Chapter 4: A Foul Plot is Afoot

Takumi Fujiwara (Initial D)

Kurz Weber (Full Metal Panic)

Yukimura Sanada (Samurai Deeper Kyo)

Spike/Faye Valentine/Ed (Cowboy Bebop)

Meanwhile, elsewhere in fanfic land, tactics were being implemented that could lead to the derailment of Arima's plan and utter chaos. 

The trunk of the white 8-6 open, Takumi tapped his foot impatiently. "Hurry up, Weber. I don't know why you're taking all this stuff anyway. We're going to be late."

Kurz piled in the last of the electronic equipment, and ruffled the young driver's hair. "Not with you driving, kid. Why do you think I asked you for a ride?"

"Is this everything?" Taki asked. Kurz opened the passenger door and nodded yes.

Taki slammed the trunk. "You know, Weber. Not everyone can ride with me. Are you sure you're man enough?"

Kurz laughed and the sound surrounded them. Takumi frowned. Kurz shut the door, reclined the seat, and covered his eyes with a hat. "Wake me when we get there, kid," he said, promptly starting to snore softly.

Takumi cursed under his breath, and started the car.

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Yukimura fell back on the sofa, exhausted, a stitch in his side, and sweat dripping down his back. "Beat that score, Asaba," he crowed. "I rock when it comes to DDR. I'm King and you're peasant."

Asaba hiked up his pants, brushed his hair out of his face, and jumped on the pad. "You speak too soon of that which you know nothing!" he declared. The pounding beat filled the room.

Yukimura drained the bottle of water and watched the teen's fluid movements. Hideaki had improved a lot since their last DDR competition. The game was as good as lost. He stood up. "You win. I'm gonna' grab a shower 'for we leave." Hideaki didn't even notice he'd left the room; he was so absorbed in tracking the green arrows with his feet.

"New high score!" Asaba cheered.

"You reek and we need to leave soon."

Hideaki glanced over at the doorway, wiping the sweat off his face with his tee-shirt. His heart stopped momentarily at the stunning woman in traditional Japanese dress, until his brain caught up with it. "Are you really wearing that?" he asked disgustedly.

Yukimura grinned. "I love the expression on your face when you see me in this. It's priceless."

Hideaki pushed by him. "I gotta' shower or we're gonna' be late. Make yourself useful and pack the sake. You know Arima isn't gonna' be serving any."

"That child is too straight laced," Yukimura observed as Hideaki moved for the shower, stripping off his stinking shirt as he went.

"Yeah, but ya' gotta' love him." Asaba said, ducking into the bathroom.

Yukimura shook his head.

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"I'm not going, Faye!" Spike said loudly, disengaging himself from the entanglement of arms and legs trying to persuade him to do something he'd already decided was a waste of time.

Faye let him go, pouting. Her eyes fell on a stack of cards on the table inside the Bebop. She shuffled them like a pro.

"Let fate decide, buddy," she said. "One hand?"

Spike flipped the chair around and leaned on the back watching the cards whiz in her hands. "Fate?" he asked, his face in his hands. Its sure thing, if Faye's involved, he thought. Her gambling luck is the worse. I'll let her cut the cards and she'll feel better about my not going. "Why do you care so much about if I go or not?" he asked curious.

She flipped out the cards and put the remainder of the deck between them. "I think Arima is right," she responded. "It's not just jerjonji's writing. It's the way you feel used when a fanfic writer 'borrows' you for one of their creative pieces." She shuddered.

She checked her cards, discarded two and took two from the top of the deck. He picked up his cards and didn't look at them. He stared at her face. She was serious about this, he realized. It doesn't bug me too much, being in the fan fiction pieces, and some of the adventures are amazing, but Faye must really hate it to feel so strong about it.

He felt the cards in his hands, and his fingers traced the design on the back. He slid the cards into a neat arc and his eyes skimmed them. Not a bad hand, he thought. I won't have to go anywhere but the couch this afternoon, knowing Faye's luck.

Faye laid her hand on the table face up, a smile on her face. A straight, he thought glancing at his cards. Her luck held like usual. He frowned, and slid the cards in his pocket. Picking up his jacket, swinging it over his shoulder, he looked back at her. "You owe me, Faye, and I'm collecting. When I get home, I want beef with mushrooms."

Faye watched him walk out the door, amazed. She picked up her hand and looked at it again. "I can't believe I won," she said softly.

"Faye no win." The young voice behind her startled her, making her jump.

"What'd you say, Ed?" she asked.

"Spike didn't leave his hand behind," Ed explained patiently. "That means Faye no win."

Faye sighed, "I gotta' go shopping. Wanna' come?"

Ed swung down from the pipe overhead. "Ed want noodles."

Faye pulled out her cash and counted it. "Spike's getting beef with mushrooms tonight," she responded.

"Srooms!" Ed exclaimed. "Ed eats all the 'srooms!"