Joseph Smith
The Godkillers
Chapter One
Hecate is not a Mexican Beer
So here I am one of the great heroes of this brave new world. Doing what I do, sulking on top of some building in the middle of the night, clutching a silver blade in one hand a TEC-9 in the other. I never asked for this damn job. Just like everything else in life I just fell into it. My name is Ranma Saotome, and I hate my life. A little background the world I live in and me is in order before we go in. the world I live in is just one big mess. Something happened about 20 years ago that I really don't understand, and I really don't want to. Apparently, after about two thousand years of debate the gods came back to earth. They brought back with them all their pettiness, in fighting and cruelty. Gods doing that, go figure. That's where I step in. I'm a hunter, we're also known as the Godkillers. Shortly after the gods came back, I was taken from my mother and father, Gemna and Nodoka to train as a godkiller. I haven't killed one yet, but I have killed one of the higher-ranking oni in Japan, this thing called a Happosai. My last partner Ryouga almost died that night and he still hasn't recovered. He wandered out of his hospital bed one day and no one has seen him since. The docs thought that it must have been the head blow that did it to him. I hope he's all right. Anyway I got a little off track. So these gods come back and mess up everything that was built in the last one thousand years. You got the Greek gods fighting the Norse the Persian fighting the Babylonians, blah, blah, blah, blah. Basically mass hysteria. That's why they have to die. Problem is that as soon as they came back there were converts as soon as the world saw them and the few levelheaded people left decided that enough was enough. I mean for god's sake, you've got this warrior princess named Xian Puu killing men all over Eurasia in the name of Diana, cults all over saying that they're the one true way. That's where we come in, the Godkillers. Tonight I'm alone against this cult of Hecate; they use magic so I hope I get out of here alive. -From the personal journals of Ranma Saotome
As Ranma jumped from the rooftop that he was observing he felt a chill, then saw a flash of light. The ceremony was beginning. "Might get lucky and kill Hecate tonight" Ranma thought as he ran down flight after flight of stairs of the second building. This was his first operation without Ryouga to back him up. Down through the hall he ran, as the chants were growing louder. As he came to the door an intense heat slammed into his face. His resolve was firm as he bashed the door down with a swift kick. Heads turned as women who called themselves witches jumped from their prone positions to confront the lone godkiller. "KEEP GOING!" the sacrifice screamed. He wasn't sure how to take this one. As soon as the sacrifice ordered them back they went right back into the ritual. Ranma thought about calling in for back up, but it was way to late for that. With the smell of exhumed corpses hanging like a convicted murderer in the air, he ran toward the altar and cut it in half with his razor sharp murasame blade. As it dropped in half a figure materialized in the center of the circle. She wore hideous armor made of dead flesh and bone. She scowled at him, and then smirked. "So this is a godkiller," she said. It was Hecate herself. Ranma flashed out some of paper banishment wards he kept to give himself some time. He was severely outnumbered. "I'm in a tight spot, hope one of the guys will be around" Ranma thought as he hacked, slashed and fired those who would kill him. It spoke again. Ranma thought it was just guttural muttering. Witches and followers were all around, now brandishing knives because their goddess had shown. He was grabbed from behind and held down. His entire line of vision was filled with murderous acolytes. They pulled the TEC-9 and the blade from his hands. Ranma thought about his mistake of taking this one alone. It was a bad one, really bad. He has a goddess of magic and her followers ready to kill him. One was pulling at his pigtail with all her might, as if trying to get a gruesome trophy of a godkiller. Ranma was ready to say his last words. Suddenly out of the darkness of the hallway the thunder of automatic weapons fire filled all of their worlds. Ranma saw the yellow headband first illuminated by the fire of the familiar AK-47. Ranma shouted at the top of his lungs "Ryouga!!" By then the congregation had scattered, the sacrifice began screaming in ancient Greek, as Ryouga ran to help his best friend. "Wormwood slugs, that always works against that type of goddess," Ryouga said as he helped his partner and best friend up to his feet. While Ranma regained his composure Ryouga surveyed the scene. "That was stupid of you Ranma, you could have been killed" "I know" Ranma replied. Around the room were scattered bodies bleeding their last. Ryouga noticed that the evil goddess that he concentrated his fire on was not among them. "She got away," Ryouga muttered under his breath. Ranma heard then replied, "She'll be back". They then turned their attention to the lone survivor. They duct taped he mouth shut to keep her quiet. Then took her in for deprogramming. At the deprogramming center, they dropped off their living cargo and picked up their check. It was morning in the Nerima district, time for the hunters to clock out for the night, most of the elements that they were after usually came out at night anyway. At a local restaurant Ryouga told Ranma what had happened after the fight against Happosai, and Ranma didn't seem very pleased that his friend had a curse put on him. "So you see," Ryouga said while stuffing his mouth with okonomiaki "this curse that oni put on me made me lose my sense of direction. Now I can't find my way out of a closet. You were VERY lucky Ranma." Ranma sat opposite Ryouga with his head tilted down and his arms crossed, silently acknowledging his friend. "Its been a rough night," Ranma said as he got up to walk back to his apartment "see ya tonight." he said as he walked away.
Chapter Two Encounter with an Old Goat
Ranma sat in a chair at his small apartment in the Shinjuku district of Tokyo. "What the hell is this all about?" He thought. He sipped at his oolong tea as the dark of night slipped away and sleep overcame him. He awoke with a startle. It was Happosai, the demon that had cursed his friend and partner Ryouga just a month before. "My boy, I'm pretty sure that you think that I'm some sort of monster or mythological being. The truth is that I'm not. I'm just a man like you or anyone walking down the street right now." The old man intoned. Ranma slowly edged toward the TEC-9 that was conveniently hidden next to the chair that he had fallen asleep in. "Why should I believe you? You cursed my partner, and on top of that, we had a bounty on you." Ranma said. Happosai leaned back, with all the confidence of a lion eyeing wounded prey. "My boy, I saw this whole thing coming down right from the start. I trained your father, Gemna in the martial arts." The old man said. At this point Ranma had his weapon squarely pointed at the small- framed man. He couldn't think of what to make of him. Ranma had never met his father, or his mother for that matter. They had given him up, as an infant to fight against the tide of chaos that had just begun vacuum the world into it's void. Ranma spoke. "I don't care what you did with my father. Never met the man, and I don't care to meet anyone who's associated with him. As far as I'm concerned the only thing my mom and dad ever did right was drop me off at the Godkiller's doorstep. At least I have a reason to keep on living. I'm going to make the world right again. What are you going to do? Fuck up the world's economy by finding some sort of spell or whatever that turns lead to gold? Your wondering why we have bounties on you types. Isn't it obvious? The world was running just fine without alchemists, gods, witches and whatever the hell you call yourselves. Ranma inched closer to the old martial arts master. "That's why people like me exist. We want the good old days of the twentieth century AD, not BC. Fuck you and all the old gods." "The twentieth century eh? That's what you guys want? That was just one big mess of a century if you ask me. Those Americans dropped the biggest bomb in history on us here in Japan. Not once, but twice. When we followed Bushido codes and asked the conquering general to be our emperor, he rebuffed us and said, no. So to hell I say with the twentieth century, nothing but mistakes from everyone involved if you ask me. I'm glad the kami came back to try to cleanse the world. Too bad it isn't working. The Americans are screwing everything up again." Happosai said, leaning back on Ranma's couch. "You know, for being called Godkillers, you guys have never been able to do just that. I've looked into it. Not one god killed; not even a little tiny fairy or imp. HA! You can't kill a helpless unicorn? Shall I go through the list of major ones that you killed? Let's see, let me think, oh I know! NONE!" "Fuck you old man. I don't need you or anyone outside the organization to tell me our track record. We will take one of them out one day, on that that day the rest of you fuckers will tremble. You know why? I'll tell you why. That'll mean that we all have their fucking number, and the next one could be them." Ranma said with the fury of the great Chicago fire. Ranma shot Happosai seven times in the chest before the old goat could reply. The creed of the Godkillers is literally this: Nobody FUCKS WITH US. Simply stated; Happosai, though a human mistaken for a creature of legend, messed with a fellow brother. Therefore, he had to be dealt with. Ranma had dealt with Happosai. The hand: Aces and Eights.
Happosai twitched, and groaned. It bothered Ranma that the old man hadn't died yet. He soon will. Ranma walked out of his place to find a pay phone. His way of thinking is that you can never be too careful, so he went out to find a random payphone to call for a clean up squad to come and get the mess that he had left sprawled out on his sofa. "Ranma!" Ryouga shouted as he saw his partner roaming around the square looking for something. Daytime in the Shinjuku district of Tokyo is just as packed as the nighttime. During the day business rules the district. At night hot dance club nightlife dominates. Ryouga had been wandering here ever since Ranma had left him at the Ucchan's, the restaurant stand that they had had breakfast at. "This damn curse is fucking with my head," Ryouga complained to himself "I can't even remember where I live." "Ryouga, what the hell are you doing? I don't want to have you lost again for another month." Ranma said approaching Ryouga. "I'm surprised that the curse didn't wear off. I killed that oni that smacked you with it." "You killed it? I thought that if you killed a spell caster, that anything he cast didn't work anymore." The lost boy repeated from the text. "Your right." Ranma began to panic a bit. "I nearly unloaded an half a clip into him just a few minutes ago. Maybe we should wait awhile. They never said if the spell would immediately break." "Follow me!" Ranma barked as they ran back to Ranma's apartment, unprepared. The blood was still fresh on the couch and the slugs that Ranma had pumped into the evil old man were punctured into the cushion of the couch. The old man, however, was nowhere to be found. Ryouga surveyed the scene and started to look out the open window, searching for some place that the old goat could have drug himself. He found nothing. Ranma walked to the closet and opened it, finding nothing. He wondered what happened. The television came on of it's own volition. It startled both of the hunters. Ranma jumped toward the gun that he had left when he'd left the apartment. Rolling onto the floor as he grabbed the weapon, he found the screen as his target. Ryouga pounced into a martial arts kata as he prepared to defend himself. It was the weatherman doing what weathermen have done for time in memorial: the weather. They both wiped their brows and sighed once the tension was gone. Ranma told his partner that it came on like that every morning because of the alarm that he had set. Seeing that a hunter has to watch his back, it's not surprising that as long as Ranma is in his home, the TV automatically turns on once an hour. He sees it as a safety feature. If he's asleep and something or someone is crawling in his place, the TV might just kick on. The idea is that if it works out, he'll have the element of surprise. It's not really that likely, but in the world Ranma lives in, a small chance for a hunter is better than no chance at all. A smoky apparition swirled around in the living room. It spoke. "Boys, have it got something for you!" It was the supposed demon, Happosai. "You think you can kill me? Not very likely, I think. I have the kami on my side! You'll never kill--" He didn't get to finish. Ryouga had plunged his ceremonial family tanto into the back of the old man's neck. Happosai slid off the short blade and slumped off onto the hardwood floor. Happosai bled once again. The hunters, who had just recently became the prey, stood above the body and inspected it. They argued over who was going to call headquarters for the clean up crew and get the bounty on its head.
Chapter Three Title Pending
The knock on the door was flat and resolute. It couldn't be anyone else but the landlord. Ranma knew it from the first of every month, and today just happened to be that day. The corpse was still on the floor, still bleeding and twitching. Blood was still soaking into the carpet and Ryouga looked like he was ready to panic at any moment. "What's going on in there!?" The voice from the door inquired. "Just playing a video game with my new sound system. I'll turn it down. Sorry." Ranma lied to the door. "Ok." The voice said. Ranma listened as closely as he could. He heard the footsteps move slowly away from his door. He couldn't wait till the cleanup team got there. Things could never have gotten worse. Guys on the teams figure that, yeah, it's not a problem to take out some followers, it comes with the job. But now he has a dead guy in his apartment. things like this don't happen very often. As a matter of fact, they don't happen ever. Ryouga yawned as they waited for the clean up crew to show up. He looked around the apartment. There were no posters, pictures, or other adornments on the wall, just the plain white paint that every place has when one moves in. He saw the entertainment center which housed the televison, gaming consoles, and DVD player that Ranma had picked up over the past few months since they had become active. He glanced over to the couch, which was stained with blood from the old man that they had just dispacted. It sat by a window, and he thought that if someone saw what had gone on just fifteen minutes prior, they could be in some deep, deep shit. Ryouga lit a cigarette. It's one of the few luxories left in the world that everyone can enjoy without some religious nut bashing it and saying how it's the wrong thing to do. Like he or anyone in the organization cared what they think anyway. But cultural problems can arise if you do the wrong thing in places all around the world. For instance, try saying that the pharoh is not the ruler of the world in Eygpt, or that Baba Yaga won't get your children in Russia. The Baba Yaga thing is probably true. At any rate, anyone around the world can enjoy a smoke and that little bit of unity is what makes the world go around. "Hey Ramna, remember that girl you were seeing a few months back?" Ryouga asked, looking for the remote. "You mean the older woman?" Ramna replied. "No, the one before that." Ryouga retorted. "Which one do you mean?" Ramna asked, he walked from around the corner rubbing his head with a towel in vain attempt to get some of the blood splatter out. "Do you mean that one chickie I wanted to get serious with? The one with the kid?" "Yeah." Ryouga said patting around the sides of the chair looking for the remote control to the TV. "Oh, her, she dumped me for some loser club kid moron. All the people I've talked to who know him say that they can't stand him for more than fifteen minutes. I really can't see what she sees in him. I hope he falls for a cult." Ranma ghosted an assault rifle in his arms.
"Blam! Brains paintin' the wall!" Ranma said as he dropped his stance. "You really don't mean that? Do you?" Ryouga said, worried about his friend. "We're supposed to be killing the gods, not people. Even if he did join a cult and attack us, it's still not right, in a way." Ranma walked over to the kitchenette. He knelled out of his friend's site and produced a bottle of Knobb Creek whiskey along with two highball glasses. Pouring a quarter of the way through to both he remained silent. The look in his eyes were obvious. It was a malaise that captures even the most lighthearted of souls when it has the chance. Ramna grabbed the first glass and drank it all down. "Yeah, I fucked up again. Story of my life." Ramna was letting the whiskey get to him. "It's all one fuck up after another. Sorry man, but your going down with me to." Ramna said peering down into his glass. Refreshing his drink, he asked Ryouga, "What do you think they'll make of this? We got the guy, and he had supernatural powers. But how the hell are we going to prove that? Good faith? Nobody takes anything on good faith anymore. They're gonna be all over us soon. How does it feel Ryouga? We're three dollar whores. We're fucked." Ryouga walked up to the kitchenette and took the second glass of whiskey, he passed Ramna up and opened up the refridgerator, took out a can of soda and poured it into the high ball glass. He waited for the fizz to subside and took a massive gulp, then held up the glass at eye level and said, "We've got our problems here Ramna, but thank your lucky stars that we're not in the Americas. We get our share of gaijin gods here because of western influence, but over there, it's a battlefield."
So here I am one of the great heroes of this brave new world. Doing what I do, sulking on top of some building in the middle of the night, clutching a silver blade in one hand a TEC-9 in the other. I never asked for this damn job. Just like everything else in life I just fell into it. My name is Ranma Saotome, and I hate my life. A little background the world I live in and me is in order before we go in. the world I live in is just one big mess. Something happened about 20 years ago that I really don't understand, and I really don't want to. Apparently, after about two thousand years of debate the gods came back to earth. They brought back with them all their pettiness, in fighting and cruelty. Gods doing that, go figure. That's where I step in. I'm a hunter, we're also known as the Godkillers. Shortly after the gods came back, I was taken from my mother and father, Gemna and Nodoka to train as a godkiller. I haven't killed one yet, but I have killed one of the higher-ranking oni in Japan, this thing called a Happosai. My last partner Ryouga almost died that night and he still hasn't recovered. He wandered out of his hospital bed one day and no one has seen him since. The docs thought that it must have been the head blow that did it to him. I hope he's all right. Anyway I got a little off track. So these gods come back and mess up everything that was built in the last one thousand years. You got the Greek gods fighting the Norse the Persian fighting the Babylonians, blah, blah, blah, blah. Basically mass hysteria. That's why they have to die. Problem is that as soon as they came back there were converts as soon as the world saw them and the few levelheaded people left decided that enough was enough. I mean for god's sake, you've got this warrior princess named Xian Puu killing men all over Eurasia in the name of Diana, cults all over saying that they're the one true way. That's where we come in, the Godkillers. Tonight I'm alone against this cult of Hecate; they use magic so I hope I get out of here alive. -From the personal journals of Ranma Saotome
As Ranma jumped from the rooftop that he was observing he felt a chill, then saw a flash of light. The ceremony was beginning. "Might get lucky and kill Hecate tonight" Ranma thought as he ran down flight after flight of stairs of the second building. This was his first operation without Ryouga to back him up. Down through the hall he ran, as the chants were growing louder. As he came to the door an intense heat slammed into his face. His resolve was firm as he bashed the door down with a swift kick. Heads turned as women who called themselves witches jumped from their prone positions to confront the lone godkiller. "KEEP GOING!" the sacrifice screamed. He wasn't sure how to take this one. As soon as the sacrifice ordered them back they went right back into the ritual. Ranma thought about calling in for back up, but it was way to late for that. With the smell of exhumed corpses hanging like a convicted murderer in the air, he ran toward the altar and cut it in half with his razor sharp murasame blade. As it dropped in half a figure materialized in the center of the circle. She wore hideous armor made of dead flesh and bone. She scowled at him, and then smirked. "So this is a godkiller," she said. It was Hecate herself. Ranma flashed out some of paper banishment wards he kept to give himself some time. He was severely outnumbered. "I'm in a tight spot, hope one of the guys will be around" Ranma thought as he hacked, slashed and fired those who would kill him. It spoke again. Ranma thought it was just guttural muttering. Witches and followers were all around, now brandishing knives because their goddess had shown. He was grabbed from behind and held down. His entire line of vision was filled with murderous acolytes. They pulled the TEC-9 and the blade from his hands. Ranma thought about his mistake of taking this one alone. It was a bad one, really bad. He has a goddess of magic and her followers ready to kill him. One was pulling at his pigtail with all her might, as if trying to get a gruesome trophy of a godkiller. Ranma was ready to say his last words. Suddenly out of the darkness of the hallway the thunder of automatic weapons fire filled all of their worlds. Ranma saw the yellow headband first illuminated by the fire of the familiar AK-47. Ranma shouted at the top of his lungs "Ryouga!!" By then the congregation had scattered, the sacrifice began screaming in ancient Greek, as Ryouga ran to help his best friend. "Wormwood slugs, that always works against that type of goddess," Ryouga said as he helped his partner and best friend up to his feet. While Ranma regained his composure Ryouga surveyed the scene. "That was stupid of you Ranma, you could have been killed" "I know" Ranma replied. Around the room were scattered bodies bleeding their last. Ryouga noticed that the evil goddess that he concentrated his fire on was not among them. "She got away," Ryouga muttered under his breath. Ranma heard then replied, "She'll be back". They then turned their attention to the lone survivor. They duct taped he mouth shut to keep her quiet. Then took her in for deprogramming. At the deprogramming center, they dropped off their living cargo and picked up their check. It was morning in the Nerima district, time for the hunters to clock out for the night, most of the elements that they were after usually came out at night anyway. At a local restaurant Ryouga told Ranma what had happened after the fight against Happosai, and Ranma didn't seem very pleased that his friend had a curse put on him. "So you see," Ryouga said while stuffing his mouth with okonomiaki "this curse that oni put on me made me lose my sense of direction. Now I can't find my way out of a closet. You were VERY lucky Ranma." Ranma sat opposite Ryouga with his head tilted down and his arms crossed, silently acknowledging his friend. "Its been a rough night," Ranma said as he got up to walk back to his apartment "see ya tonight." he said as he walked away.
Chapter Two Encounter with an Old Goat
Ranma sat in a chair at his small apartment in the Shinjuku district of Tokyo. "What the hell is this all about?" He thought. He sipped at his oolong tea as the dark of night slipped away and sleep overcame him. He awoke with a startle. It was Happosai, the demon that had cursed his friend and partner Ryouga just a month before. "My boy, I'm pretty sure that you think that I'm some sort of monster or mythological being. The truth is that I'm not. I'm just a man like you or anyone walking down the street right now." The old man intoned. Ranma slowly edged toward the TEC-9 that was conveniently hidden next to the chair that he had fallen asleep in. "Why should I believe you? You cursed my partner, and on top of that, we had a bounty on you." Ranma said. Happosai leaned back, with all the confidence of a lion eyeing wounded prey. "My boy, I saw this whole thing coming down right from the start. I trained your father, Gemna in the martial arts." The old man said. At this point Ranma had his weapon squarely pointed at the small- framed man. He couldn't think of what to make of him. Ranma had never met his father, or his mother for that matter. They had given him up, as an infant to fight against the tide of chaos that had just begun vacuum the world into it's void. Ranma spoke. "I don't care what you did with my father. Never met the man, and I don't care to meet anyone who's associated with him. As far as I'm concerned the only thing my mom and dad ever did right was drop me off at the Godkiller's doorstep. At least I have a reason to keep on living. I'm going to make the world right again. What are you going to do? Fuck up the world's economy by finding some sort of spell or whatever that turns lead to gold? Your wondering why we have bounties on you types. Isn't it obvious? The world was running just fine without alchemists, gods, witches and whatever the hell you call yourselves. Ranma inched closer to the old martial arts master. "That's why people like me exist. We want the good old days of the twentieth century AD, not BC. Fuck you and all the old gods." "The twentieth century eh? That's what you guys want? That was just one big mess of a century if you ask me. Those Americans dropped the biggest bomb in history on us here in Japan. Not once, but twice. When we followed Bushido codes and asked the conquering general to be our emperor, he rebuffed us and said, no. So to hell I say with the twentieth century, nothing but mistakes from everyone involved if you ask me. I'm glad the kami came back to try to cleanse the world. Too bad it isn't working. The Americans are screwing everything up again." Happosai said, leaning back on Ranma's couch. "You know, for being called Godkillers, you guys have never been able to do just that. I've looked into it. Not one god killed; not even a little tiny fairy or imp. HA! You can't kill a helpless unicorn? Shall I go through the list of major ones that you killed? Let's see, let me think, oh I know! NONE!" "Fuck you old man. I don't need you or anyone outside the organization to tell me our track record. We will take one of them out one day, on that that day the rest of you fuckers will tremble. You know why? I'll tell you why. That'll mean that we all have their fucking number, and the next one could be them." Ranma said with the fury of the great Chicago fire. Ranma shot Happosai seven times in the chest before the old goat could reply. The creed of the Godkillers is literally this: Nobody FUCKS WITH US. Simply stated; Happosai, though a human mistaken for a creature of legend, messed with a fellow brother. Therefore, he had to be dealt with. Ranma had dealt with Happosai. The hand: Aces and Eights.
Happosai twitched, and groaned. It bothered Ranma that the old man hadn't died yet. He soon will. Ranma walked out of his place to find a pay phone. His way of thinking is that you can never be too careful, so he went out to find a random payphone to call for a clean up squad to come and get the mess that he had left sprawled out on his sofa. "Ranma!" Ryouga shouted as he saw his partner roaming around the square looking for something. Daytime in the Shinjuku district of Tokyo is just as packed as the nighttime. During the day business rules the district. At night hot dance club nightlife dominates. Ryouga had been wandering here ever since Ranma had left him at the Ucchan's, the restaurant stand that they had had breakfast at. "This damn curse is fucking with my head," Ryouga complained to himself "I can't even remember where I live." "Ryouga, what the hell are you doing? I don't want to have you lost again for another month." Ranma said approaching Ryouga. "I'm surprised that the curse didn't wear off. I killed that oni that smacked you with it." "You killed it? I thought that if you killed a spell caster, that anything he cast didn't work anymore." The lost boy repeated from the text. "Your right." Ranma began to panic a bit. "I nearly unloaded an half a clip into him just a few minutes ago. Maybe we should wait awhile. They never said if the spell would immediately break." "Follow me!" Ranma barked as they ran back to Ranma's apartment, unprepared. The blood was still fresh on the couch and the slugs that Ranma had pumped into the evil old man were punctured into the cushion of the couch. The old man, however, was nowhere to be found. Ryouga surveyed the scene and started to look out the open window, searching for some place that the old goat could have drug himself. He found nothing. Ranma walked to the closet and opened it, finding nothing. He wondered what happened. The television came on of it's own volition. It startled both of the hunters. Ranma jumped toward the gun that he had left when he'd left the apartment. Rolling onto the floor as he grabbed the weapon, he found the screen as his target. Ryouga pounced into a martial arts kata as he prepared to defend himself. It was the weatherman doing what weathermen have done for time in memorial: the weather. They both wiped their brows and sighed once the tension was gone. Ranma told his partner that it came on like that every morning because of the alarm that he had set. Seeing that a hunter has to watch his back, it's not surprising that as long as Ranma is in his home, the TV automatically turns on once an hour. He sees it as a safety feature. If he's asleep and something or someone is crawling in his place, the TV might just kick on. The idea is that if it works out, he'll have the element of surprise. It's not really that likely, but in the world Ranma lives in, a small chance for a hunter is better than no chance at all. A smoky apparition swirled around in the living room. It spoke. "Boys, have it got something for you!" It was the supposed demon, Happosai. "You think you can kill me? Not very likely, I think. I have the kami on my side! You'll never kill--" He didn't get to finish. Ryouga had plunged his ceremonial family tanto into the back of the old man's neck. Happosai slid off the short blade and slumped off onto the hardwood floor. Happosai bled once again. The hunters, who had just recently became the prey, stood above the body and inspected it. They argued over who was going to call headquarters for the clean up crew and get the bounty on its head.
Chapter Three Title Pending
The knock on the door was flat and resolute. It couldn't be anyone else but the landlord. Ranma knew it from the first of every month, and today just happened to be that day. The corpse was still on the floor, still bleeding and twitching. Blood was still soaking into the carpet and Ryouga looked like he was ready to panic at any moment. "What's going on in there!?" The voice from the door inquired. "Just playing a video game with my new sound system. I'll turn it down. Sorry." Ranma lied to the door. "Ok." The voice said. Ranma listened as closely as he could. He heard the footsteps move slowly away from his door. He couldn't wait till the cleanup team got there. Things could never have gotten worse. Guys on the teams figure that, yeah, it's not a problem to take out some followers, it comes with the job. But now he has a dead guy in his apartment. things like this don't happen very often. As a matter of fact, they don't happen ever. Ryouga yawned as they waited for the clean up crew to show up. He looked around the apartment. There were no posters, pictures, or other adornments on the wall, just the plain white paint that every place has when one moves in. He saw the entertainment center which housed the televison, gaming consoles, and DVD player that Ranma had picked up over the past few months since they had become active. He glanced over to the couch, which was stained with blood from the old man that they had just dispacted. It sat by a window, and he thought that if someone saw what had gone on just fifteen minutes prior, they could be in some deep, deep shit. Ryouga lit a cigarette. It's one of the few luxories left in the world that everyone can enjoy without some religious nut bashing it and saying how it's the wrong thing to do. Like he or anyone in the organization cared what they think anyway. But cultural problems can arise if you do the wrong thing in places all around the world. For instance, try saying that the pharoh is not the ruler of the world in Eygpt, or that Baba Yaga won't get your children in Russia. The Baba Yaga thing is probably true. At any rate, anyone around the world can enjoy a smoke and that little bit of unity is what makes the world go around. "Hey Ramna, remember that girl you were seeing a few months back?" Ryouga asked, looking for the remote. "You mean the older woman?" Ramna replied. "No, the one before that." Ryouga retorted. "Which one do you mean?" Ramna asked, he walked from around the corner rubbing his head with a towel in vain attempt to get some of the blood splatter out. "Do you mean that one chickie I wanted to get serious with? The one with the kid?" "Yeah." Ryouga said patting around the sides of the chair looking for the remote control to the TV. "Oh, her, she dumped me for some loser club kid moron. All the people I've talked to who know him say that they can't stand him for more than fifteen minutes. I really can't see what she sees in him. I hope he falls for a cult." Ranma ghosted an assault rifle in his arms.
"Blam! Brains paintin' the wall!" Ranma said as he dropped his stance. "You really don't mean that? Do you?" Ryouga said, worried about his friend. "We're supposed to be killing the gods, not people. Even if he did join a cult and attack us, it's still not right, in a way." Ranma walked over to the kitchenette. He knelled out of his friend's site and produced a bottle of Knobb Creek whiskey along with two highball glasses. Pouring a quarter of the way through to both he remained silent. The look in his eyes were obvious. It was a malaise that captures even the most lighthearted of souls when it has the chance. Ramna grabbed the first glass and drank it all down. "Yeah, I fucked up again. Story of my life." Ramna was letting the whiskey get to him. "It's all one fuck up after another. Sorry man, but your going down with me to." Ramna said peering down into his glass. Refreshing his drink, he asked Ryouga, "What do you think they'll make of this? We got the guy, and he had supernatural powers. But how the hell are we going to prove that? Good faith? Nobody takes anything on good faith anymore. They're gonna be all over us soon. How does it feel Ryouga? We're three dollar whores. We're fucked." Ryouga walked up to the kitchenette and took the second glass of whiskey, he passed Ramna up and opened up the refridgerator, took out a can of soda and poured it into the high ball glass. He waited for the fizz to subside and took a massive gulp, then held up the glass at eye level and said, "We've got our problems here Ramna, but thank your lucky stars that we're not in the Americas. We get our share of gaijin gods here because of western influence, but over there, it's a battlefield."