~Co-written with Ciaran Gabriel, an artistic genius with a wicked sense of humor.
~ We're ignoring the Kikaider 01 OVA for the time being...well, most of it. :D
The story last left off with our hero walking off, yet again, into the sunset, tears steadily coursing down his childlike face. He had lost all that was dear to him. . .
His brothers . . .
*muffled protests and what seems to be a scuffle are heard*
His love...
*a pause before an obscene noise is made, followed by a slapping sound*
Everythin--"HOLD IT!"
The story is brought to an abrupt halt as--
"Yeah yeah, why don't you shut up, will ya? Let's have some fun already!"
The authors look at each other before surveying the loudmouthed youth with narrowed eyes.
"Ichiro, need I remind you why you had that 'Out of Order' magnet on you in the first place?" one authoress threatened, caressing her collection of novelty magnets affectionately.
"Would you like to be turned into Flock of Seagulls for stealing their style?" the second authoress said, grinning mischievously. The loudmouthed one known as Ichiro merely scoffed, unintimidated by the two authorities of this story.
"Pssh, listen, they already know you're not going to tell a serious story anyway, why not just cut the crap and get to it already." He crossed his arms and glared defiantly at them.
The authoresses took this suggestion into consideration, as the little twit--"HEY!"--had a point.
"Very well." they sighed, and the story finally got started.
~*~*~*~*~
Jiro had been wandering aimlessly for days into the sunset before he realized that it was impossible to actually walk into a sunset. Finally coming to this rather obvious realization, he sat down on a nearby boulder, deciding to reminisce about a certain beauty (who was basically completely ignored during the OVA, much to the audiences' chagrin). . .
"Mitsuko. . ." He gently muttered, lying back on the boulder and closing his eyes. He tried to picture a smiling face, the attractive way her short hair framed that moon-pale face, and every other little detail he could recall about the woman he left behind. . .
But due to impertinent parties *cough*, it was decided that there wasn't time for this sentimental crap.
"Get up, Dipshit. Let's go already!"
Jiro shot up from his relaxed position, eyes widening with blinding speed.
"Ichiro! Rei! How th--?!" he exclaimed before he was cut off.
"Yeah yeah, we're back, nevermind how--" But Jiro's shock caused him to interrupt his elder brother.
"But you were destroyed the last time I saw you . . . I . . .I did it myself!" Jiro choked through, as if the words tasted as bitter as they sounded. Ichiro began to smirk and advance on his ototo-kun menacingly.
"Yeah, about that --" Ichiro did not have the time to let his fist connect with Jiro's face, for he was restrained almost effortlessly by the quietest of the brothers.
"Shut up, baka, I thought you said you wanted to get started already." Rei intervened, sparing the audience from a meaningless but possibly entertaining squabble. There was a momentary pause before Ichiro resigned from his momentary ire and grumbled as he pulled out a flyer from his pocket.
"Listen, some chick was handing these out, you interested in checking out this place?" Ichiro said as he shoved the paper into Jiro's open hand. Rei let a flicker of annoyance glance across his otherwise emotionless face as he placed a warning hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Ichiro, I doubt any female would appreciate being referred to as 'some chick'." The cocky brother scoffed and shrugged in reply.
"Like I give a flying f--" Ichiro was unable to finish his sentence as an invisible slap landed on his rear, sending him flying across the screen. Jiro and Rei peered cautiously over at their prostrate brother, gaping with intrigue.
“Ichiro. . .there’s a sign on your ass.” Rei stated matter-of-factly. Jiro peered at it closer.
“It says . . .’Please Recycle’?” He read, with a look of confusion emerging on his face.
Not believing his brothers at first, he turned to look for himself. Surely enough, there he found to his 'dismay' (dismay being an understatement) a magnet with the words "Please Recycle" stuck to his ass.
"...Dammit all! Dammit all to hell!" he ranted, tossing his arms up in frustration. Ichiro has only been given a sample of what his rude behavior can earn him if he decided to try and up the rating with his foul language again. >:D
Jiro returned his attention to the travel ad that was shoved into his hands before his eyes widened further (a feat in itself, mind you), and something like a hue of red flashed across his face.
"M-Mi-Mi-?!" He never finished the name, for he fainted on the spot, but we can assume the name he was trying to say in surprise was Mitsuko. Poor delicate little thing, is he not?
Rei sighed, getting impatient with the pace of the story. Looking up at the sky, he called out to the powers unknown. (That'd be us.)
"May we PLEASE move on with this?"
Very well, very well.
~*~*~*~*~
*POOF* There were where they needed to be. 'How?' you ask? Well, that's a se--*a message is displayed*.
. . .
It seems that phrase cannot be completed due to copyright infringement.
Damn.
Back to the characters now.
Rei lifted his brother up by the collar, administering one swift slap to his face to wake him. Unfortunately, Rei knocked his jaw loose, so we lost a minute putting it back in place.
There we go.
Ichiro, not surprisingly, was the first to open his (BIG) mouth.
"Where the hell are we?" He asked, an annoyed expression gracing the part of his face we could see through that fluff of hair he has. Jiro rubbed his jaw a little more, to be sure it was back in place before answering.
". . .I'm not sure, I just remember seeing a picture of Mitsuko in very . . . ,' his face heated momentarily as he recalled the image, '. . . scarce clothing and . . .and--is that a slot machine?" He finished, before the rotating lemons, cherries, 7’s and other symbols caught his attention. Rei surveyed the place carefully before he began to powerwalk stiffly away, his eye twitching slightly, from a group of streetwalkers--the male ones.
Noticing the crowd of colorful people swarming the streets, Ichiro decided it was time to display his musical talent to the crowded, bustling audience. However, his song was cut short by an abrupt, harsh sound of a car horn.
The driver of the vehicle lowered his window to speak to the young man blocking his way in the most polite way he could think of.
"HEY DIPS*&^! GET OUTTA THE ROAD BEFORE I F*&(ING RUN YOUR STUPID A$$ OVER!"
Ichiro, acknowledging the man's presence and sensing hostility, sought to ease the tension with his own commentary.
"YOU WANNA MAKE SOMETHING OF IT, F*&^TARD, I'LL F*#$ING TEAR YOU APART, B(*%#~!"
But the driver continued to harbour a difference of opini--Oh who the hell are we trying to kid?
"BRING IT ON, GIGOLO!"
Ichiro was momentarily shocked into outraged silence (*gasp* How can that be so?). When he found his voice again, he exploded. Not literally. Why the hell would we bring him back if we're just gonna blow him up?
"THAT DOES IT! YOU'RE DEAD! DEAD! I'LL RIP YER GODDAMN ASS IN TWO! I'LL-HEY! LEMME GO, REI! I'M GONNA KILL HIM!" He turned his hostilty onto his youngest brother. However, it has been proven that, in this case at least, youngest doesn't mean most immature.
". . .shut up." -_-; He replied as he clamped a hand over his struggling brother's mouth and dragged him from the street's traffic to where Jiro was staring vapidly at the hypnotic contraption of the devil known as the slot machine.
~(Meanwhile. . . in a nightclub only a block away. . .)~
Mitsuko sighed, adjusting her rhinestone encrusted strap to a more comfortable position. It was not the discomfort of the costume that caused her to sigh exasperatedly, but her father, the genius Dr. Komyouji.
"Daddy, leave the girls alone. . ." she sweat dropped in embarrassment at her father's behavior. It was bad enough that they had to leave their home when they were given word that Gill was still alive and her father was a prime target--but to make things worse, her father seemed to enjoy their current location of safety a bit too much.
"Demo, Mitsu-chan . . . I'm hiding for my safety, remember?" He pleaded with false sincerity as he momentarily eyed the sparkles on the number of costumes surrounding him. His daughter sighed and felt another headache coming on and rubbed the bridge of her nose in hopes that it would be averted.
"Oh father . . . I can't believe you talked me into hiding us all here." She muttered, searching around for a bottle of aspirin. Her father only guffawed in reply and patted his daughter on the shoulder.
"Now, now, my dear! Consider it a compliment! No one would ever suspect my virtuous, kind, innocent daughter of hiding in such a disreputable place such as this!" he chuckled good-naturedly and turned to find the door leading to a kitchen where he could retrieve a glass of water for his daughter (And some whiskey for himself), only to be met with acidic glares from the other showgirls in the room.
Growing nervous as the sweat rolled down the side of his head, he turned back to his daughter with an innocent smile on his face.
"You know, Mitsuko-chan, I think it might be time to look for a slightly safer place after all!" ^^;;; He set off in the opposite direction of the glares only to find a dead end.
Mitsuko, blushed in embarrassment at her father's carelessness with words.
"I need to lie down. . ."
~(Outside at the entrance. . .)~
"No sir, you cannot enter this establishment without an ID." Masaru stated blandly, fully aware of the seething adolescent in front of him. A month of working in the city of Vegas under the guise of a midget--*authors are passed another note*
Apparently 'midget' is not a PC term. Crapulence.
Ok, A month of working in Vegas under the guise of a *vertically challenged* doorman had familiarized him with all the antics curious teenage boys could and would pull in order to try and gain admission into the nightclub. This boy didn't seem much different, except he was a bit more hostile than most. Something about the boy did seem almost familiar, but he didn't have much time to ponder just why he looked familiar before his thoughts were interrupted by the boy's loud, demanding tone.
"WHY THE HELL NOT? I JUST WANNA SEE WHAT'S IN THERE!" He yelled, more than just midly annoyed. Masaru surveyed him with a smart-ass smirk of his own. (He is growing, after all. ;D)
"Doesn't everybody?" he replied, coolly. He expected the boy to pop a vein, but at the last minute, it seemed as if a thought had occurred to him. Masaru raised a curious eyebrow, interested to see what this familiar-looking boy would do. Ichiro began to grumble irritably--and who could blame him? His big mouth had gotten him into trouble how many times today? Not to mention, that magnet was still on his ass.
"What if I can play an instrument? Will you let me in as a performer?" This novel idea caused the young Komyouji's eyes to widen significantly. Thinking it over quickly, he realized it would still be against rules because you had to be of legal age to work in such an establishment . . .but the opportunity was too good to pass up. He began to smile impishly.
"Well. . .I dunno, we get some weird guest players every now and then . . .I don't think you'd really agree to the wardrobe of uniforms anyhow--" he shrugged nonchalantly, predicting what would happen.
"I don't care, I just want in! We're supposed to be looking for something!" Ichiro paused his outburst momentarily to look around him for his brothers, who were nowhere to be seen for the moment. ". . .Well, I'll look at least. . ." he mumbled before grumbling incoherently with occasionally recognizable terms such as 'dictators' and 'power-mad' before the authors mercifully decided to ignore him. Masaru hid a smirk before faking a sigh and going on.
". . . have it your way sir." he said, letting Ichiro in. When he was sure he was out of earshot, Masaru released the laughter he'd been holding back during the entire encounter.
"Oh my god! I wish I could see his face when he's given the showgirl's uniform!" he breathed finally, wiping a tear of laughter from his eyes.
~(Back to where our missing cast members are. . .)~
Jiro continued to insert quarter after quarter into the mocking contraption of evil, cursing every time the sequence came up mismatched, which was every time.
"Damn! Almost! One more time . . .DAMN! Once more! DAMMIT!"
Rei eyed the machine with a mixture of disturbance and curiosity before gaining his brother's attention.
"Jiro, we'd better go check on Ichiro . . .Jiro, are you listening?"
>Alas, his brother was not, for he was standing in attention to the machine, glassy-eyed.
"The spinning. . .cherries . . ." he turned around to face Rei, with the same, vapid expression. Rei sweatdropped before exclaiming a confused "Huh?"
Jiro then looked at the buttons on his brother's jacket, hallucinating them to be quarters.
"Oooh, shiny. . ." he murmured, before pulling at one of the buttons. Growing frustrated, Rei took hold of his brother by the collar and smacked him.
"Snap out of it!"
Jiro was amazed to find that his jaw wasn't broken a second time when he regained his senses. . .however, it didn’t stop it from hurting like hell.
"Ouch! Sorry, Rei, I . . .don't know what came over me. . .This place, these machines, they call out to me, they're taking control of my mind!" He nervously backed away from the contraptions as a passer-by dug in the folds of his pockets took time to look up at him with a frown.
"You're tellin' me, pal." He resumed his quest for a quarter and walked on. Jiro eyed him with a confused expression before a thought occurred to him.
"Oi, you're right, where is Ichiro?"
Then, as if on cue, a loud explosion of obscenities was heard only a block away, causing both brothers to sigh and sweatdrop in unison.
(To be continued. . .)
