vesper@ix.netcom.com (Mario Di Giacomo) Well, my pre-post announcement vanished into the bit bucket, so I'll do a quick recap... 1] This isn't based on any particular anime. It's sort of a UF story, but not part of the official continuity. 2] This story contains elements of what was originally OF: Parlour Games. The next story will be *MUCH* longer, so I don't know when I'll finish it. [probably by November...:)] 3] I don't know what's up with OR 3. Cor never answers his mail. And now, on with the show... * * * It had been a rough road. After the defeat of the MIB, the Otaku Group had basically split up, pairing off and leading their own lives. Frosty and Sheila had gotten married, and after a honeymoon in Florida, had taken residence in TALAMASCA, along with Marius and the Puma sisters. Wolf and Jess continued their road trip, taking the Truck from one corner of the globe to another. Kali and Cal [nicknamed Shiva for the obvious reasons] had also been wed, and had opened up the Institute for Advanced Genetics on a parcel of land in Westchester, NY. As for the Corithian, he and the now organic Sam had disappeared, soon after raising the Yamato. With the Lippit complex shut down, DC needed a place to dump his near-infinite supply of tech ideas. So, after consulting a few lawyers, he purchased a small plot of land in northwest Connecticut, and build Project Hadrian. Of course, he'd wanted to call it DigiCom, but a trademark search revealed that the name was in use by a company that made modems [hence the need for lawyers]. So instead, he named it after his design platform, the Hologram Aided Design, Replicator Intergrated Assembly Network, or HADRIAN. Cat, upon hearing the name, had remarked that the name fit, considering that the Roman emperor of that name had been fond of construction projects. So, a semi-accurate copy of the Roman Pantheon was built, and Project Hadrian began. Otaku Files: Masquerade by Mario Di Giacomo Copyright 1995, by the author Months passed, and the Project grew in importance, specializing in applied robotics and teleoperations. New design concepts led to major advances in several fields, as well as headaches for its competitors, as they tried furiously to discover his secrets. Everything from bribery to outright theft was tried, and failed, since the biggest corporate secret was one the public wouldn't believe. While a crack staff of relatives handled sales and PR, Mario spent most of his time in the Forge, a massive holodeck built into the "dome" of the HQ. Anything he could visualize was within it's capabilities, and once it'd been parsed by the replicators, it became real. Just what every boy wanted, the ultimate Erector set. One fine day, a long, dark car pulled up to the HQ, disgorging two blond, crewcut midshipmen, and and elderly figure in greatcoat and peaked cap. The latter, clearly in charge, hobbled slowly to the main entrance. A red light shone at his approach, sweeping over the trio, as a husky, yet undeniably female voice announced, "State your name and business, please." The leader gruffly responded, "Admiral Hiram Avatar, and escort, to see the director." "One moment." the voice pinged, "You have been cleared. Your escort will remain in the waiting room, as per usual." The twin bronze doors swung open noiselessly, revealing a sunny, friendly looking, if quite empty, lobby, with several comfortable chairs and couches, and some current magazines. "Wait here!" Avatar ordered. "Sir!" one of his guards stammered, "our orders.." "I'm an Admiral, son. You _listen_ when I tell you something. I'll be perfectly fine. If the Director had wanted to harm me, I'd never have made it through the doors." he replied kindly. "Now _SIT_!!!" he roared. Although he half-expected the pair to sit on the floor, they merely moved to one of the couches, and perched tensely on the edge of the cushion. Avatar sighed, and proceeded slowly down a well-lit hallway. After passing through several more checkpoints [the nature of which is classified under federal law 32-14/alpha] he came to the door, or to be more accurate, the Door. The Door begged for capitalization, as it filled an entire wall, and looked as if it could withstand anything short of nuclear attack. As Avatar approached, it smoothly parted, with the hiss of heavy-duty hydraulics. Beyond the threshold was a landscape from another place and time. Strange shapes tumbled through the air, combining and metamorphizing in a ballet of creation. And floating at the dance's heart was the General Operations Director of Project Hadrian. "Mario!" Avatar called. "One minute!" came the reply. As Avatar watched, the images blossomed in reverse, collapsing int a shimmering sphere, as DC descended on a shaft of light. He turned to face his visitor, "Hello again, Hiram. Congratulations on the promotion." "The boys at the Pentagon decided I was wasted in the field." the admiral growled in reply, "I'm bored senseless. How are things with you?" "Oh, the usual. Lots of projects in the air, so to speak." DC replied. The two men studied each other. Avatar saw a thin, almost cadaverous figure, with short black hair and goatee, wearing a rumpled lab coat. Basically, DC looked the same as always. Mario, for his part, was more concerned. Since he knew Avatar's "origins", he'd expected something like this to happen, Hiram's recent illness had left him weaker than DC had expected. Still, the fire was there, and the outcome was far from certain. "So Hy, what can I do for you?" he smiled, dispelling the clouds of gloom. "Annapolis was impressed by the battle sims, but they want something more tangible." Avatar smiled in reply, "Do you have some toys for them?" "Nothing I could explain..here, let me show you what I've got on tap." Faacing the omnipresent sphere, he called out "Showtime!" An image unfolded before them, resolving into a sleek, indigo motorcycle, sheathed in composites, and sporting a swingarm front suspension. "Looks like a toy.." Avatar harrumphed. "Perceptive as always, Admiral," Mario replied, "I licensed the basic design from New World Animation, or at least the outer shell. The insides are entirely homegrown. I've combined a flywheel with regenerative brakes, as well as a few special touches, to make it swift, silent, and deadly." "Deadly?" "Well, maybe not," Mario grinned, "but one never knows, do one." "What incredibly contrived acronym is this one called?" DC posed dramatically, "The Project Hadrian Advanced Nonpolluting Turbocharged Overdrive Motorcycle..or PHANTOM for short." "Impressive...is this the motorcycle you told me about before?" "The WarHogs? Nahhh. I built those at Lippit, back when I thought transforming stuff was neat." "And now?" Avatar prodded. "Now, I think they break down too much." DC finished. "Oh." the admiral paused, "This isn't quite what they had in mind." Mario shrugged, "I just recieved the blueprints of a cryonic laser developed by some college students. It's quite powerful, but only single shot. Given time, I'm sure I can improve the design." Avatar nodded, "So, how is Catherine? I haven't seen her since the Marcus wedding." "She's..fabulous." DC stammered, "I think I'm going to tell her.." "Tell me what?" Cat asked, as the Door parted. The lithe, Amerasian figure strode into the Forge, dressed in a matching green blouse and skirt. "I -ah- -um-," DC mumbled, "Can we wait until dinner?" "I suppose.." Cat replied concernedly, "Hello Hiram, you are looking well." "Of course not," Avatar blustered, "but thank you for trying to comfort an old man." "You can turn off the charm," she replied, "Oh, and if those two gentlemen in the lobby are yours, you'd better go fetch them. They look so stiff, they may snap at any minute." "Ah well, duty calls." Avatar sighed, "Let me know what happens with that laser, Mario. Nice to see you again, Catherine." "Have a good one." she replied, kissing him on the cheek. There was a momentary, almost invisible reddening of his skin, but it soon passed. As the couple watched, he turned, and shuffled off down the hall. "I'm worried about him," DC mused, as they sat on a hastily conjured couch. "He looks worse." Cat snuggled, "He has had a long and full life. Maybe you could 'tank him?" "I thought about that, but his illness is too well documented. If it suddenly vanished..." he trailed off. "Pity," she murmured, "Now, what are you hiding from me?" "Dinner first..." he grinned, "What's your fancy?" "Surprise me." Moments later, they were on the road, in DC's reconverted '59 T-Bird. As they sped towards New York City, Cat continued her attempts to force Mario to divulge his mysterious attitude, to no avail. He merely drove into the Big Apple, stopping at 666 Fifth Avenue, site of the rooftop restaurant named "Top of the Sixes.", infamous for the huge red street number which made up part of it's facade. After managing to get past an overly slender model on an autograph hunt, they sat at their table, ordering a meal which cost more than DC's total income of his first 20 years. Despite this, he ate heartily, as his assets had increased immensely over the past year. Cat continued prodding, until eventually, DC put down his fork. "I suppose the time has come..." he mused, standing and performing a fairly accurate Picard manuever on his tux. Reaching into an interior pocket, he dropped to one knee. As if they were awaiting this cue [and they were] the orchestra began playing the theme from "Doctor Zhivago." Cat watched, realization dawning on her face. "Catherine Dai," he stated formally, "Would you do me the immense pleasure of becoming my wife?" He opened the box, revealing a truly impressive diamond ring, on a braided band of gold and platinum. Catherine sat silent for a moment, until DC whispered in an undertone "C'mon kid, my knee is killing me..." She smiled, and taking the ring, replied, "Of course I will, you silly boy!" The band struck up Beethoven's Ninth, as the waiters and patrons cheered. DC swept Cat into his arms, and kissed her. Then he kissed her again. And again. Well, you get the idea. The next few months were fairly hectic, in a logistics sense, as two families and one small para-military organization got involved. The ceremony itself went off without a hitch, although the reception was fairly messy [Jon just HAD to start a food fight...] And the next day, they left for their honeymoon: Mardi Gras at New Orleans. The first day, after a shower, some sex, another shower, and breakfast, they hit the streets. Mardi Gras, as an event, had transcended the boundaries of one day, extending backward a whole week. So there was much to do, places to see, the usual touristy things, on top of the week-long party. DC had chosen a classical approach, dressing up as a harlequin, complete with vari-colored tights and black mask. To match him, Cat was attired in a Columbine outfit, although her skirt was perhaps a bit more petite than her original model. They wandered the streets, drinking in the sheer pageantry of it all. Through his connections, Mario had acquired tickets for several balls, including the Rex, Comus, and Krewe of Hades. Since he didn't drink [a trait he shared with his bride] it was likely that they would merely make an appearance at each, schmoozing with the batyou elite. But that was the night-time. During the day, Catherine took charge, dragging her spouse from shop to shop, watching parade after parade. At one point, as revelers attempted to bowl over the crowd with a crack-the-whip manuever, DC and Cat took refuge in a small antique shop. "Whew." he panted, "Some people..." "They were having fun. Something you need to work on, Mario." "Ouch." he replied, pantomiming a shot to the heart. "Can I help you folks?" a new voice crackled. They turned, to find a black woman of indeterminate, but clearly extreme age, smiling at them from a web of wrinkles. "Welcome to Mother Abigail's" Cat shook her head. "We were just resting from the crowds. It's really mad out here." "Child, when you've lived as long as me, you'll know that nothing happens by accident. Everyone who walks through that door for a reason. Now, what can I interest you in?" DC moved forward, "You can stop the hard sell, we're not interested." "My, aren't you the bold one. I've got here a lock of Marie Leveau's hair, guranteed to put the fire back in a marriage." Cat looked up from a case of old bric-a-brac. "That's not a problem...we just got married." "Newlyweds! Of course! You must be- I have just the thing. Hold on.." She bustled into the back of the store, as DC turned to leave. Cat held his arm, "Let's wait. Who knows, it might be interesting." DC paused as if to reply, but a look in her eye made him demur. He was well and truly trapped. Abigail returned, carrying a cracked leather case. Clearing a space on the counter, she set it down, opening it. Inside, stretched out on a cushion of red velvet, was an ivory flute, yellowed with age. "This flute is said to be carved from the bone of a dragon. Folks say it'll bring the solution to all your problems. Just what every young couple needs..." "I don't th-" DC began, until Cat chimed in. "I'll take it. How much?" "I like you two....say $150.00" "Like us more," DC replied, "Say $85." They bartered back and forth, a few times, eventually settling on a round $100. The flute was wrapped, and the money exchanged. As the couple left, they heard the faint call, "You be careful out there!" Dusk was fast approaching, so rather than return to the hotel, they moved directly to the Comus Ball. There, DC revaled his phenomenal lack of dancing ability, which was sureprising considering his agility in other matters. So, after trodding on Cat's feet for the third time, he decided to sit the next dance out. Cat joined him, sitting at the table where they'd left their purchases. They sat, watching the swirling figures, becoming bored almost instantly. While DC daydreamed about some ideas he'd come up with, Cat burrowed into the bags, removing the flute case. As the music drifted into a lower key, she blew a note. The richness surprised her, not to mention her fellow ball attendees, who paused in their revels. One figure appeared at their table. The tall, golden-masked individual of apparent Jamaican descent, if the skin color and dreadlocks were any sign, introduced himself in a voice dripping with testosterone. "Good evening, my lady, I am Christoph Dantes." "And she is my wife." DC interjected, standing. Dantes towered over him, but his macho alert was at DEFCON 3, and rising fast. "My apologies, my friend. I thought I'd heard her call." "It was merely a flute, nothing more," DC retorted, eyes smoldering. "Of..Course..I must have been mistaken. Good evening to you both..." He turned to leave, and Mario sat back down. "I wish we hadn't bought that blasted thing," he muttered. "You needn't have been so rude." Cat glared at him. DC, however, was in full rave mode, "Why you wanted to buy a stupid flute is beyond me. I mean, do you really believe in all of that dragon BS?" "In China, dragons are part of our myths. Anyway, who's to say what's nonsense, and what's real, Mr.Flying-UPS-Truck- Alien-Invasion-Fighter?" "Ah, um, good point," he mumbled, trying his ContritePuppyDogLook[patent pending]. He'd been working on it, but it wasn't perfected. This time it worked. Smiling at him, she announced, "I think you are just tired. Let's go back to the hotel." "I'll buy that for a dollar." "Sold." The couple stood, making their way out of the hall, and onto the streets. The press of traffic was worse than ever, this being the last night of the Carnival. In an attempt to escape the worst of it, they hit the side streets of the Vieux Carre, getting completely lost in the process. "I know where I'm going," DC insisted, as they passed a nightclub for the third time. "Of course you do." Cat semi-snarked. "Maybe you should use your magic flute!" DC counter-snarked, a mistake for sure. [he was new at this marriage thing] Yanking the bone tube from her bag, she snarled, "Fine! I will!" The shadowy courtyard this exchange occured in was soon filled with the tones of her purchase, which echoed off the walls and cobblestone pavement. First three slow notes, then three quick. The echoes seemed to build, until the shadows began to move. They weaved about the pair, separating them. Although she'd stopped playing, the notes continued, building in resonance, shaping the night, until Dantes stood before them. "THAT was my call," he announced, facing the couple. "Come, my lady, we must go!" "NO!!" DC called, springing at him. But the shadows billowed, and wrapped about Dantes and Cat. As DC tumbled through the blackness, they vanished. DC roared with frustration. After about ten minutes of generic psychosis, he reached into a handy pocket, extracting an oxidized pin. Tapping it's face, he muttered, "DC to Talamasca. Bodyslide by 1." There was a shimmer of light, and he was gone. High above the surface of the earth, DC materialized in the main 'Slide chamber of the erstwhile HQ of Otaku Group. "Lucien!" he ordered. The erudite AI which ran the station flickered to life before him, "It's good to see you again, sir. How was your vaca-" "Shut up." DC suggested menacingly, "I need to see the sensor logs for the past hour." "I fear that will be impossible. Master Marius had requested a full diagnostic before turning in tonight. Shall I waken him?" "No time. There's got to be...of course. Access records on an antique shop called Mother Abigail's" "One moment.." Lucien paused, as his circuits engaged. "No records found." "That's not possible. Try variations, centered on New Orleans." A longer pause followed, "No similar name is listed for an antique establishment. No records for any business of any kind." "Bozhe moi...Give me a street map of the French quarter." The image flickered before him. As he pored over it, muttering to himself, Lucien looked on concernedly. "Is there something wrong, sir?" "None of your bloody..ah, here it is. Lucien, access records for Rue Monte Cristo." "I have know records of any businesses at that address after 1869. The area is now listed as a dead end." "Inconcievable..." DC muttered [yes, he's doing that a lot. Deal.] Pulling a holstered phaser from a nearby storage compartment, he faced the fairly confused AI. "Bodyslide by 1, to that location." "Very good sir." The energy swept over him again, and his surroundings changed. The street was right. The city was right. The shop was a blank brick wall. Severly pissed off, DC drew his phaser, and blasted the wall. Rather than explode, which was basically what he expected, the wall simply absorbed the energy, shaping it into the head of Chris Dantes. "Greetings, Mr. Di Giacomo. I have been expecting you." "Can the Barry White impersonation. Where is my wife." The image smiled, "She is fine, and awaiting you." "Where!" DC demanded. "Here, beyond the Labyrinth." the head replied, morphing into a golden gateway. Bowing to the inevitable, DC entered. The world shifted, and he found himself in a tunnel. "I hope he's never heard of DOOM," DC thought. He walked on, as the corridor curved to the right. There were no doors, no branches of any kind. Just the corridor, stretched out before him. Another right turn brought him into a large circular room, inhabited only by a small boy. The boy, approximately 9 years old, had shaggy brown hair, and gold-rimmed glasses. Most of his face was concealed by the book he was reading. "Er..Excuse me." DC called. The boy looked up, fear in his eyes, and skittered toward the far wall. "Don't be afraid, I just have a few questions." DC murmured. "You hate me! Everyone hates me! Just because I'm 'gifted', and no good at sports.." the boy wailed. DC moved closer, speaking calmy, "Hey, relax...I know what that's like. I went through it my..self." He took a closer look at the child, and knowledge came. "You wouldn't be named Mario by any chance?" "Yeah, it's a stupid name." Mario[child] replied, "I mean, they could have named me Eric, or Al, or something I could translate, but NO-O-O. They gave me this one. I didn't even get a middle name!" he wailed. "It's no picnic, I know. Y'see, I'm named Mario too." "Really!" the boy replied, "Wow." "After using a lot of nicknames, I eventually decided to just use it. After a while, it doesn't bother you anymore." "Oh. I guess that makes sense..." the boy shrugged, and vanished. DC turned around, eventually noticing a new door had opened. Shrugging, he moved on. After about a half mile of walking, he came to another room. This time, the inhabitant was recognizably him, at age 15, dressed entirely in black, pockets bulging. "What's up!" the figure called. "Oh, I'm just passing through," DC replied, "What are you doing?" Mario[15] motioned to a pile of orange-spined books, "I'm making another D&D character. My last one got nailed." "Ouch, sounds painful." DC remarked, "What happened?" "That fallscrimyager DM rigged a trap. Then he wouldn't even follow my 'will'!" Mario snarled. "I can see that might be a problem...why don't you just leave the game?" "Hey," Mario replied, "It's the only place I fit in. Yeah, it can get annoying, but what else is there for me? The Math Team?" "Why not try writing? That way, the story can come out the way _you_ want." "That's my sister's schtick, not mine." Mario retorted. "Try it, you may be surprised..." Once again, the image shrugged, and vanished. This time, DC headed straight for the exit. Another half-mile, another room. This time "he" was bearded, and asleep. "Mario?" DC called. His doppelganger woke up, scratching his cheeks reflexively. "Who the hell are you?" he replied grouchily. "Would you believe I'm you, from about three years in the future?" DC replied. "No, I probably wouldn't. Why, is it something you'd be likely to say?" "This is no time for Hitchhiker quotes. I'm married, and my wife is held captive somewhere int this maze." "Sounds like something Cor would come up with...I'll have to put it in a story." "Stories are one thing, this is real life we're talking about here. Instead of playing hooky to write stories, how's about lending me a hand?" "Bugger off. I tried real life. I'm unemployed, and my sister's in a coma. So I think I'll stick to fantasy." "Keep trying, Mario, something good will turn up." "Yeah, right." he mumbled, lying back down on his couch. "I'll consider it." Again he vanished, and DC moved on. The turns were tighter here, as if he was approaching the end of the spiral. Finally, he entered another room. This one was larger, and open to the sky. Seated at a table in it's center were Dantes, Cat, and the mysterious Mother Abigail. "Enjoy your trip, boy?" Abigail called. "I've come for my wife." DC replied, drawing his phaser. Dantes stood, "We can't allow that, yet. There is still one more facet to your personality." He motioned, and the shadows rippled, disgorging a figure DC had never wanted to see again. Himself, in the PREDATOR suit. "Target acquired." the dull voice resounded. "Oh, boy." DC stated. As the turret swung toward him, disgorging a gout of plasma death, he dodged to one side, snapping off a quick phaser blast. More or less as he'd expected, the shot was easily deflected by the suit's shields. "I built that thing too damn well." he muttered, as another bolt barely missed him. Out came the NegaDisk, which swooped around him dizzyingly, forcing him to continuously dance out of it's path. Meanwhile Cat, Abigail, and Dantes looked on, with expressions of shock, curiosity, and boredom respectively. The last changed to surprise when DC played his trump card. In order to recover from the damage he'd recieved in the Area 51 attack, DC had been injected with a special breed of nanites. He called on them now, summoning up their energies. A blast of energy erupted from his right hand, blasting the Disk to atoms, and filling the air with the smell of scorched flesh. DC winced as the discharge faded, and his crisped hand was revealed. "Personal note: Don't do that again." he grunted. The Predator moved in for the kill. DC looked him straight in the eye [well, the faceplate, anyway.] and stated in a clear, if somewhat shaky voice. "You cannot kill me." "That is an untrue statement," the armor-clad figure replied, readying the NegaThorn. "That's because you don't know what I know...MINDLOCK!" DC cried. An electronic pathway burned through subspace, invading the armor's onboard systems. Ruthlessly, DC shut down all offensive systems, leaving the armor a hunk of useless metal. "I rarely lie." DC continued, as the armor toppled over. He watched it vanish, and turned to his tormentor. "My wife, please?" "Bravo!" Dantes cheered, as he led the highly confused Cat to her husband, "You have proven yourself worthy." After a brief hug, and a longer kiss, DC & Cat faced Dantes. "Worthy of what" DC demanded. "The Truth!" Dantes replied, as his body changed. Great, batlike wings erupted from his shoulders, and his face extruded a reptilian snout. Soon, where a larger-than-average man had stood, there was a great golden dragon. "I am Chrysodontes, the Goldenfang, last of the Mandragora." the deeper-than-ever voice continued. "For millenia, my kind have watched over yours, shepherding them through troubles and strife. But I am the last. And there is a greater need than ever." DC merely stared, mouth agape. Cat, recovering faster than her beau, called up at the beast, "What is the danger?" "An ancient empire that spans a thousand thousand suns have chosen your world as the Testing Ground. It is they who were behind the MIB, for they wished to subvert or destroy any force which could oppose them. They failed, but only in this one case. Unless they are stopped, the world will fall beneath a terrible black dawn." "And naturally, you want us to fight them, since we defeated them once before." DC said. "Of course." Goldenfang replied, "With the aid of my bondmate Abigail, I lured you here. I apologize for the deception, but I had to be certain." DC merely grunted in reply. Cat, mulling over what she'd just heard, turned to Abigail. "Are you a mandragora too?" she asked. "No child, I am merely an old woman. But I love him. That is enough." "I understand." Cat replied, pulling DC closer to her. She did, too. Not for nothing did the ancients say "Omnia vincit Amor." [Love conquers All] EPILOGUE "So we'll need as much help as we can get." DC told the figure on the screen before him. "I'll try my best" Avatar replied, "Do we know how much time we have." "I'm afraid not," DC replied, "But I hope it's enough." TO BE CONTINUED....