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The following is the first segment of an original henshin hero fic I am writing, let me know what y'all think of it so far?
As the Teflon-coated bullets ripped through his body, he found out that all the stories of your life flashing before your eyes when you were about to die were nothing but nonsense. His knees were what made him scream the loudest as they were reduced to pulp, and he toppled gracelessly against the unmarked car he and his partner had been inâ€â€only to hit the cruel pavement as the car screeched away and left him to sprawl in the gutter, spurts of red life gushing in time with his heartbeat. All he saw flashing before his eyes at that moment were a pair of sharp boots stalking into his field of vision as his body commenced the extremely undignified process of shutting down.
A raspy, cigarette-worn voice addressed him, something about “Business is business, family is family…and you’re not family, my friend,†as he heard the hammer cocking on the firearm that would reduce him into another John Doe in the county morgue. No more golden boy of the police force, no more dreams of glory serving the community, just another cadaver with a gangland style bullet hole in his forehead.
All of a sudden, a shot rang out, but not the full-bodied roar of the guns the thugs were totingâ€â€the muffled squeal and pop of a silenced weapon. The mystery man in front of him gave a single grunt as he flopped down alongside him in the street, blood oozing from a single perfect entry wound between his eyes. At that precise moment, his world became a wash of blinding white light after a bang like a breaking light bulb sounded, and the thugs before him exploded into a chaotic wave of cursing and shouting. Even as his dying mind tried to process all this, strong hands grabbed him, jamming a needle into his upper arm even as he let out a weak cry of pain. An oddly processed voice sounded in his ear from above:
“We need to get you out of hereâ€â€that flash grenade won’t last forever!†Another weak yell came from him even as a forbidding chilly numbness swept over his body, as he was lifted up and dragged away. His savior was fast as well as strong, as he felt his legs and feet dragging on the edge of a vehicle in moments after the rescue, and doors slammed in front of him. An instant later, the vehicle’s tires squealed as it tore away from the scene, followed by gunshots. A babble of voices trading indistinct medical jargon went on over him as he felt his shirt being torn open, needles jabbing into his arms, and everything began to go gray as he still wondered what was going on…
“Officers down, four; casualties three! Target cornered in an abandoned building in Industrial Sector A-008, and it is pissed off!†That was the understatement of the year, the Armored SWAT officer thought as he listened to his superior rattle off instructions, the usual in this situation, to terminate with extreme prejudice. With a Bakemono, no other instructions were necessary, he thought as the familiar blood-chilling, electronically-enhanced screaming rang out from the condemned building like a soloist in an inhuman opera of rage that momentarily overrode the more tranquil music of the city by night. At that nightmarish sound, every man there felt his bowels turn to water and his feet threaten to turn him around to run, and it would only be the most foolish and macho who would state otherwise afterward. The vehicles surrounding the condemned warehouse were of the armored heavy assault variety, and two police helicopters were circling the building, chain guns at the readyâ€â€strictly procedure, as they knew very well it took very little provocation to roust a Bakemono from hiding, and a lot of firepower to put an appreciable dent in one of them.
Bakemono were easily the greatest threat this city had ever experienced in terms of sheer savagery and bloodlust, and had been named such after the demons of Japanese folklore which were legendary for their acts of cruelty and murder. A more appropriate name had never been imagined, and the media had pounced on it since Day 1, cranking out lurid tales of their exploits and their creator, the notorious crime lord Takara Tomoyuki. He more or less owned the districts surrounding Tokyo proper, and had had his sights on taking over Tokyo for a very long time, and it seemed that the last several months had been the beginning of his power play to do just that.
Bakemono were his shock troops and heavy artillery in one ultra-lethal package, certain soldiers (and, some said, unwilling innocents kidnapped off the streets) of his who had been rendered effectively inhuman by massive doses of the terrifically potent drug cocktail known as “Brillo†on the streets and enormous amounts of body plating and cybernetics of the very experimental and very deadly varietyâ€â€deadly to those on the receiving end of it, that is.
“Brillo†was a particularly addictive and potent derivation of PCP created by Takara’s chemists that wiped out a human’s rational mind even worse than its predecessor ever did. By the time the process was over, the human previous to the start of it was erased in favor of a more machine than meat killer which lived only to destroy all in its path, each resembling various terrifying combinations of man and beast that grew more hideous every time. And every time, it grew more and more difficult to take these things down, the team leader reflectedâ€â€what the hell was that?
Someone had dashed past him at an insane clip, bursting through the ring of SWAT team members and vehiclesâ€â€there he was, running faster than any human had a right to be running! Even as the team leader brought up his bullhorn to shout at this idiot to get out of the line of fire, he trailed off as the person in question made a stunning leap up, up, up…to the rooftop!
“Attention! Attention! Get away from the building! You could get hurt!†he blared through the bullhorn at the roof, a sinking feeling of horror in his gut as he went through the formalities of trying to get this crazy fool away from certain death. All they could do now was hope and pray that it would be quick and merciful for this poor guy who was tempting death so.
He heard the bullhorn’s brassy voice calling him, but he didn’t care. Only one thing was on his mind as the spotlights from the helicopters washed over himâ€â€take this thing down and hard. He leaped high, tucked his knees to his chest, and brought his booted feet down full force on the rooftop, caving in a hole large enough to accommodate his body with ease. Moments later, he was landing light-footed on the floor below, a drop that would have broken an average man’s legs on contact. But then, he now was far from average, wasn’t he, he thought as he swiftly began to move through the main area, pinpointing the thing’s harsh, tortured breathing in a heartbeat with his keen ears, keener than ever they’d been before.
“He did what?†the team leader spluttered in astonishment at the report he had just gotten over his walkie-talkie from the helicopter pilots above. “What is he, another plated freak like that thing in there?†This was the last thing he needed right now! A faint crashing sounded from the rooftop, and he hoped to hell that the jerk had taken the hint.
He didn’t have long to waitâ€â€a hideous shriek deafened him as he whirled, heart accelerating to fever pitch as the thing came barreling out of the shadows less than fifty feet away from him! He’d only seen the remains of Bakemono after stakeouts like this one, and they’d been ugly enough dead; alive, they were a nightmare beyond comparison. It flew across the filthy floor in an inhuman rush that would have taken down a normal man by the time he’d registered the fact of the attack, and usually by that time the man in question was a pile of red pulp. Before he even thought of it, he was soaring over its malformed head with amazing speed and grace, twisting in midair--“PHOENIX CHANGE!!!â€Ââ€â€cat-like to land on his feet in a combat stance.
It whirled, snarling as its huge steel claws gouged the floor in its trajectory change, only to witness a very strange sight, indeed. The foggy remnants of its brain faintly registered that this was a different person than it had charged at a moment ago, but it didn’t care much more than that as it charged again, intent on mowing down this weak little thing. It could taste the blood already as it closed for the kill!
He barely had time to adjust his stance when it came at him again, eyes blazing green in malevolent, bestial rage and bloodlust. And it received a rude awakening as he caught its swiping arm in one handâ€â€and kept it in midair as the thing sent him skidding backward several yards with the impetus of its charge. The other clawed hand/paw came slashing down as the thing roared in frustration, and its roars increased as that was trapped too. For a few tension-crammed seconds they strained against each other, the Bakemono experiencing shreds of surprise…and fear as it dimly realized that this was not as easy a fight as it was used to.
“You know…your breath…really…reeks!†the armored figure that was wrestling the Bakemono growled out as it snapped its arms down hard, and the cybernetic disaster howled as its arms were forced down to bring its outsized lower jaw to meet an up-thrust knee. A forceful jolt ran up his thigh at the impact, and as it squalled, he immediately released one arm to flip the monster onto its back. It hit the ground with a heavy crash and its voice was raised yet again as the arm it had been flipped by was torn off at the shoulder with a single powerful yank. Sparks flew and circuits protested as the arm came free of its moorings, and a dark jet of blood spurted out to announce the maiming in dramatic fashion. It reeled to its feet, enraged and bellowing as blood spurted down its flank, the agony nonexistent in the drug-induced haze it was in and the armored figure tossed the heavy cybernetic arm aside like a toy.
“So, you still wanna dance?†the armored stranger growled in his metallic voice at the screaming monstrosity just as it hurled itself at him again in another kamikaze rush, leading in with its huge steel teeth in a play towards catching a limb in those jaws of death. An indescribable blur of action resulted in the stranger catching the thing in a viselike headlock that had him staggering with the impact of its charge, and a brittle crunch sounded as he wrenched that misshapen head to the right with a grunt of exertion. A muted squeak was the only response from the Bakemono as it went limp, its remaining hand’s claws scraping on the floor of the warehouse as it was unceremoniously dropped flat on its face.
Quickly now, he thought as he whipped out a metal rod from the holster on his thigh and twisted it. A sharp ka-chink announced the popping out of a slender spike about eight inches long, and he dropped to one knee to ram the spike with precision into the back of the paralyzed thing’s skull. The blazing green eyes went out instantly, like a plug had been pulled, and the Bakemono slumped limp and dead. But as he yanked out the spike, he heard the sounds of the front door of the warehouse being smashed in!
“Police, freeze! Drop your weapon and remain still! Put your hands where I can see ‘em, right now!â€Â
There was a window right nearby, he noticed as the voice barked out that command, and without even thinking he charged towards it, ignorant of the bullets whining around him like angry wasps. Heedless of the police behind him yelling orders, he dove through the window with a crash, making a perfect swan dive to the waters below. With lightning-swift strokes, he put plenty of distance between himself and the scene he’d just left, his oxygen tank kicking in seconds after he hit the water. There was enough air in there to get him back to the agreed-upon meeting place with minimal trouble, he thought as he kept swimming…
As the Teflon-coated bullets ripped through his body, he found out that all the stories of your life flashing before your eyes when you were about to die were nothing but nonsense. His knees were what made him scream the loudest as they were reduced to pulp, and he toppled gracelessly against the unmarked car he and his partner had been inâ€â€only to hit the cruel pavement as the car screeched away and left him to sprawl in the gutter, spurts of red life gushing in time with his heartbeat. All he saw flashing before his eyes at that moment were a pair of sharp boots stalking into his field of vision as his body commenced the extremely undignified process of shutting down.
A raspy, cigarette-worn voice addressed him, something about “Business is business, family is family…and you’re not family, my friend,†as he heard the hammer cocking on the firearm that would reduce him into another John Doe in the county morgue. No more golden boy of the police force, no more dreams of glory serving the community, just another cadaver with a gangland style bullet hole in his forehead.
All of a sudden, a shot rang out, but not the full-bodied roar of the guns the thugs were totingâ€â€the muffled squeal and pop of a silenced weapon. The mystery man in front of him gave a single grunt as he flopped down alongside him in the street, blood oozing from a single perfect entry wound between his eyes. At that precise moment, his world became a wash of blinding white light after a bang like a breaking light bulb sounded, and the thugs before him exploded into a chaotic wave of cursing and shouting. Even as his dying mind tried to process all this, strong hands grabbed him, jamming a needle into his upper arm even as he let out a weak cry of pain. An oddly processed voice sounded in his ear from above:
“We need to get you out of hereâ€â€that flash grenade won’t last forever!†Another weak yell came from him even as a forbidding chilly numbness swept over his body, as he was lifted up and dragged away. His savior was fast as well as strong, as he felt his legs and feet dragging on the edge of a vehicle in moments after the rescue, and doors slammed in front of him. An instant later, the vehicle’s tires squealed as it tore away from the scene, followed by gunshots. A babble of voices trading indistinct medical jargon went on over him as he felt his shirt being torn open, needles jabbing into his arms, and everything began to go gray as he still wondered what was going on…
“Officers down, four; casualties three! Target cornered in an abandoned building in Industrial Sector A-008, and it is pissed off!†That was the understatement of the year, the Armored SWAT officer thought as he listened to his superior rattle off instructions, the usual in this situation, to terminate with extreme prejudice. With a Bakemono, no other instructions were necessary, he thought as the familiar blood-chilling, electronically-enhanced screaming rang out from the condemned building like a soloist in an inhuman opera of rage that momentarily overrode the more tranquil music of the city by night. At that nightmarish sound, every man there felt his bowels turn to water and his feet threaten to turn him around to run, and it would only be the most foolish and macho who would state otherwise afterward. The vehicles surrounding the condemned warehouse were of the armored heavy assault variety, and two police helicopters were circling the building, chain guns at the readyâ€â€strictly procedure, as they knew very well it took very little provocation to roust a Bakemono from hiding, and a lot of firepower to put an appreciable dent in one of them.
Bakemono were easily the greatest threat this city had ever experienced in terms of sheer savagery and bloodlust, and had been named such after the demons of Japanese folklore which were legendary for their acts of cruelty and murder. A more appropriate name had never been imagined, and the media had pounced on it since Day 1, cranking out lurid tales of their exploits and their creator, the notorious crime lord Takara Tomoyuki. He more or less owned the districts surrounding Tokyo proper, and had had his sights on taking over Tokyo for a very long time, and it seemed that the last several months had been the beginning of his power play to do just that.
Bakemono were his shock troops and heavy artillery in one ultra-lethal package, certain soldiers (and, some said, unwilling innocents kidnapped off the streets) of his who had been rendered effectively inhuman by massive doses of the terrifically potent drug cocktail known as “Brillo†on the streets and enormous amounts of body plating and cybernetics of the very experimental and very deadly varietyâ€â€deadly to those on the receiving end of it, that is.
“Brillo†was a particularly addictive and potent derivation of PCP created by Takara’s chemists that wiped out a human’s rational mind even worse than its predecessor ever did. By the time the process was over, the human previous to the start of it was erased in favor of a more machine than meat killer which lived only to destroy all in its path, each resembling various terrifying combinations of man and beast that grew more hideous every time. And every time, it grew more and more difficult to take these things down, the team leader reflectedâ€â€what the hell was that?
Someone had dashed past him at an insane clip, bursting through the ring of SWAT team members and vehiclesâ€â€there he was, running faster than any human had a right to be running! Even as the team leader brought up his bullhorn to shout at this idiot to get out of the line of fire, he trailed off as the person in question made a stunning leap up, up, up…to the rooftop!
“Attention! Attention! Get away from the building! You could get hurt!†he blared through the bullhorn at the roof, a sinking feeling of horror in his gut as he went through the formalities of trying to get this crazy fool away from certain death. All they could do now was hope and pray that it would be quick and merciful for this poor guy who was tempting death so.
He heard the bullhorn’s brassy voice calling him, but he didn’t care. Only one thing was on his mind as the spotlights from the helicopters washed over himâ€â€take this thing down and hard. He leaped high, tucked his knees to his chest, and brought his booted feet down full force on the rooftop, caving in a hole large enough to accommodate his body with ease. Moments later, he was landing light-footed on the floor below, a drop that would have broken an average man’s legs on contact. But then, he now was far from average, wasn’t he, he thought as he swiftly began to move through the main area, pinpointing the thing’s harsh, tortured breathing in a heartbeat with his keen ears, keener than ever they’d been before.
“He did what?†the team leader spluttered in astonishment at the report he had just gotten over his walkie-talkie from the helicopter pilots above. “What is he, another plated freak like that thing in there?†This was the last thing he needed right now! A faint crashing sounded from the rooftop, and he hoped to hell that the jerk had taken the hint.
He didn’t have long to waitâ€â€a hideous shriek deafened him as he whirled, heart accelerating to fever pitch as the thing came barreling out of the shadows less than fifty feet away from him! He’d only seen the remains of Bakemono after stakeouts like this one, and they’d been ugly enough dead; alive, they were a nightmare beyond comparison. It flew across the filthy floor in an inhuman rush that would have taken down a normal man by the time he’d registered the fact of the attack, and usually by that time the man in question was a pile of red pulp. Before he even thought of it, he was soaring over its malformed head with amazing speed and grace, twisting in midair--“PHOENIX CHANGE!!!â€Ââ€â€cat-like to land on his feet in a combat stance.
It whirled, snarling as its huge steel claws gouged the floor in its trajectory change, only to witness a very strange sight, indeed. The foggy remnants of its brain faintly registered that this was a different person than it had charged at a moment ago, but it didn’t care much more than that as it charged again, intent on mowing down this weak little thing. It could taste the blood already as it closed for the kill!
He barely had time to adjust his stance when it came at him again, eyes blazing green in malevolent, bestial rage and bloodlust. And it received a rude awakening as he caught its swiping arm in one handâ€â€and kept it in midair as the thing sent him skidding backward several yards with the impetus of its charge. The other clawed hand/paw came slashing down as the thing roared in frustration, and its roars increased as that was trapped too. For a few tension-crammed seconds they strained against each other, the Bakemono experiencing shreds of surprise…and fear as it dimly realized that this was not as easy a fight as it was used to.
“You know…your breath…really…reeks!†the armored figure that was wrestling the Bakemono growled out as it snapped its arms down hard, and the cybernetic disaster howled as its arms were forced down to bring its outsized lower jaw to meet an up-thrust knee. A forceful jolt ran up his thigh at the impact, and as it squalled, he immediately released one arm to flip the monster onto its back. It hit the ground with a heavy crash and its voice was raised yet again as the arm it had been flipped by was torn off at the shoulder with a single powerful yank. Sparks flew and circuits protested as the arm came free of its moorings, and a dark jet of blood spurted out to announce the maiming in dramatic fashion. It reeled to its feet, enraged and bellowing as blood spurted down its flank, the agony nonexistent in the drug-induced haze it was in and the armored figure tossed the heavy cybernetic arm aside like a toy.
“So, you still wanna dance?†the armored stranger growled in his metallic voice at the screaming monstrosity just as it hurled itself at him again in another kamikaze rush, leading in with its huge steel teeth in a play towards catching a limb in those jaws of death. An indescribable blur of action resulted in the stranger catching the thing in a viselike headlock that had him staggering with the impact of its charge, and a brittle crunch sounded as he wrenched that misshapen head to the right with a grunt of exertion. A muted squeak was the only response from the Bakemono as it went limp, its remaining hand’s claws scraping on the floor of the warehouse as it was unceremoniously dropped flat on its face.
Quickly now, he thought as he whipped out a metal rod from the holster on his thigh and twisted it. A sharp ka-chink announced the popping out of a slender spike about eight inches long, and he dropped to one knee to ram the spike with precision into the back of the paralyzed thing’s skull. The blazing green eyes went out instantly, like a plug had been pulled, and the Bakemono slumped limp and dead. But as he yanked out the spike, he heard the sounds of the front door of the warehouse being smashed in!
“Police, freeze! Drop your weapon and remain still! Put your hands where I can see ‘em, right now!â€Â
There was a window right nearby, he noticed as the voice barked out that command, and without even thinking he charged towards it, ignorant of the bullets whining around him like angry wasps. Heedless of the police behind him yelling orders, he dove through the window with a crash, making a perfect swan dive to the waters below. With lightning-swift strokes, he put plenty of distance between himself and the scene he’d just left, his oxygen tank kicking in seconds after he hit the water. There was enough air in there to get him back to the agreed-upon meeting place with minimal trouble, he thought as he kept swimming…
