A/N:
Well, its nice to see you too. This is the 13th chapter of my current story . This is the fourth distinct version of the chapter since the original one had been wiped out after an unfortunate encounter with a computer virus. Lacking a back up, the next two versions were new and totally crap hence the long long long delay...
First time I'm introducing guns, but then, in a modern world, a ninja who doesn't use every tool available is a deluded one. My opinion, but don't quote me on that. Some pretty theatrical events...
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Naruto.
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The Spirit Shadow floated almost lazily beneath the clouds, leaving no trace of its passage. There was little progress to show for its abnormally long patrol over the British islands and its usually disciplined crew was getting restless. Not that they showed it of course. They were elite. They were servants of the line of Amaterasu. They were men and women of Hakumei.
There was no dissent. Instead there was a change in the atmosphere, a dip in the moods of literally everyone, from the damage control crew who were ever on alert, to the captain and the containment team, who tensely waited for even the ghost of a direct sighting of their unusual foe. Until now, every source, every account of the type of prey they pursued told them that every demonic entity above A class were monstrous berserkers, beings whose raw power overwhelmed whatever feeble intellect they previously possessed, unable to prevent their transformations into horrible looking things whose very presence tortured the environment into lifelessness.
So why was their prey so successful at eluding them? Why was this SS class so content to lie in wait? Why was it becoming increasingly difficult to believe that they would succeed?
The questions swirled around the head of the captain, a one eyed fifty year old who was particularly perplexed. In his little office, he went over their path, their patrol route, searching for a sign, a reason that would conveniently explain away the seemingly impossible happening of such a powerful monster having vanished without a trace. And the only proof to its existence was a single confirmed signature, one that now raised more questions than answers. Very disturbing questions.
The mess hall, or rather, what passed for such in the flying ship played host to many whispered conversations regarding the mission. It was encouraged because experience showed that sometimes, it was the common sense of the humble crewman that trumped the experience and intelligence of the officer. Of course, sometimes it was just frustrated people ranting (in low tones) to a patient ear.
"This is ridiculous. There is no possible way this creature could have evaded us. It is as if this ship and a fully fledged containment team has been sent out of the way for a while chasing a ghost. What do you think, Midori san?"
The addressed individual, namely, one of the female members of the containment team raised a delicate eyebrow before turning to the second in command of the vessel, who for this operation had been reduced to monitoring the sensors. The tea was good, she absently thought, even if it wasn't her favorite.
"Please be patient, Toshiro san. It is important that we are patient and do not let this setback affect our morale. Besides, if the situation is dire enough that the Shadow Empress feels that we need assistance from the Harusame, then the more eccentric guilds that ship plays host to would surely solve our problems in one fell sweep."
The Harusame was what one might call a research vessel. It was also what the Imperial Sorcerers used to test the latest in magical shipboard toys. Being a Japanese design, it resembled a peculiar coastal design called Atakebune and actually spent most of her time above the Gobi desert. Of course, the reason they called that ships crew eccentric was quite simple. Nobody else would travel on a ship that seemingly had to be rebuilt from the keel up every single time somebody made a miscalculation. Which on average meant once every ten months.
But there were other reasons that this crew was not particularly fond of that vessel. For one, that ship was a Japanese vessel that had been ceded to the Chinese after a dispute, who then decided to keep the ships name intact, as a blatant insult. And a Chinese crew was sure to needle them about their inability to execute a mission that the ship was greatly suited to.
Toshiro gave a frustrated sigh. There was no solution in sight it seemed. In another hour or so, he would report back to the scanning room, where a group of assorted technicians managed sensory equipment ranging from 3 to 300 years old. It was not the sheer boredom that annoyed him so, but that there was very little to show for it. In his sixteen years on dragon boats, this was honestly the most fruitless mission he had participated in. At least in an assault on rouge sorcerers, there was at least a clear plan of action, a set time and date, a clear target that you knew the face and (most of the time at least,) capabilities of. Chasing a possibly non existent fairytale was not something that appealed to him. And now a science vessel was being called in. And that in turn meant that should the SS class demon they were searching for reveal itself, his ship would have to protect that vessel as well.
Not that it mattered. At this rate, they would find out that there was no target to chase. Where was that blasted demon?
In another part of that ship though, there was a person who knew where the demon was. In fact that person, at the moment dressed in a regular crew uniform even had an idea as to exactly when and where the next sighting was to occur. In fact, one could even say they exactly knew what the cause of all the odd readings were! And it was such a pity that no one thought to ask that single measly person. Because no one knew that highly informed individual existed...
XXXX
Harry Potter was currently sleeping in his bed. He was also doing chakra control exercises in the local park, as well as reading seven different books in the library, sparring with six of himself, practicing a duel wielding style (with sticks) through ten of himself and was exploring four different parts of London. There was a reason Harry Potter loved Shadow clones and it was because that single jutsu was the reason he was advancing as quickly as he was.
Chakra was a very bothersome power to develop without external instruction. On the other hand he had no doubt that he would have been limited by such instruction as well. Spamming shadow clones had become his training multiplier. He had no physical benefit from using the energy intensive clones, but the mental gains had been incredible.
Simply using these many shadow clones had forced him to develop his memory, his speed of thought, his reaction time, ability to quickly classify and assimilate information, even his ability to see high speed motion had improved. Though, the latter had led to him having to consciously suppress that particular improvement so that he could see television in any form. Seeing three minutes of a movie frame by frame at an agonizingly slow pace was the moment he finally realized that television was totally boring. 24 frames per second just didn't do it any more. Besides all that, he could work his muscle memory by doing kata after kata with clones, which really made him question what Naruto had been doing since he learned the jutsu. Not that it mattered. He still needed more power and skill before he could even imagine taking on an adult wizard.
The thing was, even with his chakra, his illusions and overpowered elementary attacks, it was extremely easy to take him out. Ordinary spells might be blocked by his earth and water based defenses but he had no doubt that a moderately strong spell (never mind the unforgivables) could blast straight through his meager defenses like a bullet through paper. Seeing two seventh years (a Slytherin and Gryffindor) slugging it out magically in the corridors had cured him of any bravado regarding magic. No matter what his opinions about their systems and society, they were deadly.
What he did have on his side was speed, but it did little good against area affect spells or wards. No doubt there even existed a ward that could block his shunshin. As such, he needed more training and knowledge of what magic could do. Diagon Alley looked ripe for a visit. Though it was better to wait after Christmas though. No need to have a Harry Potter Hunt if his first ride on the express was any indication.
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Tetsuya held his blade in his right hand, panting with exhaustion, his body ready to drop and embrace sweet oblivion. Yet he stood still, unsteady but unyielding, a pillar of determination, waiting for his opponent to make a move. And his opponent obliged, whirling a nondescript black katana around with absurd ease. Indeed, he used but three fingers to black and strike, leaving featherlight cuts on the younger ninja's arms. Takeda of the snow watched his latest pupil with barely concealed disgust.
"Come now Tetsuya kun, surely this is not the limit of your determination to push yourself? Where is the energy you displayed mere months ago? Where is your willingness to use the blade that you hold? Has the feeling of an enemy toying with you rendered you useless? Is the idea that there are warriors stronger than you so paralyzing? If so, kill yourself now! There is no place for weaklings like you in this world. If you are not a weakling though, if you are not less than the dust beneath my feet, prove yourself to me! Show me your fire! FIGHT ME!"
And so, he attacked three times with rage and determination. Three separate attempts to topple the mountain of skill mocking him. Three very impressive attempts that failed. He had finally used up all the adrenaline, the energy and the willpower that kept him awake and moving till then.
Sheathing his sword, Takeda left the room deep underneath Knockturn alley without a backward glance. The boy was improving, and he was somewhat driven. Perhaps the next time the "prodigy" met that fellow, he would give a better showing of himself. It was hardly proper for a dedicated warrior to slip into sulking over a loss. There would have been little point in fixing him up with that very expensive medical treatment if what survived was fit to be retired. Glancing at the silent sentinel that had materialized from behind him, the long time diplomat nodded his head dismissively. Tetsuya needed to be healed again before the next time they sparred. Kenji bowed and disappeared. If the good subordinate took a fraction longer than usual to leave though, it was dismissed it as nothing.
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Hermione wondered if all of Christmas would be as boring as the first day home. Sure, she was glad to see her parents and her house, but it held very little meaning to her now, compared to last year. As a girl who had practically married academics, she had been forever in the world of words. Countless meals and countless hours of sleep had been swallowed up in a need to know, a never ending thirst for knowledge.
And now, when her mind and body had been twisted beyond recognition, she found the concept of sitting in her room and reading...utterly dreadful. Her new body had completely overhauled her thinking. History was boring. Reading was boring. In fact, what she really wanted to do was cause mindless mayhem and some proper panic. There was a joy in anarchy she wasn't able to appreciate while human.
Tiggy had finally chosen to call herself Aurora, after the Roman goddess of dawn. Apparently it was suitably misleading and ironic to suit her sensibilities, not to mention the more appropriate inside joke about a fresh start. Hermione herself was unlikely to do away with her own name. It gave her an anchor to her old identity that had been washed away in her transformation. After all, she was far from human and wasn't even able to look upon her parents without an inexplicable sadness, yet she still was not totally divorced of the desire for companionship. Afterward, Aurora, her official guide to "Hermione's new physique" had said that it was because the latent bond between parent and child had been severed, irreparably.
After a few minute of nostalgic tears (without tear ducts no less) Aurora had spent the days between arrival at their home and Christmas constantly giving vague hints towards what her not so new body could do. Apparently there was some link between them, which had managed to totally eradicate the house elf speech of long ago and replaced it with the same modern middle class accent that had characterized Hermione a while back. Indeed, it was so much easier to understand things when your instructor didn't refer to herself in third person. Then again, having what looked like your twin sister teach you about yourself in a vaguely sarcastic and amused manner would have been eerily creepy either way.
At any rate, what she really needed was Harry. Now there was a stand up guy. Very honest, straightforward (completely forgetting that he's a ninja mind you), strong, didn't ignore her, had more than a couple of tricks up his sleeve and was very fun to be around. Who knew what shenanigans the raven haired boy was up to even in that very moment! This simply could not stand. Christmas was a very useless holiday anyway. Who cared about a day marked aside simply to pander to the delusions of human generosity? Yes. She had work to do. Though, getting her parents to let go of their precious daughter for the holidays was going to be tricky. Unless...
Aurora, formerly Tiggy of Hogwarts felt a chill in her non existent spine. For some reason, her mistress was going to do something that would make the former elf very unhappy. A half an hour later, she settled down in an annoyed manner to the role of Hermione Granger. All so her mistress could have fun. What joy!
Sometimes, it was just easier being a house elf.
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Severus Snape looked at the offered lemon drops sourly.
Why his boss preferred to play this joke on every visitor to that office was something he had no idea over. It would have made even less sense if the professor was told that the real reason for Albus's lemon drop fetish was the fact that it was a treat that Grindelwald enjoyed. But then again, that is a story that only Dumbledore knew, and would take to his grave.
In the meantime, he would convey the obscure warning his friend had given him and see if the headmaster could decipher what his friend was implying. Relying entirely on the vague sources that the Leader of the Light professed to maintain, the Headmaster had often reached conclusions that actually matched reality.
While he had not originally intended to share the cryptic warning, he was unsure if Lucius actually had a reason for running off like that. After all, even in the grip of the dark lords cruciatus, he had never seen his friend as troubled as in their last meeting.
"So Albus, what do you make of all this? Whatever the situation, Lucius would not relocate his family abroad unless he had absolute reason to believe that there was no safe location remaining in Britain. In other words this is something that threatens either the whole island or everyone of importance on it. And even then, he would choose France. To locate to the Americas like this is simply unthinkable, especially for someone with his commitments."
Dumbledore was long past his smile and eye twinkle stage. There was a threat out there and whatever it was, it was dangerous enough that it had scared a wizard of Lucius's caliber. Sure, he wasn't a Dumbledore or Voldemort, but there was a reason the man had ended the last war as a Dark Lords second in command.
The threat whatever it was had been named as a danger to Lucius and his family and Severus as well. Was this threat against former death eater's and their kin? Or was it something that was far more encompassing? Why was it that the Malfoy did not feel secure enough behind the family wards? As possibilities cycled through the mind of the centenarian, Severus was treated to the sight of Dumbledore with true steel in his eyes, something that he had last seen in the last war. It both awed and frightened him, because this was not the senile old coot who ran Hogwarts. This was the General who defeated a Dark Lord in one on one combat.
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In Kyoto, the chambers of Chiyo the seer remained as peaceful and quite as they always were. Even lunch was a very quiet affair, with a single attendant to feed the venerable woman. Today, the food in question was sushi, a dish that the lady enjoyed in moderation. With the latest news from the foreign agents, the staff were taking no chances in case of an assassination attempt. There would always be some people who knew of the oracle but kept quiet anyway. Despite the official figure of less than twelve for the last 150 years, as many as 50 could have known about her through one way or another, discovering the existence of the Empress's most loyal and hidden advisor. Consequently, as happens when too many eyes are pointed in only one particular direction (outside), nobody in the area, least of all the blind lady herself noticed when the attendant responsible for serving that particular platter of sushi sprinkled a little dust like powder on some of the individual pieces of sushi. A second powder was already in the water served alongside. Not that the attendant herself knew what it was supposed to do. That was what following orders meant, doing the job, even if you die right after.
Nobody had noticed her rather discrete practice of drugging the seer. Nobody had known that the attendant in question was responsible for a crime they were not aware had been committed. After all, nobody really suspects the empresses second cousin of treasonous behavior, suspicious fellows as they were. At least, nobody actually responsible for the seers safety.
The particular form of bipartite magical concoction being administered was known to quite a few magical researchers (and brain researchers) as a way to steer a persons dreams and to subject them to visions of your choice. The drug served as both anchor and beacon, using a ritual to insert the necessary visions into the required persons dreams. It was used to control nightmares. But a very small group of people knew of an alternate use of the otherwise ordinary concoction. The drug could also be used to subject those talented with abilities in divination with controllable false visions and prophesies.
True, it wasn't totally foolproof, because the truth often "leaked" into the fiction, and the combination of truth and lie added still odder visions. But still, a seer specific assault that eliminated any possibility of the seer being able to anticipate such activity? Priceless. Especially considering that the Empress had a rather unusual reliance on the seer in question. The idea that the non existent demon was SS class was just a bonus.
But then again, when has humanity ceased to exploit such a freely give advantage?
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In an unknown cave in an unknown place, a group of men moved with a purpose. Over them, casting a shadow from overhead lights was a vessel of such fantasy that no English wizard would have recognized it.
It was the child of a project so outlandish that most of its visionaries had, at one point or the other been considered eccentric dreamers in polite society. The members were what would have been called engineers. As such, they were called Craftsmen. They were all brought together and secreted away in this place by the same organization. Some were eager, men whose lives were finally been given direction. Some were dreamers, men who wished to prove that their vision would bear fruit. And some were coerced, unwilling participants to a madness they could only hope would leave them alive at its conclusion.
China, and by proxy her allies, had long been masters of the sky, with navies that made short work of any enemy they were tasked to take care of. But in a way, their whole tech tree as it were, was stuck in the distant past. The same sorcery that kept a fifteen meter long personnel dragon boat in the air, also served to keep the 400 meter long Zheng He in fighting condition. This was a solid field of study that since about a hundred years had ceased to produce anything that could be called progress. They had reached the limits of the Dragon Boat. They had beaten that horse to the death.
But that was exactly what the Imperial Navy demanded in their ships, progress. What was anyone to do, when like an evolutionary dead end, the sorcery of dragon boats ended its impressive run with boundaries that could not be crossed and limits that could not be broken? Ships like the Harusame, once helped sorcerers research ways to get airborne and fight there even more easily. Now, they were useless, vessels that existed to further the ruse that the Immortal Emperors forces were still leaping ahead in the never ending marathon for the skies.
It took a while, but some bright intellect, buried in the nations Confucian bureaucracy came up with an idea. If wooden ships had finally reached their limits, why not make a metal one?
It was a radical idea, not because the Chinese were an insular, backward bunch who could not take inspiration from their non magical cousins, but because for some reason, there existed no published work that could be built upon. Nobody had ever considered the idea of a floating metal ship, ever. It was quite annoying to learn that in the brilliance driven society of Chinese sorcery, nobody had invested effort in a field of study that they would have to literally develop from scratch.
So, they did the next best thing. They gathered up the people who had shown some sign of interest in the field, the people who could make metal into what they needed, and the various criminals who wouldn't mind (or didn't have a choice) working hard in exchange for limited, yet strictly monitored freedom.
And years of effort, and innumerable failures, partial successes and disasters later, they had finally made a prototype functional battleship. The lessons learned were hard. And the rewards were few, but the names of those involved were guaranteed to be immortalized in the minds of future sailors.
All of which was great in theory. The problem was that government funded secret projects had a tendency to be...subverted, by very unscrupulous people. After all, not even the most powerful magic can prevent people (*cough*bureaucrats*cough*) from trying to make a quick buck, or trying to avoid blackmail.
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Eighteen clones were currently occupied in London proper, scouting, observing and otherwise wandering. Seeing as it was the holidays, and seeing as Christmas itself was fast approaching, Harry wanted to use the holidays for things more than brute force brooding. Hence, his clones had gone about with individual tasks and then been set to wander for whatever caught their interest. One clone had been sent to make sure his investments were in order. Another was discretely looking for someone who could do a custom order for his swords. He knew there were people in the business because he had seen live blades being used in combat – by civilians. That clone was meant to be quite thorough in his quest. A third clone was on the lookout for military grade combat knives, and maybe something better. Still others were on the lookout for new places to train, new locations for resources and stuff that he felt he just could not put off.
Two clones, Cat and Bear in particular, had a rather more grim task. They were supposed to find and observe the more criminal elements of the huge city. As a mercenary/assassin/ninja, he would eventually need to find clients. And inevitably clients were often the scum of the earth, just prettied up a bit. Criminals who had risen from the streets, rich people who had extended their tastes to levels the law did not permit, underworld lords who needed jobs done and were willing to pay generously, there was no shortage of people who needed the services he eventually wished to provide. As such, it was imperative that he find out just who these men and women, who were all but untouchable by law were. Because as uneasy as the thought made him, that was where his future business lay. Also, knowing just who the people he did not want to cross were was a huge advantage in not being killed himself.
As such, the two clones trawled the streets and wandered the slums, keeping an eye out for the more visible elements of British underworld. There were the obvious thugs. And above them were the local gang leaders or whatever they called them in these parts. And then, above those was where true organization really began. Local muggers and the like were small time petty crooks, a rather pitiful lot. Similar to them were the solo whores and their pimps. Still separate were the drug peddlers and users. They were all dime a dozen in the slum-like areas of the city.
But the 'elite' criminals operated at a different level. They were the ones who dealt in number games. Extortion, racketeering, kidnapping and so on and so forth were crimes where you dealt with high figures of cash. They required a certain classiness to pull it off and stay 'clean'.
The underworld was everywhere if you knew where to look. They dealt in drugs, flesh trade (and its not just women who get trafficked), kidnapping, extortion, murder, pit fighting, among others. They were basically large scale operations and relied on tactics and hired muscle. The bosses needed a lot of thugs and consequently, maintained their own sets of them. As such, they were plenty, none too bright and tended to be tough in a brawl.
Britain as a whole had near crippling gun laws, which put the people who actually wanted firearms in a bind. Consequently, unlike America, there was no bountiful supply of semi automatic pistols for the street level goon to shoot each other with. Melee weaponry was the rule, not the exception, and battles usually involved beating each other until only one side was standing. That is assuming of course that they weren't just knifed to death.
On the other hand, organized crime supplied their elements with pretty advanced weaponry, which were not used too often because frankly, they weren't needed. There was an undercurrent of subtlety and the clones could themselves see that local policemen, where they existed, whether willingly or in fear for their own lives, ignored the signs of people "carrying". So it was that instead of finding anything about the very top of the food chain, Cat and Bear stumbled upon the enabler, an arms dealer.
When they had originally gone in search of immoral people who were likely to be clients, there was a need to find someone who could lead them to the top. Unfortunately, local muggers did not know anything that they needed. So they played a game of asking questions and finding people, using copious amounts of genjutsu to loosen the tongue in ways money could not. Of course, watching people look spooked at the sight of what looked like a Jedi mind trick was just a bonus. By the end of that particular day, they had a lot of names of small time mobsters and had managed to "interview" one or two of them. That had led to new found knowledge of "the way of things". Also, they had learnt that guns were a plenty, if you had the cash and knew where to look.
When Cat and Bear had gone to the location they had eventually found, a warehouse in a part of the city they had not bothered to search, they did not expect to see a couple of men milling about carrying pistols and sub-machine guns. The local dealer was at least East European in origin and had a habit of grinning as he conducted his business. But language and temperament issues aside, he obviously had goods and knew them quite well.
So, in order to continue their mission, Cat remained behind to spy on the local happenings and Bear went on to "interview" the rest of the names on his list. Eventually, he would move on to the people who were "mid" level in the organizations that warred over London in their pursuit of territory. And finally, Harry Potter would close in on those who were the true puppeteers of the world. The question was, what would he do afterwards?
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The Spirit Shadow was on the trail of the most frustrating target any ship of the Japanese Navy had ever faced. Elusive and flighty, the SS class demon was a mighty foe. However, for some reason, they had finally locked on to a clear and interference free signal. What possible reason a creature like this would have to stay in this part of the country was not known. However, it did mean that their rendezvous with the Harusame, over the English channel had to be suitably delayed. Of course, the fact that if they managed to contain the beast right here, the meeting would not have to occur was left unsaid. Whichever the culture, there were always some people you just wished to avoid.
The ship sailed at full speed to a particular part of Surrey where they had narrowed the source of their signal to. Then they waited. The containment team had to be fully prepared and the ship prepped for support. The waiting was finally over.
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Mantis sighed. It could be said his was the most boring task of all. He had to purchase an assortment of combat knives. But in fact, the knives were already brought. His real job was to go around and collect the pre ordered knives from the various locations around London.
Because of his second world war experience, Richards had educated Harry in basic self defense using a knife. Specifically, a Fairbairn Sykes fighting knife, a British design that was close to a stiletto. The double edged dagger was one of the few "real" weapons that a young Harry Potter had handled and was enamored with. It was also kept in a very very safe location, along with other items that the old man had willed to him.
While a knife wasn't a sword, Harry was fully prepared to arm himself with plenty of knives, hidden and easily deployed, for when that sword isn't enough. Or if he was disarmed. Knives are excellent weapons if you knew your way around them well enough. If not, you'd be better off without touching them at all.
So, Harry had asked around and found local makers for the rather iconic dagger, and other models as well. He had thoroughly investigated them from behind genjutsu and was satisfied. So, when he finally had the money, he had immediately ordered after McGonogall visited. And now, he could collect. Which was where Mantis came in. His job was simply to run around and collect the knives from the various places and people he had entrusted them to. Mantis wondered if his "brothers" were having better luck.
Harry had gotten several styles of knives, from the stiletto based FS, and Gerber Mark II, to the more slashing oriented bowie types, like the KA-BAR and its derivatives. Also purchased were boot knives, neck knives, and so on, a full arsenal of knives. It was good to have cash. Thankfully, his investments were beginning to show results even this early. Otherwise, it would have been rather unwise to spend all his money to buy weaponry that he wouldn't be using yet.
Of course, finding readily available Tanto designs was a pleasant surprise, as they had been popular in America for a while. It didn't do much except give him a set of proper carbon steel daggers of a style he had familiarized himself with for a while now. Many companies seemed to have them, but with the instinct of somebody who knew his blades, and a little chakra technique and genjutsu or two, he had picked up his own set of multiple length Tanto.
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There was one clone however that was tasked with doing something less productive than worry about weapons or information. Fox was perhaps the most unique of all the clones sent to London proper. Fox was also the beginning of a new direction of the shadow clone. While all the other clones had been more or less the same as all the other ones Harry had created over the last two years, Fox was special.
Unlike the others, Fox was sent as an afterthought, an incomplete clone. All the others had an assignment that was rather clear cut. Fox on the other hand had been created in a moment of clear distraction for Harry. Immediately after Hermione's insanity phase, he had been searching for a way to know exactly what his future height and build would be and had been stumped. In yet another moment of timely assistance, Hermione had told him about something called aging potion. It was simply brilliant. A vial or so and he could grow himself temporarily to a future version that gave a pretty good idea on what his future build was. And a height of 5'11 was not too bad. Idly, he had also noted that his choice of length for dual swords was still not a bad in the future.
Of course, having noted down the information and simply not having an immediate use for it, he had forgotten the matter altogether. But upon getting home. He had found something he had not considered before, his star wars hobby.
He was going to need bigger armor. Yes, the prized stormtrooper costume so steeped in the memory of his mentor would be too small once puberty hit him good and proper. In other words, if he wanted to continue to revel in making a mock stormtrooper armada or two (clones were useful for that) he would have to get new armor, fit to his size. Which would be a problem, since he knew neither the people nor the how to related with the building of cheap plastic costumes.
Thus Fox was made responsible for the more frivolous part of Harry's Christmas to-do list. His creation itself was in the midst of a distraction of the returning memories of a more temporary shadow clone. What resulted was that Fox was more interdependent than the others.
All shadow clones are created with three unforgettable pieces of knowledge. Three facts that no power could erase for the duration of their existence. The first of course was what the clone was created for, the purpose. The second was who the clone had the personality of, namely Harry. And finally, the fact that the clone was an expendable unit. This last one made the clone a very brave kamikaze unit, because it was extremely willing to sacrifice its very existence for the good of its creator.
Fox had the second part slightly twisted. He wasn't carrying ALL of Harry's personality. He was in a sense, defective. On the other hand, Fox was carrying one of the imaginary personalities that were half existent in the unused parts of Harry's brain. Fox had passed the threshold into a separate personality. Sure he was still Harry's willing slave, sure he'd sacrifice himself and return his memories, but the part that thought like Harry, did so no longer. Thus, instead of worrying about weapons like his creator, Fox was more concerned with how to cover himself up in bulletproof armor that looked cool. He also had a lot less qualms about doing the dirty work, but that wouldn't matter for now.
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There was a considerable commotion for the event of Hermione visits Harry. The Dursleys, all hyped up on Christmas could not comprehend why the little girl was spending her vacation with him instead of her own family. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but they could wonder couldn't they? The apparently happy go lucky girl with the same er... gifts as Harry was a delightful little girl who did not seem all there and was also a bit overly fixated on the boy. They would have called it a crush, but it was more like a kid with their favorite toy than anything romantic they could think of.
Hermione followed Harry to his room, quite happily planning all the all too fun things the two of them could be doing. Like target practice! Or another favorite she just knew the boy would love, Dodge the Bullets! Or sparring on vertical surfaces, or lecturing him on the uses of exotic multi-bladed weapons! Or... or... something else she would come up with later! Yes, poor boy, already shivering in anticipation as she thought out loud.
Obviously, her sanity was a bit conditional.
Harry shut the door almost the very instant the two had reached his room. A sound dampening seal on the walls activated, he turned and glared at his all too innocent looking classmate/stuff of nightmares, recent improvements notwithstanding .
"Why are you here? Isn't Christmas something to be spent with family?"
Sometimes irritation is the best cure for mind numbing logic induced fear. Maybe.
Hermione wasn't too phased. Harry was always grumpy like that. He really needed to loosen up, or he would get stress marks on his face by the years end.
"I know its Christmas. But then, I was getting bored and I knew that you would be getting bored and then I thought that I could help you not get bored which would help me not get bored and If we help each other not get bored then I wouldn't have to find you after I get bored which would be more boring but I know I'm not bored now because you're not so bored now but then again, you're looking more angry than bored and... and... I'm going to stop now yeah...?"
Harry however, was at least thankful that other people had not been drawn into the insanity surrounding the two of them. At the very least, couldn't the girl be the least bit rational?
"Granger! I'm entirely not sure exactly how you mean to alleviate my boredom, but for gods sake please leave anyone else out of it! Can you at least promise me that?"
Yes, a fine shinobi he was, reduced to this. Hermione didn't even bother to think about her answer.
"Sure Harry! Besides, nobody else is as fun as you are! Tell you what, I've thought about this, and I realized something! We have both got powers that the rest of the muggles or wizarding folk don't! That makes us..."
The drum roll was a bit much admittedly. As was the pose. Though, not as much as what came next...
"...SUPERHEROES!"
Harry knew he had to nip this in the bud, or he'd never ever get anything he wanted done. Inability to kill her be damned, but if he ever got stuck in anything resembling spandex, there would be blood. No time like the present to suitably send sanity into the abyss.
XXXX
The warehouse never truly shutdown. Given the illegal and valuable cargo contained within, roving guards carrying sub machine guns patrolled the area mercilessly, going so far as to eye wandering cats warily.
Cat had been the chosen "customer" earlier. With a couple of genjutsu and a thorough checking for any magical traces that may intrude upon their operation, they were happy enough to try and infiltrate the place in their own manner.
Their goal was two fold. One was to learn names. The other was to actually acquire equipment. He was a ninja, and unlike those idiotic wizards who whined about electricity not working around magic and don't try to solve the problem(and so stay in the middle ages), he was perfectly willing to train in the modern way of killing people. A silenced pistol is far more common than a kunai as a cause of death, in this world at least. And there were no doubt people he just wouldn't bother to stab to death. Though, the fact that he had yet to actually kill someone was a curious fact, unless you counted Voldemort, which was really a whole different story.
The idea was to convince the head of the operation, "Boris" that he had been recommended by a trusted source. This fictitious recommended fellow had no prior knowledge, but could be trusted to a terrible degree. This would be accomplished by genjutsu that was controlled by the victim itself, a "trust me, I'm your friend" genjutsu, that turned him into the victims most trusted person. Then genjutsu was applied to inject feelings and emotions that served to subvert the gut instinct that people relied on. In essence, this second genjutsu was given a result to achieve, and the target nervous system would do the needful to achieve it. It was however, highly chakra intensive, as control had essentially been relinquished to the victim of the genjutsu. Thankfully, it worked quickly enough.
From what he could decipher, "Boris", (a more cliched pseudonym there never was...) the heavily cliched stereotypical Russian giant (complete with fur coat and villain-ish facial hair) was a very simple man. He didn't have any morals to speak of, but he didn't engage in any vices either. A person who simply did not care. The only things he cared about were the guns of the world. He made a nice clean profit in illegal arms, but did not try to peddle unnecessarily either. He surrounded himself with mercenaries, and watched the world as it came out with new ways to kill single people at a distance
However, it also looked like this was the only person they could go to for their needs in the immediate future. Bear and Cat had sighed despondently before moving on to actually buy a gun, even if it meant dealing with that Russian accent, even if he was fluent enough.
"So my friend, what type of weapon do you want? Beginners prefer semi automatic pistols. Cheap, and excellent for a first time. Or do you like submachine guns? Cheap rain of bullets. Not my favorite, but plenty like them. Rifles are many and need skill. I would advise that you know exactly what you want if you are planning to buy rifles."
Well, Pistols were more suited for his goals. That and snipers, but he didn't think he was ready for that kind of lethality yet...
Boris placed the pistol on the table, expertly dismantling and reassembling it in a very impressive manner, showing a lot of practice with the weapon.
"This is a Makarov, fires 9 by 18 mm round. Standard issue soviet side arm. Eight round magazine, effective range of 50 meters. My favorite of them all. Nostalgic yes?"
Cat took the unloaded weapon and weighed it. Less than a kilo, and it was somewhat small. He nodded.
Another weapon joined them on the table.
"This, is Colt M1911, fires .45 ACP, with a 7 round magazine. Bigger bullet, but slower. Americans love this weapon. They say it beats 9mm every time, but again, they are yanks..."
Again, he took it and aimed down the sight.
"This, is a Walther PP. Big brother to PPK, your friend James Bond's favorite weapon. Round for this particular barrel is .380 ACP. Small bullet, but more concealable. Magazine holds seven rounds."
And so went the demonstration. Despite having only seven different models in stock, he promised to get any model within a month. To demonstrate the weapons available, he took out an encyclopedia style publication, in a language he did not know. The script was roman, (as opposed to Cyrillic) but he couldn't understand the words. On the other hand, the marks that denoted availability of models were very abundant. Who knew so many models of pistols existed? And the man described nearly a hundred more in between too. The man was a poorly hidden gun enthusiast and was eloquent when asked to elaborate. In those three hours, Cat believed that he learned more about semi automatic pistols than he would in the rest of his life.
Due to the large amount of cash that Harry could now access, he could afford to stock up on the equipment that he would be soon enough be applying to training. However, Harry did not feel ready to commit with the more modern pistols, he lacked the experience necessary to categorically state what he needed. On the other hand, his inherited collection held examples of two wartime pistols, the Luger P08, and the Walther P38, both working types, and both pistols he had spent his fair share of time poking, and analyzing the workings of. The problem with the former was its ease of jamming, the complicated Toggle lock operation requiring a strict cleanliness, and the latter was relatively problem free, as far as he could tell.
Although, once he got his swords, he would be perfectly happy with a holdout pistol. But not yet. Though, the practice could come in handy...
"I'll take 500 rounds of 9 mm Luger. I have a Walther P38 I would like to practice on."
Boris nodded with a pleased expression. A sale was always good.
"Good! I may also have some extra magazines for P38 lying around from few years back. I will sell them cheap, but they may need some cleaning."
Not much of a problem that. Harry did get a new holster for the weapon.
After he "left", Cat continued to snoop around, seeing what other goodies Boris had been sitting on. Despite the outer appearance, the warehouse was fairly empty. Some crates of ammunition, a few sub machine guns and what appeared to be two Kalashnikovs. The man did not keep his merchandise visible.
Bear of course, was not idle and was using his time to make a trip back to Privet drive. Harry would soon find some goodies in his trunk. Of course, the semi independent clone would have to disperse first.
XXXX
After a spirited twenty minutes of weird logic that would have made the Quibbler proud, Harry quickly shuffled his insane associate away from populated areas and into the local park, which was at the time marginally less populated on account of the freezing cold, daylight notwithstanding.
Walking arm in arm, the two could have been assumed to be a young couple enjoying the holidays. Although, if anyone had seen the two scamper up a tall tree like a pair of squirrels, they would have revised their opinion.
In any case, the two were comfortably nestled in the upper branches of a generic tree, which was covered in snow. Harry had finally asked his companion what exactly the relationship they had was. Were they friends? Allies? Mutually benefiting acquaintances? Or any other of the innumerable terms humanity invented (at least, in the English or Japanese that he understood) to define cordial relationships.
Hermione had thought for a bit, and had opened her mouth to reply when both of them stiffened with unease. Something was wrong. Harry took out his battered kodachi, Hermione drew out her Single Action Army, and they waited, in an unnatural stillness and silence, unaware of the drama that was right on top of them.
XXXX
The "extra" passenger on the ship was a little panicked. There really should not have been a real life source of the signature that the sensors told the crew was an SS class World Eater. She did not know what was the original source of the particular signature that the sensors were given and supposed to be tracking, but had been assured that it was "a monster that did not exist any more". As a result of this unexpected real life presence of this signature (that had conveniently taken the place of a real World Eater signature) though, the entire ship was going into combat against an enemy that should not exist.
The real problem was not the imminent fight though. Harusame was supposed to have docked with this ship five minutes ago. However, this mishap had resulted in the entire thing being called off. Now the original plan, which she did not know, and would not have been participating in, could not be effected. It was time for the worst case scenario, as far as she was concerned. Slaughter and sabotage.
From the floor of the unused cargo bay, the female infiltrator rose. She was clad in a full length black body glove, with select armor at shoulders, forearms and shins. It was designed to prevent any and all emission of magic, an expensive, and fragile stealth suit. She was armed with the same magic resistant weapons that were used by ninja field operatives. However, she also carried a single Steyr Mpi 81. Ordinary ship crew should not be able to defend against such things. She was Hornet, and she would succeed.
Sorcery in the east was highly based on energy and motion. A sorcerer attacked by sending a bolt of lightning at you from the sky above or by sending a wave of water at you. Transfiguration, as known in the west was almost totally left alone. For one, it was fairly short term and was highly inefficient in their conversions. The closest equivalent was to turn transmutation, which did not convert any of the elements involved.
Also, a sorcerers defenses were partly anti firearm in nature, designed as it were to oppose small mass high velocity objects. Arrows were quite troublesome, bullets fairly more so. To the trained sorcerer/mage, neither represent a credible threat, as they tended to have automatic defenses (British called them wards) anchored to their clothes, keyed to such things, among others. Hence, ninja opted to do close up kills, sprinting at very high speeds to stab or behead an unwary magic user. However, individual sorcerers were more, or less sensitive to magic, sometimes to such an extent that sorcerer to sorcerer combat could be accomplished over distances as large as five miles. At close ranges, even the slightest hint of magic emitted by the body may alert the sorcerer of malicious intent.
In order to accomplish this, ninja had to entirely abandon the use of external magics. No particular focus was used. All magic was fairly internal. As such, ninja magic for the last three hundred used revolved around enhancing the body. Magic was used to control metabolism, senses, body structure and so on. At the higher skill sets, a ninja could speed up the body and mind until the world slowed down. Still, it was not always enough, and sometimes ninja died in spite of skill, preparation and surprise.
Firearms were not traditional ninja weapons in any case. Ninja were not traditionally sent to deal with ordinary humans, against whom such a pistol or sniper rifle would have been highly effective. Ninja sent to take care of Rogue ninja, or said rogue ninja themselves sometimes carried them, as ordinary people and ninja did not have the all encompassing fortress style defenses that sorcerers employed. But then, being ninja, they usually had some means of avoiding getting shot...
XXXX
The first crewman she found was an off duty officer. A flick of the wrist, and a four inch dull black spike went through his throat and spine. She did not even bother to check her handiwork. The rear of the ship was fairly deserted, seeing as many of the men were on standby to provide assistance to the containment team, leaving her path clear of potential corpses. It was standard practice that once the preliminary containment was achieved, there was little need to move from place as most of the battle would be a contest of power and focus between the target and the team, with the assistance of the ships equipment. Destruction of such a high class foe was literally worth the damage that might be sustained by a ship.
Consequently, the magical reactor, what they called the ships heart (literally, as the entire "power-plant" was based on sorcery and animal hearts) was crewed by a skeleton crew. The comparatively large room, covered with arcane symbols and odd devices, many of which must have served no purpose at all, was barely glanced at before the intruder began her grim work.
As soon as Dragon entered, two poisoned spikes were hammered into the heads of two men huddled over a station. Still in motion, her gun rose and spat fire, emptying a 25 round clip into six men, who were hovering next to the main control, in an almost perfect position for a single burst. Four men fell, splattering blood over the console and floor. And the weapon was dropped after clicking empty, for the next part was close quarters.
Two of them were ninja and had refused to die, moving as soon as they had sensed the intruder. A moment after she entered, they had moved out of the way so as to avoid any projectiles she may have sent their way, avoiding the rain of lead she had sent at them in that in that split second advantage she had. Consequently, they were not in the locations that were fired at, seeing as she had only a fraction of a second to pick her targets.
So the black clad woman raced across the room, dropping the empty pistol and drawing out two dull black Jian in a flourish as she jumped at her two opponents, who were wielding a pair of Sai and a katana.
Due to the proximity of the highly volatile and sensitive equipment, the three were fairly subdued, staying away from the more flashy acrobatics that could have destroyed all of them in a flash. And Dragon was skilled enough to hold off the slightly longer reaching katana and the short and quick Sai.
Two minutes into the high speed melee, the katana wielder was beheaded. The woman had let her right shoulder be stabbed clean through with a Sai, even as her right arm had beheaded the first fellow. A hit from the Sai, a stab wound was much more preferable to the loss of a head or limb the katana would have accomplished. She was quick enough that her lone opponent could not capitalize on her weakness. Another thirty seconds later, the second ninja also lay on the floor, a Jian through the groin having suitably incapacitated him. She took a few seconds of rest before finishing off the incapacitated ninja. The next part was the really tricky bit.
The Spirit Shadow had 24 spheres called celestial orbs in various locations on the ship, each slightly bigger than a basketball, which served as both capacitors and power distributors, that supplied raw magical energy to the different systems, whether they be life support, or the lift system that kept the ship airborne. The power to this whole system was provided from the heart of the ship, where she was. The ship as a whole, despite its magical origin was divided up along surface navy fashion, with quite similar in purpose (because they were definitely not similar in function) equipment, a way of letting a crew of squibs, ninja and sorcerers operate the vessel.
The heart room had five cylinders, at the corners of a pentacle, with a larger cylinder in the center, with various displays and small stations here and there. Each translucent, glowing cylinder contained a suspended rigid sphere, the heart of an animal dead of natural causes turned via sorcery into a red sphere, a heart stone. In a ship of this size, this meant that the heart of ravens, pigs or horses could be used, each subtly changing the performance of the ship accordingly. Heart stones drew magic directly from the fabric of the universe, supplying it in a more usable form. This sorcery had been around a long time and was a very exact art. Controls and balances kept the power drawn from the systems at a rate that ensured the ship and its systems remained intact and not vaporized.
Dragon carefully fiddled with the controls, pushing buttons and turning dials until the produced power was greater than what the celestial orbs could safely handle, something that was extremely difficult when you consider the safeguards built into the thing. In theory this would eventually overload them, blowing up the ship. Next, she smashed up the visible controls, preventing anyone from saving the now doomed ship. She sheathed the two swords and holstered the discarded pistol and left the room.
The woman ran towards the life boats, an arm slightly hindering her thanks to blood loss and pain. Pain could be ignored, but not completely forgotten. She reached the closest vessel and boarded it. A quickly entered password, known only to command crew, told the boat to leave the ship without alerting anyone inside. A whole section of outer hull opened up and allowed the craft, which resembled a fully enclosed and winged powerboat to leave and speed off. The hull then closed up behind her.
The small crafts emergency transmitter was carefully adjusted and a single word was sent to the universe. Her mission was finally done.
XXXX
The first sign that something was wrong was when the celestial orb right next to the bow exploded. It was a very dangerous area, especially considering that one of the magazines was nearby in a heavily armored section. The resulting secondary explosions nearly blew off a full fifth of the ship, killing off a few men too.
Nearly twenty seconds after, not quite enough time for anybody to begin damage control, the others began to explode, shattering many sections of the hull and blowing off magically charged wooden armor plate from the outside. In the end, only two were left intact, at a capacity close to but not quite beyond maximum. They were saved because the last exploded orb also took out the ships heart, annihilating the heart stones and rendering the entire power grid inert. A full half of the ships crew, not to mention all but one of the containment team lay dead, including the men dead from the intruders direct hand.
With the loss of majority of the ships systems, the ship was rendered fully visible to any magical being, the innate nature of the vessel thankfully rendering it still invisible to normal people. Emergency systems immediately began to turn the ship towards the closest water body that would allow it to be safely ditched, the Straits of Dover.
The captain of the ship had been killed, along with most of the command crew. So command fell to Toshiro, who did not relish the promotion.
"Damage Report!"
The crew of the sensor room had been wounded rather severely when the ship had decided to roll. So there was a slight delay as more cognizant men were helping their comrades with basic first aid. Even limbs could be regrown (with difficulty) but it was pointless if they did not survive to get the required treatments. As a consequence of this though, many of the more severe wounds were cauterized, without anesthetic. The first two minutes were spent in blood and screams.
A blood stained crewman with a broken arm shouted and tapped away at a flickering screen that was scrolling text at a haphazard rate. And cursed. The ship was a total loss. It was barely staying up as it was and wasn't even salvage worthy. Entire sections had disappeared from the power "systems". The heart was gone. Just two celestial orbs were active, powering propulsion, life support and basic navigational aids. The only thing left was to safely scuttle her.
Toshiro, by now having a good idea as to exactly how desperate the situation really was, ordered the crew to abandon ship. He, along with the last member of the containment team decided to stay with the slowly accelerating wreck until it was assured that she would drop into deep water. Secrecy was paramount, even in this crisis. Of course, it would not have been an issue if they were sailing over Asia. But Europe was an entirely different matter. Of course, they did not forget to send a distress signal to the nearest friendly vessel, along with a communication to look out for survivors.
The remaining crew was quickly loaded onto the "life boats", three man, short ranged, barrel shaped vessels that would nonetheless get them to at least the English channel, leaving alone those which had been blown away or rendered inoperable. With nothing to lose, the outer hull sections were blown away, as opposed to neatly opened, letting the smaller vessels get off the ship. Also came the more versatile powerboat with wings types of which two had been in storage, but one survived, which held the surviving ninja contingent, all six of them. They would head for Takeda's base in central London.
XXXX
Both Harry and Hermione had heard the distant explosion quite a distance above them. Both were admittedly shocked when they made out the clear frame of an odd looking ship tilting to the side and expelling debris. A more observant clone used up all its chakra to send the few people in the park outside with a really strong genjutsu.
In the next few minutes, they were treated to the sight of several smaller shapes racing away from the bigger shape which had first been falling towards the ground, but had seemingly stopped its decent and had rolled side over side two times before beginning to slowly lumber towards the east, seemingly at an angle, like a ship that was half sunk, trailing smoke and debris. Frankly it looked a bit like some airship disaster. Above them, small pieces of debris were just falling like rain.
While most of it simply seemed to be shredded wood, some of the debris was far more intriguing.
Seeing as there was no immediate danger, the two relaxed and began to look around. Harry sent his clones to scour the park for whatever they could see.
In the end, the most interesting bits included some badly damaged, if intact metal safes, pieces of furniture, mysterious lumps of various sizes of metal and even a burnt wok that looked to have been perforated from a hand grenade explosion.
The park having been empty, was reasonably undisturbed. And a strong wind jutsu swept up the small bits of debris that would have marked the existence of the odd incidence.
Hermione left after sunset, telling Harry that she would be back later. The vacation wasn't at an end and tomorrow was Christmas proper. More fun could always be had later.
Of course just when things had finally settled down he was treated to a set of memories of a very odd shadow clone.
XXXX
Wolf smiled. It had taken a while, but his quest, perhaps the most difficult of them all was over.
"It will take three months. I shall have your blades ready for delivery in three months. Are you sure you will not let me engrave upon it?"
Wolf shook his head. Finding an actual swords smith in the middle of London had been next to impossible. Never mind one who would create the obviously Japanese weapons he required. So Wolf was not entirely surprised to find said blade smith was American. It had taken a long time, he had asked around, jumping between locations in the city until he found who he needed. Eventually, he had stumbled upon this man in his early thirties, not a recognized master of any sort, but certainly, this obscurely located fellow had done excellent work. His displayed Japanese katana were of high quality giving hope that these simpler chokuto style blades would be of good quality. With the high price he had pushed on the blades, the smith had quite pridefully declared that if the blades were not to his satisfaction, he would replace the set for free. Perhaps the one thing that the man had done, that gained his respect was to not ask questions beyond those needed to fulfill design. Obviously, the guy was a professional, not to mention discrete. So more pluses there. So he really had no problem ordering two kodachi as well. Might as well stick with proper short swords.
Well, that was one mission completed. Wolf slipped behind a building and dispelled, bewildering two shifty looking characters who had been following the "easy mark".
XXXX
Above the English Channel, the Harusame sailed invisibly over the ocean, at a height of 500 meters. The ship was fairly large and resembled an ancient Japanese fortress on a water hull. Being a vessel not usually sent outside friendly territory, it did not have the complicated passive magical wards and defenses oriented towards making it unseen by magical beings of any kind. Consequently, it stayed above open water, where wizards tended not to tread.
As the first boat approached, a beacon was used to guide it in. It was the infiltrator/stowaway and was clearly expected. A hanger of sorts opened up in the rear and let the new arrival glide in.
The next arrivals did not fare as well. . As soon as the ships were close enough to be unable to escape, ports opened up on the side and bright orbs lanced out at near sonic velocities, vaporizing the life boats from the doomed Japanese vessel. In ten minutes, proper targeting had ensured the annihilation of the every boat that had headed for that beacon. The ship had been specially overhauled for combat three months ago, and consequently was much more heavily armed than usual.
Nearly an hour later, the Spirit Shadow slowly reached the same location. Sections of the ship that had been only mildly damaged were now on fire an it was obvious to anyone there that the nobody was still alive. Still, the ship had to be sunk, so the Chinese vessel lined up what passed for her bow at the other ship and let loose a single shot. The projectile was a naval sixteen inch shell, used in battleships. Not an actual such shell of course, but the subsequent explosion was impressive enough. Especially to the two wizards on broomsticks down below who had come up to see what the commotion was all about. Five minutes later, all parties had departed the scene, leaving nothing but some floating wood far below.
XXXX
Harry looked bug eyed at all the stuff that was in the garage. The really odd part was that he hadn't paid for it himself. Well, odd for him. It might have to do with the fact that by his new memories, he had just killed a lot of really evil people. Or it might have been that a certain Fox masked clone had broken up two entire drug distribution operations, leaving behind nearly seventy bodies. Or maybe it was the storage scroll that had was labeled six million pounds. Fox had been busy. The mass storage scroll marked "armor" was not really curing his headache either.
Sitting in a corner was a bunch of stolen star wars costumes, including a Bobba Fett style Mandalorian helmet, a full set of adult stormtrooper armor, a full Biker scout armor, and neatly sliced quarter size pieces of Tie pilot helmet. This day couldn't possibly get any more weird.
Thankfully, it didn't. However, he still had to go through the memories of an very active clone who had lost any desire to follow the law. Not to mention, the brutal slaughter of drug runners and associates, who had been totally outmatched by a shadow clone was going to be troublesome. Having never killed before, it was going to take some getting used to. Stabbing fifty people with just a kitchen knife and shooting the rest would probably give him nightmares for a while. On the other hand, Fox had proved beyond a doubt the superiority of a Naruto style shinobi against firearm equipped adversaries. Of course, the mad clone had at least kept his mask on at all times, so any possible electronic evidence would not be traced to him. At least the clone had spent only two whole nights in a near psychopathic killing spree, followed by the robbing spree, although, the money was from criminal sources so who was he to complain? The clone had also somehow found the time to sit down and write a treatise on sealing formulas necessary to ensure structural integrity on impact by firearm ammunition. Of course, that would still take a while to complete...
Well, at least he could use the armor, once this new field of research was properly worked out. Bulletproofing himself was looking like a good idea, especially when he saw the result of the lethality of a bullet to unprotected humanity. He was really beginning to wish he had stayed here. Where was he going to find the time to do something without having to rely on clones?
XXXX
Hermione (the real one) meanwhile spent an awful lot of time in quiet contemplation, so much so that her parents actively tried to talk to her about it. She avoided it only as someone with a lot of practice could, with skill and deception. She was wondering about when her new powers were supposed to kick in. Aurora had mentioned a while, but in her terms could mean ten minute to a century. It was not that she was over eager about being able to change the universe at its base level (well, not much anyway) but in her more grounded moments, she could really see the appeal of running around and doing whatever odd things that Harry could come up with. The boy wasn't quite stable, not entirely and seemed to be on a quest of some fashion. Well, she could help with that. She just had to reign in her more chaotic tendencies. And her urges to play dodge the bullet. And lets not forget her miserable childhood induced superhero fetish. Yes, it was perfectly logical. Now if only Harry wouldn't run off screaming (as he should?) when she tells him that Hermione Granger is never going to abandon Harry Potter!
XXXX
Christmas was actually quite boring. Sure there was a tree and presents and carols, but thinking about what fox had done, his mind simply could not muster the effort to pretend to be happy. Vernon was concerned, but left him alone. Reformed or not, that man would never be allowed to "help" Harry again.
His sleep was disturbed by visions of massacres, both real and imagined. But Harry tried not to shy away, for this was also a part of him he could not ignore. He wasn't quite successful though.
XXXX
Hayate looked at the disturbing reports on his desk.
One was from the captain of the Harusame. It was a report which basically said that they saw nothing until it was too late. That by the time the Japanese vessel had reached there area, they were only able to watch as the Dragon Boat sank into British waters. The rest of it was rubbish.
The other one was from the ninja that had gone towards London and safely met with Takeda and his men. They reported an ominous series of explosions, consistent with a cascading failure in the celestial orbs. This meant that somebody had managed to completely subvert every single one of the various detection systems and magical artifacts a vessel of that type could carry. While it certainly was impressive enough, it was not something he could admire when it was done against a ship on a mission he had set up. And something like this is normally a prelude to war, something their resident seer had no inkling of. So it was either isolated incident with no significant bearing on the future, or somebody or many somebodies had managed to circumvent the entire Japanese system, at every single level.
If it was the former, they could recover. If it was the latter, there would be no chance at all, for any of them, even without an SS class foe breathing down their necks.
Of course, if it was the latter, could they have somehow undermined their seer as well? Sorcery could do incredible things if you have knowledge, imagination and power. Was it possible that their target was actually not there?
Suddenly this possibility started to take hold in his mind. This next move might be risky, but could be a better use of his rather inflexible resources. If it came down to it, he would rather sacrifice his entrenched position in Britain than to risk a complete system collapse here. Whatever the cause, a coup would be terrible, successful or not. Of course, he would tell Takeda that he was likely waiting for death, but that was life for an actual ninja, dying if it was part of your orders.
And then of course, if both reports were true, there existed a mysterious foe that could stay undetected and wipe out every lifeboat that made it off that sinking ship. It looked like he had to call back most of his foreign assets for a better idea of the home front. He would even have to cooperate with the other ninja clans. What a mess...
XXXX
Horse looked at his creator with supremely concealed amusement. Learning to turn sheet plastic into vacuum formed armor was quite difficult. So it was that twenty different clones were doing various jobs that were quite new to them. Sculpting and making molds were not your average ninja skill. So actually making the plastic and combat useless armor would take a while.
On the other hand, he was learning how to use automotive paints to give his armor a better camouflage when he finally made his personalized sealing enhanced custom armor set. Well, he would once he learnt how to get the sheets into proper shape.
At least he had finally shifted from the stormtrooper helmet. The thing simply had no visibility to speak off. Neither did the others, but a scout trooper helmet certainly worked wonders for visibility. Perhaps a more personalized version, with a grill for using those pesky mouth origin wind jutsu, and a metal cage for better impact resistance, and even some helmet liner. Yes that would work best, and the rest of the armor could stay about the same, with better shoulder guards, or even pauldrons. Yes it would work nicely.
And Horse quietly sketched the ideas that his creator was spouting off, knowing that he would certainly be embarrassed to see himself drool like that. What a Christmas present that would be!
XXXX
The rest of that vacation passed simply enough. Harry worked on several things at once, and took it upon himself to learn more about ballistics. Hermione wandered about, learning and acting, having fun that had been missing in her life. Several People around the world wondered what had happened in the skies of Britain. And Department Of Mysteries department head went for more headache relief potion at the latest report on his desk. The beginning of 1993 was just one big headache all round.
XXXX
A/N:
And thats where I'll leave you for the moment. A lot of things necessary and unnecessary in this chapter, mostly for the long haul. I'm posting this without explaining everything because I'm hoping to keep the surprise. On the other hand, I will respond to PMs so if you must know, I will answer your questions.
The guns are not going to be important anytime soon, just a hint of Harry trying to explore the real world.
The ship was destroyed and a lot of unnamed OCs are dead. This is mostly to start having peripheral effects that ripple from all directions.
The metal ship will come in about a few chapters later.
The mad clone is going to have effects, which shall be unnamed and you can probably guess.
Harry's first kill, even if it was from a split personality clone. Going to expand on all the muggle connections in the next chapter.
I hoped to get a relative of Harry's mentor in, but by the time I wrote the scene, I couldn't really fit it in. so meh...
not my best chapter, and the next one may be shorter, but I hope you like it. I had to stop myself from just rambling myself so I left it like this than try for a 20k words chapter, this is about 13k as it is.
I am aiming to write a big story, and that includes elements that expand beyond Hogwarts and indeed Britain itself. As a ninja wannabe, Harry has to deal with the whole of the world, because he himself has never really considered himself just a wizard. This is an AU so don't complain about that please. I do enjoy writing like this, so any hints and suggestions that help will be greatly appreciated.
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