[Ranma][FanFic] Biker 1/2 book 2 chapter 5
Doghead Thirteen
Okay, okay. I'll admit it, it's my fault. Whatever the hell it is.
Yup, you got it! I'm back! And it's RANT TIME!
What the hell is this crap these cheeseball fly-by-night dickheads think
they're pulling? No, I'm not talking any of my usual whines - I'm
talking internet service providers and the British fucking government.
I just spent two fucking hours trying to find a browser-based Usenet
access point that lets you get at absolutely fucking anything and
doesn't charge you for the fucking privelige, and I found me at least
two hundred different sets of these idiots in the UK alone - and every
last bitch of 'em had a huge 'LOOK IT DOESN'T COST YOU ANYTHING!!!!'
splash page followed by an explanation two pages later that you have to
give them thirty or something fucking quid a month of your credit card
(which I don't have one of and wouldn't spend if I did) for the
privelige of getting to see their screamedly free service.
Now where did I put that shotgun, I've got a bunch of lieing dickheads
to talk to...
Okay people - here goes nothing. Just when you thought I'd dropped off
the face of the planet I've got a gigaton of Biker 1/2 ready to hi the
net; I've spent enough time sitting on this thing and worrying if it's
right. Fuck it, there's not that much I'm worried about. So the original
plot for the first half of book 2's gone flying out the window; to hell
with that, there's enough going on to keep this thing rolling.
Bombs away.
Previous chapters of this monstrosity (including the entirety of book 1)
can be found in several places - the TASS/RAAC archives (for some reason
their bots didn't put book 2 in the Biker 1/2 folder) fanfiction.net and
Studio Asynjor (a.k.a http://www.asynjor.com/fanfic/index.html) which
for now can be counted as the official Biker 1/2 webpage until I finally
manage to get something more personalised written. Don't get onto me as
to what the heck everything's arranged like on the above sites - the
only involvement I have in them is A) guy who posts stuff on RAAC and B)
satisfied user.
I'd advise first-time readers of Biker 1/2 to go to one of the above
sites and read book 1 since I sincerely doubt you'd be able to work out
what the heck's going on if you didn't; this is the second of a series
of 100,000+ word books.
And with that wibble out the way it's on with the show.
Words in "{this}" kind of brackets are spoken in Cantonese. Those in
"[this]" are in wolf-speak.
Biker 1/2 Cycle 1 - Birth of a Modern Legend, book 2: Severed.
Chapter 5: Kansas is goin' bye-bye.
"Built man in the twenty-first century - I am God and God loves me.
Built man in the twenty-first century - I am God and God loves me." -
Goteki, 'We Can Rebuild You'
"America wasn't what I expected." - Shampoo, describing her first
impression of the United States of America.
***********************************
Colonel Eiichi Honda groaned when his cellphone went off. It was utterly
typical of his luck; there he was, carefully observing 601 Special
Operations Group going through their paces and someone had to phone him.
"Hello, Honda here."
"Good afternoon, Colonel."
His annoyance vanished.
"Nabiki! I was beginning to think you'd got sick of my voice or
something. So, how are things down in Nerima?"
"Looking up at fucking last. Mi Soon has a handle on where Ranma and Dad
have gotten to... that's part of why I called."
"It is? So, where are they?"
"All I know is it wasn't as bad as Mi Soon feared. They're still on this
planet at least. The first thing I need is a little detective work.
You'll find six photographs on your email. They're of a man named John
Kirth. I need to know if he's left Japan, and if so where he went. The
second thing I need is a way to get a team wherever the hell Ranma is."
"I'm on it."
***********************************
Nabiki put the phone down and started casually flicking through her
notebook. She selected a new number, dialled and waited. After about six
rings the phone was answered by a voice saying "Good afternoon, Miss
Tendo."
Nabiki smiled slightly.
"And a good afternoon to you, oyabun. I trust business is going well?"
"Simply superb, my dear. I can but assume this is not a pleasure call?"
"You are as correct as ever. Widen the search to an international
scale."
"International? That will have it's difficulties. We-"
"Oyabun, there are five Triads and the Central Intelligence Agency also
working on this search. It would not look good for you to dally. I do
not want a stone left unturned. Find my father."
She put the phone down.
***********************************
"Guess this magic shit's simpler than I figured."
Mi Soon nodded. "Indeed, Ryoga. The traditional dribbly candles,
assorted skulls, daft robes and so forth are mainly there for effect.
When it comes down to it, one can perform a decent scrying spell with
any body of still liquid. Your average magi would have one believe it
has to be done in a crystal bowl of purified water. However, a saucepan
full of tapwater works perfectly. In fact, I've seen it done in a bowl
of dead engine oil, a stagnant water butt and even a bowl of soup. Magic
has to be the least discriminating force in the known universe. It will
work perfectly happily anywhere, as long as the motivating force is
there it runs. Take your motorcycle's engine. It would run just as
happily in a superbike as it would in the rat your brother built it
into."
"So it ain't th' materials that count, it's what ya do with 'em, right?"
"Exactly."
Po Da stalked into the living room.
"I understand you're looking to contact the Record Keeper."
"Ah, yes I am."
Po Da snorted and pulled her cellphone out of her pocket.
"So what do you want with the old bogey this time?"
Mi Soon shrugged. "Think about it. We've got a stray Saotome
god-only-knows-where. A stray Saotome who's probably making an awful lot
of noise about it. Who's the most likely person to have heard
something?"
"I see. Indeed, our Lord will probably have - what's the term - gone
more than a little apeshit, meaning someone will have probably got more
than a little upset."
***********************************
Mi Soon would later ask Po Da if she was psychic, to which the cunning
old healer would reply that no she wasn't, she just possessed her fair
share of common sense. You see, by this time Ranma had been going
totally apeshit for two weeks.
***********************************
"I've got a fix on him." Mi Soon snapped. "What the hell? He's in North
America... more to the point, he's in Miami."
Po Da groaned.
"Mad City. Oh, great... we'd better check there's still a damn city
there."
"Mad City?" Akane asked.
"Yes. Miami's been under the supposed control of House Darmaiad for the
last two hundred years... I take it you don't know their reputation?"
"Of course we bloody don't." Ryoga remarked. "We're still basically
clueless about this crap, remember?"
"Then I'd better fill you in. All Sidhe have a reputation as party
animals; this reputation is almost entirely the fault of House Darmaiad.
Miami went to Hell in a handbasket 150 or so years ago and the only bit
that's improved is the surface dressing. You can't even begin to imagine
the demand for alcohol, narcotics and prostitutes 365 Sidhe parties a
year creates. One Sidhe can go through a quarter of a ton of intoxicants
in a week, and they're almost as sex-crazed as succubi. I think you can
imagine what that does for law, order and sanity in Miami, especially
considering there's at least two hundred of the horny buggers in the
city."
"So why's that mean Ranma's gonna be in trouble?"
"Because House Darmaiad don't bother keeping the local demon hunters
under control. And your brother has a habit of being loud about his
nature. And since MJ-12 is a US - based outfit, American demon hunters
are somewhat more dangerous than the kind we get around here."
"So what the hell is MJ-12?"
"Nobody's completely certain, but it is believed they are an offshoot of
the US National Security Agency. The American government became aware of
the presence of we supernats sometime in the 1950's; they evidentially
decided we pose a threat to the USA. That's despite at least a tenth of
the US population being supernats. I suppose the fact we've known things
for centuries which they're only just starting to figure out must have
creeped them out, either that or they got us confused with Soviets or
some such crap. At any rate, the Yanks set up what they called Task
Force Rainbow to 'deal' with us. In other words, a half-arsed attempt to
beat the Guilds at their own game. After Clan Daarak trashed Rainbow a
few times the NSA took over. The result was Mirage. As far as we know,
Mirage evolved into MJ-12."
Akane stood up.
"Look, what the hell are we playing at? Ryoga, you know how to contact
that tramper Akira used to get us to and back from China, don't you? Mi
Soon, I need ten top-notch unarmed fighters who've got passports, I'm
flying out there tomorrow. Have your people take ship for Miami tonight
- with their guns."
Shampoo glared at her.
"Akane, we speak to Honda. Us get diplomatic flight, that way I take my
guns." She turned to Mi Soon. "I take Tiger, Mu Tze, Lin-Lin, Nabiki,
Lan-Lan, Shan Li and Fire. You no complain. This shit personal."
***********************************
Watching the ground drop away from under the C-10 transport, Shampoo
reflected that maybe this hadn't been such a good idea - she'd always
been shit-scared of heights, and air travel made her sicker than a
parrot. Bikes, tanks, ships, speedboats, light trucks, hot-rods - she
was perfectly happy with throwing herself around the scenery in them.
Aircraft - fuck that, it was too far down.
Akane sat to one side of her, still as a rock and staring sightlessly
into nothing. Mu Tze the far side of Akane, a lost expression on his
face. On her other side Tiger and Fire arguing loudly about which of
them scored more kills during the second battle, while beyond them
Lin-Lin casually cleaned her rifle. Nabiki advertising her remarkable
ability to go to sleep absolutely anywhere. Lan-Lan and Shan Li
screaming abuse at each other as per usual. The engines roaring like a
dozen duplicates of Nodoka's truck.
This was going to be a long flight.
***********************************
Bill Clinton silently watched the small assembly of people - one
blatantly blind girl in a black leather trenchcoat who was, despite her
lack of sight, openly carrying a Ruger .44 Magnum revolver, one
marginally taller girl with long purple hair, Chinese BDU's and a
Spesnatz AK47 slung over her shoulder who was wheeling a camouflaged
Honda CB500 motorbike, a relatively normal looking girl dressed in a
black leather motorbike jacket, padded denim jeans and a white croptop
who was wheeling another heavily modified Honda, this one wasp-striped,
a pair of identical twin girls with knee length green hair and a
mish-mash of Chinese and Russian BDU's, one of them carrying a Barret
Light 50 and the other carrying an RPK light machine gun, a giant of a
girl with shoulder length tigerskin-patterned hair, dressed in a black
leather catsuit and carrying a .50 M2HB Browning heavy machine gun that
had been fitted with a rather large pistol grip, stock and foregrip, a
blue-haired girl, this one tall, thin, her hair tied back in a loose
ponytail that reached her waist, dressed in Soviet battledress and
carrying a M16A3 complete with grenade launcher, yet another dyed-haired
girl in battledress, this one with almost ankle length pink hair,
Korean BDU's and a Remington pump shotgun and, finally, the only male of
the group - a slightly effeminate looking young man with lower back
length black hair, dressed in denim jeans, hiking boots, a white T-shirt
and a voluminous white robe much like an outsize trenchcoat; he was also
the only member of the group not visibly armed.
Bill turned to his aide.
"Clarke, what the hell are the Japanese playing at?"
"God only knows, Mr. President sir. But rest assured, the CIA is on the
case."
"Any clues where they're heading?"
"I really don't know. So far they've stuck in Miami, and you know what
the reputation of that particular city is like."
"Are you suggesting that they are Class G?"
"That's a foregone conclusion... the Japanese authorities recently
started recruiting Class G life-forms into the military."
"Shit. Have any of them been ID'ed?"
"No sir. Our own Team Indigo - the Black Eagles - are on it. We've got a
preliminary classification A on all of them - they appear to be from the
Joketsuzoku subsect, Clan Saotome."
Bill Clinton went very pale indeed.
***********************************
"So what the hell's going on here, sarge?"
The man being so questioned - Geoffrey Raven, a five nine Scotsman with
unruly grey hair and a nice line in black BDU's - snorted.
"The Japs sent in a bunch of heavily-armed Chinks six hours ago,
supposedly as embassy staff. The weird thing being said Chinks were
openly towing round a bunch of Red firepower and two of the weirdest
dirt bikes I've ever seen."
His questioner - a woman named Linna Yamazaki, slightly shorter than
him, Japanese in origin and 'blessed' with the pale skin and red eyes
that were the trademark of vampires everywhere - snorted.
"Let me guess. Joketsuzoku Amerai."
"Dead on Firedancer. Guess you heard about them Amazons rejoining Clan
Saotome, huh? I think the Saotomes are on the move."
"Sure I heard, I didn't spend all that time chatting up Red Hanovan for
nothing,"
"Then the following names will mean something to you. Xian Pu. Akane
Saotome. Nabiki Tendo."
"What, the two wives of their new Lord and his sister-in-law? What've
they got to do with this?"
"A lot. The girl with purple hair's Xian Pu, the girl in the
trenchcoat's Akane Saotome and the girl with the wasp-striped bike's
Nabiki Tendo."
"So we've got both the Lord Packmaster of Clan Saotome's wives and the
smartest daughter of the head of the Tendo line running round Mad City.
What the hell can they be looking for?"
"Hadn't you heard? Their Lord has been MIA for two weeks... I guess
they've got a handle on where the hell he is. Not many people know this,
but there was the biggest thaumatic surge known in 235 years two weeks
ago in Tokyo."
"Meaning?"
"From the fact it was wild magic, something went badly wrong. There must
be something they want for the cleanup there in Miami."
"I guess we'd better haul ass thataway." a third member of the group -
this one Brian 'Junkers' Mason, a tallish, waxy-skinned man with short
black hair, similar BDU's to Jeff's, a Heckler&Koch MSG-90 sniper rifle
and an unpleasant grin - remarked. He jerked his head in the general
direction of the nearest USAF base.
"Guess we can borrow a flight."
"You got it, Junkers. Stingray, T-Bone, get your gear together. We're
heading for Miami, and don't any of you cunts expect any time on the
damn beach."
***********************************
Every head in the bar turned towards Akane and Shampoo as the two Asian
girls walked in; they were certainly a sight to behold. Firstly there
was the casual, indifferent look in Akane's face and the fact Shampoo
was obviously acting guide-dog; Akane's left hand was resting lightly on
the Chinese woman's right shoulder. Then there was the fact both of them
were visibly armed, Shampoo with her trademark AK47 and Akane not only
with her brace of Super Redhawks, she also had an MP5K hanging from her
right shoulder. They were followed into the room by Nabiki, Tiger,
Lin-Lin, Lan-Lan, Shan Li, Fire and Mu Tze, all but the last of whom
were equally visibly armed.
The group settled themselves at a table near the bar and ordered drinks;
they were the only people who actually said anything the whole time.
Once stuck into her beer Akane swept one of her disturbing blind glares
round the table.
"Okay, how does everyone think we should start?"
Nabiki snorted. "I've already put adverts in every available motorbike
magazine and eight local newspapers, but I've got a gut feeling we
aren't going to find him that easily. According to some pals of his back
in Osaka, Ranma's remarkably good at making himself hard to find - and I
for one believe them."
Tiger grunted. "Then what we do is make ourselves easy to find. So, how
are we going to do that? I somehow suspect trying for the Miami remake
of Godzilla would not be a good idea, the US Army might get a little
upset."
"So," Shan Li asked, "What you're suggesting is we concentrate on making
as much noise as possible without being too blatant about it, right?"
"Precisely."
"Well then," Nabiki remarked. "It's not like there's silencers on me and
Shampoo's bikes. We could do a hell of a lot worse than burning round
town kicking up the sort of racket those bikes make."
Tiger groaned. "Nabiki, what kind of racket brings Ranma running every
time? That's right, close combat."
"Yeah well, I'm allergic to SWAT teams."
"You really think a police Special Weapons And Tactics team is capable
of slowing me down? Armoured vehicles might do it. Note might."
Shampoo snorted.
"That, Tiger, is not why I brought you. I'll have you remember me and
Akane are the ones running the team here."
"Hey," Nabiki commented. "Your English is way better than your
Japanese."
"My dad's Irish. Mom met him in Hong Kong... I've actually got dual
nationality."
"So, you ever been to Ireland?"
"Twice. Dad moved back there when I was six - I've been over to visit
him a couple of times. Nice place."
"Say, is your dad mundie?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
Tiger snorted. "Nah, he's Clan Skel. Nice guy even if he is barking
mad."
"Look who's talking."
"It's called combat fatigue, give me a little credit Shan Li."
***********************************
By this time the conversation had attracted attention. This attention
was being given them by a young woman. She was five eight tall, blonde,
all American, clanless Amerai and a demon hunter. Nabiki's comment about
being allergic to SWAT teams had made her metaphorically prick her ears
up. Tiger's remark about Clan Skel - a name she had come across before -
really got her interested.
Then there was the fact the group had mentioned Ranma. A name she was
all too familiar with.
She told her friends to stay put then started edging towards the
Amazons.
***********************************
"Say, Tiger - who was your father?"
Tiger laughed coldly. "I am the only daughter of Warrior Sage of the
Musk dynasty and Honoured Elder Po Da. Thus my hair."
"Your mother married a Musk warrior?"
Tiger nodded. "Correct. Mint and Lime... they are my brothers. Our
parents met by the falls below Jusenkyo. My father still lives, although
I have not seen him for some seventeen years - not since I made the
error of joining the Conservative faction. That is why Mother is such a
staunch Reformist - up until seventy years ago the Laws forbade an
Amazon from wedding a Musk. It is thanks to my mother that even before
the civil war this law was changed - her voice has been strong since
first she joined the Council."
Lin-Lin whistled. "I knew you were half Musk, but a member of one of the
High Families? I hadn't any idea!"
Tiger shrugged. "Mother has never seen reason to brag about it - she
married him for love, not for renown."
"Either that or being crazy runs in the family."
"Shut your hole before I give you a collection of extra ones, Shan Li.
I've got an itchy trigger finger."
Shampoo rolled her eyes. "Now now ladies, let's save our ammo for the
bad guys. Or do you have a plan for acquiring more .50 ammo before we
get home?"
"Yeah yeah boss. Your show, your ROE."
Akane calmly punched Tiger in the face. "Cut the bullshit, girls.
Infighting is the reason we're in this mess, remember? So let's not
start that crap again. Especially not in a foreign country, or do I have
to remind you about my sister's allergy to SWAT teams? We do not need
the local police screwing this search up any more than it's already
screwed up. I tell you to take light armament and what do you bring
along? A damn heavy machine gun."
"Akane, it's the lightest armament that'll do the job. We're not hunting
humans here. We're probably going to have to make us some mincemeat.
After all, wherever Ranma is trouble isn't far away."
"You think an M2HB is the lightest gun up to the job? What the hell have
you been smoking, girl? Sharing Kasumi's stash are we?" Akane tugged a
rather large revolver out of her trenchcoat and popped the cylinder.
The others stared at the three cartridges she pulled out and placed
beside the gun on the table.
"Those are .50 machine gun rounds or I'm the Easter bunny." Tiger
remarked.
"Exactly. I call this the Earthshaker... I based it on a Ruger
double-action mechanism, I scaled it up a bit and adapted it for a three
round cylinder since that's the biggest frame I can fit inside my
trenchcoat. I was working on a shorter version using .60 calibre
straight cases made by cropping .50 Browning rounds until a certain hand
grenade got in the way - it's difficult to use machine tools when you're
blind. So don't give me any crap about that machine gun being the
smallest gun that can pack the punch we require. This is - using present
firearms technology that is." She reloaded the giant handgun and handed
it grip-first to Tiger. "I assume you're strong enough to take the
kick?"
"Dunno, but we can find out. Hey, maybe I should find out on that blonde
slut who's trying to eavesdrop on us?"
"Easy Tiger." Shampoo growled. She levelled a predatory grin at said
blonde.
"Since our conversation is fascinating you so much you'd better come
over here and sit down; lurking against the corner of the bar like that
won't do your back any good. So come on over here." She slapped a vacant
chair. Tiger nodded and casually cocked the .50 revolver.
"Indeed. Take a seat if you know what's good for you, kid."
The bar went very quiet again. The blonde girl - now extremely worried -
walked over and sat in the seat Shampoo had indicated; Tiger didn't make
any bones about tracking her with the gun the whole way.
"So." Akane asked. "What's so fascinating?"
Shampoo snorted. "She started moving our way the moment Nabiki mentioned
Ranma. Tell me, kid. Does my husband's name ring a bell or something?
Let me guess, our favourite mad bikie's been breaking a few heads round
here."
The blonde nodded. "I've run across him... last night he blew up a
warehouse down by the docks, he killed eight cops."
Nabiki chuckled. "So the pigs made the mistake of fucking with Ranma.
Not the first time, and I somehow doubt it'll be the last time."
"Look," the blonde asked. "Who the hell are you people?"
"My name is Akane Saotome, heir and champion of the Tendo school of
Anything Goes, for all it's worth."
"Um... what the hell happened to your eyes?"
"Oh, an HE-Frag hand grenade went off in my face." Akane shrugged. "War
is a messy place. Anyway, who's asking?"
"I'm Buffy Summers."
***********************************
Zander was more than a little worried.
He was still making himself busy behind the bar, calmly serving drinks
to those few customers who weren't departing hence in a hurry due to the
squad of overarmed Asians, one of whom now had a massive three-shot
revolver placed against Buffy's chin. He recognised the cartridges the
blind girl had tipped out the gun from his time in the Forces; those
were .50 Browning machine gun rounds, easily capable of blowing even
Buffy's mega tough skull into so much shrapnel.
Like any resident of Mad City who had any sense he possessed a firearm;
a SPAS-12 automatic shotgun. Said shotgun was fully loaded and sitting
under the bar just in front of him. But the giant punk woman in a
catsuit was cheerily toting a heavy machine gun; he didn't exactly rate
even Buffy's chances against it.
At that point someone hissed "Don't look down!" and poked his leg;
recognising the voice as he and Buffy's mutual friend Willow he did as
instructed and avoided looking down.
"Tap your right foot if your shotgun's loaded." Willow hissed.
Zander tapped his right foot; how the permanently worried witch had
managed to sneak back there without anyone noticing - scratch that, she
knew a very effective invisibility spell.
"Zander - turn the stereo on. Put on that Rob Zombie album you've got,
that girl with green hair's wearing an Astro-Creep 2000 T-shirt."
Zander continued idly doing his job. Next time this lead him near the
bar's stereo he inserted the CD in question into the player and hit
play, glad his boss was a raging metalhead.
Over the lead-in track he just caught the metallic 'Slide-chunk' noise
as Willow cocked the shotgun, a grunt of approval as she recognised the
round this spat out the gun as a 12-guage slug then a crunch as the
round went back into the clip. This was followed by Willow quietly
whispering the words of one of her 'passive' combat spells.
"Black, blacker, blackest. Cold beyond cold, silent beyond silence..."
Zander slid his other gun - a .50 calibre IMI Desert Eagle - out of
under the till; he placed it on the shelf with the beerglasses.
At that exact moment trouble walked through the door in the form of an
old 'friend' of Buffy's; a slightly stocky part-Amerind bounty hunter by
the name of Irene Vincent.
"Oh, shit."
***********************************
"So, what do you know about where Ranma might be?"
"He's been hanging round the biker bars downtown on and off."
Akane snorted. "That's not good enough. Tiger, put a round through her
hand."
Tiger grinned ferally, pressed the Earthshaker's barrel into the back of
Buffy's right hand and pulled the trigger. The gun roared and bucked
violently; Tiger let out a low whistle.
"Kicks like a - What the hell?"
The whole group silently watched the bullet wound in Buffy's hand close
up.
Tiger snorted. "So, our friend is an Amerai. Tell me, little girl. What
is your Clan?"
She paused at the blank look in Buffy's eyes.
"An amer-what?"
"Amerai. Shapeshifter. You know, werewolf."
Fire shook her head and loosened her katana in it's sheath. Akane
frowned.
"What just happened?"
"She regenerated, that's what. Too fast for a dopp, too slow for a
Stygian or an Asgardian. Lin-Lin - scent."
Lin-Lin dabbed up some blood from the shattered tabletop and sniffed at
it.
"Werejag. I think she's clanless."
Tiger let out a low whistle and shook her head. "A werejag? You don't
see many of them around, do you?"
"Nah. Well, not since the Baldwin line got wiped out back in the
Seventies." Lin-Lin casually pulled her handgun - a Walther PPK - out of
her pocket and shot Buffy in the guts. "There we go, that's a certain
person's shapeshifting offline. She's all yours, Tiger - you always were
a better torturer than me."
Shampoo rolled her eyes.
"Cool off everyone, that bullshit is more like Akira's game. So, blondie
- do you know what an Amazon is?"
"You mean the Joketsuzoku, right?"
"Well done. And do you know what a Saotome is?"
"Clan Saotome, the biggest shapeshifter clan on the planet?"
"Give the girl a biscuit. Yeah, that's us. We are Reformist Joketsuzoku.
I am the first wife of Lord Ranma Saotome, ruling Lord of Clan Saotome.
My husband is presently in this city... you know how they say the most
dangerous place in the world is between a mother and her children? It
isn't. The most dangerous place in the known universe is between an
Amazon and her husband, and that's right where you and this shithole
city are."
Tiger let out a low, menacing chuckle.
"Boss, we have inbound." She uncoiled from her seat, stretching to her
full (and impressive) height of six foot seven.
"Good evening madam. If I am not mistaken I am in the presence of a
fellow member of Clan Saotome. Care to join us?"
Buffy looked round; her eyes immediately lightened on Irene Vincent. The
person Tiger was talking to.
"Oh, shit."
Irene narrowed her eyes. "So who the hell are you?"
"Tiger. Tiger Stau-Gamani, eldest child of Lord Sage of the Musk and
Honoured Elder Po Da of Joketsuzo. I am a loyal warrior of Clan Saotome
- are you?"
Irene chuckled. "Well I'll be damned. So the Reformist Joketsuzoku
finally won out... what did it take? I heard Lord Akira is dead."
"Very true. Are you loyal?"
Irene laughed again and hauled her leather jacket off, tossing it onto
the back of a nearby chair and revealing that firstly she was wearing a
boob-tube underneath it and secondly the right half of her upper torso
was almost completely covered with a huge tattoo of a stylised weeping
eye.
"Work it out, sister... the name's Irene Vincent, though y'all can call
me Rally."
A slow smile spread across Tiger's face.
"Join us. We are here to find Lord Ranma Saotome, he was transported
here by an awry casting. Any news?"
"Ranma Saotome? About six foot zilch tall, long scruffy black ponytail,
unshaven, maniac grin, totally fucked up motorbike leathers?"
Akane nodded sharply.
"That's him."
"Damn straight I've seen him - it's hard to be anyone in this dump
without having run across him at one stage or another in the last two
weeks. Our Lord has been kickin' up one helluva fuss hereabouts. Say,
that blonde who I think she is?"
Tiger shrugged.
"Depends who you think she is. She told us her name is Buffy Summers."
Rally settled herself across the table from Buffy and shot a look that
could melt through battleship armour at the blonde girl.
"You are dead."
Tiger chuckled again. "So, what's blondie when she's at home?"
"Only the worst fucking Guilder in town. Seventy-six, that's how many of
our people she's taken out of the running in the last six months. And I
know all the other players have lost people to this bitch."
At that exact moment a 12-bore slug caught Tiger in the back of the
head. The varied Saotome clanners spun round, ready to return fire,
Tiger included; she rocked slightly when the massive bullet hit her,
blinked and swung her HMG to bear. Just as they were about to let the
bar have it Akane grabbed Tiger's arm.
"Hold your fire fuckwit! Bare hands only, get it?"
Tiger grunted, ditched the gun and vaulted over the bar; there was a
massive string of crashing and banging, another shotgun report, a
closely-spaced pair of meaty thuds then she stood back up, an
unconscious body draped over each arm.
"So, Summers - this pair yours?"
Rally snorted. "Yup. Her human groupie and her pet witch."
"Oh for... I told those two idiots to stay put!"
The red-haired girl vanished with a soft 'phut'. Tiger groaned.
"Contingency spell. Great."
"Watch your six, people." Rally warned. "She's got a Loup-Garou, a
'houndbrid and another mundie lurking around somewhere."
"Let's get the hell out." Akane suggested. "Take these two idiots to the
van. Shampoo, Nabiki, take your bikes, split up and meet us at the
safehouse in fifteen minutes. Rally, have you got wheels?"
"Sure thing sister."
"Follow us."
Tiger turned to Buffy.
"Goodnight."
Her fist went into Buffy's jaw.
***********************************
The person none of them had even noticed was a black-haired vampiress by
the name of Linna Yamazaki; she noted Willow abruptly vanishing, waited
for the gang to leave then left herself through the back door.
And another one bites the dust.
NOTES
Next - The worst timing in known history.
...
...
BWAHAHAHAHA! Look, I've mutated Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Gunsmith
Cats too! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
NB - No offence is meant to any resident of the real-world Miami.
Laters,
Calum 'Doghead' Wallace.
GLOSSARY OF TERMS
Alternator - Higher tech version of a generator.
Artic - The UK term for a semi truck. Short for 'articulated lorry'.
Astro-Creep 2000 - The title of a White Zombie album.
Binned - crashed. Normally means written off. Derived from 'bin' as in
'rubbish bin' (the British term for a trash can)
Chain lube - Motorbike chain lubrication oil. Comes in a spray can and
looks a bit like snot.
Conrod (connecting rod) - The bit of metal that connects the piston to
the crankshaft. Shaped approximately like a flat dumbbell.
Engine clicking - An internal combustion engine heats up when run. Run
it hard and it heats up more, then when you switch off the engine will
start emitting a series of sharp clicks as the metal cools and
contracts.
Final drive - the drive chain that goes from the gearbox to the back
wheel and the cogs (final drive sprockets) that it runs on. Not to be
confused with the primary drive - the chain/sprocket or belt/pulleys
between the engine and gearbox.
Gasflowing - trimming off excess metal from inside the cylinder heads to
aid the burn rate of fuel within the engine. Gives a small horsepower
boost.
Gixer - Slang for a Suzuki GSXR (one of the craziest bikes they make).
Header tank - Tank that contains the spare water for the radiator on a
sealed cooling system as found in most cars and some high performance
bikes.
Honda CG125 - Small single - cylinder 4-stroke road bike. Not very much
of anything but supremely reliable and dirt cheap. It's reliability
stems from having very little to go wrong and a low - revving 4-stroke
engine.
Honda 250 Superdream - CB250. The next up the Honda model range from the
CG125 and just a bigger version of the same.
Honda 500 Superdream - CB500. A CB250 with a bigger bore and heavier
frame.
Honda Fireblade - Insane Honda sportsbike. Mad but beginning to show
it's age.
Kill switch - The engine's 'off' switch. Turns off power to the
ignition.
Kuso - As far as I know this is the Japanese translation of the word
'Shit'.
Lid / skidlid - Slang for a crash helmet.
Nitrous oxide - Laughing gas. A petrol - nitrous mix burns faster than a
petrol - air mix therefore produces more horsepower and more wear in the
engine.
Ratbike - A motorbike made to look as fucked up and unroadworthy as
possible while still being street legal. Normally painted flat black.
Steering damper - a long, thin shock absorber that fits between the
forks and the frame. Helps steady the steering. A steering damper is
essential for disabled bikers who have lost the use of one arm as
without it there's no way you'd be able to steer at low speed or pull
away one armed.
Stocker - unmodified factory-built vehicle; I think this comes from the
term 'sales stock'.
Supercharger - A pump driven off the crank that forces more air into the
engine thus forcing it to run faster.
Toby - An Inverness Collegeism; slang meaning something along the lines
of widget, gizmo or thingy. Derived from angling parlance (toby = a
small wooden fish used as a lure.) May be related to the epithet 'Toby
Tishbein' and can be said 'Tobyracho' for no apparent reason. (I'm not
making this up! Honest!)
Top yoke - The yokes are two pieces of metal that hold the front forks
together and to the bike. The top yoke is the upper one. Known as
triple clamps in the US.
JASDF - Japanese Air Self Defence Force. The Japanese air force.
JGSDF - Japanese Ground Self Defence Force. The ground forces arm of the
Japanese military.
JSDF - Japanese Self Defence Force. The collective Japanese armed
forces.
What likes - Slack Scottish grammar. Means something along the lines of
'please could you explain that'. Only considerably less posh.
Wheelie bin - a square green plastic trashcan about the size of a normal
bin, with a flip top and two wheels.