"Hit or Miss"
by Two-faced
~*~*~
The rating has been upped due to story's colorful descriptions. You have been warned. Thank you for the reviews. Comments are at the end of the story. Enjoy.
~*~*~
Chapter two: 'Going Bananas'; To feel cooped up or driven to distraction; to claim one is going out of one's mind because of the situation.
Jack continued to stare at his slightly younger counterpart. The other man merely smiled, his sips turning into quaffs. The Barkeeper seemed to be engaged in a conversation with a fellow alien customer.
Had he really heard that? It was very long time since someone had spoken to him in his native tongue. "Ano...Mou ichido itte kudasai." He asked the strange man. He had to make sure.
"Soto wa sonna ni samui desu ka?" the man replied instead.
Of course it was still cold outside. Was this guy numb or something? Jack was still rather confused, though. "Mou ichido, onegai."
"Soto wa sonna ni samui da." The man repeated.
"Motto yukkuri itte kudasai."
"So-to. Wa. So-na. Ni. Samui. Da." He said again, slowly.
Jack looked incredulously at him.
"Nihongo ga dekimasu ka?" he asked after a small period of silence.
"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" the srtanger answered, albeit he did not seem offended. If anything, his lips curled into a wry grin.
"I am sorry. It has been ages since I have heard anyone speak my launguage. It sounds nearly alien to me."
"So it's true then," The man shifted his weight unto the table. "what they say about you."
"What is?"
"That you're from the past and shit. Nihongo isn't a common language, y'know. Practically extinct if you're not from Zoiyouka."
"Zoiyouka...?"
"Still basically nihongo, but massively corrupted. I was speaking fuckin' old tongue back there, pardon my french."
Jack looked at him puzzledly. "You were not speaking french."
"It's a term." said the other, fidgeting with his empty glass. "Y'know, like 'hang loose' or 'Rain or Shine'. You get my drift?"
Jack was about to comment that he did not understand this 'drift', but decided against that. There were a lot of things in this world he did not understand, and English idioms were one of them. Just who the hell was this person?
The aformentioned person was yawning, scratching a portion of his lower back. He turned to the barkeeper, saying "Yo pops!" After succesfully grabbing the elder alien's attention he continued, "Can I get Hamashi back yet?"
"Hell no! I'm forever banning that...that thing! Inside my inn."
"But I miss my baby!" He whined, elongating the vowels in the last word, making it sound like baaaaaayyybeeee. His half-hearted attempt to annoy the barkeeper failed to work.
"You can get get it back when you get the hell out of here. I'm starting to get sick of you!"
The other man groaned, burying his head into his folded arms. "Did they send you a package yet? Paper bag, red string."
"No."
Another groan. "Well I'm staring to get sick of camping here too. I'm not some goddamn delivery boy. You sure?"
"Do I look like a postal office?" The barkeep tossed back, tenticles akimbo.
"You look postal." The strange man offered. The barkeep made a resigned gesture and headed inside the kitchen.
...At the same time, five or so bounty hunters entered the inn looking mighty pissed.
"Which one of you runts is Samurai Jack?!" one of the porkier ones demanded. He was met with cold silence from either of the two japanese-looking individuals.
Two?
One soggy samurai, and another sleepy looking one.He blinked. He rubbed his eyes. He was still seeing double. He looked at his fellow hunters. They seemed to be doing the same thing. They were all dumbfounded.
"I thinks it one of 'em whachamacallit...enchantments." whispered a simpleton lizard to the obese leader. The rest, who were all mechanical, agreed, nodding their heads repeatedly.
Both men held perfectly still. Both saying nothing. Both calculating. Both with a dangerous hint of a glare in their eyes.
The lizard attempted to escape quietly, but the Porky had gotten hold of his neck and was wringing the poor reptile. "It's MAGIC!" It screamed, wriggling in his hands.
"It's a goddamn trick I tells ye! KILL 'EM BOTH!!" screamed the leader, raising his rifle into the air.
It happened all of a sudden. Jack rolled to the left, while the other sprinted to the right, diving behind a table. Bullets smashed into glass and woodwork Sloppy, but efficient. The sound deafening, but curiously exciting. Alcohol spilling everywhere, its scent filling the room. Outside, the rain blasted down like nobody's business.
Jack went for the blue metal-freak, one slice to the leg, then he kicked him in the middle, thrusting him down into the stone floor. On the other side of the room, he could see the stranger break off the legs of a table, using them as makeshift clubs. He tested it on a nearby reptillian. It worked.
"I'll start with the fleshy ones. Go for the machines!" He said to Jack while twisting the lizard's hand, making him drop his stun-gun.
Jack did so. Went for two of them. Cut them clean in half. You know, the kind of cut that doesn't bleed? That clean. Samurai magic, I tell you.
The other dude didn't make a bad fighter either. He quickly finished off Porky, then in a cruel sort of way, smashed both clubs against the side of his head and then shoved them against his snout.
Now, Old Pops wasn't deaf. He knew there was going to be trouble the moment he heard those hunters come in. Muddy fucking boots and all. He wished he were. Damn noise was getting to him. Lesee, to help or not to help. Help of course, but who? Some stranger with a an insanely big price on his head, Or a couple of insane bounty hunters? Maybe he'd just kill all of them--not only would it give him peace, but he'd be filthy, stinking rich too. Where'd he put those pistols again?
Most of them were down. There was one mechanical schmuck left, the one with its leg sawed off. Robots don't usually look scared, but this one looked damn well terrified. It scrambled off, screaming for its mother.
"I did not think robots had mothers." wondered Jack aloud. The other man sniggered.
"They'll be back." he said, stretching.
They heard a resounding boom outside. The house shook.
"Too soon."
Both men ran frantically to windows, and tore off the curtains.
It was one of those damned giant mechas. The little bastard had called in reinforcements.
"Jesus fucking christ." the stranger muttered.
The dishevelled man turned and stormed into the kitchen. Then he ran back in again.
"Whoah! Take it easy, pops!"
Apparantly, Old Pops had found his guns. One for eash tenticle. All seven of them. "Don't 'pops' me, boy. Now hold still so this old man'll have a clear shot at your dick."
"That's my head, pops."
"I know, dickhead."
"Ha ha. You're killing me."
"Not yet."
"Well before you do, take a good look out the window."
"Indeed, a mechanical monstrosity is rapidly approaching your inn." Jack added helpfully.
And just like that, the old barkeep dropped his seven colt 45's. "Great mother Teresita..." he sobbed. "I'm ruined!"
"Hey. Chin up, old timer. It's us they're looking for." The man placed a consoling hand on the alien's shoulder...I think. "We'll lead them away from the inn."
What do you mean 'us'? said Jack in the back of his head. But he had a good heart. He'd help someone in need, as usual. Gullible idiot.
"Sounds crazy enough to work!" said the barkeep animatedly. (Although strawberry man could have said 'let's all pretend to be proffesional male prostitues and sell oursleves to the black market and make shitloads of pornographic material!', and he'd still say the same thing. A curious thing alien 'toons are.)
"Great! Oh, another thing..." said the man, "...Can I have Hamashi back?"
"Oh, sure. It's in the back.Can't miss it."the barkeeper replied, looking dazed.
The man grinned all the way to the cellar. He emerged, holding a long wing-shaped object wrapped in bandages possesively in his hands. The look on his face showed pure bliss. Jack's eyebrow went into orbit.
The mech was nearly upon them as they sprinted towards the forest. It shot cannons sporadically, some of them exploding on the Turquiose Dragon. Jack winced, picking up the pace. The man behind him was grinning from ear to ear.
The rain came down harder than ever. Puddles of water reflected the flashes of light coming from lightning and random weaponfire. But amidst the howling storm, you could just make out the sounds of taunting laughter and frustrated shooting.
To be continued...
~*~*~
Notes from the Author.
The last chapter was chock full of annoying typographical errors.I will try to avoid them in the future. I'm using note pad on my laptop, so don't tell me to check my spellchecker.
Anyway, to the people who reviewed:
Xianji ~ Thank you, I will take my sweet time.
ZephyrSamba ~ Thanks, I had written this story out of nowhere, but I liked how it came out, so I posted it.
TurtleNinja ~ Who did you think it was, pray tell? I'm really curious. My japanese isn't that perfect, but yes, that's basically what he said. I wasn't able to read your fanfics, yet. I'll take a look at them when I've got time.
by Two-faced
~*~*~
The rating has been upped due to story's colorful descriptions. You have been warned. Thank you for the reviews. Comments are at the end of the story. Enjoy.
~*~*~
Chapter two: 'Going Bananas'; To feel cooped up or driven to distraction; to claim one is going out of one's mind because of the situation.
Jack continued to stare at his slightly younger counterpart. The other man merely smiled, his sips turning into quaffs. The Barkeeper seemed to be engaged in a conversation with a fellow alien customer.
Had he really heard that? It was very long time since someone had spoken to him in his native tongue. "Ano...Mou ichido itte kudasai." He asked the strange man. He had to make sure.
"Soto wa sonna ni samui desu ka?" the man replied instead.
Of course it was still cold outside. Was this guy numb or something? Jack was still rather confused, though. "Mou ichido, onegai."
"Soto wa sonna ni samui da." The man repeated.
"Motto yukkuri itte kudasai."
"So-to. Wa. So-na. Ni. Samui. Da." He said again, slowly.
Jack looked incredulously at him.
"Nihongo ga dekimasu ka?" he asked after a small period of silence.
"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" the srtanger answered, albeit he did not seem offended. If anything, his lips curled into a wry grin.
"I am sorry. It has been ages since I have heard anyone speak my launguage. It sounds nearly alien to me."
"So it's true then," The man shifted his weight unto the table. "what they say about you."
"What is?"
"That you're from the past and shit. Nihongo isn't a common language, y'know. Practically extinct if you're not from Zoiyouka."
"Zoiyouka...?"
"Still basically nihongo, but massively corrupted. I was speaking fuckin' old tongue back there, pardon my french."
Jack looked at him puzzledly. "You were not speaking french."
"It's a term." said the other, fidgeting with his empty glass. "Y'know, like 'hang loose' or 'Rain or Shine'. You get my drift?"
Jack was about to comment that he did not understand this 'drift', but decided against that. There were a lot of things in this world he did not understand, and English idioms were one of them. Just who the hell was this person?
The aformentioned person was yawning, scratching a portion of his lower back. He turned to the barkeeper, saying "Yo pops!" After succesfully grabbing the elder alien's attention he continued, "Can I get Hamashi back yet?"
"Hell no! I'm forever banning that...that thing! Inside my inn."
"But I miss my baby!" He whined, elongating the vowels in the last word, making it sound like baaaaaayyybeeee. His half-hearted attempt to annoy the barkeeper failed to work.
"You can get get it back when you get the hell out of here. I'm starting to get sick of you!"
The other man groaned, burying his head into his folded arms. "Did they send you a package yet? Paper bag, red string."
"No."
Another groan. "Well I'm staring to get sick of camping here too. I'm not some goddamn delivery boy. You sure?"
"Do I look like a postal office?" The barkeep tossed back, tenticles akimbo.
"You look postal." The strange man offered. The barkeep made a resigned gesture and headed inside the kitchen.
...At the same time, five or so bounty hunters entered the inn looking mighty pissed.
"Which one of you runts is Samurai Jack?!" one of the porkier ones demanded. He was met with cold silence from either of the two japanese-looking individuals.
Two?
One soggy samurai, and another sleepy looking one.He blinked. He rubbed his eyes. He was still seeing double. He looked at his fellow hunters. They seemed to be doing the same thing. They were all dumbfounded.
"I thinks it one of 'em whachamacallit...enchantments." whispered a simpleton lizard to the obese leader. The rest, who were all mechanical, agreed, nodding their heads repeatedly.
Both men held perfectly still. Both saying nothing. Both calculating. Both with a dangerous hint of a glare in their eyes.
The lizard attempted to escape quietly, but the Porky had gotten hold of his neck and was wringing the poor reptile. "It's MAGIC!" It screamed, wriggling in his hands.
"It's a goddamn trick I tells ye! KILL 'EM BOTH!!" screamed the leader, raising his rifle into the air.
It happened all of a sudden. Jack rolled to the left, while the other sprinted to the right, diving behind a table. Bullets smashed into glass and woodwork Sloppy, but efficient. The sound deafening, but curiously exciting. Alcohol spilling everywhere, its scent filling the room. Outside, the rain blasted down like nobody's business.
Jack went for the blue metal-freak, one slice to the leg, then he kicked him in the middle, thrusting him down into the stone floor. On the other side of the room, he could see the stranger break off the legs of a table, using them as makeshift clubs. He tested it on a nearby reptillian. It worked.
"I'll start with the fleshy ones. Go for the machines!" He said to Jack while twisting the lizard's hand, making him drop his stun-gun.
Jack did so. Went for two of them. Cut them clean in half. You know, the kind of cut that doesn't bleed? That clean. Samurai magic, I tell you.
The other dude didn't make a bad fighter either. He quickly finished off Porky, then in a cruel sort of way, smashed both clubs against the side of his head and then shoved them against his snout.
Now, Old Pops wasn't deaf. He knew there was going to be trouble the moment he heard those hunters come in. Muddy fucking boots and all. He wished he were. Damn noise was getting to him. Lesee, to help or not to help. Help of course, but who? Some stranger with a an insanely big price on his head, Or a couple of insane bounty hunters? Maybe he'd just kill all of them--not only would it give him peace, but he'd be filthy, stinking rich too. Where'd he put those pistols again?
Most of them were down. There was one mechanical schmuck left, the one with its leg sawed off. Robots don't usually look scared, but this one looked damn well terrified. It scrambled off, screaming for its mother.
"I did not think robots had mothers." wondered Jack aloud. The other man sniggered.
"They'll be back." he said, stretching.
They heard a resounding boom outside. The house shook.
"Too soon."
Both men ran frantically to windows, and tore off the curtains.
It was one of those damned giant mechas. The little bastard had called in reinforcements.
"Jesus fucking christ." the stranger muttered.
The dishevelled man turned and stormed into the kitchen. Then he ran back in again.
"Whoah! Take it easy, pops!"
Apparantly, Old Pops had found his guns. One for eash tenticle. All seven of them. "Don't 'pops' me, boy. Now hold still so this old man'll have a clear shot at your dick."
"That's my head, pops."
"I know, dickhead."
"Ha ha. You're killing me."
"Not yet."
"Well before you do, take a good look out the window."
"Indeed, a mechanical monstrosity is rapidly approaching your inn." Jack added helpfully.
And just like that, the old barkeep dropped his seven colt 45's. "Great mother Teresita..." he sobbed. "I'm ruined!"
"Hey. Chin up, old timer. It's us they're looking for." The man placed a consoling hand on the alien's shoulder...I think. "We'll lead them away from the inn."
What do you mean 'us'? said Jack in the back of his head. But he had a good heart. He'd help someone in need, as usual. Gullible idiot.
"Sounds crazy enough to work!" said the barkeep animatedly. (Although strawberry man could have said 'let's all pretend to be proffesional male prostitues and sell oursleves to the black market and make shitloads of pornographic material!', and he'd still say the same thing. A curious thing alien 'toons are.)
"Great! Oh, another thing..." said the man, "...Can I have Hamashi back?"
"Oh, sure. It's in the back.Can't miss it."the barkeeper replied, looking dazed.
The man grinned all the way to the cellar. He emerged, holding a long wing-shaped object wrapped in bandages possesively in his hands. The look on his face showed pure bliss. Jack's eyebrow went into orbit.
The mech was nearly upon them as they sprinted towards the forest. It shot cannons sporadically, some of them exploding on the Turquiose Dragon. Jack winced, picking up the pace. The man behind him was grinning from ear to ear.
The rain came down harder than ever. Puddles of water reflected the flashes of light coming from lightning and random weaponfire. But amidst the howling storm, you could just make out the sounds of taunting laughter and frustrated shooting.
To be continued...
~*~*~
Notes from the Author.
The last chapter was chock full of annoying typographical errors.I will try to avoid them in the future. I'm using note pad on my laptop, so don't tell me to check my spellchecker.
Anyway, to the people who reviewed:
Xianji ~ Thank you, I will take my sweet time.
ZephyrSamba ~ Thanks, I had written this story out of nowhere, but I liked how it came out, so I posted it.
TurtleNinja ~ Who did you think it was, pray tell? I'm really curious. My japanese isn't that perfect, but yes, that's basically what he said. I wasn't able to read your fanfics, yet. I'll take a look at them when I've got time.