The Renegades - The Beginning
YARK and Forsooth (a typical Draconic greeting)!!! Reading Out in the Cold made me realize that I had a few stories that I could throw into the larger pool of critics that read newsnet. So here's the first part of my first story. The characters portrayed herein are blatantly stolen from previously published stories and anime or are based on people that actually exist, including the author. Any resemblance to any person actually living, dead, undead, Deadhead, deadwood, dead to the world, or not-dead-just-feeling-poorly that the author has not met or does not know is purely, I say, purely coincidental. I would appreciate any replies or criticisms that anyone has to offer (except for those worthless lowlifes that have already read this story on the TAMU VAXnotes and have refused to comment). So without further ado (what is an 'ado', anyway)...
The Renegades - The Beginning
-by-
Aaron Johnson
The day dawned beautifully over the planet. It was the kind of day that you couldn't help but enjoy, if you were a morning person. The inhabitants of the apartment were not, in any way, morning people. The windows of the three bedrooms were blotted by curtains and the beds were masses of sheets wrapped around their slumbering inhabitants. For the most part, the apartment was quiet and peaceful, an isolated womb away from the real world.
That is, until the alarm rang.
The inhabitant of the middle bedroom rose up like a dead man, the sheets obscuring his face. With a practiced motion, he grabbed the clock and threw it across the room, where it impacted with the wall and fell into a laundry hamper. Needless to say, it was rendered silent. With a sigh, the figure on the bed collapsed into slumber once more and the house resumed its appearance of silent tranquility.
That is, until the phone rang.
The occupant of the first bedroom, awakened slightly by his roommate's previous activities, rolled over and answered the phone. Groggily, he shook his head and said into the receiver, "Hello?"
"Mr. Johnson please," came a female voice from down the line.
"Speaking."
"Mr. Johnson, this is Myrna with the Worlds Welfare Works Association. I am confirming your interview with the director at 10 this morning."
"Right. Interview. 3WA. 10 this morning. Thank you," he hung up the phone and collapsed back into bed, only briefly noticing that his clock read 9:00.
A few moments of mental calculation involving the number of inhabitants of the apartment, the number of bathrooms, and the amount of time until the interview passed. The figure then shot up out of his bed, threw on a pair of underwear and dashed from his room, shouting, "UP AND AT 'EM, GUYS!!!"
The effects of his shout were almost immediate. The two other bedroom doors slammed open and the inhabitants glared muzzily at him. "What the fuck do you want?!?" the occupant of the middle room demanded belligerently.
"You guys remember our little visit to the 3WA?" the other man said, as he walked to the kitchenette that was one side of the main room of the apartment, "Well, we just got a call from them. Our interview is at 10am. This morning."
Realization dawned across the faces of his two roommates as he continued, "Stephen, you go take a shower first. You take longer. Dan, you get the guest bathroom upstairs. I'll make some breakfast."
As Stephen and Dan went about getting dressed, the other man looked about the apartment as he poured cereal into three bowls. It was a simple studio, having two floors. Fortunately, the rent was cheap, or relatively cheap for a three bedroom, two bathroom apartment. The upstairs was their guest bedroom, with sofa-bed, and their rehearsal room, where they stored their instruments. The rest of the apartment was adorned with various paraphenalia, including several fantasy and science fiction posters that appeared quite old.
After about ten minutes, Dan came down, toweling his hair off. He took one of the bowls of cereal that the other handed to him and began eating. The other ran upstairs and took his shower. Moving as fast as they could, the three men still weren't ready until 9:45.
They met outside, in the parking lot. A flame red convertible sports hovercar sat in front of the apartment. Adorning the rear bumber was a sticker that read, "I'm crazy, what's your excuse?" The three men all piled into the car, Stephen at shotgun, Dan in back, and the other driving.
"Got the guns?" he said, fastening his seatbelt. Dan showed him three small briefcases stacked on the back seat. "Good. How far is the 3WA building?"
"About 30 minutes," said Stephen.
"No problem," he answered, cracking his knuckles, "We can make it."
"We're gonna die," said Stephen, who looked apprehensive as the other started the car.
"Why do you say that?" he demanded, "Why do you always criticize my driving? We're not gonna die."
Stephen was silent as the car pulled out of the lot and began accelerating to nearly twice the speed limit. As the car swerved into traffic and screeched around the first turn, he turned to the driver and said, "Alex."
The driver looked up, narrowly missing a paperboy. "What?"
"We're gonna die."
* * *
The hovercar spun into the parking lot of the 3WA, caromed off a curb, shot into a parking space, narrowly missing a Caddy with diplomatic plates.
Alex looked at his friends as he turned off the car. "Well," he said confidently, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Can I open my eyes yet?" asked Stephen, who sat in the shotgun seat, eyes tightly shut, teeth clenched and a death grip on the handle above the door.
"Yes!"
"Are we dead?" asked Dan from the foot well of the back seat.
"No!" exclaimed Alex. "Look, if you guys keep clowning around, we're gonna miss our interview. Now come on." He opened his door and advanced across the parking lot, gun case in hand.
Marie, the front receptionist for the 3WA, had a tough job. Not only did she have to process each and every client that came to the 3WA with a problem, but she also had to deal with the lunatics that sought to take revenge on the 3WA's Crime Consultant Agents. It was for this reason that Marie was not only hired for her pleasant voice and polite manner, but also her ability to competently handle the rather large blaster that currently rested in a holster under her desk. Casually, she observed the three men as they entered the front reception area, wondering if they would require the former or the latter treatment.
The first was tall, taller than the other two. Of the three, he was the most unusual. The prominent part of his apparel was a charcoal grey jacket that appeared to be of some wool blend. Around his neck was wound a black and red scarf that peeked from the neck of the jacket. Emblazoned on the jacket were two medium-sized buttons. One read "Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons for you are chewy and taste good dipped and chocolate." The other one was bright fluorescent orange and read "Deadly Ninja Throwing Button." Very unusual. He wore faded blue jeans and a pair of soft leather laceup boots that appeared to be treated against the weather. A black cowboy hat adorned his head and he was removing a pair of Ray-Bans as he entered the room.
The one to his right was not much shorter than he, but definitely had more muscle. His build was stocky, with a bit of a gut around the waist. A sandy brown beard matched his unruly thatch of hair. He wore a very utilitarian pair of jeans and boots. An old leather jacket adorned his torso, open to the stomach, revealing a t-shirt underneath. He was removing a pair of shooting glasses as he entered.
The third was normal, compared to the others. He was short, but trim, an obvious athlete. His wardrobe consisted of a pair of jeans, a shirt and a pair of athletic shoes. Nothing special about him, but Marie was on her guard. The most dangerous ones usually didn't look it. If these were a trio of gun-happy lunatics, the short one was going to go down first.
The tall one, obviously the leader, advanced on her desk as the other two sat down on the sofa left for just such a purpose. He was not exceedingly handsome, but he looked like a friendly sort of guy. Smiling slightly, he leaned on the desk and said, "Excuse me, but my friends and I are here for an interview with the Chief. It's about getting a job."
Marie went into automatic. Outwardly, she was smiling, politely assuring the young man that the interview was still on, and phoning the Chief. Inside, she was panicing. New agents! God, that's all she needed. She could deal with the gun-happy, revenge-motivated lunatics on a regular basis, but agents were different. They were gun-happy, revenge-motivated lunatics that the 3WA allowed!!!
* * *
The Chief of the Worlds Welfare Works Association looked across his desk at his visitors. Ordinarily, the 3WA pulled its agents from the graduating classes of all the universities of the United Galactica. There were rare cases, however, when the applicants came from outposts or were orphaned and did not go through the ordinary channels. These three appeared to be of the latter group. Three weeks ago, they had showed up at his office, made an appointment, and struck a deal. Challenge us, they had said. Throw anything you have at us, if we can't deal with it, we'll leave. Otherwise, you give us a job as Freelance Crime Consultants. And the Chief had done just that. Three days later, a written and oral examination showed the three applicants to be incredibly proficient in science, languages, history, and even the fine arts (that tall one sure plays a mean guitar, the Chief mused). Last week, an extensive psychological interview had showed them to be stable, if not a little old-fashioned on some social concepts. The psychologists had pronounced them balanced and adaptable, just the kind of person that the 3WA looked for. Today was the last section of the test, the physical examination. And the Chief was ready for his three new recruits. He permitted himself a small smile as he scanned the reports of the last two tests that lay upon his desk. He was bringing in two particular agents for a bit of volunteer work and, for possibly the first time since he had hired them, he was glad these two were his. He looked up from his reports at the three men that sat across the room from him, and said, "Well, gentlemen. I must say, your tests of your mental and psychological faculties are exemplary. I have seen very few of this ranking in my years as director of this organization." But," he added, seeing them relax, "there is still the matter of the physical examination."
"Well, sir," said, Alexander, the spokesperson for the trio, "We're ready for whatever you can throw at us."
"I doubt it," the Chief said sharply. Almost on cue, his intercom buzzed. He thumbed the button and said, "Yes?"
"Sir, the agents you asked for have arrived."
"Thank you. Send them in." He looked at the three men once more, and said with a smile, "I have taken the liberty of asking several of our Troubleshooters to assist me in the test." The door of the office opened and two people entered. They were of medium height and build, and were wearing rather unusual uniforms. One was a redhead, whose hair was held back by a headband that matched her uniform. The other had the long, fine black hair of an Asian. Both were undeniably female. Their uniforms were, in semblance, a pair of two-piece bathing suits, with matching boots and gloves. The Chief turned to his recruits, noting with pleasure the looks on their faces. He said, "Gentlemen, these are Agents Kei and Yuri. They go by the nom de guerre of The Lovely Angels. You, however, are more likely to know them as the Dirty Pair. _They_ will be testing you on your physical skills this morning."
The majority of the 3WA building was comprised of administrative offices and agent support departments. There was, however, a section completely devoted to the physical fitness and training of the agents. Firing ranges, gymnasiums, and simulators could be used to refresh agents on techniques and to test them with new equipment. It was in this area that the Chief led his three interviewees. Since the departure of the two young ladies known as Kei and Yuri towards the women's changing rooms, the three men had not said a word. The Chief was feeling smug, if anyone could teach these pompous amateurs a lesson, the Dirty Pair could. And he was looking forward to it. In fact, he was going to get it on tape.
They halted at the entrance to the gymnasium. The three men had already changed into athletic clothing and were tense with anticipation. The Chief sat down in a small observation lounge and motioned the three applicants to sit. A moment later, Yuri joined them as Kei walked into the gym and onto the combat mats.
"The first test will be one of unarmed combat," said the Chief. "Kei is the better of the two girls at hand to hand. She'll spar with you until a judgement can be reached as to whether you are viable in that field for our needs. So, who's first?"
The three men put their heads together and conferred in low voices for a moment. After a short debate, Alexander looked up and said, "Stephen will."
"Very well," said the Chief, "Go ahead, Mr. Williams."
Stephen stood and entered the gym. Kei stood patiently while he took off his shoes and did some warm-up exercises. He then stepped onto the mat and took a ready positon similar to a boxer's stance.
"He won't get very far if he fights like that," Yuri commented to Alex, watching Kei take the first stance for Tiger Style.
"Just watch," he replied quietly.
At the Chief's signal, the combat began. True to her form, Kei quickly took the advantage. She rained a furious set of blows down upon Stephen, peppering his head and chest with punches. After about thirty seconds, she slowed, sensing that something was wrong. Stephen had not moved since advancing into combat. His hands were up, protecting his face, but he did not parry, did not dodge, and did not attack. Kei immediately changed tactics. She dropped to the floor, sweeping his leg. It was like impacting with a tree. She rolled away and stood, looking very confused.
Alex said, as he watched Kei drop into a Kickboxing stance and begin to circle, "Stephen's specialty is his staying power. He can outlast almost any fighter. When the opponent is tiring, then he makes his move."
The fight went on for another minute or so before Kei's fuse lit. Angrily, she advanced and began attacking with full force. Still Stephen did not move. Then, there came a turning point. Almost imperceptibly, Kei's punches were becoming wider and wider, changing from jabs to roundhouses as her concentration waivered. Suddenly, Stephen lashed out, a fast right jab. It wasn't particularly fast, but Kei had just punched Stephen in the gut and couldn't block the incoming blow. It impacted like a jackhammer, knocking her backwards and to the ground. Stephen stepped back, relaxed and said, "Well?"
Kei grunted and looked at the Chief. "He passes," she said.
The Chief's smug grin fell away like a dead leaf. He was beginning to get a very bad feeling about this.
Stephen returned to the lounge and sat for a moment, quietly sipping water, before turning to Alexander and saying, "She's good."
"Told you," his partner replied, "Wait 'till you see Yuri on the firing range."
"Well," said the Chief, "Who's next?"
Alexander stood up and walked towards the door. "That would be me," he said, removing his hat, scarf and jacket and laying them on a chair. He entered the gym and moved towards the mat, starting his stretching exercises as he walked. Unlike Stephen, he did not remove his boots before stepping onto the mat, and the leather soles whisked slightly when they contacted the vinyl surface.
Yuri leaned through the door with a concerned expression on her face. "Kei," she said, "you want me to handle this guy?"
Kei, despite the dizziness she still felt from the jackhammer blow that Stephen had hit her with, shook her head at her partner's question. "It's nothin' I can't handle," she said, "Besides, this guy's thinner than the other one. He'll be a piece of cake."
"Not," said Alex as he finshed a series of runners' splits and slid to his feet. With a loose shake, he entered the first position of Karate and bowed. Kei, a bit taken aback by this unnecessary ceremony, almost didn't return the courtesy. After she bowed, he fell into a fighting stance, legs spread at shoulder-width, one hand cocked into a fist at the side of his chest, the other extended in front of him in a knife hand. Kei, noticing the professional nature of his stance, mimicked and began moving in for an opening.
They circled each other, appraising each other's guard. Tentavely, Kei threw a punch to test Alex's defense. He blocked it easily, as she expected. What she didn't expect was the virtual barrage of attacks that came back at her.
She was assaulted and hit by at least 4 blows, in as many seconds. Alex's speed was phenominal, each punch was a blur. Kei managed to block the first two and then furiously backpedalled. Alex followed her, continuing to attack until she left the mat.
Kei, panting, looked at Alex, who was sweating but hardly out of energy. She turned and looked at the Chief. "He passes," she said through clenched teeth.
The Chief was really starting to regret this afternoon.
Kei was winded, and so the Chief ordered her to take a five minute break. He wanted her to get this last guy. The deal was that either all of the three men passed or none of them got into the 3WA. The Chief was particularly shocked that Kei had been beaten twice. She was one of his best, after all. An excellent hand to hand combatant, she should have made mincemeat of at least that Alexander person. Things had not turned out as he had forseen. But, then again, they never do when the Dirty Pair was involved.
Yuri, on the other hand, was furious. "A little training exercise," the Chief had said. "Training" indeed! These guys were either professionals or real close to it. Either the 3WA was being set up, or she and Kei were. She didn't like this. She glanced over to where the three men were sitting. Alex and Steven had Dan in a huddle, obviously coaching him on Kei's style. She nudged Kei, who sat next to her, drinking a glass of water, and called her attention to the men.
"So?" Kei asked, her voice filled with exhaustion.
"So, that short one's gonna be ready for you," Yuri whispered in exasperation. Honestly, her partner could be so dumb sometimes!
"Yuri, I got news for you. The big guy was ready for me, the one in the hat was ready for me, and there's a fair chance that the little guy's gonna be ready for me."
"Perhaps," said Yuri craftily, as an idea entered her mind, "but I think I can change that." She hurriedly explained the idea to Kei, whose eyes took on the same crafty look after a moment.
From across the lounge, Stephen watched the Dirty Pair. "Alex, they're up to something," he said to his gangly friend.
"So?" Alex responded, "So are we." He turned back to Dan and continued to brief him on Kei's style. Dan remained quiet and attentive, interjecting an occaisional nod or affirmation.
"Well," the Chief announced, "Are we ready to proceed?"
"Sure," said Dan, rising and removing his jacket, shirt, tennis shoes and socks. Confidently, he walked out of the lounge and into the gymnasium, where he began warming up. The exercises were much more extensive than those that either of his partners had done, and it was obvious that he had had some training as a professional athlete or full-time competitor. His body was trim and compact; streamlined like some sort of torpedo. The most curious thing was his apparent lack of body hair.
Yuri moved towards the door, saying, "I'll take this one, Chief." The Chief, who had chewed his thumbnail to the quick and was beginning on the index finger, barely gave assent. But she did get some satisfaction from the expressions of suprise and shock on the faces of the two other men. Dan, however, did not even glance up at this revelation. He merely continued to warm up his muscles and run through katas from various styles.
Yuri shook her self once, and then tied her hair back. No sense in getting her long black locks in her eyes or her combatant's (Editor's Note: Yes, I know that Yuri's hair is blue in the series. But then again so is Superman's, so just live with it.). She faced Dan from across the mat, and, this time, it was the member of the Dirty Pair that initiated the ritual bow.
Dan returned her bow, then he dropped into the first position of judo. Yuri mimiced him, with the exception that she had reversed the stance. Absentmindedly, she observed that Dan's position was perfect.
They circled for a moment, then she advanced, leading with a snap kick. This was primarily to test her opponent, and Dan easily avoided the blow. The reverse punch that followed, however, took him in the collarbone. Yuri got a feeling of satisfaction as the small man grunted and rolled away from the blow.
Her satisfaction turned to a brief moment of panic when Dan turned his movement into a reverse spinning kick. She barely got her forearm up to block before it impacted. The shock of the blow caused her to take an involuntary step sideways, and she used this force to separate her from her opponent. Dan did not follow up the kick with another blow, much to her relief.
They began circling again. This time, it was Dan who led with a lunge punch, hoping to catch her off guard with his speed. But he was slower than Alex, and she allowed the punch to pass, then twisted to throw him to the mat. Unfortunately, he was small and the lack of hair on his arms made it difficult for her to keep a grip on him. He slipped out of the throw easily.
Yuri decided to take a chance. She rained a flurry of blows down on Dan, rivaling Alex for the pure speed of the attack. Dan did not react, but simply deflected the blows as they came at him. Yuri noticed that he was now smiling a small half-smile, as if he knew some intimate secret of hers. Confused, she backed away.
Dan sprang to follow her, throwing a series of punches. They weren't particularly fast, and Yuri waited for another chance to throw him. She didn't have to wait long. A punch was thrown a fraction wider than the rest, slightly off center. As her reflexes took over and sent Dan tumbling to the mat, a small detached portion of her brain noted that none of his other combat moves had been inaccurate. As a matter of fact, they had been picture perfect, like they wereout of an instructional handbook.
Dan hit the mat, slapping it with his hands to absorb the impact. Almost immediately after landing, his body twisted, bringing one leg up and into the back of Yuri's knee, which was completely unguarded. Yuri felt herself fall to the mat, then, before she could recover, Dan had her in an armlock. "Do you yield?" he asked her quietly.
She struggled for a moment before answering. "Yes, goddammit."
He released her arm and stood. Yuri struggled to her feet, ignoring his outstretched hand. She angrily glanced over at the Chief. The Chief looked like he was gonna need his Xtra Strength Maalox after all. "He passes," she said.
The Chief was wondering if today was going to be as wonderful as he thought it had been. Oh well, at least there was still the firing range...
* * *
The firing ranges of the 3WA used the finest hardware and software that could be found to hone its agents into combat effective fighting machines. Various computer programs could be used to judge the effectiveness of a shot and cross-index it with the company's records as classified by gun type, range, and shootist. What resulted was a non-biased scale that allowed the Chief and the agents to know exactly how well various employees were shooting and these reports could be used as guidelines for training and evaluation.
Of all of the current agents, the best marksperson was Yuri. Not only was she accurate, she held the company record for the fast draw from both a shoulder holster and a hip mount. She also held the range record for accuracy with an automatic weapon. She was, by far, the best.
It was Yuri's score's that would be used against the three applicants. They would have to come within an reasonable margin in order to even be considered suitable marksmen. Even agents with incredible hand to hand skills had to have some ability as shootists, the company policy reasoned. Therefore, any agent, no matter what his specialty was, had to spend time on the range.
The three men did their shooting with little comment. As they shot, the Chief noticed that their guns were as unique as each of them were. Alex fired a slim, lightweight pistol that was obviously derived from some sort of competitive target weapon. He wore it slung low on his hip, much like a gunfighter, and had an impressive fast draw. Not as impressive as Yuri's though. No, the only person that had been able to beat Yuri's fast draw in company history was considered a failed experiment by the R&D department and the files on her were for most purposes closed.
Stephen's gun was a huge, blocky affair, equating to the 20th century 44 magnum revolver. He evidently preferred shot area to accuracy. While Alex fired off a barrage of shots that grouped nicely over the various points of the body with equal frequency, Steven fired one or two shots per location. The power of the gun was such that the computer equated the damage with a cripple or kill result almost immediately. Despite the gun's size, Stephen had quite a bit of control over it. He fired slowly though; his fast draw time barely cleared the minimum.
Dan fired quietly and efficiently, his hands holding the gun steadily. It was a standard issue blaster, one you might see in the hands of a policeman or a military trooper. His shot placement and grouping were good, but not incredible. He seemed to have found a happy medium and stayed with it. Still, the Chief was impressed. Perhaps these guys were 3WA material, after all.
When they had finished tallying their scores, the Chief watched them clean their weapons and store them in the cases before asking, "Are there any special skills that you feel you should tell me before I render a decision?"
The three men looked at each other. A moment of whispered conversation, and then Alex spoke up. "There is just one more thing," he said.
"And that is?"
"Well," he said, "perhaps I should show you." He walked over to Yuri. "The card, please."
Yuri looked confused. "Card?" she asked, "What card?"
"I've seen enough news footage of the Dirty - excuse me, the Lovely Angels to know that you carry a special 3WA weapon shaped like a card. Might I borrow it for a moment?"
Yuri knew which card he was referring to. It was a special weapon, suitable to dealing with large groups of hostiles but not as messy as a grenade. It was also fairly quiet. It was a ceramic alloy weapon with a monomolecular edge. Propelled by an ion drive and controlled from her belt, it could stay aloft for hours. Most useful when dealing with all sorts of targets. With a puzzled glance at the Chief, who shrugged, she handed it over to Alex.
With a word of thanks to Yuri, Alex took the card and walked to the range. As he stepped out into it, the computer sounded a "Cease Fire" warning and the various agents stopped their practice. Alex walked down the range to a catapult, used for hurling skeet targets into the air. He quietly adjusted the arc of fire so that it would hurl its payload in a flat path pointed perpindicular to the firing path of the shootists. After emptying the catapult of clay pigeons, he gently placed the card into the firing chamber and primed the catapult. He then turned and walked about 70 feet down the range, before stopping and facing the catapult.
"Computer?"
"Affirmative. Awaiting instructions." The voice echoed through the range.
"Generate a standard random time generation for the launch time of the skeet catapult. Begin countdown on my mark."
"Affirmative. Warning: Presence of lifeform on firing range prohibits firing of skeet catapult."
Alex looked at the Chief. The Chief spoke up. "Computer, override on my voiceprint. I will take responsibility."
"Affirmative."
Alex said, "Thank you, sir." and then fell into a standard stance. His breathing deepened and he fell into a very perceptible trance. A few moments later, he said, "Mark."
The tension was incredibly thick. Somewhere within the bowels of the 3WA building, a program counted down a random number of seconds that was less than 5 minutes. The Chief had absolutely no idea what Alex planned to do, but he was enthralled by the proceedings. Alex's partners were at ease, obviously they knew what would happen.
Approxiamately 47 seconds later, the catapult discharged. The card flew free and its engine engaged, filling the range with a high pitched whine. It flew down the range at incredible speed, promising sudden and painful death for the young man at the other end of its path.
Alex tensed as the catapult discharged. As the card sped towards him, he began to run towards it. As their paths converged Alex did something that the Chief would remember until his dying day. He jumped into the air, twisting over as he did and passed _over_ the whirling card. Gently, his hand reached down and lightly tapped the card. He then flipped over and landed on his feet, sweating and out of breath. The whining ceased.
Alex walked off of the range and over to Yuri. Silently, he handed the card back to her and sat down. She stared at him silently with her mouth open, oblivious to the card in her hand. The Chief swallowed, and croaked, "H-how did you do that?"
Alex looked at him with exhausted eyes. "Mind over body, yoga, that kind of thing," he said, "Looks neat, impresses people and occaisionally does something useful. But it's tiring and takes way too much time. We ready for our evaluation yet?"
* * *
A short while later, all of the applicants had showered and dressed, and returned to the Chief's office. The Chief had spent the time examining the computer cross-indexing on the shooting scores as well as computer analyses of the sparring matches. The computer had come up with some interesting points, some interesting points indeed.
The Chief looked up as the three men walked in. Kei and Yuri sat next to the window and were giving the Chief looks that said that they had been rudely interrupted in the midst of their vacation and there had better be a good reason why these guys kicked our butts, goddammit. The Chief ignored them, not an easy thing to do.
"Sit down gentlemen," he said as they entered the room. "The computers have given me some interesting results as to your ability scores. I have examined them thoroughly and have come to one conclusion."
"Which is?" asked Alex.
"That you were prepared for this test of your physical skills and were able to surpass what you would be able to do in standard situations."
Kei and Yuri looked at Alex, who sat silently with a smile on his face. "Is this true?" asked Kei, by far the one who had endured more physical punishment of the two.
"Yup," said Alex.
"But how?"
"Oh please," said Alex, rolling his eyes, "We show up, out of nowhere, and challenge the 3WA to keep us from joining. After our scores on the mental and psychological tests, it was not too difficult to decide that the Chief here would send his best agents after us. We expected it, and with the help of some old news files and police films, it was more or less easy to plan around you."
"The best agents?" the Chief gasped. The Dirty Pair were mostly known for the inordinate amounts of destruction that they "accidentally" cause on mission. "Best" was not the most descriptive word the Chief could think of, unless it was used preceeding the words "mass" and "murderers".
"In my opinion, yes," answered Alex. The girls glowed under the praise, usually civilians cowered in terror or ran screaming at the mention of their much-hated nickname. Alex continued, "But sir, don't misunderstand me. We can do the job, prepared or not. And your computers should tell you that."
"They do," said the Chief, "which is why I'm welcoming you to the Worlds Welfare Works Association. Congratulations." He shook the hands of each man.
"Now," he said, "there are a few more questions. Like what will your code name be and what are your plans for advancement?"
"Well, the first is easy," said Alex, "We'd prefer to be called the Renegades. It's what we'd call ourselves anyway. And our goals? Even easier. We plan to become the best Troubleshooters you have. Present company excepted, of course." He looked at the girls who were beginning to notice that these guys weren't so bad looking, once you really looked at them carefully.
"Of course," the Chief weakly answered. He suddenly got the feeling that he'd just made the _second_ biggest mistake of his entire life.
The biggest was, of course, hiring the Dirty Pair.
-<The Bright Street Beachhouse Back in Business Blues>-
-<Copyright 1990 by Cats Laughing>-
Vinnie's was a bar and grill in one of the less-known parts of the club district in the city. It was not advertised much, and made quite enough money from its regulars to cover its overhead. This was due to several factors. Primarily, it was because the owner was a rather successful investor and the bar was supported in part by his business dividends. He also brewed his own beers, which meant he did not have to pay as much in liquor taxes. The fact that the planetary government did not know of Vinnie's home brew and therefore, did not tax it, was an occurrence that Vinnie strove to maintain.
The third reason that Vinnie's did so well was because of its decor. It was exclusively, a twentieth century motif. The walls were decorated with posters and pictures of musical groups and political figures that dated from the 1960s to the 2010s. Much of the music was rock and heavy metal, with some alternative groups and jazz thrown in for spice. Two types of music that Vinnie would not play or let be played were rap and what had been called "technopop". Nobody seemed to argue. After all, it was his place.
The place was beginning to pick up its dinner crowd when a bright red convertible hover car pulled up outside and parked. Alex, Stephen, and Dan got out and unloaded several instrument cases that were stuck in the back of the car. As the three of them entered the bar, Alex called out, "Hi mom, I'm home!"
Vinnie, a short, portly fellow, looked up and smiled. "Got the job, huh? What's it pay?"
Stephen stepped up to the bar as the other two began moving instruments to the stage. "Not bad," he said, dryly.
"That good!" Vinnie exclaimed. He then said, "You boys want the usual?"
"Seeing as we leave planet on our first mission next week," Stephen said, "I suppose we'll have something special." He looked over at Alex and Dan, who were setting up a drum set. "Gyros?" he asked.
"Gyros!!" they chorused in unison.
"Gyros it is," said Vinnie. He stepped away from the bar and entered the kitchen. As the door to the kitchen swung closed, he could be heard shouting, "Goddammit Cajun! Get that cayenne shit away from my cheese fries!!!"
Stephen went over and helped the other two set up. The instruments were fairly complicated for a three man band. The drum set included several sets of drum pads, a set of chimes, and a sampler. Both guitars were double necked, one was a double bass, and the other was a keyboard/lead guitar combo. In addition to the personal instruments that the band owned, Vinnie had several standard instruments set up for amateur night. Alex place one of the floor keyboards on the left side of the stage, and turned to Dan. "Call 'em," he said.
"Why me?"
"'Cause you lost the toss," said Stephen from where he was tuning his bass. "Now go call 'em."
Dan stood and walked to the bar. He grabbed the phone from the underside of the bar, dialed a number and waited. After about two minutes of conversation, he hung up, replaced the phone and returned to the stage.
"Well," said Stephen.
"Well what? I made the call, they weren't home, the cat didn't answer, so I left a message."
"What did you say?"
"What do you mean what did I say? I said that they were invited to a small musical concert at Vinnie's Bar and Grill on Severance and 5th."
"Well, you could have said, 'Hey babes, dere's dis shindig at Vinnie's and we would be delighted if youse could come. Ciao belas.' Or something like that."
The dinner crowd never understood why the Renegades, one of the house bands, would occaisionally collapse into laughter, but they dealt with it with unusual tolerance.
* * *
The dinner crowd had almost filled Vinnie's with its regulars when the band finished setting up. Stephen was tuning up his guitar while Alex checked the techs about lighting and video backup. Behind the stage was a large tri-dee screen, and the Renegades usually used it to supplement their playing. They supplied their own videos and much of their stock was vintage twentieth century, retouched to preserve the images. They offered no explanation, and none were asked for.
Vinnie caught Alex's attention as he moved towards the stage and formulated an unspoken question. At Alex's confirmation, he hit the master light controls which dimmed the house lights and darkened the stage. He picked up the mike that was linked to a PA system and said, "Ladies, gentlemen, boys, girls, and all you unidentifiable ETs out there, please welcome back, for their last show in quite a while, the Renegades!!!"
The tsk of a drum could be heard as the lights came up, and it was followed by the sound of a synthesized fiddle. The song began. It was a light and merry tune, folklorish, but jazzy. One of Alex's favorites, he usually played it when he wanted to thank the staff of the bar. As he strummed the melody on his guitar and used the keyboards repeat sampler to supplement Stephen's harmony, he leaned forward to the mike and started singing.
"Pretty Tommy Belmont was shootin' up in back,
Fixin' up his hair, and going through his pack.
He said, 'All I want is for you cut me a little slack.'
He never even heard what I was sayin'"Stephen took over, his baritone rumble making a nice counterpoint to Alex's tenor.
"Angela the dancer said she never heard the shot.
Maybe she was lyin', and maybe she was not.
She keeps 'em comin' in, and that keeps the party hot.
She says there isn't any point in prayin'"At the chorus, both men's voices mixed, forming a unique third sound.
"There must be another way to travel.
There must be another card to choose.
I'll tell the story straight,
And hope it's not too late
For the Bright Street Beachhouse Back in Business Blues, Back in Business Blues!"
As the crowd warmed to the mood of the song, the Renegades continued their performance. They finished the first song and moved straight into something that was as hard as the former was light. A fast strut of a backbeat was pounded out by Dan, as Stephen set the harmony in reverberating bass. Alex barely touched his instrument until the chorus, and then he fired out a dangerous sounding set of riffs as he sang the words, "Rock of Ages, Rock of Ages..." Joey Elliot could have done better, but he had been dead for several centuries.
The band played on, switching from metal to rock to jazz to the occaisional instrumental piece for the better part of an hour. Then, as their first set began to close, with no more than two songs left, Dan noticed a particular pair of figures entering the bar.
When they had received the message from Dan, Kei and Yuri had been in the middle of a knock-down, no-holds barred, screaming fight that even Mughi had been hiding from. As a result, none of them had been able to answer the phone. The building computer, however, had opted for its usual plan of action involving the Pair, and had cranked the volume on the phone up to maximum (Due to a slight misunderstanding between the building's AI and the building's inhabitants, Kei and Yuri had been forced to crash the original Lovely Angel into the side of their apartment building. As a result, the AI was reprogrammed but its memory circuits still held a grudge). The resulting cacophony drowned out their argument, and by the time Dan's message had finished they had forgotten what they were arguing about (Actually, it was about the leftover chocolate mousse, but that's not important). So, with the lack of anything better to do, they decided to go to Vinnie's, a place they had heard of, but never been to.
The Pair had decided not to wear their uniforms to the bar, thereby avoiding the majority of the drooling fanboys. Nevertheless, they got quite a few appreciative glances and a couple of compliments, including one from Lazarus, the cooler, who never complimented anyone. As the Pair entered the bar, the Renegades had just finished a song and the reverberations of Stephan's bass still hung in the air. Alex leaned into the mike and said, "That last one was entitled "The Show Must Go On" and is dedicated to the very late, very great Freddie Mercury of Queen." Alex turned to confer on the next song with Stephan, when Dan pointed out that Kei and Yuri were taking seats at the bar. A moments conference and Alex turned back to the mike. "This next song needs no introduction, it's one that most people know."
With a four-count, the band began. It started with a bass riff, five notes played in sequence. Then the drums began a backbeat. The pace quickened, and Alex brought in his guitar, diversifying the melody and let loose with the first words of the song, looking directly at the Pair as he did.
"Pretty woman, walking down the street. Pretty woman, that I'd like to meet..."
Vinnie, who had just handed Yuri a Tom Collins, looked up and noticed that Alex and Stephan were staring at the pair, essentially serenading them. Quickly, he slid down the bar and flipped a switch. A spotlight lit up, illuminating Kei and Yuri, and some of the house lights dimmed further. The effect was as if the Pair and the Renegades were the only ones in the room. Kei looked around confused as Yuri shielded her eyes from the glare and then, as both of them realized the extent of the situation, they simultaneously blushed.
As the song ended, Alex spoke once more, the microphone barely audible over the applause. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. We're the Renegades, and that is our last song. But we'll be back on in two hours, at ten, so don't worry, we're not gone yet."
Vinnie dimmed the stage lights and brought the house lights up as the band put their instruments down and stepped off the stage. They walked over to the bar, sweaty and a little strung-out, but smiling. Vinnie tossed each one a towel and they dried off as they sat down next to the bar. Alex looked over at Kei and grinned. Kei favored him with a furious glare. "What's with the spotlight?" she demanded.
"Not my idea," he said, although the grin suggested that he had expected it. He looked at Stephan, "Your idea Steve?"
"Nope. Not my idea. Your idea, Dan?"
"Nope. Not my idea. Your idea, Alex?"
"Nope. Not my idea. Your idea, Steve?"
"Nope. Not my--"
"We get the idea," Yuri interrupted. "So why'd you call us?"
"Well," said Alex, as Vinnie set three plates with gyros on them in front of the Renegades, "I could say that it was because two out of the three of us want to get into your pants something fierce."
Kei and Yuri sighed. "Great," Kei muttered, "more fanboys."
"Watch your mouth," Stephan retorted, his mouth full of Greek sandwich.
"I said that I _could_ say that," Alex continued, "But that would not be the chief reason. It would be a reason, but not the chief reason. The chief reason is very simple. We thought it would be a good idea to get friendly with as much of the staff of the 3WA as possible. Seeing as how we may work together on a case in the future, we might as well get to know each other. So, we gave you a call and invited you to see where we relax."
"You call this relaxing?" asked Kei, noting that all three of the men were flushed and looked as if they had been running a marathon.
"Oh sure," said Dan, "It's a great rush. Really works out the kinks and stress from a long day."
"And with the tension of this morning, a little relaxation is almost mandatory," said Stephan.
"Yeah, that's something that was bothering me," said Yuri. "You said that you'd studied us using news reports and police tapes. But those are classified information, restricted to 3WA personnel. How did you get hold of them?"
Alex smiled and leaned over to Yuri. He reached up to her ear, and produced a large flower made of tissue paper, seemingly from nowhere. "A good magician never reveals his secrets," he said, handing her the flower. "Ask me again in a few months, and maybe I'll tell you."
"So," said Stephan, attempting to change the subject, "Are you girls free this evening? After the show, I mean. We could catch a late movie, or something..."
"Sound nice, guys," said Kei, smiling, "But we don't date on days that end in Y"
"Oh, all right then," said Stephan. He turned back to his sandwich, and resumed eating. Realization hit him about 30 seconds later. "Hey..."
The regular patrons ignored the laughter that erupted from the Pair and the Renegades, taking it as par for the course when dealing with the three unusual men.
The End
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Draco Draconus Ebonius | "Good Night, and may the Good Lord take
aka Ebony the Black Dragon | a Viking to you."--Tales from the Floating
aka Aaron F. Johnson | Vagabond
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"I'm a Black Dragon trapped in a White Man's Body!!! YARK!!!"
Nobody WANTS my opinions!!!
