Last time, on FAQing Hostile:  Subcultural Mutant Otaku Versus the Mundanes:

"Why are you trying to help me, dogson!" demanded Evan.

"I hate seeing things in pain, I want to help" answered Dave.

"You seem to be a nice guy, but I hate you so instead of flaying you alive and
ripping out your eyeballs, I'll just shoot you in the head and cut out your
heart." replied Evan with a slight wild look in his eye.

Dave aptly replied, "Thanks!"

And now, the continuation.

But first, the intro (cue drumroll, fanfare, and general excitement-type stuff):

=====

FAQing Hostile:

Subcultural Mutant Otaku Versus the Mundanes

Chapter 22

By Sharyna Tran

(FAQing Hostile was spawned by Twoflower)

(usual disclaimers apply, all sales are final, thank you and have a nice day)

=====

Dave sat on top of Sherman, thinking.  He hadn't really had much time to just
sit and think for the past few days - heck, who was he kidding?  He'd been
fighting, worried, sleeping, or hurt ever since he'd joined up with the otaku. 
The recent events had especially taken their toll on both his body and his mind.
 First their capture by the Directorate, then the harrowing escape...but the
most disturbing event by far had been his encounter with Evan.  Someone who
hated him, hated him enough to pursue him almost all the way from the beginning
of his journey.  Dave had spent most of his life trying to get along with
people.  The idea of someone hating him that much was abhorrent to him.  Evan
had accused him of killing his brother.  He had shot at many people since he had
joined with the otaku, but never with an intent to kill.  Yes, he had been
frenzied, which had probably been the case when he had shot Evan's brother. 
Frenzied, however, was no excuse.  He had killed someone, a!
nd that someone had been such an important person in his brother's life that
said brother would travel around the country to avenge his death.  Dave looked
over the side into the murky depths of the river that flowed parallel to
Sherman's course, the Mississippi.  His reflection stared back, dark and
distorted by the rippling water.  In this wavering mirror his face seemed harsh
and cruel, uncaring.  Dave studied it carefully, taking note of his every
feature.  Was this the face of a murderer?  Dave slowly lowered his head and
rested his forehead on his knees.  How many others had he killed without
knowing?  Did they have families?  Engrossed in his thoughts, Dave didn't hear
the quiet scraping behind him, or the footstep that followed.

***

Evan woke up slowly, reviewing the events of the previous day.  After Dave's
unexpected reply to his threat, he had let the bastard finish taking care of
him, watching him carefully for any weaknesses he could exploit later, when he
was feeling better.  Then Dave had left, and Evan had fallen asleep while
thinking up yet more ways to kill him.  He looked around.  The small room was
empty, with no sign of Dave or the dark-haired girl.  Evan got up and opened the
door, careful not to attract any attention.  He looked out into what he assumed
was some sort of a control room, crept out, and hid near a ladder that probably
led to the top of the tank.  From his hiding place, he could hear several voices
speaking.  
"C0rnbr34d, b1scu1ts, fr0z3n c0rn d0gs, hush pupp13s?  Wh4t 1S th1s stuff, s1s?"
Evan frowned.  It was difficult deciphering the alphanumerics, but he was
certain the voice was male.  Unfortunately, he was also certain it was not Dave.
"It's food, you ungrateful baka," a tough but definitely female voice replied.
"But 1t's..." the first voice trailed off as a light *thwap* was heard.
"We'll pick up something better at the next tribe.  Did you happen to do any
better with getting ammunition?" the female asked angrily.
"S33 f0r y0urs3lf," the male speaker answered smugly.
There was the sound of a box opening, and a soft "oh..."
"W3ll?"
"G-good job, B1ff," the female voice said, sounding somewhat stunned.
"Not that it matters to me, but where are we headed now?" a quiet, rather
apathetic voice asked.
"We are currently en route to the old city of Houston, Texas.  At our present
velocity, we should arrive in approximately four days," a somewhat mechanical
voice stated softly.
"Houston?  Why Houston?  Even though it doesn't really make a difference."
"That's where the next black box is," the second voice said.
"By th3 w4y, d1d w3 3v3r g3t t0 t4k1ng 4 l00k 1ns1d3 th3 b0x w3 f0und 1n B0st0n?
 0r th3 0n3 Phr34k f0und y3st3rd4y?"
"Actually, we didn't.  Thanks for reminding me, B1ff.  Sherman?  Could you take
care of that for us?"
"Hai, Ms. Hiroshima."
"And where's Dave, by the way?" the apathetic voice asked, obviously trying to
sound incurious.  Evan tensed up.  This was the information he wanted to know.
After a slight pause, the voice that had been identified as Ms. Hiroshima
replied slowly.  "I think I saw him go up on top earlier, Rachael."
"Thanks," Rachael replied.  Evan started up the ladder, but froze as he heard
footsteps approaching.  His heart thudded in his chest as they came closer. 
From what seemed to be miles away, he could hear Ms. Hiroshima and the tank
talking.  The footsteps came closer, and closer...and then stopped.  Evan held
his breath.  A few moments later, the footsteps began fading away.  Evan didn't
resume breathing until he couldn't hear them anymore.  After he was sure that
whoever it was had left, he climbed all the way up the ladder and silently crept
out on top of the tank.  Dave was there, sitting quietly with his head on his
knees.  Evan smiled grimly.  Perfect.

***

"Thanks," Rachael replied.  She began walking towards the ladder, intending to
go up and talk to him for a bit.
"Sherman, why didn't you tell her where Dave was?" Vixen asked curiously.
"Gomen, Ms. Hiroshima.  My scanning systems were damaged during the escape from
Evanston."
"Oh.  Will you be able to repair them?"  There was a brief pause.
"Internal scanners, hai.  Long-range external scanners were not damaged. 
Short-range external scanners...gomen, Ms. Hiroshima, but I will require
additional parts to repair them, and we currently have none."
"All right, we'll see if we can get some of those from the next tribe as well."
Halfway to the ladder, Rachael paused.  She really had no business intruding on
Dave.  The reason almost everybody went up top was to think - well, except for
Phreakachu, who came up to smoke when the fumes got on Vixen's nerves.  No one
wanted to be interrupted, and she felt uneasy about barging in on Dave.  After
all they had recently gone through, the boy needed some time to think by
himself.  Shrugging, she turned and walked away.

***

Evan readied himself for a fierce pounce on the man who had destroyed his life. 
Just a second before he could, however, Dave's head jerked up, and he turned
around, his mouth opening into an "O" of surprise.  "Na-" Dave managed before
Evan slammed into him, flailing around like a madman.  Dave tried his best to
counter Evan's wild strikes without hurting the other boy, but the former Ear's
moves were completely mindless, as if he was running on pure emotion.  Almost as
if...Dave jerked back in revelation.  It was almost as if Evan was frenzied! 
Was this what he was like when he was berserk?  He reeled back as Evan hit him
with a particularly hard punch.  The boy was totally out of control now.  Dave
gave up on trying to counter the fierce blows and concentrated on trying to
dodge them instead.  He was too short of breath to shout for help or even try to
talk Evan out of it like he had before.  

Evan fought grimly, a frozen smile on his face.  Here and now, his brother's
death would be avenged.  He could already see Dave beginning to weaken, and so
he doubled the ferocity of his attacks.  Nothing was holding him back now.  No
handcuffs, no guns, no tantalizing bits of information about Nadesico.  He
couldn't even feel the pain from his wound.  Just a little more...

Dave was backed up to Sherman's very edge now.  He risked a glance at the
flowing water below, meeting the eyes of his reflection for the briefest
instant.  Looking up just in time to see Evan jumping towards him, he managed an
agonizing roll.  Evan landed heavily and staggered up, death flashing in his
eyes.  He was tired, and hurt, but in his current state of mind none of those
things mattered.  Broken and bleeding in a dozen places, Dave knew he couldn't
last much longer.  It seemed that now Evan was finally going to be able to
finish him off, and no one would know.  Not Vixen, not Rachael, not B1ff or
Phreakachu or Sherman.  He was going to die, and die alone.  Through his bruised
eyes he could see Evan preparing for another leap.  Dave sighed and laid his
head back, getting ready to die.  Suddenly, an image formed in his mind.  An
image of himself as he was, as he must appear to the other boy.  A weak,
spineless coward giving up without a fight.  What was he doing?  None !
of the anime heroes he had studied would ever surrender so easily.  His eyes
flashed, and he began to raise himself up again.  He might be about to die, but
it was not going to come easy.  Evan lunged at him again, a feral growl rising
through his throat.  Dave was only partially off the ground, but he raised his
arms in what was probably a futile gesture to ward off the coming attack...

Evan rushed towards Dave, what was once a cry of "For you, brother!"  coming out
as a vicious growl.  Finally, revenge would be complete.  The murderer wasn't
even trying to defend himself.  At the last moment, however, he raised his
arms...

And threw Evan off of the tank, a last-ditch gesture unconsciously turned into a
martial arts throw.  Evan tumbled down, scraping himself numerous times against
the rough metal.  He fell into the river and drifted off in the dark currents. 
"Curse you, Dave..." he mumbled before letting the cool water overwhelm him.

Dave sat in shock, watching the still body of the former Ear float off.  Another
death, another casualty at the hands of Dave the murderer. This time he didn't
even have the excuse of being frenzied.  He stared at his hands, tears streaming
down his bruised face.  These hands had taken yet another life, killing off an
entire family.  He slumped against the turret, quietly damning himself before
crawling towards the ladder and half-climbing, half-falling down it.

***

"Pika, pika pika, 'Ka pi, kachu pi!' "
B1ff burst out laughing at Phreakachu's joke, while Vixen stared in shock and
Rachael simply said "I don't get it."
"Allow me to explain, Rachael," Sherman offered.  "You see, the tall man with
the very long moustache suggested-"
A loud thump interrupted Sherman and announced Dave's re-entry into the main
cabin.  The otaku and Rachael gave him a brief glance, then did double-takes as
they noticed his injured condition.  
"What the hell happened to you, Dave?" Vixen nearly shouted as she and the
others rushed to his side.  
"I...I killed Evan..." he whispered, still somewhat disbelieving.
"You did WHAT?!"  Vixen did shout this time.
Dave took a shuddering breath and told the whole story, starting from Evan's
first pounce.  "And then I just put out my hands, like this," and he
demonstrated, "And the next thing I knew, he was in the water.  It all
just...just happened, and I...I killed him..." he said again, his voice trailing
off.
"Well, I think it's all for the better," Vixen told him, brushing off her knees
as she stood up again.  "He would have just got in the way, trying to kill you
all the time."
Dave was stunned.  "H-how can you say that?" he asked her, amazed at her
cold-blooded tone.
Vixen walked off without a word, Dave staring after her in shock.
"D0n't w0rry 4b0ut s1s," B1ff told him, putting a hand on Dave's shoulder. 
"Sh3's st1ll r4ttl3d by s331ng y0u c0m3 d0wn l1k3 th4t.  1'm g01ng t0 g0 s33 1f
1 c4n f1nd s0m3 m3ds 4nd stuff f0r y0u, 0k4y?"  Then he, too, left.
"Kachu," Phreakachu shrugged, going back to his closet.
Dave turned to Rachael, who blinked.  "Umm...I guess I should help you into
bed?" she suggested uncertainly.  
"Thanks," he agreed.  He wasn't sure if he would be able to walk on his own
anymore.
Rachael put an arm around him and half-carried him into the room and laid him on
the bed.  
"Rachael?" he asked quietly.
"Yes?"
"Do you think I'm a murderer?" 
Rachael looked at him.  "Listen, I understand how shaken up you must be because
of that, but it was self-defense.  There's no need to keep beating yourself up
like that."
"You didn't answer my question."
She sighed.  "No, you're not a murderer."
"How can you say that?  I've killed so many people..." 
"Dave, every single time you've killed someone, it's been in self-defense."
"So?  Self-defense is no excuse!"
"You were fighting to save your life, and most of the time, our lives too.  You
never meant to kill."
"Still, I DID KILL.  I'm a murderer."
"No," Rachael contradicted softly.  Dave gave her a glare filled with anger,
some directed towards her, but mostly toward himself.  She ignored it and
continued.  "Look, if you want to keep on calling yourself a murderer, do that. 
But think about this:  Would a murderer tear himself up about this like you're
doing now?  Besides, you have to remember that this is OUR world, not some fairy
tale paradise where everyone lives in peace.  Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going
to go see what's taking B1ff so long with the medical supplies."  With that, she
walked back out, leaving Dave with his wounds and his thoughts.

***

"H3y s1s, w3'r3 d0n3 w1th th3 f1rst b0x!" B1ff called.  
"And it took you two days?" Vixen remarked acidly.
"W3ll, th3 0p3n1ng m3ch4n1sm w4s j4mm3d!" 
"Right, right, whatever," Vixen said, waving aside his protests.  "So, what's
inside?"
"S4ys h3r3 th4t w3'r3 supp0s3d t0 g0 t0 M0nt3rr3y 4ft3r Ch1c4g0 4nd H0ust0n."
"Monterrey?" Rachael asked.
"A city in what was once Mexico," Sherman told them.
"Ah," Vixen said.  She frowned.  "I wonder why the boxes are getting so close
together all of a sudden."
"Must b3 s0m3th1ng t0 d0 w1th us g3tt1ng cl0s3r t0 0t4kul4nd W3st," B1ff
shrugged.
"Did you find anything else in the box?" Dave asked.  His wounds, however much
they had hurt at the time, were mostly superficial, aside from a broken rib or
two, and had healed nicely.  
"N0p3."
"All right then, get to work on the second box," Vixen ordered, sweeping away.  

***

Phreakachu sat in his closet, his bleary eyes focused on a small picture of his
idol.  Feet spread in a fighter's stance, weapons at the ready, and a ferocious
expression of rage on her face, Vixen stood in all her glory.  Phreakachu stood
up and planted his feet firmly on the floor, holding his little arms in a
military position similar to Vixen's.  He then looked down at himself and
sighed.  Dropping the pose, he picked up his gin bottle, raised it in a salute
to the picture, and drank.

***

B1ff sighed as he sat on top of Sherman.  This whole thing Dave had gone through
almost reminded him of himself.  He remembered how he'd felt the first time he
had killed.  Confused and guilty, he'd sunk deep into apathy, wondering
constantly how he'd been capable of such an act.  His sister had been the one to
bring him out of it, who'd shaken him back into reality and reminded him that
he'd had no choice at the time.  B1ff smiled.  Although he was the older
sibling, Vixen had always been the strong one, never hesitating to physically
force common sense on anyone.  She was also the only one who truly knew him. 
Most people thought of him as merely an incurable hentai, but the genetic
experiments he and Vixen had undergone had substantially increased the level of
some of his hormones, the effect being that he was now seen as a pervert
wherever he went.  Only Vixen knew the old Biff, the kind, friendly little boy
he had once been.  B1ff sighed and went inside.  He could only ta!
ke so much serious thought in one day, after all.

***

Sherman trundled on.  It was the third day, and it was raining.  Hard.  He had
repaired his internal scanning systems, and decided to test them out.  Ms.
Hiroshima and B1ff were in the control room working on the second black box,
Dave was in the storage room taking inventory of the supplies, Phreakachu was in
his closet taking inventory of his narcotics, and Rachael was in the viewing
chambers watching...watching...well, if a tank was able to sweat-drop, Sherman
surely would have.  The internal scanners were obviously working, so Sherman
turned his attention to other matters.   
My, it was certainly raining hard outside.  Raining very hard indeed.

***

"Sherman, what tribes control Houston?" Vixen asked.
"Houston has been renamed AsianTown and is occupied by the descendants of Asian
immigrants who traveled to the United States long ago.  It is classified as an
ally of Otakuland."
"Asian immigrants?" Dave gasped.  "You mean, real Oriental people?  From...from
the Orient?"
"Hai," Sherman replied.  "We will arrive in approximately eight hours."
Dave opened his mouth to ask another question, but Vixen interrupted.  "B1ff,
what did you get from the second box?" 
"4ft3r M0nt3rr3y w3 h34d f0r Ph03n1x, 4r1z0n4."
"Phoenix, Arizona?"
"Th4t's wh4t 1 s41d."

***

About a mile outside of AsianTown they were contacted.  
"Who are you, and what do you want?" a staticky voice demanded.  
"We are the survivors of Otakuland," Vixen answered.  "We need supplies and a
black box."
"Supplies and a wha?"
"A black box."
There was a pause.  "Well, we can't promise you we'll be able to provide that
last, but you're welcome to enter."
The otaku sat back, expecting the transmission to end, but it continued.
"Otaku?  Who're those again?" another voice asked.
"Well, they're those-" the first voice was cut off by another's "Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh!
 The transmission's still going!"
"What?!  Cut it off, cut it off!"
"I'm trying, but it's no-"  The transmission cut off.
The otaku gave a collective blink.

***

As Sherman rolled through the gates of AsianTown, Dave stared outside in awe,
his self-damning angst forgotten in favor of gaping at the wonders before him. 
Here were houses with upward-curving roofs, Buddhist temples, everything he had
ever dreamed an Oriental city to be.  This was completely unlike the realm of
the Golden Wing Nut Triad Tribe.  The Golden Wing Nuts had been like the otaku
in that they were Americans trying to imitate Asian culture, but this city had
been built by REAL Oriental people, not just people like hiro who'd had "the
change."  Dave's eyes bugged out as he saw a young Oriental woman walking down
the street. His impulses took over and he leapt out of the tank.  Dimly, he
could hear Vixen shouting at him in the background, but he didn't care.  
He came to a stop in front of the young woman, who blinked at him a little.
"What do you want?" she asked.
Dave stuttered.  "I...I...you...you're Asian!"
"Yes..." she replied, slightly nonplussed by the crazy boy.
"Wow...you must be Japanese!  I can tell by your face and your eyes
and...gack..." Dave said as the young woman grabbed him by the throat.
"What did you say?" she asked dangerously, her eyes narrowed.
"Gaa...so...NOT Japanese?" he managed.
"No, I am NOT Japanese.  I am Vietnamese."  And with that, she punched Dave in
the jaw and stalked off.
"D00d, y0u 0k4y?" B1ff asked concernedly as the otaku clustered around a wounded
Dave yet again.
"Uh...yeah..."  Dave answered, touching his jaw gingerly.
"Way to make a first impression, newbie," Vixen said derisively, frowning.  "I'd
better go see if I can smooth this over."  Vixen walked away, trying to catch up
with the young woman.  Dave gazed after her with a hurt look.

***

"Well, how did it work out, not that I care?" Rachael asked as Vixen returned.
"As it turns out, the girl Dave insulted happens to be a member of the AsianTown
council," the blue-haired otaku replied, glaring at Dave.  "Luckily,  I managed
to persuade her not to throw us out and to bring us to the council meeting
tonight.  She's sending a guide over to show us to our quarters before then."  
As Vixen finished speaking, a short girl with long black hair ran up to them. 
"You are the Otakuland survivors, right?" she asked.
"Um...yes," Dave answered.  "Are you...I mean, where are you from?"
"I'm Filipino," she told him, extending her hand.  "My name is Chona Park."
"Oh!  Uh...I'm Dave Smith."  He shook the proffered hand and introduced the
others.  When all of that was done, Chona led them to the small guest building
on the outskirts of town.  "Here are your rooms.  If you need anything, call for
me and I'll be there.  Okay?  I'll come back for you when you need to leave."
She then disappeared.
"Well, I guess all we have to do now is get cleaned up for the meeting," Vixen
told them.
"Pika, ka chu pi pika?"
"I think she said it was at sunset, Phreakachu." 
"Ka."

***

When Chona came back for them, the change was remarkable.  Vixen had let her
blue hair down, and exchanged her leather fuku for a Nabiki-esque outfit.  B1ff
had changed into a nondescript suit.  Dave had fallen asleep almost as soon as
he'd entered his room, woken up just before Chona returned, and only had time to
brush his hair and change into clean clothes.  Rachael had gotten a headache and
elected to stay in her room, while Phreakachu had decided to keep Sherman
company and get himself falling-down drunk in the process.

"Now, remember," Vixen warned as they walked to the council meeting.  "We have
to be on our best behavior.  No making hentai remarks and no ignorant insults,
got it?" she glared at her two companions.  The effect was slightly spoiled by
the yawn she gave immediately afterwards.  She hadn't slept since Blue Memphis.
"Sh3 f0rg0t n0 g01ng 0n 4 r4mp4g3 4nd sh00t1ng 3v3ryth1ng 1n s1ght," B1ff
murmured to Dave under his breath.  Dave snickered, which earned him another
glare from Vixen.  Fortunately for him, they arrived at the council chambers
before Vixen could reproach him.  

The council was already in session.  The talking in the room died down as Chona
entered with the otaku.  They were ushered to a small, rectangular table facing
a larger, round table surrounded by twelve seats, eleven of which were occupied.
 After the otaku were settled, Chona took her place at the twelfth seat.  All
the while the otaku had been watched with incurious silence.  

The young woman Dave had bumped into earlier stood up, glared at him, and began
speaking.  "I bring to the council's attention the Otakuland survivors that
arrived earlier today."  
"Ah, Vy-Xuân?  So," the head of the council said, "What is it you wish here in
our city?"  
Vixen rose, stifling another yawn.  "We need food supplies and mechanical parts
for our tank," she stated politely.  "We are also searching for a black box."
"A black box?" he frowned.  
"Yes," she affirmed.  "It is supposed to have a grey circle on one side," she
added helpfully, swaying on her feet a bit.  She frowned imperceptibly and
returned to her stiff, upright pose.
"I think I've seen a box like that lying around the communications tower,"
another council member volunteered.  The otaku gave a quiet sigh of relief.
"Well then, if that is the box you seek, you may have it," the council head told
them, waving a hand dismissively.  "As for the rest, you are welcome to it.  How
long will you be staying?"
"Not long," Vixen replied.  "We hope to leave as soon...as soon as..."  Vixen
fell to the ground in a heap, snoring peacefully.  Four days without sleep had
finally caught up with her.

***

Vixen woke up in a dimly-lighted room.  Two unfamiliar faces stared at her.
"What...where...huh?" she asked intelligently.
"You passed out in the middle of the council floor," one of the faces told her.
"You're in one of our sickrooms," the other continued.
"Are...doctors?" she managed.  It was difficult to think straight, much less get
her mouth around the words.  
The male face nodded.  "That's right.  I'm Seol Bae, and this is my wife Han. 
We are the healers of the Korean sector."
Vixen squinted.  If they were a bit further away... "Council?"
"Yes, we're both on the council," Han answered.  "I'm pleased to see that you
recognized us."
Vixen frowned.  "Can't...can't...think..."
"You're suffering from acute exhaustion," Seol told her.  "It's only been an
hour since you passed out;  you need more rest.  A few days more, to be exact."
And that was the last thing she remembered before drifting off again.

"So, I guess we're stuck here for a few days," Dave said to B1ff.
"Y34h," the otaku replied.

***

Evan opened his eyes and gave a heartfelt groan.  Once again, Dave had eluded
his grasp.  He tried to sit up, but was restrained by a pair of gentle hands. 
"Don't move," a soft voice cautioned.  He looked up into the gentle eyes of an
old woman in a nun's habit.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Sister McGranny," the old woman replied.
"Where...where's Dave?" he demanded.
"Dave?"  Sister McGranny frowned.  "I don't know about any Dave, but I'll go see
what I can do to help them find your friend."
"No!  Not...friend!  Dave!"
The old woman gave him a concerned look.  "You need to get some more rest, young
man," she told him.  "You've got a nasty head wound, and it won't get any better
by you screaming like that."
With that, she got up to leave.
"Wait!" he cried.  She turned around.  "Where am I?" he asked petulantly.
"You are in the care of the Knights and Nuns of the Order of Ronald," she
replied.
"You mean you're..." he began, his eyes wide.
"Yes, we are they who distribute food throughout this broken land," she said. 
"Our task is that of feeding every hungry soul in this once-nation.  Now, rest."

***

"So, how many kinds of Asian people are there here?"  Dave asked Chona as they
walked around.
"There are five main nationalities," the short girl answered.  "Filipino,
Vietnamese, Chinese, Korean, and Japanese."
"Japanese?!" Dave exclaimed.  "You mean...real Japanese people?"
"Of course.  Here, I'll show you to the Japanese sector," Chona told him.

"Midori!  Shikedou!" Chona called as they came across two teenagers in the
street.
"Chona!  Hi!" the girl smiled, coming over.
"Dave Smith, I'd like you to meet Tanaka Midori and Tanaka Shikedou, and yes,
they ARE real Japanese people," Chona grinned.
The boy, Shikedou, cocked his head at him.  "What tribe are you from?" he asked.
"Well, I used to be a Pop Rocker, but I'm an Otaku now," Dave stated.  He was
ecstatic!  For the first time in his life, here were REAL Japanese people!  He
was so excited he could hardly stand it.
"Pop Rocker?" Midori squealed.  "Wow!  That means you must have tons of 98
Degrees stuff!"
Dave blinked.  He wasn't sure if he'd heard her right.  "98 Degrees?"
"Yeah!  And Backstreet Boys and 'N SYNC!  I love them all!" she told him
excitedly.
"You...you like...pop music?" he stuttered.
"Oh, yes!  My favorite song is 'Because of You'!  I love the lyrics!"
Dave stepped back, gulping.  He turned to Shikedou.  "Do...do you like 98
Degrees too?"
The boy grimaced.  "That junk?  Of course not!"  Dave relaxed.  
"It's Christina Aguilera that's the real pop star!  Don't you agree?"  Shikedou
turned to Dave for his opinion, but he had fainted.

***

"DO WE HAVE ANY NEWS OF THE WHEREABOUTS OF DIRECTOR RICHARDS?" the Master's
voice thundered.
"No, my Lord," one of the Directors said respectfully.  "We have also lost
contact with Director Williams."
"DIRECTOR WILLIAMS IS NO LONGER OF ANY CONCERN," the Master replied.  
"But - I mean, I see, my Lord.  What shall we do in the event that Director
Richards does not return?"
"WE SHALL FIND A REPLACEMENT AND SEND OUT SEARCH PARTIES.  WITH TERMINATION
PAPERS."
"Termination papers?!" the three remaining Directors gasped.  
"A DIRECTOR CANNOT BE ALLOWED TO ROAM AROUND FREELY," the Master stated
emotionlessly.  "NOW, BEGIN YOUR DUTIES."
"Hail to the Master of Wares!" the three Directors chorused.

***

"Come on, you've been sleeping for a day and a half.  You must eat," Han
insisted, pushing the loaded tray of food back under Vixen's nose.
Vixen sighed.  There was no avoiding it.  "What is all this stuff, anyway?" she
asked, hoping to stall a bit so that her stomach could settle.
"These are delicacies from all of the major nationalities of AsianTown," the
middle-aged Korean woman answered.
Vixen looked down at the tray.  Of all the assorted "delicacies," only one
looked familiar.  A simple, hard-boiled egg.  She poked at it curiously. 
"What's this?"
"Oh, that's balut.  It's from the Filipinos."
Vixen looked at the egg some more, then shrugged.  "Balut" was probably just
some fancy Filipino word for hard-boiled egg.  She picked up the spoon on the
tray and cracked the shell.  Funnily enough, instead of the hardened egg white
she had expected, she encountered some strange veined membrane.  She dismissed
it as a peculiarity of the eggs of the area, and picked that apart too. 
Finally, Vixen was face to face with...a tiny duckling, nestled among a sea of
dark brown juice.  Another woman might have screamed, but Vixen merely greened
slightly and pushed the tray away.  
"Is there something wrong with the balut?" Han asked sweetly.

***

Directress Richards stared at the map.  "AsianTown, eh?  I'll have them soon
enough," she muttered.   She ran a finger over her left eye, remembering the
moment the blue-haired woman had shot her.  "They will not escape me."

***

"And...and just when I thought I'd finally be able to avenge my brother, he...he
pushed me off the tank!" Evan sniffed into Sister McGranny's arms.
"What a horrid man!" Sister McGranny exclaimed disapprovingly.  "I will tell
your story to Sir Ronald, our leader!  We must do something to prevent these
wretched Otaku from doing any more damage to innocent young people like you!" 
Sister McGranny hurried off to speak with Sir Ronald.

***

"So, do YOU listen to American pop music?" Dave asked fearfully.  The two young
women on either side of him shook their heads.
"American pop music is so repetitive," the one on his left, Sun Lian-Xiao,
replied.
"Yes, I much prefer our own," the other one added.  She was Trinh Tiên Vy-Xuân,
the girl who had punched him upon their first meeting, and she turned out to be
a fairly nice person if not insulted.
The two girls, one Chinese, one Vietnamese, were escorting him to the
communications tower to find the black box.  Vixen was still recuperating, B1ff
was fixing up Sherman using the parts the Asians had scrounged up, Rachael was
comparing notes with some Korean goths she had found, and Phreakachu and Sherman
had not moved.
"Although..." Lian-Xiao mused.  "Kevin from the Backstreet Boys WAS fairly
handsome..."
Dave and Vy-Xuân sweat-dropped.

***

"Of course we will help you, dear Evan," Sir Ronald told him gently.
"Good.  The tracking device I planted on them a while ago says that they're
somewhere in the vicinity of...some place called AsianTown."
"The Asians!" Sir Ronald exclaimed, his eyes blazing.  "Perfect!  In one blow we
can aid this poor boy and defeat our greatest enemies as well!"
"Enemies?" Evan asked.  "Do you hate the Asians or something?"
"They grow their own food!" Sir Ronald told him in disgust.  "And nauseating
food, too!  You would not believe the things those barbarians eat!  When we came
to offer them some of our hard-gathered supplies, they had the nerve to tell us
our food was disgusting!  Imagine!  'Char-broiled leather patties' indeed!  We
must destroy them!"

=====
Yes, it's the end of this chapter.  Finally, eh?  I hope all the formatting and
stuff worked out right.   I originally had a lot more ideas for this, but I
couldn't seem to fit them all in, even with an extension.  I hope it's all
right, and that *checks the queue* Ian Ton doesn't feel overwhelmed by all of
this stuff I'm leaving him with.  Forgive me, Ian?  ^-^;;

Anyways, I'm Sharyna, and yes, I'm another newbie to Impro.  *sigh*  If it
weren't for Mark Poa, we'd have three newbie chapters in a row.  That's just
plain scary.  
And now, the "thank you" list...*takes out a huge scroll*  In no particular
order...

Thanks to Assassin, Mark Poa, Tempest, and Clint Milton for comments,
suggestions, and ideas.  I can't even begin to list the amount of help they gave
me on this.

Thanks to Mark Poa and Philip Barkow for pre-reading the first half of this. 
Your last-minute comments (well, most of them) were very helpful.

Well, that's about all, so until my next part...