For a while, it looked like the operation would proceed with a minimum of difficulty; Llobewu had been successfully teleported into the theater without any one noticing as the audience was focused on the screen — now all they had to do wait for him to attack. This turned out to take longer than expected; nearly a third of the movie’s run time passed by before they sent someone in to check on the monster (or “Captain Stupid,” as the squad had taken to calling him). It was then that one of the ninjamarketers noticed Hikaru Gosunkugi, Anthracite’s first silo, sitting on the opposite side of the theater from Naru Osaka, the potential second silo — not good, since the plan was for Gosunkugi to be anywhere in Juuban but here. This was reported back to the squad’s commander.
Check was not pleased at this news. Great, just great. What else can go wrong?
“Hey! What’re ya doin’?!”
I had to ask. Check looked up and saw a Japanese man in Chinese garb running towards him. He put his hand on his temple. “Just what I need… more problems,” the stressed-out ninjamarketer muttered to himself. “You there,” he spoke to a nearby youma.
“Sir?”
“Take care of this guy — I’ve got other things to deal with.”
“Yes, sir.” As the youma got ready to fight the pigtailed martial artist who’d stuck his nose in where it wasn’t wanted, Check and the rest of his squad headed for the Royale to extricate the silos (if necessary).
Ranma would have gone after the guy who was obviously in charge, but the one who stayed behind prevented that from happening.
“If you don’t want to leave this alley in a body bag, I suggest you leave.”
Ranma snorted in response — he didn’t have time for this. “Bring it on, chump.”
In the theater, Akane nearly jumped out of her seat as the “danger sense” her years of martial arts training gave her suddenly activated — though it was relatively mild.
“Is the movie really that scary?” her date asked her. Gosunkugi didn’t think anything could scare Akane.
“Uh, no,” Akane replied as she looked around… nothing seemed out of the ordinary (with the possible exception of the guy covered in glowsticks in the back) so she figured it must have been a false alarm.
Ranma had been battling his opponent for nearly five minutes, and he was getting nowhere. In fact, the only thing he was getting at the moment was tired — and unfortunately for him, the same could not be said for his opponent. Eventually, though, he managed to land a solid kick to the sternum, sending the ninja flying into a brick wall.
“You’re good — I’ll give you that,” the ninja said to the martial artist with an audible smirk as he quickly regained his composure. “Clearly, to attempt to defeat you by orthodox means would be difficult, perhaps even impossible. Unfortunately for you, however, I have no problem ignoring orthodoxy.”
Ranma didn’t really have time to analyze vague threats; he had to press what little advantage he might have gained. He charged towards his opponent, intending to feint and weave as he got close so that he could execute some well-placed punches and kicks — but he never got there, as his opponent sent Ranma slamming into a brick wall with just a wave of his hand.
Hotaru and Chibi-Usa were finally getting the chance to catch up, which was a very good thing to the mind of the dark-haired girl. Granted, she was a bit chagrined that even her best friend was taller than she was now, but that was hardly important — she was just happy that Chibi-Usa didn’t have to endure the insensitive teasing about her height anymore. Of course, she would have preferred it if the pink-haired princess hadn’t been so adamant about not revealing any information about any growth spurts she might undergo in the future, but that was a minor detail. Setsuna was sitting nearby with her sketchbook, drawing rough pictures of potential new designs for her fashion line, when suddenly, her pencil dropped.
“Is something wrong, Setsuna-mama?”
The empathic link Setsuna had with her husband may not have had the ‘silent alarm’ setup that existed between Mamoru and Usagi, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t tell when Ranma was in trouble. After all, when a person recognizes that he or she is in danger, their brain will usually release several hormones intended alter a person’s mood in such a way that he or she will be more likely to make decisions that will remove themselves from that danger. And right now, the Guardian of Time was picking up a very distinct emotion from her beloved: fear.
“I… I think that might be the case, Hotaru.” Setsuna’s eyes grew wider as Ranma’s fear suddenly morphed into full-blown panic — this all but proved Ranma was in trouble, because there was almost nothing that could make him forget his years of training that would make him descend into a state of panic. Except… the Neko-ken!
“Actually, I believe Ranma may be in trouble…”
“Should I call the others?”
Setsuna was getting worried, but she managed to remain clam enough to make her decision: “Not yet — though I think you should stay alert in case I need your help. If anyone asks, I’ll be in the area around the Crown Arcade.” The green-haired Time Guardian then hastily teleported away.
From her spot on the sofa, Chibi-Usa couldn’t resist a small smile. Here we go….
Back in the theater, Check discovered the reason that there hadn’t been any chaos yet.
“What are you doing?” Check hissed to the uncooperative youma.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m watching the movie.” Llobewu shoved another handful of popcorn into his mouth.
“You aren’t here to watch a movie! You’re here to do your job,” the ninjamarketing commander angrily whispered.
“But it’s just getting to the good part,” Llobewu whined.
Check rolled his eyes in frustration. Obviously, when his second-in-command claimed that he was forced to go AWOL to keep from jeopardizing the mission, he hadn’t been kidding. “Look, if you pull this off, you can watch this movie as many times as you want back in the Negaverse.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.”
“Awesome!”
“So you’ll do your job?”
“You bet,” Llobewu nodded. “But you’d better stand back, or you might be blinded by my awesomeness.”
“Good. Now move it.” He slinked away from the youma, signaling the members of his team that were currently disguised as human ushers to get ready to protect the silos.
Back at Hypercorp Tower, Anthracite was relaxing and getting ready to make his pitch to his new silo later that evening. “Donna e mobile qual piuma al vento…” Unfortunately, his lip-synching to Luciano Pavarotti was interrupted by a buzz from his intercom.
The former Dark General hit the stop button on his .mp3 player to respond. “What is it, Miki?”
“Sir, Llobewu has begun his operation,” his demonic secretary responded.
“Thank you, Miki,” Anthracite replied. He was about to return to his classical music, when Miki buzzed him again.
“Sir, there’s more to it than that: Check also reports that Hikaru Gosunkugi is in the theater with Llobewu and Naru Osaka.”
“What?!”
“Check reports that Hikaru Gosunkugi——”
“Miki, what I have I told you about answering rhetorical questions?”
“Um, don’t do it when you’re in a foul mood?”
“That’s right.”
“I take it that this news has put you in a foul mood, then?”
“Very much so.”
The last 48 hours had not been kind to Ranma’s self confidence. Yesterday, Ryoga had pulled out that new move of his and he had had to resort to exploiting his friend/rival’s shyness to pull off the victory, and now he was getting his ass kicked by a upstart ninja who was somehow managing to fling him around a small alley without using any ki.
“So, you had enough yet, kid?” It didn’t help that the ninja had an incredibly smug attitude, either.
Ranma did his best to put on a brave face, but he knew he was in trouble. He couldn’t seem to get close enough to this guy to do any damage, and his fighting instincts told him that this guy was not only capable of killing him, but that he probably wouldn’t even think very much of it. Ranma would have answered the ninja’s question, were it not for the fireball that suddenly materialized in the ninja’s hand.
“Say your prayers, kid,” the ninja sneered as he threw the fireball at Ranma, who barely dodged it, getting his clothes singed in the process.
Shit! What else is this guy gonna do?
Llobewu went over the his plan of action in his head. First, he needed to cause a panic. Well, that was easy. Llobewu simply stood up to his full height, increased the glowing of the green part of his skin, and let loose his battle cry: “Any of you fucking pricks move, and I'll execute every motherfucking last one of ya!” And while Llobewu may not have been the most skilled youma around, at least he managed to get this part of a standard youma attack right, as it did indeed result in much panic and confusion.
“Okay, let’s see here… eeny, meeny, miney… moe!” Llobewu’s finger stopped on a panic-stricken redhead. He marched over to the girl and picked her up. “Okay… I’m supposed to crack your skull open — no, wait, that’s not right…. I’m supposed to look at your mind for the Orb of Something-or-Other. Uh….” Llobewu didn’t want to admit it, but he had no clue what Anthracite had meant by “looking into someone’s mind.” He decided to try the direct approach. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any magical orbs in your head, would you?”
Rather than responding, Naru fainted in his arms.
“I’ll take that as a ‘maybe,’ then.”
One of the disguised ninjamarketers reported the situation used an ear radio-like device to inform Check of the situation. “Command, Captain Stupid has come into contact with the target — please advise. Over.”
“Is he going to hurt her? Over.”
“I don’t think so, sir. Over.”
“Then hold back — no need to give ourselves away unless we have to. Over.”
“Roger that.”
Due to the panic that resulted from the presence of another youma, Usagi became separated from Naru. While this was not exactly a good thing, it did make it easier to find an out-of-the-way spot to transform into Sailor Moon. The Pretty Soldier then headed back into the theater, where she saw her friend in the clutches of the nasty-looking black-and-green youma.
Under ordinary circumstances, Sailor Moon would have made a speech about love, justice, and/or ethics that reinforced her personal moral code (which was, for the most part, shared by much of the rest of the human population). Such speeches also contributed to her image as an upright citizen of the world, and a good role model for young girls. However, this was most decidedly not an ordinary circumstance — this was the premiere of a movie in Samuel L. Jackson’s “Deadly Animal on a Mode of Transportation” series, and therefore, Usagi found herself caught up in the general atmosphere that can only be created by a deliberately campy horror movie, which explained Sailor Moon’s rather unconventional Speech of Condemnation™: “Enough is enough! I have had it with these motherfucking youma in this motherfucking theater!”
Mamoru Chiba’s link with his beloved was extremely sensitive; whenever there was a chance, no matter how slight, of Usagi getting seriously hurt, he knew it immediately, and he generally stopped whatever it was he was doing in order to transform into Tuxedo Kamen so he could provide appropriate assistance to her. Thus, at this moment when his beloved was about to once again enter into the heat of combat, Mamoru felt… absolutely nothing.
He paused to turn a page in his advanced calculus textbook, and continued with his studying.
Ranma was in real trouble now — he had been getting tired anyway, and it was only a matter of time before he wouldn’t be able to dodge the strange energy blasts that his opponent kept throwing his way. When one finally did reach its mark, it was a doozy, leaving the martial artist slumped against a brick wall. The impact had to have broken several ribs, and likely as not his left leg was broken as well. Ranma’s landing hadn’t been good either — when he slammed into the wall, he’d dislocated his right shoulder and torn one of the tendons in his neck.
He looked up to see the ninja standing over him. Though his mouth was covered, Ranma knew this guy was grinning from ear to ear.
“Looks like it’s time to finish you off…”
Ranma couldn’t help but note the irony: just yesterday, he literally thought he was going to be immortal, and now he was going to die in a back alley — and he didn’t even know what this guy was using to kill him. He closed his eyes and prayed that Setsuna would be alright without—
“Hold it right there!”
Setsuna? Ranma thought.
His suspicion was unwittingly confirmed by his assailant: “Fuck! A Senshi!”
The last thing Ranma heard before passing out was his wife’s voice shouting, “Dead Scream!”
Sailor Moon probably could have dusted off her foe right away — it hadn’t taken her very long to realize that this youma’s threats had little more than braggadocio to back them up — but she was angry, and had to let off some steam (besides, she didn’t want to cause any excess property damage to her favorite movie theater. And while Llobewu did have some reasonably good magic skills, for some reason, the bitch in the seifuku wouldn’t stop long enough to let him pull off his moves in an appropriately awesome manner. (After all, what’s the point of even having moves if you can’t use them to impress the ladies?) Thus, for the next five minutes, Llobewu became her personal punching bag as she maneuvered the witless demon to the rear exit of the theater. After opening the door, she kicked him outside into an empty parking lot. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself, you scumbag?”
“No fair,” Llobewu whined weakly. “You’re just a stupid girl! Why aren’t you cowering at my awesomeness…?”
Sailor Moon was shocked by this statement — so much so that she dropped her battle stance. “Are you serious? I’ve been doing this for more than three years, and you actually thought that you could faze me by just looking scary? God, you’re an idiot.”
“No, I’m not… you just aren’t playing fair….”
“You’re right — if I wanted to put myself on a level playing field with you, I probably wouldn’t have transformed in the first place.”
“But—”
“Shut up. You are, without a doubt, the stupidest, lamest, most incompent, and most pitiful excuse for a monster I’ve ever had the dishonor of facing in my entire career as a superhero. I don’t see why I should have to waste any more of my time dealing with you.”
“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you suck harder than a prostitute drinking a milkshake, that’s what. Moon spiral heart attack.”
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(Posted Wed, 29 Nov 2006 00:21)
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