Magical Girl Hunters Part 3: Created by Aaron Shattuck, Written by Gray Brangwin ---- There were times when I considered changing to another line of work. One of them was when I was staring at Itami's hospital bill. There *is* something rather shocking about a 200,000 yen hospital bill, after all. Especially when our most recent payment looked unlikely to ever reach us. But still, not to take a certain cliche, but *someone's* got to do it -- the encounter with "Captain Kawaii" (the pre-pubescent freak!) had only cemented that in my mind. If we ever stopped running control on them, soon the whole friggin' city'd be overrun with gaudily dressed, mini-skirted murderous freaks ready to take out perceived evil without a care for collateral damage or innocent bystanders. The survivors'd blame it on the "evil", and the ones caught in the crossfire sure as hell wouldn't be able to complain. It was the same rationale I ran through my mind every single time a little something like, say, almost getting killed by a virtual toddler put doubts in my mind as to my choice of occupation. But still, there was the hospital bill to consider... ---- It was remarkably easy to take care of that bill. Temporarily, I know, but until all thirty of the cheques I gave them bounce, they'll be too busy checking the next one to come after me. I just hope that isn't before Itami gets out.. Did I mention how Itami creeps me out sometimes? Most people with two arms dislocated, shattered, and/or mangled in such a way as to render them almost unrecognizable as arms tend to either groan pitifully or bemoan their fate. Itami's the only one I know who just stares at the ceiling. I mean, you'd think he'd at least say *something*. Well, actually he did, but monosyllabic responses don't really count. And you'd think he'd at least try to move around a bit -- after all, it's not like everything got broken, only his arms. But no, he just stays there are stares at the ceiling. There wasn't anything interesting on the ceiling, no. I checked. In any case, I soon left -- it's not easy to think about ways to extract cash from a reluctant client (also known as 'deadbeat') when your hospitalized partner's creeping you out, so I went back to the office. Sometimes, one wonders at the idiocy of both these "magical girls" and their victims. For successful criminals, the latter really are complete fools sometimes. For one thing, if you're trying to blow someone away, you do *not* tack the bomb onto the front of the door, in plain sight. I saw. I paused. I considered. I spent the next two hours inspecting every inch of the surrounding area for other bombs. I went outside, climbed up the wall and in through the window, and checked the entire office for other bombs. I went back out through the window and back into the building, before stopping in front of the bomb again. I drew my knife and inched towards the bomb, expecting some other devilish trap I had somehow missed to spring shut. I placed my knife against the detonator wire (blue wire, red wire, detonator wire... which is the obvious choice?), anticipating the activation of a hidden mechanism to blow up or hit me with a poisoned needle or something. Breathing heavily, I applied pressure, expecting some kind of youma to show up to make gnashing noises at me at the very least. I cut the wire. For long moments, there was complete, cathedral-like silence. After more long moments, there was *still* complete, cathedral-like silence. After more long moments, I disgustedly replaced my knife in it's sheath and flung the door open, ripping the bomb (which was being held up by double-sided tape) off the door as I entered. Sometimes things just have to be taken at face value. ---- I was loungingly indolently in a chair, toying idly with the bomb with one hand and just as idly tossing darts at the dartboard with the other. I didn't bother getting up to remove the darts; it wasn't like I'd be running out of them anytime soon. (We kept a box of about two hundred darts below the desks. They used to double as backup weaponry back when we had trouble affording ammunition.) Any observer might have thought I was just lazing around. Well, I was, but I was also thinking. The problem now was how to get Mashihaisha Ultra to pay up. With Itami stuck in the hospital, we wouldn't be able to take other jobs for a while, not if we wanted to keep a 99% success rate. (And, for that matter, if I wanted to keep my life.) In any case, we couldn't just let the backstabber off, because it'd set a bad precedent and soon we'd never get paid. Besides, I *wanted* to get a crack at him. The problem was -- how? *thunk* *thunk* *thunk* *chik* Damn, missed.... I suppose I could sneak in and just *steal* the cash, but it wouldn't be that easy. Anyway, it wouldn't be satisfying to my pride, either. Not to mention that other potential deadbeats might not get the message. Hmm... *thunk* But what else can I do? Demanding the money up-front'll get me killed faster than the yummy light could cause sugar-induced heart attacks. And given the look of Mashi's underlings, even if I took him hostage they'd only be far too glad to let me get rid of him. So what other option did I have left? *thunk* The dartboard was beginning to bear a close resemblance to a pincushion. ....ah, what the heck. I'll steal the cash, *then* sabotage his operations. Maybe after the second one they'll get the message. *thunk* Ah, screw it, how in the world would I even be able to sneak in? This was a bloody yakuza-type organization with big, slavering (though usually ineffective) monsters at their command! Heck, I didn't even know where their base *was*! *thunk* *clack* The darts were beginning to bounce off other darts. The dartboard itself was facing the problem of overpopulation. For a moment, an image of Kyo and Mai crossed my mind. The first thing I considered was that those couldn't be their real names. It was far too easy to tell just *where* they'd derived their aliases from. The second thing I considered was if I could possibly get their help in getting back at Mashi. But no -- even if I could somehow find them, there'd also be the problem of convincing them to actually help. They'd hadn't seemed too friendly, anyway. Besides, after 'Kyo's' comment, I'd be damned if I'd willingly ask them for help. I *do* have my pride, after all. But still... how would I find Mashi's base?... *clack* The pile of deflected darts below the multiply-transfixed dartboard abruptly collapsed at the added weight of another dart. Sighing in frustration, I slammed both hands onto my desk, accidentally slamming the bomb down with them. Then it caught my eye, and after a quick, disbelieving look, I laughed out loud, stood, and began to gather the darts. On the bomb, there was a small white label. It read: "Made by M. Ultra Manufacturing. Quality merchandise at low, low prices. Come visit our headquarters and manufacturing plant at 28 Bakemono Street!" ---- I have to admit, his headquarters was camouflaged rather well. Spanking clean machinery, gleaming storage tanks, flawlessly whitewashed walls, smooth concrete. Now if he had just noticed that all the other manufacturing plants around this area were dirty, worn, and most definitely *not* places where you could eat off the floor and survive, it might have been even better camouflaged. All in all, though, it was fairly easy to sneak in. Sure, there were guards and all, but when all 243 of them (121 in plain sight, 122 hidden) were watching anime inside the front guardhouse, it was extremely easy to climb over a wall. There were security cameras, but they were all pointing the wrong way. Namely, the front guardhouse. The guard dogs gave slightly more trouble. However, unlike the usual, average watchdog, these were not sleek, lethal bundles of fur and teeth. These, in fact, were pot-bellied excuses for Rottweilers. Their pitiful excuses for loud barks were met with a flurry of meat chunks (243 of them), and I simply walked off while they chowed down. Yup, all in all a rather successful penetration attempt. Not exactly the stuff that tales are told about, but successful nonetheless. ---- Once *inside* the building, though, things were a bit different. For one thing, the security cameras were actually pointing in the right direction. And only half the guards were watching anime. So I went for the time-honoured recourse of those who wish to pass undetected, the great cliché used by all intrepid spies, assasins, and/or saboteurs. The ventilation duct. It isn't *quite* like you see in the movies, though. For one thing, in the movies they always know exactly where they're going. Not so here. I was off track after two turns. I was disorientated at the next junction. I was completely lost about three tunnels later. I did have a nice chat with some of the other people I met crawling around, though. The female assassin was a bit startled when I told her that Mr. Furaka didn't own the building anymore, and the ronin was a bit of a surprise. The overendowed sorceress was a bit too much, I thought. But at least the naga managed to give me directions to Mashi's office, even if it was a bit difficult to follow the twisted and winding path he described. Following his directions, I managed to make some progress. Along the way, though, the sound of Mashi's voice booming out over a speaker caught my attention. Looking around, I found a grille that faced out into a smallish room, from which I could hear Mashi's voice saying... what?! Narrowing my eyes, I looked out through the grille -- to behold the sight of Haikite handing a fluorescent pink puppy to a nine-year old in a ridiculously abbreviated sailor suit, replete with epaulets, frilly things, and flashy fake jewellery. Said nine-year old was also carrying a ominously-humming ruby-tipped plastic wand. She was listening attentively to Mashi's exhortations: "..Pretty Marshal Rose, it is your duty to seek out and destroy the evil and corruption that rests at the heart of this city! Poppi will aid you in your quest as best he can." The pink puppy nodded, as much as a puppy can nod. "Go now, and be there whenever you are needed -- crush the darkness that threatens us all, and spare nothing to accomplish this!" Nodding enthusiastically (so much so I thought her head would fall off), the girl skipped out, wand gripped tightly and pink puppy bundled protectively against her chest. I looked on, still shocked, as Haikite closed the door behind her. After a moment, Mashi's voice rang out again, much softer this time. "Promising one, isn't she?" "Yes, she is, my lord." Haikite replied. "Almost as promising as Captain Kawaii was." I sucked in a sharp breath at this, but Haikite gave no sign that he had heard me. "Pity about her... but she was a bit too unstable. But she's not going to be any trouble now, so no worries about that." "Yes, sir." "Hmm... it's almost time to meet with the rest of the group. Meet me outside, Haikite." "Yes, sir." With that, he exited. I slumped back against the other wall of the ventilation duct, mind whirling with wonder at how easily we'd been maipulated by his pitiful act. The bastard was using us to get rid of one of his own operatives!.. And then he tried to make sure we wouldn't take out any more of his operatives that he still wanted.. This... was definitely something to think about. But first things first -- money, then gratuitous destruction. *Then* I think about this. ---- After another hour, I managed to find my way to Mashi's office. The entire place was heavily scented with one of those "luxury scents" -- it kind of reminded me of burning incense, actually. Not something I'd go for myself, but I suppose these people had strange tastes. I carefully pried off the ventilation grille -- then hurriedly pulled my hands (and the grille) back as a large bolt of energy sizzled across where my hands were. If I'd gone in immediately... given the size of that bolt (and it's strange resemblance to some of the energy flung around by your average pre-pubescent, miniskirted homicidal maniac), I'd say I would have been a pile of dust on the floor. Not a comforting thought. I pulled myself up against the grille, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever had fired that blast. I could barely make out some kind of rod attached to a motion sensor -- a very expensive one, too. It amazed me for a moment that someone who could afford all this would have such lousy security outside -- but then my thoughts returned to the matter at hand. Experimentally, I shook a dart free from my belt and carefully shoved it into the room through the grille, keeping my eye on the rod/motion sensor. The rod swivelled, homed in on the dart, and vapourized it, all in the space of three seconds. Oooookaaaayyy... I sighed. This was going to be harder than I thought. I continued to stare at the motion sensor, prepared to remain there for a very long time, for no reason whatsoever. Then something happened. I had an idea. It was not a good idea. It was, in fact, a very bad idea. Not bad as in "not-likely-to-work-bad", but bad as in "likely-to-get-you-killed-bad". Which was very, *very* bad. But there're these little things seem determined to kill me on every occasion. They're called "impulses". And on this occasion, an "impulse" led me to drop a dart down, then immediately push the grille *and myself* out into the room as the stick-like security system of doom moved to destroy the dart. Somehow I managed not to scream at the sudden, violent flash that heralded the demise of the first dart, and flung a second dart at the motion sensor just as the rod began tracking ME FAR TOO BLOODY FAST--- *thunk* I hit the hard, wooden (fine teak) surface of Mashi's desk hard, an oddly shaped paperweight digging painfully into my spine. I was bruised, out of breath, and about to have a heart attack from the adrenalin rush, but no flash of blinding energy filled my vision, no yummy light -- agh, that stupid song's still in my head! -- consumed my poor, vulnerable flesh. I was alive. Mentally, I was thrashing myself within an inch of my life for doing something that stupid. Sometimes changing occupations seems just so *very* attractive. Out of habit, I got up and pried the dart from the now-defunct motion sensor, thus saving myself the $1 expense of buying a new dart. Then I remembered just why I was here and began searching for Mashi's cash. As I rifled through his desk drawers, I couldn't help but notice the elaborate set-up by the door. Not only did it seem to have five different layers of identity verification systems on it, it was also stacked with some very lethal looking weaponry. Not to mention a bunch of stuff which looked very arcane and equally deadly. I opened the last drawer and came face to face with a very large sawed-off shotgun. He certainly had the security aspect covered, all right. On the desk itself, there was even a monitor displaying the feed from a surveillance camera immediately outside -- and "immediately outside", from the video feed, was a long, opulent hallway (though not as opulent as his office) with three guards, two at rigid attention, and one that looked half-asleep. The tail that was only partially hidden to the camera made it clear that the third guard wasn't exactly human, though. For a moment, I nearly missed it, but after seeing a slight movement in the walls, I realized that there were probably snipers behind the decorations and elaborate friezes that covered the walls. Finally, on the ceiling were what *looked* like electrical lights, but which, to me, were all too clearly the same rod/motion sensor set-ups that had nearly reduced me to a quivering dust pile. For a moment, I wondered just why the security in here was so tight when the outside security was lax enough that even the most bungling burglar could find his way through it. Then it came to me. The answer, I reflected as I made my way to the cabinets, was twofold. Firstly, anyone expecting the same close to non-existent security here would have met the same fate as my first two darts. Given the amount of dust on the carpet, that was more people than I would have first thought. Secondly, I had the distinct feeling that most of his own subordinates didn't really know what happened in this area. After all, how do you tell your employees that you're training the magical girls who make their jobs high-risk occupations?... In one cabinet close to the door, I found a whole rack of small, blue pills. For a moment, I wondered if Mashi was a drug addict, but the pills didn't seem to be any kind of drug I could identify -- besides, why have it by the door? Curiouser and curiouser... I opened the next cabinet, and Mashihaisha Ultra flopped at my feet. After recovering from my near heart attack, I realized that this was not, in fact, Mashihaisha Ultra. It was, rather, a suit of a huge, blue-skinned guy with four arms, three eyes, and no visible nose to speak of. Two of the arms had some kind of mechanical control in them -- presumably to allow movement of the faux arms. Apparently Mashi looked very different from what I thought. I quickly gathered up the entire costume and bundled in back into the cabinet with a heavy thump. The room must have been soundproofed, though, for no guards came charging in with likely highly-overpowered hardware, looking for blood. Even if they had, though, I wonder if I would have noticed, because the impact of the heavy suit caused a hidden panel to fall open, revealing a secret compartment with large stacks of cash. Sweeeeeet. It was right after I'd taken the fee owed to us (plus twice that for expenses, plus twice *that* for danger fees) that I noticed myself growing light-headed. I shook my head groggily for a moment, and stumbled towards the ventilation duct -- but I was getting dizzier with every step. I slapped myself, but it didn't seem to help -- and it was with growing horror that I realized that the scent in the room was no "luxury scent". A slow-acting, airborne narcotic vapour, doubtless counteracted by something else in the room -- probably the blue pills. Made to trap fools, and like a fool, I wandered in. I was already rapidly losing strength -- each steps seemed to take a mile -- and my thoughts were coming disjointedly -- damn, can't black out now.. -- a bit further -- that's it -- no, DON'T fall asleep, dammit -- grab the grille, fool -- slot -- move -- MOVE!.. -- ... -- ---- I came to some time later. Luckily, I awoke inside the ventilation duct, not in some torture chamber. I made it in there and pulled the grille after me before finally succumbing. Bully for me. Accountancy? Or maybe law? Nahh... Besides, I reminded myself, someone still has to do something about those "magical girls". All of a sudden, the sound of a huge explosion echoed down the tunnel. So, too, did the sound of an alarm and loud, upraised voices. Damn it. Guess I could forget the sabotage for today. Now how to get out?... ---- Luck was with me today. I actually chanced upon the exit. Albeit it was after about two nerve-wracking hours of crawling through tunnels and shrinking away from openings where the guards might see me. But still, you take what you can get. I was about to slide out the exit duct when I froze. I was hearing two voices I really did *not* want to hear. "Well, that should do it for a while. Until Captain Kawaii's replacement appears, Mashihaisha should be out of business." "Just like those magical girl hunters, eh?" I bristled at this, but did not move. "Ha ha ha. Very funny. You didn't see the way that fool was ogling me. I swear, I should have emasculated him then and there.." "What've *you* got to worry about? You're really a guy, after all, 'Mai'." "It's the principle of the thing! Besides, I doubt you'd be as forgiving if he'd been ogling *you*." "But I'm female, so that's fine. Besides, he obviously thought I was a guy. If he'd been ogling me I wouldn't be trying to flatten him, I'd just be getting far, far away." "Prejudiced bitch." "Hey! I'm just.... uncomfortable... with that kind of person. It doesn't mean they're any less people." "Then act like it, 'Kyo'." "...why are we still using our aliases out here? There's no one else around.." *thwap* "Because there might be someone we can't see, idiot!" "..I thought the female was supposed to be the violent one.." A pause. "Wait a minute... if there might be someone we can't see... why are we saying all this out here?" Dead silence. "Let's go." "I agree." After the two had left, I silently slid out of the duct, into the open air. I stood there for a while, staring at the ground. I could have sworn that if I listened carefully, I would have heard Wierd Al Yankovic singing, "Everything you know is wrong..." ...no matter. First things first. Money, done. Sabotage, done for me. Now it was time to settle the personal feud. As well as do something about Mashi's magical girl program. I silently headed back to the office, my feet sending soundless ripples through the puddles in the street.