I'm back. For those of you who tried to read the post Neko sent, I'm sorry I had her send it in RTF format.
Also, this does not _currently_ take place in the BGC universe. However, the main character _is_ from BGC. Later in the story arc he goes back home...
This is _not_ a self-insert. Sharr is a viable character I created many years ago, but slightly reformatted to fit this story.
One last note, this version is exactly the newest. I'm still working on it at home. All c&c would be appreciated.
------------------------------
Tales of the Dragon
-/\/\- 7/11/99
-Chapter 1
------------------------------
Cortes shielded her weary ice-blue eyes against the hot sun reflecting off the glistening desert. She
stood in the middle of what used to be one of the most advanced laboratories in the world, equaling or
exceeding beyond better funded institutions. Now it was a burning heap of slag and plastic, a wasted spot
of earth in the most desolate spot on Terra. As she watched two of the younger men digging through the
wasted building, she spoke to an older mercenary with thinned gray hair, dancing electronically enhanced
green eyes, and a gencomp attacked to the back of his arm. Their personal standard operating procedure
was him pecking at it as she questioned him, calling up the answers nearly as fast as she needed them. "Do
we know what happened?"
He looked up from the gencomp, "Other than stating the obvious that it looks like a bomb, I'll start
with the area. There's a specific warp in electromagnetic fields. It looks like the thing that really killed it was
a dramatic anti-matter implosion. After that temporary vacuum, everything exploded outwards. That's my
best guess."
She nodded thoughtfully, "No bomb can do that, Gene. At least, none that I know of."
"It could have been that ultimate weapon he was talking about, sir."
"It could have been... except that he was working on a mecha, not a bomb. Remember, I showed
you the plans."
"Yes sir. There's another reason it might have been a bomb. Smith found evidence that someone
was dragged away from this area. The tracks are lost about two k-metes out 'cause of a sand-storm."
"When did he report that?"
"Just a few minutes ago, by gencomp. He's come back on the skimmer."
"Alright." She glanced around, "I want everyone out of here in an hour. We're going back to
camp. I want Red in a charlie, patrolling the area three to four k-metes radius, around base. If we lose
contact with him, he heads back. If he loses it with us, he goes Base3... and put J' on the same patrol,
different charlie."
"Yes sir. Where will you be?"
"Little ladies room."
It took slightly less than the allotted hour to pack up and move out. It seemed the team was quite
eager to leave the area as they found it. Blood thirsty ex-marine mercenaries the lot of them might have
been, they were still superstitious sailors. Being that long around an area so completely devoid of life was
very nerve-wracking, no matter _who_ you were.
Red and J' were by no means eager to patrol the encampment, not that they had a choice.
Darkness was falling fast over the area, and the hovering crafts nicknamed 'charlies' would draw more
attention then was necessary. But they hopped into two separate vehicles and lifted off with little
complaint.
While Red and J' were patrolling the area outside the encampment, Cortes was ruthlessly patrolling
the camp, watching and judging the newest members of her small unit. With Gene at her side like an extra
limb, she was able to quickly record her opinions within the company database, where her two partners
could make their own judgments based on the evidence. If two of the three disfavored a certain individual,
he was fired from their tight little operation; fired without sharing any booty from whatever mission he just
happened to be on.
There were, of course, more than just Cortes' team. Nico and Wren led their own teams, each
separated into two to three sub-teams. This led for an effective force that even a powerful army would have
had to contend with. Luckily enough, for the current US Government, TriOp based their operations in the
Americas and refused contracts against the United States. The reason was simply that the government
made a deal not to tax or hinder their movements as long as they stayed allied and cut deals whenever
possible.
Two of the younger recruits were telling stories over a bottle of beer, laughing a great deal. With a
frown, Cortes made a notation in her comp before making her way over to the two. Cortes may have
seemed small physically, but she possessed a strength no-one was known to have matched. Both men
blanched as they saw her coming towards them, but stayed in their positions.
"What are you men doing?"
"Just sharing a bottle, sir," the first man replied nervously, eyeing his companion. "Is there
something you need us to do?"
"Yes..." she began, but Gene interrupted the start of what was likely to be a tirade.
"Sir? Red just reported seeing a man dragging what looks like a corpse towards our camp. Should
we set up an alert?"
Cortes frowned at the two, "I'll take care of you later." She turned to Gene, "Yes, set up two
guards each around the camp. Which direction is he coming from?"
"North west."
"I want a team of three to go out and meet him. In fact, get Hardy and Drew over here. I'll go out
and meet the stranger."
Gene had learned from long experience not to argue with Cortes. Instead, he alerted the two men
she asked for. After a quick check-over, the three went out into the night on two small skimmers.
It took maybe a half-hour to locate the man. He may have been the only warm blood on the
dessert at night, and would normally have shone like a beacon to heat sensors, but night had just fallen, and
the sand was still cooling. When he saw Cortes, the man crashed to the dirt, "Thank god! I knew someone
was out here when I saw the charlies flying around!"
"Do you need assistance?"
"Me? Not really, just a phone to call my wife and get her to pick me up. I live near here," he
pointed westward, "Just about five k's. But this guy here do. I think 'ee's still alive, but I ain't sure." He
propped the figure up.
Cortes leaned down on one knee, "What happened?"
"Ya know that explosion at Crazy man 'Hue's place? The scientist? I found this guy in the
wreckage. Only thing that wan't torn to smithereens."
Cortes' eyes widened, "What were you doing there?"
"Me? I ship things to Hue. Food and stuff. I went by there t'day to drop some stuff off, and on
the way out, the building... well... I don't know how to explain it. It kinda glowed for a second or two, then
kinda sucked itself into itself. It tried sucking me in to, but dragged me into a sand dune. My truck weren't
so lucky.
'After I dug myself out, I went to see what happened, and all I could find was this kid."
Cortes frowned, "Alright. You need a lift home, eh? Drew, Hardy, take the boy back to base with
that skimmer. I'll take the second and take this guy home. When I get back I want the kid on a cot in my
room, hear?"
"Yes sir!" Hardy replied. Without waiting further commands, the two lifted the boy into the back
of the truck, groaning slightly. "God he's heavy!" Hardy complained once Cortes had left.
"I know! Think the skimmer'll take it?"
"He ain't _that_ heavy, Drew. But we better be careful anyways." They finally lifted the boy into
the back of the skimmer, then headed back to base, ignoring the thunder of Red and J's charlies hovering in
the air.
End Chapter One
----------------------------
------------------------------
Tales of the Dragon
-/\/\- 7/32/99
-Chapter 2
------------------------------
The anger of a small woman cannot be measured by the normal terms most people subscribe to.
This is a fact, in that small women are notorious for their abilities in a fight, being both fast and smart. Even
so, some women you simply do not want to cross, especially if that woman tends to head a group of
international mercenaries known for their blood-thirst and difficulty to defeat in battle.
Of course, the famed robot specialist Grewicca was not known for any measure of common sense,
even if he did have the second highest IQ in the country. This was why, after receiving a curious droid from
the mercenary leader known only as Cortes, Grewicca refused to allow her access to it, considering the new
robot his personal property.
It had happened, that the day after Cortes found the two men in the dessert, and took one back to
camp for clinical treatment, and the other back to his home, her team had discovered that the boy was a
mere droid. But after Gene's amazement at the droid's deceiving life-like appearances (which was quite
illegal) and the amount of power evidently contained within its humanoid frame, Cortes decided to take it to
leading robot specialist, to see just what exactly this droid _was_.
Cortes now stood before the pompous man in a business room that stood at the very top of a good
sized sky-scraper.. It was decorated with mainly a stone motif, with high, vaulting windows that let the
afternoon's light brighten the otherwise grim interior. Grewicca stood before his desk, looking out over a
green field that stretched for over eight kilometers in every direction.
Cortes slammed her tiny fist into the hardwood of the desk, leaving a remarkable dent in the
surface. "I hired you, Grewicca, not to steal my property, but to discover what exactly that droid _is_! So
what's the idea of cutting of my access!?"
Without turning his considerable bulk away from the pleasing sight, he replied, "You never
expressed a desire for it to be returned, Cortes. So, I simply exerted my authority as the droid's discoverer.
When I have learned all its secrets, than you may by it back from me. After full payment is received of
course for the trouble I went through." He smirked, self-assured of his victory over the small woman.
Cortes made no effort to control her fury, "Why you over-pompous fard! I _paid_ you to look at
_my_ robot! Nothing more! I never gave the beast to you, nor to I intend to buy it back!"
"The 'beast' is in my science building, girl." He turned around to face her gazing down at her with
narrowed eyes. "Unless you plan on taking my droid by force there's nothing you can do. And for taking it
by force," he laughed, "There's nothing you could throw at my troupes that they wouldn't laugh off!"
Silver eyes flickered in the darkness, confused tones echoed in the tent. Arguments? Footsteps
shuffle to the door, a ear strains to listen.
"Laugh off... me?" Cortes' face settled into a grim smile. "I hope you have a gravestone ready,
Grewicca." Where most mercenaries would have simply left, amused with the scientist's bravado, Cortes
wished to add slightly more to her point, "We can storm this building so quickly and easily you wouldn't be
able to blink your eyes before you had forty autos in you face." She was about to turn, when movement
from a nearby door caught her eye. Startled, Grewicca turned as well.
The man standing in the doorway to Grewicca's lab was perhaps a little over six feet. Wiry muscles
slid over his arms and legs like nobody's business, he stood with an easy stance that Cortes recognized
immediately to be a trained fighter's. His skin was a dark bronze, it shone in the afternoon light from one of
the two meter windows. His hair was a dark brown, with a single flare of white stretching out from over his
left eyebrow, to the back, where his hair fell to his shoulders. The shape to his eyes and face were
noticeably of Asian descent. But most stunning of all were the eyes. Silver irises danced in a quicksilver
mixture. The pupils were thin, catlike, but deep.
"The droid..." Cortes whispered, eyes widened and shocked... she's thought he was...
"Deactivated!" Grewicca cried, "Cortes, you said it was deactivated!"
The droid turned cold eyes towards Grewicca, "Droid? Do I look like a fucking robot to you?"
"Damn straight!" Grewicca growled, "How the hell are you moving you tin-plated piece of fard!?"
In one smooth move, the droid had crossed the room and had Grewicca by the throat of his suit,
"Wrong answer. I ain't no buma... it is an insult to call someone buma, you know."
"What he means," Cortes interjected smoothly, placing her hand on the droid's arm, "Is that you're
not human."
"Hell? Of course I'm human. "
"Proof." Cortes said, before quickly cutting into the droid's arm with her pocket knife. Without a
single glance, the droid had caught the knife in its hand, but the blade still bit, shedding a thin pool of liquid
into the palm before snapping clean off at the hilt.
All three stared at the blood, but for obviously different reasons. Cortes and Grewicca stared at the
blood, somehow instinctively knowing it _was_ blood, and not a ruby colored oil. But the boy was staring,
his eyes unfocused, for he'd just broken a knife without any semblance of exertion.
"Dear lord... you're bleeding..." Grewicca murmured, "Only humans..."
"How can you be human with the amount of energy you carry around?" Cortes exclaimed.
The boy threw Grewicca onto the floor, and glared at him. "I'm a martial artist. It _is_ what I do."
"I see." she gave him a cryptic glance, "But it doesn't matter... whatever and whoever you are, I
suggest we leave now before Grewicca here," she kicked the downed man, "Decides to do something
stupid."
At the mention of his name, Grewicca tried stumbling to his feet. Cortes' kick sent him back down,
but managed to protest, "You will not leave! This creature is unique! I will not..." he finally managed to
stand, "...let it leave!" He ripped open the hatch to his gencomp, typing in a code as fast he could.
"Just watch us," Cortes motioned to the still silent boy, "You coming?"
He gazed at her, "I see no reason why I should follow you... but I see no greater reason why I
should not." He looked around at the room. "Where are we going, miss...?"
"Cortes." she replied. "We're going back to my camp." She turned about and walked to the
elevator. "Don't try anything, Grewicca."
"I warned you," he replied calmly, turning back around to gaze at the fields. "You will die before
you leave this place."
Grewicca spoke only truth. Barely had they left the elevator when an advanced weapon attacked
them, plasma cannons full and blazing. Cortes, having palmed a small gun in her hand, fired back rapidly,
but the shots simply bounced off an energy shield. The boy, however, reacted differently. Being the
trained fight, he reacted to instincts, jumping and evading the bursts of hot liquid-like energy. He advanced
towards the droid, and suddenly with his right hand glowing a deep azure, traced a simple line against the
front of the droid's chest. He then ricocheted off the droid as if it were standing still.
All this took place within seconds, not enough time for the droid to strategize or react, but it did
blow up nicely. By this time, more of the droids had reacted, their cannons blazing like miniature suns. The
boy used them each as a springboard to get to another, tracing a blue line across torsos, arms, and heads.
Where-ever he traced the blue fire, metal and plastic ripped itself apart at the cellular levels, creating rather
spectacular explosions.
At the end, the hallway was littered with half-melted slag, ruptures, and various metallic body
parts. Cortes put her hand pistol back into her side-case, and glanced at the shocked young man,
"Impressive. What was that?"
"I'm a martial artist... I react instinctively... and my instincts told me to do this... its like when I
broke that knife... what happened to me?" He was gazing at his hands, a slightly confused light echoing in
the amazing glowing mercury eyes. He glanced at Cortes, face settling into a suddenly familiar
dispassionate expression, "Let's go."
They achieved camp by sunset, having walked nearly 2 k-metes. They'd fought, together, several
droids, only to find Cortes' charlie, and its pilot and crew, slagged. This did not make for a very pleasant
mercenary leader. The man wasn't talkative at first, but the more questions she asked, the more he opened
up. But, even after the walk was over, he was still seemingly cold.
The group had consigned her long dead after the fire-fight at Grewicca's fortress. In fact, the
scientist had boldly claimed she'd been slain by his hands, and the droid was inoperational. The small
mercenary group quickly prepared an retaliation to such an action when Cortes showed up out of the blue
with the 'bot.
Effusive 'Thanks God's went around the camp, but preparations continued to assault Grewicca's
tower. Cortes approved and applauded the plans. The droid, it was decided, was to sleep in Cortes' own
quarters, since she was very curious about it. By this time, of course, the droid seemed wearied.
It was mostly dark, and they had both settled into her cabin before she ventured another question
at him, "So, tiger... what do you remember?"
"You're prepared for a story?" the silver-eyed man replied, his tone grave, but his eyes dancing
slightly. He took off his shirt, a green relic whose time was past, "Alright, my name is Sharr Machusak. I
was born in New York in the year 2010. My father was the world's most renown, some said greatest,
martial artist. My mother was a renown archeologist known for her discoveries in Asia. My father,
Matteson Machusak, was killed in a car wreck on the way to my birth, it took him over a week to die, and he
was conscious almost the entire time."
She watched interest as he slid into his bed-roll, "Shit, that must have sucked."
He shrugged. "I never knew my father, Cortes. I have a great respect for the man Diego and my
mother told me about, but I never met him. Anyway, mom's grief was apparently to great to bear me being
around, a constant reminder of what she had lost. She handed me to my grandparents, who raised me until
I was about three, when my father's best friend and greatest rival, Diega, took me in and began to train me in
my father's art; a powerful and sometimes dark martial art form. The school had only two students at a
time. Once, long ago, it was my father and Diega. For fourteen years it was myself and Diega.
'He trained me in the arts until I was seventeen, then we went to Tokyo, where I moved back in
with my mother, whom I barely knew. We got off to a rocky start, but eventually came to know each other
very well. It is then I met Kelley, who became my only friend. It is she who sparked my interest in the
sciences, and she taught me. "
"Of course, always the girl."
He frowned at her, then switched off the light. His face still glowed due to his odd eyes, and he
seemed slightly surprised. "Uh...yeah. Anyway, like I said, Kelly was my only friend for three years.
Everyone else..." he grinned malevolently in the darkness, "Decided I was too dangerous. Of course,
critically wounding one of my teachers when he challenges me doesn't exactly inspire courage in other staff
and students, hmm?"
Cortes smiled as well, mostly from the boy's smug tone. "Go on."
"The next three years were quiet compared to the whole of my life. I became famous in
certain circles for my fighting style. I joined a local college for courses in literature and history and
some mathematics. After I mastered the basics, it was easy enough to ascend to other levels. All I had to
do was equate these new experiences to my martial arts knowledge. A form of adaptation, learning an
opponents weaknesses and manipulating them. These gave me the ability to over-come nearly all the
obstacles in my path.
'I say 'nearly', mind, because some obstructions couldn't be just paved over by determination and
brute force. More than once I had to fall upon Kelly, Diega, or even my mother for support." He caught
her eyes, "If you will, Cortes, try to imagine a life with little emotional support, where you learn early on to
hide your emotions until the point where they seem not to exist at all. Then, take your life an add a family."
His face contorted, for he was trying to enthuse a point on her, "It's difficult to explain the emotional
turmoil I faced every day living with the woman who I had felt had deserted me. At first it was an uneasy
truce, until I grew to know her. It took more than a year for me to learn to love that woman, to see past the
faults into the heart my father loved at first sight.
'All that time, Kelley was my rock, although I doubt she'd believe it. I depended on her support a
great deal. Kelley taught me things about life you don't learn seventeen years on the road with a
man you barely know." He sighed softly, "Those three years may have been the most physically quiet, but
they were the most learning and trying times of my life. I learned to be more than an unnaturally good
fighter; I learned to be human. True, even now my behavior seems cold, but at least I can now speak to
people without instantly analyzing them for weak points."
"Quite interesting... but if you were in...Tokyo? How'd you get _here_?"
"I don't know... I honestly can't tell you... I cannot even begin to express knowledge of how it
happened. It was a stormy Tuesday night. I had just dropped Kelley off at her home, and was headed to
my mother's apartment. As I drove my motorcycle beneath an underpass, I felt this weird shifting, as if I
had
crashed and was going unconscious... Then the world exploded. The rest you know, Cortes."
"Maybe." She closed her eyes, "So, how'd you get mixed up the way you did?"
"Have you ever heard that two objects cannot exist in the same place at the same time?"
"Mm hmm." Cortes assented.
Dragon frowned slightly, "I think I tried to exist in the same place and time as the weapon that man
you hired was building. When I did that, I was fused with it completely, while everything around me was
caught in a tremendous explosion. Or... implosion, trying to fill in the void I had created. The only reason
_I_ didn't die, was I was basically at the focal point of the void, combined with the weapon, and my martial
experience. Without those advantages, I dare-say, I would have been killed."
"And so," Cortes murmured, "The metallic content of the weapon was fused and redirected into
the form of a human, yourself, and a new creation was borne to this planet. Humanoid, but with every
organic or semi-organic molecule transferred into its counterpart in metal."
"I guess so. But how does that explain those weird plasma abilities I showed back at Grewicca's
building?"
"Our 'mad scientist' was working on a very powerful weapon, with unique forms of weapons. If I
recall correctly, he called it the 'Dragon', and it had a plasma-meson based energy projectile called the
'dragons breath'. It had a couple of others, but I can't recall them. I don't think that blue power was in the
report."
"I like that," he murmured absently, "Dragon. I'm a Dragon... Sharr Machusak, the Dragon..."
With these thoughts in mind, they both drifted into a restful sleep.
End Chapter Two
---------------------------
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-/\/\- myrriden out
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