Well, the following is the first draft of the 'prequel' or 
introduction to a fanfic I've been thinking about for some time.

Although it does have a RealWorld-protagonist as part of the
storyline, I am/have/will be trying very hard NOT to make it an
Otaku-fic, i.e. no godlike powers, wisdom, etc...

And I do have a reason (fairly vital to the plot) of requiring
the insertion of a character not from the main universe who has
certain information (which is why a crossover character wouldnt have
been too easy for me to fit in)

It will involve the Ah! Megamisama universe, and a few others..:)
Although its rather darker than the usual fic's set in AMS - no
fluffy bunnies here, unless they are roadkill!!
(er, the revengefic thing isn't still running, is it...???)

NO Ranma, NO Sailor Moon...!

It MAY have rollerblading wombats, but that depends how nice kun-chan
is... :)

Anyway, this is the first thing I've written, so I'd
VERY much appreciate comments, mail, flames, whatever on this..!

All the various characters are copyright of their respective
creators, etc. etc. as usual.

David Row
(Ecchi, and still scratching...)
davidrow.ryoohki@pop3.hiway.co.uk
Treasurer of the SSMU (Send the Sailor Moon cast to Urotsukidoji)
fan fund. 


The Ragnarok Agenda

Part 1 - Prequel, or How can it hurt you, it's only a dream...

It was a dark and stormy night...

Well, actually, it wasn't. Stormy, that is. It WAS dark, but then it
does have a tendency to get that way at night, and no-one but some
seriously paranoid individuals consider this to have any special
esoteric or specially significant message.

Scene : 
A bedroom. In the middle of it, a man sleeps in a double bed...
Not very well, judging by the way he keeps tossing and turning, and the
disheveled state of the bedclothes gripped tightly in his clenched 
fists. The only sounds are the muffled ticking of a clock and the
occasional low moan coming from the body in the bed.
It is dark, and the only illumination comes from the tossing shadows
thrown onto the curtains by the streetlight outside, a faint orange
flickering...

Inside the man's head, however, things aren't quite as normal...


Mmmm, odd sort of dream... why isn't it in colour, I ALWAYS dream in
colour... cheap low-budget dreams, probably got an Art grant or
something... all flashy effects and no decent FX...
Pretty desolate, too. All this grass, not even any trees...or animals.
Or people. Just me. And its bloody cold... and that odd music... 
a flute? Here?? 


He shrugs, ignoring the inconsistancies, tuning them out of his 
consciousness, wandering forward, not really aiming to go anywhere, 
after all this is just a dream, right? Feeling the cold brittle grass
under his feet slowly die away, as the landscape changes (in that fuzzy, 
not-really-noticed-till-it-does-it way it tends to in dreams), until he
is staring at a vista rather less benign.

A city. Well, an area that probably was once a city, before something 
happenned to it...

Clouds roil turgid and black above a landscape that consists mainly of
destroyed buildings, their skeletal remains poking up above the general
devastation like random rotting teeth in steel and concrete,  lit badly
by the flickering glows of a few firas. 
Nothing moves, and the air has a dead feel to it. The only sound the 
thin whistle of a bitingly cold wind. 
Underfoot, the ground occasionally trembles, as if it would do more but
is afraid to draw too much attention to itself...


Hey, havn't seen so much rubble since we went to see Independence Day
... looks rather like it, too, looks like someone nuked the place...
no, only a few small firas, so I wonder how they caused all this 
destruction... nice effects... don't try this one at home, kids, we're
trained mad scientists!
Pity its so bloody cold... It looks odd, though, I dont think I ever 
saw colour effects quite like this - it isnt monochrome, there are 
sort of some colours, but the look all washed out...how weird...oh 
well, its a dream, right? My dreams never make sense, so why worry 
about it...?


He wanders forward, never really noticing how he moves, or how fast, 
the scene shifting and flicking without really changing, until he comes
to a more open space. Now, at last, he can hear something other that
the low, desolate howling of the wind. Or maybe its just that he 
notices, now.

Before him is was what once a fairly large building, judging by the 
amount of space the rubble of it now occupias. Not a tall building, it
cant have been more that a few stories high. The faint sounds of 
people moaning seem to come from somewhere - maybe the building, he 
can't tell - and finally he can see signs of life.

Spread, no scattered around the ground are a number of bodies - well,
the extra pieces should add up to a fair number. And quite a lot of 
blood. More than a few of the bodies aren't human, by any stretch of 
the imagination. Large, brutal, and ugly is the best way to describe 
them, as well as armed to the teeth - well, fangs, but lets not be too
picky here...

There is one - person - however, who seems to be fine. Standing 
arrogant atop a mound of rubble, his stance one of arrogant possession,
king of this domain of devastation.


Oh my... I wonder what hapenned here? And what IS that man doing? 
Don't I get to see all the fight first? How boring. I wonder what those
creatures are supposed to be? I wish that wind would stop that bloody
howling, it sounds like a wolf with a toothache...

And some of those bodies look - familiar? I...can't place them...Who 
do I know who's a dark-skinned girl with long silver hair...And GREEN 
blood from those monsters? How predictable... I'm going to have to have
some serious words with my subconscious about the programming of this
dream...


Shrugging mentally a little, he allows the vagueness of the dreamstate
to allow him to ignore the unease that he dosn't seem to be able to 
put a name against some of the motionless bodies, even though he's 
quite sure he recognises some of them.

He watches, feeling a growing sense of...not panic, exactly...maybe 
concern? It feels odd, he can't quite place his finger on it...it's as
if this scene concerns him a lot, but somehow he cant get involved, or
affect it...and that itself is starting to worry him more and more.

Shivering, he starts to examine the standing figure, who isn't looking
in his direction as he stares balefuly and arrogantly over the scene 
as if it were his personal property. Somehow, he feels he dosn't want 
to attract more of his attention to himself, even if this IS only a 
dream!

The figure is a man...well, male. Mind, he dosn't know many men who are
the best part of 7 foot tall. That wouldn't be so bad, but the feeling
of menace that the figure seems almost to exude is frightening. No, 
lets be honest here, terrifying. Worse than that, though, is the almost
palpable feeling that the man is stark raving mad. Something about the
way he stands, or maybe the barely-suppressed bubbling laughter. Its
not really something you can put into words, but somehow the way he 
stands, the pose, reminds him of those old newsreels of Hitler at the 
peak of his crowd-mesmerising peak... a horrifying blend of power,
evil and barely-in-check insanity.

One of the female bodies lying amidst the devastation moans, pushing 
up with one bloody hand as she tries to rise to her knees, her long
hair tossing in the cold wind, as she tries to face the man. He looks
at her, a smile of pleasure crossing his face, as he raises his left 
hand to her, then clenches his fist, in a slow, almost sensual manner.
With a crackling roar, wildfira bursts up from the ruined pavement upon
which the girl stands, enveloping her now-writhing figure in a tossing, 
crackling tower of flame, her outline barely visible within it as she 
screams, a high, shrieking wail ripped from her throat until the flames
die to reveal little more than some scraps of carbonised bone among 
greasy ashes...

Tossing back his head, the man laughs...almost cheerfully, as if he's 
just witnessed something greatly amusing - that in itself being even
more chilling to the watcher than the scene he has just observed.


This isn't getting to be fun anymore... Just what IS that guy up to?
He definitely seems to be a few bricks short of a full load, upstairs.
.. Maybe I should leave before he notices me...?


He attempts to move backward, to get away from the terrifying figure 
in front of him, but his feet can't move...in fact, he dosn't seem to 
be able to move, or speak, or anything. He stands there, straining, 
trying to move, to do something, anything - to no avail.

Slowly, with the solid, inescapable certainty of a glacier, the man 
turns, until he is staring him straight in the face. If it wasn't for 
those eyes, he might even be able to see what he looks like. But those
glaring, hate-filled, eyes dominate everything, staring at him, 
seeming to drive an icepick into his brain. He tries again to move, 
desperate now, only wanting to get away, but he seems immersed in jelly...

The man starts to smile. Not a pleasant smile, more like a starving 
shark that's just seen a helpless swimmer appear on his lunchplate. 
The terrible, staring eyes start to glow with a baleful wildfira, as 
if small flames were flickering in the depths of them, growing 
stronger, fiercer, devouring. Making one final, frantic effort, he 
tries to hurl himself backwards, just as the figure starts to laugh 
again, a manic, shivering wolf-howl of anticipation and terror...


With a sudden gasp, he sits up in his bed, heat hammering, cold sweat
running down him, as he pants...

"Oh god... it was only a dream. Ugh, more like only a nightmare! I 
havn't had one so bad in a long time..."
He shivers, and starts to draw the blankets about himself, then reaches
out, slamming the lightswitch on to banish the dark shapes that part 
of him still sees moving in the shadows, finally relaxing a bit as the
familiar shape of his bedroom reestablishes itself about him.

"Whew... that's better. Damn, that was scary...and so odd...it still 
all seems so clear. Coffee, I need coffee..."

Crawling out of bed, he staggers over, grabbing his robe, and cursing 
the cold as he stumbles downstairs, blearily finding the kitchen, and 
putting on the kettle as he spoons two large measures of coffee into a
cup, the mundane actions serving to reassure him that everything is 
normal, and that all that was in fact just a nightmare.

He makes his drink, and finally relaxes as he starts to sip the 
caffeine-loaded brew...

"Aaah, thats better. This should help me sleep again. Better get back 
to bed, its awfuly cold for November. Havn't had it this cold so early
for.. I can't remember when..."

Grimacing, he hurridly returns to his bedroom, slipping back under the
blankets as he cradles his coffee, sipping it as he starts to relax 
properly at last. After all, while scary, this WAS only a dream. And 
dreams can't hurt you, can they...


Part 2 - Never put strange LD's in your player, you never know what 
they have on them...