Pearson Mui The Strange Medium Guy with a Bad Haircut (aka Pearson Mui) with Martin "PCHammer" Rose and James "Mechaman" Rinehart present Anime Detective: Crossover Crisis (Thanks to everybody who wrote to me about the first Anime Detective story. I didn't know it'd get this far! :-)) It was your average spring day in the city. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and any poor sap who had to work today was really ticked off that they had to. Like me, for example. Wouldn't you know it? I'd rather be somewhere...*anywhere*...other than the precinct on a day like this. It's just too damn nice to stick inside a stuffy office filling out paperwork. I grumble a greeting as I pass by Stan's office, then open up my own door. The office isn't exactly all that roomy, but hey...it'll do the job. Now, let's see what's on my desk for...wait a minute. There's nothing on my desk. No cases, no reports...NO PAPERWORK! I don't believe it. I don't think I've ever had a day without paperwork since I first graduated from the police academy. Must be a slow day or something. Well...I'm not exactly arguing. Hell, I'm not arguing one bit. I plopped myself onto the chair and propped up my feet on the desk. Hmm...what should I do? Maybe I could catch up on some of my sci-fi reading. Or, maybe I could dial up Nene and have that co-op game of Doom we never have time for. I always wondered how the hell she could have a hardsuit arm instead of a shotgun in that game. Hold that thought, somebody's at my door. Correction, somebody seems to be *leaning* on my door. Rising from my desk, I open the door, and in she falls, the "she" in question being a Goddess, who falls right into my arms. No, I'm not exaggerating...the girl in my arms really *is* a Goddess; Belldandy, to be precise. The poor kid looks exhausted. Funny...I didn't think that Animates could get so tired. Good thing I've got a sofa in this place. I've had to crash on it more times than I really wanna remember. It's more comfortable than it looks, which isn't saying much. Now, seeing as how I can't hold onto her all day (if Ryo were here, he'd gladly volunteer to relieve me of that burden, about 2 seconds before I smack him one.), I gently put her on the sofa. She looks so peaceful...cut it out, Mays. Stick to business, I remind myself. But still...it seems like a damn shame that I have to wake her up. "Belldandy?" I ask quietly, trying to wake her up. "You okay?" "Mmm...Keiichi-san?" she mumbled. "Uhh, sorry...wrong guy." I don't look *anything* like Keiichi Morisato. She sprang fully awake. Well, it was more like a lethargic struggle to wake up. "Oh! Detective Mays! I..." she demurely covered her mouth as she yawned. "Excuse me..." she said as she blushed. "It's all right. Y'know," I comment, "I don't think I've ever seen you this tired before. Heck, I don't think I've seen *any* Animate this tired." "I've been working for the last twenty hours or so. Several producers kept calling me for the strangest projects." "For instance?" She produced several scripts from her version of Who Knows Where and handed them to me. Lessee..."Oh! My Tenchi?" "The Goddess Wars?" "Ah! Ranma-sama?" The last one threw me for a loop. "Urotsuki Goddess?!" I exclaimed aloud. Ewwww.... "I refused *that* one," she stated. "They...wanted me to work with the Overfiend." she blushed. "Crimanately...who the hel--*ahem* HECK wrote these things?" I caught myself. No sense swearing in front of a Goddess. "I don't know. Their names aren't on the script." Hmmm.... "Is this happening to everyone, or just you?" "As far as I know, a lot of Animates seem to be getting scripts similar to this." "Greeaaat..." "Is something the matter?" she asked, worried. "Nah...that's okay. Really," I said, waving her off. If anything, Belldandy needs her rest. 'Course, Ryo might have something to say about it, but I think I can handle him. "Go ahead and rest, don't worry about me." "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I'm sure. Get some sleep," I tell her. "Thank you..." is all she manages before she dozes off. Poor kid. This is not good. If enough Animates were making these horrible crossovers, sooner or later people'll stop buying their movies and OVA's (or is it OAV's? I can never keep 'em straight.). Basically, what you have here is an Atari effect, where, if you flood the market with enough crappy merchandise, the whole market'll collapse, and all those Animates'll be outta work. I shuddered as I thought of the possibilities. I didn't get too far when I heard a very high-pitched scream outside in the hallway. Correction, it's high-pitched, drawn-out, and it seems to be heading my way. I readied my one-ton mallet, just in case. "EEEEYYAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!" The source of the scream burst into my office at a run, her red hair flowing behind her and her emerald-green eyes widened in terror. Nene? What's *she* doing here? I didn't get a chance to wonder anything else before she ducked behind me, obviously terrified at what was pursuing her. "ANDY! Help me! He's after me!" "`He?'" I repeated. Y'know, somehow, when she calls me "Andy," it sounds less annoying, so I let it drop for now. "Oi, Nene-chan!" Ryo called as he entered the doorway, a huge lecherous grin on his face. I could also make out some drool dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. He was holding a bunch of papers in his hands, and it looked a lot like a script. Another one of those damn scripts, I guess, but what could set Ryo off like this and send Nene screaming for cover? "Get this thing AWAY from me!" Nene screamed, backing away from Ryo. "It says here we're supposed to do a scene together," Ryo said, leering. "Scene? What *kind* of scene?" I ask. "And guys...keep it down, okay? Belldandy's trying to get some sleep, here." I tell them in a harsh whisper. Uh-oh...big mistake. I didn't think that grin of Ryo's could get any wider, but it did. "Ahh...Sleeping Beauty, I presume? All she needs now is a ki-URKK!" I grab him by the tie (part of the dress code on the force) and bring him to a quick halt. "Don't. Even. Try," I warned him, tightening the knot. "Now, why don't you be a good boy and get some coffee or something? I like mine black with two sugars. Understand?" He nodded, his face turning blue. I let go, and he gasped for breath. About five heavy pants later, he lunged once again for Belldandy, but a quick knock across the head with my mallet convinced him otherwise. He slunk out of the office to the coffeemaker. "Ryo?" He stopped in his tracks, looking faintly annoyed. "What?" "The script..." He grumbled a bit, but handed it over. Lessee now...not much plot here. Seems to be a lotta scenes where Nene's in the shower...then Ryo comes in, and-- Ewwww....Ryo and Nene, TOGETHER, in the same BATHROOM?! No wonder she ran away from him. "Umm..." Nene just kinda stared at her feet, blushing. "I guess you know why, huh?" "I don't blame you, kid. Not one bit." It was about that time that Ryo returned with the coffee, and I grabbed myself a cup. "So, what'd you think?" he asked, that grin beginning to form on his face. "I kinda like page 25, but 37's also pretty good. Any favorite pages for you, Andy?" Right now, I just want to wipe that smirk off his face. "Not really," I grated. "I prefer something with more plot. Oh, Ryo?" "Yeah?" Y'know, there are times when Ryo is actually tolerable. Mostly, this is when we're in the middle of a case, and he has to take something out with his gun. The rest of the time, he's just damn annoying. I think I've told him about a dozen times a day not to call me "Andy." The hell with it...I'm getting sick of wasting my breath. "EAT MALLET AND DIE, SAEBA!!!" I bellowed, letting him have it with my weapon. THUD! "OWWW!" WHAM! "YAAAHHH!" CRUNCH! "OOoooohhh...oh, no...not there! Any place but there!" he pleaded. Not that it'll do him much good. "Ladies, close your eyes. This won't be pretty." WHUMP!!!! "Uuuunnnhhhhh...." Hoo...boy, if you hit him there, he just folds up like a table! I'll have to remember that if I ever have to put him in storage. "If someone would care to open up the window...I'm going to throw out the trash." I say with a grin. "You're not going to throw him out there, are you?" Nene asked, her big green eyes wide in shock. "Kid, I've seen him take a dive off a ten-story building and land in a crater in the street. Five seconds later, when a girl in a skirt came by, he popped his head out of the crater and asked her to go with him to a hotel. Believe me, this *won't* kill him, since we're only on the second floor." Somehow, she didn't look all that convinced, but she opened a window anyway. I punted Ryo outside, and he landed with a thud. I watched outside the window as, less than two seconds later, he asked a nearby girl if she needed a 100% loyal bodyguard for the day. Naturally, she started hitting him with her purse. "See what I mean? Didn't even faze him." "Did something happen?" Belldandy asked from the sofa. "Nah, nothing important. Go back to sleep, okay?" "All right..." "What now, Andy?" "First things first. I'm gonna take some of these scripts down to Forensics, see if the guys down there can't find anything. Then, I'm gonna take a spin over to the Writer's Guild to see if any of those nuts had a hand in these." "Do you mind if I tag along?" "Uhh...no, I don't mind...but aren't you supposed to be working?" "It's my day off." "Oh," That sorta explains why she's not in her uniform. "Well, I guess you could follow me in that scooter of---waitasec. Where's your helmet?" She looked down at her shoes again. "With my scooter...in the mall parking lot." "You sprinted the five blocks from there to here?" "I had a pretty good incentive. Besides, I didn't have enough time to get on my scooter and start it." "Ah. Well, I hope you don't mind riding along with me, kid." So, this is the Writer's Guild, hm? Nice place. Well, actually, it looks a helluva lot like that sanitarium in the Batman comics...what was the name? Oh yeah, Arkham Asylum. It sure as hell looks like it, what with all the bars on the windows, those iron gates, and those big guys dressed like orderlies. Funny, isn't this supposed to be a place where people do some *work*? Ah well...I guess there's some truth to the rumor that the writers in there are just a tad on the crazy side. "Stick close, Nene," I tell her as we approach the gate. "I've never been here before, so we'd better be careful." "Right," she replied uneasily. Poor kid looked kinda spooked. "What kind of place *is* this?" she murmured. I put my hand on her shoulder. She didn't seem to mind. "Hopefully, one we don't have to visit again." The inside of the Guild was a little more comforting than the outside, but not by much. There were cubicles everywhere, filled with word processors (or for the really masochistic, old typewriters without correction fluid) which the writers would type endlessly at, making a continuous _clackety- clackety_ sound. The writers looked pale, the rings under their eyes told me that they'd had too little rest and *way* too much coffee (I know...I've done that a couple of times myself), and they were chained by the legs. I took a closer look and saw that the cubicles themselves were padded. Boy, this is doing wonders for my confidence in original thinking. In the center of the vast room, there was a wheel-of-fortune type deal, which was labeled as the "Wheel of Ideas." I noticed that a good third of the wheel was taken up by a wedge with the words "Resurrect a villain you've already killed off." Other wedges included "clones/evil duplicates," "time-travel," "mindless slugfest," "deus ex machina," "amnesia," and "let Priss live." I'm not kidding about the last one. That really *is* on there. "They must've used this when they were writing Bubblegum Crash number 3," Nene commented. "Yeah," I agreed. "Y'know, I always wondered where all those corny cliches came from," "And?" she prompted. "I suddenly have this urge to rip that wheel off the wall and toss it into the ocean." "Well, do it later," she whispered. "We've got company...HI!" she raised her voice at the end. I turned around to see a petite brunette walking towards me. She looks like a teen-age...whoops, waitasec. Nope, she's definitely older than a teenager. She dresses too conservatively. "Detective Mays," she called out. "How do you do? I'm Sherri." "How's it going?" I greet her, shaking her hand. "This is..." "Nene Romanova, yes, I know. I'm sorry to hear about Bubblegum Cra---" "Ahem! Ahem! Sorry...throat's a little dry," I lie. The last thing the kid needs is to focus on that old series. She smiled politely. "I know what you mean. Sometimes my voice-acting leaves my throat like the Sahara desert. Do you want some coffee?" "Ah..." Better be on the safe side. I don't think I want to know what they put in their coffee over here. "No thanks. I've already had two cups, and I'm trying to cut down." She didn't get a chance to respond to that, mainly because there's a lot of noise near the center of the "workroom." She looked up in disgust, muttering something about "oh no, not them again." "HENRY! The boys at the center are making trouble again!" she yelled. "I'm on it, Sherri." one of the orderlies grunts. "C'mon, you...back in your cage! Yeah, you too! Why the hell don't you guys just give up and leave the scripts alone, huh?!" "Problems?" I ask her. "Oh, nothing big. Just a couple of Streamline writers who think they can change things around." "Why am I not surprised?" I mutter. "REPENT!" One of the crazies yells out from his cage. "Macek is the key to the flourishing of anime, for only by changing the story can we hope to cater to the masses!" Crimanately, that guy's nuts. "'Scuse me for a sec." I walk up to the guy's cage, where a wild-eyed man was clutching at the bars. "You, sir! Are you a believer in the dubbed anime as only Uncle Carl can dub it?" "Not really. Can you do me a favor, though?" "Name it." WHANG! I knock my mallet across the bars, and they rang rather nicely. "Keep the babble down, or next time, this *won't* just hit your bars." The guy, understandably, fell silent. Okay, so it wasn't exactly very tactful of me, but hey--it worked, didn't it? "Okay, now...where was I?" "The scripts..." Nene reminded me, looking a tad nervous. Guess she doesn't want to stay here anymore than she has to. Not that I blame her. "Oh yeah. Well," I pull out some of the scripts from Who Knows Where. "I've been finding the oddest situations in these scripts, and I was wondering, since you're part of the Writer's Guild, if you knew who these were from." She hmmed, pulling out some glasses as she skimmed through the scripts. Once in a while, she'd grimace. "I can tell you this, Detective. Nobody here wrote these scripts. Despite what you may think, we do write better than this." "D'you have any idea who might be sending these things out? Somebody you've rejected, maybe?" "That could be a problem. We've rejected a *lot* of people over the years." "I see. Well, if anything else turns up, feel free to lemme know, okay?" "That turned out to be a total waste of time." I grumbled as the two of us headed towards the car. "At least that rules out the Guild." "Maybe. But I'm still not sure--" I cut off my ramblings as I noticed that two Animates were intercepting us about 30 feet from the car. One of them had long lavender hair, swimsuit-style clothing with a faceplate, and a very lethal-looking rocket launcher. The other was taller, with flowing red hair, somewhat smaller eyes, and a haughtiness that comes from thinking you're the prettiest thing in the universe. Whaddya know, it's B-ko and Lady Grandis Grambar from Nadia. "Morning, ladies. What can I do for you?" "I've heard..." B-ko began. "`We' have heard." Grandis corrected. "All right, `we,'" B-ko repeated, looking just the faintest bit annoyed with the redhead. "have heard that you're investigating several unusual scripts that have appeared." "Basically, yeah. Why? Have you come across one of 'em?" Geez, word gets around pretty fast around here. Barely two hours, and they've heard about it. "Before we answer that question," Grandis interrupted as B-ko was about to reply, "We'd like to know what you are going to do with these scripts." Shrug. "Chuck 'em in a big recycling bin. I mean, from what I've seen, they're pretty horrible. Nobody wants to make 'em, so--is there a good reason why you're pointing that rocket launcher at me, or do I have that effect on you?" "Well, we won't *allow* you to do that." Grandis stated. "`Allow?' 'Scuse me, but d'you mind if I ask *why* you're not going to *allow* me to check this out?" Rustle rustle. Grandis produced a sheaf of papers from out of nowhere. Carefully, I scanned through it. Hm. Seems like B-ko finally gets to squish A-ko, and Grandis gets her fortune back. 'Course, she *was* vain enough to let some guy squander it, but I don't think it'd be a good idea to bring that up. "Ah. I take it you want to keep it this way?" Grandis nodded, and B-ko continued to hold her launcher steady. Hoo boy. It doesn't look like they're gonna let us through anytime soon, and I *know* I'm not fast enough to take that launcher without being splattered all through the city. I don't think Nene had being blasted in mind when she took her vacation day. My God, I'm going to be killed by an inventor of weird mecha and the world's most vain female Animate. Not exactly the way I want to go--- Hold on a sec. I think I've got an idea. "Okay, ladies," I say, raising my arms in surrender, "You've got me. But, seeing as how there's only one of me and two of you...just to be fair, I'm afraid I can only surrender myself to the prettiest." "Which would be me, of course." Grandis interrupted. "YOU?!" B-ko asked, obviously not agreeing. "Get back, kid...this is gonna get messy." I mutter to Nene. "Now, wait a minute!" B-ko roared. "What do you mean by that?! I've seen better...in the mirror!" "Surely you can not be comparing yourself to *me*? I *am* from a noble bloodline, you know." "Ha! I look better than you on your best day when I'm barely awake! And are you saying that the Daitokuji family isn't up to your standards?" "Your family should be sweeping floors!" "Well, at least we have *money*, not like you." "THAT was low. My situation was merely an oversight." "OVERSIGHT?! You have to rely on crime!" "Oh, and all you have to do is rely on your rich daddy!" "I think we'd better bug out of here, kid." I whisper to Nene, beating a hasty retreat to my car. I gun it outta there, and about thirty seconds later, I hear the multiple explosions of B-ko's mini-missiles. Ooo...that's gonna leave a mark on Lady Grandis. I steer towards the highway, merging with traffic until we get to the mall. "Tell me something, Andy. Weren't you taking a big risk back there?" "Nah, not really. Neither of 'em was the prettiest." I told her, looking right at the kid. She must've gotten the hint because she started blushing cutely. "Umm..." "A `thank you' would be nice," I added dryly. "...thanks..." "Hey, no problem. Aaaand...aha! I think I've found your scooter." "You have?" "Well, it's the only one there. Kinda sticks out among all those motorcycles, doesn't it?" "Yyeah..." she said uncomfortably. "Whatever gets you there and back, kid. Lemme know if you find something, okay?" "Okay," she chirped, getting out. Before closing the door, she popped her head back in. "Um, Andy?" "Yeah?" "I...don't suppose we could...maybe sorta...go somewhere later?" she fidgeted. "Business or otherwise?" Duh! The way she's shifting around, it's definitely "otherwise." "If it's otherwise, I know this great Chinese place a couple of blocks east of here." "You do? That's great! Umm...when?" "I'll call you." "Promise?" "I promise." "Okay..." she said, sorta unsteadily. "I guess I'll see you later, then." "Be good, kid." As an answer, she just gives me this smile which could probably be classified as blinding. Whoa. I was rudely jolted out of my contemplation when the explosions of several mini-missiles ballooned near the highway. Oh, great...I forgot about B-ko and Grandis. I thought they would've knocked each other out by-- Uh-oh. Looks like Grandis decided to bring in the heavy artillery. The Gratan submarine is plodding its way through the city. All right, so it looks extremely silly while it's wrecking the city, but still. This *is* my city, y'know. The question is, how the hell am I gonna lay a cease-and-desist order on B-ko and Grandis? My car's not *that* tough. Think I'd better call for backup. Who, though? Briareos from Appleseed? Nah. He could stop that thing, yeah, but probably only for a couple of minutes. Somehow, I don't think that B-ko would let up while doing that. I'd hate to put the guy in the position of listening to her laugh. He might even become mildly annoyed. Maybe I could convince Leona to take a spin in Bonaparte. Nope, that wouldn't work. The second that mini-tank got scratched, she'd go nutsoid, probably laying waste to more property than what's already being leveled. That rules her out. What I need is something that'll stop the two of 'em *cold*, something neither of them can afford to ignore. Just about then, my car decided to jump up and down. TROMP! Hey, what the hell?! TROMP! That almost sounds like footsteps! TROMP! And whatever it is, it's gotta be humongous. I roll down my window and take a look outside. Oh, that figures. Looks like Daisaku's taking Giant Robo out for a wal-- Giant Robo? Hmmmmmmm....just what I need. I grabbed my radio and turned on the loudspeaker option. "Hey, Daisaku!" "Hi Detective!" he yelled back. "Just going for a ride with Robo!" Perfect. "Well, I have a little problem. Would you mind steering Robo a little to your left? Right where that silly-looking thing is--yeah, right there. Just a little more--" STOMP! KLUNK! Robo stepped on the Gratan *and* B-ko, neatly pinning the two to the ground. I could almost imagine the surprise of those two ladies, that is, if they weren't already eating concrete. "PER-FECT! Now, just hold those two there for a little bit, okay?" "Um...all right." Daisaku replied, just a little confused. I switched my radio off of loudspeaker mode. Time to radio for some backup. "'Lo, McNichol? Yeah, this is Mays. Look, I've got a couple of perps I want you to get. The charge? Well, I think you might wanna check their License to Run Rampant (tm). Where? Well, lemme put it this way: If you see Giant Robo anywhere in the area, you're on the right track. Oh, and Leon? I'd be *reallly* nice to Daisaku if you wanted to get those two out." The ride back wasn't too bad, all things considered. Oh, sure, Leon bitched me out a bit, but I think he was glad to get out of the office. Crimanately. This has been a helluva day. Ah, well. What'd I expect? Like they say, "I knew the job was weird, dangerous, and sometimes unfulfilling when I took it." Might as well check out how things are going at the office. I didn't get very far past the front desk of the precinct when "Detective? We've got a bunch of Animates at the front desk, and..." "Lemme guess. They're complaining about scripts, right?" "Yeah. How'd you...?" "Don't ask." Sigh. "Send 'em to a waiting room, and put up a sign for this kinda thing, okay? I'll be right with 'em as soon as I check out the office." "Oookay." He just looked at me oddly, and then shrugged. Why do I have this sudden urge to hum "Send in the clowns?" "Whaddya *mean* you wanna get back to the Power Rangers show?!" Whoop. Sounds like Stan's having a bad day. "No, really! If I go back, the show'll be better!" "What about the current Red Ranger?" Stan asked from behind his door. "Hang on, hang on. There's a simple test to see if you can go back." "Which is?" "Just follow my arm movements." WHISHWHISHWHOOFWHOOFWHISH. I could hear the guy grunt. "Okay, I get the point." "Lemme get the door for ya." The door opened, and a guy with very tangled arms walked out, a sheepish look on his face. "Come back when you can untangle yourself." "Hey, Stan. Minor trouble with the former Red Ranger?" Groan. "Saban sent him to me when he started bugging them (thank you *very* much). The guy wants back in because he thinks that the show's become lame since he and the others left." I couldn't help but smirk at that statement. "I'm not gonna say it. It's too damn easy." "Better not. Oh, I heard about what you did with Giant Robo. Funny, I thought *I* was supposed to call on the giant robot." "Ha ha. Hey, it worked, didn't it?" "True," Stan admitted. "And you didn't even have to call upon the power of thunder to do so." CRACKATHOOM! Thunder? On a clear day? This is just a *litle* bit odd. "Have I ever told you that you scare me, sometimes?" I ask him. "I think there were a few occasions, yes," Sigh. "Now I've gotta deal with this old lady who sprayed Raid on Kamen Rider. This'll be fun." "I'd better get some work done, too." I said awkwardly. That guy is *weird*. Hm...is it my imagination, or does the office seem...cleaner? "Oh, hello, Detective." Belldandy says to me, dusting off my desk. "Hey. How d'you feel?" "Much better, thanks. I hope you don't mind, but..." "But?" "I decided to clean up a bit. Did I do something wrong?" she asked me, noticing the fact that I was gaping at the office. "Uh...no, that's fine. Really, it's okay." If there's anything I hate to see, it's Belldandy in anything other than a good mood. I don't think I could take seeing her cry. Call it a weakness. "Thanks." "You're welcome. I think I'd better go home, now. Keiichi-san must be wondering where I am." "Um...yeah. There should be a mirror in the ladies' room that you can use. I dunno for sure, since I've never been there, but..." Did that sound as lame as I thought it did? Not that it mattered much anyway. With a smile and a nod of thanks, she was off. I sighed, plopping myself onto the desk. Maybe now, things'll settle down a little. "Rrghh..guh...whoawhoawhoa! Hey, Detective! I could use a little help out here! Anytime you're ready!" No such luck. Judging by the voice, I'd say that it was Ranma who's a knockin' on my door. Sounds like he's carrying something really heavy. Hmm...I dunno. Should I open the door, or should I just pretend I'm not here? I really don't want to see anybody else today, and I could sure use some rest. Besides, it's only Ranma. It's not like the Chief's pounding on my door or anything. Also, he was stupid enough to not head to the waiting room with the others. On the other hand, he might actually have something of interest to show me. Besides, I can't really discriminate who I help out. It wouldn't be fair. And, even though he's an immature shmuck, he still deserves some help. So, I guess I have to open the door for the guy. Nobody says that I have to open it *quickly*, though. I open up, and what do I see but a Shaquille O'Neal-sized stack of paper wearing blue silk pants at my door. "Having problems, Ranma?" I ask oh-so-politely. "Rrg...yeah, you could say that. Why don't'cha gimme a hand, here?" "I'll be glad to." I clapped quietly, kinda like the clapping you find at golf tournaments. "Very funny," he said sulkily. "I thought it was." "No, I *mean* it...why don't'cha take some of this off my hands?" "If you insist..." I reach for the bottom-most script, and yank it from his grasp. The result was, of course, a rather gratifying avalanche of paper, most of which landed directly on the Animate's head, spreading around him like leaves in the fall. Ranma popped out of the stack, looking just a little on the peeved side. "What'd you do *that* for?!" "Hey, I was only trying to help you out." "Oh, yeah, right. What'd I do to deserve this, anyway?!" "What can I say, Ranma? It's the price you pay for being so popular," I told him, trying to keep a smirk off my face. "Oh, BTW, I wouldn't do this script. `Living Dead 1/2?' Ick. But, of course, if you *want* to...who am I to stop you?" "Y'think that's bad? It gets worse. I know there are some twisted people out there, but check this one out." He handed me another script. I flip through the pages. My God, this is *disgusting*! A lemon script involving Ranma and Tuxedo Kamen?! Bleagh. Not much plot, that's for sure. Now I know why they call 'em lemons. They leave a sour taste in my mouth. Supressing a shudder, I toss the script into a recycling bin which Just Happened to be Nearby (a phenomenon similar to Who Knows Where). "You've really gotta find this guy, Detective." "No kidding." Hm. Guess I should check out who's in the waiting room. What was that quote? Oh yeah..."into the valley of death rode the six hundred..." It seemed appropriate. "Hey, what're you guys doing here?" I ask. After all, it's not every day that two martial artists volunteer to be within 50 feet of each other without destroying lots of property. The weird part is that kid...what's his name? Oh yeah...Sho from BGC 3. Haven't seen him in a while. "We hear that you've been trying to trace the source of these scripts." Ryu replied. "Wait a sec here...are you trying to tell me that all three of you are involved in one of these scripts?" "See for yourself." Kenshiro handed me a script which read "Two Martial Artists and an Orphan." This does *not* sound promising. "Thanks. Um...you're not gonna do that aura thing anytime soon, are you? I mean, I'd like to keep the property damage to a minimum, you know?" I didn't get much of a response, other than a furrowed eyebrow. "Uh huh. That's what I thought." I don't believe this. Sho, Ryu, and Ken are in my office...three people with virtually nothing in common---hold it. It took me a bit to realize the joke, and only because I used to play a little bit of SF2 myself. I sucked back then, and I *still* suck at it. Once I got the joke, it hit me like my mallet. Arrrrgh...that is BAAAADD! Greeat...wouldn't you know it? Whoever's written these scripts has a sick sense of humor. "I guess he got the joke." Sho commented. His rather musclebound companions nodded. Funny...those guys don't seem very talkative. Then again, with a joke like that, I don't blame 'em. It could be worse, though. It could've been Sho Fukamachi from the Guyver. Fortunately for me, the trio departed without further comment. I sure as hell wouldn't want to get in the way of those two if they get steamed. And no, I'm *not* willing to guess on who's gonna beat who. What the hell's next? Goemon getting a script which demands that he be a Jerry Lewis impersonator? "Detective?" Wonderful. It *is* Goemon. "Something I can do for you?" "What does the word...`freunlaven' mean?" Shakeshakeshake. Gulp. Oh yay. Can this day *possibly* get any more confusing? "Hey, watch where you put your hands, pal!" "Heh heh...how'd *they* get there?" "DARLING!" ZZAAAAAPPPT! "YowowowowowowowowOW!" I *had* to ask. Hm. Three ladies and a letcher. Too bad for Ataru that the other two happen to be none other than Kei and Yuri. Y'know, I think this is becoming just a *little* tedious. What the hell happened, somebody mix up various names and situations on a computer or something? Yeesh. "Hi ladies. Hi Lum. Hiya lecher." I say in my most casual voice. The three ladies muttered greeting sounds, but Ataru was quiet. He was quivering, actually, either from fear or tension or sudden electroconvulsive therapy or whatever makes a person quiver. Hm. This *has* been a long day. I'm beginning to sound like Philip Marlowe. Not exactly bad in itself, but it's not really my style. "Wanna cookie?" I offer some from the tin Kasumi gave me. Better return it pretty soon. "Um...sure." Kei said with some trepidation. Guess this wasn't what she expected. All three ladies present took one each, seeing as how Ataru was still quivering. "What, no milk?" Hoo boy. And I thought it was already a long day. Fifteen minutes, three blaster shots, one electroshock therapy, and six cookies later, I was about ready to call it a day. I could use something dry and utterly boring to counter all this "excitement" today. Wonder if Frank's got the forensic report on those scripts yet? What the hell, might as well check it out. "Hey, Frank...what've you got for me?" "Well, nothing much. This is just your ordinary laser/copier paper. No watermarks of any kind, and fingerprints are limited to the Animates listed inside or yourself." "That's not much to go on." I agreed. "Anything else?" "No--oh! This is a second-generation copy." "Meaning...?" "Meaning that whoever typed this out had it put through a fax, then copied onto regular laser paper." "How can you tell it was a fax?" "Take a close look at the letters. They're not quite as sharp as if you'd typed them out on your word processor. Some fax machines are so bad, you'd think they had little dot-matrix heads on 'em." "Hmm...so you think whoever typed this puppy up had it faxed at one of those copy centers around town?" "Maybe. Or, maybe they have a fax modem hooked up to their computer. Neither of them seem very likely, though." "Well, I can see why whoever typed up the scripts wouldn't just waltz into a copy center and hand 'em a 7 foot pile of paper. Just a *liiittle* suspicious, you know?" "Slightly. And, there's also the fact that it'd cost 'em a small fortune. However, if they took the modem route, then they could be traced by their phone records." "Hmmm..." Phone records, huh? Sounds like a job for a certain redhead I know. "Thanks, Frank." "No problem Andy--Detective." "Nice save." My head was a jumble of theories as I navigated myself home, none of which sounded very concrete. Okay...I know that whoever typed up those scripts has a home computer with a modem and a phone line. Either that, or they were stupid enough to bring the scripts to be faxed to a copy center, which I doubt. Who the hell could be doing this? A writer with a grudge? A hack with something to prove? Or just a nut who has way too much time on their hands? I dunno. In the meantime, the studios are avoiding any scripts which don't have names on them. Somehow, though, I don't think that'll really help, since whoever's doing this could easily forge a name. Criminately, this whole day's shot. I park my car, and head to my apartment. Wait a sec...I sure as hell didn't leave the door unlocked. There're also fresh shoeprints on the carpet (which is still semi-plush), and they're not mine. Looks like some guy with a larger shoe size than mine...and a girl wearing pumps. I'm guessing, of course, but I do know my footprints. "Detective!" Aw, great...my landlord. He's almost a foot shorter than I am, a bit on the pudgy side, with most of his hair having gone the way of the dodo. "Uh...hey. I'm not late with the rent or anything, am I?" "Nah. I was just wondering if you found your keys." "Found 'em? I never lost 'em in the first place." "That's weird. You just called me up about five minutes ago, saying that you lost your keys. I decided to open the door up for you." "Hmm..." Who could've called him up and imitated my voice...? Ryo. Sonova...I should've known! "Well, if you don't need these extras, I'll be in my office. Rent's due on the first of the month." He says as he waddles down to his office. "Right..." I muttered as I crept into my apartment. It's MY apartment, for chrissakes, and I'm sneaking into it! Could this day possibly get worse? Somehow, I wouldn't be too surprised if it did. "Look, Detective...are you sure that this is a good idea?" That was the woman...sounded halfway mature, maybe in her 20's. Can't tell if she's an Animate or not. "Heh. Don't worry about it," Damn, that's a good imitation of me. Wonder what else he's been doing with my voice? "Umm...why are we in the bedroom?" "I think best when I'm in the bedroom." Awright, that's it. I'd better stop him before he drags me deeper down. Time to make myself a pervert pancake. Quietly, I crept into my bedroom, ignoring the chatter that Ryo's been spouting. Judging by the woman's face, she doesn't look too pleased at what he's saying. I didn't know that anybody real could turn that shade of green. In fact, she looks like she's gonna clobber him any second. Sorry, lady. I've got dibs on hurting him. Tap tap tap. "Eh? Andy, hi....umm...you're probably wondering what I'm doing here, right?" Sweat sweat sweat. It was about then that I do something he doesn't expect. I grin. After all...it wouldn't look very good for the department if I start pounding him in public. Away from everybody else, yeah, I'd slam his head in, but not in public. "Nah...you're taking a deposition from this lady, *right*?" "Umm...yeah, right. Deposition, right. Aheh." Sweat sweat sweat. "This is my partner, Ryo Saeba," I tell the young lady. "*I'm* Detective Mays." "I figured that out," she replied slyly. "I've gotta admit, though...that little trick of yours does come in handy when I have to be in two places at once," I tell Ryo, patting him on the shoulder. Let's see...how many gallons of sweat can pour out of the guy? I'd better get him to calm down, soon...he's drenching my carpet! "Uh...right. Andy, are you feeling all right?" I try not to flinch. "Never better." "Well, uh...could you put that thing away?" "Hm? Oh, silly me...old habits die hard, y'know," I babble as I put the mallet away in Who Knows Where. "I thought for a sec that there might have been an *intruder* in here. Anyway, I've just realized that I'm neglecting our guest whose name I didn't quite catch, Miss...?" "Paige. Deanna Paige," "Ah. And you were going to tell my partner something?" "Yes. Well, it's sort of hard to explain...you see, I believe I know who may be responsible for the scripts that have been appearing, lately." "And how do you know about the scripts?" I ask her. "Oh...deduction, observation...and the pages drifting away from wastebaskets in the streets. That wasn't very hard to miss." she replied, a glint of humor evident in her hazel eyes. "Touche. But, let's go someplace a little more formal." "All right," she replied. We walk to what the brochure described as a spacious dining room. Spacious my ass...it's a wonder that I can fit furniture in here. "Anyway, you were saying that you know who may be responsible?" She nodded. "We work in the same office. Eri...that's what everybody calls her...is always coming up with these crazy stories. I guess she got frustrated that nobody liked them, and...Detective, is there something wrong with your partner?" Oh, great. Ryo's hunching over trying to look up her skirt. (If I were more hormonal, I wouldn't blame him. She is kinda pretty. But, that's no excuse for him. There rarely is any excuse for him.) This is not a pretty sight, what with a trail of drool dripping its way down the corner of his mouth and all that. This is also not doing any wonders for our professional appearance. So, I elbow him. Hard. "WHOUF!!" Hey, not too bad of a record. He's bent over twice in one day. "Sorry you had to see that. He has this rare condition where his salivary glands occasionally go into overdrive. It's not very pleasant. Pain seems to be the only thing that stops it." I tell Deanna with as straight a face as I can muster. Joe Friday, who's that? "Umm...right." "You were saying?" "Oh, right. Well, Eri's been acting pretty odd the last couple of days. We both work at a temp agency, Staff-em, Inc., you see. Anyway, she goes on her terminal for hours, and doesn't go home when the rest of us do. She's also been hogging the fax machine for some odd reason. Most of us at the office thought she was going through some kind of weird creative phase. I just thought she was being a jerk, until I saw a few pages of one of her scripts float by me." "Hm. Ryo?" Wheeeze. "Yeah?" "I want you to escort Miss Paige and to keep an eye on her. She's to be considered a witness, all right?" Ryo straightened up, a look of cold professionalism sharpening his eyes. There wasn't even a trace of his usual lecherous behavior, which suited me just fine. I don't think it's gonna last, though. "You've got it." "Now, could you please wait outside? I have to discuss a few things with Miss Paige." He nodded slightly and exited. As soon as he was out of sight, I dug into my pocket and pulled out a can of pepper spray, pressing it into her hand. "What's this for?" "In case my partner has any ideas about catching you in the shower." "Then why'd you send him with me?" "He may be a lecherous SOB, but he's also very good at what he does. Once he sets his mind to it, the likelihood of anyone bothering you is practically nil. I'm not about to take chances, however. If you hear any- thing strange while you're in the shower, fire at will." She nodded, that glint of mischief reappearing in her eyes. I didn't get much sleep that night. I guess I was too keyed up about how screwed up things were. If this Clothos lady was trying to screw over Animates, she was going in a pretty indirect manner. What was she up to? I guessed that I'd find out when I went to Staff-em, Inc. With that, I immediately conked out. Before I went to the temp agency, I decided to make a few calls. I figured that some people might want to be in on this. "Yeah, I think I've found the writer. Yeah, I'm sure. NO, you can't blast them to kingdome come, Kei. Look, just spread the word around, willya? Thanks. "'Lo, Nene? Yeah, it's me. Listen, I was just wondering if you could kinda stop by the Staff-em building? Oh. Well, yeah, I understand. Yeah, I know what it's like. I'll tell you all the juicy details later, okay? "Hi, Kasumi? How's it going? Look, I've found out who's been writing those scripts. Could you sorta suggest to Ranma to be at the Staff-em Inc. building in, say, two hours? Okay, thanks--oh! Almost forgot. I've got your tin right here. Thanks for loaning it to me. I'll seeya later." Time to bust myself a hack. "Andrew Mays, Anime Detective," I tell the secretary, flashing my badge. "I'm looking for a Miss Eriadne Clothos." "Third desk on your left. Be careful, she's *nasty*." she whispered to me. "Don't worry about me." She was a petite woman, with her hair done up in a conservative manner. Wire-rimmed glasses were perched on her forehead, giving me a clear view of her eyes. They say the eyes are the mirrors to the soul. I honestly can't say that I liked what I saw in her mirrors. She seemed to give off this aura of "Don't cross me or heads will roll." She seemed to be the perfect example of a miss "Iron Bitch" stereotype. You either did it her way, or you were eating asphalt. "Eriadne Clothos?" "Yes?" Brr. Did it suddenly get cold in here or what? "I'm Detective Mays, Anime Detective." "Is there something wrong?" "I understand that you've been writing quite a few things." "So? Is it a crime to write?" Why the hell do I feel like I'm under a microscope? "If it was, Arthur C. Clarke, Anne McCaffrey, and a lot of other people would be in jail right now. No, what I'm referring to are a few scripts that have been flooding the studios, and I have reason to believe that you wrote them. If we could discuss this privately--" With that, she turned a glance towards her co-workers and uttered a two words which were laced with so much venom, I thought I'd fallen into a pit of cobras. "Everybody out." I don't think I've seen an entire office clear itself so quickly. Hell, even the guys by the water cooler zoomed out. "Anyway, to answer your question, yes, of course I wrote them." Oh. That was easy. "So, you admit that you deliberately flooded the studios with those things." "Absolutely. There's not a thing you can do about it, either. Frankly, I'm disappointed that you couldn't tell, and that you didn't come visit me earlier." Oh, yeah? "Well, since I can't do much, would you care to tell me how you replaced all the other scripts with your little `masterpieces?' I mean, the directors and other people can *obviously* tell which scripts were written halfway professionally." She smiled, a chilly thing that would probably inspire fear even in the bravest (or hormonal) of guys. "This is a temporary agency. People do as they're told. If their assignment just *happens* to include recycling old scripts and replacing them with mine, well...that's what they do." "Now for the big question: Why?" "Haven't you ever wanted something so bad, you could taste it? Ever since I was a little girl, I've wanted to be a writer. But no, my stories didn't make sense, they said! More characterization, more plot, they said! Ladies and gents, Eriadne Clothos has just gone to Rant Condition One. This is *not* a pretty sight. "But I didn't just want to write some cheap novels, Detective. No...I wanted something that would last throughout the ages! I wanted to be a SCRIPTWRITER for the MOVIES!" Whoo. Megalomania alert! Megalomania alert! Isn't that last bit kinda contradictory? Who the heck remembers who wrote what in the movies? "But why start with the Animates? Why make those scripts so *horrible*? I mean, what'd you do, put random names and ideas in a computer and just mix 'em up? I mean, did you really think you could put a bunch of unrelated mumbo-jumbo together and not have people *notice*?" "Carl Macek got away with it in Robotech," she stated simply. Ouch. She's got a point. "Seriously, I had to start with something. Besides, I never really cared for those doodle-people anyway. If everyone knew my name--" "Which they won't, considering that you didn't even put yours on the scripts." She just stared at me for a sec. "What?" "You forgot to put your name on the scripts." "You mean--?" "Yup. You've just flat-out confessed to everything." Her eyes just went wide, and I heard her say quite a few things not fit for print. "Eriadne Clothos, I charge you with multiple violations of the Tolerable Scriptwriting Act, including inappropriate setting, badly-matched crossovers, poor dialogue, and worst of all, non-existent plot and character development. If I were to press charges, you would most likely be sent to a place where you could develop your writing skills." "Send me where I can still write? Sounds good to me." she said, regaining a bit of her ego and bravado. "I'm not going to do that, however." Clothos's face fell. "What?" "I said that I'm not going to press charges. I want you to meet some people." A quick elevator ride later, and we emerge into the lobby of the building. It's pretty loud, what with all the Animates gathered there, and they don't look too happy. Belldandy looked as close to angry as I've ever seen her, and the Lovely Angels weren't too thrilled either. Ryu was cracking his knuckles, almost in anticipation. More than a few of the others were carrying mallets, rocket launchers, and other assorted blunt objects. I didn't see Nene anywhere, but then again, she's a pretty busy kid. "These are a *few* of the Animates who you `wrote' about." I told her. "Are you going to let them *lynch* me? I thought you stood for better than mere mob justice, Detective." she said scornfully, but with a tinge of fear. "Hardly. I just want you to meet--" Whoa. I don't like that look in Ken's eye. No, not one bit. Before I could stop him (which shouldn't be any surprise. This *is* Kenshiro, after all), he tapped Clothos right in the forehead, just above her eyebrows. "You will DIE in---" he told her in his most evil voice. Funny thing, though. He didn't finish his sentence. He just held his index finger there for a good thirty seconds. It's kinda weird...everybody went quiet for those thirty seconds, not sure of what Ken was going to say or do. I think it was worst for Ms. I-wanna-be-a-writer-and-I-don't-care-WHO-I- trample-on-my-way-up. She was sweating in the most unfeminine manner (think of a tropical rainstorm, and you've got the general idea), and every part of her face was trembling. Then, he just took his finger away. Just like that. No blood, no guts, no bones flying out of their place...nothing. Not that I'm arguing, seeing as how I really don't want to clean up a mess like that. Well, that and the fact that I'm not looking forward to seeing whether or not Ken's techniques work on real people. Eriadne Clothos, Ms. Untalented Hack, stood there for two or three seconds after Ken removed his finger, and decided that what she had just gone through was too much. Naturally, she fainted. WHUMP! Ouch, that's gonna leave a goose egg on her head. "Hey, I thought one of you guys were supposed to catch her." I groused. "Me? I thought you were." somebody piped up from back. "I wasn't gonna catch her. No way." Ranma complained. "Hm." Ryu grunted, crossing his arms and scowling. "Growr," Mughi growled, and shook his head. I don't think I wanna know what *his* crossover involved. "Ken...you really *didn't*...I mean, she's not going to die from that touch, is she?" The only response I got from him was an Evil Smirk (tm). I've seen a lot of weird stuff in my line of work. I've seen tentacles, goddesses, wacko martial artists with no common sense, two ladies who happen to blow up something wherever they go, and a helluva lot more. However, I couldn't help but feel a chill go down my spine as Ken gave me that smirk. For a sec there, I thought that he'd turned into the devil himself. Ken? Being subtle? What the hell's this world coming to? Ooboy. This should make life interesting for Ms. Clothos. "What did you *do* to her?" Paige asked. Behind her, Ryo was sniffing and rubbing his eyes. Guess she needed the pepper spray after all. All she got in response was the same smirk. Brr. Another day, another case. Okay, so she didn't go to jail, but I have this sneaking suspicion that Kenshiro might just casually walk close to her if she should ever get the urge to write again. That's better than anything I could've come up with. All that, and I managed to return that tin to Kasumi. I think she reminds everybody of their mother--or what they'd like their mother to be like. SNIFF! "For chrissakes, Ryo, get a tissue, willya? Your nose is dripping all over your paperwork. That's pretty damn disgusting." "Sorry. I seem to have caught something." he said, wiping his eyes. "A cold?" "Something like that." "Uh huh." I'd had a talk with Ms. Paige after Clothos received her reward for "creativity." Seems my erstwhile partner decided to check up on her while she was showering, and in doing so, got the entire can of pepper spray in his face. Serves the guy right. Now, if only I didn't have any paperwork like yesterday. But no, somebody upstairs just decided to dump about, oh, 2 feet worth of the stuff on my desk. Crimanately. Oh when, oh when will this topsy-turvy, paper-laden existence ever give me a break? Probably not anytime soon. BRIIIINNNNG! "Mays, Anime Detective." "Hi, Andy? How'd it go?" "Oh, hey kid. Not bad. Wanna hear all the details?" "If you have time." "Oh, I think I have plenty of that on my hands," I remarked, glancing at Mount Paperwork. THE END (FOR NOW) ---------------------------WARNING!--AUTHOR BABBLE!---------------------------- Whoa. I haven't exactly been cranking out the fanfics lately, have I? Well, school and IRC tend to take up a lot of my time. School, I can't do anything about, and IRC is where I get some of my weirder ideas (from, believe it or not, people weirder than me). ;-) Well, here I am at the keyboard again. It's November 25, and the only ways that I can currently express myself are through gestures and various whispers of colorful metaphors. Currently, anything resembling normal speech is currently inhibited by a throat unable to produce anything else other than what an amphibian might use. On the other hand, at least the family knows better than to ask me for answers. Hmm...another tangent. We know return to our regularly scheduled rant. Boy...looking back at this, I think that about anything less than 40 or so K is just not my style. Of course, my style usually consists of long, 100K+ stories, some of which are still being written. Y'know, I think I've created something of a monster. *sigh* The product of an overactive imagination, I guess. Well, anyway, I think I should explain a few of the inside-jokes. For one thing, Sherri from the Writer's Guild seems to have more than a passing resemblance to a certain director on Animaniacs and Tiny Toon Adventures. Also, Deanna Paige is sorta a combination of two other ladies who work on Animaniacs, Deanna Oliver (a writer) and Kathryn Paige (who has different ending credits on each show). Let's see, I'm still working on more Anime Detective and Undocumented Features stories (not necessarily in that order). Also, since I'm graduating in a bit, I've already moved my e-mail address and web page to pmui@jurai.net and http://www.jurai.net/~pmui/, respectively. As usual, thanks to the guys on #Eyrie. You guys know who you are. And as always, thanks to you, the reader. You're the one I keep cranking (slowly, but surely) this stuff up for. +----------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Pearson Mui ("Moy") |My personal philosophy- | |Self-proclaimed strange medium guy|Nothing is impossible, merely improbable,| |with a bad haircut. ^_^ |impractical, or unfeasible. | |pmui@jurai.net,pmui1@uic.edu |http://www.jurai.net/~pmui/home.html | |BGC, RANMA 1/2, UF (plug!), WING COMMANDER 3 (take the Excalibur!) ^_^ | +----------------------------------------------------------------------------+