FAQing Hostile:
              Subcultural Mutant Otaku Versus the Mundanes
                              Chapter 4
          Written by Mark "Insert-cool-sounding-name-here" Poa

            (FAQing Hostile originally spawned by Twoflower)


	
	"SHERMAN!  We need you here yesterday!"  

	Vixen stopped shouting into her commlink for a minute to put new eyeholes 
into two lumbering Ears (not that the Ears were grateful or anything).  The 
group is surrounded on all sides but managed to hide inside an old souvenir 
store and taken cover.  It's been 15 minutes since Plan "Let's blow up EPCOT and 
all the freaking Ears with it" was scrapped in favor of saving Dave.  Things 
were not looking good.

	She looked back to check her companions.  B1ff was applying first aid to 
Dave's wound.  At least she thinks he's trying to.  It is kinda hard to call 
something, which involves wrapping some mold in a torn piece of muddy cloth and 
placing it over a 1-inch diameter bullethole, "first aid".  

	"B1ff, are you sure you know what you're doing?"  the fuku-wearing soldier 
asked.

	"4bs0lut3ly, 1 s4w th3 guy5 4t th3 h0sp1tal 0f Dr. T0fu d0 thi5.  4nyw4y, 
s1s, why h3lp h1m? U s4id 1t Urs3lf, h3's 3xp3ndabl3."  B1ff said as he tried to 
tie up the cloth with one hand while clutching the c4 on his other hand.

	"Just shut up and keep working!  We're not out of Disneyland yet.  What in 
the name of Kami could be keeping Sherman?  And why isn't he responding?" She 
checked her commlink again.  "Sherman! Get here NOW!

	"Pika. Pika pi.  Chu."  Phreakachu cursed while taking a quick swig from 
his emergency whisky bottle.  His Thundershock attacks were not affecting this 
new batch of Combat-Ears.  Their rubber costumes were not much to look at but 
they do insulate the wearer from Phreakachu's thundershocks. 

	"No, I don't think so. Maybe it's . . ." 

	"Duck!"

	"Wha. . .?" Vixen froze for 0.00005 second then ducked as a slug whizzed 
past her left earlobe.  Simultaneously, she squeezed her gun and another Ear 
bites the dust.  She looked over at the person who warned her. "Thanks"

	"... whatever."  Rachael shrugged before returning to making Swiss Cheese 
out of the approaching Ears.  (Even if she doesn't care to admit it, it doesn't 
mean she wants to be fried by crazed rodent-worshipping goons.)

	"..." Vixen almost had the urge to sweatdrop.  She looked at her ragtag 
group and, for the first time within the last few hours, managed to smile.  
Well, a smile that lasts even 0.0003 seconds can still be called a smile, 
nonetheless.  

	The Ears were retreating.  They're starting to lay off.  Good, she 
thought, they deserved a break.  Kami, she's tired.  It never occurred to her 
before this.  Too much has happened for her in just the past few days.  What 
started out as a recon mission to get more food and supplies from the Pop Rocks 
Militia turned into the reason she and her group are the last otaku on earth 
(plus one fanatic nihilist).  Her home was destroyed, she's stuck babysitting a 
newbie and a Goth girl, she wrecked her chances of bombing Ears headquarters 
just cause she saw that baka Dave get shot for charging in so baka-like, she....

	Wait a minute.  Vixen returned back to that last thought.  Why the hell 
did she react that way?  She looked over to where Dave was still lying on the 
ground, breathing slowly. The blood on his shirt had already .  

	Why did she suddenly abandon the mission after seeing that hyperactive kid 
get shot? He's just some kid, right?  She turned and looked at Rachael. And why 
did she keep that Goth girl around as if she cared a flying shit about her tribe 
being killed?  Why did she felt the urge to smile just a few sentences ago? 
Could it be that she . . .  

	"Pika.  Pi kachu-chu pikachu.  Pika pi."

	"S1s, Phr3ak4chu  s3z w3 g0t tr0ubl3.  Th3m E4rs 4re r3l3as1ng th3 
mut4te5!"

	"What? Oh shi-" Vixen looked over their makeshift blockade and felt a 
chill run down her spine.

	Approaching them are things that are very hard to describe. To put it 
metaphorically, they are a vision of chaos and anarchy put together in cement 
mixer, shaken not stirred, bombarded with cosmic rays, and put to dry in the 
sun.  Hideous creatures that make a mockery of evolution stumbled forward 
slowly, dripping ooze, saliva, and other body fluids along the way.  

	Years ago when the Disney people were starting their Mickey Mouse Club, 
they stumbled across the vast archives of cartoons left behind in the vast theme 
park.  Their common sense overridden by cartoon worship and utilizing the 
technology available through hidden caches buried underneath EPCOT, they 
attempted to transform their children into the very images of their fave 
characters.  Suffice it to say, the kiddies don't like their daddies and mommies 
much after that, though they lack the reasoning skills to direct their 
anger on their creators in revenge.  The pioneers discontinued research but 
allowed the remaining "mutates" to breed, utilizing them as soldiers and 
occasionally as sideshows in their annual Halloween specials.  

	Rachael started to cringe looking at the slimy,icky, oozy, creepy, . . . 
not really huggable creatures moving slowly towards them.  She screamed and 
started emptying Dave's pistol at the creatures.  The click-clack of the gun 
saying "no more bullets" was heard yet the mutates were not even fazed, although 
one that looked like a giant cricket with large ears lost two legs.  

	"Stop it!  You're only wasting the ammo!" Vixen shouted.  She turned on 
her commlink again. "Sherman!  Where are you now?!?"  

	"I am approaching as fast as mechanically possible in >bzzzt<is terrain.  
Also experien>bzzzt< communication difficulties.  Please be forewarned.  I 
detect s>bzzzt<ral unidentified hostile elements in your area. O>bzzzt<r." 

	"We know that already!  Just get here ASAP!"  Vixen shouted off.

	"S1s, l3t m3 us3 th3 c4 on '3m.  1'll w4st3 th3m suck3rz!" 

	"What the F#&% are you still doing with that?  I told you to set it back 
there, didn't I?!!!"

	"W3ll, U als0 5cr3am3d f0r s0me0ne t0 c4rry D4ve b0y ov3r th3r3!  1 c4n't 
do tw0 th1ng5 4t 0nce, U kn0w!!!"

	"Ummm, guys?  I-I don't care o-or anything but I think w-we shouldn't 
argue now while those slimy things are approaching.  I-I really don't care about 
the past but I don't want to face them again."

	"I guess those were the ones the Ears used to eliminate your pals, huh? 
Just great! We might end up joining them if things don't improve soon." Vixen 
holstered her guns. "We're down to our last two clips of bullets.  Okay, I guess 
we can use that C4 of yours, bro."

	"C00l!  1'll g3t '3m f0r U, b4b3."  B1ff winked at the still visibly-
shaken Rachael before running out of the store and throwing a stick of C4 into 
the slow moving crowd.  "T4ke th1s!"  he shouted before scrambling for cover.  
The others ducked and covered their ears.

	BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!
	
	Vixen peered out and tried to see through smoke. A few dozen or so 
misplaced body parts were scattered on the ground.  Some were still twitching 
and a decapitated head appears to be laughing.  However, what frightened her 
more was the sight of around thirty more mutates still alive and kicking 
(literally).  She felt the primal urge to scream at the futility of it all.

	B1ff readied another stick of dynamite when . . .

	"IGGEEE!" The metallic copy of a pre-recorded voice from a Japanese game 
show signaled the unmistakable cannon attack of Sherman.  Already, three 
mutates were turned into pig slop.  As Vixen looked behind her, she saw that 
Sherman had broken through the back wall of the souvenir store with his massive 
cannon and frame demolishing the entire wall displays of stuffed donkeys and 
Air-Hercs.  
	
	"I have arrived, Ms. Hiroshima.  Everyone please hurry.  Other hostile 
elements are approaching this area."

	"Everyone!  Inside Sherman now!  And B1ff," she shouted at her approaching 
sibling. "Throw that thing before it explodes in your hand!"

	"0h y3ah, r1ght!"  B1ff threw the C4 at the remaining mutates and ran.
	
	BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!

	The group ran for the safety of Sherman's insides with B1ff carrying the 
unconscious Dave.  All the while, Sherman's cannon blasts kept the hellish 
creatures outside at bay.

	"Sherman, top speed out of here.  NOW!!!"

	"4ren't w3 a l1ttl3 cr4mp3d h3r3?  N0t th4t 1'm c0mpla1n1ng w1th the b4be 
h3r3 4nd 4ll."  B1ff said while getting a quick feel of Rachael's butt in the 
cramped space of Sherman's control center.  Rachael didn't react but she still 
looked disturbed, or maybe she just didn't care for B1ff's actions.

	"We are moving as fast as my tracks are capable.  Sensors indicate new 
lifeform inside tank.  Please be advised."

	"New lifeform? Oh, it's just Rachael.  She's okay.  Move us out of here!"

	"Please state our destination."

	"Get to the nearest ally or neut ground you can get to!  We need supplies, 
ammo and medicine for Dave."

	"Processing."  The sentient computer hummed a bit (to the tune of Lai Lai 
China Boy) while its scans surveyed the surrounding area.  "Finished. Nearest 
ally territory is RolePlayers Haven, occupied by the LARP and Players.  ETA is 1 
hour 55 minutes 32 seconds at present speed."
	
	"Make it in 10 minutes. He's dying here." Vixen said while inside her 
head, she's trying to think of why she gives too much of a damn about this 
newbie.

	"Unable to comply.  However, if Dave's condition is our first priority, I 
have sent out a distress beacon for any non-hostile humanoids in the area."

	"A beacon?!?  Wouldn't that alert the Ears, too?"

	"Negative.  It is in a frequency used by Otakuland and her allies only."

	"W3ll, 1 gu3ss 4ll w3 c4n d0 1s wa1t, s1s."

	"We are approaching entry gates.  Sensors indicate another problem."

	"B1ff, check it out!"

	"Ok4y, s1s!"  B1ff opened one of Sherman's side hatches and peered out.  
"L00k's l1k3 th3y a1n't g0nna l3t u5 g0 s0 3asy.  Wa1t a m1nut3.  Holy m0th3r 0f 
DVD!!11!! There's a B1g Ch33s3 in their midst!!1!!"

	"Great!  Just f#&%ing great!!!"

	Framed by the entry gates where once children and adults alike fork in 
their cash for a day of magic and souvenir stands, two dozen first class Combat-
Ears stood.  In the middle of the line was a person who was obviously a general 
among the Mickey Mouse Club.  He wore one the revered symbols of their tribe: a 
genuine Mickey(/Minnie?) Mouse head that used to be worn by entertainers 
populating the theme park.  (True, it lacks a nose and half an ear, but it's 
still a badge of honor for the Ears.)

	"Do we slow down now?"  Rachael asked while keeping Dave's unconscious 
form steady.  "Not that I care or anything."  She appears to have regained her 
nerves.

	"Fat chance at that!  Sherman, fire at them!"

	"Affirmative."

	Two shots later, the Ears were scrambling to protect their collective 
butts.  However, the Big Cheese stood firm.

	"You *unprintable* pieces of heretical-animation loving trash!" he shouted   
in a squeaky voice. "You and your kind will never contaminate the pure spirits 
of Disney animation!  Your works will never be true mainstream! And don't forget 
that Disney owned Miyazaki's ass!  Die by the gloves of the Mouse! 
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!"

	That second to the last remark caused a general uproar among the remaining 
conscious otaku.  Vixen ordered Sherman full speed ahead.

	The Disney general fired round after round at the approaching tank, all 
the while laughing maniacally and babbling.  His brain didn't seem to register 
that there is a 5-ton tank moving steadily towards him.  At least not until 
Sherman was grinding his legs under his treads.

	"HAHAHAHAH-AAAAUUUGGGHHHHHH!!!!!"

	"Gr3at! Th4t's alw4ys a pa1n to r3mov3 fr0m th3 tr3ads."

-----------

Somewhere else. . . 

	In a place that once housed the world's largest producer of computer 
software and secret deals, a group watches a monitor on the wall.  A tank was 
pictured moving away from Disneyland.  The monitor blinks off. Candles are lit.  
In the dim light, five silhouettes can be seen seated around an oval table.  A 
box-like machine was positioned on the head of the table.

	"All goes well.  They appear to know nothing."

	"Are we sure that these cretins would not be able to deduce our moves?  Is 
it wise to let them roam free? It is in our capability to finish them off."

	"These remaining `otaku' are not worth the effort.  Our resources are best 
employed on other matters."

	"And of NeoK1bo?"

	"Their ranks are in turmoil because of the latest virus attack we 
unleashed."  He held up a hand to silence the coming argument from his 
colleague. "Don't worry, the virus is only temporary and cannot damage our own 
hardware."

	"What about the Trekkies?  Surely they are aware that something is 
brewing."

	"They know only what we let them know.  I already have a mole inside 
their tribe.  Their Starfleet command makes no actions I will not know."

	"What about our other enemies?"

	"What of them?  Let them fight among themselves. Otakuland, with their 
Geo-whatever satellite defenses, was the only hindrance to Phase I of our Lord's 
plan."

	A strange digital voice spoke up.  "SILENCE! YOU HAVE SPOKEN ENOUGH!  MY 
CIRCUITS TIRE.  WE SHALL MEET AGAIN IN THE MORNING.  LOG OFF NOW." 

	"Aye, Excellency, Lord of the Chips, Master of the Wares!" the five 
chorused.  The candles were blown out.  Sounds of feet shuffling out of the room 
was heard.  
	
	"Oops!"  CRASH! "Ouchie!"

	"What happened?"
	
	"I tripped on these stupid robes for the third time this week!  Can't we 
wear casual next time?  Anyone got a Band-Aid?"  

--------

Somewhere that is definitely not Kansas . . .

	Dave is looking around.  Dave is puzzled.  Dave is thinking one thing.
	
	"Where the heck, am I?"

	He looked around.  He appears to be in a room.  Five doors are around him 
labeled with the numbers 1 to 5 each.  

	"This is weird." He looked at the doors, approached one and knocked.  It's 
solid all right.   "This is really weird.  Hmmm.  It's like one of those visions 
from those old anime movies.  Maybe this is a spiritual quest or something."

	He reached out to touch the knob of Door #3, then stopped.  "Of course, 
the only ones with visions like this are often those who will be killed or see 
their friends get killed in the near future. . . Aw, what the hey."

	He opened Door #3.  A blinding flash of light appeared briefly then 
disappeared. Dave blinked ten times to get rid of the spots caused by the brief 
flash.  He was now in a different yet strangely familiar place.

	"Wait a minute.  This is the Pop Rocks." There were the trailers, the 
barbed wire fence, the Howitzer cannon, even the colored cellophane paper on the 
spotlights.  Dave felt the urge to scream.  He would have done it, too, if 
someone didn't beat him to it.

	"DAAAD!  Don't leave!"

	He looked behind him.  That was his trailer.  His old home.  His voice?

	He climbed up the trash can near the open window and peered in.  He was 
surprised to see himself, six years old and dressed in an "I crave the 
Backstreets" tank top.  Behind him was his mother holding his crying sister.  On 
the bed was his father.

	"Dad.  Don't go.  PLEASE!  I wanna show you my new moves.  I learned them 
just this morning.  Teacher said I dance as good as Ricky Martin. Please don't 
leave us."

	"Ricky Martin."  His father's eyes closed and his lips formed a smile. 
"Ahh, I wish I could stay to see it, son.  But my legs are useless now.  I can't 
dance.  I can't tap my feet to the tune of Livin' La Vida Loca.  I can't even 
stand up. I'm useless now without my moves.  That's why Daddy has to go, son."

	"But I don't wanna see you go, Dad."

	"Hush, Dave.  It cannot be helped.  It is our way." His mother's soft 
voice provided no comfort.

	"But I don't want Dad to go away."

	"Stop it, son. Remember always the words of the great Boyzone 'Smile, an 
everlasting smile...'  Take care of your mom for me.  It won't be long now."

	Dave felt his eyes start to get misty.  He hadn't thought about this event 
for years.  He didn't want to think about or see what was going to happen next 
because he already knew.  

	He walked away from the trailer, wiping the tears from his eyes.  He heard 
the door of the trailer open.  He heard the Honor Boys grab his father and drag 
him out amid the sobs and pleas of two children.  

	He didn't know why then, why the Militia got rid of anyone who couldn't do 
the Macarena.  Nor did he care then or now.  All he knew was that they took his 
dad from him.  Took him away from him.

	Dave didn't want to stay behind to experience this again.  He started 
running, tears still clouding his vision.  He wanted to forget this, bury it in 
his memories and cement it inside, just to keep from hurting again.  

	As he ran, he saw another flash of light.

---------

	"I5 1t ju5t m3 or d0es th3 k1d l00k l1ke h3's cry1ng?"

	"Must be your imagination.  He hasn't moved since we left Ear territory.  
Sherman, how long until we reach a safe haven?"

	"RPG Haven is still 48 minutes 39 seconds away.  However, it appears as if 
someone is answering our distress call.  Amazing as it sounds, it is in the 
Otakuland Strike Forces wavelength."

	"What did you say?"  Vixen looked at the digital display.  "Could it be?  
Are there other otaku still alive? Sherman, how far is it?"

	"I'm sending our position now.  It appears to be a hovercarrier 
approximately 1 kilometer from here. It is really an Otakuland vessel."

	"Sh3rm4n's n0t b1tch1n', s1s.  Ch3ck 0ut th3 s1gnal!" B1ff p01n, er, 
pointed at the monitor showing the signal from the unseen vessel.  The spikes 
and shapes of the lines in the monitor formed the kanji for "Ohayo."

	"It's true!  It's really f#&%ing true!" Vixen almost jumped for joy.  She 
giggled like a schoolgirl on vacation.  

	"Ummm, s1s?  4re U 4ll r1ght?  Y0u'r3 act1ng fr3aky.  It'5 st4rt1ng t0 
sc4r3 me."  B1ff said while holding back a sweatdrop.

	Vixen stopped giggling.  What in Kami's name is going over her?  She 
looked at B1ff who looked like he's going to burst into laughter any minute.  
She beat him to it by putting on her Cold Aura(tm). B1ff tensed up.

	"Nothing.  You saw NOTHING!  You will remember NOTHING!" She screamed into 
B1ff's face while shaking him senseless.  After B1ff passed out on the floor 
from all the rattling of his brain cage, she returned back to her post.

	Other survivors of the Otakuland massacre?  Can it be true?

--------

	Dave blinked again to clear his vision.  He was still in the Pop Militia 
camp, though it felt different.  

	He was at the back fence standing around.  A boy was playing with the 
rocks at one corner.  

	Dave approached the boy and froze.

	It was him!  He remembered this, too.  He was nine years old.  This was 
when . . .

	"Psst!  Hey, kid!  Over here!"

	Dave watched as the boy walked over to where a man in a dark trenchcoat 
was leaning on the fence.  He remembered that face.  That trenchcoat.  That pink
eyepatch.  That X-shaped scar on the man's cheek. 

	"Yes, mister?"

	"Good, kid.  It looks like your parents never warned you against 
strangers."  The man reached out an open hand through a small hole on the fence.
"Help a poor man out, kid.  I'm a traveler, you see.  A travelling merchant.  
And boy, am I starved!  Think you can spare some rations for a poor guy?"

	"But . . . I don't know."  The boy started to walk backwards away from the 
strange man.  "I don't have much to just give out. . ."

	"Kid, you drive a hard bargain.  How about I trade you some DVDs in 
exchange for your food?  You do have DVD in this trash dump of a camp, don't 
you?"  
	
	The boy nodded but did not step forward.  "Okay, I know how deprived you 
guys are here with nothing but boybands and Music videos to watch. I think 
you'll like this."

	The man pulled out two square DVD boxes from his coat. "Special for today: 
Ranma 1/2.  It's something you will not regret having or watching."
	
	The boy seem hesitant.  The man reached back inside his coat again.  

	"Okay, kid.  For six rations, I'll even throw in this music CD.  I don't 
think you heard it yet.  It's not one your elders are fond of playing.  So what 
do you say, kid?"

	Dave remembered the boy's curiosity.  He remembered the man's sincere 
smile, more than what he saw from the people in the tribe.  He remembered not 
knowing what Ranma was, but wanting something more than 98 Degrees in his life.  
He remembered it all.

	Five minutes after, six rations of Chicken McNuggets passed through the 
hole in the fence.  The DVDs were passed back.  So his fate as a future otaku 
was sealed.  Dave looked at the boy clutching his new treasures and suddenly, he 
was blinded again by another flash of light.

	"I'm beginning to see a trend here." 

-------

	Sherman met up with the hovercarrier. When Vixen and B1ff saw it, there 
was no doubt now of its origin.  The hovercarrier's hull was painted with blue 
flames.  Dragonballs were painted around the cushion of the hovercraft.   The 
words "RUROUNI, not-nearly Macross-class carrier" marked the area near the 
front.  

	"S0, wh4t d0 w3 d0 n0w, s1s?  D0 w3 mak3 pl4ns f0r an0th3r 5tr1ke 4t th3 
3ars?"

	"Are you kidding?  We're down to only five clips of bullets and one stick 
of dynamite.  Establish contact with the Rurouni's crew and ask for any data, 
supplies, . . . and see if they a medical person on board for Dave."

	"G0tch4!"

	Vixen left B1ff at the controls and stepped to the back where Rachael, 
Phreakachu and the still unconscious Dave stayed during the trip.

	Rachael was changing Dave's bandages.  They laid him down where they used 
to keep Sherman's supply of tank shells (now reduced to 5 shells from the last 
attack) Dave looked okay but was still unconscious.  The blood had stopped 
flowing.  Whatever B1ff did, it was effective.  However, Dave seems to be coming 
down with a fever and the slug inside his body had not been removed yet.  

	"How's he doing?" Vixen sat down.  Her tired feeling was returning again 
after all the excitement of finding the other otaku craft. 

	"I really didn't notice."  Rachael shrugged. 

	Vixen yawned.  When did she last slept?  Two days ago?  She knew that her 
training in the Otakuland military conditioned her to be able to keep awake for 
more than two days on an hour of sleep.  Yet she felt really tired now.  

	"You look tired." Rachael said, then quickly added when she saw Vixen 
staring at her quizzically, "Not that I care of course."

	Vixen shook her head.  Then she looked at Phreakachu already high inside 
his own personal closet from an impromptu pot session. She wonders if she should 
take out her `transformation . . .

	"Want a full body massage?"  The question shocked her to attention.  She 
looked at Rachael and saw something in her eyes. Desire?  A fire certainly, 
but...
	
	"Mind if I ask a question?" Rachael asked when she didn't answer.  Vixen 
tensed a bit.  Oh my Goddess, could the girl be . . . Wait.  Maybe it's 
something else. Vixen noticed that Rachael was blushing a bit.  

"Do you think I'm attractive?  I mean, physically?"

	Vixen blink-blinked twice at Rachael's forwardness. It must be it!  She 
wasn't afraid of most things but the question unnerved her. She never thought 
about such things before and didn't know how to react.  
	
She decided that the best course of action to take in this situation was 
to give in to her body's desires . . . to faint.

--------

	Hmmm. Wonder why she fainted like that?  Must be really exhausted.

	Rachael looked at the unconscious form of Vixen.  Then she looked at the 
sleeping Dave. Dave.  She smiled a bit, giggled, then felt herself blushing 
again.

	...whatever.  She thought to herself.  Then smiled and returned to 
changing the bandages.

--------

Somewhere far from the motley crew. . . 

	"Captain, we received this data from one of our scouts."  He handed in a 
folder filled with papers.  The graphs written there would take Einstein ten 
years 
to decipher and two minutes to shred.

	"What's it say?" said the yet-unnamed captain, handing the folder back.  
"C'mon, you know that a captain has science officers like you so that they don't 
have to understand every freaking stuff that the computer spews out!"

	"My apologies, it appears from these readings that one of our neighboring 
planets, designated `Otakuland' was completely decimated by their own satellite
defenses," the also-unnamed science officer said, reading off a Cliff's Notes 
printout 
that was included in the report.  "It appears as if an unknown entity managed to 
seize 
control over the planet's defenses.  It appears to bear investigating."  

	"Hmmm.  They could have some rations within the rubble.  Are there any 
survivors?"

	"It appears as if there is one sighting of a group of survivors leaving 
the planet designated 'Disneyland', but reports are as of now unconfirmed."

	"Guess we need to talk to them, too.  find out who they're fighting."  He 
adjusted 
his seat.  "I'll radio Starfleet command.  Ensign Jake, set a course for 
`Otakuland' at 
Mach 5."

	"Yes captain."  The `ensign' changed the ATV's gear to a faster setting.

	"Engage."  And the Trekkies are on the move towards the site formerly 
known as Otakuland.

	One thing remained to be said. . . 

	"Plock, your ears look a bit crooked."

	"Thank you for pointing that out, captain." The science officer said while 
fixing his ears. "I tried using some new type of scotch tape this morning.  
Doesn't seem to be effective."

	"I know.  Hell to be a science officer. Maybe you can try gluing them on?"

-----------

Back to our band of merry me, er, otaku. . .

	B1ff managed to establish radio with the Rurouni hovercarrier.  A blurred, 
hard to distinguish form was silhouetted in the video. 

	"Sorry `bout this, but our comm systems are a bit whacked out the past 
week."
	
	"Th4t's 0k.  4re y0u r3ally 0takul4nd 5urv1v0rs, t00?"

	A pause on the other line.  Then...

	"This is B1ff Hiroshima, isn't it?"

	"H0ly . . . D0 1 kn0w y0u?"

	A snicker.  "I knew it.  No other otaku had their brains wrapped too much 
by hentai video games that they started talking like you do.  Should have 
recognized Sherman from here.  You okay, Sherman?  How's this lout treating 
you?"

	"I am still online and processing, sir. May I hazard a guess as to your 
identity?  Kenishi-san, am I correct?"

	"Hey, you got it right!  What gave me away?  My sultry voice?  My dashing 
pixellated looks on the video display?"

	"Negative. Your voice patterns were already in my files."

	"K3nish1-s4n?!?  B0y, s1s 1s g0nn4 fl1p!  It'5 b33n wh4t, 8 y3ars?  Wh4t 
w3r3 y0u up t0?"

	"Been traveling for the past years.  Spreading the otaku way of life."  A 
pause.  His tone became serious. "You seen Otakuland, haven't you?"

	"Y3ah!  Th0se l0usy b4st4rds!  W3 4lm0st h4d th3m, t00!  But w3 m4n4g3d to 
s4lv4ge th3 H0ly fuku 4nd a c0py 0f th3 0t4kul4nd F4Q, s0 1t's n0t a t0tal 
l0ss."  
B1ff calmed down a bit before continuing.  "8y th3 w4y.  W3 g0t 4n 1njur3d 
member.
A n3wb1e wh0 got h1t wh3n w3 tr1ed bl0w1ng up 3PCOT.  D0 y0u h4ve 4ny m3dic4l 
p3opl3 th3r3?  H3 n33ds tr3atm3nt f4st!"

	"I'll do it."  Before B1ff could react. "I know, what's a former soldier 
of the Otakuland Strike Force know about medicine?  However, I've seen enough 
Black Jack movies to get a diploma in surgery. I think I can handle a knife 
wound or two. 'Sides, only other person here's my wife."

	"Actually, Kenishi-san, it is not a knife wound.  It is a bullet wound."

	"Thanks, Sherman.  Anyway, that will only make it a little tougher." The 
video image appeared to wink.  "I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

	"0k, d00d!"  B1ff signed off.

-----------------

	Kenishi-san shut off his comm link.  He leaned back in his chair and 
smiled.

	"Arashi!" He called to the back of the carrier. "It looks like our old 
studes, the Hiroshima kids survived!  We're not the only ones after all!"

	"That's great, hon!"  His other called back.

	"Get some supplies ready!  We're going down to meet them!  Oh, and get 
some med equipment, too!  Seems like they have an injured with them!"

	"You don't have to shout. I'm right behind you."  Kenishi-san turned and 
saw the naturally-green-haired beauty beside him.

	"Do you think they know? Maybe we should tell them."

	"No, maybe at a later time.  This is something they may not be able to 
handle."  He scratched the X-shaped scar on his cheek.  It started to itch the 
past few days. Must be gonna rain, he thought.

	"First things first.  Let's get down there."  He paused when he passed by 
a mirror.  "Arashi?  Think they'll notice my new eyepatch?"

	"Seriously, dear, there are other things more important than your 
eyewear."

	"True, and you're one of them."  He smiled at her.  She blushed.

	"Aw, stop that.  We're going down to Sherman, aren't we?  I'll get the 
stuff." She passed him going to the supply closet.  

	"I hope things are as bad as I think."  Kenishi-san said to himself.

-----------





Author's Notes: (Must not steal W4's joke, must not steal W4's joke,...)

	To everyone, an advance Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year/Millennium! 

	First of, I really didn't expect to be writing the escape from Disneyland.  
I thought I was gonna write about how they blew up the place!  In addition, Mark 
Elliot's ending was totally unexpected.  It derailed some of my initial ideas 
from being written into this part.  Sadly, such is the nature of impro.  *Sigh* 
Anyway, it was fun trying to come up with a continuation while getting some of 
my previous ideas in.  ^_^ Yes, I really intended to write more than ten pages.  
Yes, I also wanted to reach more than 25 Kb. (Success!) No, I'm not talking to 
myself while I'm writing this. ^_^

	Hope I didn't mess up the characters.  I don't think I made them OOC since 
this is really just the start of their story.  (They can act weird sometimes, 
can't they? Especially with all they've been through.)   Another thing is the 
nature of Sherman itself/himself.  I had a problem trying to fit Rachael into 
the tank, seeing as how they put Dave in a closet when he first arrived.  Hence, 
the storage bay.  (I could have killed her of to make room inside the tank, but. 
. . I like her.  ^_^)

	Another thing: I thought that I would not be introducing new characters 
in my chapter, but the premise is just too rich!  Also, I read the message board 
suggestions but I don't know how to include some of the tribes suggested by 
NeoVid into my part.  Some other author has the honor of doing it. Also, I'm bad 
with giving names to people.  ^_^

	I really must try to manage my time.  I tried squeezing writing this in 
while doing three other reports/term papers.  Didn't finish it in time to send 
it to prereaders, so please forgive any mistakes I made.  ^_^  Please?

	My first attempt at an improfic.  How was it?  Send any C&C, even flames, 
to my email address : <09836926@mail2.dlsu.edu.ph> . All letters will be read.  
All 
criticisms will be taken graciously.  

	The numbers in my addy?  Oh, that's my Borg serial number.  ^_^