AN: I guess the idea of working on six stories is a little crazy. But most of my ongoing fics are revisions of what was deleted and lost, so it's not like I'm wasting my brain cells. And I really do need something new to work on.
Anyhow… WOOT! Introduction time! And you guessed it – it's a parody to all things American: Comics. Superhero comics, that is. You know it's stereotypical. But really; wouldn't it be SO cool to have superpowers to call your own?
Oh, and sorry if the first bit is a little… bitter. It may leave a funny taste in your mouth.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, created by the Manga Princess/Tycoon, Takahashi Rumiko.
First Film: Measuring Insanity
A dictionary describes Normalcy as… Normality. If you look up Normality, you'll find it defined as 'the state or fact of being normal; normalcy.' And if you look up Normalcy…
Scratch that. I'll explain it.
Normalcy is a habitual existence, where everything is average and your day is full of plain, ordinary events and people. Average; ordinary – some things people don't want to live through. And some things people are happy to live with.
I, to put it simply, was a nincompoop.
Before I stepped out of my daily routines, before I took off my veil of false promises, my hood of naïve misconceptions, I had less chance of enlightenment than…well, a rock lobster. My life was all about tests, dating, and grades.
I was your typical schoolgirl.
Then I met him.
"A little blurry, don't you think?"
I sighed. I didn't even like cameras. Whenever I tried taking pictures my hands start shaking like I was having seizure and I'd lose my balance. It was my clumsiness at work.
"Is this the best picture you have?"
I nodded meekly. Even to this day I remember cowering under his unholy gaze. It was unnerving to say the least.
The man took off his Armani glasses and gently rested the frames on the slick mahogany desktop. He pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes shut, as if concentrating on a serious matter. Or maybe he was picturing me naked.
"Miss Higurashi," he started. "You are aware that there are many, more qualified, candidates vying for this position?"
Yeah right, I thought. "Of course."
"They are more certified for this line of work."
You already said that. "Of course."
"They are much more capable of handling on-the-scene tasks."
Way to be sincere, jerk. "Of course."
"And some of them are even prettier than you."
…stupid zany pervert. "…of course?"
"So, understandably, it saddens me to say that I am going hire you."
He said it in such a serious, monotone voice it took me a few seconds before realizing this was good news. "Oh," I said.
"You have talent," he continued. "Still shaky on the focus… and you need to take better care of your lenses."
"But it'll do," he looked like he was already regretting hiring me. "You're dismissed."
"What?" I blinked, forgetting to be meek and obedient.
"You'll report back half past 7 tomorrow morning. My secretary will assign you a cabinet. And bring your camera… I'm interested to know the type of parts someone like you use."
"Yes sir," I stood up from the uncomfortable seat. "I'll be here bright and early."
He smiled, charmingly too. He shook my hand and held on to it a little longer than necessary. "By the way, my name is Miroku. Miroku Nagano."
Surprise, surprise! A fellow child of the land of the rising sun!
"It was nice to meet you, Mr. Nagano," I said, proudly pronouncing his name correctly.
I think, in a weird sort of way, my fluency turned him on.
"Call me Miroku."
I skedaddled out of there before he could ask for my number (a pointless thing to do because, officially, he had just become my boss).
So, there I was, strutting down the street because I had a JOB. Yes, it was a distasteful occupation and pretty darn underappreciated… but I had a JOB. It was definitely not my choice of career…
I rounded a corner and took the alley behind the discount store. Usually, bad stuff happened in dark alleyways. But it was in the middle of the afternoon. What could possibly happen?
I froze and witnessed an ongoing struggle. A pretty brunette, probably a high school cheerleader, was being assaulted by two huge brutes. They had shabby hats and scruffy coats on; they resembled hobos… but what kind of hobo wielded gold-handled machetes?
So I did the first thing I could think of.
I shot back the way I came and ran for the main road.
"MURDER!" I yelled. "BLOODY MURDER! ASSAULT! RAPE! RAAAAAAPE!" My screams were screechy and unbearably whiney. Too bad it was Sunday – most people were still asleep, at church, or down the street visiting the lively downtown area.
I distinctly remembered seeing a phone booth half a block away before something hard and cold struck me behind the neck. Curses. My purse must've weighed me down… or maybe it was the heels. Next thing I knew, I was on my back and a pair of hands was dragging me back by my ankles.
"Hey," I groaned. "Stop that!"
They chuckled menacingly. What a pleasant response.
"I'm serious! This is a satin trench coat."
"What'll we do with this one?" one of them growled, dropping my ankle.
"Don't know… she's not as young as this one," the other examined the brunette.
"I'm only 20," I mumbled, resentfully so.
Surprisingly, they heard every word of it. One of them keeled down next to me and bored into my face.
"Only 20, huh?" his pupils dilated. "You can still do it like a teen, right?"
It took a moment to sink in. Then I blushed, embarrassed and furious. "That's just gross! Who do you think you are, talking like you're some swinging pimp or a… umm…"
It became hard to find words after I saw his eyes. Mainly because they weren't human.
"Demons," I whispered.
(That explained the stench.)
I don't know what stood out the most. His glimmering hair, his questionable fashion statement, or his tweaking dog ears. Perhaps the sunset behind him set the mood...and it was still morning. Or maybe I was slowly losing consciousness. I can still picture his heroic entrance.
That was probably what started my crazy life. My crazy story. Because of him, my life went from drab to 'GAH!'
But back to the story…
The colors drained out of the attackers' faces.
"You!" one of them hissed. "You're here?"
"Inuyasha!" the other spat his name out like a dirty word. "Just whose side are you on?"
I didn't understand what they meant. Not that it mattered, because my numb body was starting to prickle.
There was a thud. I looked up and saw one of them fall. There was a grunt and a hard crunch, but I didn't know what was happening. Of course, I became more conscious when one of the machetes landed inches away from my nose, piercing the cement ground.
My legs tingled, and I had enough sense in me left to sit up and move when there was a clang. The second machete fell on its hilt and flipped, slicing the air where my feet had been. Two words: Woman's intuition.
I looked behind me and saw this Inuyasha guy kneel in front of the teenager. She blushed and gleefully nodded. I saw her pull up her skirt, ever so slightly.
Hussy, I thought. I knew better than to speak out loud around demons after that incident. But what really bugged me was how the 'hero' had past me. He ignored me as if I was a sac of potato and strolled right over to the teen.
I couldn't believe his arrogance. I was a victim too!
I slowly stood up, uncertainly leaning against the brick wall. My feet were weak, but at least I could walk again. And just like that, I walked away. He didn't even try to help, or even ask if I was well. What a prick!
While I was making my exit, a thought hit me.
Maybe heroes like him went for younger chicks nowadays. That must've been it… that's why he went straight for that schoolgirl.
I sighed, getting onto the main street. I was 20, true. But it was hard to believe I had grown so old in such a short amount of time. I still think about what I was like when I was 15. Young and energetic… unusually popular too.
Five years later, I had changed into a tired woman, working as a…
That reminded me.
I walked down the block and pulled out some coins from my purse. I got into the phone booth I spotted earlier and fed it some change before dialing some numbers. There were a couple of rings before someone answered on the other end.
Good ole' mom, accustomed to answering in Japanese; the language engraved in her mind.
"Mama," I said with a childish grin on my face. "I got a job!"
The secretary was a strict girl with an attitude to boot. Her hair was bound by a pink bow and she wore a green business suit with a light floral pattern on the hem of her skirt.
"Sorry," I answered nervously. "There was an accident on Grover's–"
"Please follow me," she interrupted and promptly walked away. I quickly caught up after a little pause, shocked. She had spunk, I'll tell you that.
"My name is Nazuna," she directed me through the hallway. "You will be working directly under Mr. Nagano. He will be overseeing your projects before the release dates. You are responsible for the care of all the electronics provided in the cubicle. Because you will be managing independently, I am not obligated to respond to your calls. Here's your space."
It was roomy; a spare camera sat next to a VAIO laptop and a coat hanger stood next to the garbage pail. I was missing a chair, though.
"Mr. Nagano will be expecting you shortly," she said and turned around.
"In his office?"
She immediately stopped in her tracks and whirled around, glaring. "He didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
Nazuna sighed and held her forehead. "Please follow me."
It was annoying for the both of us; she didn't like giving tours and I didn't like lugging my 5 ton camera equipments around. We got back to her desk and she sat down while already fiddling with the phone. She held up a finger, gesturing me to wait.
"This is Nazuna," she said. "Yes, Ms. Higurashi is here with me. Yes, I will give her the directions. …no, I will not be free this evening. Yes, she will be there shortly." She quickly slammed the phone down and cleared her throat. "Mr. Nagano is waiting outside. He will be directing you to the scene."
She held up her hand, palm up, and signaled me to get going. Either she was a mother or she was the crankiest young adult I had ever met.
Sure enough, Miroku was waiting outside with a smile on his face, obviously amused. It was a cool day, the wind picking up leaves and lifting skirts on the street.
"Follow me, newbie," he spoke casually. "I'm going to show you what the world is like through the eyes of the paparazzi."
He said it – paparazzi. I felt so dirty right then. Who knew I would be working for someone like him?
"You're perfect," Miroku chattered as the two of us walked down the street. "You have an innocent face and a perky body language. No one would suspect you if you hid your camera better."
I frowned, staying silent. I realized then that this was why I was hired. I looked normal, able to blend into the crowd.
"Apparently," he stopped in his tracks. "The scene brought itself over to us."
Before I could question what he meant, a couple of police cars drove by, sirens blaring. Up above, a helicopter was hovering with a reporter dangling from the door.
The ground slightly shook.
"There he is."
I knew who Miroku meant the moment I heard it. It was a feeling, really.
"Hey!" Inuyasha yelled from the roof of a tall building, directing it at someone on the street below. "You're running away?"
A scaly lizard monster crawled out of the shadows and tried to make a mad dash for the streets. Inuyasha, who had been standing patiently on the edge of the roof, tipped forward and did a summersault in the air, landing inhumanly on his bare feet before he could crash on the ground.
There were people on the streets, of course. He paid no attention to them, and the police couldn't block the road fast enough. Girls and kids screamed, both with different reasons, and stayed rooted to the spot.
Couple of craters later, a news reporter came onto the scene with her microphone ready. Her cameraman was situated a couple feet away, perfectly immobile. I don't know how anybody could do that. The reporter stopped brushing her perfect hair as the cameraman counted down with his fingers.
3, 2, 1.
"We're here live at Grover's Avenue. Early this morning a lizard demon snuck into the confines of the city guardhouse and slaughtered two men. Before police arrived, however, the famous Halfling vigilante appeared on the scene."
She stepped back, forcing me to scramble away.
"As you all know, Inuyasha, who has been missing for months, is the son of a heroin and a villain. This is why he has been dubbed Halfling. Because he has been out of action for nearly 5 months, his reappearance has drawn incredible support and interest."
I knew why Miroku wanted me to see him.
Inuyasha was a hero alright. A superhero.
Miroku chuckled. "So, up for the task?"
I watched with the same childish grin on my face, observing the hero giving the lizard demon a much needed beat down.
"I'm going to enjoy this."
AN: Anyone would feel shocked/aggravated when, one day, they go on their bio and find nearly all their memorable fics DELETED. Without a notification. Until two days later. When it was way too late.
…but I was sort of expecting it. During that time a lot of fics were getting deleted because of the rating upgrades. Even authoresses I oh so respected lost their fics. When incredible writers with amazing stories had to suffer, I knew little people like little ole' me would be taking major hits. And I was right.
Well, I'm over it. But I really do miss all the reviews I received for Get A Life, Half Innocent, Just Dance, etc.… I even miss that one flame I received for Get A Life. OK, maybe I miss it only because I got to make fun of it in the end, but…
So this fic goes out to everyone that ever reviewed one of my stories and had the misfortune of seeing it taken down.
Major kudos to all!