Ureshii Park was a rather pleasant place for families to spend lazy 
Sunday afternoons. Children giggled and played games that involved a lot 
of running. Some adults also ran, but enjoyed the activity considerably 
less. Couples shared intimate, but not too intimate moments. Besides the 
never-ending struggle between picnickers and ants, the place radiated a 
feeling of peace. That is, it did before the large, reptilian thing 
showed up.
	It was, under a loose definition, a Yoma. Which had become the popular 
term to refer to anything from an unidentified species, that looked like 
it might very well bite your head off.  In accordance to its nature, it 
snarled and growled and made like it was only seconds away from bringing 
hot, bloody death to anyone present. Many people were noticeably annoyed 
at the slavering hell beast's sudden intrusion, but none panicked or 
seemed particularly frightened at all.
	The Yoma paused and attempted to ponder the meaning of this 
non-reaction. Unfortunately, its intellectual capacity was rather 
limited, so it just went back to its snarling and growling bit again. 
After a couple minutes of this, an well-endowed adolescent girl, wearing 
what looked like a combination of a fairy-tale princess' outfit and a 
way too short miniskirt leaped out of nowhere and sternly faced the 
reptilian abomination. 
	"Hold, foul creature!" she declared, pointing at the, once again 
confused, Yoma, accusingly. "It is I, protector of the innocent, 
Princess Love!"
	Many of the assembled "victims" went back to their previous activities. 
By now, this had become a familiar scene. 
	Princess Love gesticulated madly; her arms quickly making out patented 
poses with precision accuracy.
	"You have committed heresy against Love, with your unpleasantness! But 
have no fear, I shall change your wicked ways, with power of song!"
	A microphone materialized in Princess Love's hand and she began her 
serenade.
	"o/Hate is very, very bad! We should love instead! For with the love in 
our hearts, we can live in happiness! Open your heart to the yummy light 
that GURK!"
	The apathetic crowd suddenly started paying attention. It seemed that 
Princess Love had updated her "Happy Healing Song"; it had never 
involved the word "gurk" before... And was all that red stuff coming 
from her forehead some kind of new attack?
	Princess Love did not continue with the "Happy Healing Song." Nor, did 
she use her Bubble Heart Wand or rush the monstrosity with a flurry of 
kicks and punches. Instead, she seemed to think that the wisest tactic 
would be to fall to the ground with a sickening crunch.  Blood slowly 
poured out of the gaping hole in her forehead and accumulated in a large 
puddle, that soon encompassed her entire body. The Yoma, realizing that 
Princess Love was no longer a threat, turned its attention on the 
shocked crowd. Soon, the formerly serene park was transformed into a 
maddening blur of screaming people. The slower percentage of which 
didn't scream quite as much, considering that they were being ripped to 
bits by the ecstatic Yoma. Which was good, because it meant that nobody 
would be noticing me.
	I blew the smoke off my gun and returned it to my trench coat pocket.
	"What did I tell you, man?" I said to my partner, Itami. "Milk run. 
C'mon, let's go grab a burger."


Improfanfic presents...

MAGICAL GIRL HUNTER

An Improfanfic created and started by Aaron Shattuck.

Episode 1: It's A Dirty Job, But...

Written by Aaron Shattuck

Edited by Chippy the Transvestite Gnome


	Business had been picking up recently. It used to be we'd have long 
gaps between _real_ work, which unfortunately had to be filled by 
"working" in the kinds of establishments where we got those burgers 
from. Now we had a waiting list. I'd like to think that this was because 
we had developed a widespread reputation, but I knew what the real 
reason was; they were multiplying like cockroaches. Still, it was good 
for business. I mean, after all, now we could afford the kind of food we 
used to have to serve.
	I had a lot of time to think about this kind of stuff, while I was 
driving to work, because Itami's really not the chatty type. No, he's 
more of the type of person that could be a real role model for suicidal 
teens. He prefers staring off into space to small talk, which I can't 
say I mind, but it does make for rather boring car rides. I briefly 
thought of saying something to him at the stop light, but when I looked 
at him, I felt compelled to check myself in the mirror. See, Itami's 
kinda scuzzy looking. Uncombed black hair all over his face, five 
o'clock shadow, the works. Sometimes, I feel grungy just looking at him, 
and this was one of those times. You'd probably be correct if you called 
it obsessive-compulsive of me. Anyhow, my face was clean and there 
wasn't a brown wittle hair on my head out of place, so all was well. I 
gave my reflection that winning smile of mine, and then resumed the 
driving thing.
	I pulled up to the building our office was in and checked my watch.
	"Hmmm... Looks like we have some time to kill," I mused.
	"Yes... we do," replied Itami, in the same way you might say, "My 
mother died today."
	"Darts or Black Jack?"
	"Darts... you always cheat at Black Jack."

	I have to say that Itami is damn good at darts. I guess he's just 
talented in anything that involves throwing sharp objects. I dunno... I 
suck at it, myself, so I was pretty relieved when I heard a knock on the 
door.
	Eight o'clock, right on the nose. It seemed that our client was one 
eager beaver. I quickly shoved the dart board underneath one of the many 
unruly stacks of papers that covered the two desks in our office (gotta 
keep up appearances, you know) and went to open the door. 
	What I saw was not a good sign. The guy was covered from head to toe. 
What he couldn't hide with his long, black coat, he hid with sunglasses, 
a derby, a scarf, gloves and galoshes. The whole setup just screamed, 
"Look at me! I'm trying to be inconspicuous!" I mean, its not a 
requirement that our clientele possess a modicum of intelligence, but it 
sure helps!
	Still, a client was a client. "Mashihaisha Ultra-san, I presume?" I 
greeted him, smiling.
	"Shh! Not so loud," he loudly whispered, accentuating his request by 
putting his finger up to where I guessed his lips must have been.
	I fought back the urge to roll my eyes and ushered him inside. Once 
there, the first thing he noticed was the first thing everyone who comes 
to our office notices: the sailor fuku pinned to the wall. It never 
belonged to one of them, mind you. I actually bought it from a school 
supply store. Initially, I put it up there as a joke, but it seemed to 
have quite an effect on our clientele. Anyhow, once he got over that, he 
took off his get up, and I saw that he was probably justified in wearing 
it. I mean, as conspicuous as that cute little costume was, it wasn't 
quite as conspicuous as a huge, blue skinned guy, with four arms, three 
eyes, and no visible nose to speak of.
	Itami reluctantly got out of his seat and offered it to Mashihaisha 
Ultra. We only have two chairs, you see and it was his turn. I turned my 
seat around and straddled it.
	"Well, I believe that introductions are in order," I reasoned 
cheerfully. "I am Yoi, and this is my partner, Itami."
	Itami actually managed to wave. Sure, he didn't bother to pick his head 
up or look anywhere near Mashihaisha Ultra-san, but it was quite an 
improvement, anyway.
	"It was very wise for you to come to us with your particular... 
problem," I continued. "We're specialists in the field, you know."
	Mashihaisha Ultra just nodded, his eyes darting around the room like 
gnats on cocaine.
	"Mashihaisha Ultra-san, I assure you that we're completely safe here," 
I soothed. I was pretty good at getting people to calm down. Like 
Quaaludes without the side effects.
	"I... I'm sorry," stammered the client. "It's just that... I've been on 
edge ever since..."
	"I understand what you're going through," I sympathized, doing my best 
to ooze compassion from every pour. "It must be terrible for you."
	"I mean, it's not like mine is the only organization of this sort! Why 
doesn't she pick on someone else for a change?!" The poor guy was close 
to tears. 
	"They tend to 'latch on' to specific groups and badger them 
incessantly," I explained, doing my best psychiatrist impersonation. 
"Our studies have shown that their 'obsession complex' develops early 
on, usually regarding the first organized business they run into... 
They'll continue their terrorist activities towards that one group until 
they are stopped or it is destroyed."
	Mashihaisha Ultra gulped; little beads of sweat beginning to slide down 
his forehead. He was really worried now.
	"Really, it's an obvious crime; what these parasites have done to 
entrepreneurs, such as yourself. Of course, the police don't want to 
have to deal with the problem, and the public certainly isn't pressuring 
them to. I'm afraid they're image has become quite positive. So you see, 
you're not only helping yourself, by enlisting our aid. You're also 
providing a valuable public service..."
	Ah, the ol' rationale. See, despite the... shall we say less than 
morally sound nature of the organizations (okay, gangs) that Mashihaisha 
Ultra headed, the idea of hiring someone to... well... to blow the heads 
off of little girls sometimes didn't sit entirely well with them. I 
mean, they might constantly go on about offing the squirts themselves, 
but the simple fact that they were always guaranteed to fail, meant that 
they never really considered what that would really entail. They had to, 
when they hired us, though. We had a ninety-nine percent success rate.
	"If... if you say so," he conceded, claming down visibly.
	"So who do you want us to kill?" asked Itami. I swear, that boy has no 
sense of human (well, near human) relations.
	"Itami-kun," I chided, "You know we don't use that word here. Its 
'remove from active operatation,' remember?"
	Itami gave me a look of quiet disgust, but didn't agitate the situation 
further, thankfully. 
	"Her... her name is," Mashihaisha Ultra's eyes started shifting again 
and he lowered his voice to a horse whisper, "Captain Kawaii."
	He started rummaging through his pants pocket and produced a dog-eared 
photo.
	"This is her picture. Please! I'll pay you anything! Half my staff's 
quit already!"
	"Have no fear, Mashihaisha Ultra-san," I assured pleasantly, plucking 
the photo from his hand. "You can consider your problem solved."

	Dammit, I thought, examining the photo. She was one of really young 
ones.
	What the hell motivated these organizations to recruit toddlers, 
anyway? I mean, they were basically training them to be terrorists! Did 
they get some perverse kick out of sending girls who should be in 
pre-school, into urban combat situations? "Oh, we're powerless against 
the enemy, Kyomi-chan! Only a five-year-old like you can defeat them! 
Now go toddle off and perform some guerilla tactics, while we have tea 
and scones!" It was disgusting! Oh, well... at least it wasn't a team. I 
really hated having to deal with the teams.
	Anywho, we decided to see if we couldn't lure kid viscous out into the 
open. I had Mashihaisha Ultra-san leak out rumors of his "organization" 
starting a new front at a local shoe repair shop, called "Shoe Church. 
We Will Save Your Soles" (I figured that if things got ugly, that place 
would deserve any damage it sustained.) So, with any luck, if we waited 
around long enough, we might spot someone matching Captain Kawaii's 
description snooping around the place. Staking out a stake out, so to 
speak. Unfortunately, this required sitting for long periods of time in 
the car... with Itami.
	To amuse myself, I began imagining perverse conversations, between 
people I saw in the street. It helped a bit.

	Two hours later, Itami started screaming and clutching his head. I have 
to say I was quite surprised. Despite all the supporting evidence, I had 
never _really_ believed that he was insane.
	"Errr... Itami-kun... You okay, man?" I asked gently.
	"It's that song," he growled. "It's been stuck in my head ever since 
our last job."
	"Huh?"
	"That stupid song that Princess whatshername was singing!"
	"What? That thing? But, she only got t' sing a couple seconds of it!"
	"Yeah, but we had to hear it when we were doing the research, 
remember?" explained Itami, his usual dour tone beginning to return to 
his voice. "Must've triggered a flashback."
	"Well, you know," I reasoned, trying to bite back a smile and doing a 
rather poor job at it, "sometimes it helps if you let it out."
	"What?"
	"You know... sing a few bars." Sure, I'd be in danger of catching it 
myself, but I was _not_ going to miss an opportunity to get the God of 
Gloom to sing the "Happy Healing Song."
	"You're kidding."
	"C'mon! At least do the 'yummy light' bit; it's my favorite!"
	Itami just gave me his patented look of disgust and went back to 
suffering in silence. Thought it would be too good to be true.

	An hour after that, I left to go to the bathroom. On the way there, I 
spotted a kid that I thought might've been the target, but she didn't 
stick around too long. Just ran by, tripped, got up and left. They're 
normally not so subtle, so I thought it was doubtful that she was our 
quarry.

	Two hours after that, back in the car, Itami started speaking again.
	"My mother died today, you know," he said in the same way you might 
say, "Yes... we do."
	"Ahh... that's terrible," I replied, feeling (probably justifiably) 
awkward. "Was she in pain?"
	"I dunno... They say she was caught in the trash compactor for a few 
hours..."
	"Errr...," I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so I just looked 
at him oddly.
	"I'm just trying to make conversation," Itami shrugged.
Thankfully, he let the subject drop. 
	Two hours after that and I was ready to quit and become a finance 
accountant, like my parents always wanted me to. Probably would have 
been a wise decision, but the little squirt decided to show up at that 
very moment. Sorry, Dad.
	Okay, these were the telltale signs that the little redheaded moppet in 
question was, in fact, our target.
1. She kept pacing back and forth in front of the "Shoe Church," peering 
inside the windows. How interested could a little girl _be_ in a shoe 
repair shop?
2. She was way too cute. No normal kid is that cute in real life.
3. She was accompanied by a rabbit. A pink rabbit.
	"I think we have our girl," I suggested to Itami, who slowly nodded. 
	It was time to confirm our suspicions. As planned, I started the car 
up, and swung around the block, stopping at an alleyway. I got out of 
the car and walked through the alleyway, which led to the backdoor of 
the shoe repair shop. I entered through there, waved to the confused 
shoe repair guy, and exited out the front door.
	"Hey, niisan," the little girl stopped me as I was about to walk away.
	Bingo!
	"Hm?" I asked, smiling benignly. "Can I help you, little girl?"
	"You see anything strange going on in there?" she asked, motioning 
towards the building I had just left.
	"Huh? Well, I went here to get my shoes repaired, but they weren't very 
serviceable. They seemed too busy chanting and talking about raising 
horrors from beyond time and space, to bother with my spats, so I just 
left. I guess that is kinda strange, come to think of it," I finished, 
contemplating this revelation with my hand to my chin.
	The cute little dickens rushed off, right on schedule. Presumably to 
transform into a "crusader against evil." That was one of the problems 
with job; it was our company policy that we had to let them transform 
first. Couldn't run the risk of killing the wrong little girl, after 
all. And besides, the authorities tended to "look the other way," when 
one of them got whacked. After all, they were representatives of 
_foreign powers_ that considered themselves _above_ Japanese law. Not 
that we could afford not to be discreet, mind you.
	I signaled Itami with my toy walkie-talkie (hey, they were cheap!) We 
were going to have to move fast.

	The plan was pretty simple. First, as prearranged, we had one of 
Mashihaisha Ultra's guys come by to scare Shoe Repairman-san off (he had 
to be completely convinced that he wouldn't have to deal with Captain 
Kawaii in any way whatsoever, before he agreed to do it, though.) Itami 
took a position behind the counter and I hid behind a shoe rack that lay 
adjacent to the door. After that, it was just a matter of waiting. Hey, 
hardly a napoleonic display of military genius, but this kind of thing 
_did_ work.
	We didn't have to wait long, before Captain Kawaii burst into the room 
in a swirl of rainbow light.
	Technically, she looked just like the little girl from earlier, but if 
I didn't know it was her already, my consciousness wouldn't have 
registered the connection between the two. I'm not sure how they do 
that. She seemed to be wearing the standard sailor fuku-based uniform 
that, thankfully, came past her knees and her only noticeable weapon was 
a plain magician-type wand.
	"Mashyites, come out and play!" she smiled.
	Funny, no speech... Must be my lucky day, I thought, leveling the gun 
carefully. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my hand that caused me to 
drop my weapon. I let out a short cry and looked down to see the fucking 
little pink bunny rabbit's teeth clamped tightly on my hand. Naturally, 
this didn't escape Captain Kawaii's notice. I would have been dead meat 
right there, if I didn't have Itami backing me up. Unfortunately, the 
Captain dodged his bullet and zapped him with a stream of rainbow 
colored light. The light hit him right on _his_ hand, causing him to 
drop _his_ gun, as well. I swear I smelled burning meat after that 
happened.
	Great. Just great.
	Flinging the bunny off of me, I slipped from behind the rack, rushed 
Captain Kawaii, and smacked her hard on the back of the head. She flew 
forward and slammed against the far wall, dropping to the ground.
	Okay, I was on top of the situation! Just had to get my knife out 
and...
	Captain Kawaii got up, looked me directly in the eye, smiled, and 
licked the blood that was trickling down her forehead.
	Oh................................. shit.
	She was one of the nasty ones. No distorted sense of justice here. No 
hippy-dippy-trippy ideals of love and compassion. This girly liked the 
part where she got to hurt things. No wonder Mashihaisha Ultra was so 
edgy...
	I nodded to Itami and we ran the hell out of there as fast as we could. 
The tables were turned now. She was armed, and we weren't (well, I still 
had my knife and a book of matches, but...) I just hoped that her stumpy 
little legs wouldn't be able to keep up with us.
	Damn, so much for our ninety-nine percent success rate.
	I looked over at Itami. I swear that guy scares me sometimes... He 
didn't seem to register in the least that his right hand had become what 
looked like a very overdone pot roast. It was a shame that we had never 
bothered to get any medical insurance...
	Wait, it looked like we wouldn't have to worry about big hospital 
bills, because Captain Kawaii was catching up with us. The kid was 
_fast_... Okay, I'd just turn left on this corner and... Itami, you 
idiot! He simply _had_ to turn right, didn't he? Well, maybe she'd 
follow him, instead of me.
	It looked like I had entered a residential area... Pretty posh 
neighborhood, with lots of expensive looking, western-style houses. 
Well, that meant solid doors. 
	I rang the doorbell of the first one I came to. A well-dressed lady 
opened it and looked at me, confused.
	"Avon calling," I explained, punching her directly in the face.
	She fell unconscious on the ground. Really, it's not as if I get a kick 
out of hurting people, but I didn't exactly have time to explain my 
situation.
	All right, I thought, locking the door. Time to put on your thinking 
cap, Koi. Any minute now, a juvenile delinquent with a wand of death is 
going to come a-knockin'. I just gotta come up with a plan of action and 
everything'll be cool. That's right, just keep a level head and... Why 
was the pet door swinging?
	I prayed to whatever gods that existed to please make it a cat, before 
looking down and seeing a pink bunny rabbit staring up at me with beady 
little eyes. 
	That does it, I thought. I'm really becoming an atheist now.
	"Over here, Captain Kawaii!" the bunny screeched in a voice that could 
only have been developed for the purposes of shattering glass. "He's 
over here!"
	Might as well make the most of my impending doom, I thought. I picked 
up the little pink bunny rabbit and repeatedly smashed it's cute little 
body against the wall. It made some satisfying crunching sounds, 
twitched a bit and then went completely limp, it's blood and brains 
covering the previously white plaster.
	Boy, that felt good, I thought, just before the door flew off its 
hinges.
	I didn't need to look. I _knew _ what it was behind me. All I needed to 
do was get the hell out of there.
	I ran through the kitchen which, thankfully, led to the back door. It 
didn't calm my nerves any, to hear the pitter-patter of little feet 
following me, though. Being shot at didn't help any, either. It was a 
good thing that Captain Kawaii didn't have very good aim. Either that or 
she was toying with me. Beams of rainbow light shot past me, inches away 
from doing serious damage. As I ran for my life, I began to mutter 
"o/Hate is very, very bad, we should love instead...o/"
	Argh! I thought. Now I have it stuck in my head!
	The beams started trailing off and becoming fewer in number. Looked 
like my adrenaline rush was giving me a bit of an edge, speed-wise. I 
ducked into an alleyway and began to bury myself deep within the 
labyrinth that was created by poor urban planning. It didn't take long 
before they ran out, though, and was back out in the open again. 
	The open wasn't good. I had to find a far less visible place to be, 
like, say... Like that warehouse over there.

	The lock had already been ripped off, which was a bit suspicious, but I 
didn't have many options. The way I saw it, the possibility of running 
into an insane homeless man, was a far better prospect than being a 
sitting duck for an insane little girl and her magic wand bazooka.
	I carefully crept behind a stack of wooden crates and came within three 
inches of having my head bashed in with a crowbar.
	"Oh," shrugged Itami, still holding the crowbar too close to my head 
for my liking, "it's just you."
	"Yes, it's me!" I snapped, my usual composure having withered away 
quite a bit. "Just where the hell did you go off to?!"
	Itami decided it was beneath him to point out that I now knew _exactly_ 
where he had gone off to, and decided to just stare at me, instead.
	Okay, I thought. Maybe Captain Kawaii _won't_ be able to follow my 
trail like a bloodhound and kill us both where we stand... and maybe the 
Prime Minister'll throw me a Christmas party, as well. I need a plan, 
and fast!
	I began to nervously pace around with my head down, so it's really no 
wonder I smacked it on one of the wooden crates.
	Rubbing my sore noggin, I happened to notice what was written on that 
particular crate. "Warning: Flammable. Kerosene. This side up."
	Let's have a round of applause for dramatic coincidence, folks.

	"o/With warm hugs, we'll start to feel fuzzy inside. And then we'll 
have... Happy, happy smiles...o/" I sang, as I stuck my knife into the 
final barrel. Picking it up, I shuffled backwards, allowing the very 
flammable liquid inside to splatter on the ground in a thin trail. 
Satisfied that I had gone back far enough, I quickly ran back to the 
front door and put the barrel down there, by the others. 
	"Itami, did you get that window open?" I asked, wiping the kerosene 
that had splashed on my hands on my pocket-handkerchief.
	"Yes," he muttered. "What'll we do if she decides to start firing at us 
from outside?"
	"Why, we'll die of course!" I confirmed, cheerfully.
	This didn't seem to upset him quite as much as I thought it would.
	I skipped up to Itami, continuing to sing the "Happy Healing Song" 
under my breath. Now standing directly next to the open window, I took 
out my book of matches. 
"o/We should loooooove! We Should looooooove!o/"
Before I could get to the final stanza of the song, I heard the creak of 
a door being opened.
	Yes! She didn't blow it open with her magic wand! Thank you, thank you, 
thank you!
	Captain Kawaii smiled maliciously, and leveled her magic wand straight 
between my eyes.
	"You did a bad thing to Pinku-chan," she chided. "That wasn't very 
nice."
	I smiled back and lit the book of matches.
	 "Let the yummy light into your heart, you little freak!" I suggested, 
dropping the handful of flame onto the kerosene stream.
	We jumped out of the window, and, unfortunately, parts of the building 
decided to follow us. I guess I should have thought of that, I mused as 
a piece of what used to be a wall slammed into me.
	Fortunately, it seemed that all the action pictures I'd seen hadn't 
lied to me, because I was still alive. Albeit, in more pains than I have 
ever thought possible, but alive nevertheless. Groaning, I shrugged some 
flaming wreckage off of me and got up. What I saw, didn't help my mood. 
	Captain Kawaii stood a few feet in front of me and, despite a few 
singed spots on her fuku, looked none the worse for wear. She was also 
putting Itami's arm in a position that it had never been intended to be 
in. She giggled, as his joint started making unpleasant snapping sounds, 
followed by a small whimper. Jeez, he must've really been in pain, to do 
that. After a resounding "crack!" she let go of the arm, which hung 
limply at odd angle. Then, she started on the other one.
	"You're those 'Magical Girl Hunters' I've heard about, right?" she 
asked cheerfully, as she put my partner through all new levels of agony. 
"You're sure a lot more fun than the Mashyites. I have lots of games we 
can play!"
	It was then that I realized that I really, really, really hated my job.


Gasp! What will happen to our loveable pair of child murderers?! Damned 
if I know! I thought I should mention to anyone sadistic enough to 
continue this happy little story, that just because I wrote it in the 
first person, doesn't mean you have to. Heck, you can even write it in a 
different persons perspective, if you want! Sure, it'll look choppy, but 
that's rather difficult to avoid with this kind of thing, isn't it? 
Well, that's all for now. Say good night, Chippy!

Chippy: Burn in hell, Aaron!

Enh... close enough.

This story concept and all the characters and stuff are property of 
Aaron Shattuck, who should be very sorry he created them, but isn't. So 
there!

For anyone who doesn't know, this is an Improfanfic, which means that 
even though I started it, other people can sign up to continue it. The 
whole setup's at http://pixelscapes.com/improfanfic/. Go there to read 
future installments, read other improfic's, sign up to write future 
installments of mine or the other ones, to sign up to start your own or 
just to see the really cool title graphic this story gets! If anyone 
feels mysteriously compelled to write to me, my e-mail address is 
dilandau2@hotmail.com. Remember folks, cute little girls with magical 
wands deserve to die. It's in the constitution! 


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