Next chapter! Wheeeee! I'm on a roll! I tried to keep it short. I'm gonna squeeze as much as I can into the next chapter... if that sounds like a good thing.
This chapter introduces us to George, Kaze Youkai, and the "Mysterious Tanuki."
Deleted Scenes:
*Dan meets Greg in the hallway. They just look into each other's eyes the way rival dogs glare at each other. I took this one out because it was kind of pointless.
CHAPTER SIX The night is often considered frightening, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t have a beauty to it. The light from the full moon split the darkness and danced with the stars, spilling its beautiful light across the medieval castle and forest below it. Atop the castle was a lonely princess whose eyes shimmered in the splendorous moonlight, wishing for her knight to return to her from his quest.
Such was the concept and setting of John’s current painting.
He finished touching up the painting on his canvas. All was well right here in this cabin. Since he and Dan had been paid rather handsomely from the Whitefire they brought in, they could afford riding a luxurious train to New Jackson. John had spent most of his time painting this picture that now sat before him, in its entire artistic splendor.
Dan looked down from his top bunk at the painting. “Wow,” he said. “That’s pretty good. You say you’re not a well-liked artist, though?”
John began to pack up his paints. “That could be a variety of reasons why. I always thought it was because I wasn’t talented enough.”
Dan sat up on his bunk. “Why do you think that?”
John began to screw the caps back onto their tubes. He stopped for a moment and fidgeted a bit, perhaps out of thought. “I don’t know. Why else would one not achieve if he weren’t talented enough?”
“Maybe,” said Dan, “it’s because of your lineage. Not many people like the Tanuki; it’s been like that for hundreds of years.”
John snorted. “So they don’t like me because of my race?” John sat up as he put his things back into his traveling bag. “Even if it is true,” he said, “I wouldn’t resort to claiming that my race holds me back, or blaming other races for hating me. It’s irresponsible, and unintelligent.”
Dan blinked for a bit as he watched John pack all his things up. “But it’s a beautiful painting. You’re very talented, so why are you still a struggling artist? I still think it’s because of bigotry.”
John rolled his eyes as he stood, once again, in front of his canvas. “All my life,” he began, “I couldn’t sell my art even if I hid my lineage. So I think it might be something else; like I’m not talented enough or something.” He looked up, and pointed out the window at the world passing by. “You look out there, and you’ll see artists whose artwork has become world renowned. Me, I probably couldn’t even make a good comic book.”
For a moment, the both of them were silent, listening only to the sounds of a traveling train. Dan broke the silence as he lay back down on his bed. “So, instead of blaming bigotry, you’ll blame yourself? What’s with you, man?”
John looked at his piece, paying attention to every small detail, trying to detect any imperfections. “I’m not blaming myself,” he said, “The fact that I’m struggling as an artist is more than likely a result of what people want to see in a painting. Maybe their view has changed.”
Dan shook his head as he sighed. “You’re not making much sense.”
John went back to his traveling bag and withdrew a frame from it. As he sized it up, he said, “Art is to capture beauty, imagination, and action. Maybe people don’t think of art like that anymore.” He turned his head towards Dan. “Know what I mean?”
“A little, maybe,” Dan said. “I’m no artist. But…” He sat back up and leaned over the side of his bunk. “It sounds to me like you really don’t know why people don’t like your art.”
John began the process of putting his painting into the frame, but he suddenly stopped at Dan’s words. He looked back up at Dan with those child-like eyes of his. Now that Dan thought of it, John did look very young even though he was supposed to be twenty.
“You know,” John said, “you’re right. I really don’t have an answer for you. It seems that all I can do is theorize.” He looked back down at his painting. It was certainly beautiful to him, but there was always the chance that the world would not see it that way.
“Take it from me,” Dan continued, “The world is like an ocean, full of change, waves, and chaos. There’s no telling when or where the next thing will break. The best thing you can do is just hang in there and ride the waves until people begin to notice your talent.”
John paused for a bit, then smiled. “Thank you, Dan.”
He then finished putting his painting into the frame. John himself was a rather small fellow, about five feet and two inches tall, so his painting seemed much larger (And heavier) to him than to anyone else. That was something he COULD blame on his race: Tanuki were naturally small.
John put his painting in the corner. “Phew,” he breathed, “Been painting so long, I got hungry. Looks like I’ll be getting on to the dining car.” He looked up at Dan, who had gone back to relaxing on his bunk. “You want anything?”
“Nah,” Dan said. “Don’t need anything right now.”
John nodded and exited the room.
Dan sighed. That kid was impressive, sure, but his mind was harder to navigate through than a mile-long maze with no light.
Suddenly, a knock was heard on his door. “Evening paper,” called the paperboy on the other side.
It had been a while since Dan had caught up on world events. He jumped off his bunk and answered the door. “I’ll take one.”
After the business had been conducted, Dan closed the door and went back the comfort of his bunk. He looked at the front page and was immediately shocked at the headline:
PRESIDENT BAKER PASSES LAW LEGALIZING GOVERNMENT-ISSUED TANUKI ROUND-UP Worried, Dan read through the article. It seemed the worst, as the government had ignored pleas from protestors and gone through with the Tanuki Registration bill. The government would offer huge bounties for Tanuki who were brought in alive.
“Why is he doing this?” Dan asked no one in particular. “Is he insane?!” This basically declared that being a Tanuki was against the law. God only knew what these people planned to do with Tanuki after they were brought in to the government.
And one thing was very certain: it’d become much harder for Dan to keep John’s race a secret.
* * * * * *
It was the sounds, I think, that woke her up first.
She sat straight up almost immediately, her ears perking at every sound she perceived. Cautiously, she stood up, then bent down on all fours, ready to sprint away should danger come. Her tail twitched nervously as her senses took in her surroundings.
She was very girlish in her appearance: she was a very slender specimen, had long light-brown hair and a slightly bronzed complexion. She stood slightly less than five feet tall, being a Tanuki. Her eyes shimmered as she looked about, ready for anything.
The trees that guarded the clearing she was in were some of the tallest she had ever seen. The fallen logs and tree leaves covered the clearing with some forest-ish character, and the fading light indicated that it was evening. Most likely dinnertime.
Hello there. Her ears snapped in surprise. That snide, thin voice was literally coming from nowhere. She yelped as she looked about trying to detect where that voice had come from.
Ah, frightened, are we? “Wh-Who are you?” she asked quietly.
You don’t remember? “You sound… familiar…”
I should. After all, we only met a few hours ago. Her eyes widened as she realized to whom she was talking to. “You!!” she growled, anger burning within her.
Yes, as you can recall, my name is George. “Yeah, I remember you, you ugly… ugly…” she had a hard time trying to find the appropriate words. After all, even though she had seen what this guy looked like, he was unlike anything she had ever seen.
From what she could recall, George at least held the appearance of a trickster. He wore a fancy robe, powdered white gloves, and a tall thin hat on top of his head. His head seemed to be more of a mask, as its eerie smiling expression never changed. It was like an elephant’s face complete with a trunk, and had a large toothy grin and diluted eyes.
Come to think of it, he could have passed for something out of
Alice in Wonderland.
“What are you anyway?” she asked this eerie voice in her head.
Well, since I am about to knock you out, I suppose I ought to tell you. I am a being of great mystery. Am I here in the morning, gone in the evening, or lost in the afternoon? The question is “Can a cow drive a kitchen sink?” “What are you talking about?” she asked. “You aren’t making sense. Are you a demon?”
The voice paused a bit. She could almost hear him think.
I guess you could call me that. I definitely have powers befitting a demon. Do you recall those Otherwolfs you saw at the orphanage before I burned it down? The Tanuki girl scowled as she remembered it: those strange, misshapen, howling monsters that rampaged through the orphanage, killing the nuns and priests who dwelled there. Then they got to the orphans…
“Y… Yes,” She answered finally.
Good. I made them, you see. My powers include being able to conjure mindless, otherworldly beasts to do my bidding. They are created through my imagination, and survive by killing. I call them “The Lifeless”, for they do not live JUST to live, like you or I. They live to fight. The moment they stop fighting—POOF—they’re gone, out of existence into thin air! She readied herself for whatever this freak was going to pull next. “Before you try to kill me, I want to ask you something.”
What is it now, girl? I already told you what I was and what I’m capable of doing. “What do you want with me?” she asked as she parted her arms. “Why are you chasing me?”
Because, dear girl, you are a Tanuki. You are very valuable, very precious to Lord Mephisto. The United Federal Provinces have even declared it law that all Tanuki be brought to government buildings, solely so they can be shipped to my Lord. So that was what this was all about. She snickered as she brushed off the front of her shirt. “So, I’m a prize, then? Your master is going to reward you with a bone for fetching his slippers?”
NOW who’s making a bizarre use of metaphors? She smiled as she heard the annoyed tone of this freak’s comment.
Anyway, before those I sent those Otherwolfs to kill you and all those in affiliation with you, I had never seen a Tanuki’s fighting tactics before. Now that I’ve watched you as you defeated those losers, I can come up with a Lifeless capable of defeating you.
BEHOLD!! Suddenly from the bushes sprang one of the most threatening beasts she had ever seen. It was long and slender, definitely fast. Its feral shape was adorned with black fur that had long yellow stripes across the back and sickening, long yellow barb spikes on its spine. Lightning danced between its barbs and slithered along its back. Its mouth glowed blue, and it drooled as it eyed its tasty prey.
The zenith of speed! The king of lightning! I call it the Panzer. He’ll be your playmate for now. Have fun. As the voice laughed, it echoed and disappeared. The Tanuki was relieved that he was no longer in her head, but dreaded the beast that began to circle around her, licking its radioactive lips in unholy anticipation.
* * * * * *
The pork was exceptional. The tossed salad was fit for a king. The scalloped potatoes were heavenly. This is what EVERY lunch should be, John thought, as he finished eating the main course. He eyed the scrumptious piece of banana cream pie that sat before him now, just begging to be eaten.
It had been quite some time since John had anything decent to eat, and he was more than a little afraid to part with such a delicious feast when he would eventually return to traveling on foot.
The others in the dining car were naturally minding their own beesy-wax, waiters bustling about to give people their orders, that kind of thing. It was a good thing John had developed good table manners; attention is something he’d rather not desire right now.
Now then, the banana cream pie!
However, just as he stuck his fork into the pie, a loud gunshot filled the air. “AWRIGHT, AWRIGHT!” yelled a man’s voice over all the predictable screaming and panicking. “Settle down, peeps! We’s gonna make dis simple, yeah?”
John had quickly scrambled and hid beneath his table. He could see feet wearing shoes adorned with chains, most likely the terrorists. He remained quiet as a church mouse as he listened to what was going on.
Another man’s voice demanded, “We’s got bidniss wich a Tanuki. We’s heard he was on dis train. We searched all de other cars, and dis is da las’ one we’s gotta search.”
A pair of the chained-boot feet walked in front of John’s vision. He held his breath, hoping to God that he would not start looking under tables.
“We’ll make it snappy, quick, yeah?” the man in front of John said. “OK, anybody seen dis Tanuki fella? He’s about five feet tall, dark hair, dark eyes, kinda looks like a little kid from a dissance. Anybody?”
John heard many people murmuring. If it was one word John could use to describe these guys, it was ‘sloppy.’ Did they even watch a single gangster movie? Even John knew that gangsters kidnap and assassinate in secret. Besides, why were they looking in a dining car instead of one of the cabins in front?
These guys weren’t very smart, and their so-forced-you-can-tell-they-were-fake Jersey accents kind of embellished them that way. Maybe John could outsmart them and give them the slip…
John snaked out from under the table and immediately went under the next. He repeated this process, getting closer to the door every time. Apparently, one of the gangster wannabes wasn’t as dumb as John took him for.
“Hey, hey, hey! What do we ‘ave here?”
John cursed under his breath as he heard guns click behind him. He rose slowly, raising his hands above his head. One of the men walked over to him and withdrew John’s hat, revealing his ears.
“A-HA!” he said. “We got h—”
John could hear him turn his head away. At that moment, John fell down and performed a sweeping kick that knocked his oppressor onto the floor. The other two numbskulls began to open fire on John as he leapt behind a table, knocking it over.
“Just like in the movies,” John whispered.
And, just like in the movies, the handsome hero was going to win. As the other patrons screamed and tried to run out of the dining car, John hatched a plan to get himself out of this mess. He looked upon the floor and saw a nearly empty bottle of vodka.
He grinned.
“Jerry, get to the left; flank dat sunnuvabitch!” yelled one of the attackers. Jerry strafed to the left side of the car, not about to let their prize slip away. The third guy began to get up, but the landing seemed rougher than he thought.
John stood straight up and threw the bottle of vodka at Jerry.
“crap!” Jerry yelled as he put a bullet through the bottle. Predictably, the heat of the friction ignited the alcohol and caused a small explosion of fire, distracting John’s attackers.
As Jerry’s friends covered their faces for safety, John ran towards them and knocked them over with a sliding kick. He then jumped onto a table and kicked another bottle of vodka at his oppressors.
The bottle smashed across the leader’s face. He let out a scream and began to scrape at his face as it bled through the glass stuck in it. “Dat dirty rat! K-Kill ‘im! Ferget da prize money!”
The other two shot at John again as he ducked under the table.
“Don’t tink we can’t sees youse!” said Jerry as he shot repeatedly at the cloth under the table. The other guy held up his hand, signaling Jerry to stop.
Jerry’s friend walked over, gingerly, to John’s hiding place. He raised his gun at the cloth, then grabbed it and pulled it up.
John was not there.
“What da f—”
Before he could finish, John shot through from behind and slammed the base of the bad guy’s neck with his elbow. Glass-in-the-face started shooting at John again, only to miss every shot.
At this point, both Jerry and Glass-in-the-face had run out of ammo. John folded his arms, triumphant. “Out of bullets?” he asked sarcastically.
Jerry threw down his gun. “Dis ain’t da movies, kid. Youse might got speed on you side, but youse ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He drew a knife and threw it at John’s throat.
This guy made a pretty good knife-thrower, as John was barely able to dodge the blade. It shot through a few wineglasses, then pounded into the wall.
John turned, ready to smirk at his foe, when he noticed that Jerry had jumped at him. It was too late to try dodging, so John decided to punch him away.
Unfortunately, Jerry was a LOT bigger than John was. His stocky size knocked John off the table and onto the floor, where Jerry pinned him down. “It’s payback time, freak!” Jerry spat at his cornered foe. He raised a fist, and sent it sailing for John’s face.
The aftermath was unexpected, however. Just before the blow connected, John had forced his body to turn to stone. Every bone in Jerry’s fist shattered as it connected with John’s now-impervious-to-punches mug.
Jerry yelped in surprise and jumped off John a little. A little was enough, at least, for John to change out of his stone form again and knee Jerry in the crotch. Jerry practically flew off and fell into a crumpled heap.
As John got up, he noticed that the last guy, Glass-in-the-face, was tearing a leg off a chair. “I’m gonna WHACK youse!” he threatened.
John just blinked a few times, perhaps out of boredom, perhaps out of mockery. “Come on,” he said. “Can’t you just give up? I’m not worth the prize money, you know?”
Glass spat. “Maybe not,” he gasped, “But it’s worth da revenge!”
He ran at John, swinging the chair leg multiple times. John skillfully dodged each blow as Glass began to yell between swings.
“You! Broke! My! Face! You! Dirty! Mother! Fu—”
Suddenly, John jumped up and stuffed his knee into the bad guy’s face.
“I hear plastic surgery can cure any scar,” John replied.
As John landed on the floor, Glass dropped his chair leg and wavered. Glass began to groan, and then finally fell backward onto the floor. John brushed himself off, trying to account any damages.
“Feh, thanks for taking out those losers.”
John turned immediately to see a tall, lanky guy in a business suit. He had green spiky hair, pierced ears, and red shadows beneath his eyes. He almost looked like a clown.
A threatening clown.
John stood up straight, put one hand in his pocket, and huffed. “Let me guess,” John said, “Another bounty hunter.”
The clown nodded. “You must think you’re pretty tough, beating the Hammer Brothers like that.” The clown drew a metal rod from his pocket and flicked a button on it with his thumb. The rod began to elongate.
The clown sneered. “Don’t get such a big head,” he sneered, “The Hammer Brothers were a joke. I am Kaze Youkai. I was the guy who hired these shmoes to capture you for the sole purpose of watching you fight before I made my move.”
“Pawns, hmm?” John smiled. He couldn’t believe he fell for that one: showing his enemy his battle strategies… What was he thinking?
“By the way, just so you know, the government wants you. BAD. I’m handing you over to them in exchange for a full pardon.”
John’s smile disappeared. It wasn’t as if corrupt politics was bad enough, but hiring criminals to do the dirty work was just… dirty.
“So what, you want me to lose?” John asked. “Just so you can walk away a free man?”
Youkai clicked his tongue. “Nah, that’d be boring.” His metal rod began to glow red. He slammed the rod on a nearby table, reducing it to ashes.
John gulped.
Youkai leered. “And I HATE being bored.”
In the next chapter, it's like a scene from a Wild Western movie: the good guys duking it out with the bad guys on top of a moving train. At the same time, the young mystery Tanuki is having a hell of a time "playing" with George's pet Panzer. And whatever is to become of Gray and his friends?
Stay tuned!
