When Rachael was just a wee kindergoth, not much taller than the fetish boots her mother wore, her father told her that the only place the tribes would come together peacefully lay six feet under the cold, cold ground. The sands of Houston, where the AsianTown people made their home, were very hot indeed, and Dave and his two guides were climbing the steps to the comm tower, which rose several stories above said sands. When B1FF was just a chibi newbie, experimenting with lingerie-targeting chi attacks, his father warned him that righteous zeal wasn't the only thing that would make you go blind. Vixen... aw, never mind. Suffice it to say, several groups were about to come together, and when they did, it would be... FAQing Hostile Subcultural Mutant Otaku Versus the Mundanes Chapter 23 by Ian Ton (FAQing Hostile originally spawned by Twoflower) The AsianTown communications tower was both a marvel of post-Apocalyptic engineering (meaning it swayed like a sloshed salaryman in a stiff wind), and a testament to design-by-committee (meaning it had Chinese lines, Korean signs, Japanese size and an interior climate remarkably like Dien Bien Phu on a dog day). The tower housed the radar the tribe used to detect approaching visitiors, the ham radios with which they interrogated visitors, and the FM transmitter they used to broadcast SMAP! when they wanted visitors to go away. It also hid a little black box that the Otaku would need if they wanted to keep the Flames of Recca (or any anime, really) burning in their hearts. "Yeah, some Otaku techie offered to fix up our Sony transistors if we agreed to hold onto a box for him," Trinh Tien Vy-Xuan told Dave. "If you wanna take it off our hands, that's cool by us." "When was that?" Dave asked while his other guide, Lian-Xiao, knocked on the door. "Do you know who it was?" Dave was unlike the door in that the door got answered. A disheveled looking radio operator stuck his head out and blinked angrily at them. "Who is it? Oh, Trinh and Chow, huh." The Chinese girl fumed. "That's X-i-a-o, Geddy Li!" "You anglicize your way, and I'll anglicize mine." He turned sharply on Dave. "Speaking of which, who's the gwailo?" "An Otaku," Vy-Xuan said. "He wants that little black box." "The little black box? Oh, the paperweight, huh. Come on in." The control room was a jumble of wires and dials, mics and speakers. The only relatively clear spot in the room was the top of a card table at which three other operators sat, but even that was covered with green and white tiles. Dave and his guides had to squeeze their way in, an activity Dave would have enjoyed more if Vy-Xuan's earlier smackdown hadn't left him half afraid of her. Geddy Li sat down at the south chair of the table. "Right, guys, roll the bones." Four pairs of hands started dividing and rearranging the tiles. The clacking and clicking was so loud that Dave almost had to shout to be heard. "Um, sorry to interrupt, but, the box?" The operator at the north chair waved a hand in the general direction of a wall honeycombed with cubby holes. "Over there, somewhere. Li, what's dora this hand?" "Five bamboo." Dave looked questioningly to Vy-Xuan. "Mah-jongg," she explained. "Really? Wow!" Dave forgot the box quest for a moment and hovered excitedly near the table. He studied the set of tiles that Li was arranging. "Is that what an 'ii-shan-ten' looks like?" "No," the operator said. "This is something else, huh." "Ah. Then what *do* you call it when you have all those dragon tiles?" The other operators looked up at Dave, then at each other. "We fold," they said, and pushed all their tiles away. Slowly, very slowly, Geddy Li turned and regarded Dave with an eye that could charitably be called unfavorable. "Uh, that was a theoretical question," the Otaku coughed nervously. "Let's find you your box," Lian-Xiao hastily suggested. "Yes," the four operators said in unison, "Let's do." +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ B1FF and Phreakachu cruised the AsianTown marketplace. The former needed parts for the tank, the latter needed party supplies for getting tanked. The hentai complained to the Pokemon as it perched on his shoulder. "Th4t's the w4y it 4lw4ys g0es, 1sn't it, Phr34k? D4ve h4ngs 0ut w1th s0me ch0ice g1rls, 4nd I h4ve 2 f1x Sh3rm4n." "Pikachu, pika pika." "Ye4h, Z1rc0ni4 w4s a gre4t g1rl, but she's g0ne b4ck 2 Neo-K1bo. I'm t4lking ab0ut th3 h3r3 4nd n0w, Phr34k." "Get it here and now!" a barker's voice suddenly assailed them. " 'Sex and Zen!' 'Erotic Ghost Story!' 'Tokyo Decadence!' All the films you've wanted to see but were afraid to ask the clerk for!" The two of them turned to see a middle-aged Korean man standing in front of a wooden merchant's stall that fairly groaned beneath the weight of cassette and jewel cases. "Any format, any price! Buy four films and receive FREE this VHS tape of only the naughty scenes from 'The Last Emperor' and 'Farewell My Concubine!' Only second generation from master!" Phreakachu glanced at the dealer, then looked at B1FF. "Pika?" "Glaaaaaahhh..." B1FF said. "Chu pika?" "Glaaaaaahhh..." B1FF repeated, apparently unable to enunciate due to a sudden and advanced case of drooling. "Pikachu," Phreakachu sighed, and hopped to the ground. This was AsianTown: there had to be some Tsing Tao, or Singha, or 33 around here somewhere. The electric rat scurried off on his own tasks. +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ "I don't mean to take you to task," Director Richards said to her plastic surgeon, "But doesn't this mask make me look a little villainous?" "Glaaaaaahhh..." the plastic surgeon offered apologetically and as best he could while kneeling with the barrel of an AK-NT (a distant descendent of the AK-47, the AK-95, and the AK-98) nudging his tonsils. "Correction," Richards said. "I do intend to take you to task. But I am not a little villainess. I am a graduate with a degree in management, a full-fledged Director for the Lord of the Wares, and an armed individual. I acknowledge that operating in the field places certain limitations on your abilities, but you could at least provide me something with a little more dignity to cover up your mistakes." "Glaaaaaahhh..." "I mean really," she continued, her hand absently stroking at the mask, "this thing makes me look like a cartoon character." "Glaaa--" "No, no, don't bother," she held up an admonishing hand. From behind the half-mask of burnished steel that concealed the left side of her face, her rebuilt eye flared redly for a moment, but dimmed as she reigned in her temper. "I've already decided to forgive you. I'm not calling in to the Lord for replacements yet, and I'll need your... talents... with the scalpel when we catch up with the girl who did this." Richards jerked the gun out of the surgeons mouth-- *Glurk!* "Th-thank you, Director!" *Gasp!* -- and turned to consider the mobile force she had put together. A handful of APCs, a dozen odd cars rigged to accomodate gun mounts, and perhaps a dozen overpowered motor scooters represented the remainder of the convoy that had originally been commissioned to take over Evanston. A little light for going up against someplace like AsianTown, but then, Richards wasn't planning on a complete hostile takeover. AsianTown would fall in time. All she wanted right now was revenge. In fact... "Oh, doctor?" she trilled in a suspiciously sudden purr. "Yes, Director?" "Do we have anything left that can fly?" +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ o/^ "I pledge allegiance to the flag, Michael Jackson is-- " o/^ "Agent Hancock!" "Yes, Agent Doe?" Hancock answered from the back seat of the Restored CIA's long black car (license plate: NONDSCRPT). "You know, you're interrupting a classic." "New intelligence from Agent Bigboote on the red phone. The AOLers are moving." "How?" "Horizontally. Vertically, a little, but mostly horizontally." "Will they intersect our path to AsianTown, Doe?" "Yes, sir." "Agent Boy!" "Yes, Agent Hancock?" the driver saluted into the rearview mirror. "Take us off-road on a parallel course. We'll use those geeks as a cover for clandestine insertion." "Sir, yes, sir!" "Now, to reaffirm the patriotic moment which was so *rudely* interrupted, you will both accompany me in singing The Anthem. Doe, you sing with me; Boy, you take harmony. A-one, and a-two..." o/^ "O-oh, say can you seeeee... BY the Don's burly right..." o/^ +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ "Right, my son," said Sister McGranny, "your bandages are all changed. Would you like fries with that?" "Thank you, Sister." The ex-Ear may have nodded, or his head may merely have lolled about weakly as the McTruck bounced along the road to Houston. Since Strike Team Theta had crossed his path, Evan had been shot at, shot up, blown up, beaten up, dehydrated and nearly drowned. *And that Mississippi water,* he thought sourly, *tastes like turpentine.* He had begged the Knights and Nuns of the Order of Ronald to take him along on the AsianTown assault, but he wondered for the first time if revenge, unlike fried pieces of tuber root, might be better served cold. Or at least, at some point when squinting along a gun sight didn't make the spot between his eyes throb bewilderingly. "Don't you worry now, child," the old woman grinned and handed him a greasy packet of fries. "We'll show those soy-sloppers that a balanced meal means two-all-beef-patties- special-sauce-lettuce-cheese-pickles-onions-on-a-sesame-seed-bun." She made the holy sign of the arches in the air in front of her. Evan may have nodded again, or he might not have. The Order of Ronald was a little loopy for his tastes, but they did have a monopoly on food distribution in the land where he grew up. The Big Mac was practically currency on the east coast, redeemable at Disney World for merchandise and admission (five for an E-ticket). Best just to nod, or let the bouncing of the truck nod for him, and stay on their good side. *Amazing*, Evan thought. *The more tribes I meet, the more alike they look, and the less I understand them.* "Refill on your Coke, my child?" "Yes, Sister." "Hand me your canteen." *I wonder if there's a tribe for vengeful renegades with an anti-Otaku fetish?* "What's that, my son?" "I'm sorry, Sister-- what did you say?" "You were humming something. Singing, almost." "I was?" "It sounded like you said, 'Gan-gan-gan-gahng.' " Evan silently added Nadesico-infection to the list of Dave's Crimes Against Mundanity. "Uh, it was nothing, Sister." He tried to play it off with a weak smile. "Why, Evan! That's a perfect Grimace! You may have a place among the Order yet!" And Evan let his head drop to his chest. *Oh... my... God.* +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ o/^ "...or the laaaand of the TREEEES! Or the hooooome of the... Braves!" o/^ "Agent Hancock!" "What is it now, Doe?" "The red phone again. Agent Smallberries says the Knights of the Order of Ronald are moving, too." "How?" "Hori--" "Will they intersect our path, Doe?" "No, sir. They're on it exactly." "Ah... well.... that changes things a little." "Shall I pull further off the road, sir?" "No, Agent Boy. If you pulled any further off the road we'd be in the Rockies. Just, uh, hang back a little so we're in between them and the AOLers." "Brilliant tactics, sir. In between two waves of hostile artillerists, the defenders at AsianTown will never notice our three-man recon team in an unarmored sedan." "Precisely, Boy. Now, who's up for some George M. Cohan classics?" Boy and Doe silently cursed their luck at being stuck on assignment with the only agent to survive seven years of deep-cover work with the Hammersteins tribe. +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ "Oh... my... Goth! Yoon, will you look at this bloodberry candle?" "Wicked! Can we light it, Rachael? Please? Pouty please?" "... whatever." Yoon and Roh, AsianTown's resident "creatures of the blight," shrieked with unparalleled glee and scrambled through their darkened room for matches. When they heard that the visiting Otaku had actually brought a genuine Goth with them, they had sought the young girl out instantly. Obsessive anime fans with funny hair? Who needs them? But a girl who could show them how to do the legendary "dropping the keys" dance step... priceless. Rachael knew the girls meant well, and giving them her next-to-last bloodberry candle was the least she could do in return, considering all the kohl, henna, and black fishnet they had presented her with. Somehow, though... she felt more apathetic than she had in ages. She felt more apathetic than she had in ages and wasn't particularly enjoying it. Yoon and Roh noticed Rachael's bored expression, but took it as a sign of her aloofness. Surely, they were in the presence of gloomy greatness. "So, Rachael," Yoon said fidgeting in nervous anticipation against the confines of a black whalebone corset. "Who's more Goth: Peter Murphy, or Andrew Eldritch?" "Yooooon," Roh protested, "You know they both deny their Gothnicity." "Precisely! A classically Goth thing to do. Well, Rachael?" Rachael let her eyes wander listlessly from the low, dancing flame of the candle to the shadows playing about the hem of her newly furnished dress, then to the buckles on her knee-high Grinders. She had a momentary vision of black wings and a clockwork arm. "Lord Folken flies over them both," she said. "Who?" Yoon wondered. "I think he's in The Damned," Roh offered. "Sorry," Rachael hastily corrected. "I meant, uh, Brandon Lee in 'The Crow.' He... flies over them both." "Wicked!" the other girls chorused. "So, like, who's the ultimate Goth chick?" Yoon continued. "Aside from yourself, of course." "Spooky, Yoon, very spooky," Roh whispered in support. Rachael tried to concentrate. The gory scent of the candle was distracting her somehow. Blood and shadows, flashes of steel and fire... "Hard to say," she mused slowly. "Kagero had poison for blood and was cursed to kill those who loved her, but Kage Houshi could cloak herself in darkness and was afflicted with immortality. Both of them had shadows in their names and over their hearts..." Rachael caught herself short again and looked up. Yoon and Roh were staring at her raptly with wide, kohl-ringed eyes. "Wowwwww..." Roh said. "You looked *exactly* like Siouxsie in the 'Last Beat of My Heart' video when you spoke just now." "But who are Kagero and Kage Houshi?" pressed Yoon. "Were they in Poppy Z. Brite stories?" "No, they..." Rachael hesitated. These girls were treating her, Rachael Gunther Hexagon Diaphragm Foxtrot Bisexualis, as though she were Gawthik as Fuck... and she felt like a newbie. No wait a minute, that's not the right word. It's, it's... "Wannabe!" Yoon and Roh sat back suddenly, panicking. "We're sorry!" "We didn't mean to pester you!" "Please, have mercy!" "Sisters of Mercy!" "Ooh, spooky, Yoon, very spooky." *I wonder if I should just give up.* +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ "I wonder if we should just give her up," Seol Bae mused aloud to his wife, Han. The healer stood gazing out the window of their tidy clinic in the Korean sector. "Who, dear?" "That Otaku girl, the blue-haired one who collapsed earlier." "Whaaaat? I don't think her condition's *that* bad. In fact, I gave her permission to take a walk and check up on that tank of hers, down at the lot." "I don't mean give up on her medically. I mean give her up to whoever it is that's about to attack AsianTown." Han put down the pill bottle she had been struggling to open and regarded her husband as if he had just sprouted a second head. "What on earth are you talking about?" "Look," he replied, and pointed out the window. Han stood and moved to where she could see what he was pointing at. Against the blue midday sky of Houston, a lone ultralight buzzed steadily back and forth, trailing great plumes of black smoke behind it. In the still summer air, the aerial calligrapher wrote a simple message visible for miles: SURRENDER VIXEN +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ Vixen eased into the tank's command chair and leaned back slowly. The bed at the clinic had been fine, but she always felt more comfortable with gunnery controls nearby. "Hello, Sherman," she addressed the AI. "Welcome back, Commander Hiroshima," the tank answered. "I am glad to see you feeling well again." "Just a little lack-of-battle fatigue, Sherman," Vixen huffed, glad the tank couldn't see her blushing in embarrassment. Fainting from exhaustion was not a skill for which she wanted to be remembered in this town. Quickly turning back on the offensive, she growled, "But really, what else can I expect when I have to run around playing okaa-san to a bunch of people who are either newbies, hentais, drugged up, or any combination thereof? I'm the commander of Strike Team Theta, not a... a.... cruise director!" "Of course, commander." "And *you,* you Soyokaze-Bonaparte-Alphonse kluge job," she thumped on an undefended control panel with her fist, "would do well to remember that you're an Otakuland *strike* vehicle. You didn't get those Mokonas on your hull for visiting exotic ports of other tribes; you got them by blowing up strategic parts of other tribes!" "Of course, commander." Satisfied that she had put her part of the universe back in order, the blue-haired woman tried to arrange herself comfortably in the chair again. She couldn't. "Sherman, where the hell is everybody?" "Phreakachu and B1FF have gone to look for supplies--" "Drugs and smut." "-- Rachael is engaged in social interaction with representatives of the local population-- " "Sexually-confused flirting." "-- and Dave is retrieving the next black box from the communications tower." "Semi-competent bungling." The tank fell silent. After several minutes of quiet, Vixen realized that she had been waiting for Sherman to say something. She also realized that she didn't know what she wanted the AI to say. "Sherman?" "Yes, Commander Hiroshima?" "Uh... so, who would win in a shoot-out between Vash the Stampede and Rally Vincent?" The tank's databases hmmmmmed in contemplation for the briefest moment. "I believe--" *Brrrreeeeeee!* *Brrrreeeeeee!* Vixen sat up in surprise as klaxons and lights began flashing around her. "-- I'm sorry, Commander Hiroshima, but we are being hailed very urgently by AsianTown communications." She scowled. Baka AsianTown, baka wacky companions, and baka having-your- homeland-being-blown-up-sending-you-on-black-box-adventures. "Go ahead and open channel 3, Sherman." "Done." Dave's panicked voice crackled over the speakers: "-- might try it! Hello? Anybody there? We're in trouble!" "Dave?" Vixen radioed back. "What's wrong? Did you get the box?" "Uh, yeah, but... like I said, there's an army outside the walls telling AsianTown to hand you over, or they'll waste the place! I think they might try it!" "What, waste the place? Of course they'll try it; that's what armies do." "No! I mean hand you over! Have you looked outside recently?" *Knock, knock.* Vixen looked up at the command turret's hatch. Someone was banging on it, politely but insistently. "I apologize, commander," Sherman said quietly. "My short range external scanners are still out of order. B1FF is currently getting replacement parts." The Otaku commando hauled herself up the short ladder to the hatch. With one hand she held on to the ladder. With the other she unholstered a machine pistol and cautiously popped the hatch release. She peered out. The turret was surrounded by a smiling crew of AsianTowners equipped with the proverbial pitchforks and torches. Actually, the pitchforks were electrical cattle prods and the torches were flame-thrower-grade barbecue lighters, both specialties of the late Houston; but Vixen could tell by the look in the guards' eyes that semantics were not called for at the moment. Summary capitulation was. "I take it the council will see me now," Vixen sighed. +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ "Now, the way we see it," the Chinese council member explained, "this will take just a moment or two of blustering radio repartee to settle things peacefully." Vixen stood alone in front of the AsianTown council. They had not taken her guns or restrained her in any way, but she could smell the hostility in the room. Flame throwers were noticeable that way when they were aimed at a person. She asked, "Who are they, what do they want, and what are you going to do?" "Internet service providers," the Korean councilor said. "They want you, and we're inclined to let them have you. A good guest doesn't bring war with them." "Now, now," the Filipino councilor admonished, "the Otaku, though they look and talk funny..." All eyes turned to contemplate Vixen's leather-and-chrome fuku. She rolled her eyes in helpless exasperation. "... have always been allies of ours. They know what a good rice ball looks like, and they can repeat our names without getting confused. Besides, this provider has poor language-font support." "So," Vixen half-hoped, "you'll help me?" "No. We'll give you a running start." Vixen narrowed her eyes. "How so?" The Vietnamese councilor rose and addressed her. "While their force is big enough to cause us some trouble, they're not big enough to actually take the town. We'll tell them we're sending you out the east gate, and then we'll kick you out the west gate." Vixen shrugged. "Well, that's better than nothing. Just give me enough time to get my crew together and we'll be out of your hair." "You have five minutes." +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ "Just give me five minutes!" Dave pleaded. "I've got to find that box!" "You Otaku really piss me off, huh!" Geddy Li shouted. Dave was tearing through the control room's seemingly endless nooks and crannies, tossing papers and junk out of his way as he searched. At the same time, Li and two of the other operators whirled about him, trying to put it all back just as fast. The last operator was frantically relaying messages back and forth for the AsianTown defenders. "First you spoil a one-in-a-million hand, then you get us attacked, then you want to tear up our delicate order which took generations to get this way! Hey, plug that back in!" Dave and Li wrestled over a random piece of Samsung electronica. Vy-Xuan and Lian- Xiao alternated between nervous glances at the escalating fight inside, and terrified glances at the armed forces arraying themselves outside. From their position in the tower, they'd have an unpleasantly clear view when the shooting started. "Dave, why don't you come back for the box some other time?" Lian-Xiao suggested. Vy-Xuan nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, like when we're not about to be attacked." "I already told Vixen I got it!" Dave wailed. "If I go back without it, I'm paste!" "You're already pasty, gwailo!" Li snapped. "Hey, aren't you Otaku responsible for that Shampoo thing? Don't get me started, huh!" "The Otaku have apologized for Shampoo on numerous occasions!" Dave countered. "It says so right there in the FAQ. Now, please, let me move this thing! I think I see my box behind it!" "You see a cable-splitter! We use your box as a paperweight!" "Then WHERE!?" During their struggle with the Samsung unit, Dave somehow managed to push the "on" button, and Li somehow managed to turn the volume all the way up to twenty. Neither of them realized this until Li wrestled the cord away from Dave and jammed it spitefully back into a wall-outlet. With a skull-splitting shriek, every speaker in the communications tower let loose at full blast. The windows rattled, the walls shook, and everything not bolted down suddenly leaped two feet forward before falling down and burying the room's occupants in an avalanche of junk and noise. When Dave finally managed to get his head clear of the debris some sixty seconds later, he was surprised to find he was bleeding. The sound explosion had dropped the black box out of whatever hiding place and right into his lap, but not before bouncing it off of his noggin first. Clamping one hand onto the elusive artifact and the other to his aching scalp, Dave finished freeing himself from the wreckage and took a look around. Geddy Li and the other operators were ignoring the mess and jabbering wildly into their radios. He had trouble making out what they were saying; his ears still rang, and they didn't seem to be speaking English at all. Well, maybe one word of English. "I'm sorry," Dave tugged inquiringly at the first elbow he could. It turned out to be Vy- Xuan's, but she appeared too dazed to slug him. "I'm sorry," Dave tried again, "But did I hear them right? Did somebody say... 'the Ronalds?' " +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ "The Ronalds?" Director Richards looked to her lieutenant for confirmation. "Yes, ma'am, as in the 'Knights and Nuns of the Order of.' The ultralight says he just spotted them coming up behind us. They're in attack formation, too, some sort of reversed flying-wedge. Says it looks like two arches sweeping this way." "A pincer attack, eh?" Richards mused. "They're probably not after us, but they'll pin us against the AsianTown wall just the same." "Shall we withdraw, ma'am?" "No. Tell the AsianTowners we have a new deal for them." +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ "A two-for-one deal!" Sir Ronald exhorted his troops through a bull-horn. "We'll take out the AsianTowners for the regular price, and eliminate the Otaku for only 99-cents more! Fast-food effeciency, not self-sufficiency! AsianTown has resisted us before, but they deserve a break today!" In the McTruck just behind the leader, Ssiter McGranny, like so many others in the attacking force, was nearly moved to tears by righteous fervor. Nearly, but only nearly. After all, it would never do to mess up the Order's traditional war-path face paint. "Prepare yourself, Evan!" the old woman shouted. She had finished putting on her clown make-up, and suddenly doffed her habit to reveal a yellowish-orange jumpsuit with oversized shoes. The nun handed him a rifle, then started shaking her own weapon valiantly above her head. "Let's show them what 'take out' really means!" Evan hung on to both truck and rifle for dear life as the motorcade of angry clowns surged forward. At the left forward arm of the formation, Sir Ronald called out once more to his troops. "Jihad!" And the troops yodeled back, "Jeeeeeee-hawwwd!" +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ "Glaaaaaahhh..." Phreakachu smacked the heel of its paw against its forehead in mute disbelief. The pokemon had returned from shopping, a bulging sack of smoke-ables and potables over one shoulder, only to find B1FF standing in the same spot by the vendor's stall. The hentai had not moved in over an hour and a half. Judging by the small pool in front of him, he had been drooling the entire time, as well. "Pikachu. Pi pika ka chu," it said, and yanked hard on B1FF's grenade belt. "Glaa... huh? Wh4t?" He glanced around, then down. "Wh04, h3y Phr34k. Wh4t's up?" "Chu pikachu pika ka pika!" "Sur3 th1ng, d00d. Just g1v3 m3 4n0th3r m1nut3 2 t4lk tr4d3 w1th th3 m4n h3r3..." *YANK* *WHOOOOOOOSH* Phreakachu was used to blue streaks and the sudden sensation of flight, but tended to zone out when that sort of thing happened. Thus it was B1FF who, though extremely disturbed by the novel experience, realized he and his companion were being hauled bodily through the streets by Vixen dashing at full speed. "H3y! L1k3, wh4t's th3 b1g d34l, 5i5!?" "Somebody at the gate wants my head, and AsianTown is kicking us out," she said grimly, an impressive feat for a speedily dashing person. "We've got five minutes to rally and get out of here before the shooting starts!" "0k4y!" B1FF stopped resisting and let his sister do the running. He glanced over at Phreakachu, whom Vixen had by the scruff as they went. "Wh4t h4v3 u g0t th4t g00fy l00k 4, Phr34k?" "Piikaachuu..." the pokemon said, and hugged his stash. They rounded the corner to the lot where the tank was parked. "B1FF," Vixen said, panting now, "Tell me you got the spare parts for Sherman." "S0rry, 515." "Tell me you saw Dave come by with the box." "S0rry, 515." "Tell me we know where Rachael is." "S0rr--" "I'm right here," Rachael announced darkly. The trio screeched to a halt right in front of Sherman and discovered that Rachael was, in fact, already there, lurking in the shadow of the tank's enormous treads. She regarded them with calm, but not-apathetic eyes. "When did you get back?" Vixen demanded. "Just now," the girl replied. "I got bored." The Otaku commander began herding everybody onto the tank and into the hatch. "You came to the right place then, Gothgirl, because excitement is the only thing we don't lack right now." As soon as they were all inside, she bolted the door and called out to Sherman. "Sherman, is Dave still at the comm tower?" "Yes, commander. He--" "Tell him we'll pick him up there on our way to the west gate." "Yes, commander, but Dave says the situation has changed." "In what way?" "Another army has shown up." "WTF?" B1FF groaned. "Wh0 w4nts 2 c4p us n0w, th3 ph0ck1ng FHA 0r s0m3th1ng?" Sherman patched Dave through the internal speakers by way of explanation. *shhhh* "Uh, hey guys, this is Dave." *shhhh* Vixen and B1ff rushed to their stations while Phreakachu and Rachael listened in. "Explain yourself, newbie," Vixen said. *shhhh* "I got the box, but I've been listening in on the messages they're sending back and forth up here. Apparently, the Knights of the Order of Ronald are about to attack. They have a sort of 'Legend of the Galactic Heroes' relationship with AsianTown, only without the whole mutual-admiration-of-tactics plot. They're a serious threat." *shhhh* "And?" *shhhh* "And, that other army just offered to fight on AsianTown's side if they hand us over. Actually, not all of us, just you. Or at least your head." *shhhh* Vixen sat back and frowned. She opened her mouth to swear. "Kuso!" Rachael interjected. B1FF and Vixen turned to look at her questioningly. The black-clad waif shrugged. "What? They say it all the time in 'Urotsoki Doji.' " *shhhh* "Guys? Still there? I can see dustclouds rising now." *shhhh* "We're not going to hang around and find out what the AsianTown council decides to do," Vixen said. "Sherman, make full speed for the west gate. B1FF, get ready to haul Dave's ass in here. Dave?" *shhhh* "Yes?" *shhhh* "Start climbing down now and get ready to jump. And for Washuu's sake, switch to channel three! That static is driving me baka!" The tank peeled out and made for the gate under full steam, leaving torn-up asphalt in its wake. +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ "Oh, my," Sister McGranny said as she studied the attack force's path. Her tone was remarkably thoughtful for a woman in war clown costume. A chill ran down Evan's spine as he heard the words. "What's wrong, sister?" "There seems to be somebody between us and AsianTown. Sir Ronald is halting our attack run." And indeed, the McTrucks lurched to a sudden stop, spilling orange-and-whites onto the Houston sands. Evan let himself down gingerly and peered through the haze ahead. They were about a half-mile from the town, and sure enough, there on the northern side were the dark-green smudges of armored vehicles. He could just make out a standard flying from one of them... a four-colored diamond. "Where have I seen that before?" Evan wondered aloud. "Whoever they are," Sister McGranny stated, "if they don't want to be fish fillet they better pick a direction away from us and thank-you-drive-thru." *Direction.* Evan racked his brain. *Director.* Ah, yes, he had seen that standard before. They were the other nuts who wanted the Otaku. The ones who had pointed a gun at Evan for far longer than he liked. Evan suddenly didn't want to be part of this little culture clash. "Sister?" "Yes, my child?" "I'm going to pull back and do a little reconnaissance." Evan faced away from AsianTown and began to run. The startled nun watched as clowns parted to the left and right to let him pass. "Really? Bless you, my child! Come again soon!" +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ Sherman hardly slowed down at all as they passed the communications tower. B1FF would later complain that catching guys falling out of towers was a waste of his muscles, but Dave didn't take it too personally. "I got the box," he said as soon as he was inside, and pushed it at B1FF hurriedly. "d00d! W3 rul3 !!" Dave ignored him and rushed into the central control room. "Vixen! I saw while I was coming down that they've got a squad blocking off the western exit. I think the council decided to take them up on the offer." Vixen glanced at Dave, then at Rachael. "Rachael, would you do the honors?" The girl nodded, and proceeded to let loose a stream of Japanese profanities that would have blistered the ears of the most hardened yakuza in "Sanctuary." Dave sweatdropped. "L3t's bl4st our way out," B1FF said. "We've got the fire power." Vixen shook her head. "No. We can't fault them for doing the tactically sound thing. We also can't burn *all* our bridges." "Wh4t th3n?" "I'll think of something." She felt a tug at the hem of her fuku. "B1FF, if that's your hand, I swear to Ryo Saeba I'll cut it off." "Pikachu!" Vixen looked to her left. Phreakachu was standing next to her and trying to get her attention. "What?" "Pika." Phreakachu pulled a two-liter Sapporo can out of his bag, unscrewed the top, and chugged the contents down in three great gulps. "Kaaaaa--" it gasped, and wiped its whiskers off on the back of a paw. It tossed the empty can to B1FF, pointed, and said, "Pikachu pi pika pika chu ka pika." "Wh4t th3 ph0ck f0r, d00d?" "Pika!" it shouted, pointing again. "0k4y, 0k4y," the hentai relented. He whipped out a metal cutter and began sawing lengthwise through the large can. "This is all very interesting, Phreakachu," Vixen said through clenched teeth, "but we're-- " "Kachu," the pokemon said, holding up a paw. Phreakachu was swaying slightly as it reached into the sack again and pulled out a glass pipe and a Zippo, but still managed to light up quickly. "Pikachu pika pika pikachu," it explained hurriedly between hits. "Pika chu pika chu ka pika." With each hit, Phreakachu was speaking faster, and its tail was beginning to pop and spark with electricity. "Pika pi chu pikaCHUUU...! Pikachu." "Are you fucking insane!?" Vixen shouted when she realized what the creature had said. "Pikachu." The pokemon gave her a thumbs up. Its thumbs, it should be noted, were now shooting off sparks as well. "In th3 m3mbr4n3, d00d!" B1FF grinned. "What's going on?" Rachael asked. "What's he going to do?" B1FF held out one half of the can, and the pokemon hopped onto it. It curled up as B1FF closed the other half down and used the cap to hold the can loosely together. Vixen, at a loss to come up with anything better in the moments left to them, relented. "Sherman, bring us down to half-speed and ready the forward gun for special payload. Dave, grab a bag or something and open up the rear access hatch. Rachael, get some bandages ready." From inside the Sapporo cannister, Phreakachu's muffled voice called out, "Pikachu, pika pika!" "Right. Rachael, get some bandages and some 'primo luudes' ready." +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ "Ready, men?" the AsianTown squad leader called out. "The battle's about to start out there! Our job is to stop anyone from coming in *or* going out. Our new allies are going to help us put a hurting on the Ronalds, and we have to keep the Otaku from messing that up!" "Here they come, sir!" One of the defenders pointed down the street where the massive Otaku strike vehicle was just coming into view. The squad leader blanched at the sight of the armored behemoth, but put forth a brave face for his team. "Just remember, men!" He held up his flame-thrower and pointed it sternly. "Size is nothing!" *DOKAAAAAAN* "PIIIIIKAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" The Sapporo can exited the cannon muzzle at a speed just under the sound barrier. In the fading afternoon light of Houston, it seemed more like a ball of blue lightning than a munition round. Somewhere halfway between the tank and the defenders, the two halves of the can fell away like sabots to reveal just why. Phreakachu, drunk to the gills and cracked out to next Tuesday, had used the confines of the can to build up an enormous static charge. The kind of charge that, in days gone by, could have lit Akihabara for a week, if it didn't burn it down first. The uber-thundershocking rodent plowed through their ranks like the wrath of five kamis, pushing them out of the way with sheer electromagnetic force and sending half of them into defribulation for good measure. The west gate didn't open so much as it disintegrated. Three hundred yards later, Phreakachu plowed into the ground as the charge gave out. A moment later, Sherman passed right over the still-smoking but madly grinning pokemon, and Dave leaned down between the treads to scoop it up neatly with a pair of rubber gloves. The Ronalds, seeing the bright flash and hearing the explosions, assumed the fun had started and began firing on AsianTown. Director Richards, seeing the Ronalds open fire, hoped that the Asians had already trussed up the Otaku for her, and returned the compliment. Sherman and company rolled away, the sound of the tank concealed by the cacaphony of gunfire. "Are you okay?" Dave asked the self-crisping pokemon as he gingerly carried it to where Rachael and a small basket of pharmaceuticals were waiting. "Ph... ph... phreakachu," the creature smirked through numbed lips, and passed out. +_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+ "Oooh," Agent Boy said from a nearby hilltop as he watched the action through a pair of field glasses. "Fireworks!" "Dammit," Agent Hancock said, also looking on. "I was hoping they'd get caught in the crossfire and we could pick the FAQ out of the wreckage." "Hey," Agent Doe said, looking back over his shoulder, "there's a kid here pointing a Happy Rifle at the small of my back." "Hi," said Evan, who couldn't believe his luck in finding a car so quickly. "Can I get a lift? My tracking signal says that tank is heading towards Monterrey." ------------------------------------------------ To be continued... ------------------------------------------------ Author's notes: I said I was going to work on this thing right up to the wire, and danged if I didn't have to. Infinite thanks to Sharyna Tran, for a great set-up in chapter 22, and to everybody on the mailing list for their input (Sharyna, Mike Thrall, Mark Poa, and Nathan Espino). Gets to be like an Oscar acceptance speech, doesn't it? Once again, I have written a chapter where hiro, Kenishi, and Arashi make no appearance. But, they're in Canada somewhere, and Houston-to-Canada is beyond my scene changing abilities. I hope the wacky violence makes up for that. All mis-spellings and grammatical oddities in the Agents' singing were intentional. Use of the word "jihad" in this fanfic takes direct inspiration from culture theories put forth by Twoflower. Use of the phrase "tastes like Turpentine" takes direct inspiration from "Jelly's Last Jam." Such a reference, while unconscious for Evan, was inescapable for the author. If there's anything FAQing Hostile should teach us, it's that obcultref is as inevitable as it is infinitely diverse. Now, on to some omake. Really. Nick, you're up. Good luck! Ian Ton okaynowa@aol.com