I don't own anything. Note. This is a rewrite, not a new chapter. See A/N.
Keitaro's Big Adventure
-Chapter One
Keitaro watched as the world spread out below him. Why was this always happening to him? He was so close to finally achieving his goals and then life had stepped in, in the form of a rather beautiful young samurai, and sent him flying yet again.
His musings were broken by a cry from below. "Right here! I'm open!" His eyes shot open and he saw his girlfriend standing below him, arms outstretched. He was heading right for her! Could this be it, he wondered as he drew ever closer to Naru. Yes! This was it! He was finally going to do it.
Then a white van pulled between the two of them. "God damn it," Keitaro grumbled in defeat. Some days, it really just wasn't worth getting out of bed. Or rather, for him, most days were like that.
(:ii:)
"Holy shit," Motoko gaped as she watched her landlord collide with the van. That had not been her intent. She wasn't sure what her intent had been, but that certainly wasn't it. The van swerved wildly, rising up onto two wheels. For a second, it appeared that the driver had regained control, but then the van flipped and barrel rolled several times before coming to a rest on the driver's side.
"Over did it a little, didn't you Samurai Girl?" Kanaki asked.
"I didn't mean to do that!" Motoko exclaimed, shooting an annoyed glance at the young goth behing her.
"Do you think Sempai is okay?"
"I'm sure he's fine, Shinobu," Motoko stated, assuring the young girl despite her doubts. Sure, Keitaro was amazingly resilient, but that had been overkill. Motoko took a step towards the van before jumping back and sliding into a fighting stance as the front passenger door burst open. A dark-haired man with young Caucasian features obscured by broken sunglasses climbed out slowly and promptly tumbled from the van to the ground. He dragged himself a little ways away before rolling onto his back.
"Ouch," he managed.
"Are. . .are you okay?" Motoko ventured as she relaxed slightly and stepped closer. The man ignored her and shuffled around for a moment before producing a lighter. He lit the crooked cigarette dangling from his lips and took a long drag on it, the tip glowing bright red in the late morning sun. He stared at the sky for a minute and a strange, harsh cough escaped his lips, then another, and another, the sound slowly turning from coughing to increasingly maniacal laughter as he sat up and plucked off his ruined sunglasses.
"Way to go Samurai Girl," Kanako deadpanned, "you drove him insane."
"That's right, you son of a bitch!" the man snapped suddenly, stabbing a finger at the overturned van. "I told you your driving would kill you one of these days. Now you're dead and I'm still here!" He broke off into more mad laughter.
"Woo! That was a bad one!" a new voice exclaimed. Motoko looked up to see a familiar looking man climb out of the van as well. "What did we hit?"
"No!" the other man cried. "Why won't you die, Noriyasu? What do I have to do, kill you with my own bare hands?"
"Seta!" Naru cried in shock. "What are you doing here?" Seta turned, brushing away the trickle of blood that obscured one of his eyes, and smiled at the young, auburn-haired woman as Sarah latched onto his leg with a loud cry of, "Papa!"
"Oh, hey Naru. You haven't seen Part-Timer around have you?"
"Try the back of your van," Kanako suggested dryly. Seta moved to the back of his van and opened its rear doors.
"Oh, there you are Part-Timer!" He dragged his unfortunate understudy from the wreckage of his vehicle. "Up you go, we have no time to waste. Now where's Greg?" He looked around and quickly spotted the man still sitting at Motoko's feet. "What are you doing over there?"
"I'm going to start killing you now," the man, Greg, stated slowly as he painfully climbed to his feet and hobbled towards the other two men. "Tell me when you're dead, okay?"
"What's this all about Seta?" Naru asked.
"I just need Part-Timer to help me out with something," Seta replied. "I'll see you girls later. You stay here, Sarah." With that Seta turned and set about across the Tokyo-U campus, dragging a barely-conscious Keitaro behind him and leaving the residents of the Hina Sou is shocked silence.
(:ii:)
"Here we are," Seta stated as he dug through his pockets and pulled out a large key ring. Keitaro stared sullenly at the suspiciously anonymous door before them.
"Seta, I really do have a class, right now."
"You already said that," Seta replied cheerfully. "Professor Matsumoto, right?"
"Right," Keitaro stated. "He doesn't tolerate tardiness."
"That's because he's overcompensating for the fact that he's a hack," Seta stated as he pushed the door open and led the way into the darkened room beyond. "Don't worry, once he hears that you're with me, he'll cave real quick."
"You'd better be right," Keitaro growled, uncharacteristically threatening. He hadn't wasted all those years trying to get into Tokyo-U only to fail because his mentor kidnapped him.
"He usually is, though it pains me to admit it," the third member of their little group comment. "Now, where the hell are we?"
"This is the archives for the archeology department," Seta stated as he finally hit the light switch. "It's where we keep items awaiting examination and most of our documentation."
"Oh, wow," Keitaro murmured in shock as he looked around massive room. There were row upon row of shelves and each shelf was nearly buried under massive wooden container crates.
"This place was originally a bomb shelter," Seta explained absently as he made his way over to a wall that was hidden behind a long row of filing cabinets, "built in secret in case the Americans decided to nuke Tokyo."
"Looks it," the man Keitaro didn't know commented, surveying his surroundings before glancing at Keitaro. "We haven't actually been introduced, have we?"
"No," Keitaro stated.
"I'm Greg Tyler," the man stated, holding out his hand.
"Keitaro Urashima," Keitaro returned as he shook the man's gloved hand, making a valiant effort not to wince at the pressure Greg's grip exerted before letting go.
"Greg's an old friend of mine," Seta stated.
"That's stretching the truth," Greg commented drolly. "Hey, what's that?" Keitaro turned and saw Greg pressed up against the side of a glass display case like a little kid at the zoo.
"That's a recent donation," Seta stated without even bothering to turn from the file cabinets he had started going through. "It was found on Tarawa in a Japanese bunker not too long ago." Keitaro moved to Greg's side and found that the case contained a single old rifle with a long, gangly scope mounted on top of it.
"What is it?"
"It's a Springfield M1903A1 with an Unertl eight power scope," Greg stated, his voice hushed as if he was speaking of a hallowed relic, "one of the best sniper rifles of World War Two. My dad used one in the Pacific. Actually, he fought on Tarawa."
"Cool," Keitaro stated. What else was he supposed to say? He turned back to his mentor and saw that the professor had moved to another set of cabinets.
"Leave it alone, Greg," Seta ordered. "It's doesn't even work anymore, at least I don't think so."
"It works." Keitaro turned and saw that Greg had somehow managed to extract the rifle from its glass case without the key and without breaking the panes. "The sniper even carved the scope's zero into the stock!"
"How did you do that?" Keitaro asked.
"Do what?" Greg asked as he checked the rifle. "Hey! Somebody left ammo here!" He dove into the desk the case had been sitting on. "M2 armor piercing! The cases aren't corroded at all, these are still live!"
"Give me a hand Part-Timer." Keitaro gratefully made his way over to his mentor. Greg's glee at playing with the weapon bordered on disturbing.
"What are we looking for?"
"A possible Rosetta Stone," Seta stated. "Ah ha!" He pulled a thick, leather-bound book out of one of the filing cabinets and moved to a table set up between two rows of shelves.
"Is that it?" Greg asked as he wandered over. He was wrapping the rifle in a long, white cloth.
"It is," Seta stated proudly as he reached into his pocket and dug out a dozen large photographs. "And put that rifle down. You're not stealing priceless artifacts from my department. Have a seat Keitaro." Keitaro sat and looked at the pictures. They were of a large stone covered in rows and rows of writing.
"What is this?"
"It's a massive tablet I found on my dig in Hawaii," Seta stated as he pulled a magnifying glass from somewhere as handed it to Keitaro. He pointed to two separate lines of writing. "This is Latin and these are Egyptian hieroglyphs. Do you recognize this fifth row?" Keitaro adjusted his glasses and squinted down at the picture through the magnifying glass. It took him a moment, but the answer left him even more confused. "They looked almost like the markings from the Pararakelse."
"Exactly!" Seta exclaimed as he produced a small, leather-bound notebook. "A language, need I remind you, that we have so far been unable to translate. This might be the key!" He opened the book to a page where he had already started translating the language.
"A Rosetta Stone," Keitaro whispered excitedly. There was a mechanic snapping behind them.
"I told you not to play with that rifle, Greg," Seta ordered, not bothering to turn around.
"I am sorry," a strange voice grated, "but I am not Greg and this is not a rifle." Keitaro turned and found himself staring down the barrel of a small, black pistol. "We will be taking that book Doctor Noriyasu."
(:ii:)
"There they are," Haruka Urashima commented as she pulled her van to a stop. "Why are they all just standing there and where's Keitaro?" She pushed the door open and took note of the wrecked van not too far away. "Oh God," she grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt a migraine coming.
"Isn't that Seta's van?" Mutsumi asked.
"Yeah," Kitsune agreed.
"If Seta's around here somewhere, I'd bet he's got Keitaro," Haruka stated.
"Why would Seta be here?" Kitsune wondered.
"Because he always shows up at the worst time," Haruka stated flatly, a vein pulsing in her temple. "Hand me the fax, would you Mutsumi?"
"Here you go!" Haruka took the troubling slip of paper and slowly approached the group of Hina Sou residents. "So, I see Seta's running around here, huh?"
"He and another man grabbed Keitaro and dragged him into Tokyo-U!" Naru exclaimed. "We were finally about to. . ."
"A man?" Haruka interrupted. In all her years traveling with Seta, they had only ever traveled with another man once for any real amount of time. "Did you catch a name?"
"Seta called him Greg," Motoko stated.
"Damn it," Haruka muttered. "The only way this situation could get worse."
"Do you know who he is?" Naru pressed.
"He's nothing but trouble," Haruka stated. Telling the truth there would only cause problems. "If he's with Seta, then something big must be happening. We have to find them."
(:ii:)
Seta glared at the men in front of him. "Who the hell are you people?"
"That doesn't matter," the leader stated in Russian-accented Japanese. "Wilhelm, find this Greg person. Be careful, he may be armed." None of the other four men answered. The leader frowned and glanced back over his shoulder. "Wilhelm?" He looked around quickly. "Where is Wilhelm?"
"He was just here," one of the men stated in English, a language Seta was quite fluent in.
"Find him!" the leader snapped. The four men broke up and moved down different aisles. The leader turned back to Seta and Keitaro. "Now, you will give me that book."
"Do you know what this is?" Seta demanded. "This is an amazing discovery! I don't know who you are, but you aren't stealing this from me."
"I care little for padding your résumé," the man stated. A loud bang rang out and the leader spun. "Who was that?" No one answered his cry. Seta smirked. Greg was very good at what he did. It was amazing someone had even managed to get a shot off. "How many men are out there?"
"Just Greg," Seta stated. The leader stared at him for a long moment before snatching up the book and pictures and disappearing out the door. Greg appeared a second later, a small cut on his cheek and a knife in his hand.
"Feel free to try and stop him any time!"
"I don't mess with armed men," Seta protested. "It's one of my rules; right below: 'get as much money up front as possible." Greg snorted and tore out of the room after the man, the rifle still slung across his back. It took a moment for the full implications of that to hit Seta.
"After him!"
(:ii:)
Keitaro puffed as he tried to keep up with Seta. The older man was in surprising shape for his age. Luckily, Keitaro was in amazing shape for his appearance. Living at the Hinata Sou had been good for one thing at least. Unfortunately for both, Greg and the man he was chasing were on a whole different playing field.
Seta and Keitaro burst out of the administration building and slammed to a halt, nearly tripping over the man they had been chasing.
Greg was kneeling at the top of the steps with the rifle in his hands. He was aiming at the man who had stolen the book. Keitaro could barely see him across the campus. "Don't kill him!" Seta wheezed. Greg growled something and shifted slightly. The rifle cracked and for a moment nothing happened. Then a tree branch fell out of a distant tree and struck the fleeing man.
"Happy?" Greg asked. The bastard wasn't even winded. He wrapped the rifle back up and slung it over his shoulder. "Where the hell did everyone go?"
"Classes probably," Seta stated. "Don't worry about the shot. Most of the people around here know me pretty well. They probably won't even think about it once they find out that I'm back."
"I'm not sure that's something I'd brag about," Greg stated as he began walking towards his victim.
"What the hell is going on?" Keitaro demanded, finally catching his breath.
"Don't know," Greg stated. He reached under his coat and pulled out a long knife. "I'm going to find out though." Seta promptly smacked him on the back of the head. "By asking very demanding questions of course," Greg added, sliding the knife back into its hiding place.
(:ii:)
"You know, that only had about a twenty percent chance of working," Greg whispered to the man walking beside him. "If the rifle's zero had been even slightly affected over the past couple decades, I would have missed."
"You always could hit the long odds," Seta countered. "I'd just rather you didn't go around killing people in public places, especially not in front of Keitaro."
"So, I shouldn't bring up the five dead guys in the archive?" Greg asked. Seta froze mid-step, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he just shook his head and took his place by Greg's side.
"No one ever goes down there anyway," he stated simply.
"Do you think he's okay?" Keitaro asked suddenly, interrupting their whispered conversation.
"He just had a gun pointed at you!" Greg exclaimed. Keitaro made a dismissive motion with his hand and pushed on a few steps ahead. "Kid's got heart, not a lot of common sense and absolutely no sense of self-preservation, but a lot of heart."
"His greatest strength," Seta stated proudly.
"I'd prefer a steady trigger finger," Greg grunted.
"He's not an assassin," Seta shot back.
"I only did that for a couple of years," Greg protested, "mainly because of the money though. . .and because I was bored. This was before the Army let people with tattooed hands in, or back in, in my case."
"You're a horrible, horrible person," Seta commented amiably.
"And you're an idiot," Greg returned just an amiably, "so, we're square." They reached the man and found Keitaro checking his pulse. He looked rather panicky.
"His breathing and pulse are erratic!" Greg kneeled and checked the man's pulse. Then he checked the man's pupils and his ears.
"He's fine."
"Really?" Keitaro asked.
"Definitely," Greg stated as he reached under the man's coat and withdrew a small, black pistol. "Check his ears. There's no blood coming out of his ears, so he's fine." Keitaro did check the man's ears.
"What's that clear fluid?"
"It just means he caught a good bump to the head," Greg stated as he straightened up, tucking the man's pistol into his belt. He caught Seta's eye and drew a finger across his throat. "What say we get out of here and leave this guy for the cops?"
"Sounds good," Seta stated as he reclaimed his book. "There's a café not too far from here."
"But my next class. . ." Keitaro began.
"Don't worry," Seta interrupted. "I'm a professor here too. I've got dirt on just about everybody. They won't hassle you."
"And you say I'm a horrible person," Greg commented.
"Extortion is nothing compared to murder," Seta shot back.
"Murder. . ." Keitaro stated.
"He's kidding!" Greg exclaimed, throwing an arm over Keitaro's shoulders and leading him away from the dying man. "Do I look like a murderer to you?" The younger man looked Greg up and down. "That's rhetorical. You answer it and I'll have to hurt you. Cool?"
"Cool," Keitaro squeaked.
-End
(:ii:)
-Author's notes. Dear god! A true sign of the apocalypse. Alright. Sorry for the wait. I'm not sure when exactly I stopped writing new chapters for this, but I has been years. As part of my going back and revamping a few old stories, I've decided this one needs a revamp.
For those of you that haven't been kicking around with me, the way I typically do a rewrite is to post the new first chapter so you yourself can dare to compare between old and new and agree that this needs a rewrite. When I post the next new chapter, I'll delete all the old chapters. This gives you time in case you wanted to save them for some ungodly reason. And, no, I have no idea when that update will come, but it won't be that long. . .probably.