Synopsis: A regular teenage student from early 21st century, Earth, is mysteriously transported to the universe of Vandread. Keith Greers has no understanding of his rather confusing predicament. He cannot seem to comprehend how he could have been jettisoned from the "real world" he knows to the circus that is the Nirvana. Something else that Keith, along with the whole Nirvana crew can't understand is just how he is so capable of piloting both the vanguard and the dreads as a seasoned veteran does-- even if he has have never had any formal training in his life, unless you count Saturdays at the local arcade. Humor, culture shock, and many, many awkward pauses ensue as this boy lives the lives of his fellow Nirvana crewmembers and adjusts to the clever intricacies of living in a futuristic, gender-separated society.
Can he ever find his way home? Will he still want to go home?
Read and see…
Midnight. Tuesday
A young man was just starting to drift off to sleep on a large charter bus. He had earlier made a personal commitment to try to stay awake, so as not to miss anything interesting along the way. Now, after literally hours of monotonously watching nothing but miles of outstretched fields, the effects of the trip were finally starting to take their toll on the boy.
Couple the young man's already exhausted, delirious state with the gentle, calming lullaby of the bus' machinery, and sleep for anyone would easily be a quick and obvious outcome. Although for hours, he himself had tried to fend off the silent assassin of the waking world, his awareness of the area around him quickly faded, as his eyelids grew heavier and slowly closed. Then, finally succumbing to his body, sleep came at last to the stubborn young man.
"I guess the Sandman can go ahead and take victory, this time," the young man reflected, "Well, at least I'm not the only victim," he finished, referring of course to the 20 other students on the bus with him, most of which had also submitted to their body's command to rest.
They were coming back from a nationwide culinary competition. Many on board, the young man included, still proudly wore their medals of gold, silver, and bronze respectively. As the boy laid his head back, gold medal tightly clutched in his bandaged hand, he tumbled for eternity into a dark, dreamless, yet familiar void...
"Keith! Hey, Keith!" boomed a voice he knew. It seems his visit to limbo has been cut short.
The boy woke with such a tumultuous start that he literally jumped up in his seat, causing his friend standing in the aisle to trip backwards, his head landing, with all of his weight behind it, onto the lap of a girl whom everyone back at their high school would have made an active effort to leave alone. What made the situation more volatile was not just the fact that she alone had walked away from the competition without a medal, but also that the girl was so overcome with disappointment that she could not sleep the entire night before. It would have been suicide to even try to wake her now.
If only someone had told him that...
She too jumped up rather energetically, at first wide-eyed and bewildered at being stirred so suddenly-- it was at this point, that the fuse had just been lit. Then, when she looked down and saw the cause of her rude awakening, the bomb itself went off entirely, as her hormonally-charged tirade of emotion began.
The other boy we now know as Keith just held his breath and said a quick, sincere prayer for his friend.
"Ian! What the hell do you think you're doing!" the girl demanded of the blonde trembling in her lap. Dumbstruck by her sudden burst of rage, and still very much stunned by his fall, the young man could only nervously answer in fragments.
"Uh...I don't know, Crystal. I was just um, ya know, trying to...wake up...a friend?" he answered honestly.
Certainly nothing close to what she wanted to hear, the girl shifted in her chair and in one motion unbuckled her seatbelt then dog piled the cowering youth as he desperately crawled on his palms away from her.
"Where do you think you're going?" Crystal Nichols seethed.
She was now literally on top of the poor wriggling whelp, viciously straddling the young man's torso while her knees pinned down Ian's hands at his sides. Meanwhile, as he watched, Keith was found himself expecting the girl to expose a bloodstained set of sharp, jagged fangs, release a mind-numbing wail and ravenously devour his friend's soul through his ears. In all honesty, such a sight was not hard to imagine.
"Aw, c'mon Crystal, you know it was an accident! Please, get offa me!" Ian pleaded with his captor, as he struggled to free himself from her clutches.
The enraged brunette would have none of it, as she lifted him up by his collar, swept back a lock of auburn hair from her face, and glared down at her prey with a set of authoritative, predatory brown eyes. The young man's own terrified eyes darted nervously in and out of her gaze.
"Oh, God, this is it!" Ian thought, "Dammit Keith, where are you… I could really use some help, here!"
The girl quickly regained Ian's attention with a quick, fierce slap to his left cheek.
"Now, listen closely Tomlinson!" Crystal hissed. "You've been hanging on my very last nerve these past few days... so I'll tell you this once, and only once." She had quietly whispered the last 'once', to ensure only Ian could hear. "If you cross me again before this bus stops moving, you will severely jeopardize the prosperity of your future descendants."
Ian looked terrified, but also puzzled. Further irritated, this time by the blonde's stupidity, she then slowly led Ian's gaze to his own crotch, just to make sure the young man understood exactly what was on the line. Gasping, Ian's eyes grew wide, as the message became increasingly clear.
"Are we on the same page, here, Ian?" she devilishly queried, a sickening grin playing wide across her face. The young man took a moment from his hyperventilating to take a deep gulp and rapidly nodded his head up and down in agreement.
"Good," the girl concluded.
With that issue apparently resolved, she released his collar, and stalked back to her seat. Ian, still amazed to have even survived the encounter, got up shakily and dropped down onto a seat next to his friend with a deep sigh. The two comrades just sat quietly for a few moments, neither one sure of what to do or say next. Then Keith, recalling his friend's cowardice during the encounter, broke the silence with a slight, barely audible chuckle. Ian, just now coming back to his senses, turned to his friend with disbelieving eyes, and then frustratingly yelped out of genuine awe.
"And just what is so funny! Ya know, the only reason I was put through that was because I wanted to wake you up!" the peeved blonde scolded.
Keith, glad to have his friend speaking again, flashed him a sly grin.
"Well, at least you survived, right?" Keith asked, with his frameless glasses tilted down- a gesture he had perfected in grade school, to make having glasses a little more respectable.
Ian turned, sighed deep, and passed a hand through his shoulder length, dirty blonde locks tied in a sloppy ponytail.
"Yeah, no thanks to you, pal! Where were you anyway? I was about to get skinned alive, and all you do is sit there and watch? Some friend you are!" he feigned, even crossing his arms with an upturned nose for the full effect. Keith could see right through this act-Ian had played the over-sensitivity card before, and it never worked. This time was certainly no exception.
"Nice try, Tomlinson, but I know you too well... now drop the act and tell me what 'emergency' you just had to wake me up for," Keith requested.
"Well, Greers," Ian began. The two were good enough friends to enjoy getting on each other's nerves, so mockery of last names was always a good starting point.
"If you know me like you say you do how about you use your great 'psychic prowess' to probe my mind and reveal what I'm asking?" the smug blonde continued. At this challenge, Keith turned to face his friend. He stared for a moment, grinned, and returned,
"Lemme guess: does it have something to do with a certain girl you and I know?" Ian only shook his head in disbelief.
"Oh, you're good," he conceded. "Now, seriously, what do really you think of her?" Ian's voice took on an inquisitive tone, as he waited for Keith to answer.
Unbelievably, one of the duo's favorite activities was to go around examining different things around them and offer up their own contending views. It was their personal take on a "Siskel-and-Ebert-type" friendship. A strange activity for sure, but then again, only true friends can do seemingly idiotic things together without even realizing they look idiotic. Moreover, there were no truer friends; both only 17 years old, but full of talent, potential, and audacity. They had agreed that they would take over the restaurant industry as they had everything else that stood in their way ever since they were kids: that is, together, as a team.
Now who was the girl in question? Why, none other than Crystal's twin-sister, Carla! Girls, as it turns out, were also an excellent starting point for arguments. Ian was poised to get a conversation going, as not only he had already known Carla since Kindergarten, he was also looking forward to completely going against Keith's mindset.
"After all," Ian thought, "we are best friends, and if best friends can't have different opinions, then what's the point to thought itself? Ian could be quite the philosopher when the moment allowed.
All the blonde weasel needed from Keith now was one word, even a measly adjective, and then the argument would begin, just as it easily did concerning French fries, cars, movies, and the possible ulterior motives of circus clowns (remember, these two were best friends). As such, Ian raised the question again.
"Well? What did you think of her? Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about her!" he added. Keith shrugged, and turned in his seat.
"Okay," was his simple, monotone answer.
"'Okay'... What?" Ian continued, "'Okay' as in that's your opinion, or, 'okay ' as in you haven't thought about her?"
A short pause.
"'Okay' as in I wouldn't tell you either way." Keith answered now with his eyes closed and his arms crossed; another gesture Ian had learned to take for a sign that his friend may be trying to avoid the real argument, and he certainly could not have that.
Genuinely annoyed, Ian replied, "Are you kidding me? Fuck, Keith! You had six weeks to make your move! What could have possibly kept you from even starting?"
Keith dropped his arms and cocked his head to his friend. Then, with a confident eyebrow raised, he sarcastically replied…
"Oh, I don't know... Hm, Oh wait, that's right! I remember now," he said.
Then, in a comical showing of bravado, Keith raised his palm to Ian. Gently nestled therein was a small black plastic case, and a shiny gold medal within it. Satisfied with his silent answer, the bespectacled youth thought he had finally won an argument without even having to start one. However, Ian was no fool, and he came prepared.
"Aha! So you think you can just shut me up like that, huh?" Ian asked. "Well, don't forget Keith, you weren't the only one to walk away with a little bit of gold from this trip..."
With that, Ian parted his brown leather jacket halfway, bravely showing off his own proud bravado in the form of a similar amber disk shimmering brightly as it hung from Ian's neck to defy his comrade's sense of pride. There was a brief standoff, as friend eyed friend, waiting to see who broke the stare first. However, these two had known each other too long to be ruffled by something so pointless; Keith really was happy for his friend's achievements at the competition and vice versa-after all, it was a fair tie. Therefore, out of mutual respect, they both put their medals (and their prides) aside as the bus continued its journey home.
2:51 AM Tuesday
The large, white charter bus had parked was beginning to unload the luggage as well as the students it had carried. Many were still heavily dozed from the long trip, as well as the ungodly hour at which they were expected to call their parents for rides to get home. Luckily, that would not have to be too much of a problem for Keith; his and Ian's houses; or rather apartment complex was not too far from his school. In fact, if he ever really got around to it, he might just have gotten up early enough one of these days to actually walk the brisk four miles back and forth... if he ever got around to it.
Well, either way, it looked as though he had no choice tonight but to walk. He knew that at this hour his mother would have just gotten home from the restaurant. The restaurant...the place where he was first introduced to what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. The boy smiled and ran a hand through his jet-black hair that was trimmed a little shorter than Ian's was, but was kept neater and was never as sloppy. He licked his lips at the thought of his future career conquests as Ian rummaged through a huge pile of similar-looking pieces of luggage.
"Oh crap," Keith cursed as he remembered, "I still have to report for work tomorrow... or, is it, this morning? Well, either way I just know I'm gonna end up dozing off on the line..."
"Hey Keith! Wait up!" The dark-haired youth came back to reality as Ian called from behind him somewhere. He turned around and spotted the tall blonde taking light steps to catch up.
"Took you long enough," Keith joked. Ian replied dryly, "Hey, it's not my fault that every bag looks the same in this damn darkness!"
Waving off the complaint with a shake of his head, Keith walked the all-too familiar path home with his friend, the same path they should have walked for years. As they sauntered through back alleyways and crabgrass yards, Ian suddenly noticed that his normally talkative, shorter friend was unusually quiet. He decided it was his turn to break the silence.
"So, about what we were talking about on the bus," he started. "You mean about Carla?" Keith asked.
"Yeah, uh, there's something I still don't get when it comes to the two of you...," stated Ian vaguely.
Keith responded with alarm, "What do you still not get? I thought we had argued every point about her. We didn't miss something, did we?"
Ian was surprised at his friend's sudden concern; usually it was he who got easily worried. He decided to tell his shorter shadow what was on his mind.
"No, I don't think we missed something," he assured him. "In fact, it was through our arguments that I realized..."
A slight pause.
"Well?" Keith asked, "What is it?"
Ian bit his lip, debating whether or not to tell his friend. He decided on the former.
"It's just... why do you want to get with her so badly?" Ian asked, "I mean, all you really know about her is through what we've argued, and even still, she doesn't really seem like the kind of girl for you, man."
Suddenly, Keith stopped completely in his tracks. Ian was so deep in his explanation/apology that he actually walked a few yards ahead without noticing that Keith was seated on a back alley stoop behind him. The ice-eyed blonde cautiously approached his friend, stopping a few feet away. Keith had that deep, burning glaze to his dark eyes that he usually saved for his siblings when they annoyed him, but this time it was strange. The familiar intensity was there, but Keith did not really seem to be looking at anything in particular: the stare seemed empty.
He was focusing into nothingness, yet with seemingly all of his might.
Ian had seen his friend like this before, so he was well aware of what he had to do: nothing. It was best now to let Keith start talking. A few moments later, and the routine followed through. The fire in Keith's eyes seemed to calm down as he raised his head towards Ian. Another moment later, Keith spoke, sounding winded. Defeated, really.
"You're right," Keith admitted. "I can't believe I hadn't seen how different Carla was from me until just now; I mean, I should've figured this out even way before we started talking about her."
He sounded detached, as if he was lost in his own thoughts. The despair in Keith's voice was alarming to Ian: Keith talked as though his mom had just died in his arms.
Keith continued, "She has a mature twin sister, I have a three year-old she-devil in pigtails and an infant for a brother. She's got parents who work at home, while I have a working mom who I barely see during the day."
The pain in Keith's eyes was only dimmed by his surprise at finally seeing "the truth." Ian only stood in quiet remorse; although he was a good friend and hated to see his partner in crime hurt, he was not good at "things of the heart" like this. Then again, sometimes he managed to pull through for his friend in ways that even he did not understand.
"Look Keith," Ian began. His tone was gentle and supportive. "I'm sorry if I brought up anything that changed your mind about Carla. But hey, there are other girls... millions of other girls, in fact." the blonde joked. The clever wisecrack spread a small, weak smile on Keith's face.
Seeing this, Ian decided to follow through with another hit.
"And at least one of them's gotta be for you... right, 'fun-size?'"
At that, Keith laughed aloud. "Fun-size" was a name Ian invented for Keith during an early childhood Halloween, while they were polishing off their chocolate stash and Ian noticed an interesting coincidence between his friend and the tinier candy bars scattered around their pile. Yes, Keith had always been the "not-quite-as-tall" friend, but Ian did not give him too much crap about it.
The tall blonde picked up his portable accomplice by the sleeve of his dark-red shirt and they laughed as only real friends could.
3:19 AM Tuesday
The two were now busting their guts wide open in laughter as they continued their path home, recalling the events of the trip and snickering hysterically at even the most ridiculous details. Therefore, it was a shock to Keith, who, after taking a moment to regain control, first noticed they had taken a wrong turn.
"Hey Ian," he started, "This place doesn't look familiar; in fact, I don't think I've ever even seen this alley before..."
The alarm in his friend's voice woke the blonde up quickly, as he started looking around for something he recognized, anything familiar that would lead them out. However, it was useless. Nothing looked the same. Finally, after a few moments' worry, Keith suggested a plan.
"Maybe we should just head down to one end of the alley? Even if it leads to a dead-end, then at least we know we can turn around and the other way should lead somewhere," he deduced. Ian nodded in agreement. Off they went, looking wildly around themselves as strange noises slowly filtered out of the darkness. An animal yelp there, a loud thump here.
All were common in a city however, so the two were used to them, but then slowly, both started hearing...voices. First, they came as whispers, only audible when things got quiet. Then they became louder, creepier, and came more often. The two boys quickened their pace as the voices seemed to be getting closer, and when they were loud enough for the boys to hear what they were saying, they broke off terrified in a full-blown sprint.
"Wait... wait... don't run, I... mean you... no ...harm! Come back... I just have... a simple question... to... ask," it wisped.
The boys would not stop, as it sounded too creepy. They had been running with their 50 lb. duffel bags for what seemed like an eternity now, when not only were they out of breath, but much to their disbelief, they were still lost in the alleyway.
"What the hell's going on?" Ian demanded. "How do we get out of here?" All the while, the voices got closer and closer, until... the two stopped running.
They had hit a dead-end.
"Dammit! We should've gone the other way!" Keith huffed.
Out of breath and literally with their backs to the wall, the two friends glanced at each other for a solution. The two quickly struck on the same idea. They had been cornered like this before, so they would react as they did all of those other times: fighting. The two boys looked for a weapon in their bags, in their pockets, or nearby; anything other than their bare hands would have been a welcome sight. Ian was without luck; there was nothing of use around, so he resorted using his blue canvas bag itself as a weapon. Still wheezing, he lifted the bag up only to end up dropping it again.
Keith, luckily, was a little more prepared. Out of his own black duffel, he produced a leather roll-case, easily mistakable for a small sleeping bag, but when he released the Velcro straps and stretched it out to its full length, he revealed a dozen sheathed kitchen knives as well as other tools he and Ian had shared in the competition.
"Hey, Ian, I think you'll have better luck with these!" Keith yelled, sliding a long carving fork as well as a sheathed ten-inch chef's knife over to his friend, who was struggling to hold his duffel bag steady.
"Thanks," Ian responded, laying his heavy bag aside as he freed the cold blade from its hard plastic prison and he held it up to bear.
He and Keith had been taking martial arts classes together since the 3rd grade, when the Johansen brothers set their sights against the duo. Despite their rigorous training to adapt with any situational weapons, a knife or even a fork were no doubt welcome reassurances for Ian. Keith on the other hand, felt better to be safe than sorry, as he brought up his own ten-inch chef's knife, along with a smaller eight-inch serrated utility knife, just in case...
They held their favorite combat stances side by side, an arrangement Keith and Ian had been in many times.
The two focused to clear their minds and ready themselves for the fight. Whoever or whatever it was that would emerge from those shadows, Ian and Keith had decided long before this night that anything that stood in their way would be taken down, and this new foe was no exception. Their nervous anticipation grew as they slowed down their breathing; another technique they had learned to hone down to second nature-in case they were in for a long or outnumbered fight.
A few more moments and then they were ready. Just like a hundred times before in their lives, Keith and Ian were poised to fight. They stood their ground and waited. However, no visible foe materialized before them. No strange, identifiable figure stepped forth to oppose the armed teens. The two just stood there, nervously waiting in their combat stances. The seconds seemed to stretch into eons.
One minute...
Two minutes...
Three minutes...
This was just too much. Finally, at the end of his wits and patience, Keith yelled first.
"Who's there? Why are you following us? Who are you, and WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" Exasperated, Keith dropped his stance, while Ian tensed slightly.
Still there was nothing; no response. "Come on, Ian. This is useless," Keith stated, "they must've left already..."
Then, in the depths of the alleyway, a strange bright light suddenly filled the shadows, barreling towards the boys at a terrifying speed. Keith gasped aloud as Ian's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets.
"Holy shit, he's gonna run us down!" Ian yelled.
Keith looked around for a way to escape. To his disappointment, there was nowhere to go: no open doorways, no low walls or fire escape ladders, no dumpsters to climb on top of-they were trapped. Refusing to stand down even then, the boys re-sheathed their knives and fork, Keith stuffed the smaller knife into the front pocket of his well-worn denim jeans then they grabbed their bags and stood firm, hoping to maybe jump on the hood of what they assumed to be a car, if they could time it right-another one of Ian's "easier said than done" plans. Keith looked at his beat up once-red sneakers and gulped slightly.
The light held its charge towards them... they had only one last chance to glance at each other, but even then they still would not say goodbye.
"You ready?" Keith grinned.
"I'm always, ready, short-stuff," Ian chimed back.
Then the wall of blue light seemed to rise dozens of feet into the air before sharply curving back downward like a giant tidal wave, and one of the boys were pulled inside it as they both jumped as high as their legs would allow.
I'm really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really sorry that I only posted this now. I promise you few and faithful readers left out there that this story is still just beginning. Balancing between two fics that occupy similar galaxies of ideas in my head isn't easy, and well, I'll admit I'm ready for a change of pace. Those of you in this section who've read my other fic shouldn't be alarmed, however. Just like I came back here, I'll soon return to Love Hina eventually as well.
But not now… oh hell no, not now.
At this very moment, let me assure you that I've got my crosshairs dead-centered on Vandread. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the story as it stands, I sincerely recommend going back to read the previous chapters. And quickly. A hiatus as long as I've had from here means my return writing will push this story as fast as my ideas for it vanish from memory.
I truly apologize for making you few and faithful wait so long.
Especially you, Laser Crusader, you insatiable Vandread monkey-whore, you. Thanks for endlessly, relentlessly, annoyingly reminding me of my home-base here as well. I promise that those 22 private messages you've sent me will be answered in spades, 'kay?
None of you can even fathom how absolutely wonderful it feels to have my fingers type words for this section of the site again.
It has indeed been far too long.