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The border of a certain country.
Twenty-three hundred hours.
A full moon floats in a boundless
sky with nary a trace of cloud.
The wind velocity is 1 meter per
second. The temperature is 19 degrees
centigrade. The humidity registers
at 50 percent.
Without fog, one cannot hope for
a shielding mist.
It is a 3-P night (peaceful, pleasant,
and placid); in other words, the
conditions are altogether unsuitable
for this top-secret invasion.
"...Nuts. Hey, Clark. Couldn't you
have chosen another day for this?"
"Don't set your guns on me! Right,
Whip?"
"The changing of the border security
force comes but once a month. ...It
was Ralf who judged today as the
only opportunity for our raid."
"That's how I remember it."
"See. Even Leona backs me up!"
"Jeesh! Doesn't anyone feel like
sticking up for their leader? Everyone's
so freakin' logical all the time!"
There is still quite a hike to the
danger zone near the border.
A hint of tension clouds the faces
and the behavior of these invaders,
but the true test awaits a few kilometers
down. That is where the carnage will
take place.
Though night, the wasteland illuminated
by the full moon's glow is amply
bright.
The pace of the mercenaries garbed
in field gear is light, but they
fear being fully exposed. Though
they know no watches them, they instinctively
seek cover, from rock to rock and
shrub to shrub. His trademark bandana
gives Ralf away. Clark's the one
with sunglasses forever fused to
his face. Leona, the laconic lady
warrior, and the master of the bullwhip,
Whip, bring up the rear. The four
shadows silently press on.
"!!!"
Whip, taking up the rear, suddenly
freezes, produces her bullwhip, and
readies herself. All quickly follow
suit, a reflexive action brought
about by their training.
At the slightest indication, the
forward three immediately assume
combat positions.
"Hey, what's going on, Whip...ster?"
When Ralf glances back and focuses
on Whip, the image of her immediate
vicinity being covered by a dark
shadow hits him hard. A giant darkness
grows behind her; and the "shadow"
slowly engulfs the frozen Whip, followed
by Leona, Clark, and Ralf himself.
"Leona, can you make out its speed?"
"Going by the shadow's velocity,
I'd judge it at five to six kilometers
per hour."
"Hmm. An observational flight, perhaps?
Clark, what's the objective's height
and size?"
"It's altitude's got to be about
1,000 meters. The total length...."
"Well? What's the objective's size?"
"Four hundred meters. Give or take."
"Four hundred meters?! Don't you
think you're a little off?"
"I'm not off. It's about 1,312 feet,
or 1,320 Japanese shaku. That's 212
Ralfs lined up end to end!"
"Uh, thanks. What's that length in
cigarettes placed end to end?"
"Four thousand four hundred forty-four."
"...You scare me sometimes, Clark.
So that balloon's bigger than an
aircraft carrier?!"
The massive flying ship drifts through
the sky.
The shadow hangs over all four, continuing
to obstruct the moonlight.
It seems the objective has cut its
engines and is drifting. It makes
no noise. By the light of the moon,
it is difficult to determine the
ship's color, but it appears to be
coated in a dark blue tint. The noble
and elegant design is a lithe streamline
shape.
"You got pictures, didn't you, Whipster?"
"......"
"Whips...Oh, all right, you little
twit! Whip! You did get pictures,
didn't you?!"
"Yup. And the data's already encoded
and compressed. Shall I send it to
Heidern?"
"It's got nothing to do with the
mission directly...but we can't ignore
it. Just that monster nonchalantly
floating near the border's hot zone
is one big piece of intel."
"Our position may be given away with
the momentary transmission of this
data."
"No kidding. How long do you think
I've been doing this anyway? I know
the risks. Send it!"
"Yes, sir."
Leona does not avert her gaze from
the giant flying ship leisurely flying
on by. She continues to study it,
as if trying to remember something,
and whispers to herself:
"I've seen that ship.... I just know
it."
"You're rationalizing, Leona. You
can't possibly recognize that levitating
leviathan."
Ralf and Clark frown simultaneously.
There is no way Leona can know this
craft. But this sense memory...?
* * * * * * * *
"Mistress Rose, the four life signs
we picked up previously have begun
moving again. It lasted but a moment,
but there's a trace of an electronic
transmission being sent - a transmission
of encoded data. Perhaps agents from
some sort of intelligence service?"
"Oh really...? Any word from my brother?"
The answering voice is that of a
youthful woman. She is oblivious
to the contents of the report.
The compact control room of the flying
machine is packed with myriad consoles.
A blonde girl appears on one of them.
It is likely a closed-circuit system
allowing direct communication with
this girl in a separate room.
"Are we to rendez-vous over the Pacific
as planned?"
"Yes.... Tedious, isn't it, Gwan?"
The girl called Rose coos to her
black panther crouching at her feet
while playing with her blonde tresses.
Rose strokes the beast's brow with
her foot, as if it were but a house
cat.
"And what of those four we previously
detected?"
"I'm not interested. Leave them."
"Very well...."
* * * * * * * *
"Heidern. KOF has just begun in all
venues throughout the world."
"Good work."
The one-eyed mercenary Heidern is
currently in cahoots with Interpol,
investigating the hidden mystery
behind KOF...the King of Fighters.
"Keep my apprised of the steady progress
of our two participating squads."
"Yes, sir. And here are the estimated
specs of the flying ship from last
month's report."
"Estimated?"
In an exceedingly brief alignment
of characters, the following appeared
on the submitted transparency:
'Total length less than 400 meters.
Total width, less than 50 meters.
In addition to a maximum speed below
180 kilometers, a flight range of
60,000 kilometers is estimated. All
data computed on the basis of image
submitted.'
"For that amount of investigatory
time, we still don't know the owner
of this particular vessel?"
"My apologies. The tangible and intangible
hurdles to attaining such intel were
considerable. Further, the vessel,
we surmise, is apparently equipped
with some sort of radar-jamming system.
...This is all just supposition and
conjecture on our part, though."
(This worries me... ...What is this apprehension
I feel?)
Heidern orders further inquiry into
the mysterious flying ship, but the
submission of the official report
from the investigative agency is
scheduled for a date after KOF's
conclusion.
Regardless, it was subsequently made
known that the name of the sky ship
was "SKY-NOAH."
And its owner... |
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SNK
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