Dave lay back in his bed.  Smoke drifted up from
between his lips.  The purple rhino was crowded into a
corner.  Dave was just staring at the ceiling.  His
J-pop collection #2, (post relationship depression
mix), played in the background.  He had long thought
about making a third mix tape, but he couldn't find
J-pop about anything beside pre-mid relationship love
and ending-post relationship trauma songs.  He
couldn't even find normal pop about something else. 
Maybe it was about time to try something new.

"Sherm..," he drawled, "what is the most depressing
song that you have stored in your audio banks?"  A
small monitor lit up, and a list of song titles flew
by as Sherman analyzed its files.

"I am not sure I am one who would comprehend your
emotions, Dave."  Sherman's voice crackled over the
room's speakers.  "However, I could suggest to you
what Vixen listens to when she isn't genki."  A small
playlist of mpeg format 5 tracks were listed on the
screen.

Dave lazily lifted his head and stared at the names. 
"Hey... this is the original Bubblegum Crisis
soundtrack.. but what is that at the end?"  He
squinted at the last track on the list.  "Slayers Next
- Otome no Inari?"  His bloodshot eyes widened.

"I might point out," Sherman mentioned, "that
whenever Vixen has listened to the final track, she
immediately exits and begins to destroy the
surrounding landscape.  It may not be the effect you
desired."  Dave hmmmmed.

"What about the songs by those weird looking bands..
you know, the ones who wear all the makeup and
costumes?"  Dave remembered seeing burnt posters in
the remains of Otakuland.  "Uhm..." Dave uhmned,
trying to remember a band name.  "Malice Blender?"  He
took another drag on the joint.

"Malice Mizer?" Sherman questioned.  "A Visual type
band, popular with fans of that genre.  Best known for
being what the Americans at that time would label
'gothic' music."  Dave sat up straight in his bed.

There was a gothic Japanese group?  Gothic...
fleeting images of Rachael drifted like ghosts through
his head.  Why had he learned now? He could have let
her listen to it, it could have been something...
something for them to share.  Dave choked back the
tsunami of sadness that rose from his breast.

He threw the joint at the wall, and clung to his
pillow, sobbing.  Sherman, undecided as to what to do
in this situation, pulled up the songs for Malice
Mizer, and began to play them.  The gentle call of
death floated through the speakers, and into Dave's
mind.


FAQing Hostile
Subcultural Mutant Otaku Versus the Mundanes

Chapter 27
by Assassin

(FAQing Hostile originally spawned by Twoflower)

Three figures stood on the edge of an expanse of
water.  One was only an outline against the waves that
lapped at its feet.  The second had a billowing cloak
blowing behind it.  The third was wrapped in furs that
hid its figure.  The land around them was a deep
green, covered in the carpet of the tundra.  Mountains
flanked them, granite with snow capped white tips. The
sky was blue, a rare sight indeed.

The third figure, farthest on the right, let out a
sigh. "By the Kami this place is amazing..." Arashi's
voice trailed off in reverence."

"Kami indeed," nodded Kenishi. "If they are anywhere,
then they must be here." The water shone blue in his
single eye.

hiro smiled slightly, his mouth taking on that
sarcastic and slightly scornful twist that seemed
natural. "Perhaps..." he said slowly, "although, for
the most part, they were considered only to exist in
Japan. Perhaps the only Kami now are those buried deep
below the ocean."  Kenishi and Arashi both turned
their heads as one to look at him.

"hiro," Kenishi said, "sometimes I think that stuff
got so far into your head that you believe it all.
Sometimes I wonder if you've turned Japanese
yourself." He laughed, and hiro smiled wryly below the
hood and scarf that hid his face from the wind. They
all turned their eyes back to the scenery.

"So then, I'm glad that you approve of my action,"
hiro said. He meant it seriously. If Kenishi and
Arashi had deserted him, he would be alone in his
actions. He was the last of the Jinruigakusha, an
already esoteric faction in the legions of the Otaku.
Few, if any, would know of him. Even if they did know
what he was, they might demand to know the secrets he
kept. He could not hand over the secrets. That which
he knew was forbidden to the Otaku for a reason. The
Jinruigakusha were the only ones to know many things,
among them, the true meaning of 'otaku'. He was the
last to keep the secrets. If he died, there might not
be any more. He looked to the sky. All those secrets
would be gone, like sweatdrops in rain.

Kenishi noticed his friend's turn of mood. "It is
understandable, hiro. We need those kids to be
confident, and stay on their mission. If we let them
know what we were really doing, then they'd just want
in too." Arashi nodded as well. "Besides," continued
Kenishi, tracing a finger across his scar, "this is a
job suited more for professionals." Next to him,
Arashi's hand brushed the handle of her kodachi.

"So then," hiro said, "we shall continue north and
west, until we reach our destination." His left hand
fingered the tsuba of his katana.  He looked at the
bundle of papers that Kenishi held in his hand. "You
are certain on that data we obtained from Genom?"
Kenishi nodded.

"It checks out with the Rurouni's internal computer,"
noted Arashi. "The signal was bounced and rerouted
through at least three dozen different networks and
lines, but it looks like the original signal came from
New Anchortown, in what was once this former country's
last hope of oil." Kenishi hmmed.

"Do we have any reports as to what it is like
now?"Kenishi queried.  hiro shook his head.

"Last I knew of it, an agent of ours had traveled out
there. There was once a great trade market there, the
best save Seattle. He disappeared into the north, and
was never heard from again. Last transmission we
heard, he had stumbled into something called
'Matanuska Blue', and was reporting sightings of
chibified locals." hiro shrugged.

"We head into the wild," Kenishi murmured. He grabbed
the ends of his cloak and wrapped them around his
body. The wind had picked up, and it's chill bit into
his skin. hiro adjusted a small dial on the outside of
his wrist. Arashi did not move.

"Lets get back inside then," Kenishi suggested.
Kenishi held out a small remote, and the door to the
Rurouni slid open. The trio headed inside. Kenishi and
Arashi took the controls, and hiro went to the room he
was currently using.

"I am going back to train," he called to Kenishi. "Do
you have the MGS VR Missions Disc on file here?"

"Yeah," Kenishi replied while his eyes were still
trained on the controls.  "You're going to need to
beat my scores for this one."  hiro grinned roguishly.

"No problem. Lets get going, so we can get this done,
and finally have revenge on the scum that destroyed
our home."


**********

B1FF sat in front of his terminal, sweating as his
fingers flew across the keys.  Vixen was hunched over
her own terminal, her blue hair pulled back from her
face. A leather gloved finger traced a line across her
screen, whilst another formed in her brow.  Phreakachu
was curled up below her feet. As Vixen leaned closer
to the screen, her cheek brushed a cabinet corner. Her
hair frizzled and stood on end as a large static
charge flew through her body, and into the metal
casing.  Vixen frowned. She really wish Phreakachu
would sleep somewhere else.

Dave stumbled into the main control room, head
downcast. Vixen couldn't even bear to look at him.
First he had the nerve to start getting all upset,
just because someone died. Then he had started turning
into a less useful version of Phreakachu, hitting the
pot stash every night. The pokemon must have had some
sort of sympathy, kami alone know why. Either that, or
he was dealing again. Vixen glanced back at the little
mini room where Phreakachu lived, but didn't notice
any increase in anything.

Vixen kept quiet as Dave dragged himself to the
fridge.  She watched him out of the corner of her eye
as he put a crate at the fridge's food. He then
proceeded to sweep everything out of the shelves with
his arm, and into the crate. Sleepily, he picked up
the crate, and headed back to his room.

"Suck d00d," said B1FF. "h3 3v3n t00k th3 l4st c4s3
0f p0cky." Forlornly, he went back to his typing.
Vixen stood up suddenly. Without a word, she marched
back into Dave's room, and tried to slam the door. The
door slid closed slowly, despite her efforts to pull
it.

Dave looked up at her wearily. What was up with her?
All he wanted was a little snack, and she got upset
about it. Maybe she need a smoke or two. Dave noticed
at this point that she maybe she didn't, as a small
cloud of black smoke was already emerging from her
head.

"Listen newbie, I don't care how much you wreck
yourself emotionally over this whole thing, but cut
down the drugs! We have limited rations already, and
you managed to plough through a whole week's worth!"

Vixen's diatribe slapped him in the face. Sure, he
had felt a little sick lately, but whenever he did, he
just had another smoke and he felt fine again. Who was
she to judge him anyway. He stood there, not quite
angry, but no longer so mellow.

"If you keep doing this, I'm going to turn this tank
around. And don't think I won't newbie. Who started
you on this crap anyway?!"

Dave couldn't keep it in anymore. "It was 'chu
alright?! I learned it from Phreakachu!" For a moment
he gripped his fists tight, looking to hit something.
But then he crumpled and fell back to his bed, sobbing
and choking.

Vixen was a little surprised. Sure, in the time he'd
been there so far, Dave had been far less than stoic.
He was no Lone Wolf, or even Cub for that matter. But
this was far beyond any emotional outbreak she had
seen of him before. She took two steps toward him,
uncertainly. When he showed no reaction, she carefully
sat down on his bed next to him.

"Dave... I'm... I was... It's my... listen, do you
want to talk about it?" Her heart was jumping. This
was brave new territory for Vixen. But ultimately she
realized that it would be her duty as a responsible
commander. That would make her actions right. All
except for when her hand touched his, ever so lightly.

************

In an underground base, to the West, where the Otaku
had been just a day previous...

Bill turned a corner, down another hall. It was made
of a shiny plastic substance, and gleamed with newness
and cool. He hated it. It was just another show, just
so much spin to get the edge in the 'aggressive
marketing' strategic advance that the Jobs had
conceived. He hated his shiny armor, with its blue
highlights. He hated the glass-clear laser pistol,
with the stupid pulsing amber indicator that showed it
was charging. And most of all, he hated the fact that
the whole gun was the trigger. If he shot himself one
more time this week, then he would show the Jobs how
'easy and simple' it was.

Lost in his hating, he stumbled into someone coming
the other way. He slipped on the plastic floor, and
landed on his back with a crash. When he looked up, he
saw a figure in similar armor, with smoky gray
highlights. His eyes grew wide, but then he saw that
there was no design on his chestplate. He relaxed
slightly. At least this one didn't outrank him this
much.

Slowly he stood up, and saluted. The other man
smirked, and waved his hand. Bill relaxed. Since it
was only another i-gent like him, no discipline could
be handed out. He respectfully stood aside while the
i-gent passed him. Hurrying back to his room, he tried
to avoid others. Hopefully he could get through the
rest of the day without meeting any aG3nts or aG4nts
who would give him something pointless to do... or
make fun of his name.

Shutting and locking himself in his room, he sat
behind his desk. He opened a small file on the
desktop, and typed in a few keys. It was so easy to
detach himself from the network, so he couldn't be
monitored. He had been surprised to find out how
little his superiors knew.

He looked up at the door once, and around the room.
He was jittery, as he was every time. But it was worth
every moment of punishment he would endure if he was
ever caught. His heart jumped as he double clicked on
the little icon, and the program started up, filling
his screen with the forbidden words:

Virtual PC - Loading

His jitters faded a moment later. Now his eyes
gleamed as he searched around the bottom of his desk.
He pried a piece of floor up, and brought up a small
stack of CDs. He selected one, and put it in. Sure it
was forbidden, as was this whole venture. But it was
the only way to fulfill his needs. As the CD loaded,
he began his first game.

**********

Vixen left Dave's room quietly, trying not to wake
him. He had fallen asleep a few minutes ago, when he
had finally stopped talking. She was glad that he did,
because she had no idea of how to proceed from there.
She already felt as if she were tapdancing on thin
ice, she didn't want to go out to the deep part of the
pond.

She left the room confused. The dominant part of
Vixen told her that if he ever acted like that after
she had gone out on a limb for him, she should slap
him until you could hear the piyo-piyo from outside
Sherman. Another part of her wanted to talk back to
him, to let him know that she had once felt like that.

She had? Vixen quickly brushed that thought from her
mind, and made her way back to the bridge. Surely she
had never felt like that. Why would she, when she was
in absolute control of every situation.

As to prove her wrong, the tank lurched, throwing her
to the floor.

**********

Bill was in the middle of a tough game of Age of
Empires II, when the door burst open. Suddenly five
men were inside his room. Three wore the same armor as
him, with blood red highlights. Rubies. That was bad
enough, as they were the roughest of the igents to
begin with. But to make it worse, standing in front of
the door were men with the same shining armor, one in
light blue, one in gray, but each had a logo of a
small apple on their chest. AG3nt and aG4nt. Great.

The rubies surrounded him, and dragged him away from
the computer. The aG3nt stood by the door, while the
aG4nt walked slowly across the room. When he had
reached Bill, he took one look at the monitor, and
pulled out his glassy pistol. With a disgusted frown,
he pointed the pistol at the unit, and pulled on the
handle. A red beam discharged from the pistol, and the
computer was transformed into so much postmodern
sculpture.

"Well Bill," the aG4nt said, putting emphasis on the
name, "I see you just couldn't help yourself. We
always have to keep an eye on the gamers, in case they
get too desperate for a new fix. But you brought it
about on yourself." The aG4nt turned to look at the
rubies flanking Bill. "Throw him out," he commanded.
"He made his choices, and now we'll make him Think
Different." Reholstering his pistol, he reached down
to pick up the cds now scattered on the floor. As the
rubies dragged Bill away, the aG4nt began to break
them one by one.

**********
Vixen jumped up from behind her cover and fired three
more shots toward the mutants huddled behind the
remains of a car. They had taken the better cover, and
they were too close to be taken out by the main gun.
She cursed that Sherman had gotten stuck in a trap so
ingeniously stupid. The ground had been dug so that
when it crossed,the tank had fallen in at such an
angle that it was stuck. Then the firing had begun.

Around twenty feet from her, B1FF took a couple shots
as well. From the sound of ricocheting bullets, there
were no hits. Vixen readied herself to fire again. Two
more shots rang out, and the rusty plate above her
head fell to the ground. Vixen gritted her teeth. They
had come close to killing her.

She looked toward Sherman, plotting an escape exit.
Dave popped out of the hatch. Vixen swore. He was
still stoned, she could tell. His movements were slow
and sleepy, and he hadn't jumped for cover. He brought
up a gun from inside.

Stupid newbie.

Three shots rang from Dave's gun. Vixen waited for a
moment, waited for the mutants to fire on him, so she
would have to bandage him up again, wasting valuable
supplies.

Silence.

Vixen peeked out from her cover. The mutants had been
killed. Their heads were lying broken open by the
hollowpoints that Dave had used. Green blood and black
brains decorated the ground. She looked back towards
Sherman. Dave had gone back inside.
Standing up, Vixen walked towards the bodies to search
them for supplies. Maybe she shouldn't try and talk
him out of those drugs.

**********

In the deep of the underground, a small gray cube
whirred and clicked. On its side it bore a white apple
logo, and the label: JOBS ALPHA. Nearby a small screen
printed out the following words: As we have planned,
the igent has been corrupted. He will try to find
shelter with the enemy. We shall track him. Send an
aG4nt to meet with our comrades in the black car. He
is to assist them in anything they need, and in
return, the CIA will track our pariah to the heart of
the enemy.

The Jobs rose from his chair, and left the small cube
to its thoughts. He had his instructions. He slid the
door closed behind him.

The cube whirred. On the screen, a new window opened.

EMAIL TO: LOTW@msn.net
SUBJECT: The game
CC:
DCC:

TEXT:

I have made a small problem for you. Or perhaps you
have made it for yourself. Good luck tracking this one
down. Don't think you've got the upper hand quite yet.
Its been a long time since the days and the valley,
and the scores have shifted often. But it has been
amusing. I am glad that we devised this little game,
although I never could have seen how long it would
keep us. Pawn moves.

EMAIL.... SENT

**********

A helicopter had landed. Bill saw its logo, and
immediately began to strip himself of all insignia. As
a tall figure jumped out to the ground, and started
toward him, he knelt to the ground, expecting to die
any moment. A hand grabbed his collar and roughly
dragged him up. As he looked into the face of his
captor, all color drained out of his face.

Directoress Richards grinned. "Come with me," she
said. "You serve me now, or you die." Still smiling,
she dragged him back to the helicopter.

END

I finished it! That is good. Thanks go to Lurk for
supplying the song title, Mark Poa and Tempest for
suppling a lot of the ideas and plot, and the FAQing
list for support and such. Not much else to say on
this one.

kiete yuku,
Assassin