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Author Topic: MR War Arc: MR Sentai Revival!  (Read 8275 times)

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Offline NO1SY

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MR War Arc: MR Sentai Revival!
« on: January 20, 2021, 07:56:32 PM »
Hello everybody!

I wanted my first post of 2021 to be a piece of writing, so here we go, continuing with some MR Canon side stories - this time about the revival of the Sentai. I promise that this will not be a long series.

Many thanks to Lego and Coryn for all the help in getting my head around all the Sentai related Canon, started by Litt all those years ago, so that I can build on it going forwards. I hope you all enjoy. :biggrin:



MR SENTAI REVIVAL!


CHAPTER 1: DEAL WITH THE BEAST
Deal with the Beast

The night was young but the sky was always dark in this part of the Net. It was the kind of place that, no matter the gait of one’s step, forced you to feel as though you were skulking. It was enough to make a man’s skin crawl. But Major Narcissus was not above such places. After all, he was a man of practicality, and sometimes it was practical to wade through the filth if it meant that you won in the end. Muck or no muck, he marched with perfect military precision, and if someone dared accuse him of skulking then he’d rip out their throat (because he was and it would not do to leave witnesses).
      The location was unassuming; a gaudy neon light show framing the large open doors, belching out the tumbling digital chimes of rolling slots. Specifically, this was the one-hundred and first best casino on the Net. Just competitive enough to draw in semi-noteworthy clientele, but not breaking into any “Top 100” lists. Just comfortable enough whilst still maintaining an air of sleaze. Cooking the odds and programming the dopamine just enough to look legitimate. They even went so far as to stage a pay-dispute class action lawsuit against themselves so as not to be left out among their peers. No doubt their forward operating base in MangaRaiders City would be equally innocuous, easily escaping any notice by patrols. Major Narcissus was almost impressed. The average 4Kids acolyte, bless them, lacked the imagination required to see through an illusion so overtly on the nose as this.
      It was all a front of course. Whilst more successful casino sites were counting the pennies made from their high-rollers, the Clan were raking in the real credit through the one thing that really sells on the Net: Information. But, as much as Major Narcissus appreciated such a commodity (primarily in the form of the most convincing blackmail leverage or devastating military counter-intelligence), tonight he sought the Net-wide crime syndicate to procure the other thing that they were known for: Their army.
      Major Narcissus strode forth into the hazy warren of the gamblers’ den with purpose. It was designed, as any casino worth its salt, to always lead you to another machine or table if you took a turn away from the one you were at, to always point you inwards away from the exit, to swallow you up and feed you through a digestive tract for your wallet; but if you just walked straight… He stood at ease with his hands clasped behind his back as the concierge pressed the button to the elevator in the lobby at the back.
      An annoyingly pleasant jingle played as he ascended, first past the conference room floors, then past the general office floors, then into the many layers of hotel suites. There was nothing particularly discerning about the 18th floor; it was packed with perfectly serviceable suites just as any of the others were. Major Narcissus looked down to the small leaflet containing the room key-card he had been provided. It had “1859” engraved in gold into the matte-black paper. He ambled through the plushly carpeted corridor, admiring the large, polished mirror framed ornately in real gold at the passage’s end, and running his fingers along the coarse quality of the chic wallpaper. The façade was so good because it was real, and the audacity of it he found marvelous. He toppled a perfectly arranged vase off of its stand, half hoping that it would be the thing to cause such a robust house of cards to collapse. It thudded mutely on the carpet without even a crack.
      With a singular, swift stomp it shattered into pieces anyway.
      The door was roughly two-thirds of the way to the end of the corridor, one amongst many. Not positioned at the back of the building, or in a corner, or particularly central either. Major Narcissus presented his key-card to the lock and was rewarded with a little green light and the satisfying sound of the automatic latch releasing. But what greeted him on the other side was not a fresh hotel room. The stainless steel of an elevator door slid open unceremoniously and he stepped inside. He stood, centered, and ignored the lurch of his insides as the elevator began its descent. There was no music this time.
      The journey down took almost twice as long as the journey up, for it brought him as deep once again as he had risen. No doubt that the operation The Clan ran here spanned many layers below the surface; the real offices for their call centers, message designers, data analysts, brokers; the offices of their infamous Phishing Trip Agent; and the barracks for their army of field agents, the Spam Ninjas. If he was lucky he may even lay eyes on one of the “nests”. The strange creatures grew in and hatched fully formed, clothing and all, from large, metallic eggs fed by grotesque blue roots. The breeding facility here was sure to be vast; a sight that was sure to be as stomach turning as it would be inspirational for the military mind. However, disappointingly, as Major Narcissus alighted the elevator, all that was on display for him was a vast and dark warehouse space, in the center of which a spotlight shone down upon an ornately carved wooden desk flanked either side by two red velvet, armless chairs with legs to match the desk. It was still a good two-hundred paces away.
      The clip of his boots rang like gunshots across the space as he casually, but purposefully, made his way. When he reached within ten paces, a shadow stirred from the dark on the other side of the desk, materializing into a woman as she stepped into the light at precisely the moment that Major Narcissus did, so that they both took their seats synchronously. She was dressed elegantly in a fitted, high-collared, black dress and matching buttoned blazer. The dress split to reveal her well-toned left thigh, which she had subsequently crossed. Her dark hair was expertly and pristinely pinned into a bun. Only a few very well covered lines on her face, and at the corners of her dispassionate eyes, betrayed age on the she-dragon. She was indeed fierce, one of the twelve leaders of the notorious crime syndicate, holding, quite deservedly, the title of Dragon. To anyone outside of the Clan, she was known as Auntie or “Oba-san”. She presided over clan territory in a sector of the Net that encompassed MangaRaiders, and thus was Major Narcissus’ target for parley.
      “The Lost Chorus is grateful for your hospitality Oba-san.” After a slight bow of the head he motioned at the surrounding gloom with his eyes, “love what you’ve done with the place.” He let a well practiced smile veil his face.
      The matriarch of the Clan put on a smile of her own, but she couldn’t hide the edge of genuine pride within it from him. She evidently felt quite confident in this space, proud of her operation. After a few more boring moments, she decided to grace him with a response. “What place?” Major Narcissus could only grin at that. The moment he stepped foot within the building above, her peons had probably begun packing and clearing away every modicum of evidence that there was ever a base hidden here to begin with; ready to cast off such a perfectly constructed cover without shedding a tear. Shame. It would take some small amount of effort to locate their new hive. “Shall we dispense with the pleasantries, Major? I hear that you are a man of action, and business, no?”
      “Of course, esteemed matriarch. No doubt you are aware that the Lost Chorus, in the name of 4Kids, has conquered the once deviant city of MangaRaiders.” A microscopic twitch of her eyebrow let slip her thinly masked envy. “All but a few of the miscreants have been forced into submission, but therein lies the problem. The rebels are like tiny spiders, scuttling around and weaving fragile webs in a commendable, yet futile, fight to hold back our tightening fist.” He waved the notion away, “they will ultimately not be able to divert our... righteous path. However, that does not mean that they should be ignored. Among them, there are a small number that have stolen access to something most important. Something that could become quite the problem for all if left in their hands. I believe you are quite familiar with the group? These so-called ‘Sentai Raiders’?” At this the Dragon could not contain her sneer.
      He continued, “What... concerns us is that, with all efforts focused on securing the site and ensuring the productive obedience of the populace, the Lost Chorus just does not have the time nor man-power to spare on pinning these vexatious varmints down. Their movements appear impossible, seen at one moment somewhere in the city only to pop-up moments later in a completely different quadrant. Their frankly ridiculous armor obscures their identities and, although we have been successful in suppressing knowledge of their exploits from spreading thus far, there is much risk in letting the already quelled populace find out about them. They are an elusive problem, and it seems not just for us; it would appear that they leave a trail of ninja bodies in their wake.”
      Major Narcissus let the statement hang in the stale air, hoping that he was pushing enough buttons. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the fine, lacquered desk. Steepling his fingers, he pushed further.
      “Now, I would never suggest that Oba-san would have sent operatives into a zone under Lost Chorus occupation, after all, any old amateur can grow up a few thugs in black wraps these days.” That placed a subtle sheen of perspiration on her brow. “But what if the city did not have to remain closed to the Clan?” Now, would she put two and two together? Move on the opportunity presented? Her response was slow and careful.
      “Their voice is small but strong, not easy to remove.”
      Major Narcissus stifled a sigh. It seemed that the Clan’s survival was more a product of timidity than of creativity. The casino front had been so promising but now felt infinitely less impressive. “Oba-san, Oba-san, I understand. You did not become so successful through rash decisions. But we find ourselves at a rare moment, where the Raiders can no longer deny us. They are few, we are many. They are weakened, whilst we are stronger than ever. The Lost Chorus has set the snare and tied the noose, all that is required now is a little moxie and some necks for hanging.”  Leaning back in his chair he playfully hummed the tune to “Itsy, bitsy spider”, watching as the cogs turned in the Dragon’s mind.
      “So…” she said finally as the pieces clicked into place, “you wish for us to flush them out?” Moxie indeed...
      “With all due respect, Oba-san, these… cretins hoard the key to accessing one of the greatest powers on the Net. This is not a time for half-measures. Flush? No. What I wish for is a flood!” Major Narcissus did not mind the venom that was creeping into his voice, he had her now. “I want them... to drown. To be battered and broken by the torrent. To gasp painfully for those last precious gulps of air as the raging maelstrom drags them under. To flail uselessly as they sink into the depths of despair. And, at that moment, when they know just how utterly defeated they are, we shall strike in one final, glorious display of might to bring their end.”
      A vile grin cut its way across Oba-san’s face, to match his ugly own. Without breaking her eye-contact with Major Narcissus, and with practiced grace, she raised her hand from her lap, casually holding it aloft. Then, after a brief pause, presumably for some sort of superfluous effect, she snapped her fingers. The bright white spotlight over the table immediately snuffed out, replaced only barely by a diffuse red glow throughout the expansive chamber. An endless sea of shadows surrounded the pair of them at the table, stood perfectly still and waiting.
      The dam would break upon MangaRaiders.
      The Sentai would be crushed beneath the weight.
      MR-tan’s power would be his.
      Through his scarred and pallid skin, Major Narcissus’ blood flashed a vile green.

We open with a piece that was meant to be a two paragraph prologue... but I was having too much fun exploring villainy, so it ended up as 3 pages!


CHAPTER 2: CIRCLING THE DRAIN


CHAPTER 3: JAWS OF CHARYBDIS


CHAPTER 4: SAY HELLO TO SCYLLA


CHAPTER 5: ET TU, KAIJU!?


EPILOGUE


Aaaaaand we are done!
« Last Edit: January 15, 2023, 05:02:36 PM by NO1SY »

Offline legomaestro

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Re: MR War Arc: Sentai Revival!
« Reply #1 on: February 22, 2021, 04:25:29 AM »
'vexatious varmints' Gaddamn I've learnt a new phrase and if that isn't chilling villanous dialogue then I'm blind and deaf. Especially the last lines. Pretty epic scene, love the build up and you have a great descriptive voice dude.

Also meeting Oba-san reminds me of Netflixes' daredevil when Fisk meets Gao

And for some reason I really liked that touch of him smashing the vase just for the sake of it. Saw it as a scene in a film, even.

Good stuff man, and oh the Sentai have gotta watch out haha

Offline NO1SY

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Re: MR War Arc: Sentai Revival!
« Reply #2 on: February 22, 2021, 06:02:30 AM »
Thank you very much Lego! :biggrin:

I suppose I was going for a similar vibe as Gao... It’s quite a trope, but I don’t mind a little bit of cliche every now and then.

So I must give credit to Coryn as editor for the vase scene. My original take on Narcissus was one of some beast within clawing its way out in fits of anger and rage (which is not his character at all... I think I was getting signals crossed with R-Kain). So he was imagining himself walking down this hotel corridor and ripping it to pieces, and allowed himself one act of nihilistic release, toppling the vase off its stand to see if the front is really just a delicate house of cards that would collapse if one thing falls. After being made aware of the mistake in my interpretation of the character I dialled it all the way back but Coryn suggested that I keep in the vase and have him stamp on it after it survives the fall - “It gets across him being the kind to always get what he wants, and brings back a little of the pettiness he had in the original rendition”. I think the end result turned out so much better than the original, with such a small thing really showing quite a lot of Narcissus’ character as a villain. It just goes to show how beneficial good feedback and engagement with that feedback can be.

Offline Suuper-san

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Re: MR War Arc: Sentai Revival!
« Reply #3 on: February 23, 2021, 04:16:08 PM »
a good read. I can't comment on anything to improve but can't wait for more.
especially as I'm trying to get around the canon and figure out what's going on :P
gotta take a look at Coryn's canon guide....
Art: Illustrations / Fanart / Requests (closed) / Other Art | Manga Stories & Projects
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Offline Coryn

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Re: MR War Arc: Sentai Revival!
« Reply #4 on: February 25, 2021, 06:58:31 PM »
Don't forget the short list I provided Suuper! That will get you on your way sooner than anything!

Will review stories upon request. My latest arc: http://goo.gl/KYgsfF

Offline NO1SY

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Re: MR War Arc: MR Sentai Revival!
« Reply #5 on: March 16, 2021, 09:08:19 PM »
Alright! After a slight month long stall, I bring you the second instalment of this resurgence of the MR Sentai! Thank you once again to the Canon Overlord. Please enjoy my tribute. :biggrin:


CHAPTER 2: CIRCLING THE DRAIN
Circling the Drain

“So this whole time there were two of you!?”
      Legoc led NO1SY north-west across the building-tops of the Manga & Anime Quarter at a casual pace, hopping from roof to roof, wall to wall, avoiding the most precarious structures. He was still enjoying the freeing sensation of his suit, like a second skin, which provided him power and agility enough to make such leaps and bounds with the most minimal effort.
      The same couldn’t be said for the newly helmeted Black Raider, who stumbled across the ruined city-scape after him. For some reason, the strength imbued by NO1SY’s tight-fit combo of padded spandex and visored helm was not as consistent as his own. Unfortunately, a lack of strength did not translate to a lack of questions. Questions with answers that Legoc was still getting his own head around.
      “One… two… two as one… one as two...” he replied.
      “Yeeeeeaaaahhhh… and the Lego I know is an ‘unreliable, lazy, drunken, nihilistic, self-absorbed, obstinate fool’, who would now rather sing sea-shanties than take responsibility after losing his moderator powers?”
      “Precisely.”
      “And you are a green cat-person alien...”
      Legoc sighed into his helmet’s heads up display, “and galaxy-conquering super vigilante.”
      “... but you are truly several millennia old constructs from a long lost civilization on a long lost planet, who both fought your way here across the galaxy to…?”
      “Fulfill our legacy and appreciate nekomimi waifus - something that I introduced him to! The ungrateful b*stard…”
      “Oof…”
      “Yes, ‘Oof’! He’s always like this; failing to give me credit where credit is due. Years I have spent sentinel over the night here in MangaRaiders, making his job easy. And I’ve kept to my solitude so that at least one of us is achieving our mi-” The human was too quiet all of a sudden, “NO1SY?”
      The other Sentai Raider had fallen short on his leap and careened bodily into the building’s wall, where he now clawed on to a bent gutter to avoid falling. With a near audible roll of the eyes, Legoc turned and offered a hand up to the struggling newbie. He grasped NO1SY wrist-to-wrist, and effortlessly hauled him up.
      “Thanks… I think this suit is busted, the range indicator said I should have made that jump easy…” He brushed himself down in puffs of brick dust. The suit didn’t appear damaged at all. It was much akin to his own, a skin-tight suit of elastic material that was almost leathery and matte with its respective color (obviously his green was way cooler than NO1SY’s jet-black), with padded shoulders, gloves, boots and belt. The differences were minor: NO1SY’s suit had an upturned collar compared to a red scarf, and his helmet sported inlaid circular patterns over the ears instead of rigid cat ears on top. “So that’s the reason I’ve never met you? You kept watch over us and the city, keeping the streets clean at night for the mods in the day. That’s quite selfless… like the hero we never knew we needed, or wanted… or even had!” The pair came to an abrupt halt on a flat rooftop, in the shade of a billboard that 4Kids had already commandeered for military recruitment propaganda. Legoc turned to stare blankly at NO1SY, tilting his helmeted head.
      “What are you talking about? Everyone knew about me.”
      The human stopped in his tracks, “what?”
      “Yeah, the blond one used to come and bug me on night-watch all the time… I’d spar with Coach, drag-race against Litt, even use my femto-machines to drink Sherbert under the table.”
      “But I never saw you even once! I was here for three years!?”
      “Hmmmm I remember the humans saying something about it being funny trying to convince you that MangaRaiders had a cryptid… and then complaining that you were too oblivious to notice…”
      NO1SY stood there visor-palming, “that has Coryn and Vacant written all over it…”
      Legoc just shrugged, “gave them less time to bother me.”
      “Regardless… what I was going to say is that it seems like you and… other Lego made a pretty good team.”
      Legoc’s gaze swept out across the MangaRaiders and an inexplicable anger welled up within him, “well, I don’t need him anymore! Look at the place! All of the sword training in the galaxy, with extra moderator powers to boot, and when it came to defending the city against the invasion by dogmatic nutjobs, the empty-afroed drunkard failed spectacularly! Does he not even realize what he stumbled on with this place? Absolutely useless!”
      “It is quite the mess…” They stood for a solemn moment, surveying the broken skyline of the outer city. They had cut in close to the center, so that the towers draped in neon lights loomed colossal over them, while they aimed to reach the Artists’ District. MangaRaiders still clung to life, and when it sensed danger the Sentai Raiders felt a pull to face it, even if that meant sprinting across a megacity... Luckily their helmet displays scanned and alerted them to threats from 4Kids security, allowing them to avoid trouble thus far. Legoc stalked to the edge of the roof and peered down to the warrens below, his visor highlighting the zig-zag and criss-cross of potential clear routes in a holographic blue. He looked over his shoulder to see NO1SY batting at the side of his helmet, “Never thought I’d say this but does this music not have an off button…?” Legoc chuckled silently behind his visor, before turning back to finish his appraisals from on high.
      “We’ll take to the streets now. We are too exposed up here this close to the tower, and I’d rather not have to keep saving your clumsy tail from tasting concrete.” He launched himself off the rooftop in a graceful cartwheeling flip, without waiting for NO1SY’s confirmation, and they raced off into the night to the tune of funky guitars, shrill trumpets, and rhythmic bongos.


      I thought we were meant to be sneaking!? NO1SY raced with Legoc through the winding corridors of the inner reaches of the Writers District, chased by a ridiculous, blaring soundtrack. A patchwork of lights and the raising of voices, half venomously angry and half incredibly confused, lit up the night in their wake. The tall, terraced buildings that still remained here had been commandeered as temporary 4Kids offices and residences while they continued to pillage the city, and while he did not particularly feel sorry for waking the interlopers, he sure as heck felt embarrassed.
      As if one, quite literal, headache weren’t enough, it hadn’t taken NO1SY long to realize that his suit was not quite working as well as Legoc’s. Within mere moments he had felt the sheer, potential power held within the strange, elastic material, and with the cat-man in the green such power was on full display. Feline nature aside, Legoc flitted through the streets with a grace, speed and agility unmatched, despite a distinct overuse of superfluous and exaggerated acrobatics that had him bouncing around like a pinball. It was all NO1SY could do to keep up. For him, the same well of power was there, but accessing it felt spotty like an unstable mobile network signal being overworked at peak times. As such, he was having some real trust issues, especially after that stumble up top that had him acquainted face-first with the city’s liberal definition of architecture.
      The one upside so far: the suit was an ungodly level of comfortable; well fitted and supportive in all the right places, whilst completely liberating in others as if it weren't even there. Not that he would EVER admit it out loud. It still looked super ridiculous.
      They had made startling progress through the metropolis though. They were approaching the North Road already and he was barely breaking a sweat - in stark contrast to the last time he had ventured here. It took hours of excruciating, pilates-style sneaking to avoid being riddled with holes by sniper bullets a month ago, and here we are now, simply charging through the streets with all the subtlety of an ice-cream van burning rubber in Redline, without so much as a warning sho-
      A spray of bullets ricocheting off the tarmac prematurely punctuated that thought. They had been perfectly aimed at where NO1SY had been, but somehow the suit had given him, and induced him to act upon, an instinctual warning against the danger. The juke was a minor course change, but he followed through into a sideways flip off a building’s wall that just felt natural to do. A 4Kids patrol had set up a hastily put together blockade up ahead, uncertain of how to prepare for the oncoming commotion barreling towards them. NO1SY’s visor display highlighted four gunmen knelt and aiming down sights, three figures with riot shields and brutal looking batons, and one man trying to bark over the highly disruptive music into a radio.
      With at least two barrels training on him for sure, and not willing to chance relying on the suit to save him a second time, he fought the instinct to slow down and take evasive maneuvers. Legoc was bouncing around all over the place but still moving forward at a blistering pace, so NO1SY picked up his speed to keep up. Supersonic lead dotted a trail behind him, but within seconds it ceased as the firing line retreated behind the sturdy cover of the three hulking riot-shielders. Still the Sentai Raiders did not slow as they came upon the wall.
      It took a conscious effort for NO1SY not to be distracted in awe of Legoc’s movement. In the blink of an eye, the Green Raider dropped and slid the last stride to the shield wall, twisting himself into a kick that swept below two of the shields and took the pair’s feet from beneath them. He finished the motion like a coiled snake wound to strike, and, as the wall began to resemble swinging saloon doors, the cat-man launched himself through the narrow gap. He flew up and through, spiraling like a whirlwind, and whipped around his legs. The first spinning kick connected with the back of the soldier’s helmet with a satisfying crunch, sending him flying forward. The second mid-air kick struck the side of the other patrolman’s head, but Legoc used this to maintain enough momentum to launch himself like an Olympic gymnast over the slack-jawed heads of the rest of the unit and carry on his sprint. They were so dumbstruck that NO1SY could simply use the third shield-bearer as a ramp to jump over and follow along.
      The next blockades were at the entry ramps to the underpasses that burrowed beneath the North Road. This time the 4Kids troopers had had enough time and forewarning to entrench properly. In fact, their barriers looked damn near impenetrable. No drunks would be wandering them tonight.
      “Legoc… there’s no way we can punch thro-”
      “Follow my lead, human.” Was all the blunt response NO1SY received before the Green Raider abruptly steered himself off course and launched himself into a physics defying leap over the tall railings flanking where the defining road began its steep ramp up to supersede the tangle of highways that meshed around the inner city.
      “Oh sh*t man, the snipers!” NO1SY warned too late, already mid-leap himself. And, as if on queue, no less than a dozen cracks echoed across the city from all angles, danger-red laser sights making a deadly light show as they swept across the night from the watchtowers. But they failed to track their target. Legoc was a confusion of cartwheels, flips somersaults, pirouettes, twists and rolls across the tarmac. It almost made NO1SY dizzy. No one body part stayed in one place long enough to aim at, and, despite the veritable firecracker of collective attempts, the presumably frustrated gunmen couldn’t even just get lucky.
      Well… maybe they didn’t have to; for NO1SY’s faulty power struck again, having not provided him the calculated amount required for the jump. “Ugh,” still airborne, his trailing foot caught on the top runs of the railing and gut-wrenchingly pivoted him towards the ground. Tucking in his head and shoulder he managed to save his face this time with a semi-controlled tumble, completely exposed. Within three seconds he would have more holes in him than the plots of most shounen manga.
      I hope this still works… “Two-forty BPM.” The goofy theme-song sped up to a near comical parody, before igniting into a blistering power-metal rendition, and with it NO1SY became a flash. In less than a heartbeat he was level with Legoc off the other side of the North Road, and it wasn’t until he was sure that they lost 4Kids’ scopes among the jungle of the inner Artists District that he allowed his butt to un-clench.


      Legoc felt alive. He loved the power coursing through him via the suit, loved the exhilaration of the race across the city, loved the chance to kick in some 4Kids goons’ heads. He took a big, satisfying breath of the night air in, which felt fresh even through the helmet. He stopped. Held a hand out to motion the Black Raider to do the same. There was a scent, faint, hidden, growing.
      “What?” NO1SY panted, hands on knees, obviously in need of fitness training, “Why... have we... stopped? Not that I’m… complaining… useless… suit...”
      “I think we’ve arrived.” The pull felt on their hearts, which had initially drawn them towards the district, had long since faded, either having served its purpose to spur them onto the right course or unable to maintain its signal for the entire journey. The pair now stood on a wide street that once proudly hosted grand galleries for as far as the eye could see; an admittedly impressive display of human creativity. These days it was determinately less glorious. The buildings, ranging from pillared classical, to striking modern, to downright bizarre, were all hollowed out and boarded up, and layered with a veneer of grime from the now uncontrolled weather, wildlife and neglect.
      The other Sentai Raider finally pulled himself together and surveyed the scene.
      “Are you sure? I’m not seeing anything here, not even on this holo-visor-thingy…”
      “It’s coming.” The scent was growing still, closer and closer, larger and larger. A familiar, detestable scent. The air had begun to shift, his suit feeding him the same sense data that his fur would. The corner of a discarded 4Kids propaganda pamphlet began to flutter on the ground as a breeze picked up. In the corner of his vision a shadow moved unnaturally. “Their first strike will be the worst, but it’s the tenacity that is really annoying.” They would be surrounded by now.
      “What? Whose?” NO1SY responded, definitely more nervous than curious.
      The storm was almost simultaneous with Legoc’s answer.
      “Spam Ninjas.”
      It was as if a hurricane had descended upon the street. A culmination of individual actions so coordinated and overwhelming that it resulted in a violent phenomenological effect. High-speed winds within the radius tore at the pair of Raiders from all sides. The surrounding movement was thick enough to block out the neon glow of the city center that still loomed overhead, shrouding them in a malevolent darkness. Even the blaring theme song was buffeted beneath the sound akin to a hundred raging waterfalls.
      “Aaaaagghh!” He heard the human cry out as he was knocked off balance to a knee.
      Then it stopped.
      NO1SY unsteadily regained his footing at Legoc’s side, “the fu-?”
      The scene was worse than desolation. It was desecration.
   
      “WILL BUY MANGA ARTIST FOR 1 MILLION RUPLES PER PAGE”
      “UNLIMITED FREE S RANK GACHA WAIFUS”
      “HOT BARELY EAGLE FURRIES IN YOUR AREA”
      “SELLING GOLD FOR THE REAL SWORD ART ONLINE”
      “IM A WAKANDAN PRINCE AND I NEED YOUR HELP”
      “10 TIPS FOR BIGGER OPPAI”
      “YOU’LL NEVER GUESS HOW THIS OTAKU FOUND TRUE LOVE”
      “V-TUBERS WANT TO STEP ON YOU”
      “EMAIL YOUR STORY TO US FOR THE WRITING JOB OF A LIFETIME”
      “SALE! USED ULTRA RARE COLLECTABLE BODY PILLOWS”

   
      Every square inch of wall space, lamppost, pavement, bench, window-boarding, street sign, and even a stray rat scurrying for cover, was strewn with deplorable and poorly punctuated all-caps messages, graffiti tags, sexually suggestive posters, holographic troll emotes, dodgy contact details, crudely drawn genitalia on stick figures and every other nefarious thing under the sun. The street had been transformed from recoverable despondence to hideous ruination in mere minutes. If left to continue throughout the city, the image of MangaRaiders would forever be so tarnished that, even if by some miracle they succeeded in reclaiming the site and scrubbed away the stain, no one would ever seek out the place again. However, it only took one particular piece, repeatedly plastered up the entire side of a gallery once dedicated to the exploration of nekomimi artwork, to set Legoc’s eyebrow to twitching:

      “GLASSES > CAT EARS    GLASSES > CAT EARS    GLASSES > CAT EARS    GLASSES > CAT EARS    GLASSES > CAT EARS    GLASSES > CAT EARS    GLASSES > CAT EARS    GLASSES > CAT EARS    GLASSES > CAT EARS    GLASSES > CAT EARS    GLASSES > CAT EARS    GLASSES > CAT EARS”
   
      “Someone’s gonna die tonight.”
      The only things as innumerable as the sickening collage of spam were its arbiters. Thousands of beady, empty eyes stared uncaring from the slim gap in their black, masked cowls. You could tell that they came from eggs… The diminutive figures wrapped in dark ninja slacks and tabi in black straw sandals were as a sea, filling the street and all of the surrounding alleys, and packed on rooftops and even ready to spill from open windows.
      “Oh sh*t, oh sh*t, oh sh*t, oh…” droned the human at his side. At least he looked to be lowering into a readied stance, holding his right hand ready by his helmeted ear. After the display earlier, it would be interesting to see how this fellow fought.
      Perhaps such observation was wishful thinking however; the first tidal wave of Spam Ninjas leaped at them, blotting out the moon.



How will our helmeted heroes survive this onslaught? Find out next time on MR Sentai Revival!

« Last Edit: October 31, 2022, 02:41:50 PM by NO1SY »

Offline Coryn

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Re: MR War Arc: MR Sentai Revival!
« Reply #6 on: March 17, 2021, 06:24:17 PM »
(I believe the official title is Lore Keeper, despite all appearances I must reiterate I'm not in charge of the canon's direction. I just happen to know the most about it so I can say when something steps on previously established Canon)

Will review stories upon request. My latest arc: http://goo.gl/KYgsfF

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Re: MR War Arc: MR Sentai Revival!
« Reply #7 on: March 18, 2021, 09:10:48 AM »
nice cliffhanger. a lot of good moments and character interactions.

laughed at the spam messages and the glasses>nekomimi struck a nerve with me too :P

perhaps because I'm leaning into writing now I'm reading a bit more these days. Almost ready to devour the Canon for good this time :D
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Re: MR War Arc: MR Sentai Revival!
« Reply #8 on: March 18, 2021, 06:48:26 PM »
@Coryn - Who ever said you are the Canon Overlord!? Presumptuous! :tongue:  It is definitely a beast being fed and stretched from many directions, you are doing a good job to at least keep it somewhat consistent.

@Suuper - Thank you so much for taking the time to read and comment, I honestly really appreciate the engagement! I hope there will be more moments for you to look forward to in the not too distant future. And yeah, I was particularly proud of those spam messages! :P

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Re: MR War Arc: MR Sentai Revival!
« Reply #9 on: June 17, 2021, 03:42:19 PM »
Hello! It is finally my pleasure to present you all with the next installment of this War Arc side story. This one has taken a while to get done because both Coryn and I have been very busy IRL and both writing and editing have had to take back seats at various points... but it's here now! Many thanks to Coryn for tolerating my pushiness towards the end :sure:

Lego I hope that I have done your character justice, I just had to wing it because you never check my messages! Also, thank you to the members who allowed me to write them into this story. I hope you are all happy with how this has turned out so far, and how I portray you in the next chapters :biggrin:



CHAPTER 3: JAWS OF CHARYBDIS
Jaws of Charybdis

A figure watched from the cover of a highway tunnel, hidden by shadows cast beneath moonlight battling the glow of neon skyscrapers. Another combat raged below, terrifying and one-sided, thrashing along an already ruined street. But they knew in their heart that this was where they were meant to be. It was as if they had been summoned, answering a great, all-consuming call within. This was a feeling that they had thought had been snuffed out in them. They had been consigned to their fate, to the fate of MangaRaiders, dejectedly going through the motions of menial work for their new overlords; head down, staying out of the limelight, existing but not really living. But tonight had been a reminder of bewilderment and wonder, a jolt back to the extant curiosity of times thought lost. One moment they were in their assigned “supervised” quarters, the next they were rebelliously and exploratively tearing through the curfew that shackled each night. Now they were here in regal blue, ready to once more step out from the shadows of oppression. All it took was a note floating through the bars on their window. And a song.


      NO1SY was alone in the dark. He had been forced to a knee, submerged beneath a mounting pressure. He felt the acidic burn biting at his muscles, and the straining of joints on the brink, as even his Sentai suit struggled to keep up. His breaths came ragged, rattling around inside his helmet. Sweat made for a swampy feel against the padding at his temples. The hideously inappropriate soundtrack that had stalked them throughout MangaRaiders was now a smothered, tinny droning in the background. And, of course, his nose had started to itch...
      How long had it been? How many punches had he thrown, kicks had he landed? How many more had he taken? When one onslaught was withstood, still more crashed against them like waves in a tempest. Even Legoc had slowed, when NO1SY had last caught sight of him. The Green Raider had begun their fight as a tumbling whirlwind of lacerating claws, but had long since reduced themselves to precision strikes and defensive maneuvers. NO1SY was sure that he had seen the ruby strokes of sunrise on the horizon during those final glimpses of his companion. Or had that just been blood smeared across his visor?
      The suit, despite its issues, had kept him in the fight far longer than he could have imagined against such odds. He had truly whipped that theme-song into an even more gaudy confusion of style and sounds: riding on the shredding speed of guitar solos to bolt like lightning through the ranks of ninjas; floating on the haze of reggae beats to dodge or absorb strikes gently like a falling feather; adjusting by the technical precision of classical piano scales to pinpoint key targets within the mob and break down attacks before they could gather momentum. By now his overuse of powers would have usually seen him near death from all of the physiological over-stimulation, but the imbued Sentai power seemed to have worked like a buffer, preventing his body from shriveling and his brain from melting out from his ears.
      But why did he even keep on fighting? The site was lost; the enemy’s grip strangling the last vestiges of life from it. And now another, equally insurmountable enemy piled on top. Was this really what he had wandered so long in the desert for? Were there even that many of his old friends left? Even if MangaRaiders survived, would many of them return like he did? Was there much left here for them? And now he had been lumped with this responsibility - to battle and protect - but did he even want it? Was it worth it? These were the questions that the solitude in the darkness fed through his head. And he could spend a lot of time sitting in the dark circling through such rhetoricals.
      But he knew in his heart that he would fight. He was compelled to, just like he was compelled to seek out the city through the desert. He was fighting to keep a home; somewhere to stay and somewhere to come back to. For himself. For everyone. They were out there, hidden in the city or locked out on the Net, deep down feeling exactly the same way.
      And then there was a particular sour-puss just next to him who had been left to fight alone for too long.
      “Sigh.” It’s so hard to hulk out to this song though… NO1SY turned up the gain, and slowed the beat to quarter time, transfiguring the distant trundling into a punctate breakdown. It made him cringe due to his inability to distort the twangy instruments into anything even slightly more metal. Still, he felt the rising heat and slight swelling in his muscles as his blood pumped harder and the fibers worked beyond their limits. The tension in him grew and grew, and he held on to it tightly, compressing the rising potential into his finite space until he was near to burning up. Steam wisped from his suited body. At the last possible moment he released it all in one singular explosive movement.
      NO1SY stood up.


      A thin silhouette crouched low atop an apartment complex rooftop that overlooked the carnage a few streets over. It had been a street that they had frequented and set up on often in the past, but it was hard to even imagine such a bright and whimsical scene now as the sea of bodies raged over its length and in every cracked building and thin alley. Yet another happiness buried in MangaRaiders. They were almost numb to such a realization now. It had been so long since there had been something to get excited about, something to get interested in, something that they felt the need to talk about or to do. Even though in the work camps they had resisted the worst effects of the aura of censorship for the longest time, in hindsight it hadn’t really mattered; the banality of being subservient to 4Kids was so uninteresting that it sapped all will for engagement, and so they shut up anyway. But then came the note, and the phone call, and the pull in their chest. Despite their lost voice, they spoke the five words that brought them here, yellow as the rising sun.


      Bodies rained down all around Legoc, and he had to admit that he was impressed. He had been ripping and tearing his way over to where NO1SY had been forced down beneath an ever heaping pile of creepily diminutive bodies, but his progress had been agonizingly slow through the endless horde that seemed to fill the twenty-odd feet between him and his compatriot. It felt like digging a hole with your hands on the beach; the deeper he clawed the more sand tumbled in from above to fill it back in. He could merely watch as more and more Spam Ninjas flung themselves onto the mound to crush the life from the Black Raider. It didn’t take a combat genius, such as himself, to realize that NO1SY had been pushing himself, commendably, past his limits since well before the hints of dawn. He would not last long beneath such a weight.
      But the lad had surprised him once more with those powers of his. The mound had begun to bulge and plume, and then erupted with destructive force that rippled throughout the crowd in all directions. Of course, Legoc’s martial experience allowed him to capitalize on such a disruption - such a surprise should never be allowed to distract or stun you in the midst of battle - and so he rode the waves of confusion with acrobatic grace to land back-to-back with NO1SY in the circular clearing he had made. The strange warping of the theme-music slowly faded until it returned to the familiar romp, which he definitely preferred. He could hear the Raider panting despite the helmet.
      “Not bad, cub.” The air behind him was unnaturally hot and tinged with the smell of burnt elastane.
      “Awww… C’mon…” Not exactly the response Legoc was expecting, but the reason soon became apparent. The motionless Spam Ninjas that encircled them, like a sea of background figures a studio couldn’t be bothered to animate, looked blankly at them with those deadpan stares. Then, like a really unenthusiastic stadium wave - perfectly coordinated but with none of the fun - they all drew weapons. Katanas, claws, kunai, tanto, tonfas and kamas, suddenly appearing in those vicious little hands. This was already the largest invading force of Spam Ninjas that Legoc had ever seen in MangaRaiders, and a fight that the two of them had had only the very slimmest chance of ever walking away from, but it suddenly became a whole lot more deadly.
      The next moments were a pregnant pause; the slow, gut-twisting teeter at the top of a roller-coaster; an anxious and intense calm before a storm of unimaginable violence. Time has a tendency to unravel in such moments. A breath is stretched into an eternity as the psyche explodes into fight or flight, the thoughts of the overclocked mind racing past the trudge of regular movement and perception. Legoc did not like where this wild gallop of his senses took him.
      The front line of ninjas had raised their weapons, drawing Legoc’s gaze up towards the tall towers of the inner city. His nightly crusade had begun from those rooftops, when he had snuck off as the other soul slumbered lazily and climbed their lofty heights in frustration and rebellion, only for the expansively impressive view to reveal the discovery of a lifetime. And it had been a very, very long lifetime. It was the first time in millennia that their objective had been aligned, despite the very divergent reasons: Help this community reach the summit of its potential.
      So, while the Human in him had socialized and focused on working within what was easy and accessible to him and others, his cat-self had focused on the details and the minutiae that the other inevitably missed on MangaRaiders’ journey to the pinnacle of civilizations. His nights were consumed with delicate tweaks to energy flows, slight tunings to technologies, the uncovering of buried secrets, the preservation of pivotal artifacts, and the defense against the most unscrupulous of invaders that would jeopardize it all. It felt righteous, like a sacred duty, to the point that his human side started to take some responsibility too. For his human side it brought him even closer to his peers, but Legoc remained alone. Oh, they tried to bring him into the fold, and he even went along with their jovial nonsense from time to time. But one does not get attached to food. Each new encounter and event with a resident of MangaRaiders required him to put up a new wall on top of the last, to grow the wedge that would allow himself to eventually pry himself free from their bonds. Those were for his weak, lazy, human soul. But… if I had wanted them… he thought, at this moment.
      Even worse is that he had not done enough. All of his careful work was now crushed beneath the leathery boots of a bunch of overly militaristic, hideously corporate and consumerist, strangely religious, nutjobs. The setback was catastrophic. He liked to growl at Legoh for failing this city, but honestly, had he done any better? He had been there too when Uncle Joe had been infiltrated. He had been there when the demon duo betrayed them, and when he had been sucker-punched into oblivion by Megedagik. He had wallowed alongside Legoh in the sewers. It was easy to blame Legoh, to use it as a justification to split and leave when the hunger pangs kicked in. But he had been too complacent and self-assured with his work, and when it all came crashing down around them, the shame had been too much. I ran away...
      A glare flashed across his eyes as a blade caught the shine of the newly blazing sun, but, instead of the celestial body, once again his mind’s eye showed him something else. Someone else. She was framed through a valley of leaping bodies, a glistening beacon past the walls of darkness. Cascading blonde hair curled and tumbled like fire around her peaceful face. Her smile was perfect and serene without a whisker out of place, and her lithe form emanated grace from her toes to the tips of her perky cat ears.
      “I wish I could see Felicity again…” he mumbled to no one but himself.
      But he was just staring at the sun.
      Then the first tonfa smashed into his helmet.


      A fairly large figure stomped through alleyways that were doing their best to stay dingy in spite of the dawn. The place was a whole lot less clean than the last time they had been here, few and far between as those visits were anyway, and they tried not to dwell on the sounds of scurrying that whispered from the dark corners. They hoped it was creatures of the furry kind rather than the six-plus-legged kind, but definitely not the furry six-plus-legged kind. The sounds were slowly drowned out as the din of combat grew to replace them the closer they came to the battle. Why were they striding towards a battle? All this time it had been so easy to forget about the struggle and the fight, even before the invasion; to spend time elsewhere and do other things. But an anger simmered below the surface for the injustice, prodded and fed by an innate defiance against authority (especially the unfair kind). Initially, inaction and deflection mingled with that fire and rebellion to produce a lot of hot air, but after a while the complaining rang hollow even to their own ears. At the precise moment when the call to action aligned with the desire for freedom the oddly retro telephone rang, and, wild in pink, they found a tune worth marching to.


      Sparks burst off the strange elasticated suit as yet another blade struck home, this time along NO1SY’s shoulder. Somehow the material was resistant to the full effects of being slashed or stabbed or bashed or crushed or shot or lasered… which he supposed was probably a good thing if he measured his health on a scale of “not dying”. Still stings like a b*tch though! The suit was beginning to look as beat up as he felt; criss-crossed with charred lines from where the enemies’ strikes had inevitably gotten through his desperate defenses. Warning icons and a body schematic turned from green to orange all over criticized his performance in his helmet display. It did not appear that the suit could hold out against many more grievous attacks, if his body didn’t just turn to mush inside it first anyway.
      NO1SY cartwheeled backwards to dodge away from a wild slice at his neck, catching the offender under the chin with his boot on the way and launching the little, darkly wrapped figure skyward. Legoc remained close by, also doing his best to stay alive with his feline agility combined with emboldened acrobatics, whilst struggling to find openings to retaliate with clawing swipes. The moment NO1SY landed from his maneuver he shot a powerful kick straight backwards to halt a leaping ninja in midair. The body bowled into the crowd behind and brought them a little space to retreat another few steps. They had to escape from the sea of enemies that surrounded them on all sides and improve their odds by facing them in one single direction. But such a beachhead was still nowhere in sight and they were at serious risk of drowning.
      One of his steps synchronized with the downbeat of the theme song that hummed, inappropriately jovially, around them. I had almost forgotten that was playing… Was it quieter? Not really. But, raging battle notwithstanding, it seemed harder to notice somehow; weak. Another few spam ninjas broke out from the pack, interrupting NO1SY’s ruminations. He deflected and flowed with the first to redirect its momentum off to the side and hook-kicked it in the head to send it spiraling against another flanking charge. He let his body follow through with its turn, twisting low before uncoiling upwards with a rising elbow into the face of the second assailant, who flipped backwards and was swallowed up in the legions upon legions. Finally he entered a boxer’s stance to duck beneath the lunging stab from the third ninja’s kunai and return fire with a straight punch to the chest that had the full force of his body behind it. His fist went straight through. There was no light to leave the beady little eyes before the little sh*t burst into a cloud of blood and pixels. This was how they truly died, and NO1SY would be lying if he said he didn’t find it rather satisfying.
      No time for revelry though.
      He found himself back to back with Legoc, looking for the next optimal point to crawl some distance against the tide. Several ninjas attacked from all sides and it became immediately apparent that something was failing. The tussle pushed both Raiders tight together and, where before they had been able to cover for one another and coordinate their attacks for added effectiveness, fatigue and clumsiness took hold. NO1SY swung one of the squat fighters around behind him for Legoc to finish with a usual slice, but instead just knocked the cat-man off balance with a retributive Hiss. To recover, the Green Raider leapt into a vault over him to reposition, but the timing left NO1SY unable to dodge as a kama scorched a long trail across his back.
      “Aaaaarrgh”, more than previous, it was agony. The tripping over one another continued for another few minutes as the damage piled on. I could tap into my tech power to help me coordinate better, was his initial instinct, but he hesitated. I’m almost certain I will pass out after a minute or so though, I’ve basically been running on empty since the sun came up... He could hear, and feel Legoc fighting frantically behind him, and then was jolted forward as his fellow Raider lost a step and elbowed him in the back. He made the call. F*ck this. At least one of us has to survive.
      But he never had time to activate his power.
      He had been pushed too far out of position and the blow struck him so hard in the side of his helmet that the visor cracked. His ears rang and stars raced across his vision as his body involuntarily spun off to the side. NO1SY landed on his hands and knees. He tried to push himself back up but the best he could manage was to lean back into a sagging kneel.
      His sight returned slowly, revealing dozens of sharp weapons descending towards him.


      “Ba-dum baa, ba-dum baa…”
      The volume of the refrain grew through the darkened doorway to the lab. No matter the tunefulness of the song, the voice that sang it made MR-tan’s skin crawl. As it drew closer and louder, it was accompanied by a rhythmic shuffling of footsteps and a swaying shadow coming into focus. Then Major Narcissus literally waltzed through the threshold.
      “Daaa, da-da-da, Ba-dum da-da-da-da-daaa!” he bellowed in a chilling baritone, and he twirled, arms poised as if he were guiding a partner in a traditional dance. MR-tan could only imagine him guiding someone into a pool for drowning. With one final spin, he halted abruptly, finishing facing her strapped into her procedure chair. “Getting in some early practice,” he explained casually.
      He was in a sickeningly good mood. 4Kids-tan rolled her eyes but was too engrossed with her preparations of instruments just shy of torture tools to comment. The Major continued to hum the tune and mime conducting with his hands as he sauntered over into his own chair, unperturbed by MR-tan’s glare. He slithered his sinuous, scarred body out from his shirt before taking a seat.
      “My dear, dear Tan,” he warbled, wearing a sinister, smug grin as he made himself comfortable, “you are such a sweetheart to share so much of yourself so freely.”
Drained and terrified as she was, MR-tan stared defiantly at the bland ceiling of the lab. Still she could feel the man’s leering gaze as if it were flaying her skin. After her previous two sessions, she was beginning to feel numb to the pain from their ‘extractions’, but she would never stop feeling discomfort when strapped next to Narcissus.
      “Prime for transfer.” 4Kids-tan stated dispassionately from her computer.
      “By suppertime the evasive critters will be dealt with, and we shall have the final piece of this puzzle.” Major Narcissus stated with glee. “Then there shall be many tests to conduct. That means that we shall be spending much more time together as I become the inheritor of your power for our foreseeable future.” He chuckled a Devil’s laugh. “This is truly the start of our becoming! My orchestrations will span to new heights, and I shall show you the extent to which you have been squandering your full potential. Take pride in the fact that you are my first; the one paving the way and setting the example for all of the future conduits, when peoples across every corner of the Net will prostrate themselves before me.”
      In the corner of her eye she caught a flash of pallid green pulse beneath the Major’s skin. “They are all just bodies for me to step on top of.”
      MR-tan winced and gritted her teeth as the machines invading her began to whir and the pain began anew.
      Narcissus only sighed with pleasure.


      Once more, Legoc was faced with failure, although he could barely see NO1SY’s execution unfold through the crowd. Their exhaustion had made them sloppy and unreliable to one another, and now his companion would pay. He knew his own fall was only seconds away. He continued to struggle, but the pint-sized humanoids were crawling all over him - literally swinging from his arms and legs - to bring him down for the finishing blow. He buckled to a knee after the fourth little flea leapt onto his back and the pain from the biting blades became too much to bear.
      In those next few moments, something grew into Legoc’s perception. It was something that had been growing for a while but had been lost to them in the tumult. It was the song. The paradoxical song that was awkward and corny, yet soulful and inspiring, swelling back to the forefront of attention. And it carried something else within the glorious wings of its melody; a sub-cacophony of unusual sounds.
      The first was a delicate whistling of perfectly smooth flight, which then manifested in a golden rain of yellow laser-arrows. The volley crashed among the immediate rabble, skewering most of the imps that posed the greatest threats to NO1SY and himself. A distant figure bounded acrobatically from rooftop to rooftop towards them.
      The second was a guttural roar as something or someone barrelled through the sea of small bodies like a steam train with a wedge plow, flinging victims in all directions. They then launched into a mighty leap that trailed neon pink, crashing down on top of the remaining foes harassing the beaten pair with a devastating swing of their laser-edged greatsword.
      The final sound was simply that of dashing footsteps, zipping and zig-zagging through the enemy lines before sliding out into their tiny clearing. They adeptly twirled their bo-staff, which promptly sprouted blue laser-blades from both ends as it picked up speed, and the figure became a whirling tornado that cleaved out a wide berth from their enemies.
      The Pink and Blue Raiders stood ready and proud in the clearing they had made. Both Legoc and NO1SY struggled to their feet as the Yellow Raider landed with perfect acrobatic poise behind them, bow in hand. The five then struck a perfectly coordinated, semi-symmetrical group pose that radiated pure awesomeness and cheese.
     
      “MR SENTAI GO!” They shouted in unison, “READY TO BATTO!”





My hope is that the wait for the next chapters will not be quite as protracted as this has been.

Cheers for reading!

« Last Edit: November 18, 2022, 11:54:46 AM by NO1SY »

Offline Coryn

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Re: MR War Arc: MR Sentai Revival!
« Reply #10 on: June 17, 2021, 04:52:21 PM »
Well I think we found the happy middle ground in the end, lol. The things we do for the sake of consistency.

Will review stories upon request. My latest arc: http://goo.gl/KYgsfF

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Re: MR War Arc: MR Sentai Revival!
« Reply #11 on: June 18, 2021, 05:26:01 AM »
Hey anything to make your job easier in the end my dude ;D

I'm happy with how this one turned out, and I'm grateful for your patience with getting me on the right tracks for Narcissus' character AGAIN!

My current plan is 2 more chapters and a short epilogue, so hopefully not too much longer and then I can come and help properly on Defeat.

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Re: MR War Arc: MR Sentai Revival!
« Reply #12 on: June 18, 2021, 03:02:04 PM »
 :thumbsup:

For real though, it's not like my little character summary was going to give you everything you needed. You're basically being guided along by the little voice in the back of my head saying "that's right, that's wrong, that's good enough."

Some days I wonder if Phillip K. Dick wasn't onto something when he talked about 'seeing' other versions of reality, because it's a lot like that sometimes. Sometimes you just know when someone's out of character.

Will review stories upon request. My latest arc: http://goo.gl/KYgsfF

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Re: MR War Arc: MR Sentai Revival!
« Reply #13 on: October 23, 2021, 05:56:52 AM »
Holy moly! It's been quite a while... again... But finally finished this next chapter and received enough feedback on the draft to feel like it was ready for editing and posting. As always, thank you for everyone who got involved with informing and refining this chapter, and if you missed out on giving input then I hope that you feel I did a good enough job with your characters anyway!

Following this, we reach the closing section of this MR Canon side-story, so I hope everyone stays tuned :)



CHAPTER 4: SAY HELLO TO SCYLLA
Say Hello To Scylla

Gag!
      “Urgh! What was that!? Why did I just say that!?” NO1SY physically lurched.
      Legoc was starkly quiet, his head bowed pensively.
      “That. Was. EPIC!” The Yellow Raider fist-pumped. They were slim, male, and their voice was youthful. A short, white cape billowed to the middle of their back as they stood proudly, bow in hand.
      “Suuper? Is that you!?” NO1SY probed. It had been a long time, but he could imagine the guy grinning from ear to ear for getting to wear a Sentai suit.
      “Uh-huh. Long time no see.” Suuper scanned the vast army that encircled them, “Although I wish it were under less stressful circumstances...” The Pink Raider, a fair bit more heavy-set than Suuper, stomped over to join in. A comfy-looking, bold pink hood bobbed up and down on her shoulders behind her helmet.
      “Stressfulisanunderstand… underside.... understatement!” She spat the words so fast that she seemed to trip over them. Even the slight tinniness of speaking through the helmet could not muffle her temper. “Ican’tevenprocre… protrac… procrastinateproperly’causetheywon’tletmedrawinthefirstplace!”
      “Hi Bobby!” chuckled Suuper.
      “ANDTHEYCONFUSCATEDMYMOTHERT-SHIRTS!”
      “Confuscated?” puzzled NO1SY.
      “CONFISCATED!”
      A calm voice interjected.
      “Awfully nice of them to stand still all this time for us, but shall we postpone re-introductions until after we have fought our way out of this predicament?” The shoulders of his suit were mantled, but if the blue color didn’t give his identity away, something else surely did.
      “Op…” NO1SY couldn’t help himself, “Why are you wearing your mask over your helmet…?” The two rectangular slits in the otherwise featureless silver mask stared blankly back at him before the man regally spun about-face and began to ready his stance with his staff. I guess no one knows what he looks like still…? NO1SY mused internally.
      Once again, the street was plunged into chaos. Bobby wasted no time in leaping back into the fray behind them to air her frustrations through her mighty sword swings. Operative held the line to their front with deadly efficiency, his staff extended now on either end for maximum reach as he whirled . Suuper narrowly ducked a shuriken aimed at his visor, then back-flipped up onto the top of a nearby fountain plinth before firing off a volley in retaliation. The statue of Hasith in a fairy costume that once stood daintily on the carved stone platform lay toppled in three pieces off to the side.
      “Absolutely, definitely, certainly too much heat down here for me. Gotta get moving!” With that the Yellow Raider bounded away, loosing arrow after arrow as he leapt and slid and flipped from lamp-posts to scaffolding to rooftops. The streaks of neon yellow were like shooting stars up above the battle, and little ninja bodies were flung from their high vantages and open windows as if hit by shotgun blasts. They burst into pixel dust on the wind before even hitting the ground.
      “... missing one…” mumbled Legoc off to the side.
      But NO1SY was mesmerized as Bobby brought devastation to the ranks of Spam Ninjas with each mighty swing of her huge sword. She was a furious grizzly bear rending through fish in a barrel. Her momentum built as downward cleave twisted into horizontal slash, which comboed into a vicious uppercut that she followed through into a backwards flip-kick and tumbled into another strike of her laser blade. Her flurry wove a trail of neon pink like a wound through the sea of darkly clad bodies. Op was fairing much the same; a neon blue twister riding the maelstrom of battle. But he fought intelligently too, switching the form of his staff’s laser ends to suit his needs. Billhook to unbalance and reposition a foe, staff to sweep some space from himself, guandao to lop off some heads. NO1SY watched them, then looked down at his bloodied gloves.
      “Cat-man…?” he asked.
      “Huh?” The Green Raider sounded like he had just snapped back to reality.
      “Why do they have weapons?”
      There was an uncomfortable pause as if NO1SY had asked a stupid question.
      “Those are their Sentai Power Weapons. Look.” All of a sudden, Legoc began to glow with a green aura. If NO1SY focused he could see the lines of code building within like a digital primordial soup. The Green Raider raised his Sentai Bracelet skyward. The glow that was diffused around his whole body rushed to gather at the bracelet, writing, downloading, increasing in intensity to a bright green ball. He lowered his arm until it was outstretched in front of him, then rested his other hand on his bicep. “POWER WHIP! GO!” His proclamation was coupled with a definitive swipe down his arm, grasping the ball of energy and installing it into reality. In his hand now coiled a nine-section whip tethered by neon green laser that ran through it and cut the edges of the leading dart. NO1SY was astounded.
      “You’re kidding…”
      Legoc let the whip unravel. “No I’m not. All Sentai Raiders can manifest a Power Weapon through the Sentai Power.” He began to spin the chain, faster and faster, until the weapon looked like a green disc and he was whipping up a veritable gale that NO1SY could feel buffet him. Then his fellow Raider struck out in a wide arc, sending a shockwave that immediately cut all of the enemies at their flank to dust. Legoc deftly redirected his whip’s dart back across himself with small manipulations of the laser chain to score a bullseye against a rushing attacker. The Spam Ninja’s head basically exploded off its shoulders.  “They are super strong force multipliers,” he explained.
      “YOU MEAN WE COULD HAVE BEEN FIGHTING WITH SUPER-POWERED WEAPONS THIS WHOLE TIME!?”
      The Green Raider shrugged, “I like the feeling of killing with my claws.”
      “BUT I DON’T HAVE CLAWS!” NO1SY knocked on the sides of his helmet in frustration. If it had vents he was sure they would be steaming. “OKAY. Okay… How do I do this then?”
      “Instinct.”
      “I will dunk you in that fountain, cat.”
      “No, really!” NO1SY paused before acting on his urge, Legoc continued, “if you focus, you will… feel the power around you. Your Sentai Bracelet gives you access, the rest should come naturally. You stream it through you to shape it into your weapon.”
      “But I don’t even know what my weapon is…”
      “You’ll know. It will simply feel natural when you draw on your own individual creativity with the power. Now, get to it or get back to punching, our exposition bubble is about to burst!” The Green Raider spun up his nine-section laser whip and readied his stance.
      NO1SY studied his Sentai Bracelet. It was a large and cumbersome-looking, mostly metallic contraption in the general shape of an elongated octagon. Weird tubes fed into its sides, and there was an overabundance of buttons, none of which NO1SY could even begin to guess the function of. Did he have to press any of them to ‘switch on’ his access to the power, or to ‘program’ his weapon? Who knows!? Usually he hated to attempt things without a relatively decent understanding of the fundamentals first, but, with the returning reality of a raging battle surrounding him, and a sigh for good measure, NO1SY resigned himself to the fact that he just did not have that luxury. Here goes nothing… he thought, and he went searching for the strange power.
      It started in his wrist, but soon wrapped his entire body. It felt like bathing in TV static. Or what he imagined that felt like. He became aware of a white glow contrasting against his black suit. It flickered, almost timidly, a few times, and NO1SY worriedly thought back to the journey over here, when it seemed like the - his - suit was on the fritz. Was something interfering with his channeling? But consistency returned in the next moments, before he felt the tingling power grow. He raised his hand and focused the power to his bracelet. He could feel the power moving, linking, compiling and shaping as it coursed through him. He could feel it reading and learning from the deepest reaches of his being as it passed. He felt a cold shudder down his spine. But the growing pressure around his wrist required his full attention. It took force from his other hand on his bicep to push his aloft arm down to level. The white ball of power had an almost digitized appearance as it floated above the bracelet. I hope… my… instincts don’t… give me a… dumb… weapon…
      NO1SY swiped down his arm and let his words flow.
      “POWER SPEAR! GO!”
      He grasped the bundle of power. In the infinitesimally minute moment of first contact, NO1SY was struck with awe at the utter immensity of the power from which he was allowed to draw just the tiniest trickle; the limitless potential that was the source of the creation of all things in MangaRaiders. The Tan Power. And then he was grasping the manifest shaft of his weapon, a spear of modern material with a sleek head edged with white lasers.
      His helmet hid his smirk and muffled his words:
      “Lets see how the little sh*ts like being the ones getting stabbed.”


      Oba-san was resisting the urge to pace. Instead, she settled for tapping her foot on the bare concrete floor as she surveyed the battle from her vantage. With the promise of immunity within MangaRaiders, The Clan had spared no time in expanding their operating base in the city, which had already industriously been built from an underground bunker into the skeleton of a grand tower. A brisk wind buffeted her on the exposed upper level, which still had no walls nor scaffolding to obscure her view, but she stood so stubbornly against it that barely a hair moved from where it was pinned on her head. She, like The Clan she represented, prided herself on being terribly well-rooted.
      Unfortunately, she had become more than a little shaken on the inside over the course of the night, grimacing at every flash of neon that sparked within the dark tide of her vast army. Despite initial reports that the Sentai Raiders only numbered a measly pair, three more of the gaudily-colored vermin had crawled out from the collapsing woodwork of the city and joined the battle. Five! Just five of these creatures against a legion of the most vicious and deadly Spam Ninjas bred on The Net, yet they refused to be crushed. The latest communications suggested that they were in possession of powerful advanced weaponry of unknown origin, which they were now using to actually push back against her forces. Preposterous... she rebuked internally and tepidly.
      “Bah!” She chided herself as she turned from the ledge. So they had some fancy glow-sticks; she had weapons of her own. The Clan had long since developed past its old, simple method: Throw more Spam Ninjas at it. Modern times called for devious plots and the hijacking of creative technologies. She snapped her fingers to summon her underling. “Bring it up,” she ordered the bowing man.
      As she waited, workers erected the support pillars to hold up the next floor up of the tower, and scaffolding began to be wrapped around the outside for the installation of the walls. She took pride in the industriousness of her underlings.
      The grating squeaks of an extremely heavy bulk on strained wheels announced the delivery of her request, as twelve workers guided it from the construction lift onto the concrete with considerable effort. They set the large device down with a heavy, metallic thunk. It was completely metal and shaped a little like a giant, rounded, high-backed throne out of the space age that stood four meters tall at its peak. Instead of a seat however, the heavy base was circular and deeply concave. Thick metal tubes coiled in and out of the outside of the device, four sockets for bulky cable attachments were equally spaced around the circular base, and an even larger port fed into the back of the device. This was the peak of Spam Ninja Clan technology. Extra workers accompanied the delivery crew; four dragging the ends of enormous cables that snaked out from a shaft in the corner that delved deep to siphon from the city’s grid, one carrying a briefcase, one carrying a large cylinder that contained something that glowed intensely white, and one more carrying a typical Spam Ninja Egg. The cables and canister were attached to their respective ports on the device. The men with the briefcase and the egg awaited further direction.
      Oba-san marched over and inspected the egg. It was the size of the worker’s torso and had been cleaned of the wiry, blue veins that usually spread and clamber around them in the nests, fully revealing the perfectly smooth, matte metallic, blue-grey shell. It was nearly fully matured. Yes, this will do nicely, she discerned. She provided a curt nod to the man holding it up for her, and he turned to take it over to the device, the basin of which had now been filled with the viscous, glowing liquid from the cylinder attached at the back. He placed the egg carefully into the gel-like substance, and watched it slowly submerge and suspend just beneath the surface.
      Meanwhile, Oba-san had opened the briefcase and extricated the large, long-needled syringe from within. She turned to hold the glass up against the light of the morning sun. A single black strand writhed and danced in an otherwise milky, translucent liquid. She grinned malevolently at the thought of the depths of the Dark Net that the little strand had been fished from, that such a small, hidden thing could precipitate such devastation when paired with The Clan’s spam.
      Not wishing to waste any more of the day, Oba-san strode with the syringe to the device that now cradled the egg in its glowing bath. The digital soup tumbled hypnotically, but too benignly, around it. Without hesitation, and almost betraying excitement, Oba-san drove the needle into the shell and ejected the malignant contents of the syringe inside. Then, without taking her eyes from the bath, she gave the nod that commanded her underlings to flip the large switch above each of the four cable ports on the device. They snapped down with a satisfying mechanical clank. Blue energy surged through the cables into the device, which began to whir, and the lights flickered out across the surrounding area of MangaRaiders City. The thick glowing liquid in the basin began to bubble lightly as in the background a few more dilapidated buildings crumbled.
      Then came the transformation. The liquid began to take on an inky blackness that permeated slowly and insidiously from the egg; its shell yellowing, then darkening to match. Larger bubbles belched forth from the viscous, tar-like fluid. The shell began to swell with boils, until even the blisters had blisters and the shape more closely resembled a growing tumor than an egg. As it grew it breached from the basin, absorbing the liquid that clung to its dark, rubbery exterior as it went. When it reached the top of the tall back of the device and looked like it was about to fall out from it, the shell split grotesquely and spilled forth its contents. Oba-san’s new minion.
      The troll was slimy and a dark, mottled green-black. It was a hunched, twisted thing, already wrapped in tattered, jet-black rags, but the virus coursing through it caused it to be in part formless; its skin spiked up and down sharply in constant motion. It clumsily tried to find its footing. It hacked and wheezed and drooled over the concrete, before settling into a jittering throaty growl. A black, sparking energy radiated around it and made one’s hairs stand on end. When it finally stood it was no taller than Oba-san was. It looked at her through beady little eyes that had been infected with new depths of stygian darkness, and were filled with hunger and malice.
      The maniacal laughter that erupted from the usually reserved woman startled the peons milling around - though they dare not drop anything nor stop their work. Oba-san flung out her arm, pointing out across the city towards the battle that raged on the defunct gallery street.
      “GO! Feed, my minion! FEED AND GROW! THEN OBLITERATE THOSE SENTAI RAIDERS! AHA-HA-HA-HAAAA!”
      The thing let loose a foul shriek, then leapt powerfully from the building into the waking city. Oba-san watched on through the last of the glass panes being installed on this story, as the virulent Troll bounded towards the fray.
      She raised a quivering hand to her mouth and regained her composure. Then she gave a quick appraisal of the space around her.
      Six more floors will do, I think.


      The final thug crumpled, cold as the unforgiving ground beneath him. It was supposed to have been one last hurrah to test his mettle before he returned to The Net and finally left behind the never-ending depths of this cyber-scape hell-hole. The dark, purple energy that thrummed from him dissipated, and he wondered about the worth of what he had found here. He had survived his gauntlet, faced his demons, and hardened himself for what was to come. Alone. And it was not until this moment that he had realized how utterly insufficient it all had been. How empty it had been.
      Fro turned slowly, his body no longer impeded by the deep burn scars that marred his skin from head to toe. His afro, finally having regained some length, bobbed with his motion.
      “You should not have followed me here,” he said, trying to convey a stern tone. But, damn me, I’m glad that you did.
      “What can I say? Ribbit! When I see a tear in reality I just have to hop through it. Especially after seeing a sorry excuse for a leader wander through it like an idiot zombie.” Greentrap sat nonchalantly on the corpses of the three thugs she had dispatched with an agility that Fro had not seen from the frog-person before.
      “Reckless, dangerous, and foolish,” reprimanded Fro, equally including himself. “The journey to the other side is chaos in and of itself, you must have all ended up scattered throughout The Dark Net, just as alone as I was.” Her response looked to be venomous, as she had proved to be now during the fight, but before she could speak a calmer voice interjected.
      “Now now Coach,” floated the voice with ghostly reverb from beneath Fortis’ thick scarf wrap, “even I cannot disagree with Greentrap’s ire in this instance. You left the AirBnB quite suspiciously that morning, when you had barely recovered. It was immediately evident that YOU were going to do something reckless, so naturally we decided to keep an eye on you.” The hooded skeleton man doused the blue flames in his eyes behind his signature sunglasses. It seemed that the weapons master had finally learned some magic; that ghostly fire had imbued his blades and bullets (now hidden away once more beneath his long black cloak) with haunting power.
      But Fro’s gaze was solely leveled on one other, bare-footed, individual, who held her clenched fists tight to her sides while her grey eyes stared into the ground. Her long silver hair framed her young face that was worryingly blank for all the emotion obviously swirling beneath the surface. In spite of all he had faced before, Fro was genuinely scared now. Her voice began as a murmur, but he knew exactly what words she spoke, for he had spoken them before.
      “Rule... number one of the MR Fighters Division: Fighters fight together… as a unit at all times.... No exceptions…” Then she let loose, practically screaming. “RULE NUMBER TWO: NEVER ABANDON A TEAMMATE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE!” Tears splattered the concrete in the midst of the numerous bodies that lay around her. She had defeated more foes than any of the others, including Fro. Her voice receded once more, “And... Rule n-number three... Never... b-betray a fellow t-teammate…” She looked up at him, unwaveringly into his eyes. “Why Mister Coach?”
      “Oh Filia. I had t-” he stopped himself. The time for selfishness was over, or what had been the point of coming here in the first place? Pushing aside his nerves, he strode forward to the girl, whose eyes had returned to staring holes into the floor, and knelt before her, so that their heads were level. He pulled her into a hug and held her until her sobbing subsided. Keeping a hand on her shoulder he stood and addressed his compatriots.
      “I have been a lousy leader and mentor, and it has taken me until now to truly understand why. Thank you, all of you.” The candidness put them off balance for a moment, but there was no strategy here. Fro bowed low to them, “Please forgive your stupid coach.”
      Greentrap shifted uncomfortably, “Well it turned out to be good training, so…”
      “It is good to have you back, Coach.” Fortis nodded.
      Fro felt a light tug on his sleeve. Filia held up a palm sized metal item to him. “I made it for you, from pieces of this place… to replace the one you lost…” Fro smiled for the first time in what felt like ages and accepted the gift. He slid the hair pick into his afro, at its current peak.
      “Alright, let’s get out of here. We have an Italian sailor to save!”


      The battle was going quite well, all things considered.
      With the addition of the new Sentai Raiders and the use of their weapons, the pressure on them had lessened enough to regain a level of fluidity and coordination, despite how exhausted they were. The Sentai team were even pulling off combo-moves, playing off each others’ strengths. Pink Raider Bobby and Blue Raider Op would take turns launching Spam Ninjas into the air like baseball batters, and Yellow Raider Suuper would pick off the floundering, defenseless little creatures with arrow after arrow. Black Raider NO1SY would use the reach of his spear to trip groups of them flat so that Bobby’s greatsword could come crashing down on them with ease. Op could use his adjustable staff to redirect Suuper’s arrows mid-flight into more devastating targets. And Legoc, clad in green, could round up bunches of ninjas with his whip and drag them in to be skewered on NO1SY’s spear tip.
      Legoc back-flipped away from a leaping sword swing that aimed at his neck, then shouted over to Bobby, “Pink, swing me!” He extended his nine-section whip out to her, which she grabbed the other end of and began to spin. Legoc swung round and round, and kicked out at the face of every Spam Ninja he could reach. It almost looked like he was running in a horizontal wheel of little black-wrapped bodies.
      “Gettingditz...dizzyhere!” complained the Pink Raider at the center. She let go of the whip and Legoc turned the momentum into a gyroscopic tumble of laser-whip and claws. Dead ninja dust rained to the ground around them. NO1SY and Op came to take a breather in the space that they had carved out for themselves. But then even Suuper hopped down from his perch on high to join them.
      “Erm guys…” said Yellow Raider, unnerved, “something weird’s likely, probably, definitely happening…”
      He was right. None of the ninjas from the wide circle charged at them like they were want to do before. Instead, they mostly stood still, once again staring blankly at the Sentai Raiders with their hateful, beady eyes. Then there was a disturbance from the south-east, deep within enemy lines, a shifting in the dark sea of bodies. The Ninjas in that direction began to draw back, slowly and always staring, and those on the other side parted and strafed around to follow. It was like the unnatural false retreat of water before a tsunami.
      “Oh no, no, no no no no…” muttered Legoc under his breath, “we aren’t ready…” NO1SY and Op shared a worried sideways glance beneath their visors (and mask).
      The thing grew in the distance of the street, but not only because it was drawing closer. It started like a mound, but then an appendage reached out like an arm dragging it forward. As it did, a handful of Spam Ninjas were absorbed into it, and the thing grew in size once more. The sea of foes was being sucked in as if by a sponge, and the little imps practically threw themselves onto the swelling blob. By the time it was the size of a townhouse, the amorphous creature was crawling, and when it reached the size of the larger galleries on the street it was lumbering on what approximated legs. The Sentai Raiders craned their necks as the creature peaked at the height of an office tower or the lower tiered highways of the city center. Legoc had seen larger - thankfully the number of Spam Ninjas available to feed it had been significantly reduced - but this was still a terrifying foe.
      The thing's “shoulders” broadened and its form and contours congealed into something more real; hideously sinuous and muscular. Its legs were small by comparison but still powerful. Its hands and feet formed and its nails sharpened into vicious points. Its skin looked rubbery, dark and mottled green and red. Gnarled spikes studded the thing’s neck, shoulders and back like stakes in a battlefield ditch. Long horns curved up from its forehead, whilst fangs lengthened to overlap at the sides of its maw, kept snarling by horizontal tusks. One tusk protruded like a razor from its chin. The only things that hadn’t changed were those malicious Spam Ninja eyes. As the last little ninja was sucked up off the street into the toe of the creature, the Kaiju let out a shrieking roar that rang out across the city and shattered what remained of the glass in the derelict buildings on the street. For good measure, and purely out of spiteful rage, it hammered its fist like a wrecking ball into a nearby structure, which cracked and crumbled away to dust. It turned its hateful visage upon the Raiders beneath it.
      Without their final team member - their Red Raider - Legoc knew; without the ability to form their ultimate weapon, they had no hope of winning.





As always, cheers for reading!

« Last Edit: October 31, 2022, 02:46:53 PM by NO1SY »

Offline Coryn

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Re: MR War Arc: MR Sentai Revival!
« Reply #14 on: October 25, 2021, 03:15:46 PM »
Congrats on posting NO1SY! Obviously I don't have anything to add past what I've already said during the edit, but always good to see the work progress here where it feels the most real and concrete!

Will review stories upon request. My latest arc: http://goo.gl/KYgsfF