From: bkoike@sdcc13.UCSD.EDU (Bryce Koike)
Subject: STORY: The Otherworld (Chapter 7)
Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 1992 18:52:07 GMT

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                   The Otherworld <> Chapter 7

                          :: FUGITIVES ::

                   Copyright 1992 by Bryce Koike
                        All Rights Reserved
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-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 
     Any comments, criticisms, opinions, etc, are welcome.  I can
be reached on Internet as:
     bkoike@sdcc13.ucsd.edu
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
"The sweet smell of a great sorrow lies over the land
Plumes of smoke rise and merge into the leaden sky:
A man lies and dreams of green fields and rivers,
But awakes to a morning with no reason for waking"
                            ("Sorrow" -- Pink Floyd)
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Date:      September 13, 1992
Location:  Hayward, California
           Otherworld
Time:      8:00 pm

    "Wolves?" said Vince.  He peered out the window.  "Matt, turn
down the light.  I can't see out there."
    "Right."  It had started up but a minute ago, the loud,
frightening howling of something that sounded alot like wolves.  His
mind felt like a huge itch that could not be scratched.  "Sounds as
if they're right outside," Matt noted.
    "That's better.  How many do you think there are?  Sounds like a
lot."
    It was getting louder; a sea of mad cries boiling up.
    "Get out of my head," said Matt, his eyes rolling toward the
sky, searching for something, for a sign.
    Vince spun.  "Matt, what is it?  Is it happening again?"
    "They're there," Matt told him, "everywhere.  Get Tracy.  Get
ready to run.  That's all we can hope to do."
    "Matt?"
    Matt's eyes turned down from the ceiling.  "Go Vince, go now,"
he said and turned to peer out the window.  "The Hunt is coming.
They are all coming."
    "Tracy?" Vince called out.  "Tracy!  Hurry, we've got to go!"

    I wondered if they could smell me, those strange beasts which
were running the streets.  Fifteen, perhaps twenty of them, in
search of something.  Of the three children?  That would not be
good.  And behind them came their leader, an abomination of man and
beast, riding a sled of bloody heads.  I paused atop my perch for a
moment and then took my leap, catching a firm grip on the ledge.  I
would have to hurry.
    I increased the strength to my legs.  I must move faster!

    Vince leaped for the door, the shotgun in his hand.  Opening it,
he stared outside.  Beyond that doorway stood twenty monsters
prowling the courtyard of the apartment complex.  He slammed the
door shut and took the safety off of the shotgun.
    "MATT!" he yelled.  "It's too late, Matt!"
    "The wolves are outside?" Tracy said.  "Well, why don't we start
a fire or something?  Fire should scare them away."
    Matt walked brisquely into the front room.  "Fire will not scare
away the Hunt," he said.  There was a faraway look in his eyes as he
held the gun.  "Tracy, take my gun.  The safety is off.  All you
have to do is point and shoot."
    "No."
    He hit her with a withering glare.  "Take the gun, Tracy, if you
want us to live through this encounter with the Hunt."
    "How do you know what they are?"
    "How do I know I walk this world, Tracy?  I know.  I know.  How
many, Vince?"
    Vince shook his head.  "Too many, man."
    "And the Hunter not even here, yet.  Ah, this is bad.  Open the
door."
    "Matt, they'll come in!"
    "So then let them in!  They will come to their death!" Matt
cried.  He raised an arm and the door exploded off of its hinges.
"Shoot them now."
    "What?!"
    "SHOOT THEM!"
    Already some of the beasts were cautiously approaching the
doorway.  Vince swung the shotgun around and pulled the trigger.  It
gave a firm kick to his shoulder and he pumped the shotgun.  Pulled
the trigger again.  One of them went down.
    A look of fear on her face, Tracy dropped to a knee and pointed
the gun at the beasts.  She jerked at the trigger and missed.  Matt
wrapped his arms around her.
    "Squeeze the trigger," he said in her ear.  "You see how you
want to sight down the barrel?  Don't fire shots off too quickly;
you'll just spoil your aim.  Only seven bullets are left in the
clip."
    But his eyes were not fixed on her or the gun but on the wolves.
The Hunt.  Vince cursed.  The shotgun was empty and only three had
been killed.  Tracy was pulling the trigger but nothing was
happening.  Somehow she had already used up all of her ammunition.
    "Matt!" she screamed.  "Oh jesus!"

    They were under attack!  Could I drive off these creatures
without revealing myself to the boy's companions?  I was still
uncertain of his motivations.  He could be my greatest enemy here.
    My weapons were few and more suited to assassination than
combat, but now I had no choice.  I charged those farthest back,
knowing that my combat actions would interfere with the chameleon
system.  At first the creatures were unaware of my presence.  But
then they turned toward me.

    Four charged for the door.  Tracy shrieked and threw herself
away.  Matt shoved Vince out of the side with a single push of his
hand.  And then it was him alone against the four.
    "Fear," he thought.  "Pain."  His concentration increased.
    "Death."
    Lightning seemed to coarse up his arms.  "Kill."  Matt threw out
a fist at the charging creatures and two fell immediately.  The
others stopped, confused.  He brought both of his palms together and
then the other two died as well.
    A commotion was building near the far end of the courtyard.  "So
you came," thought Matt.  But then the beasts were charging again.
Vince slammed the last catridge in and aimed his sights on the
nearest beast and let loose.
    Almost as suddenly as it had started, it was over.  In the
distance a lone horn sounded, rising above the clammor of violence.
The beasts raised their heads to the sound of the horn and turned to
leave.  Vince lowered the shotgun.
    The effects of the energy drain were immediate.  Matt collapsed
to the floor, his skin pale and clammy.  "Vince," he whispered.
"Vince, help.  Help me."  Then everything was going black.

    "I am intrigued," said the lord.  "His powers are great,
certainly enough to dwarf those of our own Mindovers, and yet the
use of them exhausts him to the point of uselessness.  His is not a
Mindover, Ecee-Ruse?"
    "No, lord, or at least not of the type we are familiar with.
His abilities are quite impressive.  Even our own advisors have
been known to keel over from energy drain after a particularly long
session with the Overmind, so the effects of his abilities are not
overly suprising."
    "Hmm . . . yes.  What made the Hunter leave the scene?"
    "There was some unknown activity near the other end of the
courtyard, lord.  Some very strange activity indeed.  If you'll look
you'll notice six dead warbeasts there.  They are bloodied in a
manner that suggests a knife or other such bladed weapon.  None of
the manlings possessed such weapons."
    "And the attacker?"
    "Unknown."
    "Ridiculous," muttered the lord.  "Another Mindover, perhaps?"
    Advisor Sala interrupted.  "Impossible, lord.  We would have
detected such activity.  The manling boy is new to his powers and
would not have the knowledge to create a psychic resonance to drown
out the other.  I suggest that perhaps another method is at work."
    "Explain, Sala."
    "Technology, lord.  The Quunan Mur themselves have great
technologies at their disposal.  Either one of their own might be
involved or another with similar technologies.
    Sala paused for a moment to consult the Overmind.  "The power
requirements for a technology that could make a person invisible
would be great, though.  Indeed, its effectiveness is limited to the
point where only night actions would make it effective.  This is
according to the Slool who have knowledge of such technologies."
    "So it does not grant true invisibility?"
    "Nay, lord, but it is extremely effective camouflage."
    The lord nodded.  "So it seems," he said, "that we have a new
adversary.  Find him!  I want to know his mind!  Scour the area for
him!"
    "Yes, lord.  It will be done immediately. . . immediately . . .
immediately . . ."

    . . . and then she awoke from it all, as if it was a horrible
dream.  But it had been like the others.  And like all the others it
had been about the same people.
    "Otherworld," she said to herself.  "I would like to go there."
And so she lay there in her bed, staring toward the ceiling,
wondering in amazement at the three faces they had shown on the
television two weeks ago of three people who looked so amazingly
like Matt, Vince, Tracy, Chris, and Jan.  And they all seemed so
very real.
    "Could it be?" she asked herself.  "Could it exist?"  But no, it
was all too strange, too bizarre.  Who would listen to her?  It
could be no more than a product of her imaginzation.  She closed her
eyes and slowly she fell back to sleep.
    Even if it was a dream, she wanted to know what would happen
next.

    Tracy stared at the gun in her hands, at its heavy cold steel,
and then dropped it to the floor.  The air in front of her seemed to
shimmer and then solidify into that of a man.
    "If you would excuse me," he said, "my name is Jiro.  Jiro
Mitsuo."
    On his face was a grim look.  "There will be more later," he
told her.  When she did not answer he frowned.  "Did Matt not speak
to you of me?"
    "You- you-"
    Jiro spun away and crouched to check Matt.  "He is weak," Jiro
noted.  "His power must have drained him greatly.  Neither of you
are killers."  It was a statement, not a question.
    "Yes," answered Vince.
    "He, he is a killer," said Jiro, meaning Matt.  "He does not
like it, but he is beginning to realize himself, I believe."
    "What do you know of his power?  Of Matt?"
    The man paused for a moment.  "I know little.  Only that which I
have witnessed with my own eyes and mind.  Within this boy-child is
a great power."  He injected two cartridges into Matt's neck.
"Power that must be aligned."  He twisted his head to stare at
Vince.  "Who do you ally yourself with?"
    "Uh . . . Trace?  Trace?"
    She slowly raised herself to her feet.  Somehow the empty gun
had made its way to her hands to hang limply at her side.
    "We're for ourselves," she answered.  "Nothing else."
    The man nodded.  "Rarely safer to walk the middle ground," he
said.  "It invites attacks from both sides.  It seems that this
world is involved in a conflict that goes beyond both of our . . .
loyalties."
    "Who do you ally YOURself with?" questioned Vince.  The color
returning to Matt's face reassured him.  "This guy seems okay," he
said to himself.
    The man cocked his head for a moment.  "I think that I must ally
myself with you," he answered.  "With you and any others who stand
against this strange threat."  He waved an arm at the carnage
outside.  "My loyalties were with the Combined Alliances.  Now I
know that such loyalties must be . . . postponed . . . till later.
He will live.  A brave boy.  His burden is heavy."
    "What burden?"
    The man smiled.  "The burden of power, sir.  Those who do not
allow power to engulf them with its own momentum must always stand
before it and hold it back.  This is the danger, always.  And one
can only stand against such temptation with a clear mind, for anger
is its doorway."
    He quickly stood and cocked his head, listening.  "Now I will be
gone," he told them.  "I will never be far away, but my presence
endangers you all.  They hunt for me now."  Yes, the sensation was
there, like someone seeking out his mind.  So the enemy also
possessed such powers.  "Tell your companion I am sorry that I must
go before he recovers.  I beg you to flee this place, for soon it
will be overrun."
    Tracy coughed.  "Wait!  Wait.  What do you mean, `flee'?  Matt's
knocked out, where are we going to go?"
    "You have a vehicle," he said even as he began to melt into the
night.  "Make use of it."  Only his face could be seen.  With a
regretful look he said, "There is help toward the north.  Sadly, I
have no place there.  Go now."  And then like a ripple in a pool of
water his face wavered and disappeared.

    Like the way night engulfs and swallows the day, so will I allow
it to devour me.  Take me unto its shadow.  And I will leave, now.
For truly to the north, where my enemies lie, I have no place there.
Come to me, my enemies, we will see what a member of the Combine
special forces can do against such an enemy as you.  Let it be a
fine hunt.

    "He was wrong about one thing," remarked Vince as they stood at
the remains of their vehicle.  It seems the Hunt had taken to it
previous to their attack.  "We do not have a car."  They had dragged
Matt from the apartment with the plans of loading him in the car.
"How long before he recovers?"
    Tracy shook her head.  "I don't know, Vince.  Dammit, I don't
know.  Do you think we could manage to hotwire a car?"
    "It's worth a try, I guess.  Here, gimme Matt."
    "Vince?"
    "Hmm?"
    From her jacket pocket she pulled out the gun.  "Show me how to
load this gun, Vince."

    "He is a warrior, lord," said Sala.  "Born and bred by his
people to produce death at their command.  His mind is remarkably
ordered."
    "Is that so?"  The lord crouched in his chair, watching the
ripple move across the night sky.  Such excellent concealment.
    "Indeed.  Few among even the Mindover have such an organization,
such control over their own self.  Even so, all must have their
weakness.  Soon enough we will ferret it out and use it against
him."
    The manling had aquired new weapons from a local store.  They
seemed to cause interference with his camouflage, making his form
more obvious against the night.  As usual, the Elders who were
creating the sight bubble did not speak.  It was not asked of them.
    "Sala, what makes the people form such alliances against us?"
asked the lord.  "To the south we have met renewed opposition.
Already we have lost three `convoys' heading toward the southern
city known as San Diego.  What say you?"
    "They are fugitives here, lord.  Regardless of their own
intentions, we are the ones seeking to rule this world.  That makes
us the enemy.  Of course we will meet with those whose own
intentions may . . . mesh with our own in ways, like the Slool, and
those we will find useful.  But the others must be dealt with as the
vermin they are.  The resistance is unorganized, lord, and that
makes them very, very vulnerable."

    "There, that's the safety.  You keep that off unless you plan on
using the gun, hear?  And never point the gun at someone unless
you're going to kill them.  Never. You keep the barrel pointed up at
all times unless you have a target.  Got that?"
    She nodded, turning the gun over in her hands.  "I never
realized how heavy these are," she said.  "Okay, let's see to a car.
You have a preference?"
    "There's a car right over there.  Let's try it for starters."
    "Right."

    The hunter will become the hunted.

    Tracy hefted the crowbar and took a swing at the car's window.
It did not shatter quite like it did in the movies.  It took a
minute before she had cleared the glass away so that they could get
in the car.
    "Now what?" she asked.
    Vince shrugged.  "I've never hotwired a car before.  You watch
movies?  They always cross some wires and presto.  Guess it can't
hurt to try, hmm?"
    In the back seat Matt moaned.

    The Hunter turned his head toward the sky and gathered a deep
breath.  His target was new and the prey's stench was carefully
hidden.  Did this creature fly?  The Hunter scanned the horizon.  No
being there.  The diplomats had said the prey was "elegently
hidden."  Then he would not be a simple target to find.  With a
solid grunt the Hunter bid the Hunt continue down the street.

    "This isn't working," muttered Vince.  "Dammit.  C'mon!"
    "Vince, I'm going to start moving stuff out of our car," said
Tracy.  In the distance the howls could be heard.  "Vince, you
better work quick."
    Tracy rushed to their car and pulled out all the ammunition they
had.  How strange that she chose that first.  A few days ago she
would have gone for food, for the other supplies first.  Was the
howling getting closer?  She couldn't tell.  Then the food, the
sleeping bags.
    "Move faster, girl," she spat at herself.
    The engine coughed.  "Whoa!" cried Vince.  "Hey, Trace, I think
I've got it!  Let's go, baby, show me what you can do . . ."
    Tracy stopped in mid-run when she watched the beast trotting
down the street toward them.  She whipped out the gun, but it did
not stop to even look at them.  Behind her, the car roared to life.
    "Bravo!" cried Vince.  "Store one for the Vince-meister!  Okay,
babe, let's blow this joint!"
    "Forget the books," Tracy told herself, "you've got to go."  But
something in her wanted them.  "No!" she said and turned and ran for
the car.

    "I see you," I whispered to the wind.  The rifle kicked once in
my hands and one of the warbeasts died.  Now I would move.  Piece by
piece I will take apart your hunt, and then it will just be you and
me.  Can you smell me?  Let us test your mettle.

    "Where do we go?" asked Vince as he peeled out.
    "North!" yelled Tracy.  She leaned her head out the window,
trying to locate a shimmering form against the horizon.  There was
none.  "Jiro!" she yelled.  "Jiro, we're LEAVING!"

    Flight units scoured the local area.  Expensive, but necessary.
The Quunan Mur noticed activity to the east and sent more units
there.  Along the streets of the night rode the Hunt.  So the
Eternals were here.
    One of the Quunan Mur rose his head from the display.  "This we
have expected," he said in an all-too perfect voice.  "Prepare the
warriors.  We will send out a raiding party and determine the
enemy's strength.  Dookan, we must know who the Hunt chases
tonight."
    "Aye."
    Slowly the flyers zoomed in.

    "A fight!" I yelled into the winds.  "A fight, hunter!  Between
you and I!  No weapons but our own bodies!  Call off your Hunt or I
will slaughter all of your beasts!"
    The hunter looked toward the sky and his eyes seemed to lock
onto me.  Did he too possess such strange powers?  He turned and
blew his horn in stacatto.  The beasts reluctantly turned to leave.
Now we are alone.  I stripped myself of all weapons and reduced my
camouflage to nil.  Then strengthening my legs, I plummeted from the
building to land in the street below.
    I bowed as was the custom.  Before me stood the hunter, his
powerful muscles rippling like waves across the ocean.  He did not
move save to remove the battleaxe at his side and drop it to the
ground.
    Taking up a low stance, I prepared to do battle, gathering my
energies in my muscles, my bones.  I set the appropriate drugs at
ready if it would prove necessary for me to use them.  They would
mean death to me, but while they ate away my body I would be nearly
unstoppable.
    The hunter took two swift steps forward and swung at me.  The
battle had begun.

    Matt's eyes opened.  He felt so weak that he could barely move.
All he could do was stare upward, at the roof of the car.  He did
not even have to flex his powers to feel the tension in the air.
Their battle had been effectively lost.  They were running.  Things
turned in his head, things which he could not understand.
    "No one will support me now," he told himself.  "I am alone in
my struggle.  But who is my true enemy?"  In his delirium images
blasted through his mind, his hand with a gun to Tracy's temple, his
body hiding behind another's as it was riddled with bullets.  He
would stand atop a hill with blood on his hands, dripping from his
mouth and teeth to form pools at his feet.  Clutched in his fist
would be a head -- not a human head but a chitinous one.  The Power
would stream from him like a sieve, Power unheard of by mortal man.
And from his voice would come a scream of bloody joy.  All these he
would be responsible for.  His Kingdom of pain.
    "No," he whispered.  "This can't be."

    The hunter was stronger than I could ever imagine.  Even so, I
had military advantage and incredible flexibility to my advantage.
I quickly ducked under a crushing blow aimed at my skull and I
lanced out with quick blows to his stomach.  They didn't seem to
faze him at all.
    His fist connect with my jaw and for a moment everything hazed
to red.  Only luck saved me from the two swings which followed.  He
was a clumsy warrior, though, accustomed to using his great strength
to place his blows.  At that moment the boy's words returned to me.
    "What happens to the fist when the hand is opened?"
    I opened my fist and slammed my finger deep into the hunter's
eye socket and felt blood.  I took that moment to take great blows
to his neck.  Did he have a crotch as we do?  I decided not to waste
my chance to find out.  My snap kick took him in the chin and there
was an uncharacteristic snap that strangely puzzled me.
    He flipped back and screamed a horrifyingly human scream.  I
pushed all my strength to my arms and hands and wrapped my hands
around his neck.  With near-surgical care I took it and twisted,
feeling bone scrape bone, feeling his neck separate and then
shatter.  The hunter was still.  The night was silent.
    I too am a killer.

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