======================
AUTHOR�S NOTES

Hello, gang!

James here - otherwise known as "The Man With the Machine Gun," and man has 
it been a long time since I�ve posted!  This is my first time back on the 
FFML in a long time, and I must say ... it�s a bit empty.

But, I�ve seen a few old faces post and I�m trying to catch up on some 
stories that have come in (people are posting chapters up in the 20s now!  
Holy cow!)

Anyway, the reason I�m back is because I�ve recently decided to do a couple 
of fan fictions that I can think of no better place to share but here.  The 
first is an older fan fiction which I am currently re-writing pretty much 
from the ground up.  It is called �Twilight of the Dead� and is a Ranma 1/2 
crossover with George A. Romero�s unstoppable zombie trilogy -- Night of the 
Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead and Day of the Dead (and now Land of the Dead) 
and it is a story I haven't worked on since 1999-2000.

The need to know information (some spoilers for the manga within, perhaps) 
-- this is an alternate reality fiction set between volume 20 of the 
American graphic novel and the wedding that takes place at the end of the 
manga.  It is a dark fiction.  The prologue is comprised of American 
characters based on characters in Romero�s zombie classic.  Despite the 
Americans, I originally got some good C&C for this fiction, so I really want 
to revisit it.

About the format -- I sent a test e-mail to two of my e-mail accounts to see 
if it was formatted okay.  On hotmail, the story looked fine.  At excite, it 
looked like complete crap, so I�m including a link  to a text version on my 
website for those who want to read it but can�t stand the crummy word wrap 
on the story.

I need to drop in a shout out to Morgan Hudson here -- without him, this 
story never would have gotten past chapter one in its original form, and it 
really became a story I was writing for myself and him.  Hopefully, others 
will read the new version as I write it and like it.

C&C desired, yearned for, craved and needed.  Public or private, it doesn�t 
matter.  Tear the story apart or love it to the moon, I just want honest 
opinions. ^_^

Take care!

James
===================================================

===================================================
Twilight of the Dead -- Series I
A Ranma/Day of the Dead crossover

by J. Thomas Jeans

E-mail: spikerevell@excite.com
Webpage: http://www.angelfire.com/crazy/ranma_twilight/Prologue.txt

(NOTE: Read it at the link above if the formatting looks crappy in your 
e-mail.
Different e-mail accounts seem to display it differently.)
==================================================

"I Grieve"
Theme, Twilight of the Dead Series I


It was only one hour ago
It was all so different then
There's nothing yet has really sunk in
Looks like it always did
This flesh and bone
It's just the way that you were tied in
Now there's no-one home

I grieve for you
You leave me
It's so hard to move on
Still loving what's gone
They say life carries on
Carries on and on and on and on...

I grieve for you
You leave me
Let it out and move on
Missing what's gone
They say life carries on
They say life carries on and on and on

Life carries on
In the people I meet
In everyone that's out on the street
In all the dogs and cats
In the flies and rats
In the rot and the rust
In the ashes and the dust
Life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on...

Did I dream this belief?
Or did I believe this dream?
Now I can find relief
I grieve
---

[Lyrics and Song by Peter Gabriel]
==================================================



=============
PROLOGUE
=============


"400,000 to 1, Captain."

His voice noticeably trembled as he spoke.  He was irritated, to be sure,
but that wasn't the root of the problem.  The frustration had gotten bad, 
but
the fear was something much, much worse.  In times gone by he had always
maintained a certain level of calm in stressful situations.  However, it 
would
be going above, beneath, around and beyond the call of duty to maintain that
cucumber-cool in a situation so cripplingly frightening.

"We do not fair well against those odds," he continued, reaching up to rub 
the
back of his short, pudgy neck.  It was a nervous reflex, a habit formed 
years
before the man he spoke to was even born.

His thick, old skin was coated in sweat.  It left his stocky fingers feeling
oily and gross.  The compulsion to wipe his hand clean on his lab coat was
powerful but he fought it, maintaining steady eye contact with the man 
seated at
the table in front of him.  The reply he received was of the verity he 
expected.

"Are you telling me this because you think I don't know, McDermott?"

Captain Desmond Cooper stood slowly from his seat.  His brow tightened in
aggravation, but a thick mop of black hair hid the expression from view.  He
lay his palms on the table top and leaned forward, shifting the burden of 
his
weight from his lower body to his upper body.  The violent trembling in his
legs necessitated the extra aid in standing, but unlike the man whom he 
prepared
to verbally pounce, fear could not have been further from his mind.  It was
anger that sent the tremor through his body, an anger so intense that it was
intoxicating, a feeling well received and encouraged to remain, an honored
guest in a husk of a man normally filled with emotions and thoughts far less
passionate or honorable.

"Frankly, I don't give a goddamn what you have to say," Cooper continued,
maintaining an eerie sort of calm beneath the acid in his voice.  "I'm not
risking any more of my men so you can play with some other idiot's bullshit
ideas."

Doctor Everett McDermott adjusted his glasses, a long, frail sigh escaping 
his
smoke-scared windpipe.  His hand left a thin layer of sweat on the bridge of 
his
glasses and it gleamed in the ugly florescent light that filled the room.  
It
distracted him only slightly from Cooper's empty, cold eyes.  He tried not 
to
think about how they resembled the eyes of a dead man.

"You know you can not kill them all, Captain," McDermott said.

"We can try!" cried Lieutenant Joshua Johnson.  His voice was as devoid of
deeper intellect as a small child yelling at a difficult videogame.  He
chambered a cartridge in his army issue Beretta, a slightly unhinged laugh
bursting from his mouth and then dying away as quickly as it had erupted.  
He
dropped the gun to his hip and holstered it, leaving the safety clip 
unhooked.

Johnson was guilty of having a rather itchy trigger finger, and those who 
knew
him knew that it was best to simply avoid the topic of safety regulations 
when
engaging him in discussion.  His happy-go-lucky attitude toward weapons made
some people nervous, while others quietly joked about his unhealthy 
fascination.
He treated his fire arm almost as though it was a physical extensions of his 
own
body, as much a part of him as a foot or hand.

McDermott ignored the irritation caused by having to endure Johnson's 
unpleasant
voice, barely sparing him a glance.  He hesitated a moment before 
continuing,
struggling to maintain a constant lock on Cooper's dead hazel eyes.

"Dr. Logan was onto something with his research," McDermott said, "I am sure 
of
that.  Domestication is the key.  If we can somehow--"

"Can somehow what?" Cooper barked, circling the table slowly.  He 
unconsciously
kicked his chair out of the way as he went, sending it sliding across the 
room,
the sickly screech of metal on concrete accompanying it.  "Turn them into 
pets?
Teach them cute tricks?"

"Teach them to behave," McDermott said.  He followed Cooper's eyes with his 
own,
not allowing his gaze to falter.  He would not allow his eyes to waver, to
betray the fact that Cooper damn near terrified him.

"And at what price, McDermott?  The rotting corpses of my men as reward?"
Cooper's features grew dark, the calm in his voice replaced by a rising 
sense
of paranoia.  His eyes were piercing, unrelenting, but somehow still empty 
and
lifeless.  "I know what Logan did to the soldiers that were sent to 
facilitate
his experiments.  The man was a fucking lunatic."

Cooper's hand fell to the butt of his revolver.  It was an empty gesture,
something done by Cooper on a purely subconscious level.  His fingertips 
gripped
the weapon's sandalwood handle and deep down in the darkest part of his
subconscious, Cooper was aware that he was just as happy to pull lead as 
Joshua
Johnson, if not more so.

McDermott was unable to maintain Cooper's icy gaze.  His eyes fell to the
Captain's weapon and, for a shocking moment, he was certain his heart 
actually
stopped beating.  Would Cooper really draw his weapon in retaliation to a 
line
of thinking he did not agree with and refused to understand?

It was very possible, McDermott decided.  Since encountering Cooper and his
entourage, he had found the Captain to be anything but reasonable and, at 
times,
flat out obtuse.  His ability to open his mind to concepts outside the 
standard
lines of thinking was disheartening.  McDermott often wondered if that 
inability
could become dangerous.

"I don't plan on letting you do the same thing to me, McDermott," Cooper 
said,
walking suddenly over to the table at which Joshua Johnson sat.  He felt 
dizzy,
his head filled with fire and brimstone.  Too many contrary thoughts were
pulling at one another, like two people captured in a Chinese finger trap.  
It
felt like his mind might rip itself apart if they fought for too much 
longer.
He jerked a chair away from the table and sat, his legs trembling violently.

Johnson snorted his agreement with Cooper's line of thinking, but hardly 
spared
Cooper a glance when he sat, having found something much more interesting to
maintain his attention in the form of reloading an empty clip.  He turned 
his
head slightly, his eyes steadfast on the task at hand.  What sounded like a
small engine began to vibrate inside his throat and after a few seconds of 
this,
his lips curled up and away from his teeth in a snarl.  He spat a large wad 
of
yellow-white goo onto the floor.  The sound of impact was like a rotted 
melon
squashed against concrete.

"Christ," Kelly Preston huffed in disgust, turning her head away from the
filthy wad of sputum.  It landed very near her feet, and she thought his
intention had probably been to soil her footwear.  That line of thinking was
very close to accurate -- he had been aiming at her, but he didn't much care
where it landed so long as it struck home.  Luckily for her he was a fairly
piss-poor aim.

Kelly's eyes, aqua blue with brilliant green specks, shifted to Evan 
Rembrandt.
He sat quietly in the chair next to her, his face having drained slightly of 
its
natural peach hue.  When he noticed she was looking at him, he offered her 
his
best reassuring smile.  It was none too convincing.

James Quinn and Adam Brendan, the two remaining soldiers in Cooper's regime, 
sat
opposite Rembrandt and Kelly.  Neither of them could bring themselves to 
meet
the Captain's eyes, and Brendan thought that it was probably best that they
didn't attempt it.

Kelly sighed, finally unable to abide the silence any longer.  She looked 
around
the room, her gaze moving quickly from person to person, eyes sunken in her
small, pale face.  Her once attractive features had succumb to the cruelness 
of
fatigue, and the passing of time had proven to be none too kind when coupled
with lack of sleep and provisions.

"This bickering is childish," Kelly said, finally turning her eyes on 
Cooper.
"It's getting us absolutely nowhere."

"I don't plan on letting your boss here endanger my men," Cooper said, 
jabbing a
finger in McDermott's direction.  "Do you understand me?"

His eyes lingering on Kelly in a way that made her uncomfortable.  She 
shifted
uneasily in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.  She did it
unconsciously, shielding herself from Cooper's penetrating stare in the same
way someone might bundle a coat to fend off a chilled breeze.  A shiver ran 
down
Kelley's spine.

McDermott shook his head.  "The danger is limited.  Tokyo is all but 
abandoned,
Captain.  The people within the main city have evacuated and most of those
things have moved on.  They're scattered, weak."

"That's part of the reason I don't understand this mission."

All faces turned toward Quinn.  It made him uneasy, so many sets of eyes
pressing in, smothering him.  His own face was scruffy and he looked 
slightly
emaciated, and why not?  After all, a lack of proper rations would do that 
to a
person.  It was no secret that Second Lieutenant Joshua Johnson made a habit 
of
commandeering rations off of him, citing the fact that Quinn was the 
youngest
member of the squadron as reason enough to deny him sustenance.

"This is supposed to be a search and rescue op," continued Quinn, turning 
his
attention to McDermott.  "I'm sorry, Doc, but we weren't sent to collect the
Spooks."

"Exactly." Cooper stood up and walked over to a wall map of Tokyo.  He 
stared at
it for a longtime,  then turned suddenly and gestured toward the scientists.
"We weren't sent here to help you three yo-yos teach these to be good little
boys and girls.  You were just lucky that we found you, that's all."

"But that doesn't change the fact that Tokyo is empty," said Quinn.

Kelly's eyes drifted to a thin manila folder that lay neatly in front of
Cooper's original sitting spot.  It was not the first time that night she 
had
noticed it, and in fact she had seen Cooper carrying it on many previous 
nights.
"You weren't just sent here to search and rescue, were you?  You're here for 
a
specific group of people.  That's why you took us in so readily.  You 
thought we
might have seen them during our time here."

Cooper turned sharply and in two quick steps was back to where he was 
sitting
when he started the meeting off, arguing with McDermott over matters which 
held
little or no relevance toward the task with which he had been assigned.

Swooping the folder up in his hand, Cooper tossed it across the room.  It 
landed
on the table in front of Kelly and slid to a halt inches from the edge, only
narrowly avoiding spilling its contents in her petite lap.

"I might as well fill you in so you can make yourselves useful," Cooper 
said.
"A small group of survivors have been reported in one of the sub-districts 
of
this city.  Since the crisis began, they've killed an undetermined number of
those things.  Or so the bigwigs tell us."

Johnson pocketed a handful of freshly loaded clips and said, "And they do it
without guns.  Bastard's go out weaponless, far as we can tell."

"Well of course they don't use guns," Rembrandt said, speaking up for the 
first
time since the meeting began.

In the short time since Cooper's unit had come across their group, Rembrandt 
had
grown exceedingly tetchy, especially when Joshua Johnson was concerned.  He 
had
not liked Johnson from the get go, but seeing the way Johnson treated his 
fellow
soldiers, particularly James Quinn, sealed the deal entirely.

"Guns are illegal in Japan," Rembrandt continued, "Just about as illegal as
carrying around heroin in America."

"Keep cracking wise, smart ass!" Johnson bellowed, pointing a beefy finger 
in
the scientist's direction. "I'll shut that hole in your head for good, you 
piece
of--"

Cooper slammed a hand down on the table. "If you don't shut up right now, 
I'll
shoot the pair of you!" He paused for a moment, then continued right along 
with
his original speech.  "The point is, we want to know how they've managed to 
hold
out for so long.  The top brass wants to try to get them on a paying basis, 
you
see.  Put them to use in something a little more focused than what they've 
been
doing."

Kelly opened the folder slowly and thumbed carefully through its contents.
There were fact sheets for five or six individuals, all of them sporting 
rather
badly taken photographs.  None of them seemed familiar to her initially, but 
the
last file in the folder halted her.

The picture was of a young man.  His build was slim and muscular, an athlete
possibly.  What caught her attention, though, was his long, dark hair. It 
was
tied in a slightly crooked pigtail.  The photo was paper clipped to a second
one. In it was a young red-headed girl that looked strikingly similar to the
young man.  Kelly wondered if they were brother and sister, possibly twins.

"I've seen this guy before," she said, her mind grasping for recognition, 
some
event that directly preceded the crisis, something to associate his face 
with.
It suddenly occurred to her where she knew him from, and her face took on a
slightly dream-like quality.  She reached out and ran a fingertip over his
photo.

Kelly had been living in Japan for six months before the crisis began.  She 
was
fast to become a fan of the local news programs.  Japanese news casters were 
far
more entertaining, to her mind, than the stodgy old men who delivered the 
news
in America.  She wasn't sure that they were actually less boring, but she
certainly didn't avoid watching the news as she had in her home country.

Three months before the crisis started, there were several stories on her
favorite news program about the young man in the photo. It featured a group 
of
his peers and he.  Kelly had found the story interesting because she only 
lived
two neighborhoods over from their hometown.

"He was a local hero in Tokyo before the crisis," Kelly said.  Her voice 
sounded
to her own ears muddled and very far off, as though she was speaking through 
a
telephone with water on the lines.

"And six months later, he and his friends are still alive.  Or at least the 
top
brass thinks they might be."  Cooper walked back to the map and looked up at 
it,
his eyes once again dancing across its surface, moving with the speed of a 
rat
navigating hot coals. "In 24 hours, Quinn and Brendan are going to head up 
the
initial hunt.  Weston will take them out in the helicopter, and this is 
their
first destination." He reached up and pressed his finger against a section
labeled 'Nerima.'

"I take it you all know Japanese?" he asked McDermott, looking at the 
scientist.
He cocked a curious eyebrow, a sour grin turning the corners of his mouth 
up.
He looked to Kelly like a rabid animal, ready for the opportunity to strike.

"Fluently," McDermott confirmed. "And your men?"

"Of course they do!" Cooper barked, turning fully toward the rest of the 
group,
his hands clamped to either side of his hipbone like an over wound vice.  
His
voice dripped acid, and Kelly thought he had been baiting McDermott, looking 
for
an excuse to blow up.  "Do you think they would have been sent on this 
tits-up
mission otherwise?"

McDermott only shrugged, refusing to be baited.  "Even if these people can 
help,
you can't honestly expect them to rid the entire planet of these creatures."

"I don't," Cooper said, pausing.  "I expect him to tell us how he does it.  
How
his friends do it."

"I suppose they eat their leafy greens," Rembrandt said, crossing his arms 
over
his chest in a way that Cooper, tense as he was, might have considered to be
insubordinate in one of his own men.  "And what if he won't cooperate?"

"Tokyo is under martial law."  Cooper smiled slightly.  The malice hidden
beneath his suddenly cheery expression was unmistakable.  "If he won't
cooperate, I'll have him executed."

Kelly was yanked from her daydream so suddenly she gasped, startled not only 
by
Cooper's intentions but by just how far gone she was only moments before.  A
deep malaise lingered heavily in her heart, the inability to let go of days 
gone
by leaving her open to bouts of melancholy.

"Under whose authority?" she demanded.

"Mine." Cooper walked out from behind the table, stopping in the center of 
the
room.  He turned toward the stunned faces that watched him uncertainly and a
sense of overwhelming pride filled him. They were all terrified of him, he 
knew
it, and it made him extremely giddy.

"Our law doesn't apply to the Japanese," Rembrandt said, his tone no longer
annoyed. It had changed to something Kelly was unfamiliar with in her 
long-time
colleague --  he sounded furious.  "You're just a low-level American 
soldier.
You don't have that kind of authority here, Captain."

Cooper's dead eyes finally seemed to come to life.  A sick glee shone in 
those
hazel orbs and it petrified McDermott.  "As far as the citizens of Tokyo are
concerned, we're here on behalf of a joint venture arranged by both our
government and theirs."

This got the attention of all three of Cooper's remaining officers, even
Johnson.  As offended as the thought of scruples were to him, he understood
when a shit storm was brewing.  He could definitely feel electricity in the
air, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Quinn opened his mouth to speak, but Brendan cut him off.  "That's 
completely
immoral, Captain.  How can you expect any of us to go along with something 
like
that?"

"Because I'm in charge, Private, and don't you forget it."

Quinn once again tried to speak, but Brendan held out a hand to quiet him.
Quinn's questioning face was greeted with no kind of explanation as Brendan
stood from his chair. "I can't go along with this, Captain.  It just isn't
right.  I think you know that, too."

"I wouldn't count on that," McDermott said.  He tried to will Brendan back 
into
his chair despite the fact that it flew in the face of the science he 
dedicated
himself to.  Something bad was going to happen and it left him feeling numb 
and
helpless.

"That's a declaration of mutiny," Cooper said, his wanderlust gaze homing in 
on
Brendan.  His eyes burned with rage.  It was an amazing contrast to his 
usual
dead gaze, both frightening and intriguing all at once.

"Yes sir, I suppose it is," Brendan said, standing at attention, preparing
himself to be dismissed or, at worst, arrested for treason.  He didn't fancy 
the
idea of being locked up until they returned to the States, but the idea of
manipulating people who were simply trying to survive turned his stomach and
sickened his soul.  He would have no part in it.

Kelly had never felt more ill at ease.  She, like McDermott and Johnson, 
could
feel the tension in the room growing.  It pressed in around her like a mid-
summer heat wave, making her feel as though she might suffocate before it
finally ebbed.  Then the explosion came, and all thoughts of mounting 
tension
washed from her mind.

The percussion reverberated off the concrete walls, filling her head with a 
pain
too intense to comprehend.  She threw her hands over her ears and let out a
scream.  It was a small sound, not even comparable to the noise that less 
than a
second earlier assaulted her synapses.

She wondered where the sound could have come from.  There was only a small
generator powering the building, and it supplied energy enough to run the
light system.  The gas, water and electricity had all failed soon after the
crisis.

When she finally realized that the explosion came from inside the meeting
room, a look of horror twisted her withered face.  It didn't matter that her
chair toppled when she leapt from it, nor did it matter that Rembrandt was
reaching madly to hold her back.

"NO!" Kelly screamed, watching horrified as Brendan dropped to his knees.

The gaping cavity in his trunk billowed smoke, the slug burning the hair on 
his
chest as it entered.  A single hand reached helplessly for the wound, but 
Kelly
could see the emptiness in his eyes.  His body reacted to the impact, but he 
was
dead before he fell.

Cooper watched Kelly, his face absolutely beaming.  A wavy puff of blue 
smoke
rose from the barrel of his revolver.  The smell of ignited gunpowder was 
strong
in his nose and he loved it ever so much.  There was something primal in 
that
odor.  It empowered him, made him feel like a dominant specimen.

"So," Cooper said, holding his gaze on Kelly, "does anyone else have a 
problem
with how I run things?"

"You can't do this, Cooper!" Kelly screamed, leaning over the table toward 
him.
She wanted to reach out and hit him, to knock that gleeful look off his 
stupid
round face.

Cooper pulled the gun around slowly, the barrel sighted on Kelly's head. 
"Sit
down and shut up.  You've got until the count of five, then I blow your cunt
brains all over your scientist friends."

"You listen to me you asshole," Kelly said, unable to control the anger that
burned in the pit of her stomach.  "We're a civilian operation, sanctioned 
by
the Japanese government.  We were sent here to research the plague.  You've 
got
no authority over us."

"That's three you've wasted," Cooper said, cocking the revolver's hammer.

"Kelly, shut up and sit down," Quinn said, standing suddenly from his chair.

Kelly looked at Quinn and recognized the terror in his eyes.  That wasn't 
all,
though.  They were pleading with her as well, begging her to get control of
herself and put her bony butt back in her seat.  She looked back at Cooper,
suddenly dumbstruck.

"That's 4," Cooper growled.

McDermott stared at Cooper, unable to believe what just happened.  Rembrandt
shared in McDermott's unspoken horror, and even Johnson was affected to the
point of silence.  He stared at the body of Private Adam Brendan, unable to 
peel
his eyes away from the corpse of his fallen comrade.

Kelly bent down, pulled her chair back onto its legs and sat.  She could 
feel
her heart beating wildly in her chest.  Her excited pulse made the side of 
her
temples pound in unison with her heart.  She suddenly felt very weak, like 
she
might pass out.

Quinn also sat, eyes on Cooper.  He refused to let himself see Brendan's 
body,
for fear he might lose his own composure entirely.  Over the course of their
tour together they had seen a lot of disturbing things.  Having his field
partner shot to death while sitting a foot away from him was not something 
on
Quinn's list of expected occurrences.

Cooper un-cocked the gun's hammer and stuffed it into its holster. "I'm 
running
the show, see?  Anyone who fucks with my commands will be shot.  Is that
perfectly clear?"

A hush fell over the room and there was scattered head-nodding.  Cooper 
walked
to his table, scooped up his jacket, carried it over to Brendan's corpse, 
knelt
down and laid the coat over his body.  He made sure to cover the Private's
shocked face.

"It looks like you'll be heading out with Johnson tomorrow," Cooper said,
looking at Quinn.  "Never mind, we continue as planned.  In 24 hours, you 
move
in to search the Nerima sub-district of Tokyo."

Cooper pulled his revolver and once again cocked the hammer.  "And you don't
come out until you've found Ranma Saotome.  Understood?"

Quinn nodded.

Cooper smiled, maintaining Quinn's gaze as he fired the revolver one final 
time.
Brendan's head was eviscerated, soaking the forest green jacket in radiant
crimson.

"Meeting adjourned."

================
PROLOGUE END
================

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