|The Bubba Effect
Author: Neo Draco PM
Following the second American Revolution and caught in the middle of the Second American Civil War, Ami must survive being pushed past the limits of her physical, emotional, and mental endurance.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure - Ami M./Amy/Sailor Mercury - Chapters: 15 - Words: 25,436 - Reviews: 9 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 8 - Updated: 11-27-11 - Published: 10-11-10 - id: 6391012
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: A while back, I wrote the a short called The Bubba Effect This is a reworking of that same short describing an Alternate Universe adventure of Ami and friends in the United States after the fall of the American government and with America in a total state of anarchy. As impossible as such a scenario may be, keep in mind that this is an entirely possible future for this country.
Ami peered carefully around the store front, looking for both something to open a door and anyone who might cause trouble. She knew that this was, technically, breaking and entering, which was illegal. But, given the things she had done in the past few weeks, it was low on her list of charges.
A few weeks previously, Ami and her friends, Makoto, Usagi, Rei and Minako, had traveled to America for a bit of a vacation. Before they could leave, the American people had thrown some kind of revolt. Years of poverty and disillusionment with the government had been too much. In the chaos of anarchy with gang-controlled cities and civil war, she and the girls had become trapped in this new hell. They had become separated, and, without a way to communicate with one another, were now lost.
Ami picked up a stout piece of metal and crept over to the glass doors. She swung with all of her strength and shattered the glass. The store, which had been closed and abandoned some time before, was empty of people, but full of useful merchandise. She wished she had some money to leave behind and, at least, make herself feel better, less like a thief, but all of her money, identification, and possessions had been stolen before she could make it out of Washington D.C. With the weather getting colder and her prospects of rescue bleaker, she needed more than just the clothes on her back.
She moved swiftly through the clothing racks, selecting a nice, tough, heavy jacket. She took a moment to try it on and found it a little short on the arms. She exchanged it for a slightly larger size and slipped it on before moving on. The store had been ransacked, with goods strewn to the four winds both inside of and outside the store. Her eyes constantly roved her surroundings as she pulled off her shorts and tugged on a pair of jeans. She grabbed a leather belt and snugged it around her waist. Belts were good things, she reasoned, you could store important things on a belt.
Glancing down at her tattered and filthy tennis shoes, she decided on a new pair. Actually, boots would probably be better. She grabbed a pair of heavy black boots which looked identical to the kind soldiers wear, tightened up the laces, and bounced a bit in them, these would do quite well. She took a moment, trying to think of anything else she might need. Definitely food, canned goods would keep longer, and a pack. A big one. She raced through the store, trying to find a good backpack. She grabbed a pair of warm, fleece-lined gloves and pulled them on. She would need all the warmth she could get in the coming months.
Grabbing a pack., she opened it and checked the depth. It was deep and able to hold a lot of stuff, It even had straps along the top to hold a sleeping bag, a true camping pack. She began to fill it with every kind of canned and dry good she could see, adding a few bottles of water for good measure. She roamed the store's sporting goods and picked up a small, brown bottle of water purification tablets, which would be useful.
Glancing around, she saw what she mistook for a long knife. At a second glance, it turned out to be a Machete. Ami snickered to herself, they actually sold Machetes in stores in America, ready for the picking. Only a select few stores in Japan offered such a dangerous tool. She ripped open the plastic packaging and discovered that the Machete also came with a tough canvas sheath. What luck!
She clipped the sheath to her belt and slid the blade into it, careful not to cut herself. She searched out a knife, a good one. Her last one had broken recently in a fight. Luckily for her, it had broken in her attacker's chest. She saw some inside a glass case and smashed it with a gloved fist. These weren't knives, they were pictures of knives. She hopped over the counter and began to root through the drawers. Most of the knives she found were the folding pocket kind. She needed a real knife, not a toy. She found a good one. The blade was six inches long and wickedly sharp. Reaching up onto a rack, she snatched up a sharpening stone, she didn't know much about sharpening knives but she was a fast learner.
Turning around, she spotted a second case. This one was filled with rack upon rack of guns. She said a quiet prayer of thanks to the Kami as she reached up and grabbed the last gun on the rack, some kind of shotgun. She read the tag attached to the trigger guard. It was a 12-gauge Remington pump-action. She had no idea what that meant but it must be important. She dug through the boxes of ammunition in the cabinet and found a few labeled with the same gauge as her gun. It was simple common sense that the gun could fire these shells. She didn't know what would happen if she loaded the wrong shells into the gun but she was sure she didn't want to find out.
On her way out of the store, she grabbed a sleeping bag, a few blankets, a metal fork and spoon, of which the bins were full. It was amazing what people forgot in their panic to get what they would need. She grabbed a pack of butane lighters. Fire would be the most important thing for her.
Ami left the store, slinging the new pack onto her shoulders and tightening the straps as she straddled her motorcycle. Technically, it wasn't her motorcycle but she had "borrowed" it from a house nearby. The poor sap who owned it had even left the keys in the ignition. She didn't feel the least bit guilty about taking it though. She needed it more than him.
She hit the kickstart and was gone, roaring through the gears. It was a shame, but everything that she used now was stolen, from the motorcycle to the fuel that drove it, the food that would fill her to the blankets that would keep her warm tonight. And even the tools she used to keep herself alive. But, since the fall of America, the rules had changed.
Though she was unclear on the details of the why and how, she knew that things had gotten bad, especially for anyone who wasn't an American. Throughout her life, Ami was a quiet, studious girl, preferring to let her wit and charm disarm any opponent, and, if that failed, to run like hell in the opposite direction.
Since the fall of America, she had to fight more in the past few weeks than ever before. Each fight had been for her life and she bore the scars and wounds to prove it. The fact that she was still alive bore testament to her already considerable skill.
Taking her hand from the throttle for a moment, she adjusted the shotgun's strap on her shoulder. She angled the bike, turning off of the highway and onto a back road. She needed to get away from civilization if she was to survive. She almost laughed at the irony of that plan, forsaking the warmth and comfort of a building for the questionable safety of a deep forest hideout. However, Venomous serpents and feral animals were nothing to the truly feral animal known as Man. She knew now that civilization and society were merely an illusion. Without the chains of Law and Order to collar him, Man was the most dangerous creature to walk the Earth.