From Sailor Moon Flash!
| Featuring: | Tacey, Misao, Binshou |
| IC Date: | May 2002 |
| Status: | In Progress |
| Summary: | In a chance meeting at the Sony Building, Misao and Binshou experience first-hand the epic destruction of Tacey vs. sales clerks. |
Tacey didn't like venturing into public. There were people in public. As well as dogs and squirrels and... Just about anything you could imagine, really. Public had too many variables, and as any scientist knew, you were supposed to keep variables to a minimum.
But public was where supplies were, and Tacey needed supplies. She'd run through most of the delivery services in town. The only option left to her was venturing outside herself. She could randomly use various delivery services, of course, but it was good to be unpredictable. Routines led to sabotage.
And so the young woman found herself in Ginza. It had been a stretch for her to even ask for a recommendation of a place to shop, but she didn't like phone books. Six out of ten strangers had agreed she should go to Akihabara, so she had gone where the other four had recommended: Ginza.
And in Ginza she found herself, surrounded by Japanese people, listening to the language being jabbered around her. She hadn't ventured out into public since she'd had to brave the bus ride from the airport to JDE, and it amazed her again that despite how well she'd done studying the language, she could only pick up bits and pieces of what was happening around her. Slang corrupted every language, it seemed, she thought to herself with a sigh.
She located the section she needed without any problem; big signs in the Sony Building proclaimed in multiple languages what section she was wandering into. Beyond there, nothing seemed to be labeled... At least, not where Tacey could find labels. Perhaps they put them in different places than they did in Australia. Either way, she was forced to resort to that unholiest of all terrors: a salesclerk.
"I need a memory board," she said simply, in rather formal Japanese to the clerk she had managed to catch.
Evidently he recognized her as a foreigner, either from her accent or the slightly outmoded way he spoke. But he only succeeded in annoying her as he spoke in very basic Japanese. "Oh, no, replacing a memory board is very hard to do, miss! You might as well replace your entire computer," he explained in the overly cheerful manner universal to salespeople everywhere. "But we have just the thing, if you'll come look at our pre-built computers," he began, attempting to lead her towards the display.
Tacey remained rooted to the spot. "No," she said firmly. "I do not need a new computer. I need a new memory board." Her custom-built computer was no match for even the highest of the computers on display, and she had no desire to start from scratch again.
"Oh, but miss!" he objected, flashing her what to most girls and women would have been a charming smile. Tacey simply looked blankly at him. "A new laptop would be just the thing for a modern girl-on-the-go like yourself! And our new range of colors can even match your hair and eyes," he told her with a wink.
The woman gritted her teeth. "Girl on the go?" she repeated rather acidly. Where did men get off acting like she was a ditz simply because she'd asked a question? "I need to upgrade my memory board," she repeated yet again, beginning to feel like a broken record. Who didn't want her getting a memory board, for gods' sake? "I do not need a laptop, I do not want a laptop, and I certainly wouldn't buy one because it matched my eye color."
The clerk chuckled, apparently amused by her. Tacey tried not to clench her hands into fists. "Perhaps your boyfriend told you that you needed a memory board?" He lowered his tone conspiratorially. "Most men like to pretend they know about computers, but you should really consult an expert, miss."
"Fine," she snapped. "Bring one." She held up a hand as he started to speak up again. "No. I do not want to speak to some kid trying to make his commissions cut. Let me speak to someone who actually knows what the hell they're talking about. Now." She officially hated all men. If she didn't distrust other women, too, she'd be sympathizing with the women's lib movement right about now.
Misao peered at another salesclerk on the other side of the store. She didn't quite understand how "I would like a new cell phone case" had come out as "Please show me everything that is made of pink plastic and festooned with cartoon animals that makes high-pitched jingling noises". But it evidently had, judging by the young woman's display of cases arrayed on top of the counter.
"Er... do you have anything... sturdier?" she asked, finally. She didn't want to offend her, but this was faintly ridiculous. "You see, I work with children, and if they get into my purse, well..."
"Of course, miss," the clerk said frostily. "Perhaps you would prefer to browse on your own." And with the utmost politeness, she took the cases away and set off to find a more easily swayed customer. Misao sighed and turned away. Browsing didn't seem like a bad idea. After all, she had been wanting to look at some of those cute little handheld computers to see if she could use one for scheduling and classes, and now she had the perfect excuse to wander to that side of the store. Maybe those clerks were more helpful.
TKO
The letters flashed bright red across the screen where Binshou's avatar lay dead and defeated, body on the right-hand side, head on the left. "Total knock-out" was, he thought, putting it mildly. The older boy next to him laughed and elbowed him in the side. "Just like during practice, right Susuki-kun?"
"Um... not quite," he answered with a grimace. Thankfully, he had yet to be decapitated during a juudou team meet, but the analogy was clear. He just didn't want to admit it -- not with the rest of the team clustered around him and his captain, jostling each other and waiting for the next exchange of virtual blows. In fact, they should have been in the school gym and practicing the real thing. Instead, the school festival committee was working in the gym, and the Chuo Gakuen juudou club was slumming around in Ginza. The captain called it "building personal bonds outside of the sporting arena". The rest of the team called it "a day off".
Binshou called it "awkward".
"Want to give it another go, Susuki-kun?" the captain asked.
"Um, actually, I'll be right back. Please excuse me."
Another team member immediately slid forward to take his place, and Binshou knew he wouldn't be missed for a while if he were to wander off on his own. First, though, he decided to make his way to the restroom.
More accurately, he decided to make his way to the restroom four floors down.
Tacey had progressed from every stage between vaguely annoyed and substantially angry. She was now working her way up to extremely pissed, and there wasn't a soul around her who couldn't tell.
"I want to speak to a manger," she declared in an extremely tight, cold voice that no one could mistake for being pleasant. "No more salespeople, no more 'technical experts'... I do not want to upgrade my RAM, I do not want to purchase a scanner, I do not want a PDA. I. Want. A. Memory. Board," she stated, glaring at her original salesperson, the older salesman he'd gone to get, and the senior associate. "I want to know what the hell is wrong with this store that you'd all assume that I don't know what I want. I am a fully grown woman, and I am perfectly capable of making a purchase, and I don't give a damn if you think it's not a good purchase or not!"
Her voice had barely risen, but her control had started to strain. And as anyone working at Jade Dragon Enterprises unwittingly knew, bad things happened when an Elemental's patience had been strained.
In a five foot radius around her, every electronic thing began flashing up error signals, searching for suddenly non-existent files. Simulations and display units shut down, and there was a sudden flurry of activity as associates rushed to get them back online... and failed utterly.
Tacey ignored the chaos. "Now, where is that manager?"
Misao set down the handheld computer and decided that today wasn't the day for her to get another organizer. Pen and paper would suffice. Besides, the clerks over here were even more condescending, if that was possible. She wandered over towards the PC display area, remembering that her family's computer could use a new set of speakers, and Otou-san had been making noises about upgrading to a new computer for her birthday. It wouldn't hurt to look, surely.
Or would it? Misao paused as she turned a corner and was presented with a chaotic scene: row upon row of malfunctioning computers, harried sales clerks trying frantically to stop the machines from committing ritual suicide, and a woman who looked like a sleep-deprived tourist in the center of it all, seemingly ready to put her fist through a screen.
The display of keyboard wrist supports suddenly seemed very interesting, and Misao turned and studied them, waiting for everything to calm down before she started browsing any closer.
Binshou moved at a very leisurely pace towards the elevator, down four floors, and across the hall to the farthest restroom in the building. It wasn’t that he disliked the other members of the juudou club, but time away from the rowdy group came as something as a relief. He didn't even have to use the facilities, but for the sake of appearances he reached out his hand to push the door open and-- "OOF. Please excuse me."
It was an automatic response, and in forming it, his brain wasted a precious half a second in registering who he'd bumped into.
"Susuki-kun, what are you doing down here?" asked the vice-captain of the juudou team.
"Munekawa-senpai? I--"
"Can you believe I had to come all the way down to the second floor? The other bathroom was packed."
Binshou was never really certain whether his senior classmate liked rhetorical questions, or was simply so impatient to hear the sound of his own voice that he couldn't wait for a reply.
"It's okay, though," he continued, "That game was pretty boring anyway. But then, I'm not a fan of Playstation myself. Personal computers are so much better! Did you come down here to check them out?"
"Well--"
"Great idea, I'll go with you. C'mon! You wouldn't believe the machine I have at home. I put most of it together myself, and the memory..."
Allowing himself to be pulled along by the arm, Binshou pretended to follow Munekawa's dissertation and nodded politely at what seemed to be key points. His senpai was so enjoying the one-sided conversation that Binshou stumbled in surprise when he stopped mid-sentence. Something had caught Munekawa's attention. Most likely it was the sparks flying from the computers in the showroom.
"Amateurs," he remarked in disgust. "You'd think such a successful company could afford to staff sales clerks that know what they're doing. I'll see if I can help them clear this mess up." Binshou noticed him push out his chest a little, as if he'd just won a juudou match. "Stay here, Susuki-kun, I'll be right back." He let go of Binshou's arm and made for the nearest display.
Unsure of exactly why he'd been instructed to stay put, Binshou shifted uncomfortably in place and looked around. Most customers had moved to the opposite side of the building, or gone to another floor altogether. Malfunctioning displays didn't exactly inspire consumer confidence, he supposed.
The nearest customer, he noticed, was a girl with green bangs that looked just as out of place as he did (or at least came close). Although he really didn't mean to, he found himself staring as something clicked in his brain, something that said "vaguely familiar". She turned towards him and Binshou quickly looked away, cheeks burning. At that moment, he was of the opinion that there was nothing worse than being caught staring.
Tacey didn't notice that there were multiple people staring at her, let alone one particular person. She'd turned to see the teenager approaching, hailing the clerk in that particularly annoying tone of confidence she associated with morons who hadn't a clue how to reformat their hard drive, let alone rewire it.
And while the supposed Teenage Wonder began arguing with the clerk about the best way to fix the sudden circuitry overload surrounding them, Tacey found herself ignored. Yet again.
Several computers in her nearby vicinity began to hum ominously, at least those that weren't already sparking. In a further attempt to clue in the idiots surrounding her that something was seriously wrong, she stretched out a tendril of power to the mp3 players on display, and set all of them to play the Imperial March through their headphones.
"You can't even control your equipment, and you're trying to tell me what I want to buy?" Tacey asked pointedly of the clerk, as a floor manager finally hurried on to the scene.
This was definitely strange. Misao didn't know much about computers, but she was sure that they weren't supposed to send off sparks. Nor were they supposed to hum like that, she decided, as the clerks scurried frantically around.
She flinched as all of the mp3 players began to play, the music muted and tinny through the headphones. She glanced back at the young man who'd caught her eye before, and smiled helplessly.
"Perhaps today is not the day to buy a computer," she noted, nodding slightly at the sparking computers. Taking a step back from the displays -- and closer to the blushing boy -- she added, "Is your friend going to be able to help? I don't think that manager thinks much of him."
"That's all right, he thinks plenty of himself," noted Binshou, while having the good grace to look embarrassed at the bluntness of his remark. He couldn't, however, keep from smiling when the girl laughed. It seemed as good a time as any to introduce himself. "I'm Susuki Binshou."
"Shizenkai Misao, pleased to meet you!"
"Likewise!"
"You attend Chuo Gakuen?" she asked, noting his uniform. "I graduated from there myself."
"Really?" Binshou supposed it must have been recently, as she looked rather young, though he was not forward enough to say so. "Were you in any clubs?"
Before Misao could answer, there was an interruption from behind. "Excuse me!"
They both turned to see a suave and energetic looking fellow with a microphone approaching them, followed by a taller man carrying a television camera considerably larger than anything they sold in the building. The man with the microphone snapped his fingers in triumph. "Yes! You two have the perfect look! Very clean-cut. Are you on a date?"
Binshou looked perplexed. Misao opened her mouth to answer, but the man waved her off dismissively before she could get a word out. "It doesn't really matter, it'll work anyway. Could you read something on-camera for our show? It's for a segment called 'Extreme Confessions': viewers send in letters of their most scandalous and detailed confessions, and we get people to read them cold on camera and get their reaction shots. We've got two great letters here from an unfaithful couple! Would you read them?"
Without waiting for an answer, he handed them each a piece of paper and signaled to the camera man. "We're filming live. Don't let us down!"
The camera's red "record" light turned on, and in the same instant Binshou froze as he realized that thousands of people were watching him at that moment. Misao noticed his discomfort, and was about to tell the man with the microphone politely but firmly that they were not interested in reading any letters, when there was yet another interruption.
"Susuki-kun!" It was Munekawa, waving exaggeratedly at his teammate. Clearly he had seen the camera, and realized that he had a chance to project the sound of his amazing, knowledgeable-sounding voice to the whole of Tokyo. Binshou turned to regard his associate not twenty feet away, hoping that he'd come over and read the letter instead. The camera followed his gaze, focusing on Munekawa, the floor manager, the harried sales clerk and the irate gaijin.
"What's with all the computers?" the cameraman asked no one in particular.
The first indication Tacey had that something was terribly, terribly wrong was of the snotty schoolboy leaving. He'd been having a grand time acting superior and tossing around suggestions, and generally acting like a prat; she'd had a hard time not calling out one of her robots to pin him to the floor. When he left, though, she went on alert; the only thing that could have torn him away was something he considered even more interesting. Then she saw them: the TV cameras.
They were facing right at her, she was sure of it. There was no little voice of logic to point out the crew t-shirts and teenage population that showed this was not a news channel, but a sensationalist show, and that they likely weren't here because of her... Even if they were there because of the current chaos, there was no reason for anyone to suspect that she was at the center of it. Tacey was still convinced that now her face was going to be broadcast all over the news, and everyone would know who she was and what she could do, and where to find her. She had to do something, fast.
Rather red in the face, Tacey began to methodically pass a strong electromagnetic field over each electronic device she could sense. Cell phones, video recorders, and computers all went blank, unable to suddenly find any information whatsoever. She was dead silent in the chaos, her hands clenching slightly as she worked.
The cameraman cursed as his camera died. No beeps of malfunction, no noises; it just stopped.
"What's going on? Don't you realize we were broadcasting live?" asked the man with the microphone, losing a bit of his suave calm.
"I don't know! It's dead!"
As the pair of television flunkies began to argue with each other, Misao took Binshou's arm and slowly edged away from them.
"Well! That was lucky," she said, crumpling the letter in her hand and shoving it in her purse, so that she could throw it away later. "Susuki-san, was it? Ah... do you know that young man?" Misao asked. She gestured at the high-schooler, then paused as her glance passed over the foreigner standing near him.
"I wonder if she's all right," Misao wondered absently. The woman was turning an alarming shade of crimson, and she seemed to be spasming slightly. Perhaps it was some sort of fit? Misao moved towards the small crowd, drawn by curiosity and a desire to see if there was any way she could help.
Binshou crept along after her, on the suspicion that she might need backup. Munekawa was engaged with the camera crew, no doubt hoping they'd put him on the show if he fixed their equipment. The staff had found countless other ways to occupy themselves, their shelves being filled with kamikaze merchandise. The strange woman was alone in the crowd, and though he wouldn't mind letting her stay that way, Shizenkai-san was a much more conscientious citizen.
He took a moment to discretely pull his cell phone out and check the time, and saw that the phone had died. Odd, as he thought he remembered the batteries being full not a half hour ago. His stomach gave a melodramatic lurch, and on instinct he pulled Betty out of his pocket. She wouldn't start up, no matter how insistently he pushed the "on" button.
There was enough restraint in Binshou to repress the horrified scream trying to get out, but the look of deep concern on his face as he hovered behind Misao was genuine.
"Excuse me, miss?" She addressed the foreign woman in a soothing voice. "Are you alright? You look ill."
Most people were automatically avoiding Tacey, so she was rather surprised when she heard a voice behind her. The woman turned around slowly to look at the girl speaking to her, her expression skeptical. Why was this girl speaking to her? Just because she was the only calm person in the store, standing in the center of destruction and chaos was no reason to focus on her!
"What," Tacey began slowly, her eyes flickering between the girl and the boy just behind her, who looked very reassuringly nervous to her, "do you want?"
Misao tried to ignore the feeling of something crawling up and down her spine, and smiled in the way she would with a child throwing a tantrum.
"I'm sorry if I'm bothering you," she began, "But I saw you standing here, and thought you looked a bit... er, that is, I wanted to make sure you were all right. And to ask if you needed assistance in leaving the store -- perhaps we could find you somewhere quiet to sit down?" When she used the plural pronoun, Misao glanced back over her shoulder at Binshou, shooting him a gaze that asked plainly for help. Screaming children were one thing, but this was quite outside of her realm of experience.
"Um," he murmured, still looking at Misao. "Um, well..." He turned his gaze to Tacey, and hoped that if he didn’t sound confident, he at least sounded like he was trying. "She’s right. Your convulsing may be symptomatic of a paroxysmal attack and you should probably sit down. Especially if you’re feeling any numbness. Even if you’re not feeling any numbness. If you should spasm violently while you’re standing up you could fall and injure yourself and start bleeding all over and require stitches and maybe even a blood transfusion and that would just be, uh, horrible."
He held eye contact with the woman for as long as he could, sincere if not also flustered.
"I am not," Tacey began slowly, in perfect if overly formal Japanese, "convulsing. I do not feel numb. I am not going to spasm, fall over, bleed everywhere, or require stitches. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
She had no idea that her arms and hands were indeed shaking with the strain of keeping them still, that her fists clenched and her set expression made her look ill. All she knew was that people kept approaching her, when all she wanted was to be left alone.
"Susuki-san may have overstated things somewhat," Misao said, her voice smooth and soothing as a bowl of vanilla ice cream. "But you do look rather unwell. If we could just help you to find a place where you could rest for a moment? Or even just get out of the crowd and find somewhere quiet?" She meant well, she honestly did. This woman looked sick, and as if she really was going to fall over and go into spasms.
With a kind smile on her face, Misao placed one hand on the woman's arm just above the elbow. Her touch was light enough to be nonthreatening, but she was ready to offer support if it was needed.
to be continued
