Chapter I The Arrival
Location: Alley Way, Downtown Tokyo, Jubaan District, 2008
The Tokyo of the 21st century was a far cry from the vast wasteland that existed in the distant future. Its vast skyline was dominated by enormous skyscrapers, and bustled with the sounds of life.
Human civilians went about their daily buisness; children went to school, while their parents went to work at one of the major corporations that called Tokyo home.
The alley way was essentially nothing more then a backwater, tucked away between two rundown buildings, the only signs of life was an occasional alley cat rummaging through the abandoned garbage cans that lined the alley's walls.
The streaks of blue lightning seemed to come from no where, forming a large sphere in the center of alley. A few seconds later the sphere vanished, leaving behind a human form kneeling, faced away, in the previously empty alley and a upside-down dome of removed pavement in its wake.
The sound of stray electrical crackling subsides. The figure was not moving, for a few moments it looked as though the figure wasn't even breathing, but this was soon proven wrong, as the figure began to slowly move.
Silently the figure rose, revealing a woman, with sharply angled features and dead cold eyes which are intense, brown and depthless.
The woman looked around, standing on strong legs and possessing a finely contoured athletic body. The dimness of the night revealed very little about the woman, aside from a mane of dark colored hair, and eyes that seemed to look at everything and nothing at the same time. She examined her surroundings.
"Tokyo," the woman mumbled to herself, sounding more like a machine then a human, "Pre-Judgment Day, estimated year 2008." She glanced down, taking calm inventory of herself, with the exception of a fine white ash that covered her skin and a few singe marks on her skin and hair, there was little damage.
She brushed the dust away unconcernedly as she moved silently and slipped away into the night. The only witness to the mysterious woman's departure was passing cat, which hissed at her approach and quickly disappeared into the garbage can.
The woman moved with the same fluidity and grace as a man, but perhaps owing to her lesser bulk, the movement seemed smoother and more cat like as she made her way through the darkness of the city streets. The night clouds were illuminated through the occasional flashes of lighting from a passing thunderstorm.
The woman soon came to a deserted play ground, where she happened upon a group of teenage boys who were lounging on one of the jungle gyms, laughing and talking amongst themselves and surreptitiously drinking from a brown paper bag, which they passed back and forth between them. They were dressed in nondescript punk regalia...torn T-shirts, fatigue pants, combat boots or high-top sneakers, leather jackets.
They didn't notice the approach of the woman until she was virtually standing in their midst. There was silence for a few seconds, during which time the woman seemed to be carefully appraising the group, but still her face remained dead and impassive, for all her good looks and well made body, she had no discernible personality at all. The boys quickly stood up, dropping the brown bag to the ground.
The first of the boys to speak was the group's leader, he was the eldest and the largest of the group, his rough face, was in clear need of a shave.
"Cold night babe," The leader asked, his voice was slightly slurred from alcohol, yet it was confident as only the voice of inexperienced youth could be. "Nice night for a walk, eh?" The woman remained silent, as she turned her head towards the leader.
"Nice night for a walk." the woman repeated, her voice was void of emotion and slightly accented.
The group though, couldn't help but laugh; they surround her, all swagger and malicious good humor.
"Washday tomorrow, huh," another member of the group replied, "Nothing clean, right?"
The woman's eyes were without expression as she repeated the man's statement, "Nothing clean. Right."
"This lady's a couple bricks short," the gang leader replied. The woman remained silent, as her alphanumeric readouts calculated the gang's body outlines as her onboard computer estimated and analyzed which one of the boys clothing was a suitable fit for her. Eventually she found a match.
"Your clothes," she stated coldly, to a large gang member, who was standing next to the leader, "Give them to me, now." The tone of her voice was clear; it wasn't a request, but an order.
For a moment, the gang member thought to obey, the look to the woman's eyes was cold enough to make his blood run cold, it was only when his companions reminded him that they had the woman outnumbered, that he reached for the switchblade knife he kept in his pocket.
The woman remained motionless as she tracked his movements. Suddenly the woman's arm shot out like a snake striking at its prey, and grabbed the boys arm in a hard unmerciful grip.
The gang member struggled to break the woman's grip but the woman continued to squeeze harder and harder, until the sickening sound of bones snapping began echoing through the darkness.
"Get her!!" the gang member shouted, but before any of the other gang members could react, the woman snapped the young man's arm completely in half. Instantly other knives came out and the closest gang member plunged his knife into the woman's side.
What happened next would stay with the young man for the rest of his life, he watched as his knife blade snapped off the moment it came into contact with the woman's skin. The woman simply gazed at him, with a cold glare, before striking him hard enough to send him flying; the gang member didn't stop flying, until he had collided with the wall of one of the buildings, with enough force to snap his spine.
The other gang members became frozen with fear, before the woman had a chance to react they began to back away, before running into the night, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the walking nightmare as they could.
The woman could have cared less about the other gang members, as she watched them vanish into the night. She turned her attention to the boy she was still holding by the broken arm, by now the youth had passed out from pain. She quickly placed him on the ground where she quickly removed his clothes.
The woman remained silent as she pulled on the oversized clothes, ignoring the smells of sweat and beer that seemed to permeate them. As an after thought, the woman looked down at her victim. She hesitated for only a second, before crushing the boy's skull beneath her boot. The woman did not do it out of hatred; she did it to avoid possible complications and witnesses.
A light rain began to fall, as the woman emerged onto the street, she paused in the pool of light under a near by streetlight to hike the collar of the punk's jacket. The rain streamed down over her face, running into and over her eyes, for some reason they didn't even blink.
She moved without malice and without emotion as she stalked through the night intent on getting to her destination, ignoring any passers by she encountered.
Her first objective was finding a gun dealer willing to do business at night. Finding one did not prove to be much of a challenge, the black market pawn shops were more comfortable operating at night then they were during the day.
Location: Ikari's Pawnshop
The woman walked past the pawnshop's display window. Much of the merchandise in the window was standard Pawn Shop material, old samurai swords, ninja throwing stars, and a few DVDs. The woman stopped in front of the window, as a message appeared through her optic sensors: Armaments required for facilitating primary objective: termination of Sailor Pluto and secondary Objective: Capture of the Staff of Time
The woman made her way into the Pawn shop.
The interior was essentially a collection of aisles with signs declaring, among other things, DVDs and MANGA in red block letters, hanging from the ceiling. At the front of the store was a glass countertop containing among other things old Famicom cartridges.
The woman passed the appliance section, causing the pictures on a row of old TV sets to become distorted and break-up sequentially as she walked by, the TV Sets only returned to normal after the woman had walked passed. She turned her head, her scanners searching for any trace of weapons, a few seconds later her sensors picked up the signatures of various weapons, in a small room beneath the store.
She walked up to the man who was sitting behind the counter. He was short, fat; his eyes were shielded by a pair of glasses. His graying hair was starting to fall out. The man barely noticed the woman approached, much of his attention was focused on the magazine he was reading.
"I require weapons," The Terminator asked, getting the man's attention.
"I'm sorry," the man replied, "but we don't sell weapons here." The woman remained where she was, the look to her face became even colder.
"Sensors indicate a large cache of weapons beneath this store." The woman replied. Once again the man tried to deny the presences of the weapons stash. It was only when the woman put her fist through the wooden counter that the man finally relented.
"Okay, what do you want?" the man asked,
"Weapons," The female cyborg replied, coldly.
"I know that," The man said, "I mean what kind of weapons you want?"
"I require weapons that can easily kill a human from long and short range," the cyborg stated. The man let out a sigh; he couldn't believe what this woman was telling him, it was like she didn't know the difference between a gun and a knife.
"You want guns or knives," the man asked, "cause we got a lot of both."
"The projectile weapons will be the most efficient," the woman replied. The man simply nodded, as he motioned for her to follow him. He led her down a set of cement stairs into the basement. Eventually they came to a small room, which was blocked by a large door with the words: ARMS AND AMMO written on it in large red letters.
"If anyone asks," the man said, as he unlocked the door, "You didn't get these weapons here."
"I didn't get any weapons here," The woman coldly repeated. The man once again sighed, as he opened the door.
In the room there could be seen an AR-180 assault rifle with scope, mounted on the wall beside a number of other guns including a Colt K-MODEL .45 ACP, a Smith & Wesson .38 FOUR-INCH, and a Beretta .225 ACP. The woman made her way through the room pointing out the weapons she felt would most precisely accomplish her mission.
"The Franchi SPAS-12," the woman said. A concerned look went across the man's face as he took the shotgun from its wall rack. He handed it to the woman.
"That's Italian Army," the man said, "You can go pump or auto fairly easy, anything else?" The woman continued to scan expressionlessly for additional weapons, a few seconds later she found another weapon.
"The Jati-Matic Nine millimeter," the woman replied, "with laser sighting."
"That's brand new," the man said, as he removed the weapon, "we just got them in. Finnish Defense Forces surplus, can't imagine why they were never put into service, it's a good gun. Just touch the trigger, the beam comes on and you put the red dot where you want the bullet to go. You can't miss. Anything else?"
"A phased plasma pulse-laser in the forty watt range," the woman continued. The man looked at her with a confused look, he had never before heard of such a weapon out side of some of the comic books he sold.
"Hey," the man replied, "just what you see lady. This is a pawn shop not the Starship Enterprise." The woman remained silent, as she continued to scan the walls a few seconds later she pointed to a large silver handgun.
"The Mark XIX .50 Action Express Desert Eagle," the woman said, "with laser sighting and custom ivory grip."
"You know your weapons, babe," the man said, as he set out the pistol. The woman remained silent as she examined each in turn, working the actions with curt, precise movements.
"All of them are army surplus, each one ideal for home defense," the man said, "So which will it be?"
"All." the woman replied, coldly. The clerk smiled silently as he began fumbling in a drawer for the registration papers.
"There'll be a fifteen day wait on the handguns," the clerk said, "But you can take the rifles today if you want to. Will that be paper or plastic?"
The woman shot the man another cold gaze.
"The weapons should be forged of metal composites. Wood pulp sheets and polyurethane are not durable enough." The female explained.
The man once again sighed; he couldn't believe that anyone could be so dense.
"I mean are you going to pay cash or charge on a credit card for these things?" The man asked annoyed.
"Currency transactions are inefficient human concept." the woman said.
"Hey, it pays the bills," the man said, "now once again will that be cash or credit?" The woman didn't say anything; she reached for a box of shotgun shells that were sitting on one of the display racks.
"I'm sorry," the man said, trying to swipe the box out of the woman's hand, "I can't sell the ammo with the guns. You'll have to--Hey!"
The woman still didn't reply, as she calmly began feeding the shells into the shotgun.
"You can't to that," the man shouted. This time the woman looked at him with a sinister gaze to her face. She raised the now loaded shotgun right into the man's face.
"Wrong!" was all that the woman said, she squeezed off a single burst from the shotgun at point blank range, which tore into the man's face like it wasn't even there.
The lifeless body fell to the floor, its head completely shattered by the force of shot.
The woman ignored the body of the old man, as she carefully packed her selection, in a large duffle bag. A few seconds later she made her way out of the store, a new message suddenly flashed in front of her eyes. Current Objectives: Acquire Lodging.
The woman didn't say anything as she vanished into the haze of the city. Most of those on the street made sure to stay out of her way, those who tried to block her, found themselves knocked aside as though they weren't even there.
Location: Motel Room, Downtown Tokyo.
The woman managed to secure some lodging on the south side of the Jubaan District, just before dawn. The room was typical of some of the low rent, Western style motels that lined Jubaan's slum district, over all it was really nothing except a roach motel, with the only signs of life being a bed, TV and lamp.
She had paid a week's worth of rent in advance with some of the money she'd stolen from the pawn shop. To guarantee her privacy she warned the proprietors not to come into, or allow anyone to enter her room for any reason.
The woman carefully checked, cleaned, oiled and loaded each weapon and prepared the ammunition, before concealing half of it in her room and moving out of the window into the gathering daylight, a new objective suddenly flashed across her eyes. Objectives: Acquire Transportation
Location: Temple of Cherry Hill, that morning
"Greetings ladies," Serena said, as she made her way into Raye's bed room. Her friends though simply shot her the same cold stare they had shot her countless times before.
"Hey guys what's wrong?" Serena asked, it was then she noticed the news paper, sitting in between the girls. On the front page was a picture of one of the local pawn shops, surrounded by police.
"Don't you watch the news," Raye snarled, "There were two murders last night."
"Yeah," Lita added, "someone beat one of the local gang leaders to death, and then shot the owner of Ikari's Pawn Shop."
"The Super Intendent," Mina added, "says they're looking for a young woman some witnesses claim was in the area at the time."
"Do you guys think it was another Heart Snatcher?" Serena asked.
"Who knows," Raye replied, "but I do think we should look into it."
"I have to agree," Lita added, "if it is a Heartsnatcher, then the police won't be able to handle it.