In 2003 or 2004, there was a fic Swap over at BirdGo. You requested a story, and fulfilled another's request. A hat of random assignment was involved.
Original Request by: Late
What if one or more from the team were at a party where they discover too late that the party drinks are spiked with mind-expanding drugs?�
Thanks to Paxwolf and Dei for the beta.
Jun reached him just before he made the safety of his plane.
"Ken?"
"Yeah, Jun?"
"You going to the party tonight?"
"No." She knew he didn't go to parties.
"You really should. You and Carl do a lot of work together."
Sure, they worked together, fine-tuning some of the G-1's control systems; he'd even let Carl fly the jet one time, so he had a better feel for what was needed. But they didn't work together enough to become friends. He held up his knapsack. "I've got a lot to do this weekend."
"So much that you can't take a night off?"
"These tapes might tell us where Galactor's building their next base."
She sighed at him, shoulders rising and falling, green eyes meeting blue and shadowing in disappointment. "And if they don't? Like the last dozen sets of tapes?"
All he could do was shrug.
"Joe will be there."
Do not react to that bit of information. Do not react.
Too late. She must have seen the pause, heard the hitch in his breath, recognized the aura of calm he forced himself to project; maybe even seen the tightening of his chest muscles. She must have expected it, too, from the resigned way her shoulders relaxed and her spine slumped. Only millimeters, but obvious enough to one who had trained with her for almost a decade.
"I'll, uh, tell Carl."
"Yeah, thanks."
She turned on her heel and went to her bike.
He watched as she popped the clutch and sped off into the early summer evening. I'm sorry, Jun. I really am. But it just won't happen. Not the way you want it to.
He climbed onto the wing and dropped his knapsack through the open canopy.
It was rare that he had this much time available -- an entire summer-lit evening, ready-made for flight. Much as he loved the thrill of the chase and the pressure of the g-forces against his body, the split-second actions in response to data flitting across the display and the instant reactions of the fly-by-wire controls in his jet, there was something that drew him to the solid, slow dependability of the simple one-seater mail plane. He now had the time to plan his actions. Time to fly by the way his body sank into the seat and by the feel of the stick fighting against his palm -- feedback and instructions being transmitted through old-fashioned cables connected directly from the stick to the control surfaces.
The door from the hangar to the base opened again. Joe stepped through and leaned against the wall, legs crossed and thumbs hooked in his belt -- drawing casual attention to his waist and the untucked end of his belt. Ken continued his pre-flight inspection.
"You going tonight?"
"No."
"I thought you and Carl were friends?"
"Not really."
"Jun will be there."
"She already told me."
Joe watched his commander finish the external pre-flight check-list and begin to climb into the cockpit. "So you're gonna spend the evening in the air."
"It's as good a place as any."
"Only if you're a hermit."
"Well, maybe I am."
"You're not going because Carl is gay."
Ken stopped with one leg still outside the cockpit. "Gay?" His voice had not squeaked on that word. Gay wasn't so bad. It was a fact of life. Some of his coworkers just ... were. And so long as they didn't invite him into their bedrooms, it didn't matter.
"He says he's gonna have a contest -- spot the gay guys."
"That's impossible."
"What, a contest?"
"No, telling just by looking." It had better be impossible. Please, let it be impossible.
"If you don't go, you'll never know."
Ken settled himself in the plane and reached for his harness.
Joe climbed onto the wing and looked Ken in the eye. Ken could feel the heat from his skin and smell the residue of Coke on his breath.
Joe narrowed his eyes and whispered a secret: "I think you're afraid to go because they'll think you're one of them."
"I am not one of them."
"Then prove it." Joe's smile deepened and he leaned closer. Ken swore he could count each eyelash framing the midnight eyes. "Come to the party, and we'll see how many vote for you."
"Doesn't matter how they vote." The pressure of his head against the seat increased.
"Oh?"
"It doesn't. I can act one way or the other, no problem."
Joe backed off by centimeters; cool air slid between them. "Let's make it a contest."
"A contest?" Contests with Joe were something he had long ago learned to avoid.
"A contest. We both go. Whoever gets the most gay-votes takes Jun out to dinner."
"I'm not going, Joe."
"If you don't, I'll tell Jinpei you were afraid to go."
Jinpei, with evidence, however vague, that his Commander was gay. Jinpei, with his proclivity for emails and text-messaging, and his ... 14-year-old sense of humor. Contests with Joe were something he had long ago learned were impossible to avoid.
++++
The party was easy enough to find. Carl and his roommates shared a house on the outskirts of the city -- cheap lodgings in a trendy area, currently overflowing with music and guests. Joe parked several houses away and Ken noted that the houses next to Carl's were empty. He wondered whether the neighbors were at the party or simply avoiding the area until the next morning.
Two men with arms around each others' shoulders walked down the path, barely supporting each other as they walked with glazed eyes and fatuous smiles. Joe pressed against Ken to give them room. Ken squashed against the wall, trapped between solid, sinuous smoothness on one side and gritty, gray granite on the other.
The main room was half-empty. Post-it-note yellow walls with white trim. Birch and black shelving and tables. The green over-stuffed couch and chairs were pushed against the walls. The dining room table was in the next room, covered with bowls of food and punch.
Joe moved easily through the partying crowd and grabbed a can of pop and a handful of nachos. Ken moved, equally easily, through the moving obstacles between him and the refreshments and picked up a glass of pink punch and a handful of popcorn. Together, the civvie-clad ninjas went out the patio doors to the crowd of dancers enjoying the light summer breeze.
The crowd was mixed. Half were coworkers and significant others he had seen at other events. It always fascinated him how different they looked outside of work: clothes more rumpled; legs without nylon stockings; shirts with holes. The other half were strangers, and dressed even more casually: longer hair; bare feet; slouched shoulders. The strangers seemed more relaxed than the ISO group. They danced harder, drank more; a few of them were passing a smoldering white cylinder around. Nothing he hadn't seen before, but not the crowd he usually hung out with.
Then again, he didn't normally hang out with any crowd.
The tap on his shoulder was gentle: Glad you came., in the private code that they used on their communicators when they could not speak. He turned and faced Jun, trying to ignore the hopeful look on her face.
Joe grinned at her. "I had to threaten his macho image, but he came."
"Good." She continued to smile at Ken as Joe melted into the crowd. "Shall we dance?"
Damn you, Joe. You set this whole thing up. Ken swallowed and held up his drink and popcorn apologetically. Jun led him to the fence beside a maple tree, where he could finish his food without being jostled by the dancers. Wonder how long I can nurse the drink?
He was saved by Carl. Jun looked at Ken and his drink. "Go ahead, Jun. I'll be alright."
She frowned at the answer, but followed Carl off to join the dancers, leaving Ken alone.
Ken leaned against the fence and watched the dancers move while he finished his popcorn, gradually easing the control over his body language. He kept the drink, just in case she asked again, refilling it a few times to ease his dry mouth and remove the metallic after-taste of the popcorn. Besides, there was a fascinating small green jumpy thing in the drink.
What was a small green jumpy thing doing in the Gatchaman's drink?
He looked closer at the insect. Six legs. Two antennae. Tiny mandibles that could, if enlarged, crush steel.
It kicked against the liquid of the drink, pushing against the surface tension. It tried to leap out of the glass, but bounced off the side with an audible ping and landed on the liquid, tiny legs waving in the air as it tried to right itself. Ken watched while it rocked. The air holes on its abdomen were well-placed to fire rockets at a pursing ship. The hairs on its legs were most certainly coated in acid which would penetrate his armor on contact.
He threw the drink into the bushes and called for his team. "Joe! Jun! They're here!"
Joe was across the yard, talking intently with a busty brunette. Jun was still dancing with Carl, her arms waving and hair bouncing in counterpoint to the music. They did not hear him.
The drink dripped down the leaves, wetting each one in turn and dripping to the one below. And the bug returned. Larger: two or three inches at least. The carapace had morphed to mottled brown and the antennae had grown. It resembled a cockroach. But Ken knew better. The insect landed beside him and he crushed it under his heel. The beast withstood his efforts, waving its antennae and taunting him.
"It's Galactor! They're invading!"
Joe and Jun finally realized the danger. He had to admire their discretion: they did not transmute in front of the civilians, nor did they show any of their ninja abilities, but walked over quickly.
Jun was uncharacteristically calm in the face of danger. "Galactor? Where? I don't see anything suspicious, Ken."
He showed them the bug.
"That's just a palmetto bug, Ken. We see them all the time." Joe was calm, too. Infuriatingly calm.
"It grew. It started as a leaf hopper." He felt the adrenaline -- fight or flight reflexes that had been honed to always say, "Fight".
"That's impossible, Ken," Joe said.
What had happened to his hot-headed second? His easily-frightened explosives expert? Ken strove for control. "It started as a leaf hopper. Half a centimeter. Green." He was sure it had been green. "And now it's this thing."
Jun picked up the bug and examined it. "It looks like a normal palmetto bug, Ken. I don't see any signs of metal or weapons."
He flinched at a sound in the bushes behind him. A second palmetto bug was on the ground, larger than the first. He leaped over and grabbed it. Joe and Jun followed. Jun handed the first bug to Joe and took the second one; she examined it methodically while Joe scanned the crowd for trouble.
"It's normal, Ken." This was the woman who jumped into Joe's arms when confronted with robot ants?
He backed away from his shimmering teammates. "You're not Jun and Joe."
"Huh?"
"What are you talking about, Ken?"
He could feel the boards of the fence against his back. "You never learn, do you, Katse? I am the Gatchaman: sometimes one, sometimes five, the white shadow that slips in unseen, defender of good."
Jun and Joe just stared at him.
He shifted sideways, away from the imposters, but the fence reached out and caught the back of his shirt. He pulled free and moved towards the bushes. His bracelet tugged on his arm, but he knew he could not transmute this close to civilians -- not unless it became a matter of life and death -- something he was not currently prepared to rule out.
Another of the fake palmetto bugs scuttled over, grabbed some of the fallen popcorn, and clattered off, feelers waving. The skittering of its feet against the patio stone rang in his ears. He was trapped between the bugs and bushes, and the agents impersonating his teammates. The bushes swayed towards him, independent of the breeze, giggling at his peril.
The other guests had noticed the disruption. One of Carl's roommates laughed; Carl looked worried. He had better be worried -- it was Carl who had invited him into this trap. There was a special circle in Hell for traitors like Carl.
Joe reached for him. He felt fire as Joe's fingers brushed his wrist, then ice steel as they grabbed. The imposter's reactions were faster than Joe's -- Joe would not have been able to catch him.
There was no choice. He rounded his other arm in front of his face and said the magic words: "Bird Go!" The yard shifted in a riot of color; cool fire moved over his body as his clothing transmuted; the scene tinted blue through his newly-formed visor; the inside of his birdstyle gripped and slid against his skin.
Joe's glove formed briefly and disappeared as the transmutation field flared; he jerked his hand away in reaction. "Baka, Ken! What did you do that for?"
Ken moved into a fighting pose, equally aware of Joe and Jun on one side and the bugs on the other.
"Ken?" squeaked Jun, hand at her mouth, eyes wide.
"You won't get me, Galactor!" He leaped up and back to stand on the fence, dancing as the fence shifted beneath him. His birdrang was comfortable and smooth in his hand; the "snick" as it opened reassured him that his weapon was ready.
Joe said something into his communicator. "Help" and "insane" and "delusional".
He was not delusional.
Carl stepped forward. "Ken, man, get down; it's just a bad trip."
What would Carl know? Carl, with his green clothes and brown hair. He needed only a mask to complete the uniform. He wasn't even a captain, just a goon. The ISO crowd began to disperse, quickly. The significant others ran off; a few of the ops team stayed. The non-ISO crowd came closer, intrigued. They stared, pointed, and some of them even laughed.
He needed reinforcements. "Hakase! Galactor invasion! Imposters!" His communicator bracelet blinked as he transmitted.
"Coming, Aniki!"
"Already on my way, Commander."
"What seems to be the problem, Commander?"
He had to hold on just a few more moments and the rest of his team would be there.
"Galactors at Carl's party." He moved away from Joe's arm. "Giant bugs." Leaped into the next yard. "Jun and Joe -- imposters." Looked for a place to hide until his team showed up.
The next tree was filled with the bugs, chittering in code and waving their antennae to distract him. He ran through the yard and jumped over the next fence. The imposters followed, keeping him in sight. They had not transmuted.
He ran between the houses to the street, aiming for Joe's car. But wait -- was that car part of the plot? His lungs heaved as he tried to concentrate.
He continued across the street and between the houses on the other side. Two small kids in a sandbox cheered at him as he passed. He waved and continued over the fence separating the yard from the local park, and through the park to the ocean, ignoring the stares of the families and couples. His throat burned from the exertion. His legs continued to pound.
"Ken, stop!" Joe, now in birdstyle, was slowly gaining on him.
Ken looked around wildly for a place to wait for Ryu and Jinpei. In desperation he ran into the surf. If he swam at full speed, he could reach Crescent Coral in an hour. Water, that would be good, to cool the fire in his legs.
And then he heard it. Salvation from the sky in the form of a blue and red ship. He raised his communicator as he ran. The air in his lungs refused to be formed into words. "Ryu! ... Pick up ... just me."
"Nani? What about Jun and Joe?"
"Imposters." The ocean took heat from the setting sun and burned his feet. He stepped high and kept running into the surf. His knees ached from the water as it boiled around him.
"Crazy." Joe's voice. The imposter.
Water dragged at his legs and scalded where it splashed his waist. He put his birdrang back in its holster, preparing to swim.
Jinpei's craft dropped from the wing pod and moved in front of him. He ran towards it. The ungainly contraption splashed into the water and opened.
Ken dove into safety.
"Aniki?" Jinpei's orange birdstyle wavered in the dim light of the instruments.
"Fly!"
Jinpei pulled on the levers and the ship rose. The ocean held briefly, then fell back with an angry splash.
Ken looked through the window at Joe and Jun, talking frantically on their communicators. Joe's voice came through the speakers. "Careful, Jinpei. He's not himself."
Jinpei hesitated. Ken lunged. The smaller ninja landed against the wall and stared.
"Ken!"
Ken grabbed the unfamiliar controls and flew. Away from the imposters. Away from the false Phoenix.
"Aniki?"
He looked at the small boy who had been chosen to impersonate his youngest teammate. "It's okay, kid. I'll keep you safe."
"But, I am safe."
"No." He set a course for Crescent Coral. "You'll see. Galactor is no place for you."
"Galactor? Ken, I'm Jinpei, the mighty Swallow."
"No, they brainwashed you. But it's okay. Nambu Hakase will help you."
Jinpei's communicator vibrated slightly. Ken listened to the buzzing sound, trying to interpret the code. The boy looked worried, but did nothing.
In the aft screens, the Phoenix dropped low for Joe and Jun to enter. Then it rose and slowly flew out to sea, away from the base. Back to Galactor territory for reinforcements.
Jinpei remained silent and still as Ken flew to Crescent Coral.
The secret base glowed in the sunset. It had never looked so beautiful. He landed beside the entrance and waited for the welcoming committee. There was none.
"Gatchaman to Crescent Coral. Come in, Base."
"I hear you, Ken." Hakase was his usual collected self. A hint of worry, as expected with imposters so close, but confident in the team he had created.
"They're imposters."
"I know, Ken."
"I've got one of them here. He looks like Jinpei."
"Land on the auxiliary pad. I'll have guards there to take him from you."
"Okay."
Ken flew over the base to the secondary landing pad. The place was perfect for this situation, with one visible door beside the pad, and another one across from the first, hidden behind a collection of rocks. Perfect for an ambush.
He landed and watched while four ISO guards emerged from the building, fully armored. Two knelt and aimed web guns at the G-4. Two more stood behind them with sniper rifles cocked and ready.
Hakase spoke to him through the G-4's speakers. "Open the door and send him out."
"You heard him, kid."
Jinpei nodded and went to the door of the craft, hands visible, movements slow. Ken pushed the button to open the door. The boy went outside and stopped, not fighting as the soldiers fired and the webs surrounded him.
Ken waited until the soldiers took the boy inside the base before grabbing his birdrang and leaving the craft himself.
The base was quiet -- except for the chirping of palmetto bugs.
The nets hit him from behind. Too late, he realized the ropes were attached to canisters of poison gas.
The mighty Gatchaman collapsed in a wet puddle at the door to safety.
++++
Ken regained consciousness in what had to be the medical bay. He recognized the antiseptic smell, the diffuse light, the talking kept quiet so as not to disturb him -- which, of course, made him try to listen all the harder.
"... an LSD derivative ... explain the paranoia." Nambu Hakase's voice came from the hallway.
Paranoia. That would explain the manacles tying him to the bed.
"See, Jinpei, that's what happens when you take drugs."
"Awe, Ju-un,..."
Joe's voice was closer: "So, the fly-boy is awake."
He grunted noncommittally.
"Gave us quite a scare there." Joe looked really scared, sitting backwards on the guest chair, racing magazine held in one hand, thumb marking his place.
"What happened?"
"Well, Security's still sorting it out, but it looks like Carl's roommate spiked the punch."
"Spiked the punch?"
"Yep."
"Was Carl ... involved?"
"Don't know yet. Figured we'd let you help with the interrogation."
Ken nodded in appreciation.
Joe swung a lean leg off the chair and approached his bed-ridden commander. He brandished the keys to the manacles. "They weren't able to finish the voting."
He managed a disinterested shrug.
Joe moved closer -- only inches from Ken's face -- and smirked. "So, I guess we'll never know."
"Guess not."
"Know what?" Jun asked, holding Jinpei from racing forward.
Joe stood back and put the key in one of the locks. "Our noble commander's true inclinations."
"You mean he's gay."
"Jinpei! Don't say such things!"
"Awe, Ju-un! Everybody knows it's true!"
"It is not! Ken's as hetero as anyone." She came forward and took the keys from Joe.
Joe looked at her in disbelief.
"Nice to know I have some support around here."
She smiled at him and caressed his wrist as she unlocked a manacle.
Maybe I will take her out on that date, just to say thanks.