Hellfire Days and Wild Knights ch8

[Atlan]

Thanks to TerraBull for the name. Thanks are also due to Josh Temple, Sopchoppy, and Dragonlord for inspiration. Thanks to Questara and J. St.C. Patrick, and TerraBull for proofreading previous chapters for me. Especially J. St.C. Patrick, who uses some kind of dark magic to wring coherency out of my spelling. Oh, thanks to all the guys at Fukufics.com, for all their input, ideas and inspiration.
I stepped through the portal back into our hotel room. There was quite a crowd. Emma stood in the middle, with Gateway standing next to her. On her other side was a girl a couple of years older than me that I’d never met. She wore dark sunglasses and a leather pants/shirt combo. Briefly I had to wonder if she’d killed Pantyhose to get that much cow skin. In front of them were Bishop, the two-headed green guy, and a lump on the floor with a sheet thrown over it. For a moment I thought I saw it move, but I dismissed it as being my imagination. After all, I was still terif- wary after seeing that cat. Evil little thing.
I looked to Emma, and Shampoo and Ucchan followed suit, though Ucchan first dropped the guy from the base (she was STILL carrying him), and kicked him on the head. The new two followed our example, and looked at the White Queen as well. I leaned forward, and whispered to Bishop, “She’s our boss. She found out where you were, and coordinated the everything. Her name’s Emma.”
Bishop nodded and stepped forward. “It seems we have you to thank for the jail break, Miss. I owe you a lot. I’m Lucas Bishop.”
The left head of the green guy spoke next. “And I am Ivan Goratschin. This squirt here is my little brother Ivanovitch.” He pointed at the right head.
“Hey! I’m the brains of this operation, and you aren’t the oldest, we’re identical!”
I had the feeling that this was all going to take a while. And I really, REALLY hate long boring speeches. Give me a good old-fashioned fight any day. I directed that thought at Emma, and hoped it worked.
The woman with sunglasses stepped away from Emma’s side, and came over to the three of us. She had the most expressionless face I’d ever seen. She had short hair, and for a moment I was reminded of Akane. But Akane had always been passionate, always. Angry, happy, sad, determined, always passionate. Except right at the end. I shook my head slightly. Stupid memories. Stupid Tomboy, letting her guard down like that. Stupid girl body wanting to cry.
“There is a first-aid kit in your bedroom,” she murmured. Her voice was as emotionless as her face. I nodded a silent thanks and wandered off. Shampoo and Ukyo stayed behind, listening.
In the bedroom, the first thing I did was shut the door. Then I stripped off, and took a tally of my injuries. My feet were cut up as hell, some of the cuts still bleeding. My legs, up to the knees, were also cut, but fewer and shallower. My head had hit something hard, and was throbbing like mad. Those could just be ignored. My side, on the other hand, was a bit more serious. I’d been passing it off as nothing, and the fact that it’d stopped bleeding had made everyone think it was more of the same.
The thing about us martial artists is that we have more control over our body than most people. We can get that extra inch out of a punch; we can move a little faster than someone with the same fitness just because we know all our muscles inside and out. This means that with some wounds, we can tense the right muscles and stop the blood flow for a while. I’d done just that with the three cuts on my side. They hadn’t hit anything vital, but I needed stitches, and soon.
But stitching up a dirty wound is a stupid idea, so a shower was in order. The bedroom had a shower connected, so I hopped right in. It took a moment or two to figure it out; seriously, furos are way better.
As I enjoyed the warmth, I couldn’t help but remember my situation. After all, being a girl in hot water wasn’t something that ever happened to me. Except for that time that Herb locked me, I was always a guy in hot water.
I could remember when I figured out my curse was locked like it was yesterday. It was one of those memories that I’d never forget. It was right there with the day I saw Akane, turned into a doll by Safron, and later as I killed him- or when I held Akane’s limp body, crying.
Although, in a way, finding out I was locked was the least memorable of those memories. I mean, it was just more of the same. There was no life or death factor; there was nothing that hadn’t happened again and again. So my curse was locked- then a long trip was involved, a battle against a new enemy, Akane might get kidnapped again. Same old, same old. Hell, it was pretty boring, how I found out.
But it was still unnerving, being a girl in hot water, so I finished my shower quickly. I dried off, and wrapped the towel around myself, and walked over to the bed. The first aid kit had everything, so I rubbed some antiseptic over the cut.
The next part was going to be unpleasant. As I discovered when my legs were healing from the incident with Pink and Link, I don’t respond too well to anesthetic. My body fights it off better than it does most poison, and I’m virtually immune. They had to use morphine on me to set the bones. And if you’ve never had morphine before, trust me- you do NOT want to do medical things after you’ve taken it. That meant that I’d be stitching myself up without any barrier between the pain and me.
Still, I could do it. I’d seen the doctors do it often enough to be able to do it myself. Heh, Martial Arts Sewing revised: Flesh Fold! I chucked to my self at that thought, and got to work.
The lowest slash wasn’t too bad. The highest one had me hissing a little, but I managed ok. It was the middle one that was the worst. It was deeper than the rest, and a lot tenderer. I swore quite a few times as I worked. There was even one moment when I sewed my finger to the wound- that had me really pissed off.
…
“So the Hellfire Club is trying to make it so everyone’s a mutant?” Asked a slightly puzzled Bishop. He had resisted all attempts to call him Lucas.
Emma shook her head. “Not quite. I’ve had genetic studies done; eventually, everyone will be a mutant. That will take about seven hundred years, on it’s own. I want to hurry the process along, cut a few centuries off the time. The main problem is keeping mutant kind intact that long.”
“Intact?” asked a confused Ivanovitch.
“The Sentinel program was intended to hunt down mutants and exterminate them. There are other programs in development, other fanatics, who want to wipe mutants from the face of the world. To counter them, the Hellfire club works through two different means: economical, and the Hellions.
Economic is fairly straight forward. Use leverage against the government to keep them from enacting anti-mutant legislation. Blackmail, bribe and threaten to make sure that no one has the money to enact large-scale plans.”
“And where do the Hellions fit in?”
“They are the military side of the club. When something can’t be bought, it can be broken. They were disbanded in 1945, due to the rarity of chi adepts.”
“Chi adepts?”
“I’ll answer that one,” Ukyo piped up. “Chi is the energy of the body. The best martial artists can use chi for lots of things. Ranma can use it to form energy blasts, and make tornados. Shampoo and I aren’t that good, but we can use it to reinforce our mussels. We can jump over a two story house without much trouble.”
“Indeed, a single chi adept can be more dangerous than a small army. It was discovered back in 1800 that a small group of chi adepts were the most effective force to use. But the last one that we trained died before my time.”
Bishop frowned. “1945… Why does that date sound familiar?” The black man mused.
Emma chuckled. “That was the end of World War Two. Let’s just say that when Hitler committed suicide, it wasn’t altogether his idea. The last Hellion used his entire chi to kill Hitler, at the expense of his own life.”
Bishop’s eyes bugged out in understanding. “But Mutants can do the same stuff. Is that why you want us? To join your Hellions?”
The White Queen gave a small smile. “Well, yes and no. Yes, I would greatly appreciate it is you were to be a member of the Hellions. No, in the sense that there would be a good chance that eventually, you would join the Hellfire club proper.”
“There is another problem with that,” Shampoo interjected. “You haven’t found a leader for them yet.”
The quiet woman, Sage, who had been silent until now, chose this moment to join the conversation. “Hopefully, Ranma will take up that position. She has far greater chi manipulation skills than many masters of martial arts.”
Bishop looked around. “Where did she go? She did get back with the rest of us, right?” He sounded worried. Of course, considering how much of an eyeful he got of her, it was to be expected.
All the conscious women in the room nodded. “I sent her to her room, to make use of the first-aid kit there. She seemed to require it.” Sage half lied. Saying that she sent Ranma out of the room so that Bishop wouldn’t ignore Emma and spend the whole time staring at a pair of naked breasts wouldn’t be diplomatic.
“Well, someone should see how she is,” Bishop started eagerly, only to be interrupted by a string of Japanese from Ranma’s room. Ukyo and Emma blushed, Shampoo looked a little confused, and Bishop, Jeeves, Sage, Ivan and Ivanovitch were completely lost. “What was that?”
Shampoo frowned cutely. “I must have misheard that. My Japanese isn’t that good, and I know what she said isn’t possible.”
“I saw it done once,” Ukyo began, only to blush even further. “I mean, never mind. Lets go give Ranchan a hand.” She walked off, Shampoo following.
Emma cleared her throat. “Discussions can continue later, I believe. Jeeves, would you show our new guests their rooms? Sage, take that cat-mutant to my suite. There’s a secure room there that can hold it for now, until I can figure out what to do with it.” Everyone moved off to do as she said, leaving just her and the unconscious guard in the room.
…
I let off another string of curses as I started the next stitch. So far I’d stitched my fingers to the wound twice, to each other once, and had to redo the all the stitches when I realized I’d been using normal thread instead of actual nylon. Boy, had I felt stupid.
As I slipped for the millionth time, and swore up a storm, a pair of steel hands latched mine, while soft arms encircled my shoulders. I sighed, and looked back to see my fiancée and my wife looking at me with an odd combination of worry, pity, and anger.
“Ayah! Arien! You should have said something!”
“You jackass! Why didn’t you mention you were hurt?”
“Hey!” I rebutted indigently. “It wasn’t that bad!”
“Yeah, and Okonomiyaki tastes bad.” Oh oh. When Ucchan starts using bad Okonomiyaki as a contrast, she’s serious.
I was periphelly aware of Shampoo moving behind me, but kept my attention on Ucchan. “Look, I was doing just fine, see? Two cuts done, one to go. No worries, right?”
A sexy contralto came from behind me, hot breath blowing across my neck. “Wo da Arien,” I turned around nervously. Shampoo was looking at me with lidded eyes, her dress showing even more than normal. She took a deep breath, and jiggled slightly. My eyes bugged out as I watched the effect her actions had on her …assets.
Then I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head, and everything went dark.
…
Ukyo pulled a dented combat spatula off the mass of red hair, and watched Shampoo pull her dress up slightly. She gave the Amazon a grin. “Lets get that cut sewed up before he comes to.”
…
Jeeves walked down the hall of the motel, the rescued prisoners following. They were looking around in awe at how extravagant the place was. Bishop was the first to find his tongue. “Is this a mansion or something?”
Jeeves resisted the temptation to laugh. “Not quite, master Bishop. This is a hotel mistress Frost owns. This entire floor is set aside for her and any personal guests she might have, and there are mounted holographic projectors to fool the room service into believing that any obvious mutants look like regular people.”
“So we can just wander around, and order room service ‘an all?” piped up an excited Ivanovitch. His older head smiled hopefully.
The aged butler nodded. “Don’t worry about the money either. Remember: you do get paid for being in the Hellfire Club, and there are perks. In this case- free room service.”
Ivan put a hand on his chin theatrically. “Promises of food have caused loyalties more strong than any religion ever has.” Bishop grinned. This was the start of a good friendship.
…
Sage puffed as she dragged a purple panther along through the hotel. She was irritated, she would say, if asked. It would be more accurate to say that she was furious. She wasn’t the brawn, she was the brains! If computer hacking was needed, call Sage! If probability calculations were needed, call Sage! If infiltration, intuition, diplomacy were needed, call Sage! If heavy objects needed moving, call someone else.
A janitor walking past heard a gravely grating sound. He sweatdropped upon realizing it was the leather-clad woman’s teeth grinding together.
…
Emma looked over the (still) unconscious soldier. There was no outward clue to his telepathic immunity, nothing that made him look any different from any other soldier. So- time to investigate.
Working quickly, she removed all his clothing, leaving him in his underwear- she would have removed it, but it was wet. The White Queen wrinkled her nose, then fetched some deodorant.
Two cans later, she was ready to continue. Off came the dog tags, the ear piercing, and a bracelet. She tried to scan him again, and got a truly odd response. The normal brain gives off telepathic and empathic broadcasts at all times. There were only two ways to avoid that. One was with the use of mental shields. They were a way of marshaling ones thoughts, putting a barrier between their thoughts and the outside world.
The other way was used in Magneto’s helmet, and in the walls of the lower part of the Black Hand base. It was difficult, but was capable of creating an impenetrable telepathic zone. No thought wave could pass through the metal alloy.
But this soldier exhibited neither. There seemed to be no ‘wall’ in his mind, and yet none of his thoughts escaped. It was like his mind was… a valve! Emma snapped her fingers. That explained it! She couldn’t read him before because he was so far away. None of his thoughts escaped, a telepath would have to go inside his mind all on their own, with none of the unconscious help that an average mind gave.
‘But how?’ Emma asked herself. She rolled the soldier over, examining his head. There was still no outward sign of what had been done to him. So that meant one thing: Time to call in the experts. No matter how irritating they were.
…
Shampoo finished up the last stitch, and put the needle and thread away. She took a moment to survey her handiwork. The two cuts Ranma had managed to stitch up were acceptable, but the attempts on the middle one were terrible. With all the activity, the wound was actually worse than it had been. She pointed this out to Ukyo.
“Well, no fighting for Ranchan for a while, that’s for sure!” The chef proclaimed. Of the three, Ranma was actually the easiest damaged. Ukyo could shrug off just about anything in her metal form, and if her human form was damaged she’d just turn into metal by reflex. Shampoo had the Bakusai Tenketsu training, making her almost invulnerable. Ranma had none of those advantages.
A sly smirk crawled across the amazons face. “I think we can find something else for him to do, to keep his strength up…”
Ukyo smirked back, the frowned. “Can he do… that? With his stitches and all?”
“…damn.” Shampoo muttered. “Yes, but we’ll have to take it easy. Those stitches aren’t meant for too much movement.”
“How do you know so much about this stuff? Amazon training?”
Shampoo giggled. “No, I mostly stayed away from that side of things at home. It was when I moved here, to get revenge on that pesky redhead that I learned. I moved in with a doctor, as his nurse. It was before you arrived in Nerima.”
“Did I ever meet this doctor?”
A sad frown crossed the Amazon warrior’s face. “No, Tofu disappeared before long. I still wonder what happened to him.” She grinned. “I think grandmother had her eye on him!”
“How old was he?” Ukyo asked tentatively.
“About 30!”
“Gak!!!”
…
Sage walked into the White Queen’s room. As expected, it was white to the point of being almost painful on the eyes. Wallpaper, furniture, carpet, everything. It was just like Emma’s room in her mansion, or in any of the other dozens of hotels she used all over the world.
She walked along to the bedrooms, taking a mental tally- Emma’s room, a library/study, an indoor pool, and a cell. Sage was always a little worried when she saw one of these. After all, a woman as rich as Miss Frost could have converted another room on the floor into one, or even a whole building. Why would she always have one right by her bedroom?
But thoughts about her employer’s sexual habits could wait; there were tasks to be done first. Sage dragged the panther inside the cell, and locked it in there. It was a fairly typical jail cell- small, cement, and lacking a toilet seat. The only ways it differed from something you would find in the local police station were the NO2 sprayers and the hidden cameras. Well, that and the manacles on one wall.
Sage really tried not to think about what the White Queen would do with them.
…
Emma was on her cellphone, finishing up a conversation when Shampoo and Ukyo walked into the room. She had a hand massaging her forehead.
“Listen to me nephew: you WILL be there when I get home. You WILL be ready to do what I want, and there will be NO convention. Wait for the next one. No, I don’t care. Bye.” She put her phone away and looked at the Asian girls. “How is she?”
Shampoo grimaced. “It could be worse. The claws missed any organs, but the cuts are pretty deep. If she hadn’t been stopping the blood flow, she wouldn’t have made it to the bedroom.”
Emma looked stricken. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Yes, she’ll be fine with a couple of week’s rest.”
“The problem’ll be making sure she actually rests,” Ukyo chimed in. “I love that Jackass, but she does push herself too hard. Stubborn as a mule.” Shampoo nodded.
The White Queen frowned. “How exactly are we going to make sure that happens?”
Shampoo raised an eyebrow. “Were you going to ask her about the Hellions as soon as she was available?” Emma nodded. “Then the moment she hears this, she’ll be trying to train Bishop and Ivan. That’ll pull the stitches for sure.”
“Maybe we could wait till she gets better?” put in Ukyo.
The Amazon laughed. “When was the last time a secret got kept around Ranma? It’ll slip out eventually. It always does.”
Emma thought about it for a moment. “If she finds out, she’ll start training. We can’t keep the secret. We can’t let her train.” She snapped her fingers. “What if we kept her away from Bishop and Goratschin altogether? She can’t train someone if she’s nowhere near them.”
Ukyo and Shampoo grinned in unison. “That would work.”
A dreamy look came across Emma’s face. “When I left home, I was about your age. I wanted to get as far away from my family as possible. I moved here from England. When I was wondering just what to do in the weeks before I went to Harvard, I stumbled across this American idea.”
“What idea?”
“Well, it wouldn’t work in my country or yours- too small. China either- not developed enough. In fact, it would only work in America, Australia, and Europe. It’s called a ‘Road Trip’.”
The Onomyaiki chef rolled her eyes. “Road trip. You mean just drive somewhere? We DO have cars in Japan.”
“Some would say that most of them end up here,” Emma laughed. “But this is America. Say what you will about all the morbidly obese people and gun fanatics, it does have good points. Driving along the open road, just you and the people you care about. No worries, no responsibilities, nothing. Stop where you feel like, eat when you feel like. See the sights.”
“That does sound nice…:” Shampoo mussed.
“And it would be about two weeks of driving from here to the place I was planning to move to.” Emma pointed out.
“She could heal properly…” considered Ukyo.
Emma delivered the coup-de-grace. “It would be a proper honeymoon…”
“It’s a plan!” The two mutants announced. “Now lets tell Ranchan/Arien!”
…
“Alright old Ghoul, what happened this time?” I sighed tiredly. It had been a hard day- explosions everywhere, the entire local loony population coming out to play, and a chance a cure wasted. I just wanted to get it all over with. Hopefully this could be wrapped up in an hour or so.
Opposite me, a woman with more wrinkles than most retirement villages rubbed her chin thoughtfully. That was a bad sign. She hadn’t bopped me with her stick. She ALWAYS bopped me with the stick.
“…I’m not altogether certain, son-in-law.” She finally said. “I do have some ideas though.”
“I don’t remember getting splashed with any special water, ya know? Nothing that could have come outa Herb’s ladle.” Stupid Musk and their ways of getting a girlfriend.
She blinked. “I hadn’t even thought of that.” Whoa, not often I outsmart the old hag. Except when marrying Shampoo was involved, of course. “Tell me, when was the last time you saw Ryoga?”
I snickered to myself. “He tried to hit me for loosing his chance to get cured about an hour ago, then got splashed and trotted off for water. Haven’t seen him since.”
Cologne hopped onto her staff. “Then I have an idea.”
“What? Magic?”
“No. Something else.”
I scratched my head. “What else could affect a magical curse except magic?”
“Something similar happened to Shampoo a week ago.” She avoided answering my question.
“Shit! Is she locked too?” Man oh man. Being a cat forever. I wouldn’t wish that upon Principle Kuno, let alone Shampoo. My mission to look for a cure doubled in importance.
“No. She’s cured.”
Phew. Wait a moment… “Why did she get cured and not me? How did she get cured? Can ya cure me?” More questions would have poured out, but wooden stick to the head interrupted me.
“Shut up and listen! Here is what I know and what I do not. You are locked. Shampoo is cured. Mousse, Ryoga, your father, Pantyhose Tarou and Herb are the same as always.”
“Herb and Tarou? You sure?”
I was rewarded with another bop to the head. “I may be three hundred years old, but I do know how to work a phone.
Now listen- having thought about it, I have some thoughts. The curse didn’t lock just because you had it for so long- if it had, Genma, Ryoga or Tarou would have been affected. I think what happened is that the curse was confused by changes in your body.”
I went bug eyed. “Hinako-sensei never mentioned that puberty locked magical curses.” Bop.
The old Ghoul was getting pissed off now. “Are you even listening? Tarou was cursed before you, and is older than you. HE isn’t locked.”
“Then what happened, and how do I cure it?” Whys could wait. Getting a cure was more important.
“A week ago, do you remember what happened?” That came out of nowhere.
“Jusendo.” One word. A single small word. Seemed too small to fit everything that happened. My fight against Saffron. Akane almost dying, over and over again. The destruction of the Pools of Sorrow.
“And how did you feel when you lost your cure today? Did it feel like everything had been taken from you? That no matter how hard you tried, it would always be out of reach?” Her voice was softer now. She sounded sympathetic, but still getting to a point. “That’s how my granddaughter felt when she saw you holding Akane, crying over her.”
“So what does that mean?” I asked in a small voice.”
The crone cackled. “Wake up Arien!”
What the hell?
“Now, get up Ranchan!”
I opened my eyes, took one look at two beautiful girls, and curled up into a ball. A second later, I realized just who I was looking at and uncurled. Shamps and Ucchan each grinned at me. “Did I fall asleep?”
Their grins turned a little strained. “Uh… yeah. You were tired after you finished stitching yourself up.” Ucchan said. Shampoo gave her a funny look.
I rubbed by head. “Huh. I must have hit my head hard at that military base, ‘cause it still hurts. What was my cat self up to?” Ukyo started sweating, and looked everywhere around the room except at me.
‘Ranma! Shampoo! Ukyo!’ Emma’s voice called out to us from the other room. Ucchan rushed after the voice, way faster than was necessary. Girls- go figure. Shampoo followed me out, giggling.
Emma was sitting on the floor, next to a naked man. He was the soldier that Ucchan had carried, and boy did he stink. “Ucchan…”
The chef froze in place. “Yes?” She sounded really nervous.
“How many times do I have to tell you to stop scaring people so much?!?”
“Uhh…”
I held up my hand. “I don’t care if he shot you in the head or badmouthed Onomyaiki. Just stop doing it!” Ukyo looked down ashamedly.
Emma’s eyes were bugging out. “This happens often?”
“Yup,” I sighed. “In school, people would occasionally say in passing that they didn’t like Onomyaiki, or that he was pretty gay looking. It never ended well.”
She eyed up Ucchan. “She does look a little butch…”
A vein on Ucchan’s forehead was twitching. “I was pretending to be a guy!”
“Ohhhh…. Oh!” Realization finally caught up with the White Queen. She shook her head. “Anyway, there was a reason I called you all. I may have found out how they shielded from my telepathy.”
“How?”
Emma cleared her throat. “The normal human brain projects its thoughts to a certain extent. This man doesn’t. For all purposes, he’s like a telepathic valve. Signals go in, but they don’t come out again. Unless you were close by, and knew beyond a doubt exactly where he was, he’d be impossible to read.”
Wow. I may not have known much (anything at all) about telepathy, but that sounded pretty impressive. Kinda like me in the Umisen-ken; impossible to find. But in the Umisenken a lucky shot can get me. “Can ya still make him do stuff?” Emma gave me a look. I hastily explained. “If ya cant read him, does other telepathic stuff work?”
She looked impressed. “Some of it does. Reading memories? No. Convincing him that he’s a potato? As easy at it would be for anyone.” Ucchan and Shamps looked impressed too.
I scratched my head and looked at the naked guy. “Are we gonna keep him?”
My cute fiancée’s eyes bugged out. “You want him as a pet?!?”
“NoNoNo!” I panicked, waving my hands in front of me. “Are we going to toss him back to that base, or keep him prisoner?”
Emma looked thoughtful. “It would be useful to know how they manage to shield, but it’s more important that they think we don’t know about it. As much as my expert would love to know about it, I believe we’ll have to send him back. Shampoo, please take him to Gateway. Ukyo, follow her with his clothes.” They nodded, and wandered off. I started after them, but Emma put her hand on my shoulder. “Please wait.”
Ucchan and Shampoo went out the door, carrying their loads. They shut the door, arguing. “Look, if you don’t want to carry soiled clothes, stop making people crap themselves!”
I just sighed. They weren’t trying to beat each other to death any more, but they still argued a fair bit. It was naïve of me to think that they could just put everything behind them like that, but at least they were trying. “So, boss, what do ya want?
‘Boss’ glared at me. Her voice came out colder than ice. “Don’t call me that.” Her voice returned to normal. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“I’m listening.”
“When you went to tend to your wounds, I explained about the Hellfire Club to Ivan and Bishop. I also talked about something I had no time to mention to you- the Hellions.”
That rang a bell. “Didn’t Shampoo tell Bishop we were Hellions?”
She gave a pleased smile. “Yes, I told her to. The name ‘Hellfire’ is well known in certain circles. The Hellions are the fighters of the Hellfire Club. They are usually commanded by an experienced member, and carry out the Hellfire Club’s orders.”
“Ah. You want me to join, right?” Well, if I know anything, it’s fighting.
“I want you to lead them. Teach them, and train them in their mutant powers. Take them into battle.” She cleared her throat. “But teach them honor as well. To know when to fight, and when to show kindness.”
That sounded pretty. I wondered how long she spent thinking that speech up. “Um. I’ve never really taught anyone before. I think I can manage it… I’ll do it.” I rubbed my chin. “Actually, there was something I was thinking about. You got a lota money, right?”
She looked at me with amusement. “I could buy myself a country, and barely effect my bank account at all.”
“And you probably know a few people in the government as well?”
“One or two.”
I decided to come out and say it. “Then do you think that Shampoo and Ucchan could open a café?”
Emma looked a little confused. “But you hardly need the money. You all will be getting more in a month than a café would make in a year.”
She just wasn’t getting it. “But the money isn’t the point. The cooking is.” She looked blankly at me. “Ucchan loves Onomyiki as much as she loves me, and Shampoo’s almost as bad with Chinese food. They LOVE cooking, and having people eat it.”
Understanding shone in the White Queen’s eye. “Ohh. That makes sense. I’ve known any number of people, including myself, who have far more money than they will ever need. They keep in the game though, investing, diversifying, and reinvesting. They do it for joy, not any real need.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s just it. So whatdya say?”
“Easily. Will you be able to train and lead the Hellions as well?”
“Heh, no prob. I’m not as much a chef as they are, I just like eating food.” We both chuckled.
“Shall we ask them what they want in the place?”
I thought about that for a moment. “How about we have it for a surprise. I know just how to have the place look.” I wandered in to the bedroom, and went to Ucchans small pile of possessions. Finding a wallet, I brought it back to Emma. She gave it a look. “Hey, she’s a serious cross dresser,” I pointed out. I rifled through it, pulling out a series of photographs. I passed them to Emma.
Emma looked at each one in turn, sweatdropping almost constantly. I took them as she finished with each one. Ucchan cooking her very first Onomyaiki. A close up of the Onomyaiki. A picture of me, guy form, eating an Onomyaiki, and another of me as a girl eating one. A picture of her shop at Nerima. Another picture of an Onomyaiki. A picture of me, Shampoo and her standing infront of the ship we were about to leave on.
The last picture made Emma blush slightly, and she passed it to me quickly. I took a look and groaned. It was one where Ucchan tried to combine her two great loves- Onomyaiki and me. In bed. The result was fun, and tasty, but not something that should be showed to anyone else.
“The one of her shop should suffice. I’ll make it a little bigger though.” She decided not to mention the last picture, thankfully.
“Yeah,” I added helpfully. “Don’t furnish it. I bet Ucchan wants to do that. Girls always wanna play with decorating and stuff.” Emma gave me the evils. Uh-oh, time for a distraction. “How long do ya think it’ll take?”
Emma looked thoughtful. “Two weeks, I think.”
“How the heck can we keep it a secret for two weeks?” I groaned. Secrets never last. At least I’ve never been able to keep one.
I was answered by a smile. “Let me take care of that.”
…
Authors notes: Yeah, it’s short. And it took ages. Well, I sure have an excuse. Between University Applications (Which they make confusing on purpose, as an IQ test, to see if you are worthy to enter their sacred halls), Christmas Shopping (when you have 2 brothers, 3 sisters and 4 parents, it gets expensive), and family illness (Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer on the day of his 50th birthday, given 6 months to live, and died after 40 days), I haven’t found a lot of time or effort to put into things. Sorry.
Story-Related authors notes: Well, some of you were surprised when I mentioned that Ranma was locked in girl form. Not altogether sure why, as its been mentioned at least twice before then. So to avoid further confusion, I’m gonna say it out loud: RANMA IS LOCKED IN GIRL-FORM!!!!
However, this isn’t one of those “Ranma gets locked in girl form, and becomes a girl mentally” fics. Not that I have anything against them, on the contrary: Sunny and Trimatter in particular have proven just how well they can be done. But I’m not doing one. This is more of a “Ranma locked as a girl, stays a guy in the head, and spends the whole time looking for a cure” fic. And you have my promise that eventually, he’ll find his cure.
Another thing I have to mention is the gender pronoun. Some may have noticed that I’m normally calling Ranma ‘she’. That’s because we fit what we say to the person listening. Shampoo and Ukyo know that Ranma is a guy, and think of him as a him. But even to Emma, who knows Ranma’s a boy, she thinks of him as a girl, as she never spent any time with him before.

[Climhazard]

Ivanovitch.

No offence, but this is not a name... This is...how to say... patronymic name? If i remember this right...

[Metroidvania]

No offence, but this is not a name... This is...how to say... patronymic name? If i remember this right...

I believe he means a surname.
As for myself, it has been a while. Sorry to hear about your father.
Fic-wise, I'm liking the update, even with the small little gaps in my memory.
The x-characters are well done, and I love Sage's internal mutterings. Hope she gets used for something more up her alley soon, though Emma might not let her...
Ranma's internal musings seem a little...westernized, if you get my meaning. They don't detract from the fic, but it is a little noticeable.
Other than that, nice chapter. I laughed at Emma's room, and the explanation of the soldier's mind is well-thought out.
Interesting little (mental?) conversation with Cologne. I like the line about the telephone.
Looking forward to more.

I was periphelly aware of Shampoo moving behind me, but kept my attention on Ucchan. “Look, I was doing just fine, see? Two cuts done, one to go. No worries, right?”

Oh, and this should be Peripherally

[Atlan]

offence, but this is not a name... This is...how to say... patronymic name? If i remember this right...

I didnt invent Ivanovitch. I stole him from Perry Rhodan. In it, his mother named them Ivan Ivanovitch Goratschin, just before she died in childbirth. All the vilagers just called both heads Ivan, treating them as one person. Later on, they was captured by the telepath known as the Mutant Master, and brainwashed Goratschin into obeying his every command. For the sake of conveaniance, the Mutant Master called one head Ivan, and the other Ivanovitch. When Goratschin broke free of the telepathic controll of the mutant master, he stuck with the habit of naming one head Ivan, and the other Ivanovitch.

Ranma's internal musings seem a little...westernized, if you get my meaning. They don't detract from the fic, but it is a little noticeable.

Oops. Ill work on that. Thanks for pointing that out.

[Climhazard]

I didnt invent Ivanovitch. I stole him from Perry Rhodan. In it, his mother named them Ivan Ivanovitch Goratschin, just before she died in childbirth. All the vilagers just called both heads Ivan, treating them as one person. Later on, they was captured by the telepath known as the Mutant Master, and brainwashed Goratschin into obeying his every command. For the sake of conveaniance, the Mutant Master called one head Ivan, and the other Ivanovitch.

Well... That Mutant Master realy strange . "Ivanovitch" is what we call in Russia 'otchestvo' and literally mean "Son of Ivan" .

[Atlan]

That Mutant Master realy strange

Oh yeah. He was. He was american, in a german novel series.

[blackmamuth]

me likes this episude, but...
Does any of them know how to drive? Ranma is a definitive no, Shampoo is perhaps, but she was raised in china, in the middle of nowhere, where there are no roads... Perhaps Ukyo?

[Nadrek]

Well... That Mutant Master realy strange . "Ivanovitch" is what we call in Russia 'otchestvo' and literally mean "Son of Ivan" .

+1
While I don't know the Russian itself, Ivanovitch is a patronym/patronymic, as mentioned, referring to the father, Ivan. Females also use them, and there are a variety of suffixes used.

[Hazard]

Unless I'm mistaken, and Climhazard and Cheb probably know better than I do, a Russian gets a first name, a 'middle' name refering to their mother or father meaning as much as son/daughter of ... and a surname.
Rather similar to Harry's name in the famed book: Harry James Potter, or if you will: Harry, Son of James, of the Potter family. I would take it that
Ivan Ivanovitch Goratschin would thus mean: Ivan, son of Ivan, of the Goratschin family.

A janitor walking past heard a gravely grating sound. He sweatdropped upon realizing it was the leather-clad woman’s teeth grinding together.

Don't you mean gravelly? Gravely makes it appear of a serious nature.

[Atlan]

Unless I'm mistaken, and Climhazard and Cheb probably know better than I do, a Russian gets a first name, a 'middle' name refering to their mother or father meaning as much as son/daughter of ... and a surname.

In order to clear up any confusion: When they were born (as conjoined twins) they were considered one person with two heads, and were named accordingly- as a sinlge person. The Ivan/Ivanovitch for different heads is just their way of differentating themselves from each other.

Does any of them know how to drive? Ranma is a definitive no

Lets put it this way...
Emma: Ranma, can you drive?
Ranma: Of Course! (Well, i've never tried, but how hard can it be?)
On the car front, can anyone recomend a car for their trip?
It must be:
More expencive than any car has a right to be
Convertable
Flashy looking
4 Seater (there will be hitchhikers)
Able to stand a fair amount of damage from an inept driver
Manual gears accepted, but manual prefered.

[Mitchell]

I think you meant Automatic prefered.

[Waruiko]

just go custom if you can't find anything.

[TerraBull]

As for Cars, Classic Pink Caddy Convertible, as seen in that movie with Clint Eastwood? White leather Interior seating, soft Seude covers, ect? Possibly a Lincon Contentinal? Old Style 'Tanks', or you could even get a armored version, so that when they drive around, they might be mistaken for 'HitMen' or at the least 'MIB' types? *Lol* it would be funny to see one of those going fast enough to pace a sports car.

[Waruiko]

Baby seal skin hub caps and all leather cow interior!

[Mitchell]

Baby seal skin hub caps and all leather cow interior!

Its got to be Hot Pink as well. Are you going to eat cheeseburgers in non-bio-degradable containers are chuck them out the window as well?