The first barrage of lobsters had fallen short, and while they battled valiantly to reach their intended landing zone the airmobile crustaceans were not equal to the more agile Wabbits even in one-to-one engagements – and they were very seriously outnumbered. Then the glowing cat-girl stormed thought their midst, and while they were less seriously outnumbered most of them were also broiled.
The follow-up barrage of pineapples had overshot, detonating in bursts of juice and fruit salad over the heads of Ichiro’s team. Grimly, he came to a decision.
That was a direct attack on his team. This meant war.
The Forst Miores was a quiet and peaceful place; the birds sang in the trees, small animals played among the roots, and foxes sneaked furtively through the undergrowth looking for rabbits... actually, that’s not quite true. A fox sneaked furtively through the undergrowth watching for Wabbits. It was possibly the most cunning fox ever born, it was the only fox that remained in the entire Forst, and it never, ever tried hunting Wabbits. The small animals in the roots also watched out for Wabbits, and the only reason the birds in the trees didn’t keep watch for Wabbits was that the carnivorous bunnies had never figured out how to climb trees.
A rustling in the foliage attracted the attention of all these creatures; even the birds fell silent for a brief moment.
Recognition was quick (those that couldn’t manage quick recognition – died. Evolution really works, you know). A horde of Wabbits was on the advance. Small animals dived for their burrows. Squirrels deserted the ground in favour of the branches, considerations of territory and ‘my tree’ abandoned for immediate safety. Reynard darted from his meagre cover, hoping to reach the covered and camouflaged scrape that was his nearest refuge.
An Earth botanist, observing the advance, would have drawn parallels with the ravening march of the army ants, scouring the rainforest floors of Earth in search of anything edible, and might well have chosen a suitable spot to take close records of the horde as it passed. A Jaden adventurer, observing the advance, would have had the much better idea of getting the hell out of there. Wabbits, for all their cute antecedents, are perfectly happy to take on heavily-armed warriors, much less botanists equipped with nothing more dangerous than a camera.
The lead Wabbits of the horde often stopped as they encountered something interesting. Most often this was some hapless creature that hadn’t managed to reach safety and never would, and generally some new Wabbit would take the lead as the one that paused savoured its lunch. Now, a commotion arose on the flank of the advance, and several Wabbits inspected the ground. Consensus was reached, and the advance changed direction.
The fox, two hundred metres ahead, heard the sounds behind him change, and redoubled his speed. The Wabbits were on his tail.
The Wabbits lolloped gleefully along the forest trails, the scent of not-Wabbit in their noses and bloodlust in their hearts. Not that the latter was much of a surprise. In no time at all, the flicker of red fur through the undergrowth was spotted, and the cooperative hunt degenerated into a headlong mutual charge for the running meat.
Reynard knew he was in trouble. The Wabbits were too close, they’d probably rip apart his scrape even if he did make it to cover before they reached him, and he wasn’t sure he could reach the entry before the first reached his tail. He scanned the woods for an alternative hideaway, anything big enough to turn at bay in and at least stop them from swinging the weapontails.
The Wabbits poured on the speed as the black tip to dinner’s tail came into view.
There! He didn’t know what it was, but a faint glow filtered through the underbrush with the sound of other creatures. Perhaps if there were many animals there, the Wabbits would be distracted from his tail. If nothing else, there was no space there for them to come at him en mass; he could kill more of them if they came one at a time. He shoved his muzzle though the covering of shredded leaves, pushed aside the yielding walls of whatever it was, and fell onto a stone floor in a vast cavern.
The Wabbits slowed. The tempting tail of their meal had vanished. Slowly, the horde closed up, and circled. They would find where the not-Wabbit had gone, and then they would pile on it and shred it for putting them to this much work catching it. Not that they wouldn’t have shredded it anyway, but now they had a reason.
The fox darted out of the cavern by the other entry – it was too big for him to defend – and searched through the network of caves. He still wanted somewhere to hide, somewhere to lay up while he recovered from that escape, but essentially somewhere he could defend from the Wabbits! Suddenly, he saw a figure at the end of the tunnel. It was a tall figure, on two legs only and with really strange fur; but he recognised it. It was an ‘adventurer’; slipping closer, he saw it was better than that: it was the special, curvy sort of adventurer that could fight Wabbits, even defeat the Alpha Wabbit! He made a decision: he’d hide behind the adventurer, and let her fight the Wabbits.
The Monkeys stood their ground in the face of the headlong charge, and the Principal was proud of his troops.
Actually, he didn’t have time for that, and the monkeys didn’t have time to bolt either. Ranma, a new but panicked werecheetah, set a new personal best speed as he charged the wall of simians, Ukyo’s clothes fluttering in a high-pitched buzz as she clung to his back.
Monkeys flew as he barrelled through their battle-line, and then he swerved to avoid the school building and trampled through a cluster of Wabbits dogpiling something against the wall. Akane cut the corner in her pursuit, and just barely managed to keep the gap from opening, shoving one monkey into a reserve lobster as she went.
The Principal recovered from the shocking assault, and ordered a change in targeting. The artillery sergeant-monkey chattered and hooted, and the palmtrees sprionged. The mixed salvo of lobsters and pineapples hurtled towards the running cat.
The Principal’s troops had never practiced against a moving target. Whamcrunch whishcrunch. Akane roared her displeasure as the pineapples detonated over her head, and once again curved in pursuit of her fiancé as he headed towards the school gates.
Ranma, on the other hand, had realised something; he was fast enough in this form, even with Ukyo on his back, to stay ahead of Akane so long as she didn’t start thinking to pin him down in some corner of the wall. She seemed too angry to do that just now, and letting her run off her fury without hurting him was a good thing in his book. Second, she could be lead into the midst of the hordes of little fighting creatures, and would smash them in passing without even thinking about it. And smashing the little creatures was also a good thing.
And running was fun! Snatching up a Wabbit in passing and chomping firmly, he swung his head to wave his new flail in front of himself and dodged around the Kendo club.
“Tendo Akane! Come take shelter in our protective circle and we shall defend thee with ouch!”
Nabiki, observing from the roof, winced, and leaned over to call down to her lackeys. “How does that affect the scores, Sachiko?”
“Utter mess, Boss,” was the reply. “Give us a minute to revise it all? Although we do actually have a bet on Ranma eating one of the Kendo club...”
“Long odds?”
“Very, boss. I didn’t want to touch it, honestly.”
| Furinkan High | Carnivorous Rabbits | |||||
| Kendo Club | Ranma | Akane | Ukyo | The Principal & Hawaiian Forces | ||
| Kendo Club | - | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 1 |
| Ranma | 0 | - | 0 | 0 | 2 | 73 |
| Akane | 2 | 0 | - | 0 | 5 | 59 |
| Ukyo | 0 | 0 | 0 | - | 0 | 21 |
| Principal etc | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 1 | 5 |
| C. Rabbits | 14 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 7 | - |
The first Wabbit stapled to the wall snarled at the monkey. The monkey didn’t respond, being impaled on the back of the Wabbit’s battleaxe.
Ninomiya-sensei stalked into the classroom, and the students stood and bowed in the approved manner. She nodded to return their greeting, and set a plushie on her desk.
The students wondered. It wasn’t that unusual for her to arrive in adult form (and was, by the male students, much appreciated, so long as she didn’t drain them to do it). It wasn’t that unusual for her to bring in toys, and a rabbit plushie was well within the bounds of ‘cute enough’ for her preteen mentality.
But why had she tied a glaive head to it?
None of them noticed the fox that sneaked in after her, and hid under the desk.
The Wabbits congregated. Every few seconds another dropped through the portal, those already present moving aside and exploring their first outpost in this new place.
One or two nibbled at the piece of parchment at the entryway, but after it bit back they abandoned it.
Unlike the first waves, these Wabbits had no screaming figure in a rumpled school uniform to follow out of the bell tower, and no driving urge to find and disembowel a shorthaired tomboy. They had to find their own way out, and find their own targets – not counting the fox that led them there, of course. Some gathered near the window, seeing movement far below. Some ventured from the door into the hallway, hearing voices from the classrooms nearby.
DONG dong dong DONG dong dong DO
A more vicious than normal Wabbit leapt at the source of the noise, flailing his khopesh like a propeller.
“Hahahah! You all tardy kine! You be cleaning the toilets, yeah!”
Crash bang bang DOINGoingoing
Ranma flattened himself to the ground briefly as the shrapnel flicked past, skidding into a cluster of Wabbits – some of which he ploughed upward into the path of fragments of bell. He felt no remorse for the destruction of the clock; its relentless progress had spoiled his days and many a much-needed nap at his desk.
“Eeek! Ranchan, Akane got hit!”
Ranma reversed direction sharply and darted back to the furious fiancée in his wake.
Akane was standing there, wiping the smear of blood from her face dazedly. She felt a swirl of wind at her knees, and looked down. Ranma looked back reproachfully, the Wabbits about to attack her hanging by their tails in his mouth.
“What are you looking at, baka?” asked the suddenly calm Akane. Recovering from half a kilo of bell in the face will do that.
He shook his head vigorously, and spat out the tangled mess of Wabbits impaled on each other’s weapons. “Bragh Groo.”
“I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“Help! Ranchan!”
“You left Ukyo to herself, you baka!”
The werecheetahs ran back towards the buildings, to where Ukyo was defending three metres of the wall from a circle of Wabbits, armed with one of her small spatulas (the big one was lying where she dropped it on seeing the Principal) and an attack lobster (she didn’t know why it attacked her, but it made a good club against the Wabbits). Carnage ensued as the cat people set upon the armed rodents from behind.
Ichiro and his men advanced in line abreast, uncapped markers in hand and clipboards tucked under their arms with parade ground precision. Steel-toed boots had already sent two Wabbits and a lobster flying back into the fray and the clipboards showed evidence of their use as shields against two barrages of pineapples. None of his men had fallen.
The Principal grit his teeth and muttered under his breath. Sergeant-monkeys glanced at each other in concern – had the commander found his marbles? They were down to two loads of pineapples, the chemical-weapons cocoanuts, and the last reserve of the airmobile lobsters, but if he didn’t order them to fire soon, the invaders would be inside the minimum range of the artillery palms and they would be down to hand-to-shears fighting.
An order was mangled into Hawaiian, and the palms were loaded once more; a mixed loadout of pineapples and cocoanuts, to be followed immediately by the airmobile reserve. A third salvo, of pineapples only, was to be held until further orders.
Ichiro ordered “clipboards up!” as the palms sprang up, and the storm of badly aimed projectiles once more rained upon the Inspection Team. The pineapples were well remembered, bursting with sticky juices and fruity chunks all over their suits, but the darker missiles were new, and the first of the team took injury as the shaving cream was splattered over his coat. Then the attack lobsters fell, and combat began.
At the scoreboard, confusion reigned. Who were these dark-suited men and women? Why were they here? And what affiliation did they have? Sachiko, on the strength of having spoken to Nabiki on the roof since the battle began, took command; a shouted suggestion from across the room was digested, and the scoreboard adjusted once more.
| Furinkan High | Carnivorous Rabbits | Men in Black | |||||
| Kendo Club | Ranma | Akane | Ukyo | The Principal & Hawaiian Forces | |||
| Kuno Club | - | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 1 | 0 |
| Ranma | 0 | - | 0 | 0 | 11 | 89 | 0 |
| Akane | 2 | 0 | - | 0 | 12 | 74 | 0 |
| Ukyo | 0 | 0 | 0 | - | 2 | 30 | 0 |
| Principal etc | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 1 | 6 | 1 |
| C. Rabbits | 17 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 11 | - | 0 |
| MiB | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 1 | 2 | - |
The lobster was dizzy, and wanted to go back to the sea. Above all, it wanted this stupid human to stop hitting the Wabbits with it!
“Ah! I got a live one! I got a live one!”
“All right, don’t panic!” snapped Nabiki. “Just cut the line and let the others deal with it.”
“I don’t have a spare heavyweight line, and the lightweight won’t take the strain,” objected the Fly Fisher.
“Haul it up,” suggested the Hunter. “Just don’t let it get too close to the wall.” He brandished a fur-hilted scimitar meaningfully.
The Principal laughed. The invaders had advanced too far – there was no way for them to escape! Once he triggered the booby traps, the pits of his elite Robber Crab troops would prevent them from leaving, and the shaving cream mines would ensure they were properly prepared for the assault of the infantry monkeys.
He grabbed the trigger lever, and pulled it.
Then he pushed it.
Then, for effect, he stirred it like he was mixing pudding.
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(Posted Wed, 09 Aug 2006 15:37)
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