A Tadpole Again

[DoF Archive]

Date: 2/9/1999 12:12 PM Central Daylight Time
From: ArcIite


His last assignment in a joint venture with GSG-9 and Mossad had been a horrid cluster of idiots that had finally put Thomas over the edge.
Thomas Garrison, Codename: Arclite, former member of the elite Navy SEALS and now freelance intelligence operations consultant(A polite title for paid kicker of tango ass) decided it was time to take a break. He was disgusted by the prevalent mammyrammer attitude in the Western intelligence commissions, and had risked his posterior far to many times for them on half ass intel and poor support.
He cut off his contacts within the Department of Justice and Defense with a characteristic flying bird for most of them, doing the likewise in nearly the same day with his CIA liasons and their european counterparts. Left a quick set of instructions for his son who lived nearly a thousand miles away and headed out into the world for what he suspected was going to be a very extended vacation.
He spent nearly 4 months seeing the tourist side of places he had seen the darker sides of for nearly 15 years in his time with the SEALS and with the various security and intelligence commissions he had been with. Whooping it up in high style with plenty of alcohol and more women than he was proud to remember. At thirty three he was effectively retired....and very quickly...he learned he didn't like it.
In a rented villa somewhere along Aegean sea coast, he spent that morning as usual, piling a couple hundred pounds of steel on his weight bench and blasting out four grueling hours of weight training, all the while thinking over his situation in his mind.
Thomas was a warrior, built from the ground up for combat. With a long history of brawlers and soldiers in his family, it was inevitable. And the premature retirement wasn't settling with him well at all. He pondered returning to his old line of work, but the disgust of that thought only caused him to pump the weights harder and more viciously.
He had heard stories, myths as far as he was concerned, though the people that had brought it up in the martini soaked conversations of late evenings were all men he had respected highly for their abilities and common sense, about a realm of warriors. A place in some other world that was where the best of the best all eventually ended up, and vied and contended with each other in some constant and ongoing battle of pure sport.
He continued to slam the weights, thinking such a place unimaginable in the stark black and white reality of the world he had known all his life. But inwardly yearning for just such a place. Somewhere where he could vie with the best, a grapple here, a drink there, a stolen girlfriend there...all in the name of pure aggressive sport.
At the fourth hour, he stopped his work out, rising from the bench covered in a light sheen of sweat that was alot less than would be expected for a man of thirty three years old. The thought of that legendary place still locked in his mind, he recalled the first man that had told him of it, a japenese solider he had done some time with in the Phillipines on a Triad investigation for MI6 by the name of Nokiro Tokugawa.
He stepped back inside the rented villa, stopping by the small fridge and grabbing a bottle of chilled mineral water and slamming back about half of it quickly, letting its coldness refresh his body and mind from the workout, and then...on a whim dug through his jump bag that he constantly traveled with for his Personal Data Assistant.
Sitting back at the antique table in the solarium, he set his water and his celluar phone to the table and called up his list of phone numbers from the PDA, and within minutes was dialing a number to Japan. The phone rang for a moment, over the low static of international satellite connections, and was promptly answered.
"Hai." A deep voice sounded on the other end, immediately recognizeable to Thomas.
"Hows the raw fish, Nok?" Thomas said, letting a bit of his rough humor creep into his hard to mistake voice. The line was silent for only a moment and then came a great smile of surprise.
"Haaaa, Arclite-san, has been long since our last talk." Nokiro said, obviously pleased that Thomas still remembered him, but his english still as terrible as Garrison remembered it. " Not so busy now I am, you calling business maybe?"
There was sort of a grim expectation at the japenese mans end of the line.
And Thomas grinned to it. Nokiro was the last of a long line of samuri, the code of the warrior having been etched into his mind since he was nearly old enough to walk. He was always willing to help, and nearly always ready to act. It was one of the things Thom liked about Nokiro quite a bit.
"Sorry Nok, no kicking the snot out of tangos and perps this time," Garrison responded, hearing a semi dissatisfied grunt at the other end. " its more in the lines of a favor. "
"Domo sai, Arclite-San." Nok said, Garrison almost feeling the instinctive bow from the man. "What Nok can do for you he will."
Garrison nodded, making arrangements to meet with Nokiro a few days from then in Japan. A few quick phone calls after, the flight was arranged and he sent a email to Nokiro via his PDA giving the man his flight details.
Getting up, he headed for the shower, not quite sure if this was what he needed, but knowing that it was something to try. One way or the other.

* * * * * * *

Nokiro looked less surprised than Thomas had thought he would when Thomas finally popped the question of the realm of warriors over a quick lunch of sushi and Sapphoro.
"Not really did I think that you believed such things Arclite-San." Nok said, wiping his thin mouth with a napkin to remove some oil his last bite had left there, and looking across the table at Thomas with a larger degree of seriousness than Garrison had expected.
Thomas shrugged a bit, taking a bite from the seaweed wrapped fish in his hand and quickly following it with an anesthetic dose of Sapphoro.
"I don't really know that I do Nok, but if its true, and not just an amusing story you decided to tell me that evening in Catamaran, then I want to see it. I need to do something Nok....and I'm tired of all this chasing nameless tangos around the world that I've been doing."
Nokiro thought for a moment, then grinned over at Garrison.
"You remember the mama-sans name for you Arclite-san?"
Thomas smirked for a moment, remembering the Pacific Rim expeditions he had done that had originally brought him to work with Nokiro, back when they had both been young men and spent the time they weren't destroying things chasing indigenous ladies of the countries they were in.
"Yep...Umaku, the wild man." Thomas answered, taking another draught from the Sapphoro and looking at Nokiro, not asking for the punchline, since he was sure Nok would provide it.
"Umaku, the wild *beast*." Nok translated with a thin grin. "The legend of Rhydin is a story that was told to me by great uncle, he spend many years in Shinto shrine to avoid war, purifying his soul and perfecting his art as samuri, and protector of peace. But for many years, great uncle disspear, and none see him or hear from him. Was after he returned, and a night after great celebration with grandfather IIleydysu that he
rounded children up and told them story of his adventure in this land."
Thomas nodded, half suspecting that he was following a fairy tale dreamed up by a saki drowned old samuri. But then...the samuri were not known to lie, even to embellish a story.
"He said that in the Shinto shrines, priest mastered the arts of walking lands, and found many doorways into places. They spent time theirs, judging the warriors of this land and sending warriors to great competitions, Rhydin is this place, or so great uncle say."
"There are similar legends in cultures around the world Nok," Thomas said, referring to Viking and early Sumerian legends of a land or warriors that men went to for contests of greatness.
Nok nodded in agreement, stopping for moment to take another bite of the fish roll and wipe his lips.
"Hai, is true. But worthy warriors can go only, priest judge, many none see this land of warriors."
Thomas nodded again, figuring there was some Holy Grail or something like that that had to be passed before he would be allowed to go to this mystical realm of fighters, but not letting it dissuade him, he'd slam dunked enough Grails in his time.
"Would you happen to know where we can find this Shinto shrine?" Thomas said, jumping over the rest of the speculation as he ignored his fish roll.
Nok looked at him for a moment and then sighed.
"Hai, I can take you there. Once went myself, but did not pass the priests."
Thomas frowned for a second and put a hand on the mans shoulder in quiet commisseration.
"Well if they wouldn't take a samuri like you my friend, I'm not to worried about me going either."
Nokiro looked up at him for a moment and smiled thankfully to Thomas, but still looked doubtful as he shook his head.
" I think will be different for you Arclite-san, I think you will go. And Nokiro will be proud to have fought at your side once for it."
Thomas half smiled, still slightly dubious, and dug back into his fish roll. Watching silently, a small gaggle of japense college girls walk by the market with an appreciative eye.

* * * * * * * *

A few days of arrangement and Nokiro had booked passage for them on a day sea liner to Kyustu, a remote island off the southern coast of Japan where Nokiro maintained the Shinto Monestary to be.
Thomas was restless throughout the trip but only slightly nervous. He'd been risking the unknown for many years now, and this, while quite a bit different, was no stranger than some of the things he had done.
They were ferryed to the northwestern coastline of the island by captains gig, the Nagasite boatswain very defferent to Nokiro for reasons that Thomas could only discern as the obscure rank and caste system that had somehow remained in place in Japan since the time of rival warlords in 200AD.
They were, surprisingly, met on the beach by a young boy of about the age of 14, his head was shaved and had the dots of a Shinto initiate. He bowed quickly when they came ashore and spoke quickly in japenese to Nokiro, who listened and then translated for Thomas.
"He says his name is Giro, and he is a boy of the Shinto Master. He greets us both with deep honor and says that the Shinto Master has been waiting for us."
Nokiro translated without reaction, but Thomas raised a bushy brow to him in quiet question, wondering how some Shinto Priest would know he was coming when he had only decided to just a hands span of days ago.
Without time to question, the boy turned and began walking towards the massive red tower that all Shinto shrines are designed after, leaving the two to follow him into the structure without so much as a further explanation.
As they walked, Thomas eyed his surroundings, several yellow robed initiates and pledglings bustled about, busy with tasks that had probably been performed for centuries in this almost timeless place. The sun shone brightly in the courtyard of the shrine, and there was a slow wind coming from the sea, mixing the smell of sea salt with the smell of incense and oils which were getting stronger as they walked up the steps to
the massive, banyan wood doors of the shrine.
Occasionally, a initiate would look up from his work, spying Thomas and Nokiro and yanking the robe of his workmate and pointing quietly, and as they entered the shrine, Thomas heard the quiet murmur of one word.
"Umaku."
The shrine itself was darker inside than he would have thought, lit with oil lamps and braziers of coal and seemingly in a fixed miasma of incense smoke. Nokiro and Thomas followed their guide through the large arched entryway into a hallway of many doors and a finely tiled floor, obviously older than half the dynasties of Japan itself.
At the final door at the end of the hallway, Giro stopped and wrung a small gong beside it. And at some signal, unseen to Nokiro and Thomas the boy opened the door and dropped to his knees at its threshold and placed his forehead to the floor in a bow of obescience to the rooms occupant.
To Thomas' left, Nokiro had also bowed slowly in respect, from the waist and slowly, his eyes down and his head proffered in a gesture of respect that was profound coming from a samuri of his rank. Garrison, feeling a little out of place, but not completely off balance, nodded slowly to the rooms occupant as the boy initiate, Giro, scrambled to his feet at a wave of the mans hand and left them at the doors opening.
With the wave of a wisened hand, he beckoned them. A man so old his skin had lost its native pigment and he was wisened and pale. His head was bald as all Shinto priests are and showed none of the dots of rank upon it, marking him as the Master of the Shrine. Nokiro stepped in first, again bowing as he entered. Thomas came in behind him, taking in the spartan surroundings of this mans abode as he stepped in.
The man looked at both of them for moment, his hands hidden in the sleeves of his robes once more and he sat back in a small cushioned chair as he regarded them. The silence was long in those few moments as it seemed the Shinto Master looked deeply into both of them...and then nodded slowly and sagely, seeing what was there.
"Nokiro, son of the line of Tokugawa, you come to me once more as the fates had proclaimed you would. But I sense you come not for yourself this time." Looking at Thomas with a wisened smile for a moment.
Nokiro bowed his head quickly.
"Hai, Honored One, this is Thomas Garrison, a warrior of my time and worthy of your judgement."
The old man looked Thomas over again. giving Garrison the feeling once again of being looked into very deeply.
"Haaaaa, Umaku." The old man said sagely. "We have known of you for some time now, and wondered when you would seek the Nexus."
"The Nexus?" Thomas asked quietly, slightly confused.
"Hai," The Shinto Master said slowly. "The Nexus, it is where all exists at all times, the brothers of the shrine in ages past found this and opened its doors, finding the way to Rhydin and sending our warriors there to contest for valor and glory. Is it your intent, Umaku, to make your destined journey there?"
Destined journey? Thomas was slightly confused, but being seemingly inches from his goal and having never given up on a single thing in his life he merely nodded to the Shinto Master.
The man looked deeply into him again and then grunted, a deep guttural sound as he brought his hands together palms first and bowed his aged' head over them, starting what sounded to Thomas, like a mantra of meditation, low and guttural in his throat.
Nokiro turned to Garrison for a moment, a look of sadness and pride in his eyes as he clasped the American's shoulder.
"You go, Arclite-san. Nokiro was proud to know you. You find him if you return to this world....tell him of your stories yes?"
Thomas warmly grasped the mans hand on his shoulder.
"What do you mean, whats happening Nok?"
"You go, domo-arigato, Arclite-san" Nokiro said and stepped back. Suddenly the sound the in room began to fade and stretch, the murmuring mantra of the Shinto Priest seeming to explode in his mind into a choralization of hundreds of millions of voices and pitches, all murmuring the same mantra, the room darkened and darkened, seeming to be enveloped in incense smoke to the point of suffocation. And then Thomas felt a
lurch in his gut, something close to the same lurch he felt stepping off the loading ramp of a C-109 into a pitch black night, with only the glow of his compass, and the knowledge his chute was there to break his fall.
For a moment, the feeling of uncontrolled falling continued....and then suddenly, stopped. The smoke that had clouded his vision cleared away and he was standing outside a city of ancient and massive design. Bewildered and suddenly feeling like his internal compass was spinning in circles, he staggered a bit, much to the concern of a few passing on the roadway near him, having just seen him appear out of nowhere.
Thomas looked around and found the sun, and a horizon, and quickly got his bearings. And then looked up again at the massive city and towards the gates, where hundreds of thousands congregated as they entered the city. Set outside the gate, in massive gleaming letters was a sign to all that would enter it.

~WELCOME ALL TO RHYDIN TOWNE~

He couldn't believe it, he was actually there. This world called Rhydin was real. And somewhere within that massive city, lay dojos and glory, conquest and defeat. Thomas grinned and yanked his jump bag more securely over his right shoulder and settled the black leather field jacket on his tightly packed frame a bit more and grinned, heading down the short bit of road to the gates.
'And besides all that,' Garrison thought to himself. 'Theres bound to be women and booze as well.'
With that in mind, he picked up his pace double time and hit the gates. Looking at the oddly clad and seemingly armored gate guards there as he was passed by all manner of new beings and peoples, alien some, and more familiar others.
'This should be fun.' He thought to himself, entering the city for the first time, and jerking back suddenly as he came face to face with a huge, ugly, thing with thick dark skin and vestigal horns, dressed in furs and skins, that merely grunted at him and stepped around him to exit the gates. Thomas watched it for a moment with a look of total wonder and then grinned again. And for the first time in awhile, he was smiling a
relaxed smile that he thought he had lost a long time ago.