Biker 1/2 Cycle 1 - Birth of a Modern Legend

Book 2: Severed

Chapter 09: Back In The USSR

by Calum Wallace

=====

LEGALISTIC SHIT and RANT
IT'S ALL MINE! BWAHAHAHAHA!
(Mr. C. Wallace leaps out with large knobbly club and moshes the
megalomanic who invaded his disclaimer.)

Previous chapters of this monstrosity (including the entirety of book 1)
can be found in several places - the TASS/RAAC archives (for some reason
their bots didn't put book 2 in the Biker 1/2 folder) fanfiction.net and
Studio Asynjor (a.k.a http://www.asynjor.com/fanfic/index.html) which
for now can be counted as the official Biker 1/2 webpage until I finally
manage to get something more personalised written. Don't get onto me as
to what the heck everything's arranged like on the above sites - the
only involvement I have in them is A) guy who posts stuff on RAAC and B)
satisfied user.

I'd advise first-time readers of Biker 1/2 to go to one of the above
sites and read book 1 since I sincerely doubt you'd be able to work out
what the heck's going on if you didn't; this is the second of a series
of 100,000+ word books.

Words in "{this}" kind of brackets are spoken in Cantonese. Those in
"[this]" are in wolf-speak.

=====

"No place to judge until you have been the monster I have been. To
hunger is noble, where beauty in silence sleeps. My hunger is noble, but
my pain is driven deep." - The Cruxshadows, 'Cruelty'

"Necromancy is as complicated a subject as any aspect of supernature. On
the one hand you've got so-called 'white' necromancy - communicating
with ghosts, exorcisms, resurrection and so forth. On the other, you
have walking corpses and other so-called 'black' necromancy. Personally
I object to the traditional terms; they have unpleasant racial
connotations. Henceforth I will refer to them as positive and negative
necromancy. Right now, the matter in question is necromancy of the
'negative' form. My client denies all charges; to reiterate,
bodysnatching, illegal reanimation of the deceased, use of illegal
magecraft and murder. Morever, my client denies all magic ability and
all but the most basic mystic knowledge..." The Right Honourable Mr.
Eugene Davenport-Fleece, speech to the court during the trial for grand
necromancy of Mr. John Banks, April 2008.

***********************************

It, Colonel Eiichi Honda mused to himself, was about fucking time. The
Minister of Defence had screwed around for nearly a month before getting
his finger out and okaying the budget for equipping the sixth and latest
Special Operations Group. Good thing he'd managed to scrounge all that
munitions off his pal Otah at 381 Mech Infantry; three truckloads of
ammo had been barely enough to keep the Amazons going for the
intervening period. And anyway, where the hell had those - what did Mi
Soon call them? Conservative Joketsuzoku, that was it - get a broadband
jammer that powerful from? They'd greyed Tokyo out from horizon to
horizon. It was lucky Nabiki had unchained her purse and bought that
Russian gunship - the other half of Nerima probably wouldn't be there
any more if she hadn't. One thing was certain; he was damn well going to
deliver the news in person to whoever Nabiki had left in charge while
she was in the States.
That was why he was riding his personal Humvee over to the Tendo dojo,
his usual duo of bodyguards with him. The two men were clanless
werewolves; with the number of supernats Honda had pissed off in the
last ten years he needed at least that much backup.
Nerima had changed a lot since the last time he had visited, back when
the First Battle of Nerima (as he and his cronies had taken to calling
it) blew up in his face. Even more so than the pictures Nabiki had
mailed him showed. The street plan was still the same, but every
building within a mile of the Tendo dojo was new. It went to show just
how much damage the last gasp of the Amazon civil war had caused.
He wasn't the least bit surprised to see the extra vehicles parked at
the dojo. Though two of them having American plates was a bit weird.
Ah well. When dealing with people like Ranma Saotome's family 'a bit
weird' is to be expected. Or that was what experience over the last few
weeks had shown him.

***********************************

"Fuckin' hell." Ranma elaborated. "Fuckin' hell. I turn me back fer five
minutes an' everythin' goes straight ta hell in a fuckin' handbasket."
Nodoka snorted. After they finished hugging and being all emotional she
had given him a rundown on everything that had happened from the large
explosion to the point he walked in the door.
"It's not like Kou Loun exactly gave you much choice in the matter...
It's good to have you back, son."
"Yeah, now I'm gonna haveta sort this fuckin' mess out." Ranma shook his
head. "I'm gonna go see Dad. I'll catch ya later." He grimaced. "Good
thing th' old bastard's tougher than a brick fuckin' wall. Though once
he's better I'm gonna haveta kick his arse fer makin' me think he'd
kicked th' fuckin' bucket."
Nodoka chuckled. "Ranma, your father's a bit like a head cold - he's an
absolute sod to get rid of, and every time you think you've managed it
he pops right back. Believe me, I know. I tried." She thought about it
for a few moments. "You know, I'm still not sure whether failing was a
good thing or not."
Ranma grunted. "Yeah? Well, I kinda like ta think I'm worth puttin' up
wiv Dad fer. An' if I ain't then Ryoga an' Ranko are. An' anyway, Dad
might annoy th' shit outta ya but he's gotten a good heart. He means
well, not like that prick Akira."
"That's the really sad thing about Akira Saotome, son." Nodoka
commented. "He thought he was doing the right thing. My parents taught
me to understand supernats, to understand how their minds - our minds -
work. Akira was not evil. He was misguided, outmoded and too inflexible
to change with the world. That's what killed him - Genma just did the
honours."
Ranma shrugged.
"Well, he wuz fuckin' people up. I ain't gonna cry over th' world havin'
one less bigoted control freak." He grinned back over his shoulder at
her as he left the room. "I'll see ya later Mum."
Nodoka laid back down, wincing at her protesting back. She still
couldn't feel her legs, but at least the fact it hurt meant something
was still there.

***********************************

"Fuckin' hell." Ranma remarked as he looked down at the motionless form
of his father. "Ya really are a stupid piece o' shit, Dad. What th' fuck
possessed ya ta get yerself this fucked up? Ya gotten a death wish? I
mean, look at ya. Ya look like someone decided ya'd make a good chew toy
or somethin'." He glared at the comatose bear's muzzle. "Ya heal yerself
th' fuck up an' get th' hell outta here, ya hear me? I need yer help, ya
baldy bastard. Anyway, yer bike's alright so what th' fuck're ya waitin'
fer? C'mon, Dad. It's worth stickin' around fer. I mean, my kids already
gotten a dead sound grandpa, I don't want 'em growin' up not knowin' ya.
So get yer fat arse inta gear, huh?"
He paused. There wasn't any answer; not like he'd expected one.
"There's this stuff ya mighta heard 'o, Dad. Herb called it th' Moss o'
Life. We're gonna get some o' it an' sort out Mum's back an' Akane's
eyes wiv it. An' if ya ain't snapped outta it by then I'm gonna get real
pissed at ya... look, I really gotta go. Ya wouldn't believe how fucked
up everyone's been while I wuz away."
He paused and fished around in his pocket, found Genma's keys and dumped
them on the bedside table.
"Oh, by th' way, I brung these. I'll bring yer leathers over later, OK?
See ya Dad."
He squared his shoulders and walked out the door.

***********************************

Doctor Tofu looked up from his records as Ranma walked out of Genma's
room. He immediately caught the look on Ranma's face.
"Are you okay, Ranma?"
Ranma nodded sharply.
"They're gonna be alright, doc. Both o' 'em."
Doctor Tofu watched the angry youth leave; he shook his head.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Ranma has left the building."

***********************************

"Good afternoon Colonel. You're early."
Colonel Honda glowered through his shades at Nabiki.
"How come you didn't tell me you were back from the States, Nabiki?"
Nabiki snorted.
"I tried to. But you had to go and leave your mobile in your desk drawer
again, didn't you? Your aide told me you'd be with me in about an hour.
You made it in half an hour. Now, if you've quite finished grousing,
what brings you here?"
Honda couldn't help it; he started chuckling. It always amazed him how
easily Nabiki made him feel like a small boy caught with his hand in the
cookie jar.
"Scuse me. Ahem. Well, the Minister finally approved the budget you guys
requested. I've already earmarked twenty-four of the latest T74A1's for
your people; they're the best MBT's in Japan. I need a list of the
equipment and support staff you need."
Nabiki's reserved expression vanished, replaced by a relieved smile.
"About fucking time that old goat okayed it." She turned to a nearby
Amazon. "Shan Li, could you get Elder Mi Soon for me? I need her input
here."
Shan Li nodded and ran off. Nabiki turned back to Honda.
"Okay, Colonel. So what do you need help with?"
"Well..."
"Oh, come on. You only ever show up in person if you need something, and
the Minister of Defence only unlocks his vaults if he needs something.
So what gives? Who do we shoot?"
Honda chuckled again. She'd got him again.
"Not who. What."
"Meaning?"
"Nabiki, what knowledge do you have of necromancy?"
"Necromancy? As in talking to ghosts or as in raising zombies?"
"The shambling corpse kind."
"Not much. I know it exists, but that's about as far as it goes."
"Well, we have a necromancer running rampant in Shinjuku Ward. There's
been fifteen graveyards emptied so far, and someone desecrated two
shrines last night. The big boss is pissed and the Minister wants to try
you guys out. 600 Military Intelligence Brigade have been checking it
out... they've gotten a fix on two of the sites whoever is doing this
has set up. They want your people to clean this up within the week."
Nabiki whistled. So whoever was doing this had pissed off Emperor
Hirohoto. And now Hirohoto was reaching for the biggest available hammer
- the Special Operations Groups. And since they were the new kids on the
block, the Minister and Honda had probably agreed to hand this job off
on them.
"Interesting. Ah, Mi Soon - there you are."
Nabiki proceeded to pass on everything Honda had just said.
Mi Soon for her part frowned.
"Either a necromancer or the worst necrophile in known history and a
bunch of wannabe devil worshippers. Any other information Colonel?"
Honda nodded. "Yup. It's definitely a necromancer. One of my people was
watching when a van delivered what was taken from the first shrine. It
was driven by a walking corpse, and unloaded by four others."
"Right. Fire is the easiest way to destroy a zombie. Or an animate
skeleton for that matter."
"In highly flammable buildings? In industrial estates?"
Mi Soon shrugged. "Can you organise a bulk load of fire extinguishers
filled with liquid nitrogen? And at least thirty FN MAG general purpose
machine guns with at least eight thousand rounds each?"
"Er, okay, but - why?"
"Think about it. What is a zombie? A corpse. What happens if you shoot a
frozen corpse? It smashes rather violently. Especially if it's already
cracked itself by trying to move."
"Couldn't you just take them out hand-to-hand?"
"Colonel, you have no idea what zombie tastes like. My girls are
*werewolves*. When they get up close and personal, they bite. Anyway, I
have no intention of letting one of those objects get too close."
"So what *does* zombie taste like?"
"What it is - a rotting corpse. And I most explicitly *do not* need a
bunch of my best girls laid up with food poisoning. Believe me when I
tell you, when you're in battle form your instincts are not easy to
ignore. You fight it, you bite it. You bite it, you eat it. And you are
what you eat. Skeletons are okay to chew on, but not zombies. Especially
if they've been dead for more than a few hours."
When he left, Honda took the distinct impression that the Amazons were
weirdos with him. Not like he hadn't been warned.

***********************************

What a certain person by the name of Ranma hadn't realised when he
charged out of Dr. Tofu's place and jumped on his bike was that he was
being watched by another two certain persons by the name of Ukyo and
Yukiko Kounji. Said duo were sat in a certain Land Rover, having noticed
a certain motorcycle earlier and gone investigating. Ukyo had recently
purchased a restaurant premises about five blocks north of Dr. Tofu's
practise (putting it smack between the Tendo dojo and Dr. Tofu's clinic)
and a certain Gixer looked thoroughly unique. Maybe one in every hundred
motorbikes in Japan could be counted as a rat. Maybe one in every fifty
of *those* was based on a Suzuki GSXR. Maybe one in every ten of *them*
had no fairing. And maybe one in every five of *those* had no silencers.
But only one of *them* was supercharged, fitted with tyres wider than
those on most cars, had slab yokes festooned with no less than eight
headlamps, had a seat subframe cobbled together from scaffolding tube
and was ridden by a six foot broad-shouldered man with long hair and a
flame painted crash helmet who openly carried a Kalashnikov AK47 on his
person.
Yukiko glanced across at Ukyo. Ukyo nodded and fired the Land Rover's
engine.
"Time to even the score."

***********************************

Ranma was just turning into the street the dojo was on when he got the
'something-behind-me' feel. Flicking a glance in the wing mirror he
instantly spotted the beat-up Land Rover. He snapped the gearbox down
into fifth and gassed the bike hard, letting the engine's stonking
high-end power throw the bike into a momentary wheelie. He threw the
bike into a skid as the driveway came up, then gassed it straight into
the garden, threw it sideways, rammed his boot into the ground, locked
both brakes and slid the bike to a neck-jarring halt beside the pond.
Kasumi looked up from where she was sharing a joint with Mu Tze.
"Oh wow man, what's the like, rush?"
Seeing his expression as he yanked his lid off she sobered as much as
possible, left the joint with Mu Tze and went looking for the others.
Ranma watched the Landrover back up from where it had overshot the
driveway. Recognition dawned in his face as it ground to a halt and the
two occupants climbed out.
"Well I'll be a... It is ya, ain't it Yukiko? Who's th' guy?"
"Are you trying to tell me," Ukyo enquired, "You don't recognise me?"
"Nope. An' anyway, what's wiv th' voice mate? Ain't yer balls dropped
yet or somethin'? An' who th' fuck are ya?"
"Ukyo Kounji. Don't tell me-"
"Cut th' shit pal, I ain't stupid, I happen ta know Ukyo's a girl."
"Ranma, what the hell happening?"
Ranma flicked a glance sideways at Shampoo. She had an RPK slung on her
shoulder and looked extremely doubtful.
"That's what I'm tryin' ta find out, hon."
"Did you say Kounji?" Soun asked from where he'd been working on his
bike.
"Yes, I did. Does that mean something to you?"
"Hold it, hold it, hold it. What th' fuck's goin' on around here?" Ranma
gestured wildly with his AK. "I mean, I know ya gotta be Yukiko, either
that or ya nicked them earrings Ryoga made offa her. I know that's
Ukyo's old man's oversized spatula. But that still don't mean ya managed
ta..." He stopped dead in his tracks, scratched his chin and glowered at
Ukyo.
"Ya ever hear o' Jusenkyo?"
"Jusenky-what?"
Yukiko winced.
"That cursed training ground in China? What about it?"
"He already answered my question." Ranma snapped. "From th' blank look
he ain't never been there, so that means he ain't th' Ukyo I usta hang
out wiv."
"Oh? And why not?" Ukyo enquired.
"Because yer a bloke, fucknugget. An' I don't need ta be hit between th'
eyes ta know a girl when I see her. Sure, Ukyo wuz a contrary little
bitch when she felt like it. But she also happened ta be onea my best
mates, an' I make a habit o' knowin' what gender me friends are."
Ukyo snorted and hauled his jacket off; he angrily threw it on the
Landrover's bonnet. The kevlar vest followed it.
"Get this straight you son-of-a-bitch - I'm fucking *FEMALE*!"
Ranma considered said half-naked figure. He considered the fact she had
a load of far too tight looking bandages wound round her chest. He
thought about it.
"Is you fucking apeshit?" Shampoo asked.
Soun started rhythmically beating his head off his bike's seat and
chanting "Damn you Akira." over and over again.
Mu Tze fell over slowly.
Yukiko shrugged expressively.
Ranma exploded.
"So what th' fuck's th' deal wiv that? Are ya fuckin' nuts? Or are ya
just tryin' ta give yerself gangrene or somethin'? An' anyway why th'
fuck are ya both lookin' so pissed off? It ain't like it's my fault yer
both fucked in th' head! I mean, fer fuck sake! I turn me back fer a few
years an' me mates turn inta a buncha total screwballs! An' what th'
fuck's that mean Tendo?"
Soun groaned.
"Akira got in an argument with the Kounji line about eight or nine
hundred years back. I smell his style."
"Ya what?"
"Your great-grandfather never left things unfinished."
"So what's that got ta do wiv it?"
"Nothing." Ukyo snapped, putting her kevlar back on. "I've got a bone to
pick with you, dickbrain."
"WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME EXACTLY WHAT TH' FUCK'S
GOIN' ON AROUND HERE BEFORE I GO APE AN' BREAK SOMETHIN'?"
"Exactly what the hell has this Akira character got to do with that
piece of shit ditching me like a set of worn-out Y-fronts?" Ukyo asked
Soun.
Ranma goggled at her. "What th' fuck are ya talkin' about?"
"Arranged marriage?" Ukyo asked. "Ring any bells?"
"Um..."
"Stealing a dowry? Breaking promises?" Ukyo suggested.
"Er..."
"Leaving me in the street?"
"Nope." Ranma replied. "That ain't like I'm rememberin' th' last time I
saw ya."
"Okay," Yukiko commented. "So how do you remember the last time you saw
us then, Saotome?"
"Don't call me that, it makes me look fer Dad." He paused. "It wuz th'
day after yer dad managed ta blow up his Landrover's engine. I was
sittin' havin' a fag wiv Ryoga when Dad popped up rantin' about th' pigs
an' how we hadta get outta there. So we did. I noticed ya runnin' down
th' road wavin' frantically, so I waved back at th' same time as gassin'
outta there. I mean, I wuz like, eight an' ridin' a bike on th' road,
an' Dad had a buncha pot an' a sawn-off shotgun on him so I guess ya can
understand us gettin' outta there if there wuz pigs about. Weren't there
any pigs?"
"No! The next time I saw any police was later that day when Dad reported
the theft!"
"Theft? What theft?"
"The money you fucking stole, numbnuts!"
"Money?" Ryoga asked blankly from where she was propping up a wall.
"What money? First time either of us had any money was that time someone
tried to mug Ranma in Osaka in '93."
"Hang on sis. Ain't Dad got a buncha cash stowed on his bike what's been
there fer years?"
"What, that massive bundle he's got stuffed under the seat cover? Yup.
Dunno if it's still there, you know the way Dad blows dough."
Ukyo finally lost her remaining shreds of temper, grabbed her outsize
spatula and twatted Ranma round the back of her head with it.
"DICKBRAIN!"
Ranma tugged one of his rusty lengths of chain out of his pocket and
started whirling it round his head. Shampoo snapped her machine gun's
safety off. Ryoga hauled out her spanner. Soun grabbed his naginata from
where it was leaning on the side of his bike. Mu Tze fell over again.
Kasumi remarked 'Wow, man' from the sidelines. Nabiki stuck her head out
the house, saw what the fuss was about, grabbed a pair of MP5K's off the
shoe rack and popped the rest of the way out the house. Mi Soon (who had
followed Nabiki) cracked her knuckles and smirked.
Ranma glowered at the others.
"Hold it, guys. I'm not sure what th' fuck's goin' on, but she's me
oldest best mate. No shootin'. Ryoga, Shampoo, ya guys check under Dad's
bike seat. Th' rest o' ya keep Yukiko occupied."
Yukiko went into reverse as Ukyo re-evaluated the situation. Mi Soon
crossed her arms and started walking straight towards Yukiko, still
smirking the whole way.
Ukyo took another swing with her outsize spatula; Ranma, who had
reclassified it as a polearm, ducked under the blow, let the chain wrap
round the spatula's handle, grabbed the free end of the chain in his
other hand then rolled abruptly backwards, letting go of both ends of
the chain and ripping another length out of his pocket as he felt Ukyo
lose her grip. He smacked his boot into the butt of the spatula as he
came upright, embedding it firmly in the side of the house.
"Shit!" Ukyo commented. She snatched the bandolier of ordinary sized
spatulas off the Landrover's bonnet where she'd ditched it along with
her coat and whipped her arm clear of the swept chain Ranma had aimed
for her wrist, letting her kevlar vest stop the blow. It staggered her
all the same - Ranma nodded.
"Good ta see ya ain't slipped."
"Chew on this, dungbreath!"
'This' was a rapid series of five spatulas, all of which she launched it
him in rapid succession. He deflected one with the chain, ducked the
next two, knocked another clear with the studs on the back of his left
glove and failed to avoid the final one; it thunked into his chest,
revealing itself to (as he had suspected) be razor sharp in the process.
Uyko's triumphant smirk vanished as he casually knocked it out and
caught his lump of chain out the air where he'd lost his grip on it.
"So what's that supposed ta do? Hurt?"
Yukiko groaned from where Mi Soon, Kasumi, Nabiki, a wobbling Mu Tze and
Spike had her backed up against the Landrover's loadbed.
"At least tell me you spiked 'em with wolfsbane, Ukyo."
"Aconite's poisonous and I use these things fighting *humans*, jackass.
Not like I'm trying to get my ass busted for murder."
Ranma snorted.
"Sounds pretty fuckin' weird from someone who just put a mutant throwin'
knife straight inta me ribcage. So, yer gonna play rough? I can live wiv
that."
He shapeshifted. Ukyo lost her grip on the bandolier and staggered
backwards, eyes wide and hands shaking.
"You... wha... NINE FUCKING FOOT?!?!?!"
Ranma caught her wrist and casually picked her up by it, lifting her to
eye level.
"Yeah. An' in th' game I'm in, we play hardball. Ya don't wanna start
somethin' ya can't finish, Ukyo. I dunno what th' fuck yer beef is,
probably somea th' bullshit Akira had Dad pull. But I ain't standin'
around an' takin' any shit fer it." He put her back down, hauled her
giant spatula out the side of the house and handed it to her; she mutely
ditched it in the back of the Land-Rover.
"Bro," Ryoga called across. "I think you oughta take a look at this."

Finito.

NOTES
Next - For every problem solved another two crawl out the woodwork...
Laters,
Calum 'Doghead' Wallace.

GLOSSARY OF TERMS
Alternator - Higher tech version of a generator.

Artic - The UK term for a semi truck. Short for 'articulated lorry'.

Astro-Creep 2000 - The title of a White Zombie album.

Binned - crashed. Normally means written off. Derived from 'bin' as in
'rubbish bin' (the British term for a trash can)

Chain lube - Motorbike chain lubrication oil. Comes in a spray can and
looks a bit like snot.

Conrod (connecting rod) - The bit of metal that connects the piston to
the crankshaft. Shaped approximately like a flat dumbbell.

Engine clicking - An internal combustion engine heats up when run. Run
it hard and it heats up more, then when you switch off the engine will
start emitting a series of sharp clicks as the metal cools and
contracts.

Final drive - the drive chain that goes from the gearbox to the back
wheel and the cogs (final drive sprockets) that it runs on. Not to be
confused with the primary drive - the chain/sprocket or belt/pulleys
between the engine and gearbox.

Gasflowing - trimming off excess metal from inside the cylinder heads to
aid the burn rate of fuel within the engine. Gives a small horsepower
boost.

Gixer - Slang for a Suzuki GSXR (one of the craziest bikes they make).

Happy gas - See 'Nitrous oxide.'

Header tank - Tank that contains the spare water for the radiator on a
sealed cooling system as found in most cars and some high performance
bikes.

Honda CG125 - Small single - cylinder 4-stroke road bike. Not very much
of anything but supremely reliable and dirt cheap. It's reliability
stems from having very little to go wrong and a low - revving 4-stroke
engine.

Honda 250 Superdream - CB250. The next up the Honda model range from the
CG125 and just a bigger version of the same.

Honda 500 Superdream - CB500. A CB250 with a bigger bore and heavier
frame.

Honda Fireblade - Insane Honda sportsbike. Mad but beginning to show
it's age.

Kill switch - The engine's 'off' switch. Turns off power to the
ignition.

Kuso - As far as I know this is the Japanese translation of the word
'Shit'.

Lid / skidlid - Slang for a crash helmet.

Nitrous oxide - Laughing gas. A petrol - nitrous mix burns faster than a
petrol - air mix therefore produces more horsepower and more wear in the
engine.

Ratbike - A motorbike made to look as fucked up and unroadworthy as
possible while still being street legal. Normally painted flat black.

Steering damper - a long, thin shock absorber that fits between the
forks and the frame. Helps steady the steering. A steering damper is
essential for disabled bikers who have lost the use of one arm as
without it there's no way you'd be able to steer at low speed or pull
away one armed.

Stocker - unmodified factory-built vehicle; I think this comes from the
term 'sales stock'.

Supercharger - A pump driven off the crank that forces more air into the
engine thus forcing it to run faster.

Toby - An Inverness Collegeism; slang meaning something along the lines
of widget, gizmo or thingy. Derived from angling parlance (toby = a
small wooden fish used as a lure.) May be related to the epithet 'Toby
Tishbein' and can be said 'Tobyracho' for no apparent reason. (I'm not
making this up! Honest!)

Top yoke - The yokes are two pieces of metal that hold the front forks
together and  to the bike. The top yoke is the upper one. Known as
triple clamps in the US.

JASDF - Japanese Air Self Defence Force. The Japanese air force.

JGSDF - Japanese Ground Self Defence Force. The ground forces arm of the
Japanese military.

JSDF - Japanese Self Defence Force. The collective Japanese armed
forces.

What likes - Slack Scottish grammar. Means something along the lines of
'please could you explain that'. Only considerably less posh.

Wheelie bin - a square green plastic trashcan about the size of a normal
bin, with a flip top and two wheels.