen it coming, but he had thrown himself over Angel, protecting her as he always did. That is probably why he missed the anger seething in Kixx. The punch flew in at blinding speed. Six-Two-Five fell forward to avoid it. In doing so, his flailing limbs triggered almost every knob and switch on the front of the box. He rolled out of the way as Kixx tumbled to the ground and smashed into the box's console.
The prongs shook. As they did, they emitted a horrible high-pitched ring. Stitch covered his ears and gritted his teeth as the discordant sound increased in a crescendo of pain. Some blue sparks popped into existence, casting oddly tinted shadows across the room. And then the Windowsill opened.
Stitch was strong. The vortex was stronger. Suddenly, Stitch was airborne. His cousins, too. Claws thrust down. They dug into the koa. Scraping. Inching closer to a hole in space-time. The humid Kaua`i air rushed to greet this new entrant to the universe. And it was determined to bring everyone else with it.
"Don't worry!" Jumba's shouts barely rose above the deafening roar of air escaping existence. "Failsafe should be kicking in soon! Just be hanging on tight!"
Stitch settled, then looked around. Kixx had latched onto the jamb of the front door. As had Richter. Sparky's glow as he raced the wind illuminated the scene with a frightful yellow. Six-Two-Five was nowhere to be found. Jumba was carrying Lilo under his arm, using his girth to shield her while he trundled toward the staircase to the upper floor. Angel had fought her way back toward the kitchen and had braced herself against the inner wall.
"Hey, what's all this racket! These pancakes are getting col—augh!" Pleakley had bumbled into the room, and was swept up in the current. Tentacles flapped uselessly as the vortex continued its rampage. "Oh no no no!"
A pink paw shot out. "I got you!"
"Oh, Six-Two-Four, don't let go!"
Angel grunted as she reeled in Pleakley. A foot left the ground as she braced her weight against the inner wall. Cracks started to appear in the drywall. She pulled Pleakley around, closer to where she had been hiding. Two tentacles had suction-cupped onto the wall when the corner gave way. Angel lost her footing.
"Boojiboo! Help!" screamed Angel as she flew past Stitch. Luckily, highly trained reflexes nabbed her by her toe. Unluckily, Stitch forgot to account for the added weight.
Both of them twisted through the air. They passed by Kixx, who mistimed his move, threw himself off balance, and ended up tumbling into the vortex. Richter's tail had not been positioned properly. When Kixx had left, the increased exposure made this plain, and Richter, too, fell into the hole. Stitch and Angel watched as Sparky, clearly losing his race, instead turned around and zipped into oblivion.
Pleakley, Jumba, and Lilo could only look on in horror as first Angel, then Stitch, passed through the Windowsill.
The roar disappeared. Total silence in the vortex. Stitch looked around, drank in the surroundings. A diaphanous curtain with a prismatic shimmer to it, cylindrical, wrapping around the vortex. A tunnel. Behind him, his cousins. Tumbling far away. Or perhaps close by.
A light down near the end. Stitch squinted. A mountain. Tall and proud. Green, lush valleys. Maybe a figment of imagination. Not real.
"Stitch—no!" An echo. He turned again. Her face. Lilo. The last thing to see. Where's breakfast? Stitch closed his eyes. "Stitch! Come back!"
Total silence.
Disclaimer : This story is a fictional work. Any references to any persons, living or dead, are coincidental. This fiction is intended for personal consumption. It is not intended for commercial sale or distribution. "Stitch" and all related media © The Walt Disney Company.