A/N: I do not own Ranma 1/2 or Gold Diggers. This is merely for my own amusement, and I am not making a profit from this.

"This is the last offense, boy." A diminutive form, not unlike that of a troll, was digging through an odd stack of scrolls in a small corner of an attic. Whatever this place was it held little, and had not been in heavy use. The only source of light came from a candle not far off from the side of the busy troll. Silken webs shimmered in the fickle light. A cold draft blew through the wooded supports, a mere whisper among the creaks and groans of the sleeping structure, accompanied by the sound of discarded scrolls as they landed upon the floor.

"Where is the blasted thing?" The troll mumbled to himself, checking every scroll he possessed for the solution to all his problems. It was rather fortunate, at least for him, that all of his problems rested upon one very unfortunate boy. He had been denied his fun, his freedom, and his livelihood, and for what?

For honor.

It was the means to his ends. It was his justification for denying an old man the very thing he lived for, but no more. He would just have to end that. Strip the boy of his honor, and he would have nothing left. He would have no claim, and his will ultimately lost to his desires.

He had a plan; it was a devious plan. One filled with all of his malice and ill intent designed to destroy. There would be no more mercy, only a swift end. He would gain no satisfaction in dragging this out, for then everything would be lost. It was only logical to act this way. After all the simplest plans rarely met as many failures as the most well thought out ones had.

"Hotcha!" The dry raspy voice of the small old man cried out in joy as he found purchase in the impressive stack of scrolls. The scroll he held in his small withered hands was ordinary, to say the least, compared to the other scrolls, which were sometimes color marked in reds, blues, or black.

Yet this scroll held something special. It was not pure knowledge, a special technique, or a map. No, this held something far more dangerous, and the knowledge was not the cause. Knowledge held power of its own, but the mysteries of that were held in the world of magic are far more dangerous than the simple ability to understand.

Just as he was about to pick himself up and leave, another scroll had made itself known by rolling into his leather-clad foot. Curiously he picked it up and read. What he found made vengeance much, much sweeter.

"Revenge is mine, boy."

The residents of Nerima were witness to many strange occurrences in their humble little lives. Most, if not all, was caused by a single person. This person, upon first entering the ward, was a spectacle. He would perform spectacular feats with little to no effort, and with little provocation if one discounted the others out for his head. He was known for his ability to jump along the rooftops, beat every single odd stacked against him, and beat the senses out of the resident deranged kendoist. He was—

"Ranma no baka!" Wham

Ranma Saotome.

Ranma was, coincidently, also known for every beautiful, but abusive, fiancé in the area that tried to win him over despite his misgivings. Any other man would have embraced the situation with open arms, but not Ranma. No. Ranma couldn't dishonor himself even though his father trampled over it like dirt. Ranma couldn't dishonor those chasing after him by choosing only one, because no matter the outcome one would be hurt, and if there was one thing Ranma Saotome did not do it was willfully bring pain to someone. Unless it was his pops. Or Ryoga. Definitely Kuno. Okay, so maybe he wasn't so adverse to delivering bodily harm to his rivals, but really. Women were a different matter entirely. No matter how abusive they were, no matter how many times they played the same card to win his hand, and no matter how many times they ignored his wants and his needs, he would always see it through to never bring them harm.

With a resigned sigh Ranma crawled out of the hole Akane had put him into and looked over to her. "What did I do this time?"

"Don't give me that tone you pervert!" Akane snapped, staring hatefully at him. "I know you were playing around with your hussies last night, and every night that you left the house." She sneered. "Where else would you go?" She didn't expect an answer, and Ranma knew that any answer would be unfavorable to both of them.

Ranma had disappeared from the house during the evenings, but it was just to get away from it all. After the failed wedding fiasco he had noticed changes in all of the girls, and it did not sit well with him. Things were bad before, but now they were worse. There was no time for him, as he would be bombarded by the insanity that was his life. Rivals crawled out of the woodwork, the fiancés had become more clingy, and the parents had been more pushy despite their numerous failures. If they took a step back and evaluated the situation they may have seen that their actions only added more stress.

Fat chance of that. Everything was boiling up to a point, of that Ranma was sure. Nerima looked more and more like a barrel keg to him everyday, and he wondered when everything would explode in his face, and if he was going to make it out alive.

It was to everyone's great surprise that Ranma stood and then walked away without trying to deny Akane's accusations. Everyone knew Ranma would, or rather could not, bring himself to do anything Akane accused him of. Of course there were a few doubters, but they were strictly limited to those of super human abilities that wanted to beat or kill Ranma, with the exception of one Tatewaki Kuno; he was just insane.

Akane just smirked smugly to herself, completely believing Ranma to be guilty, and that his silence was solid proof to that guilt.

It was amazing, Ranma thought, how she could be this way after the events of Mount Phoenix and his battle with the demigod Saffron. He had risked life and limb for her, came close to stating his love for her, and she had turned into a jealous husk of a woman.

"Oh, looks like yer a bit down there, sonny boy!" Ranma gazed up into the eyes of the old troll and Grandmaster of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts, Happosai. The resident lecher smiled at his heir's dissatisfaction, cheerfully waiting the proper moment.

"What do ya want Happosai?" Ranma didn't want to deal with this. He had luckily been rid of the old pervert for most of the week, having to foil only two panty raids and deliver him to the angry and victimized mob that chased him. Happosai's absence was actually suspicious, as his normal routine of seeking vengeance on the pigtailed martial artist had not come to pass.

"As if you don't know m'boy!" Happosai crowed. "Why, I just want to show my favorite heir the error of his ways."

Ranma narrowed his eyes preparing for the worst. "I ain't no heir of yours ya old coot. Y'know I can beat ya from here to Okinawa."

Happosai only took out his pipe and nonchalantly rested it against his lips, a contemplative expression on his rather wrinkled face. "Ha! You have yet to learn the true secrets of the art!" And with that Happosai pounced from his perch.

Ranma was prepared for this, or so he thought. The lecher seemingly faded from right in front of him just when Ranma launched a kick in his direction. Ranma was alerted to Happosai's position when he felt a cascade of cold water rush down his back, triggering his transformation. The next sensation the now busty redhead felt were the diminutive hands of the lecher roaming along her backside.

"Hatcha! Come to poppa!" Happosai was pushing every button he knew to send the pigtailed youth into righteous indignation, and so far he was succeeding marvelously.

"You lech!" Ranma twisted and snapped a kick at Happosai. The blow was solid and sent the aged master a short distance away looking none the worse for wear.

"Now that's more like it!" Happosai danced out of every attack Ranma made with more grace than most would give him credit for. "C'mon, can't you move any faster?"

Ranma growled as her hits remained ineffective, and the shriveled pervert remained elusive from her grasp. The old man danced further backwards toward a small alley.

This was what Happosai had been waiting for; the perfect moment, the perfect spot to spring his trap; a nondescript alley far from interfering individuals. Yes, here was where Ranma Saotome would be no more.

Happosai continued to lead Ranma, who was oblivious to the schemes of the aged master, deeper into the alley. Just a little further, and…now!

Once Ranma touched down a noiseless flash filled the alley, disorienting him as he was encompassed by a white glow. He had tried to jump out of the way of whatever it was, but his feet felt as if they were glued to the ground, and his body felt incredibly sluggish.

Then, suddenly, he felt his body change. There was no other way to describe the feeling. He felt his perspective shift downwards, a notable fact considering he was female at the moment. His fingers elongated slightly, but ultimately became sharper. The clothes she wore suddenly felt restraining and, as she looked down, she noticed that her body was now adorned with deep red, almost black, fur.

And then the world exploded into colors, smells, and feeling as her senses went into overdrive. She could smell the sake and garbage littering the street. She could see the cracks in the wall across the street. Under her feet, which were now shoeless because her feet grew in size, she could feel every stray pebble that littered the street. And she could hear the cackle of Happosai who stood there with a smug grin.

"Foolish boy. You've no idea what you are." He took particular amusement in the pigtailed youth's shocked features. "That snare turns you into your worst fear. Do you remember what you fear most?" His tone was mocking in the greatest degree.

Ranma knew, but she didn't want to believe it. She couldn't; she still had her limbs in working condition, she was still standing. No, she couldn't be…

That was when he felt something soft brush against her thigh. It was soft, but it twitched as if it were extremely agitated. Ranma made a desperate grab for it, and she couldn't believe his eyes.

"A…tail." She barely recognized that she had the ability to talk coherently, and instead focused upon the solid proof that she was what she had feared.

"And such a cute pair of ears you have too!" But Ranma wasn't listening to him anymore. She had forgotten everything outside of the fact that she was now a completely authentic cat-girl. She barely realized that she was still changing.

Something in her snapped at the realization, and her vision immediately turned red. She growled a truly feral growl, baring her elongated canines to the world.

Happosai watched the rage build up in his former heir, and triggered the last part of the scroll. A circle of white light sprung up from the ground around Ranma, and the white light slowly encased her in a half sphere. When it finally closed, engulfing Ranma completely, it exploded magnificently, leaving no trace of the former martial arts prodigy.

Happosai took a moment to watch his handiwork, and with a snort turned away. "Ha! Good riddance!"

The world of Jade was filled with many exotic locations. One of which, Seers Hamlet, was rather popular and well known amongst its people for its peacefulness, which was seen through the peaceful greens and generous architecture. Today, however, was not peaceful. The reason being-

Krack-Boom!

-Massive explosions, which were caused by the one, or rather the two, and only Brianna Diggers. Why were there two Brianna Diggers? Well, the simplest answer would be that Brianna's body split into two bodies through the use of Gaja's Spirit Divide, which split Brianna's curse from her original body. The curse, being malevolent in nature due to the belief that she was her older sister's shadow, became highly violent in hopes to rid the world of the original Brianna and her two older sisters Gina and Brittany in order to justify her own existence. In essence she was her own person, and therefore named herself Grave Diggers. Appropriate given the circumstances.

The well thought out and detailed answer? Well, the science of magic is a rather difficult subject to breach in the midst of extreme chaos and destruction. Besides, that's for the scientists to figure out.

Other than the apparent personality difference between Grave and Brianna, there was one glaring detail that simply could not be overlooked. Brianna did more than dabble in the sciences; she embraced it as Brittany would embrace a tuna buffet. Grave, however, showed an exceptional ability in the magical arts. Her hovering around throwing spell after spell at Brianna's L.B.D—Laz-e Boy o' Doom—was a testament to that fact. The Laz-e Boy of Doom was a large mechanical reclining chair that could fly, fire many implements of mass destruction—this was a testament to its creator's, Brianna's, extreme joy of all things that go boom—and, of course, play movies while causing massive amounts of destruction. The wondrous city of Jade was witness to several cluster bomb blasts and the flying, taunting, form of Grave Diggers as it fell apart upon itself.

"Nya nya! Can't catch me!" Grave taunted as she dodged Brianna's return fire, watching as it sailed into an adjacent building and destroying it.

"Hold still!" Brianna was becoming increasingly frustrated with her lack of success in pegging her evil double. She completely ignored the fact that she was destroying a decent amount of property.

"Want me to make an easier target for ya?" Grave was all but laughing maniacally in her ability to anger her other half, who in her emotionally hazed mind lost the ability to make completely rational decisions and fire accurately.

"Why you…!" Brianna aimed behind her target, but found that her target wasn't there anymore.

"Nice shootin' Tex." Grave said while sitting next to Brianna in her L.B.D. She had teleported in and looked immensely satisfied, having surprised her double and all.

Brianna wasn't sitting idly by, however, despite her surprise, and whipped out her quasi-magnum blasters, which conveniently doubled as her control sticks. "Ha! Didn't expect me to have these, didja?"

"Yikes!" Grave dodged frantically as Brianna let lose a volley of bullets, each shot missing her target by a slim margin. "Alright! That's it!" She prepared to cast another spell as she looked upon her victim. "Playtime's…over?" She faltered when she realized the "bullets" Brianna had fired were circling her. "What the hell is this?"

"We not bullets!" The high-pitched, almost screeching, noise came from the bullets Brianna had fired. "We Peebees!"

Peebees were a mechanical invention of Brianna's. They were small robots that looked very much like bombs, but with expression filled faces on them, and they were only about the size of marbles. Right now they gazed upon Graves shaken form with determination as they zeroed in. However not all were on target, and those ventured to destroy buildings, birds, and generally anything that moved. It was truly a frightening sight to see the creator of these intelligent bullets smile that feral smile of satisfaction.

Grave stood, or rather floated, amidst the chaos, smiling a superior smile at Brianna. "Oh you horrible villain! Have you no heart?" She threw her arms open. "Just look at all this destruction you brought on this peaceful little town."

The chase was on, and neither noticed the flash that was soon replaced by a blood red aura in the forest they were heading towards, mistaking it for another random explosion instead.

Grave Diggers floated gently to the ground, and, as she touched down, leaned against a tree to catch her breath. She had lost Brianna in the dense tree line just outside of the town.

"Soon, Brianna," she said quietly to herself, smiling in grim anticipation. "Soon, I will justify my own existence, and be rid of their shadow."

She would have laughed, but something caused every alarm, every instinct, to blare in dread and fear. There was a little voice, as most experienced when fighting the baser instincts, that told her not to turn around, to run as fast as she could, but she couldn't. Something held her in place, not unlike that of a spell. It washed over her from her back, sending shivers down her spine, and causing tremors to course throughout her body. And then she saw, as she snuck a glance over her shoulder. She saw it.

It was a large black cat, which resembled a panther in build, but its large canines made it look more primitive. If Grave was of logical mind she would have mistaken it for a smilodon, If that were all there was to the beast then she would have barely given it a second thought, but the blood red aura it was projecting made it much more than the average cat. Its blue eyes, which were not extremely common with the feline species, glowed malevolently, casting the appearance of a very pissed off cat.

Grave gulped, making no sudden movements, and hesitantly took a slow step back. The beast took a solid step forward, and then another, and another. With each step Grave also stepped back, each more quick and frantic then the last. She was shaken, and rightfully so. She was terrified, and barely held back her first instinct to flee. But the beast was intent on her, and did not falter.

Not being able to take it anymore, Grave turned and fled deeper into the woods in hope to escape her angry pursuer.

Ranma's mind was a whirl of strange thoughts and impulses, all of which were stranger than usual. When she had left the vortex and found herself surrounded by forest she had almost reined in her temper, but something interfered. She had felt something malicious, and the hairs on her back rose in anticipation as her mind clouded. The feeling reminded Ranma of him.

She had felt powerful in that moment. It was a surge, a torrent, a maelstrom, and she could not hold it back. She was no longer Ranma. For a moment she had lost her sense of self, and became something; she was power.

There it was, just ahead. That feeling of maliciousness wasn't there, however, but in its stead was the pungent taste of fear. She craved it, now more than ever. She relished in the transfer of power, of her acknowledgement of his power.

She took a fearful step backwards, and she matched it with two of his own. She backed away faster, and she easily matched her pace. Then she fled, and the hunt was on.

It was to Sheila's great surprise that, within the greats woods where Grave had disappeared into, she smelt such a large amount of fear. Oh, she had known fear, it was next to impossible to not know fear in her line of work, but what was surprising was the amount of fear she had sensed. She did not just feel it as most would; she did not just feel cold, alone, and small. No. What she felt was suffocation. The fear permeated the air with its retched stench, it wrapped around her, it invaded her, and in the end it left her reeling.

Her frantic musings, however, never really had the chance to blossom into a full blown panic attack, for the person, Grave Digger, they were searching for had just flown (There was no other way to describe it, and it was also quite an amazing feat, as she had forgone actual flight in her terror) through the tree line at a fairly decent, but obviously frenzied, clip. Right on her heels, Sheila also noticed, was a great big beast, which, in her not too focused mind, looked much like a beast on the hunt, which it was. It was also due to her frantic mind that the only people in the vicinity, for Brianna and the rest of the Edge Guard were either indisposed or searching elsewhere, were Grave and herself. She felt it was justified to utter an entirely un-childlike remark (Sheila, for those who do not understand her character, is rather small in her hybrid leopard form, and most accurately is seen as a teenager. Her remarks, as befitting of her character as they are, were statements of Kapowie, or other such similar exclamations, that were either followed or performed synchronously with a fist or knee landing upon the body at rather unsafe speeds in rather uncomfortable and vulnerable areas) as the picture finally told her that she was screwed.

"Oh shit."

The beast that was Ranma thoroughly enjoyed himself. It had never been able to indulge in the conscious hunt of prey, and this one was leading a rather merry chase. She could have captured her already, it was not beyond Her abilities, as much as they were untested, to simply pick up speed and bite into the soft flesh behind her knee and have her at his mercy, but where was the fun in that? The whole point was the hunt, the chase; leading the prey into a corner and have them feel their final moments of hopelessness. That was what she desired.

Yet it was not to be, as her considerable form was blindsided, so focused was she on her prey, by another. It gripped at her with strong jaws, and they rolled and rolled until, finally, she could take no more and pushed off. The leap took her no more than a meter apart, but now she was witness to what had distracted her so. It was a large cat, a leopard.

All she really noticed in that moment was that her prey had managed to slip away. She could still smell her, and therefore track her, but this one was in the way. She (she could smell her, too, and as animals tend to pick traits off scent as most do with sight, he had determined her gender) was trying to stop her hunt, maybe to take the prey for herself, or maybe for some entirely different reason. She didn't know or care.

To her there was only one thing she had to do. She would have to remove the obstacle.

Sheila was immediately put on the defensive as the black beast pounced with amazing speed. She angled herself lower to the ground, and, just as it was exiting the apex of its jump, she lunged and landed a full body blow to its chest. It should have knocked the beast backwards, if only a little bit, so she was understandably surprised that it rolled over her figure, while still in mid-air, and landed just behind her. She was vulnerable now, and it took that advantage.

The beast reared back a massive paw and took a swipe at her unguarded flank. It managed to catch her, but its claws barely broke the skin, and sent her tumbling off to the side. It lunged again, and she rolled just out of its reach, and then she had it. She went straight for the neck, and latched on with her powerful jaw. It, as well, bit into her, assuring a temporary stalemate despite his current lack of advantage. She had it right where she wanted, and if it had not clamped down upon her then she would have had the leverage to snap his neck.

As it was the only either could do was bite harder, and push each other around, which they did. Sheila did not have the necessary muscle mass to move his large form, nor did her wounds, which had begun healing at an incredible rate, allow her, but, if anything, she could cut off oxygen, or hopefully break the skin. It was giving no quarter, and now would be the decisive moment.

So she bit with all her might, but its hide was like steel. She did not falter, even as hope grew somewhat dim. It was during one of the larger cat's more powerful pushes that she found purchase, a weakness, if a small one.

It wasn't really a weakness per se, but more or less a consequence of circumstance. The beast lunged, and Sheila bit hard; neither of the two alone would have been of much consequence to the struggle, but together caused an outcome that could not have really been expected, given Sheila's knowledge of the situation. Sheila's fangs had raked along the beast's neck during the lunge in such a way that it managed to break the skin, and almost immediately Sheila noticed a difference.

The struggle grew weaker, as if the beast lost half of its strength in a single instance, and it sagged downward to the ground. The bloodlust aura that had filled the area had dwindled to nothing, and the glow in the beast's eyes, Sheila had noticed when she backed off, had died off, but the blue irises remained, and looked tired, afraid, and a small amount of…sadness?

Whatever it was, it was lost when the beast lost consciousness and fell to the ground in a heap.

Sheila watched it slumber as she felt a twinge at her consciousness. She had never felt anything like it before, but it remained for as long as she looked upon the slumbering cat. Her attention was called away, however, by the united cry of a relieved Brianna Diggers, and therefore did not notice the change that the larger cat was undergoing.

If she had, well… Sheila would have probably fainted from shock.