The conclusion to El-Hazard starts here. This is my own vision of what I
would like a third OAV or TV series to be like. This series will hopefully
draw together the strands of OAV1, OAV2 and The Alternative World. It
exists in the same continuity as the "Adventures of Alielle and Fatora" series,
and involves some characters introduced in those fics, but if you aren't
familiar with them, fear not, as all will be explained.

Enjoy the show,

dooky

EL-HAZARD: THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME

PROLOGUE- "THE STREETS ARE PAVED WITH TARMAC"

Black.

It was a good colour.

Not everyone liked it, of course, but you knew where you were with black. It
had always been her favourite.
And what you like, you use to define yourself. Or do you? There was no
intended symbolism in wearing black, she just liked it. But for the people
around you, such a simple explanation is never enough. You like black
because you're miserable. You like black because you don't want to be like
the rest of us. You like black because you want to send a message, loud and
clear, to all the people around you, that says "I hate myself and everybody
else".

Christ, it was only a colour.
But life, or society, or whatever you wanted to blame, had a funny way of
moulding you to people's expectations. You were a mirror to the perceptions
of others. If enough people called you something, you became that
something.
That's life. She had never intended to become a goth. She had objected when
people had first used the term to describe her. But gradually, a goth was
exactly what she had become. And here she was. A sociologist's dream.

It was just after five in the morning, and the first signs of light were
appearing over the skyline. The night was receding. That was a shame. There
was something very beautiful about the city at night. In the early hours of the
morning, after the drunks and partygoers had staggered back to their
respective homes, the city was still and silent. A city- designed for transport,
work, shopping, people! Designed in an effort to somehow bring order to the
chaos. And yet now it stood deserted, devoid of all that usually gave it
meaning. A vast concrete contradiction. Magnificent.

She stopped. Her wandering had brought her to the school. A large board
covered with a sheet of clear plastic bore the recent exam results. Clearly
located next to the entrance for all to see. You couldn't escape from the
results. Because, after all was said and done, these results, these numbers,
were all that mattered. You were the number. Granted, you might be a big
number rather than a small number, but you were still a number.
She let the figures drift out of focus, and caught her reflection in the plastic.
Dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothes, dark lipstick. Absurdly light skin, and
unlike most goths, make up was not required to maintain it. It was natural,
although the mascara, eyeliner and lipstick were all artificial. Goths were
artificial. But everyone else was artificial as well, to some degree, and, as
somebody once said, "that's the way a girl should be in a consumer society."
She ran a hand through her hair. Short, spiky, a little chaotic perhaps.
Glancing down at her clothes, it occurred to her that she would have to return
home soon and change into her school uniform. A pointless gesture, if the
intention was to make all students the same. No. She was 'different', and
nobody, least of all her, would ever be permitted to forget that.

There were footsteps approaching.
A noticeably thin woman, her mind clearly elsewhere, walked quickly in her
direction, with her head down. The woman glanced up, and let out a shriek.
"Oh my God!"
"I'm sorry. Can I help?"
"You scared me, you freak! What are you doing walking around here at this
hour?"
"I was just... admiring the city at night. What about you?"
"I was at a party. I got lost, and... hey, I don't have to tell you anything!
Don't you know who I am?"
"No."
There was a very awkward silence.
"What do you mean, 'no'? Of course you know who I am."
"I'm afraid I don't."
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"
The goth sighed. This conversation was going nowhere.
"I don't know who you are. I'm not really in the mood to guess. Why don't
you just tell me?"
The woman frowned, then said, as if it was the most blindingly obvious thing
in the world, "I'm Sakura Tamaro!"
"Okay..." the goth replied, desperately searching her memory. Then
something struck her. "Oh, you're famous, aren't you?"
Sakura's face lit up. "Yes! So you have heard of me?"
"Are you an actress?"
The smile immediately left Sakura's face. The goth quickly offered another
possibility.
"A voice artist, then? Hey, do you do Sailor Moon? I love Sailor Moon!"
"I'm a pop star!" Sakura finally revealed, indignant. "I'm Sakura Tamaro,
Japan's favourite solo artist!"
"Oh, that's great!" the goth said, still trying to appear friendly. "I'm Mari
Kurai, high school student!"
"I don't care who you are, you... apparition. When you've had three number
one albums, then I'll care who you are."
Mari was, justifiably, rather offended. "Hey! Leave me alone. You have no
right to talk to me like that. What have I ever done to you?"
"You... didn't... know... who... I... was!" Sakura hissed, furious. "You're a
female, aged thirteen to eighteen. You're in my demographic! You're
supposed to idolise me!"
Mari shook her head, almost apologetically. But not quite. "I can't idolise
someone I've never heard of."
"You mutant," Sakura snapped, pointing a representatively skinny finger at
Mari. "Who do you idolise, then?"
"Umm... Sailor Saturn? Yeah, she's so sweet, in a sinister kind of way..."
Sakura shook her head. "I hate people like you. Always trying to be different.
Thinking you're better than the rest of us."
"You can talk," Mari casually replied.
Sakura continued. "You deliberately cut yourself off from other people,
That's why you have no friends."
"What?" Mari objected. "You don't know me, so don't kid yourself that you
know anything about me."
"Oh, please. It's obvious to me that... who the hell is that?"
Mari looked over her shoulder and followed Sakura's gaze to the playing
fields. Sure enough, somebody was standing there. It was difficult to make
out any details at this distance, so the two observers moved cautiously closer.
A woman. Yes, definitely a woman. But not one that Mari recognised. Her
hair was white, or possibly blue.
"What IS she wearing?" Sakura whispered. "She looks ridiculous. Is this one
of your people?"
"I don't know who she is," Mari replied, too intrigued to be insulted.
"You don't know who anyone is," Sakura added unhelpfully.
The pair suddenly recoiled at the appearance of a brilliant light. As her eyes
adjusted, Mari could make out a second figure at the centre of the light,
carrying a large staff of some kind.
The first figure ran towards the second. They embraced. Now they seemed to
be having a conversation.
"That's it," Sakura said calmly. "This is too weird. I'm going."
She turned and began to walk away.
A flash. The two figures were gone. All that remained was kind of residual
charge, a series of sparks that clung to the air where the pair had been. The
charge didn't fade, though. It just sort of... stayed there. Mari was just
considering how strange this was when she noticed something disturbing.
A bolt of energy was snaking along the ground towards her. Moving
reasonably quickly. She turned and ran.
What's her problem, Sakura thought as Mari streaked past her. Then, noticing
the trail of energy following the student, she found her answer. For a second-
but only a second- she wondered if she should help. But why should she?
Weird people really did bring stuff like this on themselves.
What was that noise behind her?
She turned her head to discover its source.
Oh... crap.
There was an identical bolt of energy, moving equally quickly. And it had its
sights set on Sakura.
She ran in the opposite direction to Mari. She could move at a fair speed.
Thirty seconds later, the school was out of sight. The energy bolt was still
following her along the tarmac, but she was definitely outrunning it. Ha! She
knew that personal trainer would pay off eventually. That chubby little goth
had probably been vaporised by now.
She stumbled over a piece of debris in the road. Managing to stay upright,
she nevertheless found, to her annoyance, that she had lost a shoe. Now, a
dilemma. To go back and rescue the shoe, or to carry on and save her life?
There was only one realistic answer.
Those shoes were bloody expensive.
She crouched down to retrieve the shoe. The energy hit her full in the face.
Japan's Favourite Solo Artist touched her shoe just in time to take it with her.

Mari sat on top of the bins, swinging her legs over the side, watching the
energy snake around below her, snapping hungrily at her feet. How curious.
The energy was unable to leave the ground.
There was a decision to be made. She couldn't stay up here forever. So she
could either jump down and try- probably unsuccessfully- to outrun the
energy, or- and this was the interesting one- let it catch her, and see what it
did.
Perhaps it would do nothing. Perhaps it would kill her. Perhaps it would just
tickle. Perhaps... well, there was an infinite number of possibilities, wasn't
there?
Life, apparently, was all about infinite possibilities, but in reality this wasn't
true. In life you had to be realistic. The number of paths open to you was
staggeringly limited.
Yes, the energy was starting to look more inviting.
She hesitated. Did she have anything else on today? She ran through her
timetable in her head.
PE this morning. She could do without that.
Without another thought, she jumped down. The energy washed over her. For
the first time in her life, she was truly facing the unexpected.
It was a risky, and probably quite stupid, thing to do.
But just occasionally, the stupidest choice turned out to be the best.
And who wanted to be a number forever?

El-Hazard is property of AIC/Pioneer. All other characters and events are
property of dooky. With the exception of the lyrics I borrowed from
Honeycrack and X-Ray Spex...