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Battlefield 1542
By : Dunkelgelb
Category: InuYasha > General
Views: 1935 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
Chapter List
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You watch the world exploding, every single night
Dancing in the sun, a newborn in the light
Brothers and their fathers joining hands and make a chain
The shadow of the Wicker Man is rising up again
-Iron Maiden, The Wicker Man
Battlefield 1542
Chapter I: Spirit World
~Location unknown, 2064 Common Era~
Heaven.
That was a name that conjured up all sorts of outlandish imagery in the minds of many humans on Earth. White, puffy clouds, gleaming, golden gates and spires, huge castles - this is what such people dreamt of when Heaven crossed their mind. They also believed it to be the place they ventured to to receive their just reward for their good deeds in the world of their birth.

Well, they were half right, at least.

Heaven was indeed the destination for the good men and women after they died, but the glamorous visages that were frequently associated with it were nothing more than a romantic's silly, half-baked notions, concocted from a mix of philosophical imagination and a few, lazy,summer afternoons.

"Heaven" was a place in the corporeal realm, a vaunted and storied one, but a place, like any other. It was not some perfect utopia. It was run, like a business, for lack of a less poetic term. Souls entered at one end, were identified, logged, and recorded by a massive otherworldly workforce, its ranks numbering at least 500 million demons, or youkai. Such youkai analyzed each soul and scrutinized its history, sending the paperwork to a behemoth known simply as King Yamma, who in turn stamped his official seal on the final documents, sending their subject to one of three places. Upstanding citizens were ferried to the "Heaven" portion of the afterworld, while the sinful ones were cast down to Hell. The third destination was reserved for the elemental, truly all-star evils of the universe, and it was given a simple name: Purgatory. Whereas souls in Heaven and Hell eventually returned to the living world through reincarnation, those in that horrible dimension never returned, for no amount of Hell's punishment could possibly turn them from their monstrous ways.

King Yamma's administrative compound, a giant, sprawling castle with a tall, multi-floored steeple as a gate, was swamped with both soul and paperwork, as per a usual business day. Demons dressed like mundane office workers and shouting through megaphones guided and directed the endless line of formless spirits through that main gate to Yamma's huge desk, where he stamped their documents and sent them on their way, wherever that might lead them. The stamp relegated to Purgatory lay unused in the bottommost drawer of the giant's desk, gathering dust from long disuse.

Yamma himself was a bull youkai, a taiyoukai, to be exact. He was the absolute most powerful of his type, and his humanoid form, towering above all others at twenty feet, was merely anabridged version of his full-power state. If he transformed into his true bull form, he would easily stand as tall as a healthy brachiosaur. He was powerful, too, able to go head to head with the Inu no Taisho himself in most instances, not that he would consider such a thing, as the resulting battle would probably trash both Heaven and Hell.

He sat in his massive leather chair as usual, wearing a black-and-white pinstripe suit, twisting strands of his thick, black beard around a finger as he stamped away at the forms thatcame his way.

"Going to Heaven." Yamma said, his booming, godlike voice seeming a tad bit bored.

He slammed the correponding stamp handle down onto the table, emblazoning the mark of Yamma in red ink on top of the paper underneath.
"Going to Hell." he said again, this time switching stamps.

"Going to Heaven....going to Heaven....going to Heaven.....going to Hell....going to Hell....going to Heaven....Heaven....Hell....Hell....
....Hell....Hell....Heav....wait, no, Hell."
The Hell stamp had been getting more than its fair share of use over the past week. This, to Yamma's dismay, was due to the chaotic situation on Earth, in a huge nation named Russia. The economic collapse there had flung the entire country into civil war, and a particularly bloody one, at that. In each major city, hungry, unemployed, and angry people by the millions stormed municipal warehouses and stormed out with food......and weapons. The government was hard-liner leftist, and tolerated no action against its law. However, it was convoluted and weighted down by its own bureaucracy, so by the time it got its act together, hundreds of thousands of vintage SKS and AK-47 rifles were in the hands of a disgruntled public.....

The fighting began soon after, pitting heroic rebels against the hopelessly corrupt leftist government. Of course, the conflict was not separated so cleanly black-and-white, but to foreign observers, it was close enough. Nobody felt completely at ease around such an extreme leadership. Incidentally, most of the rebels killed in the fighting went to heaven, while the opposite held true for most of the government forces.

Normally, King Yamma, being such a busy, busy deity, would not have given a petty Earth nation's civil war much thought. This was not because he was apathetic to the situation, quite the opposite applied to him, in fact. The truth was the fact that he simply didn't have the time for it.

That was to change quite soon.

Closing time came for the spirit's halfway house, and another demon, again dressed like a everyday office worker, emerged from the doorway at the top floor of the gate's steeple, holding a cloth-covered gong handle. The accompanying gong, a brass plate with the mark of Yamma stamped on it, stood next to the door. The demon worker raised his hammer, rooted his feetm and struck that giant alarm as hard as he could, the oscillating sound of its report filling the whole building. The demon manning the megaphone then announced the sound's meaning to the endless stream of disembodied spirits.

"Attention, all souls! The Spirit Annex is now closing! No more spirits will be admitted today. We will reopen in twelve hours, and you are to remain here until then" he said, his voice amplified by the contraption he held in his hand.

After he finished speaking, a sweeping, high-pitched groan rose up from each squiggling soul, all of them annoyed by the prospect of hovering in a row on a narrow, celestial catwalk for twelve hours.

When the gong struck, Yamma jolted in his seat and missed the paper he had targeted with his stamp by nearly two feet, imprinting the symbol for heavenly ascent on the table's wood instead. Yamma frowned at this, for this was the kind of ink that nothing erased. It was a super form of permanent, holy permanent. The giant sighed, stamped that last form, then snickered as he moved the outgoing mail box over the red mark that blemished the table. He then set the Heaven and Hell stamps in their ink pool and sat back in his chair, the automotive suspension used to cushion it creaking under the pressure.

Yamma relaxed for a few moments, then leaned back down and opened his top desk drawer, pulling out an enormous cigar, one measuring five feet long and two feet thick. He flipped a switch underneath his desk, and the battery of industrial strength ventilation fans mounted in the ceiling whirred to life, roaring like an old piston-engined bomber from a long-finished air war.

He motioned for his personal cigar lighter, a demon worker armed with a kerosene-fueled flamethrower, to come forward. The short little demon climbed a ladder to get on top of Yamma's desk, and he set the fuel switches on the tank on his back, letting highly flammable kerosene flood into the nozzle of the flamethrower. He pulled out a cigarette lighter from his shirt pocket, lit the pilot light on the flame gun's muzzle, then flipped his gas mask down. Yamma held out his cigar, squinting and leaning his head back to get as much distance between the cigar and his face as possible.

The demon worker pulled the trigger on his weapon, and a long plume of yellow fire shot out from his flamethrower, bathing the tip of Yamma's cigar with its heat. Soon, the massive stogie was alight. Yamma nodded and dismissed his heavily-armed assistant, then leaned back in his chair and took a few puffs of of his cigar, blowing wide smoke circles and watching them disintegrate in the ceiling fans.

The bull youkai mused to himself about the day's developments as he smoked, for the cloud of war that had descended over Russia had also captured his thought. If the rebels won, everything would be great. Reform would sweep the nation and everyone would hopefully live happily ever after. If the government won, however, a world war would become a possibility.

It was no secret that the Russian government was run by the bad kind of Communist. Starting in 1917 CE, Russia was a Communist nation. Seventy years later, it wasn't, and twenty years after that, it was once again, and by then, the leftists weren't taking any chances. They scrapped the standing constitution and wrote a new one, barring all personal liberty and snapping up all of the political power. Their seats of power were firmly cemented, too, as the military sided with them one-hundred percent. The army had fallen into disrepair after the economy collapsed, and was only too willing to help out someone who catered to their wants.

By 2064, Russia, then called the Neo Soviet Union, was once again on the verge of collapse, due in no small part to the governing oligarchy's exorbitant spending on its army. The stock market crashed and the people had had enough, which brought King Yamma to the matter at hand.

A fair few of the United Nations were funneling weapons and supplies to the rebels in secret. Alas, however, paranoid Communists simply cannot be kept in the dark forever, and the only thing they didn't know about the arms shipments was just how the hell the rebels were getting their merchandise. An experimental point-to-point teleporter was the culprit, designed by the infamous Capsule Corporation.

To Yamma, the how was unimportant. The Russians knew that the U.N. was backing the rebels, the United States most prominently. If they were to win the civil war, they would immediately turn their sights onto the U.S. and all of Europe, likely using a nuclear weapon in their anger. Ridiculously, all the bull demon could do was watch and fret over Earth's fate, because Spirit World was barred completely from interfering.

Yamma took one last, long drag off of his cigar then set it in the his sandbox-sized steel ashtray, which had to be specially weighted on one side to counter its unusual payload of tobacco. He switched off the ventilation fans off and stacked neatly all the papers on his desk and put his stamps away, for the work day was done. Just as he scooted his chair back to leave, however, he froze on the spot, as two humanoid forms, one male and one female, appeared out of thin air immediately in front of his desk, on the exact spot where each departed soul received its judgement.

The male was about seven feet tall, with light lavender skin, coarse, flowing white hair, finely-pointed ears, and deep obsidian eyes. He wore robin's-egg-blue pants, a crimson red vest, and a orange sash around his waist. He removed his left middle and index fingers from the center of his forehead and his right hand from the female's shoulder, and gave the surprised King Yamma a concerned frown.

"Kibito-kai! You startled me! What are you doing here?" Yamma asked, leaning over his desk with great interest.

"Your spy has some urgent news" the Kaioshin replied, nodding torward the female to his right.

Yamma looked to the fused Kaioshin's side and looked the woman over with confusion. She was dressed rather like a prostitute, one could say, as she wore glossy red high heels, a tight, glittery, form-fitting, and extremely high-cut dress, one that barely covered her thighs. A black purse hung from one shoulder and a large, pink bow topped her head of long and wavy black hair. A knowing gleam shone in her dark green eyes, and her ruby lips curled upward slightly, quivering with undisclosed knowledge.

The giant bull demon scratched a horn and shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know her. Are you trying to tell me something, Kib? I'm a very busy demon, and I don't have time for this kind of thing."

Kibito-kai jolted at that statement and held up his arms in apology, while the black-haired woman simply huffed and pouted angrily. Yamma looked between them, expecting some kind of answer, when he saw something large, brown, and fluffy twitching behind the woman's back. It was a tail. A ridiculous realization struck the king's brain like a stray bullet.

"Oh, you must be kidding me," Yamma groaned, his already basslike voice low and dejected as he slumped into his chair, cradling his head in one hand, "I think you're getting a little bit too creative with your methods of infiltration, Recon Rodent."

The woman pulled lightly on her tail and jumped a few feet into the air, exploding into a large puff of white smoke. Out of it fell a copper-haired, dark-green eyed male, decked out in a black woolen waistcoat and black woolen pants, a pair of high-powered night-vision goggles riding up on his forehead while a compact assault rifle hung from his neck by a canvas sling.

"Who are you calling a rodent? I'm a fox demon, thank you very much!" Shippo shouted angrily, his voice still a bit high-pitched, even in his youkai adulthood, "But don't worry, I didn't let anybody touch me like that."

"I think you had better tell him about what you found, Shippo" Kibito-kai suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah."

Shippo leapt onto Yamma's desk and unslung his backpack, zipping it open and rifling through its contents. After moving aside an armor vest and a few rifle magazines, some loaded and some unloaded, he withdrew a manilla folder, one lettered in Cyrillic. He undid the clasp that held it together, opened it, and held it up to King Yamma.

"What's this?" Yamma asked, slipping on his reading glasses while holding the open file in his palm.

"It's why the Russian economy fell apart........their newest weapon. Capsule Corporation is manufacturing new jinzouningen for them," Shippo answered.

Yamma gave Shippo an uncertain glance, then peered down at the sheets of paper he had been handed. To his horror, the fox-demon was not lying. Blueprints, technical schematics, experimental reports, and business memos - this is what lay inside the folder, and they all described what might be the most powerful weapon ever devised by man.

A color photograph of the completed product fell out of the folder and onto Yamma's desk. In it, three smiling men in white labcoats stood around an opened, coffin-like stasis pod made out of galvanized aluminum. It's occupant lay unconscious inside it, dressed in a green coat, black pants, boots, and shirt, topped by a vest of olive-drab body armor. Chills ran up and down Yamma's spine when he peered upon the weapon's face.

Android Seventeen.

King Yamma sat motionless. Capsule had gone off and made yet another one of those damned, ridiculously powerful androids, and sold it to none other than the Russian Army. Yamma knew that when ambitious militaries get a hold of powerful weaponry, the bloodiest of wars start.

"How is this possible?" Yamma asked, looking between Shippo and the Kaioshin.

"Goku killed Super Android Seventeen, but he didn't completely destroy him. A few pieces were left, a hand here, a foot there, a and few sections of his spinal column. Capsule Corporation found these pieces and made a clone using the stem cells from the spinal fluid," Kibito-kai explained.

"How powerful is the clone?" Yamma pushed.

"Capsule couldn't make a perfect copy, due to the lack of base material, but they have made a clone that is at least half as strong as the original."

The bull demon's jaw tightened audibly and he sank back into his chair. Even at Super Saiyan Four, Goku couldn't kill Super Seventeen outright. He had to get creative with his tactics. Unfortunately, Goku disappeared shortly after killing the last Shadow Dragon, and hadn't been seen for the sixty years that followed. Earth couldn't count on that saiyan this time around. Furthermore, Vegeta and most of the remaining members of the Earth Defense Force had passed away, and since they died of natual causes, their souls entered into the five-hundred-year long reincarnation circuit. Reaching them was impossible. Goku Jr. and Vegeta Jr. were the only of their descendants that possessed enough of their ancestral blood to reach the form of Super Saiyan, but it was heavily diluted with human blood. They were not strong enough to stop this new android.

Shippo didn't wait for Yamma to think up a new question.

"Sir, there's really only one thing that the Russians could be planning," the kitsune said.

"Conquest," Yamma concluded.

Shippo and Kibito-kai nodded in unison and hung their heads in dejection, the potentially bleak future already worrying them. They looked up when Yamma grunted with intrigue, sitting back while holding his chin in thought. The bull-demon stared off to an empty wall to his right, pondering a possible solution to the dilemma.

"Got an idea, sir?" Shippo asked, scratching the back of his head.

"Maybe. Since we can't call up the EDF or send our own forces, we can't kill Seventeen. I wonder, can we subdue him or turn him off, like Gero did with that remote control of his?"

Shippo pondered the idea for a moment, reaching for Seventeen's design schematics. After reviewing it for a second, he shook his head.

"I don't think we can. This android really isn't an android at all; he's entirely organic, and therefore, close to human" Shippo said, to Yamma's dismay.

"Well, how are they planning to control him, then?" the tai-youkai asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"It looks like there's a transistor circuit that shorts out the consciousness center of the android's brain, but leaves everything else intact, like the motor skills and higher reasoning functions," Shippo replied, flipping through a few more pages, "They can order him around without question that way."

"So....he's not sentient?" Kibito-kai added.
"I suppose not, no," Shippo confirmed.
The Kaioshin sat down on the edge of Yamma's desk, locking himself into a train of thought that might yield a solution. After twiddling his thumbs for a moment, he turned to the bull behind him.

"I've got an idea," he said.

"Oh?" Yamma said with great interest, as the Kaioshins usually yielded creative and functional answers.

"If the new android isn't sentient, then by the technical definitions of Spirtual Law, it doesn't have a soul," the Kaioshin explained.

"So? What of it?" Yamma posed.

"So.....if the android doesn't have a soul, then his body is free space."

Shippo's jungle-green eyes narrowed and his lips turned upward into a knowing smile.

"Up for grabs and fair game, you mean," the kitsune said, understanding where Kib was going.

"Fair game for what?" Yamma asked, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

Kib's answer was simple.

"Possession."
- To be continued -
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Battlefield 1542	By : Dunkelgelb Category: InuYasha > General Views: 1935 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Battlefield 1542