When the first to dispute their new weapon was attacked with conventional weapons, most of the rest of the world realized that if it was a new weapon - it wasn't one that could be used again very easily. So the pendulum shifted again, and a balance was eventually found again.
For those living in the ruins of what had once been the United States, it didn't matter much what was going on outside.
Due to the images and horrors therein, and partly due to more typical behavior of large groups, there was the occasional foreign aid sent at the onset which had stopped arriving not too long after.
What was left of the United States was a vast ocean, a few islands, a good portion of the northern Pacific Coast, and the haunted lands. Mexico had reclaimed much of what had once been Southern California, at least the parts that hadn't subsided or been wiped out in the earthquakes, but even that was largely abandoned.
There were fortresses being built by foreign governments. A combination research lab and military fortification. Nobody was quite sure what had caused the Impact, but the ghostly images and mutated creatures were sufficiently concerning that those who could afford the effort joined forces to do so.
Those living in the area lived in the shadows of those fortresses, and they lived with strange events and happenings. They lived, unable to move to somewhere else, refugees shunned by those far from the center of the disaster.
There were monsters. Shambling things of dead flesh. Pale things from under the sea. Twisted and unnatural things that only bore a vague resemblance to the creature it had once been. Things that were known by a number of different names but all collectively having an apparent thirst for human blood and flesh.
There were those who wandered the lands and slew monsters for a living. Pieces of monsters brought back to the fortresses were exchanged for money, which could be used to buy (at inflated prices of course) food and equipment. For those capable of doing the job, it was a living in a land that had meager remaining resources.
"You're too young to come in here, beat it kid," said the bartender.
"Let him in," said a gravelly voice from a nearby table.
The bartender glanced that way. "Boss? Kid ain't that old."
The boss waved away the objection. "That there is Ranma Saotome."
The bartender held his hands up and backed away from the kid. "Hey, no hard feelin's. Just doin' me job."
The youth nodded once, not showing any apparent emotion. He merely went to the table and flopped down into the chair.
After a tense silence of a few minutes, the bar owner downed his drink and set the glass down. "Okay. Business. Heard you were in town. Youngest monster hunter in the business."
Ranma shrugged.
"Can I see your ident?" asked the bar owner. "Just to confirm?"
Ranma held out the little plastic card as if it had been in his hand all this time.
Name: Ranma Saotome
Class: D Registry: Fort Himeji, Idaho
There was more, but this card was sufficient indication with the little holographic 'baku' symbol of Fort Himeji on the lower left corner of the ID card. The bar owner looked it over, nodded, and handed it back. "Fort Himeji's a ways off. That's the Japanese outpost, ain't it?"
Ranma nodded once as he took the card back.
"Not everything got wiped out in Impact or the weeks afterward, heard there's still a fair amount of civilization up there," said the bar owner.
Ranma looked at the bar owner and spoke finally. "Two hundred miles around the Gap, you still get monsters and nightmares. True up North as well as down here."
The bar owner nodded, convinced from what he was seeing and hearing - this was a real monster hunter. Not like some who took the payment and vanished as quickly as they could - swindlers out to take advantage of other people's reputations. "Yeah, I heard it's bad up there too. Reason I put out that message, we got what they call a kuei."
Ranma shifted slightly, the bored-relaxed body language put aside as he gave more attention to this.
"Kuei up North, ghouls down here. Same critter, different names," said the bar owner. "Name's Tallman. Joshua Tallman. I own the bar, the inn, and half the town besides. Need someone to get rid of it, heard you can do it."
Ranma nodded again. "Pay?"
"Heard you'd do it for free, sometimes," said Tallman.
"Gotta eat. Replace ammo. Get supplies." Ranma's gaze was cold.
"Got food, got ammo, got supplies," said Tallman. "It's credits I'm short of. With the kuei hitting the trails, trade's been off. I heard about you and this other hunter, and maybe the other can do the job if you can't."
Ranma shrugged.
"So how would you be able to kill a kuei? I already tried hired guns," said Tallman. "Undead ain't easy to put to rest."
Ranma considered briefly before shrugging again. "This."
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(Posted Fri, 09 Dec 2005 07:22)
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