So! For those of you who subscribed to this story ages ago, you might now have seen an update notification in your emails. And you might be thinking, "Huh? I don't remember that title, which is apparently new, what fic is this?" And then you might recall a Viral/OC fic that you started to read and which never quite continued. Well, a lot has happened since then, and I've decided to dust this story off and give it another shot. I had trouble getting momentum going on it before, but I'm back with a whole bunch of Fresh New Ideas, so let's see where this takes us!
For those of you who read the original version of this story, welcome back! I hope you'll enjoy the improvements. For those of you who are just joining us, welcome!
Chapter 1: This Guy Is Definitely A Ganmen Expert!
It had been three years since the fall of Teppelin. Three years of wandering the wilderness. Three years of getting into fights, of getting killed and never staying dead. He had to admit, though, that it was amusing to see the looks on his opponents' faces when he shrugged off fatal wounds as though they were scratches. Even so, he was getting bored. There was only so many times a Beastman could watch his enemies' faces contort from malicious glee to wordless horror before even that simple delight began to lose its charm.
Did he have a destination in mind? No. Did he have a plan? No. At this point, he thought sourly, he barely remembered what having either of those even felt like.
Viral glared down at the glowing map on Enkidudu's data display. He was back in the wastelands again, nothing around for miles but craggy cliffs and cratered sand and mud. The nearest settlements were at least a day's journey away.
It was a good day for traveling, at least. Summer was coming, but the heat hadn't gotten too severe yet. He opened the cockpit, letting the warm breeze and fresh air in. It stirred the stale air around him and ruffled his hair, which was starting to get ragged and messy again. He'd have to trim it. He'd never have allowed it to get to this state three years ago, he thought with a stir of annoyance at himself.
He slouched down in the pilot's seat, teeth bared in a general state of annoyance at... well, everything. He had no reason to keep going, but also no reason to stay in one place. Moving forward at least gave him the illusion of having someplace to be, anyway. And so he kept going.
The next morning dawned as a less ideal day for traveling. The winds had picked up during the night, leading Viral to shut the cockpit to keep the dirt and grit out. And as Enkidudu trudged northwest, the winds just kept getting stronger.
Scanning the expanse of wasteland ahead, Viral spotted a dark streak on the horizon. He focused Enkidudu's visual display on it, zooming in: it was a towering dust storm, churning and roiling and picking up speed at a ferocious rate.
With a flick of one fingertip, he brought up a wider view on Enkidudu's map displays. There, still a day's walk ahead, was the marker for a former military outpost; he was entering what had once been the Far Western Theater of the war. Dust storms such as this could easily last for days, not to mention the havoc it would wreak on Enkidudu as the fine particles worked their way into the crevices between the Ganmen's armor plates.
Well, he didn't have many options. Changing direction wouldn't help; out here, on the vast flatlands, the dust storms could stretch for miles across. Even if he turned around and backtracked, the storm would catch up to him. There was no outrunning it. He'd head for the outpost, and hope he could reach it before the dust shut his mecha down.
Growling under his breath, Viral gripped the control handles and settled in for what promised to be a tense journey.
He hated to admit it, but he was almost glad.
Any minute now...
There.
Viral was within comms range of the outpost. And not a second too soon, either: he could feel Enkidudu straining against the winds with each step.
His slight relief at the break in monotony hadn't lasted long- the thought of being stranded in the wastelands with a dust-choked Ganmen and only a basic toolkit for repairs had rather made him rethink the appeal of monotony.
Moving with the quick, decisive efficiency of long practice, he opened up a channel and searched for the outpost's frequency. He knew, of course, that the place might be deserted; with the disbanding of the military three years gone already, there was a reasonably high likelihood that no one was there to answer. He'd still head for the outpost regardless; even if the place was abandoned, he could at least blast his way in and wait for the storm to pass. In more ways than one, it'd be easier if the outpost was deserted. Either way, it'd be best to know before he arrived.
The minutes ticked by with only static as a response to his scans, and then-
"Uh... hello?"
The comms signal that was beeping now had been silent for nearly three years. Shoji, on comms watch duty, stared in confusion at the blinking orange light for a few seconds before he came to his senses and lunged for the receiver contact.
"Uh, hello?" he ventured. Comms watch duty was almost always uneventful; it was more of a precaution at this point than anything else. And of course the one time something finally happened, it would happen on Shoji's watch; he wasn't sure if he ought to be grateful or not.
Static crackled on the other end for a second, and then a garbled voice came back.
"-lo? -s this?"
"Huh? Um, I can't hear you very well," Shoji said nervously. "Can you try, uh, um... a different... channel...?" Damn it all, he didn't even really know the right terminology for this! Now he definitely wished this had happened on someone else's shift.
"Dust -orm... -st- ... -ermission to-"
Well, at least part of that he could figure out. "Dust storm? Did you say dust storm?!" Shoji echoed, alarmed. The dust storms in this area were as infamous as they were deadly. He hazarded a guess: "Hey, if you need shelter from the dust storm, come this way! We'll be ready for you!"
All he got in response was a burst of static. Hoping the message had gone through, Shoji grabbed the handheld comm on his belt.
"Hey, I need backup in the comms room!" he shouted.
Viral eyed the comms balefully. Whoever that had been, they either weren't former military, or they'd really gotten sloppy in the past three years.
It was possible, of course, that the outpost had been claimed by humans. He rarely ventured near human settlements, but it wasn't as if he had many choices at that particular moment. Either he took his chances with the outpost, humans or no humans, or he endured the storm out in the open and hoped the damage to Enkidudu wouldn't be too extensive.
"Damn it," he growled. He knew damn well he wasn't going to risk ruining his Ganmen. Granted, if humans had occupied the outpost, he ran the risk of having the damn Ganmen commandeered. He'd be hemmed in by the outpost's walls, and outnumbered by the damned naked apes with their damned Spiral energy. Then again, this was a strange new world. Viral had long since given up trying to predict what the naked apes would do next.
Every step towards the outpost brought him further into the heart of the dust storm. Enkidudu's limbs were stiffening, mechanisms grinding and groaning under the strain. Viral ground his teeth, hands clenched on the controls.
"Just a bit further, Enkidudu," he muttered.
A crowd had amassed in the comms room. Rows of faces pressed in close together, awash in the green glow of the screens, and they stared with anxious concentration at the blip on the scanner, which blinked closer to their outpost with each sweep of the radar.
"So... who is this guy?" someone asked in a hushed voice.
"Don't know," Shoji whispered back. "With this dust storm, I could barely hear what he was saying. Sounded like he's in trouble out there, though."
"It's really just one guy out there, huh?"
"Guess so." Shoji hesitated, then glanced back over his shoulder at one particular face. "Hey, Katashi, um... I told him he could come here if he's in trouble out there, but is that really okay...?"
Katashi stroked his greying beard. "If this traveler is in trouble, then we ought to help him, if we can. If he brings trouble to our doorstep, we'll deal with it. We're well-armed here, after all."
"Guess we'll find out pretty soon if we're making a mistake or not," Shoji murmured. The blip on the screen blinked closer.
The wastes had been quiet and empty for weeks- months, even. It was rare to see travelers out this far, especially alone. And whenever anyone did pass by, it was usually scavengers, or a caravan of former undergrounders headed for Kamina City. But a single traveler? Out this far? Alone? Unheard of.
Finally, after hours of painstaking piloting, Viral was nearly at the outpost. The grinding of sand and dust in Enkidudu's mechanisms had his teeth on edge, but the Ganmen was still walking. No surprise there with a machine of this caliber; after all, Enki had once been one of the few Ganmen that Teppelin had ever seen fit to equip with a particle beam ring.
Just ahead, the outer wall of the outpost loomed through the swirling sand, an imposing, dark slab just barely visible in the haze. As he pushed Enkidudu along the last few agonizing steps to shelter, a flashing orange light glowed through the dust, and a vertical line of jet-black appeared through the haze as a massive set of outer doors began to open. Viral guided Enkidudu into the inky void within, and at last the howling winds subsided behind him.
He was in a spray-down chamber; out here in the wastes, where dust storms such as these were a regular occurrence, the last thing the military outposts had needed was patrols coming back and tracking sand and dust into their hangar bays. So most of them had chambers such as this, with high-powered air and water jets to blast the dust off of returning Ganmen.
An alarm rang out as the doors rumbled into place behind him, enclosing Enkidudu in silence and darkness, and Viral waited for the jets to start up. In the days of the military, there would've been someone standing by to start the jets as soon as the outer door closed.
A sheepish voice crackled over the comms. "Uh... wait just one moment, please!"
Swearing under his breath, Viral made a quick decision to trust his instincts; he dug his cloak out of its storage compartment and drew it about his shoulders, then grabbed his scarf and wound it loosely around his head, leaving only his eye visible.
The jets fired up, filling the chamber with a low hiss. Viral figured he had about two minutes to prepare.
Twisting to the side of the narrow cockpit, he unearthed his med-kit, long disused. Luckily, he hadn't gotten around to ditching it just yet. Inside were two rolls of bandages. Viral kept up a steady stream of swears as he hastily wrapped up his hands, winding the bandages around each finger separately so he'd at least retain some mobility.
He hated the idea of disguising himself like some kind of coward, but the alternative put him at a significant disadvantage as far as numbers went, and he'd rather risk losing his pride than his Ganmen.
Another alarm clanged out as the jets shut off. Viral tied off the second bandage right as the inner doors began to open. Well, there was nothing for it now. Resigning himself to whatever the outcome of this decision would be,Viral guided Enkidudu into the hangar bay.
A crowd had turned out for his arrival. From the bay floor to the repair scaffolds, curious faces watched him from every angle.
Human faces. Sometimes, Viral thought sourly, there was no satisfaction in being right.
Perched high on a maintenance scaffold, Shoji eyed the inner doors of the spray-down chamber nervously. A yellow light flashed above the chamber; the spray-down was in progress, and soon the chamber would be opening to reveal their mystery traveler.
Next to him, a young woman sighed morosely and slumped against the railing of the scaffold. "Ah, man," she grumbled, "the one time something happens on comms watch and I missed it! And my shift was right before yours, too, Shoji!"
"Honestly, Aika, it probably would've been better if it had been your shift," Shoji mumbled. "I didn't know what to do, if telling him to come here was the right decision-!"
Aika huffed and clapped his shoulder. "If it's a lone traveler in trouble, out there in the dust storm, then it was definitely the right decision!" she proclaimed. "You'll see, Shoji! You might've even saved this guy's life!"
Shoji straightened up, smiling tentatively. "Really? You think so?!"
"Yeah! Right, Chiyo?" Aika turned to the crimson-eyed girl next to her, who crossed her arms and nodded.
"Mm, right! Besides, we outnumber him. He tries to take advantage of our hospitality, we just kick him out," she said with a shrug.
And then the light above the door flashed green, a siren clanged out, and the two halves of the inner door began their laborious slide apart.
Next to Shoji, Aika leaned excitedly over the scaffold railing. "This is it, here we go! Let's see what kind of person travels alone in the wastes these days."
With the external comms switched on, Viral could hear the surprised and appreciative murmurs as the assembled crowd took in the sight of Enkidudu. Again, no surprise there; Enkidudu was a cut above the standard-issue Ganmen that the humans had been able to steal for themselves. Well, a cut above most of them... with one noteworthy exception.
Like a river around a stone, the crowd parted as he walked his limping Ganmen to the nearest scaffold. Once it was properly aligned, he powered Enkidudu down. The display screens shut off, the crowd of humans vanishing. Ensconced in the cockpit, Viral took a moment to collect himself. Then he swore under his breath, popped the cockpit hatch, and stepped out onto the scaffold.
Watching from their high perch, Shoji and his friends stared as the chamber door ground open and a four-armed Ganmen stepped out. Its white armor gleamed from the spray-down jets, but even at this distance, they could hear the grinding of machinery as its sand-clogged joints labored.
Next to him, Aika was all but hanging double over the railing.
"Four arms! Hey, hey, look! Chiyo, Shoji, four arms!" she exclaimed breathlessly.
"Careful, Aika, you're gonna fall off the scaffold!" Shoji fretted.
Aika snorted dismissively. "Nah, not gonna happen!"
Chiyo heaved an exaggerated sigh. "If she does, maybe the fall will knock some sense into that thick skull of hers."
"If I fall I'm takin' you with me, Chi'," Aika jibed.
And then the Ganmen settled into its scaffold. Silence fell over the hangar bay. A faint click and hiss, and the cockpit hatch opened. Aika leaned forward even more precariously, drawing in a sharp breath.
A lean, rangy figure shrouded in sand-brown rags stepped out of the cockpit. As he climbed down the scaffolding ladder, one lone man at ground level made his way to the front of the crowd- Katashi, their leader. The crowd parted obligingly, and Katashi reached the foot of the scaffold right as the stranger's boots thudded onto the hangar floor.
"Welcome, traveler!" Katashi said warmly. "I'm glad you were able to reach us. You're lucky, to have gotten as far as you did in that storm."
"It wasn't luck." The voice that rang out was sharp, somewhat deep, somewhat raspy, and not even remotely hesitant or uncertain. "Luck will never save you in a storm like that. Rely on luck, and you'll end up dead. It was piloting skill that brought me here." A murmur ran through the crowd. The stranger paused, then bowed his head slightly and said, "Thank you for your hospitality."
"Of course, of course! Welcome to Hajime Village- well, I say that, but I guess now it's the Hajime Outpost," Katashi said with a chuckle. "I am Katashi, the leader here. And who would you be?"
A pause, and then, "I am... no one."
Dead silence hung over the crowd for a long few seconds.
"W-well, all right! We'll just call you 'stranger', then," Katashi said with an awkward laugh.
"If I may, I wish to make use of your hangar bay to repair the damage to my Ganmen," the stranger said calmly. "I will depart when the storm passes. I won't ask much from you, aside from that. I have food stores, and-"
"Nonsense!" Katashi said. "If you're our guest then you're welcome to join us for meals! Come, we'll find a bunk for you."
The stranger started to protest, but was quickly swept along by Katashi. An excited murmur went up as the crowd followed, like a dam breaking and unleashing a river behind Katashi and their unwitting guest.
Shoji stood back from the railing and sighed. "Man, he seems pretty intense, huh?" No response. Turning, Shoji immediately saw the problem.
Aika stood gripping the railing, eyes fixed on the doorway where the crowd was now filtering out in the wake of their new arrival. Her face was flushed, her clenched knuckles bone-white, and she was all but vibrating on the spot.
"Uh oh," Chiyo said dryly. Aika whirled to face her, grasping the front of her coveralls and shaking her.
"This is it! This is definitely it!" Aika exclaimed. "This is my chance! I have so many questions! Did you see him?! The confidence-!"
"More like arrogance," Chiyo remarked.
"Even better, if he has the skills to back it up! Don't you see?!" Now Aika spun to Shoji and gripped his shoulders, shaking him. Her vivid blue eyes sparkled with an eagerness that bordered on mania. "This guy... this guy is definitely a Ganmen expert!"
SENPAI SPOTTED. TARGET: LOCK ON.
Pffffff, anyway, see you guys in Chapter 2!