(just reposting this. my character's fucked up.)
ANTISOCIAL PRESS PRESENTS:
Evil in the Eye Story 2: A Janitor's Guide To Taking Out Big Brother's BUMA
Written by Khyron the Backstabber
INTRODUCTION & DRIVEL
(just scroll down to the fic to bypass this scream of agony)
This fanfic is long overdue so I guess I owe my prereaders and those idiots
who keep flaming me some explanations. I was supposed to have it out like a
month ago, but my computer crashed taking everything out with it. But it
don't stiop there. Then I meet up with some expat girl from New Hampshire
whose idea of a good time does not include being cooped up like a hermit in
front of my PC for days on end or spray-painting the pedestrian walkways.
Then to top it off, I'm minding my own business in a comic shop then the
next thing I know, I'm being hired for some Advertising company, I'm
wearing a fucking necktie and I'm taking PR seminars in the Hongkong SAR. I
have not had any free time for myself until last Friday when me and my
friends finally got together to play "Ninja Chicken" on the freeway. We
also had the (mis)fortune to moon the President of the country. Ah hell,
thank god he has a sense of humor...
Anyway, this fanfic was written with the help and thanks of A LOT of
people, but in a general consensus, I've decided to withhold their names
until the reports come in. If a majority of the FFML say this is great,
I'll release the names. If this turns out to be a dead fish...
well, then at least you guys won't be worried about having to be associated
with this. I know this is only a teaser, but I promise to have Chapter 1
out by next week.
DISCLAIMER:
Many portions of this fanfic have been stolen from people and institutions
that don't know me and hopefully will never find out who I am or where I
live. If you either own or know where I got these references, please take
this as a tribute. Otherwise, you can just take it up the tailpipe. I live
in a non-extradition treaty country.
RULES FOR THIS FIC
1. I will definitely NOT become a god.
2. I will have NO unexplainable foreknowledge of the
BGC or ADP world whatsoever.
3. The BGC/ADP characters will not immediately notice me
or discern that I am a reality jumper.
4. Neither the characters nor I will always come up with
the right answer to the upcoming chaos.
5. I will not sign up with the Knight Sabers or become a
fairy godmother or do any other stale clich�.
6. I will not use established fanfic stereotypes when
writing the characters so don't start screaming OOC.
==========
"Thin-de le'hsaun 'aloun'myin-de/bpi-de gka-de
hsou-depaya"
--- Ancient yautja proverb.
(Learn the gift of all sights or finish in the dance of fallen gods.)
--- English translation.
==========
The Imperial Household of Japan has, since 200 B.C., been the symbol
of the national identity of Japan. Even during the Shogunate period and the
rejection of the Emperor's Divinity in 1945, the Emperor, as a figurehead
has always meant stability and an anchor to centuries of
tradition in the face of the modern world. The Second Great Kanto
Earthquake of 2025 destroyed that myth of stability with the death of most
of the Imperial Family as well as everyone in direct line of succession.
Without an heir to the throne and the last Yamato clan Emperor of the Jimmu
Tenno line unable to bear any more children, the people of Japan turned to
a new figure of power. Genom.
The Reconstruction efforts further underlined the idea of Genom both
as saviour to the people of post-Holocaust Japan and as the new spiritual
figurehead of the Republic. The subsequent manoeuvres of Genom to control
the Diet cast the role of the Emperor into further disregard. When the Diet
Resolution 1020 was forwarded, officially abolishing the title of Emperor
and replacing it with a more 'modern' post of President, the Emperor did
nothing to protest this. By refusing to even put up a token defence for the
traditions and ceremony that had kept Japan unique among
the other peoples of Asia, the Office of the Imperial Household resigned
from the Palace Duties in disgust. Thus began the May 4 Mutiny.
On the fourth of May 2026, the Grand Chamberlain of the Imperial
Household and several Imperial Stewards and Minor Nobles in the Self
Defence Forces stormed the National Building, taking the entire Diet
hostage. The Prime Minister and other Members of Parliament who had pushed
forth Resolution 1020 was beheaded live on NHK with the Sword of Jimmu
Tenno, the symbol of the Emperor's divinity. The siege lasted for three
months until the National Building was recovered by a contingent of the
Japanese Ground Self Defence Forces equipped with the best of Genom weapons
technology.
The siege began at 07.59H right before the daily speech given by the
Grand Chamberlain to the Japanese people. The terrorists fought to the
death for six long and terrible hours, singing songs old samurai glory, to
protect the Grand Chamberlain and cover his escape. His unsaid speech was
found littered on the floor of the Assembly. It reads as follows:
"This nation was founded by Kami and lives only at
their behest and blessings. Thus, do the Children of
Nihon live. By disavowing this sacred bond between our
world and theirs, we anger them and risk our own karma.
Genom seeks to become a new religion among the young,
with their power, and wealth, and other seductive
temptations.
"When Emperor Showa rejected his own divinity in
1945, the Empire of Nihon crumbled into a soulless
materialistic society, more concerned with hedonism and
self-gratification. Now this Emperor has chosen to give
up his birthright. The birthright handed down from
Amaterasu Omikami to Jimmu Tenno and his children. The
Office of the Imperial Household will not and cannot
stand for another further destruction to the nation and
traditions we so dearly love.
"We shall honour his wishes and turn our backs to
him. Genom proclaims that by doing so, that we are
hypocrites, and that we dishonour the very traditions we
espouse to protect! This is not true. The Imperial
Household never placed their loyalty to the person of
any one Emperor. We, as in the past and always, have
devoted our lives and honour, and loyalty to the throne
of Japan and symbols of Divinity.
"From this point on, there is no Emperor. The noble
line of Jimmu Tenno is ended! The Yamato clan is dust
beneath our feet! As the People of Japan have turned
their face away from tradition and the Kami, the Kami
and their blessings turn away from you! Nihon shall lie
dead, until one chosen by the Kami shall come, bearing
the Sword of Jimmu Tenno and the lost Mirror and Jewel
of Amaterasu Omikami.
In the end, the Reconstructed Diet unanimously rejected Resolution
1020 and the Emperor kept his position. But somehow, the prestige that once
sustained that post, even through the furore surrounding the Dissolution of
that post, was gone. As if the Divine Mandate of Heaven had been finally
stripped. Either way, Genom moved to the forefront of society. The Grand
Chamberlain made well his escape and vanished with the Sword of Jimmu
Tenno. To this day, we know nothing of the whereabouts of the Grand
Chamberlain. As is the tradition, all Members of the Office of the Imperial
Household have no record as to their identities or names. The Sword of
Jimmu Tenno comes back several years later in the hands of the Neo-Shogun.
CHAPTER 27. The Reconstruction of Japan, the Dissolution of Tradition, and
the Return to Empire.
---Junior High School History Textbook, c. 3072
==========
"All nations need something, some person or symbol, to which they can
cleave; which can give a disparate mass of people a sense of identity and
thus of unity. And when times are bad, that can unite them across barriers
of language and clan. Genom has built itself into that national symbol,
that icon. No one will go against them in favour of vacuum. There must be
an alternative icon."
---Apocryphal quote from a former janitor from Genom.
==========
YESTERDAY'S TOMORROW
The NERV Control Room descended into chaos as the Intruder made itself
felt inside the Box.
"Analysis of pattern: blue," Ritsuko muttered in shock,
"It's an Angel, no question."
"An Angel? You let an Angel get inside" Sub Commander
Fuyutsuki gasped.
"Sorry, sir"
"No excuse needed. Close the Central Dogma. Separate it from Sigma
Unit."
"Central Dogma, closed down physically," an Operator
intoned as warning klaxons sounded, "Separating it from Sigma
Unit."
What had begun as a routine harmonics test had quickly become a
full-scale cluster-fuck in the last thirty-five seconds. The Angel had
hitched a ride into the Geo Front by hiding inside a set of replacement
valves in the Pribnow Box. Within the presence of the pilots, it began to
corrode away the 87th protein wall and started to use the converted matter
as a building source to propagate itself at an alarming rate. At this
point, the primary task would be to retrieve the pilots and operators from
the infected corridor.
"Abandon this Box," Misato screamed,
"Evacuate!"
Something about this attack didn't smell quite right to
Commander Ikari. This was not what he had expected the Eleventh Angel to
do. He was sure of this. He had studied the documents too thoroughly the
last fifteen years to have made a mistake like this. For some odd three or
four seconds, he dismissed a stray possibility that the Angel had been
modified somehow...
"Stop the alert."
Aoba stared at his Commanding Officer in surprise, but swallowed his
shock and complied. "S-- stopping the alert, sir."
"It was a mistake, the Commander intoned in precise syllables,
"An error in the detector. Tell the Japanese government and the
Committee so."
"Y-- yes, sir."
**********
YESTERDAY'S TOMORROW
Commander Ikari lay awake that evening, staring at the ceiling of his
Spartan bedroom. His thoughts ran through the day's incident. This
afternoon's battle may not have been fought in the streets of
Tokyo-3, but the war was just as vicious, he mused. The nanites began their
assault on the MAGI by evolving into a colony of complex organisms capable
of jumping from the heavy water container into the computer's
Security Mainbanks. They had then breached the clearance passwords and
proceeded to invade Melchior and reprogram it. Balthazar was the next to
fall. The final target was the full access of the Geo Front itself.
Fortunately, the nanites had been delayed by Ritsuko's idea to
randomise the login passwords,. She then attempted to purge the system by
reloading the source code and succeeded, barely missing the target
deadline. All in all, today was not something Commander Ikari would like to
experience again.
The phone rang.
<DORURURU>
"Commander Ikari, sir?" the voice began stoutly began,
"You asked me to telephone you if we turned up any more
anomalies?"
Commander Ikari simply grunted his assent for the caller to continue.
Even without face to face contact, the caller recognized the authority the
voice on the other end seemed to radiate.
"Sir, there has been an intrusion in the JGSDF Kansai Armoury.
Seven N-2 nosecones appear to have been appropriated BY PERSONS
UNKNOWN."
**********
TODAY'S TOMORROW
2034 was definitely a bad year. The Boomer Revolution had left most of
the city ruins from the rampage and people were still coming to grip with
the devastation. A serial killer had stalked the Paradise loop leaving a
number of whores mutilated and disfigured. 2035 wasn't that good for
Mega-Tokyo either. The Ministry of Health and Public Welfare had once again
raised the grades on the city's pollution indexes, thus presenting
the inhabitants with the illusion that all was well for your lungs. The
Aqua City reclamation project had been obliterated by orbital bombardment.
Urban legends of the oddest kind seemed to spread by word of mouth through
the pubs and bin fires... there was a demon-possessed car that roamed
Highway 4 searching for kills... someone on the SDPC's Genaros
orbital facility was breeding a race of boomers who wanted to exterminate
the human race...
On the upside, several of the gangs that staked out portions of the
city as private fire zones were seriously depleted in strength. Perhaps
things would look better in the New Year for everyone involved... Then
somewhere in the fault line, reality once again began to twist upon itself
in a most disturbing manner. From the skies above, came a shaft of light, a
bright yellow in colour and slower in its descent than light ought to be.
Several deep-space probes went immediately on red alert and their
corresponding ground crews collectively wet their pants. Where the column
of solid light began, none of the orbital satellites would ever know
because just as it began without warning, the light abruptly ness, but the
impact in a forgotten side-street left a crater taking every building out
in a three block radius.
The figure shimmered half in and half out of the visible spectrum. As
it hauled itself out of the impact crater the figure gazed in confusion at
its surroundings then triggered its tarei'hsan loop.
"NOTE: Next time, don't ever leave the damn planet! It
hurts too much getting home... Ow... ow... ow..."
Then he suddenly realized that the gravity around him was still near
zero when several soda cans and chips of concrete hung in the air around
him, taking their sweet time to fall. This was bad. That meant that the
reality bolt he was riding was still in effect. That meant...
"oooOOOh SHIiIIT…
Then the secondary reality bolt dropped down and engulfed him.
**********
ANTISOCIAL PRESS PRESENTS:
A JANITOR'S GUIDE TO TAKING OUT BIG BROTHER'S BUMA
Written by Khyron the Backstabber
**********
The fires had spread out gutting everything within three miles from
ground zero. With the help of the Japanese Air and Ground Self Defence
Forces, the Emergency Rescue Units struggled desperately to put out the
inferno. It would be a losing battle, and in the end, the only way
Mega-Tokyo was saved was by triggering the orbital satellites to gouge out
wide firebreaks along the circumference of the blast. In this, another
thirty blocks were destroyed and the parliament screamed at the damage
total when the last embers were put out nine days later: 84 trillion yen in
property damage and 138,000 dead. The hospitals were filled to overflowing
with people either injured from the shockwave or with respiratory problems
from the smaze.
The National Government had ceased to have any real powers with the
advent of the mega-corporations. Aside from the obligatory knee-jerk
reactions to public outcries and natural disasters, the elected leaders of
the Japanese people had long abandoned their rights to govern, instead
trading their sense of duty and self-respect for puppet strings and rubber
stamps. The oligarchies themselves cared little for anything except for
what could prop up their tottering bellies. Anything else was a waste of
time. Except for last night's disaster.
The devastation of what was now being termed the "Wormwood
Meteorite," had actually raised such a public outcry and a drain on
the already empty national coffers that the puppets had no choice but to
beg their masters for aid. And Genom, as the ultimate puppet master, had
already learned, no matter who or how much they controlled, it was always
the public perception that mattered; the one factor that they could never
fully shape or direct.
With the nation screaming at its leaders, Genom had no real choice but
to pony up or risk losing their already ludicrous hold on the sham that was
society in 2034. The loss of revenue actually managed to cut into two
percent of the company's net profits for the early quarter of the
Japanese fiscal year. Genom was not happy. But neither was it stupid.
Within twenty-four hours, the company had already wrangled enough
concessions out of the rubber-stamp Diet that it would control and oversee
over ninety-two percent of the reconstruction. Though not as great as the
Second Great Kanto Earthquake, it was another chance to gain a tighter
stranglehold on the population of Mega-Tokyo. And that in it self was
priceless...
**********
On a high point somewhere far from the devastation line, the Visitor
looked out across the damage his arrival into this world caused. The young
man was dressed in an outlandish outfit made out of dlex, rhynth hide, net
mesh, and pieces of what appeared to be bronze armour plating inlaid with
unrecognisable squiggles. His US-issue BDU trousers had long lost their
Urban Tiger pattern in the grime and were now one large stain. The cricket
shin pads and Converse high cuts he wore were not quite in the best of
shape either. A jury-rigged cloak made out of discarded military-grade
tarpaulin completed the ensemble. All of this was charred and a haze of
ozone seemed to permeate the area.
"Hah. What a bunch of pussies. Those riots back in Los Angeles
were more exciting... Oh well, at least I teleported out of that inferno
when I... hey! How the hell did I get this far?"
The Visitor was puzzled. When the secondary bolt started to drop,
sheer panic had already shifted his reflexes into the teleportation kata.
An experimental martial art/mystical inroad the People's Liberation
Army were working on for use in the field. His frenzied motions held true
and reality had parted for him once again. But this time, something was
afoot. Instead of the ten- to fourteen-foot displacement he was used to,
the Visitor found himself several miles away from his original position.
And the expected teleportation sickness that always accompanied it
didn't kick in this time. Not that he was ungrateful or anything, but
when fighting a war, you had best damn well make sure you know your
equipment and the extent of its functions because surprises, as a rule of
thumb, tend to put Mr. Death in your pocket. The reality bolt was another
big shock. It usually left a crater about four feet in diameter and him
crawling out. This devastation was...
"...not my damn fault! Ah, hell. I'll figure it out later.
Right now I just want to sit down."
Dangling his feet over the ledge, the Visitor reached for the battered
LC-1 Alice pack and began to rummage through the assorted odds and ends he
had picked up over the years. A look of incredible happiness flew across
his grimy features as he pulled out an off-white steel canister about a
foot long and half a foot in diameter. The canister was a portable DNA
refrigerator he had come across in some unimportant bush war several
realities ago. This particular item bore the words ‘Level 6
Biohazard' in black and yellow stencil.
The Visitor checked the twist-lock and nodded when the seal appeared
to be unbroken. The battery charge was another matter. As it had not been
built for long-term storage the primary and secondary charges were depleted
to point that the Visitor judged the contents wouldn't last another
day.
"Oh well. Since I've kept this baby in deep freeze this
long, I doubt it'll keep anymore. Might as well open it up."
The canister was protected with a variety of redundant pressure seals.
And the Visitor's fingers struggled to trigger the depressurisation
switches. All that was left now, was for him to break the airtight gasket
and open the final lock. He did just that.
"Here's to coming back to this godforsaken hellhole of a
country," The Visitor mumbled as he bit into the last of his candy
bars.
"The last in my inventory... Now why the hell did Hershey's
have to tamper with something as perfect as the Bar None? I hope this place
has some bars with the original recipe and not the ones where they added
caramel..."
In the air, the sweet strains of Green Day's "Welcome to
Paradise" arose from his tinny first-generation Walkman. Life, for a
brief instant, seemed so perfect.
=====
Okay, that's done. I just hope people don't start thinking that "Here's
another weirdo crawling out from under his rock now that the Tybaltses are
gone..."
Send all C&C either to: khyrontang@antisocial.com or
fxavier@arachinc.com
Sorry about the stats thing... it was an accident, I swear!
_____________________________________________
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_____________________________________________
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