Aha! I'm alive! Anyway, standard disclaimers apply. GetBackers is property
of Yuya Aoki-sensei and Rando Ayamine-semsei (but mostly Rando Ayamine-
sensei because he's the only one who seems to have any say as to what
happens)
*Ayamine-sensei and Aoki sensei sitting around writing manga*
Ayamine-sensei: And... And... let's make Toshiki gay too so that Kazuki can have his own harem and more scenes with Hevn 'cuz boobs are fun to draw!
Aoki-sensei: * sigh *
(This conversation is completely made up in Ai's head and bears no actual resemblance to any conversation the authors of Get Backers ever had. At least probably not anyway.)
---------------
An Intermission Which May Actually Serve a Purpose
---------------
The snowfall was so thick that the city was hidden behind a sheet of white. Occasionally a ghostly gray shape of a building would be distinguishable. The only sign of the Mugenjou was an obscure, faintly purple glow through the snowfall.
"The progress?" Ban repeated, eyebrows creasing in rapidly rising temper.
"Indeed." Said the one who was calling himself Xuan Wu. The many beaded braids clacked together as he sat down again on the couch.
Before the pierced blond could open his mouth, Ban cut in. "And just what the hell are you doing inside our apartment? I lock the door for a reason, you know."
Xuan Wu and Quing Long exchanged looks. They apparently weren't used to being spoken to in this manner, unless the speaker happened to have a sacrificial virgin on hand, and even then...
"In our case, Midou Ban," Xuan Wu said, keeping his voice dangerously even, "Locks and doorknobs are things that happen to other people."
"Yeah, yeah," said Ban grudgingly as Ginji plopped down in the only chair in the sparsely furnished apartment. "So what did you do," Ban continued, "just walk through the wall?"
"In a manner of speaking," Xuan Wu replied haughtily tossing several braids over his shoulders.
"We got somethin' fer ya," Quing Long practically snarled, "'Cuz Xuan was saying you might've defeated one of the Godai Myo-o, but there was no way you'd be able to awaken the Bodhisattva Kuan-yin and defeat 'im."
This time Ginji cut in. "'Him'? I thought Kuan-yin was a woman."
"If ye paid proper attention to Bhuddist teachings, it's impossible for women to reach the status of a Bodhisattva. Kuan-yin's just a bit of a girly-boy and got all those monks confused with 'is motherin' about they had 'im represented by a lady statue."
Ban tried to repress a snort of laughter and failed. Somehow he got a mental image of Kazuki having something like that happen to him.
"Any way," Xuan Wu continued in a professional tone of voice, ignoring Ban, "We took the liberty, at great risk to our own positions in the heavens, to retrieve you the One Thousand Arms of Love and mercy, and the lotus flower Kuan-Yin rode out of Hell on." He snapped his fingers and Qing Long produced a scroll and a dried flower from somewhere in the recesses of his jacket. "You may receive them now." Xuan Wu finished with a dignified flourish of his hand. With great ceremony, Quing Long passed the scroll and flower to Ginji, although he took a moment to whisper to the blonde retrieval agent.
"Don't mind 'im. He always wants teh do things proper-like. Makes it extra mythic and all."
Ginji took the scroll, examining it in his usual perplexed manner, and beamed up at Quing Long. A flush grew in the God's cheeks and he scratched his nose in embarrassment (although he quickly returned to Xuan Wu's side when he felt Ban's glare boring into him like a pair of daggers).
"You have the other two treasures, I assume?" Xuan Wu said as Qing Long tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible (quite the task considering he was about as inconspicuous as a neon pink advertisement sign in a cloudy midnight in the middle of the desert).
Ban nodded in response, pulling the broken hilt and unwound rope from his pocket. "They're broken though," he waved them to emphasize his point by displaying their brokenness. He gave a yelp and jolt of surprise the blade sprung from the hilt in a jet of flame and the rope wound itself back up. Xuan Wu and Qing Long both exchanged significant looks.
"Alright, note to self, don't wave around mythical weapons of the Gods, they might try to kill you." Ban gasped, hefting the sword experimentally. Ginji had rushed to his side, already quick to fuss over him.
"Ban-chan, did it burn you?"
Ban shook his head. "No, it's quite cool actually." He gazed down at the flickering blade, blue flames licked his knuckles but left no burns or welts. He did not even feel their heat.
"It is yours," said Xuan Wu getting up to leave. "Until you pass it on to someone, or have it wrested from your grasp, the blade of Fudo Myo-o is in your command. We will see each other again, but for now I bid you farewell." In a swirl of black smoke he had vanished.
Quing Long also stood and gave a long-suffering gaze at the Get Backers. "He's always like that. Melodramatic if you ask me. Well, gotta get going too. Ciao." There was a swirl of greenish blue smoke, and Quing Long was also gone.
Ban and Ginji stood in silence, watching with eyes wide as saucers as the smoke cleared. Ban was the first to break the silence;
"On a rating of one to ten of our weird encounters, how would you rate that one, Ginji?"
"I'd give it a solid eight."
"Not including all the times Akabane has attempted to get in your pants by displaying his affection through trying to slice you to tiny bits."
"Ten."
"That's better."
---------------
Maria's little shop pretty much ran itself. She had her own handful of regulars who knew what they were looking for and how to use it, and they knew that Maria would know if anything was stolen. New customers were a rarity. When one arrived they were usually middle-aged women that had grown their hair long and didn't shave under their arms because they thought it separated them from the crass consumer driven society. They also wore too much hand beaten silver jewelry covered in Celtic runes even though the only thing they knew about the Celts was that they had runes. These were women who liked to call themselves witches in a hope to sound more alluring and mysterious and maybe attract a younger boyfriend. When they wandered into Maria's shop they stayed a long time, examining the merchandise, but when they left, they never came back.
Maria ran a selective business.
Sometimes she would have Mei work at the counter, which struck Maria's customers as odd. Mei looked out of place in the midst of the shop with her tie-dye hair and Technicolor fashion sense. The fact that she wasn't very good with magic had lost her whatever respect the customers might have given her despite her appearance. Maria had quickly decided the shop was not for Mei. Instead, the apprentice worked as a sort of maid for Maria. She earned her own wages by keeping the place tidy and from falling down on itself. Mei knew it was important for the apprentice to do a certain specified service to the master (in this case, mistress), but she still couldn't help but to bitterly refer to herself as the "hand-maid Mei" when she was alone and carrying out one of her long, one-sided conversations.
The mop made a squidging sound as it was brought wetly down onto the kitchen floor. Maria strictly forbade Mei to use magic when she was not around (lest the mop or other cleaning things become some sort of monstrous, man-eating creature which, given Mei's erratic and uncontrollable spurts of power was quite likely to happen), and so the chores around the house were done with elbow grease. Mei was halfway through the last stage of her daily routine and the part of the kitchen she had finished gleamed in the gray light pouring in through the window. Maria was down at the shop, which would strike many people who did not know Maria as odd. This sort of blizzard would keep anyone, even the most dedicated workers, at home. But Maria was a witch, and when it came to witches who ran businesses and their customers, weather was something that happened to other people.
Mei stepped back, wiping her brow with a red kerchief she wore in her hair and leaning heavily on the mop, she beamed triumphantly at her work. Despite her occasional grumbling, she was quite good at housework, and there was something satisfying, something real, about a clean floor that she didn't find in winding the complexities of time and space in the lattices of a crystal. She hardly noticed the figure behind her when a club landed on the back of her head. But by then it was too late.
---------------
Doctor Akabane Kuroudo all dressed in black was reading a newspaper on the subway. Those who knew Akabane (or those who at least knew he had his own car. Several cars in fact; all sleek black foreign imports that could exceed 200) would find it strange that such a man rode the subway. But he did. It wasn't because he needed to physically get from point A to point B. He could make his own way. He just enjoyed observing the heavily crowded underground and all the interesting people that rode it.
Today it was nigh empty except for a few homeless men who had made an executive decision to stay alive and warm riding the trains rather than freeze to death in the blizzard. Akabane was paying them no mind. They were busy passing around a can full of something that may have smelled like hard gin and then again may have smelled like old cat urine. Akabane was keeping his distance. As a doctor he was a stickler for cleanliness and proper hygiene. As a serial murderer he was still a stickler for cleanliness. He'd always disinfect his scalpels and other various weapons before proceeding to kill as efficiently and as violently as he could. After all, he didn't want his victims to get tetanus.
There was the sudden squeal of brakes and the whole train rolled to a halt at the platform. Outside the train there was a noise of panic and general commotion among the small number of people out and about in the snowstorm. Intrigued, Akabane stepped off the train onto the platform and weaved through the assembled crowd like a snake through tall grass. The driver was standing down at the train , ashen faced and trembling.
"Thirty seven years driven this train and I ain't never seen nothin' like it! Just flew off the platform, couldn't stop in time... tried... but couldn't... poor li'l thing pro'lly never saw what hit 'er."
Akabane looked past the driver at the sad little heap on the tracks. It was a girl, no older than sixteen with straight hair that came down to her earlobes and dyed a florescent shade of purple. The clothes, seen through the massive bloodstains, were also brightly coloured. Not too far from the crumpled little body, not unlike the kind house workers wore to keep their hair out of their face, was a red kerchief.
Akabane turned to leave and saw a man in a black and gray pinstriped business suit walking rather hurriedly up the stairs out to the blizzard above. Akabane Koroudo smiled in a serpentine manner, and followed.
Bai Hu was right when he said things were only just about to get interesting.
---------------
End of Intermission
---------------
Ai's rambling: Sorry this has taken so long for those who've been enjoying this. I've been ultra busy with college applications, competing in scholastics awards in CT and the art of harmony contest for Coca Cola (one of which I got a gold key for my portfolio, the other I am one of the 12 winners for the greater Boston area so w00t! Go me! I guess I must be doing SOMETHING right * brags some more *), keeping my big head afloat in the ocean of work piled up (I THOUGHT HIGHSCHOOL SENIOR YEAR WAS MEANT TO BE EASY!!!1!!111!!11!!!!!) and most importantly attempting to have a social life. So it's been stressful. Sorry this part was so short. I wrote it in an afternoon when I miraculously had some free time (actually I should have been reading Hamlet) and decided to make it an intermission to the big, important stuff that happens next. Stick around. I promise I'll have the next chapter up at least within the month.
*Ayamine-sensei and Aoki sensei sitting around writing manga*
Ayamine-sensei: And... And... let's make Toshiki gay too so that Kazuki can have his own harem and more scenes with Hevn 'cuz boobs are fun to draw!
Aoki-sensei: * sigh *
(This conversation is completely made up in Ai's head and bears no actual resemblance to any conversation the authors of Get Backers ever had. At least probably not anyway.)
---------------
An Intermission Which May Actually Serve a Purpose
---------------
The snowfall was so thick that the city was hidden behind a sheet of white. Occasionally a ghostly gray shape of a building would be distinguishable. The only sign of the Mugenjou was an obscure, faintly purple glow through the snowfall.
"The progress?" Ban repeated, eyebrows creasing in rapidly rising temper.
"Indeed." Said the one who was calling himself Xuan Wu. The many beaded braids clacked together as he sat down again on the couch.
Before the pierced blond could open his mouth, Ban cut in. "And just what the hell are you doing inside our apartment? I lock the door for a reason, you know."
Xuan Wu and Quing Long exchanged looks. They apparently weren't used to being spoken to in this manner, unless the speaker happened to have a sacrificial virgin on hand, and even then...
"In our case, Midou Ban," Xuan Wu said, keeping his voice dangerously even, "Locks and doorknobs are things that happen to other people."
"Yeah, yeah," said Ban grudgingly as Ginji plopped down in the only chair in the sparsely furnished apartment. "So what did you do," Ban continued, "just walk through the wall?"
"In a manner of speaking," Xuan Wu replied haughtily tossing several braids over his shoulders.
"We got somethin' fer ya," Quing Long practically snarled, "'Cuz Xuan was saying you might've defeated one of the Godai Myo-o, but there was no way you'd be able to awaken the Bodhisattva Kuan-yin and defeat 'im."
This time Ginji cut in. "'Him'? I thought Kuan-yin was a woman."
"If ye paid proper attention to Bhuddist teachings, it's impossible for women to reach the status of a Bodhisattva. Kuan-yin's just a bit of a girly-boy and got all those monks confused with 'is motherin' about they had 'im represented by a lady statue."
Ban tried to repress a snort of laughter and failed. Somehow he got a mental image of Kazuki having something like that happen to him.
"Any way," Xuan Wu continued in a professional tone of voice, ignoring Ban, "We took the liberty, at great risk to our own positions in the heavens, to retrieve you the One Thousand Arms of Love and mercy, and the lotus flower Kuan-Yin rode out of Hell on." He snapped his fingers and Qing Long produced a scroll and a dried flower from somewhere in the recesses of his jacket. "You may receive them now." Xuan Wu finished with a dignified flourish of his hand. With great ceremony, Quing Long passed the scroll and flower to Ginji, although he took a moment to whisper to the blonde retrieval agent.
"Don't mind 'im. He always wants teh do things proper-like. Makes it extra mythic and all."
Ginji took the scroll, examining it in his usual perplexed manner, and beamed up at Quing Long. A flush grew in the God's cheeks and he scratched his nose in embarrassment (although he quickly returned to Xuan Wu's side when he felt Ban's glare boring into him like a pair of daggers).
"You have the other two treasures, I assume?" Xuan Wu said as Qing Long tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible (quite the task considering he was about as inconspicuous as a neon pink advertisement sign in a cloudy midnight in the middle of the desert).
Ban nodded in response, pulling the broken hilt and unwound rope from his pocket. "They're broken though," he waved them to emphasize his point by displaying their brokenness. He gave a yelp and jolt of surprise the blade sprung from the hilt in a jet of flame and the rope wound itself back up. Xuan Wu and Qing Long both exchanged significant looks.
"Alright, note to self, don't wave around mythical weapons of the Gods, they might try to kill you." Ban gasped, hefting the sword experimentally. Ginji had rushed to his side, already quick to fuss over him.
"Ban-chan, did it burn you?"
Ban shook his head. "No, it's quite cool actually." He gazed down at the flickering blade, blue flames licked his knuckles but left no burns or welts. He did not even feel their heat.
"It is yours," said Xuan Wu getting up to leave. "Until you pass it on to someone, or have it wrested from your grasp, the blade of Fudo Myo-o is in your command. We will see each other again, but for now I bid you farewell." In a swirl of black smoke he had vanished.
Quing Long also stood and gave a long-suffering gaze at the Get Backers. "He's always like that. Melodramatic if you ask me. Well, gotta get going too. Ciao." There was a swirl of greenish blue smoke, and Quing Long was also gone.
Ban and Ginji stood in silence, watching with eyes wide as saucers as the smoke cleared. Ban was the first to break the silence;
"On a rating of one to ten of our weird encounters, how would you rate that one, Ginji?"
"I'd give it a solid eight."
"Not including all the times Akabane has attempted to get in your pants by displaying his affection through trying to slice you to tiny bits."
"Ten."
"That's better."
---------------
Maria's little shop pretty much ran itself. She had her own handful of regulars who knew what they were looking for and how to use it, and they knew that Maria would know if anything was stolen. New customers were a rarity. When one arrived they were usually middle-aged women that had grown their hair long and didn't shave under their arms because they thought it separated them from the crass consumer driven society. They also wore too much hand beaten silver jewelry covered in Celtic runes even though the only thing they knew about the Celts was that they had runes. These were women who liked to call themselves witches in a hope to sound more alluring and mysterious and maybe attract a younger boyfriend. When they wandered into Maria's shop they stayed a long time, examining the merchandise, but when they left, they never came back.
Maria ran a selective business.
Sometimes she would have Mei work at the counter, which struck Maria's customers as odd. Mei looked out of place in the midst of the shop with her tie-dye hair and Technicolor fashion sense. The fact that she wasn't very good with magic had lost her whatever respect the customers might have given her despite her appearance. Maria had quickly decided the shop was not for Mei. Instead, the apprentice worked as a sort of maid for Maria. She earned her own wages by keeping the place tidy and from falling down on itself. Mei knew it was important for the apprentice to do a certain specified service to the master (in this case, mistress), but she still couldn't help but to bitterly refer to herself as the "hand-maid Mei" when she was alone and carrying out one of her long, one-sided conversations.
The mop made a squidging sound as it was brought wetly down onto the kitchen floor. Maria strictly forbade Mei to use magic when she was not around (lest the mop or other cleaning things become some sort of monstrous, man-eating creature which, given Mei's erratic and uncontrollable spurts of power was quite likely to happen), and so the chores around the house were done with elbow grease. Mei was halfway through the last stage of her daily routine and the part of the kitchen she had finished gleamed in the gray light pouring in through the window. Maria was down at the shop, which would strike many people who did not know Maria as odd. This sort of blizzard would keep anyone, even the most dedicated workers, at home. But Maria was a witch, and when it came to witches who ran businesses and their customers, weather was something that happened to other people.
Mei stepped back, wiping her brow with a red kerchief she wore in her hair and leaning heavily on the mop, she beamed triumphantly at her work. Despite her occasional grumbling, she was quite good at housework, and there was something satisfying, something real, about a clean floor that she didn't find in winding the complexities of time and space in the lattices of a crystal. She hardly noticed the figure behind her when a club landed on the back of her head. But by then it was too late.
---------------
Doctor Akabane Kuroudo all dressed in black was reading a newspaper on the subway. Those who knew Akabane (or those who at least knew he had his own car. Several cars in fact; all sleek black foreign imports that could exceed 200) would find it strange that such a man rode the subway. But he did. It wasn't because he needed to physically get from point A to point B. He could make his own way. He just enjoyed observing the heavily crowded underground and all the interesting people that rode it.
Today it was nigh empty except for a few homeless men who had made an executive decision to stay alive and warm riding the trains rather than freeze to death in the blizzard. Akabane was paying them no mind. They were busy passing around a can full of something that may have smelled like hard gin and then again may have smelled like old cat urine. Akabane was keeping his distance. As a doctor he was a stickler for cleanliness and proper hygiene. As a serial murderer he was still a stickler for cleanliness. He'd always disinfect his scalpels and other various weapons before proceeding to kill as efficiently and as violently as he could. After all, he didn't want his victims to get tetanus.
There was the sudden squeal of brakes and the whole train rolled to a halt at the platform. Outside the train there was a noise of panic and general commotion among the small number of people out and about in the snowstorm. Intrigued, Akabane stepped off the train onto the platform and weaved through the assembled crowd like a snake through tall grass. The driver was standing down at the train , ashen faced and trembling.
"Thirty seven years driven this train and I ain't never seen nothin' like it! Just flew off the platform, couldn't stop in time... tried... but couldn't... poor li'l thing pro'lly never saw what hit 'er."
Akabane looked past the driver at the sad little heap on the tracks. It was a girl, no older than sixteen with straight hair that came down to her earlobes and dyed a florescent shade of purple. The clothes, seen through the massive bloodstains, were also brightly coloured. Not too far from the crumpled little body, not unlike the kind house workers wore to keep their hair out of their face, was a red kerchief.
Akabane turned to leave and saw a man in a black and gray pinstriped business suit walking rather hurriedly up the stairs out to the blizzard above. Akabane Koroudo smiled in a serpentine manner, and followed.
Bai Hu was right when he said things were only just about to get interesting.
---------------
End of Intermission
---------------
Ai's rambling: Sorry this has taken so long for those who've been enjoying this. I've been ultra busy with college applications, competing in scholastics awards in CT and the art of harmony contest for Coca Cola (one of which I got a gold key for my portfolio, the other I am one of the 12 winners for the greater Boston area so w00t! Go me! I guess I must be doing SOMETHING right * brags some more *), keeping my big head afloat in the ocean of work piled up (I THOUGHT HIGHSCHOOL SENIOR YEAR WAS MEANT TO BE EASY!!!1!!111!!11!!!!!) and most importantly attempting to have a social life. So it's been stressful. Sorry this part was so short. I wrote it in an afternoon when I miraculously had some free time (actually I should have been reading Hamlet) and decided to make it an intermission to the big, important stuff that happens next. Stick around. I promise I'll have the next chapter up at least within the month.