This is a weird setup idea that I had a while back that never really
took off, aside from two major sections. Here they are spliced
together in a director's cut. Please keep in mind the vast majority
of this was written a long time ago... a long, long time ago... and
please be forgiving. We were all young once. It's more of an
original character, but I wondered what I'd be like if my background
had been different.
A multi-crossover idea that won't be completed any time soon...
Demon Doors
by Tannim Murphy
Disclaimer: Neither Tenchi Muyo nor Robotech belong to me. I don't
even claim to own the setup, and would like nothing better to forget I
ever came up with it.
--
When the call went out for potential candidates, over five thousand
people were found world-wide. These were people who had the ability
to at least see the Doors, if not go through them. I don't know how
they were discovered, except that the tech-boys had the cooperation
from every government on earth to scan as much as they liked. The
threat of demonic invasion wasn't a pleasant one. Everyone found was
given a choice: You can join or not. They weren't going to force us.
They also didn't sugar-coat it for us: We were all probably going to
die. However, it was a mission to save Mankind from the Great Evil
from Beyond. I wonder how many others besides me actually fell for
that line. Apparently, around two hundred of us decided to stick
around.
We were the brave and the foolhardy. Those of us who either felt we
had nothing to lose, or that we wanted something more in our existence
than nine-to-five jobs. I'm sure there were a few martyrs in the mix;
those that felt that they were sacrificing themselves for the greater
good. I never met them. They probably all died in the First Mission.
Yes, the First Mission deserves the capital letters. Those of us that
survived it won't ever forget it. Well, not that it matters. Most of
us that survived it are dead anyway.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
We had about a one week crash course in our weapons of choice. Those
of us who had prior training were the most fortunate; we at least had
some experience. Those poor bastards who stuck around without any
experience at all had no way of knowing what they liked and were
familiar with.
We were given any type of weapon we wanted, short of tac-nukes.
Apparently they discovered the demons like fire and explosions, but
couldn't handle metal very well. I, myself, chose to stock up. Four
Desert Eagles on various parts of my body; one for regular firing and
reloading, three for emergencies. I decided I needed a few extra
'emergency' guns, so I loaded up myself with a couple of revolvers
that I could easily reload the bullets manually if I had to. I also
had a machine gun on general principles. I needed something that
could spew out more bullets a minute than I could talk words a minute.
The damn gatling gun I originally wanted was too heavy for me to lift.
I think someone else picked one up, though.
How did I, a twelve-year-old, know what kind of weapons I liked? How
I did I even know how to use them, you might ask? It's simple,
really. Until I was eleven, I lived with my uncle, my only living
relative. I loved the old coot. Crazy as a wombat, though. He lived
in the wilds of Texas, on quite a large plot of private land. He made
sure it was private, by force of arms. He taught me how to survive,
how to shoot straight, and how to sneak around in the forest. I
thought it was one big game at the time; now I'm thankful for those
survival lessons.
That's all I'll say about my past.
One of the weird things about the Doors: only those sensitive to them
could pass through them unscathed. We could bring other people, but
unless we were in constant contact with them the entire time on the
other side, they died. I never found out why. Maybe the tech-boys
figured it out, but they never told us.
Sensing a pattern? The scientists didn't tell us a lot of things.
'Need to know basis.' We never needed to know.
I'm getting off track again. It's one of the many bad habits I've
picked up.
Oh, I've forgot to introduce myself. I used to be a semi-normal kid
with a semi-normal name. However, after I survived the First Mission,
I was given a nick-name by my friends. Everyone who survived that
became friends. You don't abandon people that you've gone through
that kind of hell with.
You can call me Handgun Hank.
Cheesy, ain't it? I like it, though. We got a peculiar sense of
humor.
--
"Why do I have to carry all the extra weapons?" whined Hank as he
trudged behind Stan and Akane.
Stan was called Stan because of his nickname. "Stan the Man with the
Plan" was given to him because he is reason there were survivors at
all after the First Mission. He figured out that if you kill the
leader, the horde falls. He called some snipers together, got the
rest of the survivors to lay covering fire, and after a few dead
demons, the leader was found and killed. The rest of the demonic
horde dispersed soon afterward, leaving some very thankful humans.
Akane was Japanese and never got a nickname. Whenever someone thought
about it, the only answer they could come up with is "Akane is Akane."
She didn't need a nickname.
Stan shared an amused glance with Akane before answering. "It's your
fault we're without a ride."
"Hey, that was SO not my fault! How was I supposed to know that demon
had a taste for motor oil?" grumbled Hank as he shifted his burden for
the umpteenth time in an attempt to make it more comfortable. The
rocket launcher was particularly difficult as it didn't work well to
counter-balance the boxes of ammo he had strapped to his other
shoulder.
Akane grinned at the irate teenager's discomfort. "You shouldn't have
tried ramming it, and then it wouldn't have eaten the engine
compartment."
Hank held his reply, his attention focused on checking behind him for
possible threats. After making sure they were clear, he turned back
to respond. "We just had that new titanium reinforced spiked front
installed, and I wanted to test it out. How was I supposed to know
something with that small a head had that big a mouth?"
"Excuses, excuses," said a smirking Stan.
"You should be thankful you get to drive at all. Not a lot of kids
your age are allowed to," said Akane.
"Yeah, yeah..." grumbled Hank. "A lot of kids my age also haven't
saved the world."
--
It was quiet at HQ as the officer on duty waited patiently for Team 8.
They were a few hours overdue, but that was normal. Sometimes, a team
was waylaid while they had to take out a particularly large batch of
demons. Other times, the team had mechanical failure, and had to hoof
it back to base.
Then again, sometimes they didn't come back at all. Those were the
most worrying.
It startled the officer on duty when an honest-to-goodness wild-haired
scientist bolted through the doorway.
"We've got it! We've got it!" he exclaimed.
"Got what?" replied the tired-looking officer. He wasn't feeling up
to dealing with the crazy people down in R and D. Weren't there other
people for dealing with the scientists?
"We can finally close the portal for good!"
That the officer's attention.
"There's only one problem with it. We don't have much time."
--
"C'mon, Hank, hurry up. The sooner we get home, the sooner we can eat
food again," said Akane.
"Yeah, like the crap they serve in the cafeteria can be considered
'food,'" grumbled Hank.
Another weird thing about the demon plane: you never had to eat there.
That was a good thing, as any food brought to it spoiled and rotted
quickly.
It was several minutes before they arrived at their destination.
"Well, here we are. We've made it," said Stan.
The Door stood in front of them like a glowing, baleful red eye.
Tendrils of evil energy slowly swirled around the epicenter, the
brightest part of the Door that had a dark, violent red glow.
Akane reached it first. With a complicated series of gestures, the
iris of the portal expanded just enough for a human to duck through
and enter.
"C'mon, slowpokes, I can taste food already," she threw over her
shoulder before exiting.
Stan followed soon after without bothering to comment, though he did
throw a half-grin in Hank's direction, twenty feet behind him and
still struggling with the load of ammo nearly twice the kid's own
weight. He chuckled at the sight as he stepped through the portal.
--
"All right, they're back! Do it!"
"Do what?" Stan asked and stared uncomprehendingly at the staggeringly
large number of lab coats where he expected military fatigues.
"Hit it!"
--
The suddenly bright light in front of him made Hank look up from the
green ammo boxes with a start. Then it grew to such intensity that he
dropped everything to shield his eyes, boxes of ammo and rocket
launcher clattering to the ground. When the light finally went out,
the boy kept his eyes shut a few extra seconds to allow his abused
retinas to rest. Even after moving his hands away, he had to blink
hard to get the spots out of his eyes.
Hank stared at the empty space in front of him. For a moment, he
wondered whatever the hell made him sensitive to the Doors was on the
fritz. The gate should be right in front of him; he just paused to
adjust a strap!
Well, great. His ticket home had just been rejected, and he had no
way of knowing how long he could survive in a place like this with no
backup. There were possibly billions of demons on this plane of
existence, each one with a taste for human flesh. And a couple with a
taste for metal. Without the ability to re-supply with ammo, it was
only a matter of time before he was the next snack on the Demon
Buffet, even if the demons they tended to encounter were few and far
between, and mostly lazy.
Hank had lost all ability to panic when he survived the First Mission.
It's not that he didn't fear death. He really, REALLY, didn't want to
die. It's just that he was forced to adopt the position that if he
was going to die, he'd rather go down fighting. That and he'd seen
people panic on the First Mission. It got them killed.
However, a situation like this could not go completely ignored. Hank
therefore felt, even if there was no-one else around to hear, that he
needed to give some kind of comment.
He did so.
"Well, shit."
Hank thought it summed things up quite nicely.
--
Time passed...
Yosho was meditating.
It would be more accurate to say that Yosho was drinking a cup of tea,
while listening to the sounds of his grandson work on keeping the
temple clean, but he was a shrine priest. Therefore, whenever he was
sitting in one place for long periods of time, it was not called
'being lazy.' It was meditating.
Yosho did a lot of meditating.
Something interrupted his meditations. This was not one of the
habitual explosions known to rock the temple from time to time. Nor
was it the sound of an entire lake trying to empty its contents from
Mihoshi landing her ship in it. Neither was it the crescendo of
sound that erupted whenever Ryoko and Ayeka were having a battle of
titanic proportions. No, this little sound caught Yosho's ear not
because of how loud or explosive it was, but because it seemed to
originate just below his hearing range.
Yosho focused his hearing as he had learned over the years, to
eliminate all other background noises. Still, the sound eluded him.
Finally, he put himself into a deep trance, so has to further focus
his hearing.
There! A voice!
"...then I'll go buy some junk food. Or maybe I should buy the junk
food first, and THEN take a bath? Yeah, then I could EAT the junk
food WHILE taking a bath! Maybe I should get some clothes that don't
make me look like I just stepped out of a cheesy war movie? Perhaps
the ammo re-supply depot is open? I'm running dangerously low on
bullets.
"Geez, I hope I come out someplace friendly. I don't think I could
take killing demons for another month. At least, a month is what my
watch says. God, I love my watch. I'd probably go insane without it.
Hell, I've probably gone insane with it.
"I hope the place has people. People that can understand English. Or
at least Japanese. I speak Japanese almost as well as I speak
English. Okay, so that's a lie. I can barely make it known that I
can't really speak Japanese. I'll have to trust that someone will
speak English on the other side. Of course, judging by the way things
have gone on for me there won't be much chance of that. I wish I had
paid more attention to the Japanese lessons Akane was giving me. Then
again, the chances of whatever is on the other side speaking Japanese
OR English is small, so I'm pretty much screwed whichever way you look
it.
"I wonder how Akane is doing. I wonder how Stan is doing. I hope
they're all right. They're probably worried about me. Aw, who am I
kidding, they probably think I'm dead.
"What is this, the five hundredth time I've had this conversation with
myself?
"No, that was only the four hundred and ninety-ninth time.
"Oh, were YOU keeping track?
"No, but somebody had to answer, do you see anyone else around here?
"Do you think I've gone crazy?
"No, I don't.
"That was sarcasm, wasn't it?
"Good for you, you figured it out!
"Oh, shut up!
"So, you're telling yourself to shut up, are you?
"No, I'm only telling a 'part' of myself to shut up. The annoying,
sarcastic, can't-say-anything-good part that I wish was a tad quieter
these days.
"Well, too bad! You haven't had anyone to talk to for a month
straight, and SOMEONE has to play the opposite of the conversation.
It's not interesting if you're always agreeing with yourself all the
time.
"Okay, everyone just shut up. We're at the Door."
Yosho mentally blinked.
"You 'do' remember how to go through it, right?
"Of course I do! It's easy!"
The voice paused.
"Okay, I'm still waiting.
"Hold on, hold on, I'm sure of got it...
"You've forgotten, haven't you?
"No! Not really... just... misplaced it in my mind...
"You HAVE forgotten!
"Well, if YOU'RE so smart, why don't YOU open the door?
"I'm not the one in charge of the brain. I don't have access to all
of your memory files.
"A likely excuse! You're me, you should know!
"Fine! I'll show you!"
There was another, longer pause.
"You've forgotten too, haven't you?
"Well, can you blame me? I've been trying to keep you from going
insane the last month!
"You haven't done a very good job then, have you?
"All right, just SHUT UP. I do not have multiple personalities; I
just answer and talk to myself on purpose so that I don't generate
multiple personalities. And now that we're going to be talking to
OTHER people, it would be a BAD THING if I started talking to myself.
Do I make myself clear? Good. Now, I think I remember how I open
these things..."
Yosho was violently jarred out of his trance when a glowing red portal
suddenly appeared in front of him. It was a swirling vortex of
crimson that generated an aura of pure evil. Generally not a good
thing, despite what he had heard a few moments ago.
Whatever Yosho was secretly expecting, a brown-haired teenage boy in
combat fatigues and loaded with weaponry was not one of them. The boy
quickly and efficiently scanned the surrounding area as the gateway
closed behind him. His eyes finally came to rest on Yosho.
"Are you going to kill me?" the boy asked bluntly in perfect Japanese.
Yosho appeared to think it over for a moment. "No."
"Are you going to steal my stuff?" the brown-haired boy asked in the
same tone of voice.
Yosho looked over the equipment strapped to the teenager. "No, I
don't believe I will."
The boy paused for a moment, as if unsure what to do next, and blinked
twice. "'Kay. I'll just collapse from relief now."
He did so.
--
It was afternoon in the springtime of the temple, without a cloud in
sight. Sasami hummed cheerfully as she made her way up the steps,
lunch in hand for Grandpa. He wasn't really her grandfather, but he
was just as good as one. All of the qualities were there; he was old,
wise, and always complimented her cooking.
It wasn't long before she reached the tops of the steps. Instead of
being inside the temple like expected, he was already up and walking
towards her. Good timing! she thought to herself.
"Hi there Grandpa!"
A pang of worry stabbed Sasami as he didn't even glance in her
direction and walked past her.
"Grandpa?"
What was it that made him look like he had seen a ghost?
--
The first thing that entered Hank's field of vision was two pink orbs
looking down at him. An entire month of surviving alone in a hostile
environment where every living creature was literally out to get you
did strange things to your reflexes. Those reflexes kicked in, as the
first order of business was to clear some space from the potential
hostile. Usually, a demon would already be swinging toward you if you
woke up to see them above you. It took him two near-deaths to figure
that one out.
Hank literally scrambled away from the eyes as quickly as he could.
He had become very good at scrambling. The boy was also very good at
running. There was also dodging. In fact, most of his best skills
were directed at the ability to remove his personage from the range of
hand to hand combat, where he was at a serious disadvantage. All of
his other skills involved marksmanship and speed reloading.
One of the few things that Hank never had to deal with in an almost
featureless void was walls. Unfortunately, Hank wasn't in a
featureless void anymore. He had to deal with a wall now. In fact,
he dealt with one so hard he nearly broke a rib from the impact.
The pain barely registered on his mind, though. He was too busy
trying to figure out the apparition in front of him. The pink orbs
were looking at him with something other than hunger. The pale skin
was a different take from the normal colorful demon variety that would
normally range from red to green. Most of the skin was covered with
something that was colorful, though he couldn't figure out why a demon
would wear something artificial. Even the long horns protruding from
its head were swept backward and were tinted the most curious shade of
light blue. If he didn't know better he'd say it almost looked like
'hair'.
In fact, the creature was so odd he had to stop himself from pulling
the trigger on the holdout gun he had instinctively grabbed. Hank had
grabbed it after slapping all the usual places he keeps his weapons
and coming up empty. He always kept something 'special' strapped to
his left leg underneath his pants, for times he was separated from the
rest of his arsenal such as now. Or he ran out of other things to
shoot with and couldn't reload fast enough.
The creature was looking at him now with a different expression. It
took him a few moments to realize what it was, as he hadn't seen it in
a long time.
It was fear.
That wasn't right. Demons didn't fear. Therefore, judging with the
evidence before him at all the odd qualities the creature in front of
him possessed, he was forced to put it in a category he had not used
in a long, long time.
He was forced to put the creature in the category of 'not-demon'.
Hank noted that the creature he was pointing his gun at looked very
nervous; he pulled the gun up so that it was pointing at the ceiling
in order to make it feel better. Maybe it could speak?
"Who, are, you?" asked Hank in a slow, loud voice, as if anything he
said in a slow, loud voice could be understood no matter what language
the other creature spoke.
"Sa-Sa-Sasami," the creature stuttered as it kept its gaze on the gun
fearfully.
Hank had, until this moment, been acting solely on reflexes. The
reflexes normally dictated what the body did, since there usually
wasn't much time for thinking; however, in this situation, the
reflexes couldn't figure out what to do next. The reflexes
metaphorically threw their hands up in the air, put themselves back on
standby alert, and asked the brain to handle things from here on out.
Once Hank began to process things normally, he came to a realization.
He wasn't in the Demon World anymore.
And he'd almost shot an innocent little girl.
"Holy crap. I am so, sorry. I didn't realize- I mean I've been- it's
just that-" stuttered the young man. Hank forced himself to calm
down. "Um... I'm really, really sorry?"
The girl said nothing as her gaze was locked onto the gun in Hank's
right hand.
"Oh. Right." The young boy quickly shoved the revolver back into the
holster. "Look, I'm really sorry about almost killing you-"
Without a word the girl scrambled out of the room.
Hank sighed. "That could have gone better."
--
Years Pass...
It was a glorious day for Macross Island. The project that the entire
community had been formed around was finally completed, and was about
to take its maiden flight. Ten years of dedication and hard work, a
project that had been given the support of the entire world, was
finally going to be finished. Veritechs came out in full formation as
they provided aerial shows, much to the delight of the citizenry.
Several of the advanced fighters were even stationed on the ground for
curious citizens to take a closer look at.
In an alleyway, away from prying eyes, a portal radiating pure evil
sprang into existence. A young man stepped through it with a throwing
dagger out and ready to be used in case of danger. His eyes quickly
scanned for any hint of trouble. The young man was around the age of
seventeen, though you wouldn't know it judging by his looks; a vicious
scar ran from the top of his nose, down under his right eye and nearly
to his jugular, making him appear older than he was. His face was
also haggard from various adventures he had already gone through. The
young man wore very archaic clothing, compared to standard times: a
cloak was swept over the right arm, freeing it for action. A blue
tunic was worn underneath the green-and-tan cloak. He also wore
leather pants and belt, while two red fingerless gauntlets decorated
with silver plating and two large red rubies adorned his forearms.
The odd outfit was completed by fur boots that were laced up nearly to
his knees.
The vortex of energy, also known as a Demon Door, winked out of
existence as soon as he was fully through it, the only evidence that
it ever existed was a lingering sense of dread. The Demon Doors
themselves lead to a plane of pure evil that bordered on many other
planes of existence. It was a terribly hazardous way to travel.
"Well, this is a delightful change of pace," muttered Hank as he eyed
the surrounding buildings warily. "Looks like a tech world instead of
a magic one. Better not take anything for granted, though."
The young man hunkered down in a dark corner of the alleyway. He then
brought out a device and used it to scan the surrounding area.
"Yep," Hank nodded to himself. "Looks like I'm the only one in the
surrounding area with magic." The man put the odd device away.
"Maybe I can get cosmetic surgery for this thing," muttered Hank as he
fingered his scar. "It's kind of cool looking, and good for
intimidation, but I stand out way too much."
Hank pulled out a small brown sack. "I still can't believe Link gave
me all his adventuring gear. Sure, I helped a bit in beating the big
bad guy, but you'd think he'd keep the cool stuff he collected." The
young man shook his head sadly. Link had insisted on giving Hank the
items he could only use as an adult, since he was going to go back to
the time when he was a child. "I just hope he doesn't regret it
later. Who knows? A guy like him is probably destined for more
adventures. He'll wish he had kept all of these neat items. At least
the bag is handy; it holds anything I put in there, no matter the
size." How else could that Biggeron sword fit in there? Not to
mention the Mirror shield and the Hyrulian shield.
One thing about being a dimensional wanderer: you found a lot of neat
stuff.
The young man reached in and pulled out two anklets, a ring, and a
bracelet, the real reason he had gotten the bag out in the first
place. "Time to get ready for whatever is out there," muttered Hank
to himself as he put the items of power on.
On his left ankle, slipped on under the boot, he clipped on the
oddly-named "Sprint Shoes," a magic relic he picked up along with
several magicite in a world where magic and technology both existed
(though the magic seemed more advanced, but less accessible, than the
technology). They not only doubled his running speed, but they also
allowed him to run tirelessly for as long as he needed without
destroying his physical body. A very useful addition if you were able
to spell yourself to run up to speeds of 60 miles an hour and more.
Hank placed on his right ankle another strangely-named magic relic:
"Dragoon-boots." He got this the same place he got the "Sprint
Shoes". The item allowed Hank to jump insane heights if need be,
though he usually used them to merely jump over tall buildings in a
single bound. Occasionally, he would have to use them to jump 'down'
instead of 'up', if he was trapped on a cliff face. They seemed to
work both ways just fine.
On his right wrist, Hank put on a magic item from another realm
entitled "Battling Mages Last Resort." Despite the really neat name,
all it did was allow the user to use the "expedious retreat" spell for
an extended period of time; instead of merely a few minutes of double
the running and jumping speed, it stretched the time to a few hours
(with one minute roughly equaling one hour). However, it could only
be used in that manner once a day. This allowed a person to run
'really' far away.
The young man placed on the middle finger of his left hand a small
band of gold. This was his prized possession, a magic item called
"Magic Ring of Haste." It allowed him to cast the spell "haste"
(which doubled his movement) three times a day. This was especially
useful when combined with "expedious retreat." Hank wished the spell
lasted longer than a few minutes, though.
Hank's natural running ability allowed him to run faster than the
average person, being able to top out at 15 miles an hour. Combined
with his "Sprint Shoes," the young man could easily run 30 miles an
hour all day. For several hours after casting "expedious retreat,"
Hank could run 60 miles an hour. If Hank also used his ring of
"haste," he could reach his maximum running speed of 120 miles per
hour. It was a very useful combination of spells and magic items.
Using items and spells that he had found in various realms together
like this, along with a willingness to run away when need be, had kept
him alive all these years he had been adventuring.
Then the wind sheer had to be considered as well. An unprotected
person traveling at 120 miles per hour wouldn't last long; at the very
least their clothing would be torn to shreds. This was prevented by
casting the spell 'protection'. Normally, the spell simply slowed
physical attacks so that they were blunted. However, it also served
as a buffer to slow the wind down when it became brutal. It was an
effective if unorthodox use of the spell.
Of course, all of this preparation to run didn't necessarily mean he
was going to run away.
The truth was, Hank hated to run away, but he knew it was sometimes
necessary so that he could come back and fight again another day. He
wasn't wearing the red gloves and silver gauntlets with gigantic red
rubies out of some sort of misguided fashion statement; the gloves
themselves were gloves of "Giant Strength", and the silver trinkets
given to him by Link could lift gigantic boulders by themselves.
These two items combined was another deadly yet effective combination
of magical items scattered about the many realms of possibilities.
Aside from the myriad number of magical items he had acquired over the
years, Hank also had an enormous store of spells filed away in his
mind, ready to be cast at a moments notice. These were one of his
greatest resources, for if he was separated from his many bags of
tricks, he always had a full deck of cards up his proverbial sleeve in
case of emergency.
Even after all these magical preparations, Hank still had a small
cache of guns he could fall back on in an emergency, even though he
has run out of ammunition for most of them. Guns and swords were the
only things that seemed to work right in the Demon World, so he
usually conserved his ammunition for when he most needed it. Still,
he had some pretty powerful weapons held in reserve.
Hank smiled grimly to himself as he stood up, as he finished preparing
for whatever he would encounter. "Once more into the breach," quipped
the young man with a fatalistic shrug as he traveled out of the
alleyway and into the unknown.
Hank's first impression was a colorful one. The city was littered
from one end to another with streamers hanging over the streets,
bearing colorful flags of every nation. Everywhere Hank could see
people were happy and filled with energy.
"Must be some sort of celebration," mused the young man. He gave a
small laugh at his own statement. "Tch, it wouldn't take a genius to
figure that out."
Hank paused as the sound of sirens reached his ears. He turned about
just in time to see a convoy of police motorcycles escorting a limo.
Two men next to Hank began to talk amongst themselves.
"The big-shots making their grand entrance." One man sniffed.
"Captain Gloval doesn't seem to be too happy about it." The other man
remarked.
Upon closer inspection of the limo, Hank could indeed see that a naval
captain was sitting uncomfortably next to some sort of politician.
Poor guy.
Okay, now's the time to ask the stupid questions, and get a bearing on
this place.
"Who's Captain Gloval?"
The two men turned to answer the young man, but instead opted to stare
openly at the stranger's apparel.
"I'm new in town," said Hank, as if that explained everything. He was
lucky the cloak covered everything above the knees.
One of the men nodded, as if it were normal for visitors to his city
to be wearing long green cloaks and furred boots. The other was still
a bit suspicious.
"Captain Gloval is the person who is going to command the Super
Dimensional Fortress Macross," said the less suspicious of the two.
"Ah." Hank still didn't know what they were talking about, but he
figured he asked enough stupid questions for one day. Besides, they
way the man spoke of this 'Macross' thing, it sounded like everyone
should already know about it. "Thank you for your time."
As Hank turned away from the men, a large object in the distance
caught his eye. The young man was so awed by the sheer size of the
thing, he forgot that other people might be around, and immediately
jumped to a nearby roof for a better look. Gasps of shock and
surprise as he leapt twelve stories easily were ignored by the man as
he gazed upon one of the most impressive sights he had ever seen in
his many years of journeying. From his position on the rooftop, Hank
could only see the prow of the massive machine, so he leapt up three
hundred feet in the air to get a better look. The view from above was
even more spectacular with the large space-faring vessel stretched out
before him. It was mind-boggling when you compared the size of the
ship to the surrounding buildings.
"Gust," muttered Hank as he landed lightly on the rooftop with the aid
of some basic elemental wind magic to break his fall. His cloak
billowed up around him as the magic was summoned. That particular
spell was normally used to push people around, and not much else; Hank
had adapted to using it to change his direction in mid-jump.
Something interesting was bound to happen soon, with that sort of
hardware lying around. No doubt some kind of attack. The Doors
always seemed to drop Hank off in the middle of Interesting Times and
there was hardly ever a dull moment.
In celebration of the current dull moment, Hank sat himself down on
the edge of the roof, and proceeded to watch the aerial acrobatics
performed by the local air force. He was confident that he wouldn't
have to go looking for adventure; adventure would find him.
--
Captain Gloval was bored. He hated this part of the job. Standing
around at functions, giving speeches and the like, trying to look
pretty for the people; basically, Gloval hated all aspects of
politics. He knew it was part of the job--no officer could escape the
need to be politic at least once and a while--but he hated it all the
same. His mind drifted as the slimy politician droned on about how
wonderful the Macross Fortress project was, and he wondered how his
crew was holding up in preparation for their maiden voyage. He had
begged the navy to give him a more experienced crew, but they replied
he would have plenty of time to break in a new one, one that was
trained for the new robotechnology.
Gloval was interrupted in his ponderings by a liaison officer. The
liaison cupped his hand to Gloval's ear and said, "Excuse me, sir:
urgent message from the space monitoring station. A strange flash of
light and an explosion, tremendous radiation readings, accompanied by
irregularities in solar gravitational fields."
The Captain's agile mind quickly picked up on the significance of that
report. "The same sort of thing happened ten years ago. You know
what happened then, don't you?"
The aid, trying to conceal his fear, nodded. "That's when the alien
ship arrived!"
"Better check it out," said Gloval as he led the way toward the bridge
of his new ship.
Gloval couldn't help but feel apprehension at this news. Sure, it was
great to get away from the speeches, but he couldn't help but feel
that something much worse was about to happen.
A few moments after the captain left, the politician on the stage
became extremely embarrassed when he tried to call Captain Gloval up
to make a speech.
--
Hank had enjoyed the little air show immensely. Some sort of rouge
hot shot pilot had flown in and messed around with the military pilots
who were performing. All in all, it was good for a laugh.
Now Hank was feeling the wonderful sensation of boredom. He didn't
really have to do anything right now, and he wasn't very hungry. This
unusual yet highly sought-out sensation was a great joy for him, since
he hardly ever got to be bored.
Movement from the vessel in front of Hank caught his attention. The
Fortress split the entire front of itself in two.
Hank's eyes widened in shock. "Unless I miss my guess... That's an
energy build-up." The young man paused for a second, mulling over
this new piece of information. "If that thing is building up energy
like that, it must be one helluva cannon."
Hank once more considered silently. It was around this time that the
young man realized he was sitting directly in front of the largest
weapon of mass destruction he had ever seen.
"Shit!"
Leaping down from the rooftop, Hank ran to the side of where he
predicted the blast would occur. Just in time, as behind him a huge
beam of energy lanced from the starship. The beam itself never
touched the building; however, the resulting shockwave from the
massive weapon destroyed the building he had occupied as if it was
made of tissue paper, and continued on to outer space.
"Great, just great. Something is attacking." Hank didn't believe
that anyone would fire something like that off just to impress a few
civilians. Therefore, the next logical step was that it was shooting
at the enemy. Whoever or whatever that enemy was.
He started running at a normal pace toward the machine that had just
fired, to see if he could help.
As Hank ran, his suspicions proved correct: air raid claxons began
wailing. Moments later, a voice was broadcast over the entire city.
"Enemy forces approaching in sector four, one, two!"
The young man leapt on top of another nearby tall building, to see if
there was anything he could do against the invading forces. Below
him, he could hear the military evacuating the civilians to nearby
shelters in the mountains. He idly noted the direction the shelters
were located for future reference.
"Okay, let's review for those watching at home," Hank muttered to
himself. He liked to narrate his own story, something of a habit he
picked up over the last four years of lonely travel. "I've just been
through five different magic worlds without hitting a high tech one.
This means I'm fully stocked on magic potions and the like, while
dangerously low on advanced weaponry. So I start off with a few magic
spells, see if that helps; if not, I switch to my newly acquired Big
Assed Sword and hope it can chop through steel."
A barrage of missiles began falling from the sky. The once blue sky
was darkened by the sheer number of them, small comets hurrying
downward toward earth and the eventual destruction of the creatures
that lived down there. Counter-measures were launched from nearby
silos, but it wasn't nearly enough to stop all of the deadly armament.
"I call upon the power of the Heavens to strike down my foes!
Lightning!" cried out Hank as he unleashed one of his few wide-range
spells at the missiles landing near his position. Bolts of lightning
lanced out from his fingertips in every direction, detonating all of
the warheads within a thousand foot radius harmlessly in the air. It
was the widest he could stretch his attack. Unfortunately, it wasn't
nearly enough as missiles on the other side of the city and out of
Hank's range still struck the ground, causing some serious damage.
"Dammit! And those fighters are too high up for me to assist,"
grumbled Hank as he watched the aerial battle above him. Not that his
lightning attacks would probably do much against those huge mecha. He
wasn't sure he could create a big enough lightning bolt to take down
something that size. The only spells he was sure would destroy them
were so destructive he didn't dare use them this close to a city.
One of the fighter planes broke off from the melee and began tumbling
downward, out of control. It looked hopeless as the fighter tried in
vain to correct his unwanted decent. Right before he hit the ground,
the fighter seemed to undergo some kind of transformation. Hank
couldn't get a good look at it, as just as the plane was beginning to
transform, it crashed through several buildings.
Hank eyed the area where the fighter had crashed dispassionately.
"Eh, hope the guy didn't kill any civilians." The young man turned to
scan the horizon carefully. "There's got to be a second wave of these
things. Maybe this time they'll get close enough for me to attack."
For a long time, Hank waited, eyes continually scanning the area
around him. His diligence was paid off as he spotted the next wave of
fighters peeking out just behind a hill. There was one thing wrong
with this situation, though.
"Why aren't they attacking?" muttered Hank in confusion. "Must be
waiting for something. But what...?"
On instinct, Hank looked up. A point in the sky had turned a darker
blue than the rest of it.
"Oh shit. Orbital bombardment."
The young mage never had time to erect a shield before the area around
him was completely annihilated. The building he was standing on was
cut out from underneath him before he could react, and he fell
helplessly through a crack on the roof before the rest of the building
collapsed on top of him, killing him instantly.
--
The End
--
Ha! My first complete SI!
Here's a bit of an extra for those who actually read this far:
Otaku Discarded
Originally I had planned Otaku Muyo to be much closer to Undocumented
Features, in which much of the action took place on the college
campus. This was trashed except as a plot device to get my character
from one world to the next. The original story actually started with
an idea that someone from the Silver Millennium found a journal of
Tannim's written specifically to them. Each chapter was going to open
up and close with a journal entry.
However, much of my earlier ideas were discarded as fairly useless
since they didn't add much to the story in terms of plot or flavor.
Disclaimer: Tannim Murphy is a character that I made up and belongs
to me. Any resemblance to me is purely intentional. The college I
attend doesn't really matter. It doesn't have any sort of interesting
background whatsoever, and cannot or will not transform into a giant
mecha. Believe me, I've tried. Sailor Moon does not belong to me,
and I have no real right to do this... but I'm doing it anyway.
--
"Go forth fireball! Burn down my foe!
"Shyeah, right. Counterspell."
"Dammit, I hate control blue!"
"Well, I hate red-black destruction decks, so we're even."
"Fine then. Well, I summon to my side FESTERING GOBLIN!"
"Hooray for Uncle Fester!" someone cheered from the sidelines.
"And after that, I shall end my turn."
"Cool, gimme a sec, food break."
'I have got to start eating right,' thought Tannim for the umpteenth
time. His current meal, consisting of pepperoni pizza, was quite
tasty despite the fact that its nutritional value was non-existent.
This, of course, made it a lot more enjoyable to eat.
He munched contently on the slice as he considered his next move.
Magic: The Gathering required not only a considerable amount of luck,
but brains to play your cards right. Especially for blue; its
reputation as the mental of the colors was not unfounded, and many a
player has given up on the color all together out of frustration. It
required vast amounts of strategy and planning, and if you wasted a
single card in a frivolous moment, that was it, game over for you.
But Tannim had won many games by keeping his head cool in even the
direst situations. That he has been damn lucky at drawing the cards
he has needed has helped quite a bit as well.
-beep- -beep- -beep- -beep- -beep- -beep-
The watch alarm was turned off. "Awww, so sorry we have to postpone
your handing of your own ass," Zack spoke as he gathered his cards.
"But I've got to get to class."
"A likely story. I'd have had you in two turns."
"Next time, we shall prove who is worthy!" Zack exclaimed over his
shoulder as he left.
"There can be only one!" The reply reached the departing just as he
hit the doors. Tannim's voice lowered so that only those in the
immediate area could hear. "Damn, I love that man."
This provoked several snickers, but otherwise was accepted as normal
behavior for this crowd.
--
Another day, another dollar is how the saying usually goes. For
Tannim, he had a slight variation.
"Another day, another couple episodes of Ah! Megami-sama watched."
The thought floated across Tannim's mind. "Damn I love the TV show
version."
He watched anime rather than actually pay any sort of attention to his
incredibly boring General Education teachers. They basically taught
stuff that, if you paid any sort of attention in High School, you
would understand the basics of it. Since Tannim had been an avid
reader, he also had the basics of a lot of different subjects... and
found he could get A's and B's despite not paying any sort of
attention during class hours. He just read the books, and let his
wandering mind latch onto information that he thought might be useful
while the rest of his attention was spent watching anime.
ADD can be advantageous if applied correctly, Ritalin be damned.
Basically what it boiled down to was the near-perfect slacker-scheme.
He goofed off in class while still passing and that kept him sane.
Thank the Lord for laptops. He didn't understand why he didn't see
more students have and use one. The reason might be because he went
to a community college.
"All right class, for our first big project, I want you to keep
journals. Each should have at least five entries, per week, for a
total of four weeks until your midterms. Length shouldn't be a
factor, but please try to keep your entries complete. No 'today
sucked, wish school would blow up' entries." This elicited a few
chuckles from the otherwise bored students.
A thought occurred, and Tannim raised a hand. "Can we give our
journal names, like we're writing to someone else?"
"Certainly. The important thing is that you get into the habit and
learn to dissect your feelings about the events of the day."
"A journal, huh?" His thoughts were still on the class project. He
was dreading it because all his other attempts at keeping a journal
for school had ended disastrously: he'd never know what to write, or
would simply forget to do the assignment at all.
Then of course there was the name. This is what Tannim had been
thinking about most.
Ever since he could remember, he had a habit of naming things after
stuff he'd read about in books. He attributed it to the fact that he
wasn't very imaginative. Now that he was into anime, he had a whole
slew of situations and characters he could steal names from. But
which one should he use?
Well, he had been on a Sailor Moon fanfiction kick lately. Re-reading
the entire "Nuke 'Em 'Till They Glow!" series probably didn't help
matters.
"So basically, it's down to which Sailor I want to write to," Tannim
smirked to himself. "That's going to be a tough choice." He
brightened as he spotted a set of dice nearby. "I'll let fate decide
for me!" He cheerfully proclaimed.
Tannim picked out an eight-sided die necessary to many tabletop RPGs.
"Hmm, I think I'll include all the inners, Setsuna, Michiru, and
Hotaru." He didn't relish the thought of writing to Haruka. She was
way too butch for his tastes.
He rolled.
"Hey, an eight! Hotaru it is!"
--
The Future...
"There's nothing out here, Luna."
"Are you sure, Saturn? Pluto was very definite about the disturbance.
Something about tachyons flooding the area."
"Well, the only thing floating here is me. Wait," Hotaru paused as
something moved between her and the sun. It was small, she doubted
she would have seen it if she hadn't been looking in the right
direction. "Found something."
"What is it?"
Hotaru grasped the object, and flipped it over a few times. "It's...
a book."
"A book? Of magic?"
"No, it's more like a notebook. It looks really old. Like, from
around the time we were born."
"The twentieth century? But how?" Luna muttered to herself in
confusion.
"Don't know. I'm bringing it in for analysis."
Incredibly, the journal appeared none the worse for wear from its
jaunt in space. During the flight back, Hotaru had tried to read what
was written, but the language wasn't one she was familiar with. It
seemed familiar, but she just couldn't place it.
Several thousand years of living tends to degrade the long term
memory. The earlier centuries were starting to blur together.
She shrugged. Mercury will probably love studying the thing.
--
Ami Mizuno flipped open the book and grinned as she looked up at
Hotaru. "It's English! This was one of the most popular languages of
the planet when we were kids. Don't you remember?"
"Well, now that you mention it, I don't think I did very well in that
class." Hotaru grimaced over the faint memory. "Who'd write in
English, anyways?"
"If Pluto's involved, the more appropriate question would be 'when.'"
Ami gave a sly smile. "I'm just glad I've kept up with my English
studies." It was only when she became an immortal did Mercury finally
find enough time to read as much as she wanted to.
Her sharp intake of breath after mere moments of study did not go
unnoticed.
"What's wrong, Mercury?"
"Hotaru..." Ami looked up with a bit of fear in her eyes. "This is
written... to you."
"What!" Hotaru shrieked in response.
"I-I don't know how! But there's no mistake, it lists your name right
here!"
"Maybe it's talking about another Hotaru?" Saturn asked hopefully.
Ami simply turned the book around and showed her the inside of the
cover. What Hotaru had missed by looking only at the middle of the
book was a picture of her, dressed in fuku and with her Silence Glaive
at fourteen years old.
Mercury thought that Saturn reacted remarkably well as she attempted
to catch the fainting Senshi.
--
When Saturn woke up Ami graciously provided translated texts via the
Mercury computer and let Hotaru read them alone. Mercury kept herself
in the dark on purpose, trusting Hotaru would share the materials when
ready.
While Saturn was busy reading, Ami contacted the rest of the inner and
outer Senshi, and gathered them together outside Hotaru's room to
explain the situation. In the middle of this explanation, the door
opened and Saturn stumbled out of the room.
Ami eyed Hotaru.
Hotaru eyed Ami.
"So? What was it--?"
Mercury never got to finish her question as Hotaru burst into tears.
"I've got a boyfriend and I don't even know when he lives!" she cried.
The baffled Senshi looked at one another.
Saturn couldn't speak; she simply shoved the translated pages at the
assembled group and left. The door closed shut behind her.
They read.
--
Dear Hotaru,
How are you? I hope the Silver Millennium is treating you right.
Today was one of the strangest days of my life. Have you ever had one
of those days where you just wanted to crawl under a rock and hide?
It was kinda like that, only I probably would have used the rock to
bash myself upside the head. It all started when I got to work this
morning...
--
"Heya, boss."
"Hey Tannim!" The cheerful reply halted the young boy in his tracks.
"What's wrong, boss? You're never this cheerful in the morning." The
usual response was a reflexive 'beat it kid' his boss had acquired
after long years of working closely with children. He wasn't a bad
man (now), but no one ever accused Mr. Gunter of being nice.
"Why, we've gone out of business!" The scowl that had been
permanently fixed on his face ever since Tannim had known him was
gone. Gunter would normally have been into a bitter tirade about kids
about now, but he was too busy taking whatever money was left in the
registrar.
"What! How?"
"You'd best not be knowing the reason. It's for your own safety, you
understand. However, I'm going to retire in the Bahamas!" Gunter,
former store owner, put on a hat and picked up a previously unnoticed
briefcase. "So long, suckers!"
Tannim glared at the man's retreating back, but the look didn't have
much heat in it. It had been a sweet job while it lasted. "What's
going to happen to the store?"
"Don't care!" The door slammed shut behind him.
Tannim looked around in silence for a few moments. "Well great, now
what?" It took Tannim a few moments for the reality of the situation
to sink in. "Hey! That bastard hasn't paid me for last week!"
--
Bonus: What if Skuld had been sent to grant Tannim a wish?
--
"Oh? Are you here to grant me a wish?"
"No! I'm here to figure out what bug in the system allowed--" Skuld
was interrupted in mid-sentence.
"I wish I had regenerative abilities that made me nigh-immortal, in
which the only way for me to truly die is to be subjected to void and
thrust into a star." He paused for a moment and grinned. "Yep,
that's the one. Never thought I'd actually get a chance to use it."
"Noooo! We were done! The game was OVER!" Skuld cried. "Why did you
have to start it up again with an immortality wish?"
"Huh?"
"The Ultimate System doesn't 'magically bestow' power, it takes all of
the different variables in reality and points them towards the wish's
desired endpoint. The game was set in place so that you'd have a
great 'chance' at achieving immortality. Once it was over, if you won
(which you're supposed to do, since the Ultimate Force is helping you)
your wish would finally be fulfilled. But until then, you've got to
start working for it. As of now you and other immortals like you will
begin to fight. After all, there can be only One."
Tannim was speechless for a solid minute. "Aw, man! I hated the
Highlander!"
--
Author's Notes: Thanks for reading! I like contact with people, so
feel free to respond however you like.