So, here it is.
The idea started out as a solo-run version of the Brother's Grimm Collaborative Project my brothers and I were working on, because given our schedules and our being on different parts of the country it become difficult to collaborate.
And this snowballed pretty quickly.
Quick-and-dirty: this is an SI, slightly ahead from current events and supposing a terrible tragedy in the family. RL me is highly susceptible to depression, so what better way to make his entire life go BSOD prior to somebody saving the files and booting them up in another machine?
So, there I was,
driving down Interstate Ten, bound for one of the most miserable
places on Earth – Seattle.
Now, don't get me
wrong. Seattle actually has some pretty awesome sights, like the
Space Needle, the ferries of the Puget Sound, the Fremont Troll, the
Pike Place Market, and a more than a few metric tons of art. It had
a lot of the industries going on over there that were right up my
alley. But it rained there. Frequently. Not a lot of actual rainfall, mind you - less than many East Coast cities actually. But the frequency and duration of the rainfalls... Let me put it this way, Seattle usually only see about fifty-eight sunny days out of the year. The rest are covered by an iron curtain of overcast skies.
Seattle was known
as the Emerald City because the green color was from all the moss
that grew there. It was also known to be the leading major
metropolitan area in suicides year after year without fail. I knew
for sure that I was gonna be on anti-depressants within a year.
The thought itself
was so depressing that it made me drowsy, causing me to doze at the
wheel. Not even the Uber Monster energy brew that I finished off not
even ten minutes ago seemed to be helping. I was considering
stopping at the next rest stop when I dozed again, imagining pulling
onto the off-ramp and letting myself blissfully zone out to the tune
of my faithful little truck's engine purr softly while blowing warm
air over my cold–
The sudden jarring
of my truck jolted me right out of my doze as adrenaline began
flooding my system, augmenting the energy supplement I had earlier.
I reacted instinctively – foot off the gas, clutch in, pump the
brakes, keep the wheel under firm control and try to get the truck
back on the shoulder!
Where's the road!?
TREES! AVOID AVOID AVOID! HOUSE! STOOOOP!
My truck was
heavily laden with the back end filled all the way to the top of the
camper shell, and a four-by-eight foot trailer loaded to it's full
capacity as well. But my truck, a well used and well cared for 1998
Mazda B2500 which I had lovingly named 'Scrappy', had front wheel
anti-lock brakes and the rear axle had enough weight on it to really
dig in.
I was shocked when
all I did was just bump against the house with a dull thud.
For a moment, all I
did was sit there and have a moment of BSOD. My limbs shaking I
applied the emergency break, almost forgot to put Scrappy into
neutral before letting off the clutch, and shut the engine off.
Leaving the headlights on, I opened the door and clamored out of
Scrappy. The first thing I checked was how badly damaged the house
was. I wasn't worried about my vehicle because I was driving a truck
– albeit a small one, but still a truck.
Looking around the
front end I saw that I had done nothing more than scuff the paint.
Probably about ten bucks to get the right color of paint and touch it
up. The most troublesome part would be the color matching.
With a huge and
explosive sigh, I then went on to inspect my vehicle, then the
trailer, and finally their respective loads. Scrappy's rear axle,
being equipped with only drum brakes, didn't have ABS like the front
axle did, and so the rear wheels locked when I fire-walled the brake
pedal and had carved furrows into the soft earth of the driveway.
Which was probably my saving grace. So long as you're keeping it in
a straight line, the quickest way to stop in soft earth was to just
floor it.
But how had I wound
up on this driveway? Interstates, even in Texas, did not usually
have residential drives right off the highway itself – that's what
the frontage roads are for. Did I somehow take a highway to heaven
and wound up here?
There was also
something off about this place. I couldn't place my finger on it,
but it sure as hell didn't feel like west Texas. Or even New Mexico.
“Oi! Nan-des'ka?”
I just about jumped
out of my skin. I never heard anyone approaching and the odd pitch
of the voice threw me as well. I snapped around and was confronted
with a child-like figure with a massive, barely organized mess of
pink hair. She was wearing the sort of tired look that only people
woken in the middle of the night by strange travelers would wear.
“Whoah! Jeeeeze,
you startled me there,” I said. I hate being keyed up on
adrenaline like this. I kinda like being on the jittery side, but
not this much. “Ah, sorry about this mess,” I continued lamely.
“Heeeehhhhh?”
said the girl as she leaned in to inspect me more carefully.
That sound,
combined with the odd pitch in her voice raised a flag in my head.
It was a sound I had grown familiar with, and even loved triggering
in the people of Japan.
“Anatawa Nihon o
shitte imas'ka? ” she said, which cinched it for me.
“Ah... Iie,” I
replied. “Choto-choto Nihongo. Very few words.”
“So you are an
American then,” she said in surprisingly clear English that smacked
of something either Brooklyn or Jersey – I could never tell the
difference with those accents. This was getting very weird so my
next question was very much to the point.
“Uhm, pardon my
ignorance, but could you tell me where I'm at, little miss?”
“Sure. You're in
Japan. And if I'm guessing right you were someplace else before
hand.”
“Texas,” I
confirmed. Was this some sort of crazy put-on?
The girl nodded her
head with a smug, satisfied smile. “Well, why don't we see if we
can get you sorted out?”
“Uhm, mind if I
use the toilet first?” I asked. If I really was in Japan, then
this would tell me for sure.
“Sure sure,”
she said breezily. “Go around the side, through the sliding door,
up the stairs and it's the door at the very end of the hall. Can't
miss it. Just don't go stomping around and waking anyone up.”
“Thanks,” I
said as I pocketed my keys and anything else that might jangle. As I
made my way inside the house and up the stairs I couldn't help but
notice that this place seemed insanely familiar to me, but I just
couldn't quite place it.
Just as I reached
the top of the stairs I heard a sound like static and a woman walked
through the wall to my side, just inches from me. I yelped in
surprise, startling her into yelping and punching me in the face.
Stars flashed in my eyes and the next thing I knew I was weightless
and looking up at the timbered ceiling.
I had just enough
time to think to myself, Oh fuck, this is gonna be bad.
My neck hit first,
and a horrible, wrenching pop sounded throughout my head.
Then I felt nothing
more. Just a terrifying numbness that overcame me. I couldn't move.
I was still breathing... but it was so faint.
Oh god... my neck
was broken! Can't move, can't speak, breathing is starting to slow
down... I was going to die in a few minutes and there wasn't anything
I could do!
Feet came pounding
my way – the girl from before.
“Hey! Are you
alright!?” she cried out. “Say something, will you?”
I could only give
her a helpless look.
“Oh hell no!”
she breathed and proceeded into outright crisis mode. “RYOKO!”
she cried out. The woman that startled me before appeared overhead.
Apparently she knew that if whatever happened had this girl that
upset then she should be concerned. In fact, she had an expression
of 'Oh crap, I fucked up this time, didn't I?' on her face.
She made some terse
instructions in Japanese that I had no way of catching with my
limited vocabulary as she opened... some kind of... hole in the air?
And began to rummage through the unseen contents. With a short bark
of success, she removed some unremarkable oblong device that fit
neatly in the palm of her small hand.
“Boy I am so glad
I never throw anything like this out. Hang on, mister, we'll get you
through this.” She then looked to the woman she called Ryoko and
nodded. The woman then gestured and I was somehow levitated up off
the stairs. Before I could really start to wonder how the hell that
was happening, the smaller girl pushed my shirt up and planted the
device at the very bottom of my solar plexus. Suddenly my breathing
picked up.
Right away I knew
that the device was somehow stimulating my diaphragm muscle to keep
working even though it was no longer receiving commands from my
brain. Who the hell are these people?
And now, more were
showing up. A girl with cerulian blue hair and crimson irises.
Another with impossibly long vividly violet hair and equally violet
eyes. A cat... rabbit... thing... A dusky-skinned, blue-eyed blonde
with hair cascading in tight ringlets, and a boy with short-cropped
black hair and brown eyes.
A sudden surge of
questions, imprecations, and explanations, all in Japanese, suddenly
ensued. The messy-maned pink-haired girl had to verbally beat back
the violet-haired one, and seemed to imperiously command the young
man to usher everyone back to their rooms. Reluctantly, they all
left except the tall woman with cyan-hair and amber eyes who
sucker-punched me earlier.
“Okay, now that
the riff-raff are dealt with, that muscle stimulator should keep you
alive for the moment,” said the girl. “Let's get you into my
lab.”
LAB!?!?
Within minutes, the
tiny woman that could only be Washu Hakubi had me on a medical table,
my neck set, and my spinal cord and vertebra swiftly being mended by
the medical nanomachines she had injected me with.
The were no jokes,
no slapstick, no pratfalls, not even any whimsical retorts. Washu
remained professional, alert, and competent throughout the entire
process, and Ryoko simply stood by watching for any sign that she
needed any help.
“I apologize for
my daughter's sudden reaction,” Washu said as she sat back to
relax, wiping what little sweat had accumulated on her brow. “You
should be able to talk now. Give it a shot.”
Tentatively a
muttered a few vowel sounds. Wonder of all wonders, I could talk
again.
“It's okay,” I
croaked. “She saw a strange person in her home in the middle of
the night. What scared me was that she came through the wall. By
the way... is your name Washu-chan?”
“It is,” said
Washu slowly. “Who are you?”
If I could have
shaken my head, I would have. “Nobody,” I said. “Just someone
who's lost in more ways than one.”
“Hey, you got a
name, don't you?” grumped Ryoko. I heard something go thunk in the
background which caused Ryoko to growl indignantly.
I sighed. “She's
got a point. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. We'll get into it
later, but for now, my name is Garrick Grimm.” I froze in
surprise. Where the hell had that come from? “Uh, no, that's not
right. I must have hit my head harder than I though. Really, my
name is Garri-” I froze as the unwanted monicker tried to come out
of my mouth once more.
“Is something
wrong?” asked Washu as she leaned over me with a concerned
expression.
“That's... that's
not my name,” I said in horror. Really, I decided I was going to
try and force it out – strange compulsion be damned, I liked my
name! But the more I tried to think of it, the more it eluded me.
It was like as though my old name had been completely blanked out
from my memory and replaced with something else.
“My name... it's
gone.”
Washu and Ryoko
exchanged horrified looks. They had heard of all kinds of terrible
things being done to a person, but transporting them across
continents and then altering their minds to fit some twisted
scheme... it was the absolute worst sort of crime.
I suddenly felt
Washu's hand lay gently on my head. “Don't worry,” she said
gently. “Garrick Grimm is a good name. Garrick means He That
Rules With A Spear, and Grimm is an ancient surname that means The
Fierce One. Whoever gave that name to you was not thinking lightly
of you.”
“I don't feel
very fierce now,” I muttered. “Just hurt... and so far from
home.”
“Where is your
home anyhow?”
“I was in the
middle of moving when I arrived here, so it doesn't matter really...
but in spirit, my home has always been the City of San Antonio in
Texas.”
Washu nodded.
“Home of the Alamo and one of the most famous Pyrrhic victories of
earth's Modern Age.”
“Pyrrhic
victory?” asked Ryoko.
“A hollow
victory,” I replied. “Named for a general who led a siege
against another city-state. He successfully sacked the city, but his
entire army had been reduced to but a handful of men. In the case of
the Battle of the Alamo, General Santa Anna led about 2,000 men
against the 200 in the fortified mission. After six days, the Alamo
did eventually fall, and all but two of the defenders were tortured
and slain – those two were sent to warn the rest of the Texian Army
that Santa Anna was coming and would not take any prisoners.
However, the battle was a hardship for his army. It was reduced in
effectiveness, and the message brought by the messengers to the
capitol, located in what is now called the City of Houston,
galvanized the entire population. The messengers also warned
everyone they came across, causing everyone to flee to the capitol.
The end result was a massive surge of volunteers for the Texian Army,
and Santa Anna was completely defeated.”
Ryoko made an
appreciative whistle at that. “Sounds like you guys don't put up
with much.”
I smiled. “We've
had a long-standing slogan in my home – 'Don't mess with Texas.'”
Ryoko cackled and Washu shook her head, but she was smiling
regardless.
“Okay you two,”
said Washu. “I can see now that the healing process is going well,
so we're going to put you in a bed and sedate you so you don't move
while you heal – the new tissues being constructed are very
delicate at this stage.”
“Alright then,”
I sighed. “But can someone turn off the headlights in my truck
before they drain the battery? I'd hate to have to ask for a
jumpstart... Oh, and get my cat. He's probably pretty shaken up by
now.”
“A cat?” asked
Washu. “Is he...”
“He's a big,
sweet natured guy... but he's something of a bully with other cats.
If you leave him in the room with me with a litter box, water and
food he'll be okay. He'll just curl up on top of me and go to sleep.
He doesn't even knead his claws on me.”
“That's...
impressive.”
“Not really. He
found out the hard way that I don't like feeling claws in my skin.”
I smiled. “He knows that if he wants my attention he can meow or
even put his paws to my legs... without the claws. I reinforced that
behavior with positive attention.”
Washu chuckled.
“Okay then. So, headlights and cat. Anything else?”
“Nah, not unless
you guys need my truck moved right away.”
“It'll keep.”
So, in short order,
I was placed in a small but comfortable room in Washu's lab, left
with my cat purring deeply at my side, and whacked up on enough
sedatives to knock out a horse. I was, for the moment, content, but
I knew that would not last forever. I was in Tenchi Muyo and here
Murphy ruled with an iron first.
The idea started out as a solo-run version of the Brother's Grimm Collaborative Project my brothers and I were working on, because given our schedules and our being on different parts of the country it become difficult to collaborate.
And this snowballed pretty quickly.
Quick-and-dirty: this is an SI, slightly ahead from current events and supposing a terrible tragedy in the family. RL me is highly susceptible to depression, so what better way to make his entire life go BSOD prior to somebody saving the files and booting them up in another machine?
So, there I was,
driving down Interstate Ten, bound for one of the most miserable
places on Earth – Seattle.
Now, don't get me
wrong. Seattle actually has some pretty awesome sights, like the
Space Needle, the ferries of the Puget Sound, the Fremont Troll, the
Pike Place Market, and a more than a few metric tons of art. It had
a lot of the industries going on over there that were right up my
alley. But it rained there. Frequently. Not a lot of actual rainfall, mind you - less than many East Coast cities actually. But the frequency and duration of the rainfalls... Let me put it this way, Seattle usually only see about fifty-eight sunny days out of the year. The rest are covered by an iron curtain of overcast skies.
Seattle was known
as the Emerald City because the green color was from all the moss
that grew there. It was also known to be the leading major
metropolitan area in suicides year after year without fail. I knew
for sure that I was gonna be on anti-depressants within a year.
The thought itself
was so depressing that it made me drowsy, causing me to doze at the
wheel. Not even the Uber Monster energy brew that I finished off not
even ten minutes ago seemed to be helping. I was considering
stopping at the next rest stop when I dozed again, imagining pulling
onto the off-ramp and letting myself blissfully zone out to the tune
of my faithful little truck's engine purr softly while blowing warm
air over my cold–
The sudden jarring
of my truck jolted me right out of my doze as adrenaline began
flooding my system, augmenting the energy supplement I had earlier.
I reacted instinctively – foot off the gas, clutch in, pump the
brakes, keep the wheel under firm control and try to get the truck
back on the shoulder!
Where's the road!?
TREES! AVOID AVOID AVOID! HOUSE! STOOOOP!
My truck was
heavily laden with the back end filled all the way to the top of the
camper shell, and a four-by-eight foot trailer loaded to it's full
capacity as well. But my truck, a well used and well cared for 1998
Mazda B2500 which I had lovingly named 'Scrappy', had front wheel
anti-lock brakes and the rear axle had enough weight on it to really
dig in.
I was shocked when
all I did was just bump against the house with a dull thud.
For a moment, all I
did was sit there and have a moment of BSOD. My limbs shaking I
applied the emergency break, almost forgot to put Scrappy into
neutral before letting off the clutch, and shut the engine off.
Leaving the headlights on, I opened the door and clamored out of
Scrappy. The first thing I checked was how badly damaged the house
was. I wasn't worried about my vehicle because I was driving a truck
– albeit a small one, but still a truck.
Looking around the
front end I saw that I had done nothing more than scuff the paint.
Probably about ten bucks to get the right color of paint and touch it
up. The most troublesome part would be the color matching.
With a huge and
explosive sigh, I then went on to inspect my vehicle, then the
trailer, and finally their respective loads. Scrappy's rear axle,
being equipped with only drum brakes, didn't have ABS like the front
axle did, and so the rear wheels locked when I fire-walled the brake
pedal and had carved furrows into the soft earth of the driveway.
Which was probably my saving grace. So long as you're keeping it in
a straight line, the quickest way to stop in soft earth was to just
floor it.
But how had I wound
up on this driveway? Interstates, even in Texas, did not usually
have residential drives right off the highway itself – that's what
the frontage roads are for. Did I somehow take a highway to heaven
and wound up here?
There was also
something off about this place. I couldn't place my finger on it,
but it sure as hell didn't feel like west Texas. Or even New Mexico.
“Oi! Nan-des'ka?”
I just about jumped
out of my skin. I never heard anyone approaching and the odd pitch
of the voice threw me as well. I snapped around and was confronted
with a child-like figure with a massive, barely organized mess of
pink hair. She was wearing the sort of tired look that only people
woken in the middle of the night by strange travelers would wear.
“Whoah! Jeeeeze,
you startled me there,” I said. I hate being keyed up on
adrenaline like this. I kinda like being on the jittery side, but
not this much. “Ah, sorry about this mess,” I continued lamely.
“Heeeehhhhh?”
said the girl as she leaned in to inspect me more carefully.
That sound,
combined with the odd pitch in her voice raised a flag in my head.
It was a sound I had grown familiar with, and even loved triggering
in the people of Japan.
“Anatawa Nihon o
shitte imas'ka? ” she said, which cinched it for me.
“Ah... Iie,” I
replied. “Choto-choto Nihongo. Very few words.”
“So you are an
American then,” she said in surprisingly clear English that smacked
of something either Brooklyn or Jersey – I could never tell the
difference with those accents. This was getting very weird so my
next question was very much to the point.
“Uhm, pardon my
ignorance, but could you tell me where I'm at, little miss?”
“Sure. You're in
Japan. And if I'm guessing right you were someplace else before
hand.”
“Texas,” I
confirmed. Was this some sort of crazy put-on?
The girl nodded her
head with a smug, satisfied smile. “Well, why don't we see if we
can get you sorted out?”
“Uhm, mind if I
use the toilet first?” I asked. If I really was in Japan, then
this would tell me for sure.
“Sure sure,”
she said breezily. “Go around the side, through the sliding door,
up the stairs and it's the door at the very end of the hall. Can't
miss it. Just don't go stomping around and waking anyone up.”
“Thanks,” I
said as I pocketed my keys and anything else that might jangle. As I
made my way inside the house and up the stairs I couldn't help but
notice that this place seemed insanely familiar to me, but I just
couldn't quite place it.
Just as I reached
the top of the stairs I heard a sound like static and a woman walked
through the wall to my side, just inches from me. I yelped in
surprise, startling her into yelping and punching me in the face.
Stars flashed in my eyes and the next thing I knew I was weightless
and looking up at the timbered ceiling.
I had just enough
time to think to myself, Oh fuck, this is gonna be bad.
My neck hit first,
and a horrible, wrenching pop sounded throughout my head.
Then I felt nothing
more. Just a terrifying numbness that overcame me. I couldn't move.
I was still breathing... but it was so faint.
Oh god... my neck
was broken! Can't move, can't speak, breathing is starting to slow
down... I was going to die in a few minutes and there wasn't anything
I could do!
Feet came pounding
my way – the girl from before.
“Hey! Are you
alright!?” she cried out. “Say something, will you?”
I could only give
her a helpless look.
“Oh hell no!”
she breathed and proceeded into outright crisis mode. “RYOKO!”
she cried out. The woman that startled me before appeared overhead.
Apparently she knew that if whatever happened had this girl that
upset then she should be concerned. In fact, she had an expression
of 'Oh crap, I fucked up this time, didn't I?' on her face.
She made some terse
instructions in Japanese that I had no way of catching with my
limited vocabulary as she opened... some kind of... hole in the air?
And began to rummage through the unseen contents. With a short bark
of success, she removed some unremarkable oblong device that fit
neatly in the palm of her small hand.
“Boy I am so glad
I never throw anything like this out. Hang on, mister, we'll get you
through this.” She then looked to the woman she called Ryoko and
nodded. The woman then gestured and I was somehow levitated up off
the stairs. Before I could really start to wonder how the hell that
was happening, the smaller girl pushed my shirt up and planted the
device at the very bottom of my solar plexus. Suddenly my breathing
picked up.
Right away I knew
that the device was somehow stimulating my diaphragm muscle to keep
working even though it was no longer receiving commands from my
brain. Who the hell are these people?
And now, more were
showing up. A girl with cerulian blue hair and crimson irises.
Another with impossibly long vividly violet hair and equally violet
eyes. A cat... rabbit... thing... A dusky-skinned, blue-eyed blonde
with hair cascading in tight ringlets, and a boy with short-cropped
black hair and brown eyes.
A sudden surge of
questions, imprecations, and explanations, all in Japanese, suddenly
ensued. The messy-maned pink-haired girl had to verbally beat back
the violet-haired one, and seemed to imperiously command the young
man to usher everyone back to their rooms. Reluctantly, they all
left except the tall woman with cyan-hair and amber eyes who
sucker-punched me earlier.
“Okay, now that
the riff-raff are dealt with, that muscle stimulator should keep you
alive for the moment,” said the girl. “Let's get you into my
lab.”
LAB!?!?
Within minutes, the
tiny woman that could only be Washu Hakubi had me on a medical table,
my neck set, and my spinal cord and vertebra swiftly being mended by
the medical nanomachines she had injected me with.
The were no jokes,
no slapstick, no pratfalls, not even any whimsical retorts. Washu
remained professional, alert, and competent throughout the entire
process, and Ryoko simply stood by watching for any sign that she
needed any help.
“I apologize for
my daughter's sudden reaction,” Washu said as she sat back to
relax, wiping what little sweat had accumulated on her brow. “You
should be able to talk now. Give it a shot.”
Tentatively a
muttered a few vowel sounds. Wonder of all wonders, I could talk
again.
“It's okay,” I
croaked. “She saw a strange person in her home in the middle of
the night. What scared me was that she came through the wall. By
the way... is your name Washu-chan?”
“It is,” said
Washu slowly. “Who are you?”
If I could have
shaken my head, I would have. “Nobody,” I said. “Just someone
who's lost in more ways than one.”
“Hey, you got a
name, don't you?” grumped Ryoko. I heard something go thunk in the
background which caused Ryoko to growl indignantly.
I sighed. “She's
got a point. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. We'll get into it
later, but for now, my name is Garrick Grimm.” I froze in
surprise. Where the hell had that come from? “Uh, no, that's not
right. I must have hit my head harder than I though. Really, my
name is Garri-” I froze as the unwanted monicker tried to come out
of my mouth once more.
“Is something
wrong?” asked Washu as she leaned over me with a concerned
expression.
“That's... that's
not my name,” I said in horror. Really, I decided I was going to
try and force it out – strange compulsion be damned, I liked my
name! But the more I tried to think of it, the more it eluded me.
It was like as though my old name had been completely blanked out
from my memory and replaced with something else.
“My name... it's
gone.”
Washu and Ryoko
exchanged horrified looks. They had heard of all kinds of terrible
things being done to a person, but transporting them across
continents and then altering their minds to fit some twisted
scheme... it was the absolute worst sort of crime.
I suddenly felt
Washu's hand lay gently on my head. “Don't worry,” she said
gently. “Garrick Grimm is a good name. Garrick means He That
Rules With A Spear, and Grimm is an ancient surname that means The
Fierce One. Whoever gave that name to you was not thinking lightly
of you.”
“I don't feel
very fierce now,” I muttered. “Just hurt... and so far from
home.”
“Where is your
home anyhow?”
“I was in the
middle of moving when I arrived here, so it doesn't matter really...
but in spirit, my home has always been the City of San Antonio in
Texas.”
Washu nodded.
“Home of the Alamo and one of the most famous Pyrrhic victories of
earth's Modern Age.”
“Pyrrhic
victory?” asked Ryoko.
“A hollow
victory,” I replied. “Named for a general who led a siege
against another city-state. He successfully sacked the city, but his
entire army had been reduced to but a handful of men. In the case of
the Battle of the Alamo, General Santa Anna led about 2,000 men
against the 200 in the fortified mission. After six days, the Alamo
did eventually fall, and all but two of the defenders were tortured
and slain – those two were sent to warn the rest of the Texian Army
that Santa Anna was coming and would not take any prisoners.
However, the battle was a hardship for his army. It was reduced in
effectiveness, and the message brought by the messengers to the
capitol, located in what is now called the City of Houston,
galvanized the entire population. The messengers also warned
everyone they came across, causing everyone to flee to the capitol.
The end result was a massive surge of volunteers for the Texian Army,
and Santa Anna was completely defeated.”
Ryoko made an
appreciative whistle at that. “Sounds like you guys don't put up
with much.”
I smiled. “We've
had a long-standing slogan in my home – 'Don't mess with Texas.'”
Ryoko cackled and Washu shook her head, but she was smiling
regardless.
“Okay you two,”
said Washu. “I can see now that the healing process is going well,
so we're going to put you in a bed and sedate you so you don't move
while you heal – the new tissues being constructed are very
delicate at this stage.”
“Alright then,”
I sighed. “But can someone turn off the headlights in my truck
before they drain the battery? I'd hate to have to ask for a
jumpstart... Oh, and get my cat. He's probably pretty shaken up by
now.”
“A cat?” asked
Washu. “Is he...”
“He's a big,
sweet natured guy... but he's something of a bully with other cats.
If you leave him in the room with me with a litter box, water and
food he'll be okay. He'll just curl up on top of me and go to sleep.
He doesn't even knead his claws on me.”
“That's...
impressive.”
“Not really. He
found out the hard way that I don't like feeling claws in my skin.”
I smiled. “He knows that if he wants my attention he can meow or
even put his paws to my legs... without the claws. I reinforced that
behavior with positive attention.”
Washu chuckled.
“Okay then. So, headlights and cat. Anything else?”
“Nah, not unless
you guys need my truck moved right away.”
“It'll keep.”
So, in short order,
I was placed in a small but comfortable room in Washu's lab, left
with my cat purring deeply at my side, and whacked up on enough
sedatives to knock out a horse. I was, for the moment, content, but
I knew that would not last forever. I was in Tenchi Muyo and here
Murphy ruled with an iron first.