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Prologue 2 - The Ninja |
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Ahh, weekends. Whilst a ninja is never
truly off-duty, it is still nice to not have to go into the
office. Plus I get to sleep in a little later than normal.
Now I know what you're going to say. "But Mr Ninja,
sir, ninja don't actually sleep." Well, you're kind of
right I guess. We prefer to use extremely deep meditation
rather than true sleep. This way, much like the fighting
dolphin of Kobetonga, we can stay alert to any intruders
whilst still getting refreshed. I "sleep" in a variety of
places, so as not to allow my enemies a chance to plan an
attack. The last place you should bother checking is a ninja's
bed. There's only one thing that it is used for, and that's
something those Shaolin "no sex please, we have taken a vow of
chastity" monks will never own up to. "Vow of chastity" my
arse! We all know what the abbot does with his young diciples
to while away the hours. Big faggy beardy soft-as-shite
yellow-trousers-wearing pajama-plunderers, the lot of
'em. |
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By the way ladies - if you think jumping
backwards up into a tree is cool, you should see the stuff a
ninja master can do in the sack. Our "ancient secrets" aren't
all about warfare, you know. My "boshi ken" is
powerful! It's a little known fact that Sun Tzu was a bit
of a devil with the geishas. When he was seen by his enemies
on the battle-field, the men shat their pants whilst the women
stepped out of theirs. |
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So anyway, I got changed out of my
ninjamas and brushed my teeth before heading down the shops
for some milk and bread. I try not to keep anything much in my
fridge in case someone poisons it. Mind you, with the age of
some of the things in my fridge it would be a brave man indeed
who would open one of the containers to poison the contents.
There's a translucent bowl in the back that seems to be
growing a kidney. Mysterious dark shapes bulge unpleasantly
behind the milky white plastic. I plan to use it as a ranged
weapon of some sort in the future. I flip quickly onto the
roof and make my way to the local 7-11. RV-583, the robot who
lives next door, is in his shed banging away at something. I
have this vague feeling it's his wife. Sometimes I wonder
what it would be like to travel along the footpath on a whim
like everyone else. There must be a small thrill to be had by
people as they casually saunter, whenever they choose, along a
surface designed for increased balance. Still, I chose the
ninja lifestyle and am bound by their rules - uneven roof
tiles and tree branches are my standard travel
surface. Luckily the shops are only a few roofs away so it
takes less than a minute. I land lightly next to one of their
air-con ducts and quietly lift the cover, slipping quickly
into the blackness within. |
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Having secured the goods I made my way
back out the way I'd came. The deft use of a smoke bomb made
sure no-one was any the wiser. Were there 4 loaves of Baker's
Priapism Multigrain left or just 3? With a ninja in your
midst, who can be sure? You know, I wonder if anyone's done
a study of these smokebombs? Sure, they're made from
all-natural ingredients like female hyena phallus, spider
eyes, and ethylene-1,4-cyclohexylene dimethylene terephthalate
copolymers, but do you think they could cause cancer or
something? I should probably bring it up at the next
meeting. So I drop my stuff off at home and go sit on the
roof. I'm sure you've seen this sort of thing in movies or
anime - some enigmatic ninja is squatting on the roof or in a
tree, silently watching things unfold. I'm hoping to catch
sight of this furtive peeping tom I've heard about. It's been
in all the papers - some mysterious hooded figure that peers
in through people's windows whilst pleasuring himself. Some
sad pervert that would be best locked away, I'm sure. So,
I'm scanning the neighbourhood. I've got my katana by my side
and am using the time to polish the handle. |
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I notice that Janelle down the road is
sunbathing in her backyard again. But I don't let this
distract me from my mission for too long. Just then I notice a
sports car pull up at the shops and a guy in a Hawaiian shirt
gets out. Haven't seen the car around here before, so I think
it worthy of further investigation. A few quick jumps later
and I'm at a much better vantage point. The number plate on
the car read "CH4D", which didn't bode well. He came back out
of the shops with a bottle of Coke and some other stuff in a
bag. I was going to go back to my roof when he yelled
something out to the cashier in the shop. He was an
American!
Now, I'm no racist but we all know that
Americans are all borderline sex offenders at best. I've seen
enough episodes of CSI to know the kinds of shit they do in
their own country, let alone what they do here. All we need is
some drug-dealing psychopath moving into the
neighbourhood. It was at that point I knew I'd found the
peeping tom. It all made perfect sense. I had to find out
where he lived. I couldn't hang underneath the car - not
enough ground clearance. I'd have to do this the old-fashioned
way. Legs - do your stuff! He was quick, I'll give him
that. However, I was able to use the roofs so could avoid
traffic lights, plus I'm a ninja. If you read something that
sounds unlikely, just keep telling yourself that last thing.
It's the answer to most questions. Eventually I watch him
pull into a wild-looking place up on Groyn Lane. There's a
heap of trees along the back so I nip in there to check out
the situation. Who knows, he could have guard dogs or laser
killbots stalking the grounds. Lucky for me I checked, as
it turned out he had a robot guard wombat. |
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These feisty little fellas can be quite a
handful. Don't ever let their shuffling gait fool you - they
can get up to quite a decent speed and the last thing you want
is to be butted by one of these 150kg monsters. Mind you, you
don't really want them to start targetting you with their
weapon systems, either. So rather than muck around trying
to avoid the darned thing I just did what any ninja would do -
took the little bugger out. I didn't think it worth flipping
out and chopping it up with my katana so I went with the old
bow and arrow. Nice ranged attack, quiet, and effective when
in the hands of a trained practitioner. And guess what? I'm a
trained practitioner. This is probably a good time to teach
you amateur ninjas out there a thing or two that may save your
arse in the field. Robots don't give a damn that your
arrowheads have been lovingly polished over many weeks, that
they have been beaten and folded so many times they are
stronger than titanium. You see, these bleeders are designed
to take that sort of punishment. Anyone with a robotic guard
animal is expecting unusual
trespassers. If all you expect is drunken rednecks who think
your shit would look better in their house then
you'd just get an alarm or a cop-wannabe earning minimum wage
to walk around your garden all night. So, make sure you
have suitable replacement arrowheads to match your target. For
robots I recommend either high explosive or EMP, the latter is
obviously quieter.
I'd just taken the wombot out when
someone else approached the house. Two guys, one looking a
little ill, were sidling up to a window, and not being too
stealthy about it. They spent a few seconds peering in through
the grimy window when the sick-looking one suddenly turns
around and I swear he was looking right at me! I
know, hard to believe. There's a brief exchange, during
which I try to become even more hidden, and they hastily make
their way back to the road and away. It seems this CH4D
fellow has some other people interested in his activities.
Perhaps my enemy's enemy would be my friend? |
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