Greetings. The Author decided that as long as he couldn't figure out a way to make this teaser section funny this time, he'd at least make it educational. Please take notes, there may be a pop quiz. Firstly, just in case anyone's wondering why this is being called a "teaser" when in Superguy posts the "teaser questions" go at the end, it's because in a television episode, the teaser is the bit of story before the opening credits. Just enough time for someone to get in deep trouble in some series. In the case of this series, the teaser lets the Author pad out his line count and use ideas that otherwise wouldn't make it as stories in themselves (like the dream sequence in #2). As you may have noticed, this time we're talking padding on a grand, even Burnsian, level. Now for the main lesson. The Triads. If you know about these guys pretty well, you can skip to the credits, but not everyone does. Be warned, though, that the following section will mix some pieces of reality, some bits of Hong Kong movie "reality" and some stuff I'm tweaking to fit the story. Formed during Mongolian rule of China, the first Triads were a secret political organization dedicate to the fall of the Manchus. The term "Triad" comes from the trinity of man, earth and spirit that was a big philosophical thing in China back then. Spiritual and numerological terms still riddle Triad organizational practices. The basic organizational scheme of a Triad has many ranks and priviledges, but for simplicity's sake, all you really need to know is who's a Big Brother and who's a Little Brother. Big Brothers are at the top, Little Brothers (or 49s) at the bottom. If you're in the middle somewhere, you may be both Big and Little depending on who you're talking to. The top guy may be called a Dragon Head or something equally flashy, but nowadays is usually just everyone's Big Brother. However, as most political groups are wont to do, the Triads were soon more of a criminal brotherhood with a little political rhetoric. The Manchus cracked down on them in the 1800s, and a lot fled to Hong Kong and the US. Those in the US took on the name of "Tongs," more about them in a bit. The Triads remaining in China enjoyed a renaissance during the first half of this century when they became allies to the republican government and the KMT. The overthrow of the Manchus by the republicans also pretty much removed the last vestiges of the original political motivation from the Triads. All this came crashing down in 1949 when the Communists took over. Most of the Triads crowded into Hong Kong, leading to bloody turf wars that took years to settle down. Meanwhile, the Tongs in the US had spent decades growing apart from the Triads. While some of the old ways were kept, the Tongs came to more closely resemble the Italian Mafia in terms of being the de facto civic authority in the Chinatowns. "Tong" means "community hall" in rough translation. Tongs were mainly into the vice trade in their early days, but have branched out now that vice is easier to get ahold of legally. Like the Triads, they tend to be very brutal and bloody in their dealings. Of course, 1997 is fast approaching. Hong Kong may not be totally plowed under when the PRoC takes over, but it certainly will not be able to sustain the current density of Triads. Some of the smaller Triad bosses, like my fictional Li Ning and Pei Man, have seen the writing on the wall and started setting up turfs in areas not concentrated on as much by the Tongs, like LA. But eventually the Tongs will have to set an example that upstart Triads can't just move in on their territory, not even the minor areas. And, of course, we'll be here to bring you the heroic bloodshed this involves. (Credit to Dark Champions, Feng Shui, and a few too many Chow Yun Fat movies for information.) ============================================================================= CRAZYPL LOTCRA AZYPLOT .|, COHERENT COMICS PRESENTS CRAZYP OTCR ZYPLOT ---X-------------------------------- CRAZYPLOTCRA OTCR LOTCRAZYPLOT '|` CRAZYPLOT LOTCR AZYPLOT CRAZYPLOT LOTCR LO ZYPLOT 36 CRAZY PLOTS CRAZYPLOTCRA OTCR LO ZYPLOT #4 - Second Plot: No One Quits! CRAZYP OTCR LO ZYPLOT by the Dvandroid CRAZYPL LOTCRA AZYPLOT CRAZYPLOTCRAZYPLOTCRAZYPLOTCRAZYPLOT (copyright 1996 by Dave Van Domelen) ============================================================================= [Brought to you by Futuro(TM) Wrist Braces - We let stupid Authors who don't know when to quit keep typing even after developing tendonitis!] This time, Jack decided he wasn't going to try to get into his apartment building stinking of rotting kim chee...Mrs. Cho had a NASTY broom technique. Nope, this time he'd shower off at the set first. Of course, it totally slipped his mind that he might want to avoid Steve and Kevin for a few days, and they were waiting outside the shower stall for him when he stepped out. Kevin tossed him a towel. "Okay, Jack...things have settled down for a while, Pei and Li have grudgingly agreed to let us pay each of them half the regular protection fee, and we'd like some answers." "About?" Jack asked, looking as innocent as he could. Steve poked Jack's bare chest. "About this. We saw you take half a dozen or more high caliber rounds in the chest. Even if you had the best bulletproof vest in the world on under that silk vest, you should still have bruises the size of CDs. But you look almost totally healthy, just a few yellow marks." "Would you believe I used the 'Turtle's Shell Stance' and the bullets bounced off?" Jack asked. Both shook their heads. "Too much blood sprayed out to have come from bloodpacks...at least as many bloodpacks as you could have kept hidden like that," Steve replied. Jack sighed and dried his hair to keep from looking at their stares for a moment. "Look, guys," he started, tossing the towel into the wash bin, "this may sound crazy, but I guess it'll come out eventually if I keep doing stunt work. Can I trust you to keep a secret?" "As much as anyone in this town, maybe a bit more," Kevin said. "That's comforting," Jack sighed. "Okay, it's like this. I'm a superguy. I heal really quick, and as far as I know, no mundane force can kill me, although I can be...inconvenienced. I am an immortal." Suddenly the door burst open. A man in a trenchcoat pulled out a wavy-bladed flamberge and said in a raspy voice, "There can be only one!" "Oh, shut up," Steve snarled as he stepped on the actuator button for the hydraulic ram which just happened to be set up just inside the door to the showers (go figure). "WAAARrrrghhh..." screamed the blond man as he smashed through the roof and flew over the set, landing in a garbage truck heading for the docks. "Sorry," shrugged Steve. "Just some things you shouldn't go around saying on a movie set. Kinda like the Scottish Play around stage actors." "Okay," Jack grinned. "Anyway, I'm tired and hungry, I'm going home to get something to eat. Please, try not to take undue advantage of my abilities in setting up stunts...just because I can survive having my head lopped off doesn't mean I want to find out how it feels." * * * * Jack looked around. His stomach was growling, and he'd decided not to wait until he got home to get some dinner. Thing was, while he knew the neighborhood around the set pretty well and the area around his apartment, he wasn't too familiar with the territory inbetween. He was pretty sure there was a non-chain restaurant around here somewhere. Jack didn't really care for mass-produced food, but if he couldn't find anything else soon, he'd have to hold his nose and eat at that Greasy Spoonman place he'd spotted a few blocks back. Maybe down this alley...some of the crew'd told him the really good places weren't on the street. Suddenly he heard a noise behind him, of someone dropping to the ground between him and the alley's entrance. A lilting brogue came from behind him, beautiful and menacing at the same time. Scottish, maybe Irish...Jack wasn't good at placing Euro accents yet. "Huntin' for something?" she asked. Jack turned about slowly, figuring that if she hadn't attacked yet he had time to play it cool. "Maybe..." was his coy reply. She was a short, trim, powerfully muscled redhead, and her stance told Jack instantly that she came by her figure not from just lifting weights in a gym, but from serious martial arts discipline. If her technique was all this good, she'd easily be the best western practitioner of kung fu he'd seen so far. "Yuir hunt, and yuir life, ends here with me, lad," she snarled. Even now, her voice seemed to be perfectly modulated and controlled, not a growly scratching that most people had when they snarled. Jack scratched his head and bashfully turned away. "Maybe if I was hunting a wife, pretty lady," he grinned. And it wasn't all dissembling, either...she wasn't that bad looking, even with the muscles. But his stomach felt like he'd swallowed a porcupine, and she didn't seem interested in going out to eat together anyway. She wasn't buying it, and stayed at the ready. Even with his back turned, he could feel her eyes boring into him. "If ye won't turn and face me, so be it. I've got nae problem wi' striking a man from behind." The wind whistled as she threw a kick, but Jack was already on his stomach, ducking below a kick she'd expected him to try and jump over. Flipping over, he swept her legs out from under her, but she tucked in and rolled back to her feet before he could press any advantage. "I was wondering when ye'd show some spirit," she purred, keeping just out of kicking range. "But ye don't stand a chance...yuir a good fighter, but yuir chi is nae focused. I c'n see it in yuir aura." Not good. Jack hadn't learned any of the more mystical techniques from his father, and this woman apparently was at least familiar with them. She couldn't kill him, of course, but she could beat him so badly he wouldn't be able to move for a week. He'd have to take her down fast, before she could.... "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!" she screamed, the tone pure and unwavering. Jack staggered back, feeling his legs go a little rubbery at the infernal sound. She advanced, striking directly at him with a move that even an amateur could block. Not a problem for Jack, regardless of any disorientation he might be feeling. CRUNCH! Her fist slammed into his forearm like an iron bar! Jack reeled back in pain, clutching the shattered bones and holding them in place while they started to knit together. The scream stopped, and she stood there smugly. "That's only a taste o' what I c'n do, lad. Tell yuir gods the Ben Sidhe sent you to yuir reward." "Ban Shi? My Japanese is a little rusty," Jack mumbled, rambling to buy him time to heal. "Still, I get the 'Death' part, kinda impressive name." "No, ye fool! The Ben Sidhe, whose wail brings death! AAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" the scream started again, louder than before. It was like the shout you make when striking, only she held it for longer than Jack thought was humanly possible. And the side effect was making him dizzy and weak. If there'd been anything in his stomach, he might have lost it right there. Jack barely ducked her next few blows, using Drunken Crane With Broken Wing Kung Fu, but his concentration was too rattled by her cry to even properly use a Drunken style. There was only one option left, and if it didn't work...well, at least she'd take him down more quickly. Jack started to stagger even more wildly, and his eyes glazed over. "Like, babe, like, wow..." he mumbled, as he fell below one punch and tripped over a kick. Then, with a sudden movement that Ben Sidhe wasn't expecting, Jack lurched upwards and grabbed at her, ah, chest. "Like, rock hard, y'know..." he cooed. "You pervert!" she shouted, smashing him across the face. But he barely felt it, since she'd had to stop her Chi yell to speak. He grinned wildly. "Blossoming Dragon Claw Fist Strike!" he shouted, driving his rapidly-opening fist into her throat, paralyzing her vocal chords for at least a minute. Her flesh was no longer iron hard, thanks to his successful use of the Stoned Invid Style Kung Fu. He'd scoffed when father taught it to him, seeing little use at the time for a style that was drunker than Drunken and which concentrated on rather specialized grabs and holds. But now he was glad he'd learned it. Favoring his broken arm slightly, Jack laid into his opponent, knocking her unconscious in only a few strikes. Obviously, she had gotten too dependent on her Chi powers, and had let her basic skills slip. Jack didn't want to kill her, but he couldn't let her roam free once she woke up, since she'd probably come after him again...and wouldn't be gotten by the same trick twice. But what to tie her up with? Then Jack's eye fell on a nearby storefront shop specializing in leather goods. A quick scene change later, and he left his hunter hanging bound hand and foot from a fire escape, with a ball gag in her mouth. The porcupine in his stomach kicked a few times, and Jack returned to his search for a good restaurant. He'd worry about which Triad boss sent her to kill him after dinner. * * * * "Never heard of her," Steve said as he got the nighttime stunt set up. "I'm not really an expert on superhuman hitmen, Jack." "Drat," Jack spat, looking around to spot Jimmy Rip. Now that they'd shifted the focus of the movie onto the "Crazy Guy" character invented for the big gun battle, they had to reshoot a few transitional scenes. Not too much needed to be changed, which was a testament to the thinness of the movie's plot. "It'd really move things along if we had some kind of 'knows-everything-about-the-local-Triads' supporting cast member." "Yeah, well, we're over budget as it is. About the only one who's even close to hooked into the scene is Rip, and I think he's making up half the stuff we're using for the movie." Jack sighed and pulled on his mask. He'd be doing the stunt first, and then they'd shoot the other scenes around where things fell. Jack staggered forward as something whizzed through the air and hit him in the back. "GAH!" "ELVIS," Steve gasped. "There's a hatchet in your back!" "Ack...and...wouldn't you know...it's in that part you can...never reach..." Jack wheezed. He could feel his left lung filling with fluid and coughed up a bloody gob. "Pull it out!" he managed to say. Steve paused for a moment, then pulled out the hatchet with obvious distaste. "I hate this part of stuntwork..." he muttered. People were starting to notice something amiss. Jack grabbed the hatchet and turned around, hacking it into his rucksack and spreading the blood around. Steve goggled as the wound slowly closed on Jack's back. "What happened?" "Is he all right?" "Ew, blood!" came the cries as people rushed over. Jack branished the hatchet. "Someone threw this at me, but my bag was in the way, just nicked me," he said, trying to stifle another blood cough. "Guess whoever hired that lady to kill me sent a backup." Jimmy Rip stepped forward and grabbed the hatchet, looking at it in consternation. Then he pulled off his Crazy Guy mask. "No, Jack, this one was meant for me...the local Triads may want you dead, but this is a Tong job." IS THIS A TONG JOB? I THOUGHT IT WAS A HATCHET. OW. WAS JIMMY THE REAL TARGET THIS TIME? WAS BEN SIDHE AFTER JIMMY TOO? DOES IT MATTER, SO LONG AS PEOPLE TRY TO KILL EACH OTHER AND PROVIDE LOTS OF CONFLICT FOR THE SERIES? WHO CAN'T QUIT? ASIDE FROM THE AUTHOR, WHO MUST BE REALLY CRAZY TO BE TYPING THIS BEFORE HE'S SURE HIS WRISTS ARE BETTER.... CAN THERE BE ONLY ONE? SOME OF THIS AND MAYBE A FUNNY TEASER, NEXT TIME ON...SUPERGUY!