Still working on Chapter 1, nearing completion though. Since the Prologue didn't get many comments I figured I'd post what I've got completed of Chapter 1 to generate more interest. Once the Prologue is spellchecked, I will post it on FF.net, complete Chapter 1 (if it isn't already done by then) and begin work on Chapter 2. Chapter 1 will be posted when Chapter 2 is complete, Chapter 2 will be posted when Chapter 3 is complete, and so on/so forth. If I experience delays in writing a certain chapter, I can post the already-completed chapter before it to buy more time and keep you impatient harmanz happy.
Enjoy.
That's all you're getting until someone spellchecks the Prologue.
Enjoy.
Dead Hina
By: Dark Knight Gafgar
Disclaimer: I do not own the Love Hina or Urban Dead franchises. This is a non-profit fanfiction. Any and all original characters and advanced/original plot details, as well as the writing itself, belong to Dark Knight Gafgar (namely, me).
-----
Chapter One
"All passengers; this is the captain speaking. We have now arrived at Narita International Airport, and will be disembarking shortly-what the? OH GOD! OH GOD! NO-ARRRGGGGHHHHH!"
Keitaro snorted suddenly, eyes blinking slowly as his higher motor functions and brain activities - those that still existed, anyway - slowly awoke themselves and returned him to his senses. As he took in the carnage of the main cabin, he frowned. When he'd finally exhausted himself and fallen into the zambah equivelent of a deep sleep, the plane had just left from Malton International Airport after an unbearable hour-long delay. Some nonsense about a quarantine and a lack of a tower control crew to give takeoff clearance, or something like that. Simply inexcusable, in Keitaro's opinion. But regardless, when he'd nodded off, the situation in the cabin had been much more controlled and relaxed than it was now. Whereas before Keitaro, along with a small group of his zethren who had decided to accompany him on his trip home, had been sitting in a calm environment where the stewards and hostesses had been politely offering drinks and snacks while trying to puzzle out the strange dialect their passengers all seemed to speak - harmans never were very fluent in Zamgrh - and why their passengers seemed a little different compared to most. Now, Keitaro took in a scene of confused chaos, a number of his agitated comrades milling about in a disorganized mob while screams and cries of terror from the cockpit and rear of the plane announced the unfortunately imminent and bloody end of the flight crew.
What had happened here?
Rising to his feet, Keitaro lurched out into the aisle, waving his arms about in an effort to attract the attention of his charges. "Gang!", he called out, succeeding in gaining the attention of the disorganized mob in front of him, who turned and started to shamble in his direction. "Grah habban hrh?", he queried as they approached.
One figure made his way through the mob to respond, and Keitaro noted with pleasant surprise that it was his dining companion from the day before, now dressed semi-formally in a pair of shredded gray boxers and a black kevlar vest. The skeletal figure grunted, then pointed to a row of seats behind Keitaro, who turned and noted a pair of harmans laying face-down on the cabin floor, handguns held in their outstretched hands. "Bang bang manz."
"Gah.", Keitaro grunted, then sighed. Not only had their flight been unneccessarily delayed for so long, but a pair of harmans had up and decided to draw down on his innocent comrades? No wonder they were so agitated! The lack of manners was simply inexcusable! Regardless, staying on the plane forever wouldn't solve anything. Best for them to just forget the incident, continue on, and let bygones be bygones. With this goal in mind, Keitaro gathered up his fellow zethren, and the proud procession made it's way off the plane and into the terminal.
Where they were promptly stopped by a group of armed airport security officers.
"FREEZE!", one yelled, gun trained on Keitaro, who stood at the front of the procession. "DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!"
Keitaro blinked. Weapons? He turned to the gathering behind them and gave them a questioning look. "Mrh?"
The group rumbled in confusion for a moment, and then an older zambah dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of blue jean shorts shouldered his way through the crowd, a large round object clutched half-hidden behind his back in one hand. The figure bowed somewhat, and then, with a flourish, removed his lower jaw with his free hand, discarding it to the side. Then, raising the object behind his back to his face - and revealing it to be the decapitated head of the pilot - he produced a straw, jammed it through one of the head's eye sockets, and began to drink contentedly.
Grunting, Keitaro turned toward the airport security officers, not noticing the looks of sickened horror they wore. Surely they didn't expect ALL of them to remove their jaws?! How absurd! Keitaro raised one clawed hand in protest-
The sound of the gunshot was deafening. Within a split second, the first security officer's gun jerked back as the man's finger twitched on the trigger, the bullet smashing into Keitaro's head and blowing a shower of congealed blood, brain matter, and bone fragments out the back of his skull. Keitaro's body dropped to the ground, twitching for several moments, and then lay still.
A crowd of onlookers quickly gathered behind the airport security officers, ignoring their demands to clear the area as they took in the scene, a few gasping or screaming. Then suddenly the crowd began to collectively scream in stark terror, dispersing and fleeing the area as fast as they could.
The security officers turned back to the scene before them and stared in horror.
The crowd of assorted figures before them glared, a few grunting or grumbling threateningly.
The elder in the Hawaiian shirt continued to slurp bran through his straw.
A skeleton in the background wearing gray shorts and a kevlar vest suddenly began dancing the Thriller routine.
Keitaro's body rose, his eyes narrowed in anger as he glared at the man who'd shot him - who'd headshotted him! While blood from the wound still stained the floor behind him, the damage to his head had completely disappeared, as if there had been no wound at all. Keitaro and the group behind him were oblivious to this as Keitaro's jaw unhinged and his mouth opened impossibly wide, and then, from deep within his chest, an inconcievably loud groan emanated our, audible throughout the entire airport terminal. People boarding and disembarking planes hundreds of yards away stood frozen in shock as a primal call of aggression and hunger sounded throughout the area, children wailing and pets and other animals either breaking free of their stunned controllers and fleeing or throwing themselves about in their cages, howling out in terrified fear - or, in a few frightening cases, hungerous and maddened frenzy.
The Feeding Groan sounded, Keitaro thrust one limb out, gesturing toward the armed men before him. "Gang!", he roared in command, "Grab arm, harm man... GRAB BRAINZ!"
Then, with a roar of "BARHAH!", the group of enraged undead charged.
-----
A lithe, voluptuous figure with a head of short, dusty-blond hair lay reclined like a queen of old on the sofa in the main room of the Hinata Sou, a bottle of sake in hand, eyes closed as she guzzled the rice wine straight from the bottle.
Mitsune Konno, known as Kitsune to her friends (and even to a few enemies and rivals), was NOT having a good day. Nor a good week, in fact.
She'd lost big on the baseball game last weekend, lost big on the football - or soccer, as the gaijin in America called it - game two days ago, and had even lost big on the Nerima scuffle yesterday. It figured, of course, that the one time she placed a bet down there-
"And they're off!", an announcer on the television suddenly exclaimed, drawing Kitsune's attention to the point that she gazed disinterestedly at it with only one half-opened eye. With her current string of luck, she'd no doubt lose big on the horse races too, shortly before she contracted some exotic and rare uncurable disease, followed by the end of the world at the hands of a psychopathic bronze robot.
Life, she decided, simply wasn't fair.
"And Pillow Biter takes the lead!"
Or hell, maybe it was.
Kitsune leaned forward, watching the television with renewed interest and becoming more and more excited by the moment as she reached into her blouse and extracted several betting tickets - all of the bets placed for a horse that Kitsune had bet on after taking a liking to the name in a drunken frenzy and had immediately regretted (along with the drunken frenzy) the next morning. A horse that was now winning the race. "Pillow Biter has just pulled ahead of Neutered Nik, with Lolly's Fern and Knuckle Shuffle battling it out for third and Tight Brown falling behind to the rear!"
"Come on... come on...", Kitsune mumbled, eyes shining in excitement. Pillow Biter was a 12/1 odds bet - if she won now, she'd have enough cash to make up all of her losses and still make a hefty profit! "COME ON!"
"Pillow Biter is increasing her lead! Lolly's Fern is now pulling alongside Neutered Nik, with Knuckle Shuffle and Tight Brown in fourth and fifth!"
"COME ON!"
"Lolly's Fern has just put on an incredible burst of speed and has pulled alongside Pillow Biter! They're neck and neck!"
"COME ON! COME ON!"
"The finish line is in sight! Lolly's Fern is starting to gain a slight lead!"
"COMEONCOMEONCOMEONCOMEONCOMEON-"
"-we interrupt this scheduled broadcast for a special news bulletin!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
By: Dark Knight Gafgar
Disclaimer: I do not own the Love Hina or Urban Dead franchises. This is a non-profit fanfiction. Any and all original characters and advanced/original plot details, as well as the writing itself, belong to Dark Knight Gafgar (namely, me).
-----
Chapter One
"All passengers; this is the captain speaking. We have now arrived at Narita International Airport, and will be disembarking shortly-what the? OH GOD! OH GOD! NO-ARRRGGGGHHHHH!"
Keitaro snorted suddenly, eyes blinking slowly as his higher motor functions and brain activities - those that still existed, anyway - slowly awoke themselves and returned him to his senses. As he took in the carnage of the main cabin, he frowned. When he'd finally exhausted himself and fallen into the zambah equivelent of a deep sleep, the plane had just left from Malton International Airport after an unbearable hour-long delay. Some nonsense about a quarantine and a lack of a tower control crew to give takeoff clearance, or something like that. Simply inexcusable, in Keitaro's opinion. But regardless, when he'd nodded off, the situation in the cabin had been much more controlled and relaxed than it was now. Whereas before Keitaro, along with a small group of his zethren who had decided to accompany him on his trip home, had been sitting in a calm environment where the stewards and hostesses had been politely offering drinks and snacks while trying to puzzle out the strange dialect their passengers all seemed to speak - harmans never were very fluent in Zamgrh - and why their passengers seemed a little different compared to most. Now, Keitaro took in a scene of confused chaos, a number of his agitated comrades milling about in a disorganized mob while screams and cries of terror from the cockpit and rear of the plane announced the unfortunately imminent and bloody end of the flight crew.
What had happened here?
Rising to his feet, Keitaro lurched out into the aisle, waving his arms about in an effort to attract the attention of his charges. "Gang!", he called out, succeeding in gaining the attention of the disorganized mob in front of him, who turned and started to shamble in his direction. "Grah habban hrh?", he queried as they approached.
One figure made his way through the mob to respond, and Keitaro noted with pleasant surprise that it was his dining companion from the day before, now dressed semi-formally in a pair of shredded gray boxers and a black kevlar vest. The skeletal figure grunted, then pointed to a row of seats behind Keitaro, who turned and noted a pair of harmans laying face-down on the cabin floor, handguns held in their outstretched hands. "Bang bang manz."
"Gah.", Keitaro grunted, then sighed. Not only had their flight been unneccessarily delayed for so long, but a pair of harmans had up and decided to draw down on his innocent comrades? No wonder they were so agitated! The lack of manners was simply inexcusable! Regardless, staying on the plane forever wouldn't solve anything. Best for them to just forget the incident, continue on, and let bygones be bygones. With this goal in mind, Keitaro gathered up his fellow zethren, and the proud procession made it's way off the plane and into the terminal.
Where they were promptly stopped by a group of armed airport security officers.
"FREEZE!", one yelled, gun trained on Keitaro, who stood at the front of the procession. "DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!"
Keitaro blinked. Weapons? He turned to the gathering behind them and gave them a questioning look. "Mrh?"
The group rumbled in confusion for a moment, and then an older zambah dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of blue jean shorts shouldered his way through the crowd, a large round object clutched half-hidden behind his back in one hand. The figure bowed somewhat, and then, with a flourish, removed his lower jaw with his free hand, discarding it to the side. Then, raising the object behind his back to his face - and revealing it to be the decapitated head of the pilot - he produced a straw, jammed it through one of the head's eye sockets, and began to drink contentedly.
Grunting, Keitaro turned toward the airport security officers, not noticing the looks of sickened horror they wore. Surely they didn't expect ALL of them to remove their jaws?! How absurd! Keitaro raised one clawed hand in protest-
The sound of the gunshot was deafening. Within a split second, the first security officer's gun jerked back as the man's finger twitched on the trigger, the bullet smashing into Keitaro's head and blowing a shower of congealed blood, brain matter, and bone fragments out the back of his skull. Keitaro's body dropped to the ground, twitching for several moments, and then lay still.
A crowd of onlookers quickly gathered behind the airport security officers, ignoring their demands to clear the area as they took in the scene, a few gasping or screaming. Then suddenly the crowd began to collectively scream in stark terror, dispersing and fleeing the area as fast as they could.
The security officers turned back to the scene before them and stared in horror.
The crowd of assorted figures before them glared, a few grunting or grumbling threateningly.
The elder in the Hawaiian shirt continued to slurp bran through his straw.
A skeleton in the background wearing gray shorts and a kevlar vest suddenly began dancing the Thriller routine.
Keitaro's body rose, his eyes narrowed in anger as he glared at the man who'd shot him - who'd headshotted him! While blood from the wound still stained the floor behind him, the damage to his head had completely disappeared, as if there had been no wound at all. Keitaro and the group behind him were oblivious to this as Keitaro's jaw unhinged and his mouth opened impossibly wide, and then, from deep within his chest, an inconcievably loud groan emanated our, audible throughout the entire airport terminal. People boarding and disembarking planes hundreds of yards away stood frozen in shock as a primal call of aggression and hunger sounded throughout the area, children wailing and pets and other animals either breaking free of their stunned controllers and fleeing or throwing themselves about in their cages, howling out in terrified fear - or, in a few frightening cases, hungerous and maddened frenzy.
The Feeding Groan sounded, Keitaro thrust one limb out, gesturing toward the armed men before him. "Gang!", he roared in command, "Grab arm, harm man... GRAB BRAINZ!"
Then, with a roar of "BARHAH!", the group of enraged undead charged.
-----
A lithe, voluptuous figure with a head of short, dusty-blond hair lay reclined like a queen of old on the sofa in the main room of the Hinata Sou, a bottle of sake in hand, eyes closed as she guzzled the rice wine straight from the bottle.
Mitsune Konno, known as Kitsune to her friends (and even to a few enemies and rivals), was NOT having a good day. Nor a good week, in fact.
She'd lost big on the baseball game last weekend, lost big on the football - or soccer, as the gaijin in America called it - game two days ago, and had even lost big on the Nerima scuffle yesterday. It figured, of course, that the one time she placed a bet down there-
"And they're off!", an announcer on the television suddenly exclaimed, drawing Kitsune's attention to the point that she gazed disinterestedly at it with only one half-opened eye. With her current string of luck, she'd no doubt lose big on the horse races too, shortly before she contracted some exotic and rare uncurable disease, followed by the end of the world at the hands of a psychopathic bronze robot.
Life, she decided, simply wasn't fair.
"And Pillow Biter takes the lead!"
Or hell, maybe it was.
Kitsune leaned forward, watching the television with renewed interest and becoming more and more excited by the moment as she reached into her blouse and extracted several betting tickets - all of the bets placed for a horse that Kitsune had bet on after taking a liking to the name in a drunken frenzy and had immediately regretted (along with the drunken frenzy) the next morning. A horse that was now winning the race. "Pillow Biter has just pulled ahead of Neutered Nik, with Lolly's Fern and Knuckle Shuffle battling it out for third and Tight Brown falling behind to the rear!"
"Come on... come on...", Kitsune mumbled, eyes shining in excitement. Pillow Biter was a 12/1 odds bet - if she won now, she'd have enough cash to make up all of her losses and still make a hefty profit! "COME ON!"
"Pillow Biter is increasing her lead! Lolly's Fern is now pulling alongside Neutered Nik, with Knuckle Shuffle and Tight Brown in fourth and fifth!"
"COME ON!"
"Lolly's Fern has just put on an incredible burst of speed and has pulled alongside Pillow Biter! They're neck and neck!"
"COME ON! COME ON!"
"The finish line is in sight! Lolly's Fern is starting to gain a slight lead!"
"COMEONCOMEONCOMEONCOMEONCOMEON-"
"-we interrupt this scheduled broadcast for a special news bulletin!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
