A Fan Fic - Mother

[Mechadon]

Mother

Early morning in Little Tokyo. Bad Bird drags himself into the Pizza Cat, looking totally defeated in exhaustion. The restaurant's four regulars look on with worried glances. Bad Bird pulls up a chair, places a tabloid news-scroll on the table in front of him, rests his head on folded arms, and begins to cry.

Nobody says a word. Only Polly dares to move forward to console the distressed crow. She moves to sit next to him but hesitates. Instead, she chances a glance at the headline on the news-scroll. The ink on the scroll was still fresh, having been acquired immediately after its printing. The headline read: Former Ninja Crow leader repels violent skirmish between factions. Polly puts her hand to her mouth just as she reads a second accompanying headline: Store owner, caught in the middle, rescued from fire; escapes with severe burns.

Bad Bird lifts his head, and strains to speak, his voice cracking just above a whisper, "They lost their way." His first words being somewhat cryptic, causes Polly to think back, to try to piece together what he meant by it.

Immediately after the comet incident, the Ninja Crows were deprived of their leadership. This meant no more schemes, no more hideous robotic contraptions. Many had left the clan, but a core group re-organized and shortly appointed a new leader. In the month following, they had attempted a few last raids on the city with the leftover robots still collecting dust from long abandoned operations. They focused their attacks on core targets like the Pizza Cats and the Palace grounds with all-or-nothing engagements. When those failed, the Ninja Crows had fallen to a lower tier of criminal operation which caused a dispute over the new leadership to follow. The clan split up into many, each claiming to be the rightfully authentic Ninja Crow clan. Currently, the ninja crows operate like territorial gangs, some even going as far as to recruit non-crows as members just to keep their numbers up. Their activity is too small and too quick for the Pizza Cats to effectively handle, and best left to localized authorities to manage. Except for Bad Bird, who had made a personal effort to keep track of their activity and help where he could.

Bad Bird clears his throat to address Polly. "I understand how difficult it is for you to make a distinction between what's happening now and what we used to do in the past." Polly, immediately anticipating where his dialogue is leading, sits down and puts her arm around Bad Bird. "Yes, we were the bad guys; we destroyed things, we hurt people, we ruined the lives of innocents. But I taught them discipline. I taught them respect and honour. My crows weren't the brightest of criminals, but they understood. What I saw this morning was purely savagery. They're in it for the thrill, not for any greater purpose. They fight for the right to be named Ninja Crows only for the fear it instills in others, yet none of them have been taught what it really means to be one. They have no respect for the armour that is passed on to them. The history and tradition embodied in their garments is something I still have great respect for." Bad Bird takes the news scroll and wrings it between his claws, "and they treat the suits like rags. Dirty, uneven, parts missing, BACKWARDS. No they don't care. Just like they didn't care about that store-front or the woman tending it. She was just in the way; part of the territory they tried to mark for themselves."

Polly moves her arm further to his left shoulder and places her free hand on his right shoulder, "Birdy, you know you shouldn't blame yourself for any of this; none of us blame you." Bad Bird, though turned good, still allows others to refer to him as they were accustomed to, but to Polly it didn't feel right. By way of example from Carla, she had made a habit of referring to him as "Birdy", of course omitting the tone of affection that Carla used.

Speedy pulls up a chair in front of Bad Bird, lowering his head to address him with a smile, "You know, the honour of the Ninja Crows still exists." Bad Bird lifts his head to look at Speedy in question. "It exists with the crows who you convinced to see the light; the ones that decided to put down their swords and live with their families again." Speedy, can tell that his words had worked on the crow, as Bad Bird closes his eyes and takes in a long slow breath of relief. Then he opens his eyes, with a grin on his face, "Thanks, I needed to hear that." Speedy nods, "Any time, bro."

Just then, the always docile and reserved, Carla, passes through the Pizza Cat's entrance. Polly self-consciously removes her arm from Bad Bird's shoulder, not wanting Carla to get the wrong idea from her. However, Carla doesn't seem to notice or care. She scoots up to Bad Bird, as he stands and spins to give her a hug, "I read about what you did, that was very heroic of you." Bad Bird holds her out by her shoulders, "I'm sorry, you must have been wondering where I was, afterward." Carla shakes her head, "Don't be, I knew I could find you here; I'm just glad you're alright."

“I’ve had just about enough of this.” The comment came from Guido, still standing over by the counter, “The big-time baddies may be gone, but it’s clear we still got huge trouble on the streets of Little Tokyo. It’s our inactivity that gives these ninja rats the idea that they can do all that they please, as long as they stay under our radar.” Francine gasps, looking insulted, “but I re-adjusted the antenna array just this weekend.” Guido assures her with a playful shove from over the counter, “I didn’t mean literally.” He turns back to the rest, “Look, my point is, we need to be getting back into the game. We can do things differently now.” He gestures in regard to the restaurant, “Everyone knows that we run this joint, and that we do a little crime-fighting on the side. Now that we don’t have to worry about secrecy anymore, we can have a little more…” Guido emphasizes by stretching his arms up and arching his back,  “…flexibility in our operations.”

At this point, Polly speaks up. “We owe it to Birdy here for taking his time to pick up our slack. What do you say? Speedy? Guido? You wanna go out to help Bad Bird on patrol this evening?”

Francine coughs for attention “Yes, and while you’re all out following every little lead on those hooligans, I don’t have my best employees on hand. I still got a pizza shop to run, remember?” Polly stands, “Francine, there are bigger priorities than keeping the bottom line here.” Francine loses her temper, “You think I’m an IDIOT!!? If this place goes under, you won’t have headquarters to return to!!!” Polly crosses her arms, “Then we’ll stay on Palace grounds; Big Al’s got a pretty spacious pad, you know.”

“Alright, girls, calm down.” Speedy stands up, waving his arms, trying to keep a modest and neutral face, “Francine, hear us out, by all means, you can hire additional staff, and we wouldn’t mind taking a bit off our pay. Right guys?” Speedy gets an immediate confirmation from Polly, but Guido hesitates, though after a deep scolding glare from Polly, “Oh, yah sure. We all gotta make sacrifices if we want to succeed in this.” Francine pauses in consideration, “Fine, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll check on the Rescue Team while I’m at it; see if they want in on it.” Speedy grabs her by the shoulders and kisses her on the cheek, “Thank you so much Francine; you’re the best boss we could ask for.” Francine, pulls away in feigned disgust, “Ew, get off Casanova.” She wipes the spot on her cheek, “Hasn’t Polly told you, you drool when you kiss?” Polly walks away with a smirk, “She has a point.” Speedy chases after her, “Hey, I do not.”

---

Polly stands on the roof of Carla and Bad Bird's shop from across the street. Though not quite evening yet, the sun begins dipping into her forward looking view of Little Tokyo. Speedy gracefully lands on the roof behind her. Polly turns to see his armour more brightly polished than she'd ever seen it, with a crystal-clear wide angle refection of the city on the curve of his helmet. Their eyes lock as Speedy steps forward, taking her hands within his own. Polly leans in for a long kiss. She pulls out to appraise their armour, "It's been way too long since we've had an excuse to suit up." She chuckles in that squeaky laugh that everyone knows her for, "I'm so excited."

Bad Bird and Guido land on either side of the two. Bad Bird hands both of them a few surveillance devices, "You two ready to go?" Speedy grins, "Ready when you are." With that, the team of four head off, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, into the city.

[Romero Anchovy]

dang...your right...i do.

[Blackcat]

Carla la italiana, Carla la italiana, Carla la italianaaaa... sorry is a song in spanish

Awesome fanfic by the way, not like the lame stuff I have made this people eat for years...

[Mechadon]

“No really, I swear they’re just garden tools,” is all that a bewildered crocodilian dealer is able to croak out with his face pressed flat against a bamboo fence. This fence encloses the back yard of his junk repair shop. Guido presses his shoulder further into the dealer’s back, “Garden tools? Now I really have heard every excuse from you guys.” Guido ties the croc’s arms behind his back, “Say, Polly, remember that rose garden you grew behind the restaurant?” Polly, standing arms crossed and on guard at the back doorway to the junk shop, shoots a sly grin toward Guido, “You mean, the one you and Speedy decided to run a Slip-and-Slide through?” She is gratified by the surprised look on Guido’s face as he sits the dealer down on the ground; she continues with a defiant stare as if to say Thought I wouldn’t bring that up at a time like this, didn’t you? Guido swallows nervously, “Yes, that one.” Polly decides to allow Guido to get to his point, “Yah, I remember it.” Guido picks up an unusual metal object off a near-by workbench, “Remember needing one of these?” Guido is holding up a lead pipe with a buzz-saw soldered onto the end. Polly, gazing up at the ever darkening sky, doesn’t even glance at the object in Guido’s hands, “Nope.” She knows the dealer’s entire set up is bullshit. True, they were standing in a garden at the back of the shop, but this was only coincidental to the dealer’s quickly fabricated claims. As Polly observed, they were standing amongst rows of long-dead and shriveled opium poppies. They had not been tended to since opium trade had been legalized. Opium had been illegal in Little Tokyo, and the man who kept it that way for years was none other than The Big Cheese. He knew very well that the Ninja Crows would have held a distinct monopoly on opium on the black market. This seedy gentleman they were in the process of arresting had obviously been growing the opium for the Ninja Crows in exchange for “protection”. Legalization after Big Cheese’s fall had collapsed his establishment. His new means of staying useful to the remnant ninja crow gangs, must have been to fabricate these crude weapons for them. Guess they don’t have enough swords to go around, Polly thinks to herself. She tunes up a radio piece in her helmet to contact Bad Bird, “Hey, Birdy, keep an eye out, we got these punks running around with some nasty hardware.” The crocodilian shouts a retort from across the garden, “You don’t understand, I’m an inventor; these are just prototypes, I’m just experimenting.” Guido cuts him off, “Pipe down, will yah; you’ll have plenty of time to explain it to the Palace Guard.” Polly moves into the shop to eliminate the distraction. Bad Bird calls back in a hurried tone, “Yah, I can see that; I’ve got two groups converging on each other at the fishing docks, whatever is supposed to be happening today is going down right now, so get your furry tails over here.” Polly is already on her way back into the yard, “Right, we’re on our way.” She shouts out to her blue armored companion, “Guido, we gotta move now.”

[Mechadon]

The usual smell of fish and sea salt, though more of a delight for his feline companions, still would have been a welcome return for Bad Bird as the toxic fumes of burning plastic invades his senses. From his perch atop a wooden loading crane, he had observed as a large group of armour-clad crows vociferously descended on a boardwalk patio and chased out the previously enamoured couples trying to enjoy the evening. The crows had knocked over all the plastic tables and standing umbrellas, setting them all ablaze. Bad Bird knows that this particular group of crows is looking to settle their score with the other gang from the brawl he had broken up in the early morning. The latter group did not wear the Ninja Crow armour, and would be blended in with the surrounding populace, until the armoured crows declared their own presence. Such is the purpose of setting the fires.

The response is immediate. Looking over the boroughs surrounding the docks, Bad Bird notices anomalous shifts in crowd movements in the streets. Most is from on-lookers perplexed by the rising smoke, but bit-by-bit tiny specks of individuals can be seen breaking off from the crowd, converging, and heading toward the smoke in determined haste. Bad Bird jumps down from the crane to circle around closer to the action, making sure to still remain on the fringes of the scene. He leaps from roof to roof until he is on the opposite side of the open square. Bad Bird notices the in-coming group entering a narrow alley between the two shops ahead of him; none are moving out the other side.  He moves up as quietly as he can, and peers over.

This gang still held a majority of crows but also a mix of other animals as well; altogether just a bunch of young punks. They had peeled off their day-ware to reveal loose T-shirts and wife-beaters underneath; all with the winged skull insignia spray-painted on the front.  Bad Bird can over-hear a few whining about getting their hands on some weapons, drawing him to see that none of them had any swords in their possession. A grin cuts across Bad Bird’s beak as he recalls covincing the Ninja Crow’s best sword-smiths into retiring along with him. The crows awaiting this sorry bunch had, in no doubt, reserved what was left of the swords for themselves. Almost in answer to their complaints, a new group of crows pull up in a mini truck just barely small enough to back into the alleyway. The passenger leans out of the cabin and with a quick flutter of his wings, jumps onto the load-bed and pulls off a tarp, revealing a pile of the most barbaric of weaponry Bad Bird had ever seen; lawn-mower blades, metal rake heads,  garden-hoes, kitchen knives, scythes, buzz saws, hack-saws, cork-screws, hammers, scissors, cheese-graters, shovels, wooden beams, lead pipes, broom handles, and lengths chain, all assembled in every horrific combination imaginable. The gang storms the truck, not even waiting for the tail-gate to be pulled open before they leap onto to the pile. It isn’t long before arguments erupt over who gets what. The few that find their weapon of choice stumble away from the pile, swinging their new toys haphazardly.

Look at that, Bad Bird thinks to himself, probably more likely to hurt themselves than anyone else. His amusement is cut short by a sight that makes his stomach sink. One individual, weapon extended out by one arm, does a clumsy pirouette out the other end of the alley and onto the open boardwalk. His nearby cohorts howl in delight and follow out behind him in confident stride. Bad Bird’s eyes dart back to the truck where the majority of the gang is still picking through the weapons. He closes his eyes in stunned disbelief, absolutely no coordination. It looks to Bad Bird like these guys have no intent on regrouping or forming any plan of attack. He examines the faintly lit sky, thinking that any sensible party would have at least waited for full sundown to take any action. No, once they had their tools of destruction, it was every man for himself to add their special brand of chaos to the fray; Bad Bird could see that now. The way this group of deviants would have it; their confrontation with the other crows would happen sooner than later. Bad Bird moves away from the rooftop edge, and stealthily drops down the opposite side onto one of the few proper road ways into the boardwalk square.

Now with a building between him and the gang, Bad Bird can call in the Pizza Cats for their support without risk of drawing attention. To his fortune, his helmet buzzes with an incoming call; it’s Polly, “hey, Birdy, keep an eye out, we got these punks running around with some nasty hardware.” Bad Bird leans out to see the T-shirted punks taunting the armoured crows, and then the latter moving out of the burning tables to meet their challenge. He runs in a low crouch and throws his back against a box stocked full of ice and salmon. In a soft tone he copies with his own addition to the situation, “Yah, I can see that; I’ve got two groups converging on each other at the fishing docks, whatever is supposed to be happening today is going down right now, so get your furry tails over here.” Polly affirms her understanding, “Right, we’re on our way.” Bad Bird peers around the corner of the box, his eyes darting amidst the action unfolding in front of him. He reaches for the scabbard slung across his back and draws his sword.

[Mechadon]

The two gangs swarm together. Bad Bird figures if he doesn’t move in soon, this can all end badly even before the Pizza Cats arrive. He goes into the brawl quickly and quietly, laying low and weaving his way around sparing pairs; too raptly engaged in combat to notice Bad Bird moving through them. He is intent on making his way toward the center of the crowd, where he sees more seasoned fighters having at it. Bad Bird hopes to neutralize the more prominent threats first, before any tragic inflictions can occur.

As he progresses, the spaces between which he can squeeze through become fewer, smaller, and far-removed. As he chances upon these openings, he is forced to scramble through almost on all fours, pulling himself forward with his free arm while still keeping his sword at the ready with the other. Of the armoured crows, he is now able to make out familiar faces from when he commanded the Ninja Crows.  He comes upon a solid unmoving wall of bodies. Just on the other side, Bad Bird spots a prize target; a subordinate from his days of leadership; an officer formerly known as Spikey. Though, subordinate is hardly the word Bad Bird would use to describe him, particularly for being the most undermining of his authority. Yet, Jerry Attric had insisted that he be kept in his position, attesting to his ability to outsmart the palace guards. Spikey had always proven himself an irreplaceable asset when it came to sneaking Ninja Crows past the watch of imperial security.  Among his officers, he had earned the moniker “Spikey” from the way the feathers on his head stood up whenever he removed his helmet. But now one might mistakenly correlate the moniker to the disgraceful modification of the Ninja Crow armour that Bad Bird could see before him. He had welded iron spikes on his helmet.

[Mechadon]

The modifications Spikey had made to his armour, under Bad Bird’s scrutiny, served no other purpose than to exaggerate his image. Bad Bird quietly relished at Spikey’s attempt to portray himself as a brute. Spikey was never the macho type, not even close; he was a snake. He was never one for confrontation; always preferred to slip by his opposition, or stab them in the back. Now here he is trying to look tough among the amateurs. At the moment, Bad Bird would give anything to get in there with Spikey and teach him a few things he will never forget, but his momentum through the crowd ends at this last wall of bodies.

A single plain-clothed crow is forced out of the tight melee and spins around to face Bad Bird. His eyes widen in recognition and turns to alert the others, but Bad Bird is already behind him, pulling him into a sleeper hold. Within five seconds, the young crow is out cold and Bad Bird lowers him to the ground. This stands as a reminder to Bad Bird; he is pushing his luck for remaining unnoticed. He pushes through the gap left by the single crow. Spikey is nowhere to be found on the on the other side. Bad Bird spins around looking for him. Instead, he comes face to face with a leering badger carrying a machete. He bares his teeth, “Guess I’m not the only one look’n for a friendly scrap with Spike. You’ll have to do for now.” The badger charges Bad Bird with his blade raised high. Bad Bird snatches the arm out of the air and pulls him into a punch to the stomach. The badger is winded and falls to the ground in pain. “Crikey, mate, you didn’t have to hit so hard.”  Bad Bird once again tries peering over the crowd for Spikey, but his focus is off; something about what the badger just said causes him to notice an awkward way the crowd is fighting: Mostly grappling, pushing, and shoving. Every swipe with a weapon is a swing and a miss. Just swinging and dodging.

It becomes clear that some have noticed the two fallen fighters as the crowd loosens up from around them. The barrier of gangsters that Bad Bird pushed through is now dissolved, leaving a wider open area around him.  A few more fighters look inward at Bad Bird and jump him. Some are already announcing his presence. A surprising number are breaking off their quarrels to fight Bad Bird. This is when Bad Bird notices a T-shirted crow gives way to an armoured one. This minion comes at him with a smile, “Hey, boss, long time no s--,” He grabs this crow and throws him far into the crowd and a whole bunch of T-Shirts help him back to his feet.

All eyes are on him. This is all a ruse. Every fighter converges on him. The more seasoned fighters move up front, the younger ones move out of the crowd.

[Blackcat]

Crow power!

I still like this fanfic, good job!