OK, since the last couple of times time I sent it, the message bounced back
to me, I'll try sending this again. (Hope the last two times did not get
cache'd someplace!)
...And since I've started recieving messages that seem to have originated
today, and not a few days ago, leading me to believe the list is getting back
up to speed...
<fingers crossed, placing good luck tokens all around>
Here it goes: "Once again into the list..."
----------------------------------------------------
Well, Thanks to some suggestions I received, I revised the introduction to
this story, added some detail, polished my tenses, etc. and it reads a little
better now. As always C&C is welcome, Flames are OK, as long as people
realize that I'll keep this story going for a while longer reagardless.
So, with nothing else to say but the standard disclaimer:
The characters and main situations belong to people more dedicated
than me to creating and marketing original works, and thus are not mine, nor
should they be implied to be. They are used without permission, but no harm
to the author or personal profit is intended out of them, so please do not
sue, etc...
Here is the revised intro, (with a hopefully improved title.)
----------------------------------------------------
Broken Puzzle, Falling Pieces
Open Box, Scrambled Image
It had been yet another cold, wet night in Nerima. The mind-numbing
mutter from the heavy downpour had finally ended, but the noisy, dark clouds
still remained, threatening. Solitude and justified wariness awaited any
straggler unfortunate enough to travel these grimy streets at night. Nearby,
the glare of bare fluorescent lights illuminated the unassuming interior of a
small restaurant, somehow still open at such late hours. The harsh light
shone on the mostly empty cafe, whose clean, unpretentious appearance made an
abrupt contrast to the world outside.
Somehow, this veneer of peace only served to heighten the haunted
expression worn by nearby customer. His distorted, but otherwise forgettable
reflection, slid off from a large pile of empty bottles and into his plate,
next to his untouched, and cold, cold, meal. His mutterings and loud sobbing
had grown with the pile, to the point of noticeable aggravation. In a sudden
burst of lucidity, the drunken young man looked up from his plate and seemed
to notice, (perhaps for the first time tonight,) the pile of empty bottles,
and as he screamed incoherently, (something about lost love and foolish
drunkenness,) his right arm swept everything off the table, and into the
floor, where the plate and bottles shattered loudly.
Now the thing to consider about �Ucchan�s� was that, in spite of its
slightly unconventional ambiance, it was one of the friendlier dives in town,
catering to generally ordinary, working class people. The owner�s patient
listening and sensible advice had already put a few local bars out of
business, despite the fact that the restaurant had been open for less than a
year. But that hospitality had its limits, as this soon-to-be former
customer was about to find out.
While a �waitress� swept the mess away from the floor, a quiet curse
from behind the main counter could be heard. As the manager, (and owner,) got
up, a careful observer might have noticed that in spite of the masculine
clothing and mannerisms, something about this person seemed odd. It wasn�t
the annoyed look, or the aggressive fighting stance, or the rows of
razor-sharp spatulas, (worn bandoleer-style across the chest,) that
appeared to be unusual. Even the humongous spatula belonged quite naturally
in those hands. Nonetheless, a careful person might still have sensed
something strangely unsettling about the person headed towards the young
man�s table. This peculiar feeling went completely unnoticed by the customer.
He had been about to pass out, when an angry voice brought him back to
reality. (Well, almost.)
�Huh? Wha� Oh, I�m shorry, sir! Ah� was jusht a bit upset, didn�t
mean�ta cause a shcene. Would it help if I ordered another special? Mine
seems to be missing, somehow. And, uhm� Oh yesh! �bout the bill� �S there�ny
way Ah could� Ahm� See, I�m trying to shave some money fo��
Any further comments by the young man were interrupted by a sudden,
sobering realization. His feet were no longer touching the ground, and the
rest of him was being held rather uncomfortably close to a wall by something
hard and metallic, vaguely resembling a very large, and very solid, snow
shovel. That panicky realization, combined with the look of contempt and
barely contained rage given to him by the person holding said metal object,
were more than enough to sober him up completely.
�Ahm? Sir? There�s no need for violence, really. Could you put me
down, please? I promise you I won�t be anymore trouble, if you�ll just let me
down. Pretty please? I�ll pay my bill and leave. OK? There, here�s the money
for the bill, and another few hundred yen for a tip. Real, everyday money,
see? Could you please put me down now, please, sir? There is even some extra
money left for the waitress that cleaned up my mess, and if you�ll let me
stay, maybe a bit left for some coffee to sober me up. Pleeeeaaase sir? I�ll
be good, you�ll get no more trouble from me. None at all, sir! OK? Pretty
pleeeaaase, can I be put down? It�ll be OK, you�ll see � Please can I ��
Wanting to put an end to the budding spectacle being made by such
pathetic groveling, and given the client�s newfound willingness to pay and
sober up, Ukiyo Kuonji finally puts her spatula down, but not before making
sure the young man and his coffee will remain by the front counter, from
where she can keep a weary eye on him.
After a couple of cups of coffee, the young man in the crumpled gray
overcoat had regained most of his sobriety, even as he talked about himself,
his sorrows, and the reasons behind them.
�Ouch. I�m not dangerous, and would have paid with no complaints, if
you had just let me. Still, I suppose I overdid it with the sake, and I know
that upon seeing me, people think: �This guy don�t look like much, just some
drunken derelict coming in, getting out of the rain while he runs a tab he
can�t pay. Truly pathetic.� Everybody does that, you don�t need to deny it!
But there really was no need to get violent, honest! As you can probably
tell, I don�t amount to much in a brawl, and people do tend to ignore me, but
over the years I�ve dealt with enough scum and misery in this dark, broken
town of Nerima, to tell you tales that would shake anyone. By the way sir,
here�s my card.�
+-----------------------------------------+
| Hikaru �Spike� Gosunguki |
| Private Investigator. |
| 666 desperation Rd. Suite 13 |
+-----------------------------------------+
�In this town where fists speak louder than words, I make a living
off my brains and innate cunning. Everyone in this town, has at least one
dark secret to keep, and it is my tragic job to find those secrets out, and
expose them. You don�t believe me? Well, let me tell you about my latest
case��
----------------------------------------------------
Well, if you made it this far, and you liked this, I suppose It would
only be polite to tell you that I'll soon send (at least a partial) chapter 1
out.
--
"There is nothing in this world of value...
Nothing worth risking our lives for...
...except 'erhaps...
...what little we can create ourselves."
Daisuke Ido (Gunnm / Battle Angel)
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http://userzweb.lightspeed.net/arev/