God Or Devil: The Mightiest Man Emerges

"199X…"

The image of an atomic explosion, followed by the deafening roar of a hypersonic boom….

The mushroom cloud that has been forever acquainted with the phenomenon is, once again, associated with the nuclear fallout…

"The Earth was devastated by a nuclear war…"

In once beautiful cities, filled to the brim with life of all kind, lay the twisted remains of steel support beams. Melted statues made of stone, copper and bronze gave idea to the extreme temperatures associated with being within the vicinity of a nuclear explosion.

The soil, once fertile ground and moist with rainwater was now doing its best impression of deserts and sand. Even the water, once used for such frivolous things as taking daily baths was tainted and radioactive to the degree that pools may have a hundred boiling men floating about and more to come….

For some, the world of today was a science fiction concept; but for those still alive…

Ranma Saotome: Musabetsu No Ken. (Unlimited Fists)

Slowly, Ranma crawled back to his senses. In doing so, he regretted the action, as his head was blaring with pain. A dull, thrumming baritone resonated within his skull giving him a sense of vertigo to compound his disorientation.

"Ugh…" Ranma noised. He gently placed a hand to his forehead, wondering just what the tomboy hit him with this time. Kami knows she must have used every object the Tendo Compound possessed! Slowly, he allowed his eyes to open and searched around himself.

'Let's see,' Ranma thought. In the back of his mind something was telling him that something was off, way off. For starters, he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. "Maybe I should turn on a light?"

That was a great plan, only problem was, his arms were both broken, as he found out when he tried to raise up…

Ranma awoke with a cold sweat. He hated the dream, that memory of a lifetime ago. He was the only one in Tokyo to survive the preemptive attack; he could include Ryoga, but technically the lost boy had been in Antarctica at the time, asking penguins for directions.

Ranma quickly got out of his bed - a prison mattress with stitched-together-clothes for bedsheets – and stretched his arms high, forcing his body to work the kinks out. He quickly went through a hundred kata and several of his advanced techniques before leaving his abode.

The past ten years had not been kind to anyone, but Ranma remained, looking like the teen of his youth. While he had retained the Jusenkyo curse, it hadn't been all that much a bother to him.

As he opened the door and entered the hall of the former concentration camp, he was forced to dodge a metal arrow, which he threw back at its sender, puncturing a dehydrated man's chest. "Nice try boy, but you're gonna have to do better than that if you expect to kill me," Ranma taunted the slowly dying man.

With a glint of insanity in his eyes, Ranma stalked over, to the dying man and began kicking at the visible stem of the iron arrow. As the man screamed out in agony, Ranma's face lit up with a smile. "What's that?" he called down while grinding a boot into the open wound.

The man gasped a final time and fell silent, his body going limp.

Ranma's superior smirk faded. "Dam kids, can't even take a few hits these days…" he grumbled and knelt beside the man. Within a breath, Ranma's aura came to bear and he laid a calloused hand on the man's chest.

After a few moments, the man who was so brutally killed came back to life and scurried down the hall, watching Ranma over his shoulder. "I'll kill you yet, demon!" the man swore.

Times had changed. People couldn't just be nice to one another anymore, unless they were in the same village or trade-neighbors. Unfortunately for Ranma, who had forcefully taken control of this city, he was placed in the same category as other people known as leaders and devils.

People like the man he currently had trapped within one of his cells. The man he was currently on his way to see.

The vast hallway leading to the prisoners' ward was badly lit and the swaying of the overhead lamps weren't that helpful either. The walls were made of steel-reinforced stone and the floor was a bullet marble. Everything in this wing had remained untouched by the nuclear blast, a credit to its creators.

When Ranma had first come across this place it was infested with minor hoodlums, using it as a hub and trading station. He had made short work of the gangs' leaders and put the men under his control. Through Ranma's guidance and memories of the past, they had been able to get the power running again and even dug up a wellspring hidden beneath the complex.

The shouts of hatred rang from the two-hundred-some-odd prisoners, who were irate at being left within. Ranma needed only to charge a ball of Ki to gain their silence and fear. "Now that I have your attention," Ranma barked. A few of the prisoners wet themselves as the scent led one to believe.

Ranma directed a reproachful look at a man who had earned his eternal hatred, but also his respect. "Zeeb," Ranma called.

A man-mountain approached the front of his cell. "It's "Zeed", punk! What the hell do you want?" Zeed thundered, twisting his words with vile and disgust. When he looked into Ranma's cold, hard eyes, he spat in Ranma's face. "Don'tchu look at me, boy!"

"Zeeb," Ranma smiled cruelly sending shivers down the backs of those inmates who had been here long enough to know would happen. "You're scheduled for Coliseum Duty tonight," Ranma informed the unfortunate fiend.

The sound of several gasps a few sobs were enough to rattle Zeed's cage. "W-What's Coliseum Duty?" Zeed asked, unsure if he would like his answer. Around the room the inmates began hanging from the cage doors and rattling them violently, while others howled like the damned. "SHUT UP!" Zeed sneered, swinging his arm ominously, which only caused more inmates to join in.

Zeed watched with growing dread as Ranma began the long trek to the hallway and disappeared from sight, whistling a funeral tune.

The Sun beat down on the figure brightly. The figure came into focus as he walked on. His body was mostly covered under a brown pelt, and when the wind would blow one could make out the Navy blue pants he wore.

At an instance glance, one could look and see that he was severely dehydrated and malnourished. But these days only a select few weren't and wouldn't normally be seen walking the desert-lands.

The man looked down at the cracked, red earth, and fell to his knees, too weak to stand. With the edges of his vision fading to black, he began to dig in the soil, whispering one word…

"Water…"

As he lay prostrate on the ground, the skull of a cow was thrown away and a hand raced through the earth at him, trying to grasp his throat.

The hand changed into the image of a man with wild flowing blonde hair and a light blue bodysuit with shoulder and knee pads and long lace-up boots.

The dark-haired man opened his eyes quickly and rose up. He looked into the calm sky and saw the woman that he most loved, a redhead with a gentle smile. "Yuria?" Suddenly his countenance changed and he set his jaw, forcing his dying body to move.

"Yuria…" he promised with that one name.

In another location, positioned so that they would never be able to see the drifter, a quartet was tearing through the desert sand, mindful of the bandits that frequented the area. On the dunebuggy they were in, were two five-gallon gas containers of pure water, several trunks of clothing and a sled attached to the back had a live cow strapped on.

They knew they were asking for trouble…

Up on a cliff-face, a group of forty raiders were mounted on their bikes, gunning their engines, licking their bladed axes and spiked clubs and giggling with bloodlust delight. It wouldn't be long before their pack leader allowed them to go.

Ranma moved his set of binoculars away from his eyes and let them fall to his chest. A cruel smirk was plastered on his face. "The girl is mine!" Ranma crowed and revved his bike. "LET'S GO!" Ranma ordered, his bike already sailing over the cliff-face.

Behind Ranma, shouts of enjoyment and bloodlust rang through the chasm and spread through the desert land…

."RANMA!" shouted one of the three males, a relatively young guy, with muscles associated with a farmer or city defender. "Ranma's coming!"

The group went pale, but the young woman most especially. Ranma had a rumor about him and what he liked to do with women. There was that rumor and the fact that he had repeatedly made plays at her when she was within her village. "You have to make this thing go faster! HUSBAND!" she urged the driver.

"This is as fast as it'll go!" he hollered over the hum of the engine.

Already the raiders were within eye-seeing distance and still gaining on them. The blood-curdling cries of bloodlust reached their ears, causing the group's hearts to quicken in pace. Would this be the end? Would they die out here in the desert, mowed down like rabid dogs?!

A hail of iron arrows sailed through the air and the driver, the young woman's husband was struck dead, falling from the truck. Quickly she scooted over to take his place. As she was taking the wheel, she caught a glimpse of Ranma riding beside her, arms crossed over his chest as his future-bike – a bike that was electric-powered, had computerized brakes and could outpace any other land vehicle to date.

(AN: If you've seen the movie Akira, I'm talking about Kaneda's bike.)

The steady whistled of magnetic, frictionless, axles pierced the air. "Hey Ruby! Need a lift?" he taunted, grinning lecherously at the woman who looked identical to his aged-female form.

The woman, whose name is not Ruby, grabbed a handcrafted crossbow and fired an arrow at Ranma's forehead, expecting to hit pay dirt. She was sorely surprised when Ranma plucked it from the air and threw it through the front tire, jack-knifing the vehicle.

While in the air, the woman watched her life flash past her eyes and waited for the ground to meet her, only to be caught in Ranma's impossibly strong arms.

The sounds of slaughter grew dimmer, fading into the distance, as Ranma led he and the only thing he found worthy of calling a prize, away.

The Sand Drifter had wandered into the remains of a town, lit by the evening sun, making it appear like a ghost of the past, reliving a time when the building sections were set ablaze.

A handful of men from the earlier raid were playing and telling each other jokes, when the fun was cut short. This part of the town didn't usually get much in the way of visitors, but they would be sure to be extra… nice

As the man walked forward, his perceptions were messed up and could only focus enough to get his body to keep moving forward. With sudden alarm, the muscular drifter was swept off his feet and being dragged by a jeep.

After a few hundred feet, the man charged his battle aura, arced tendrils of electricity and intensity rolled up the length of his body, like water flowing backwards…

The group of raiders - from earlier - were reveling in their victory, and eating of the cow they 'acquired'. Several bonfires burned and gave the area a festive scent, but it was a party for invited guests only.

From the distance a lone biker came tearing up the path to abandoned city, looking like he had seen a monster. "Ranma! There's trouble… With the patrol officers!"

Ranma's head popped out of a tent, followed seconds later by his boxer-clad body. "What is it this time?" he asked with exasperation. If he had to heal another vital gash because of their tomfoolery, he was gonna let the bastards suffer horribly before they died this time.

Ranma arrived to a scene of utter carnage and devastation. Smoke rose in tufts of black columns and the air reeked of burned fossil fuels.

There was no taint of Ryoga's anger or depression and there wasn't the overwhelming feel from Herb cutting loose. So, "Who did this?" Ranma questioned.

"Hey Ranma!" called a burly giant, as he knelt low to check for signs of life. "There's something weird about these bodies… I've never seen wounds like these."

Another man, this one with a blue Mohawk, remarked with his opinion. "It's almost like they were ripped apart from the inside…"

"Ranma," called the guy who had first spoken, "this guy's still breathing!"

"What was that?" Ranma questioned. He had heard rumors of this fighting style being used before, but had never witnessed it by his own eyes. Ranma and several others hurried to side of the man regaining awareness.

The man grabbed onto Ranma's arm, "Hokuto… NO!! Kennn….." As he finished speaking, his face began to swell at an alarming rate, until it exploded, sending bits of skull and blood everywhere…

Still the howls, metal-shaking and skin-slapping persisted. Ranma was particularly impressed; he had been gone for over half the morning.

By this time, Zeed was already a broken man. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his heels, with eyes like pinpricks and tears running down his cheeks while tried valiantly to hold his hands over his ears and block out the sound.

Ranma stared down at the pathetic husk of a man. Truth be told, he had hoped to break his spirit on his own. "Hey there Zeeb, I've got a little job for you…"

A young red-haired girl walked joyfully through the dirt road of the barely striving village, carrying an old banged up pail. The smile on he girl's face warmed the fearful, cold hearts of the villagers and all would do their best to keep the girl happy.

The young girl trotted up to an old man, sitting on the heated soil and guarding the entrance gate. She opened her mouth as if to giggle, but no sound came out. The man released a withering breath; he always hated this time of day. "I'm sorry Lynn, but I don't have any water to spare," he told her, but the only thing that was keeping him from giving the girl water was his wife who outsized him in height and in strength.

The girl's eyes shimmered with unshed tears and she lowered her gaze. Sometimes it just wasn't fair! Sure she didn't do as much work as the others, but what she did do, she did with her whole heart! For that very reason, she was not given enough water to sustain herself and the little puppy she had found and was raising.

When the girl moved to leave, the older man's will began to crack. "Hold on Lynn, I might be able to spare just a little…" the man informed as he pulled out a flask.

A short distance away a commotion began. "I just caught him stealing an apple!"

"C'mon guys," the boy pleaded looking up into the angry eyes. "It was just an apple! It's not like it's goin' ta hurt anyone..."

"What? That's the third time this week!"

"I say we punish the little thief!"

"Punish me?!" the boy sounded shocked at the idea and was forced to swallow around the lump forming in his throat.

"Yeah, good idea!"

"We're gonna chop off your hands brat, then you should learn your lesson about stealing!"

"Chop off…" the boy swallowed hard and looked down at his pride and joys, "my hands…?" Suddenly an idea struck him and he clutched onto it like a life preserver. "I've got it! How about I perform for ya? That way we can call things even?' Without waiting for a response, the boy began playing his beat-up, old harmonica.

The tune he played was one he had made up awhile back to cheer himself and those around him up; and from the less menacing visages, it appeared to be working. As he played he began to dance, a few leg-twists here and a kick there, and he went for the grand finale – a perfect backflip.

Just after landing, the boy fell to the ground on his rump, whining about being too hungry. That was al they could stand; the group of men began laughing heartily. It was during this time, that a drifter entered the village gate and came strolling right by the group of laughing men, which caught their attention.

The transient dragged his decaying body – step-by-step - to a fresh-spring well, and began hoisting the bucket up with the crank arm.

"We got us a water thief!" Shouted one of the males. The group gathered their wits and slapped the bucket from the wanderer's hands, spilling the water back into the well. As a unified front, they beat the man and dragged him away.

"Now's my chance to escape," the boy thought with glee and tried tiptoeing away.

However, a hand that landed on the boy's shoulder was telling him otherwise. "Where do you think you're going brat?"

Ranma revved the engine to his electric bike, sending a high-pitched whistle into the air. "Che," he noised with an annoyed expression on his face. "Something's wrong, I can feel it…" Ranma related aloud.

From her place, lounging on a sofa and wearing sheer silks, the woman Ranma named Ruby rolled her eyes. "If I had a dagger, I'd show you what was wrong, Ranma." The spite in her voice was palpable.

Ranma smirked, this was one of the reasons he had sought this woman. "I'd be happy to give you a dagger Ruby, my gem," Ranma reached within his shirtsleeve and pulled out a custom dagger, shaped like a Chinese dragon in flight. "Just be careful, you could put out an eye," So saying, Ranma tossed the dagger to embed itself a quarter-inch from Ruby's head on the back of the couch.

Ruby sat stock-still, fear causing her body to shudder. "Th-th… Thank you…" she squawked out, with a dry throat.

Ranma pushed the bike from the room and headed for the entry gate.

Still shaking from her near death, Ruby could only watch as the man called Damien, Son of the Devil, laughed like a madman…

Within his cell, the wanderer watched as a young girl brought him some water with a sweet smile on her face. He couldn't repress the smile that spread over his own face.

"Idiot! You really screwed up," a voice came from the back of the cell. The wanderer took a moment to look at him and turned back to the girl at guard duty. The boy spat in disgust at the man.

The girl knelt down and offered the stranger a cup of water, setting it reverently on the ground. Seeing an opportunity to escape – and with his hands in tact, no less – the boy charged the girl and pulled her arms into the cell.

"Well, what are you waiting for?! Grab the keys!" he barked at the idiot. "They'll hang us both! You were caught stealing!"

The man reached up from his place, lying on the ground and gripped the boy's elbow, which had the effect of sending tendrils of energy sparking in all directions from the point of contact.

The boy's eyes enlarged and he jerked back with surprise, causing the girl to rocket away and land on her backside, rubbing the sensation from his elbow. The sensation only increased, until the boy was on the ground, rolling in agony. "That hurts! What'd you do?!"

The man ignored the blood-curdling howls of pain and addressed the host. "Forgive me. May I have another cup of water?"

The young girl stared into the man's compassionate eyes, and for the first time in years she felt like she had a parent again. She hastily got to her feet and nodded with a smile.

The boy, who was finally regaining control over his arm, gave the drifter a cursory glance over. "Hey you, what the hell's your problem?"

The drifted settled down and laid his head to rest on his forearm like a pillow. "What would happen to that girl, if you had run away?"

While the man had spoken lightly, the acoustics of the former police jail sent the words to the girl. She stopped mid-step and turned to face the man, shock and awe in her visage.

"That's a wimpy thing to say these days, mister!" the boy accused. 'Seriously, what kind of a coward has magic like him, but doesn't use it to take control?' the boy thought in annoyance.

A lone man, riding his bike through one of the large expanses of desert enjoyed the feel of the wind in his hair. It was a lot better than walking, and the sun seemed to be especially nasty today.

With a suddenness that surprised the rider, he sneezed and nearly bit the dust.

"What the hell?! Someone must be plottin' my death!" he shouted to deserted mountains around him. Deciding it would be best to reach his destination faster than anyone else could achieve, he opened up the throttle and blasted through the desert at nearly 250 MPH.

"She doesn't speak," the boy named Bart informed the drifter, after watching him try to speak with the girl. "Her heart's all closed up,"

The man's head whipped to face the young girl. "She doesn't talk?"

"I heard that she saw her own parents and older brother get killed by bandits; so it's not really all that surprising," Bart spouted, chewing on the confection the girl had brought. "Ever since then, the shock has kept her from talkin'," the boy shrugged his shoulders dispassionately. "She's all alone now, that's why she guards the jails, even though she's just a kid. Those guys out there are usually pretty mean to her; sucks to be a kid these days…" something in voice said that he knew all too well the situation the young girl was in.

Had he of stopped to look, he would have noted that the girl had gone ashen-faced, remembering the horrible events that always stayed fresh in her mind. A few tears began to fall from her eyes.

"Well, guess she chose the wrong time to be born!" the boy teased, hiding his emotions under a façade again. He looked up to the drifter, but noted the girl's expression. "Oh! I'm so sorry Lynn! I know you can't choose when you're born!" he tried, hoping to console the girl and apologize in one fell swoop. "I'm sorry…"

Seeing the girl's tears, "It's tough, huh?"

The young girl shook her head, trying to put on a brave front, but the man knew that she must have seen hell.

The wanderer leaned forward against the railing of the cage and reached for her head. For a moment the girl looked read to scream and retreat. "It's alright, hold still," he coaxed her, and set his hands to the sides of her head. He spent a moment concentrating and sent a bolt of energy into her body, releasing her tongue and ebbing away the memories.

A duo of villagers came to the girl's place and barked to the prisoners. "Get up! The elder has returned."

In a room lit with candles and lanterns an old man with a long white beard was standing on a dais, with four guards at his sides, ready to defend him at a moment's notice.

The drifter was dragged forcibly into the room and made to stand at the elder's front, suspended by a guard on each arm.

"Where are you going?" the elder asked of the drifter. His well-aged eyes had seen many a thing in his days, so he knew a man on a mission when he saw one.

"No where special," the drifter replied. He really saw no need to tell the elder of his quest, as it was dangerous enough as it is.

"Elder do you think he might be one of Zeed or Ranma's men?" asked a burly man with tanned skin. He really didn't feel like being the one to ask, but knew that someone had to.

"If he is one of Zeed's, then he'll have some marking on his body; but he's definitely not Ranma's or he wouldn't be needing water," the elder spoke. 'At the worst this man is one of Zeed's who got separated from his pack during another squabble with Ranma's forces.' "Remove his clothing," the elder commanded, preparing his aged eyes to see any marks of Zeed – usually Z666.

Two men came up and ripped away his cloak, denim vest and red shirt, revealing seven scars that went down his frontside in the shape of the dig dipper.

The elder gasped in horror, his eyes fixated on the scars.

"Elder, what's wrong?!" asked a young man, stepping forward and ready to defend with his life.

'The big dipper… The stars that foretell death,' The Elder thought with much trepidation. 'Wherever this symbol appears, Chaos follows… This is a bad omen, very bad!'

A cry rent the air, bringing all conversations to an end. "TROUBLE, IT'S ZEED! EVERYONE GET READY!"

Riding like demons on wheels, Zeed led his pack of marauders to the small village, hoping to succeed in this endeavor before Ranma returned.

The echoes of bloodlust began to stir within the chest of Zeed, a feeling he had lost while locked up and awaiting coliseum duty, whatever that was. "HUH! HUH! HUHHAHAHAHA!" Zeed laughed in glee as he mowed down the village's pathetic protectors. "DIE WEAKLINGS!"

All around, the area was bathed in blood and death.

A man just finished locking the drifter in his cell, and handed the keys to Lynn, the 8-year-old girl. "Lynn, come on, you have to fight too," he remarked. It was a sad but true statement.

Lynn firmed her resolve and prepared her heart for death. Just before heading into battle, she tossed the keys to the drifter.

Ranma was riding hard, and pushing his bike to its limit and then some. He had a goal to meet and no time to waste!

He pulled the bike to a halt for a brief moment and looked around the basin he was passing. 'Damn, I could have sworn I just saw something…' he thought. Ranma unfastened the helmet and slid it off his head, freeing his long-flowing black hair.

The sound of motors greeted Ranma's ears, telling him that things were about to get interesting…

"Oh man!" Bart gloated. "She's got it bad for you!" he knelt down and lifted the keyring, spinning it on a finger, "She let you have the keys; she knows she might get killed!" Through it all Bart was grinning ear-to-ear, ready to make his great escape.

The drifter turned his head ever so slightly. "Lynn might get killed?" he questioned the boy.

Bart shrugged back his shoulders, "Well, Zeed and his men kill women and children." Bart informed as he began the task of testing the keys on the lock. "Eh…? What's wrong with this thing?" A movement from off to the side, caught Bart's attention and he turned to face the drifter.

The man placed a hand on two bars that stood next to each other, bolts of pure power arc from his body, some reaching three feet over his head. He began to exercise a breathing technique that augmented his power tenfold. With strength only a select few possess, the man twisted the bars apart, wide enough to fit a horse through, comfortably.

Bart freaked, in astonishment of the power that this drifter possessed. "Just where does he keep his power…?"

Ranma looked at the twenty or so soldiers that surrounded him, carrying clubs that extended into ninchaku. "Hey, do any of you big strong guys think you could tell me where I can find Shin?" Ranma questioned, striking a pose that was only attractive in his female form.

The group of men seemed repulsed by the thought of a man being their bedmate. "NOW YOU'RE GONNA DIE, ASS-HOLE!" shouted one of the men, the rest more than happy to oblige. As one they rushed at Ranma, trying to put him down fast.

Ranma smirked, 'Still haven't lost my touch, I guess…' he mused. Ranma dodged around wild swings and savage kicks, easily avoiding the men's clumsy assaults. "If this is the best you can do, then I shouldn't have wasted my time on you! I've a schedule to keep, you know," Ranma taunted, infuriating the men.

"I'll show you what I think of your schedule!" one of the more burly men stated. With a gesture, all the others stepped back and away, giving space for a one-on-one battle. "Alright, Capt. Sparx!" "YEAH! CRUSH 'EM!" Whistles and hoots came up from the group as they cheered on the second most revered fighter in God's Army.

Sparx, a two-meter tall man, was of African descent and had dreadlocks that reached his shoulder blades, and dark shades that hid his eyes. The blue military uniform was crisp and unwrinkled, and though he was out in the desert, not a speck of dust was on it. "Before you die, I want to know your name, so I can tell the colonel you were looking for God." The man presented the statement like Ranma were an uneducated toddler.

Ranma gave a rueful smile - due to the training styles he had acquired after Happosai's death, he was able to halt his ageing. "The name's Ranma, Ranma Saotome of Musabetsu No Ken: The Infinity Fist."

Sparx appeared wholly unimpressed and quite bored with the presentation. Adjusting his shades just to the slightest, he gave Ranma a scornful look. "I'll admit that you've got some skill boy, but there ain't no way you gonna beat me. So, why don't you go running back to your mother's bosom?" He made a shooing motion with his hands. If he didn't have to kill the brat then he wouldn't, but it really didn't matter either way.

Ranma spat on the vest of the captain's uniform. "Oh, silly me, I should watch my aim…" Ranma apologized, though to anyone who was watching, they could tell Ranma meant not a word of it.

"DIE!"

Ranma ducked quickly, smashing through the sound barrier and avoiding a lightning quick whip-strike, aimed for his heart. Seeing that the fight was finally on, he decided to let go of a few of his restraints…

Sparx came at Ranma with his unique style of Whip-strike fighting; a tradition passed down his family since his people were slaves. "Feel my Blitz Hurricane!" Sparx shouted, and perform two hundred thousand whip-strikes in the span of thirty seconds.

Ranma was pushing his body harder than he had since the last time Ryoga and Herb dropped by. "I must be getting out of shape, for you to almost hit me!"

Faster than the eye could follow, Ranma lashed out and sent a fist crashing through the skull of his foe, killing him instantly. "Well, that was anti-climactic," Ranma groused. "I figured he could dodge as fast as he could strike, but I guess not…"

From the shadows of a toppled building, the drifter came rushing out. He froze in surprise.

"Don't you move, or I'll snap this girl's neck like a twig!" Zeed thundered as he held Lynn above his head. In the background, the sound of cackling men could be heard. "You got that? Now bring us all your food and water!"

One man, the only with strength to carry on, shouted to the gathered. "We've got no choice! We have to fight back, NOW!"

Zeed smirked haughtily. "Guess you won't believe me unless you see me do it, huh?" he grunted and began to twist the girl's body one-way and her head the other.

The small girl gasped with fear and pain.

Having seen enough, the drifted began a slow, steady pace, towards the gang leader, Zeed.

The girl saw the man from the corner of her eyes and used the last bit of strength she could muster. "K… KEN!" Zeed paused and turned around to spot the man approaching him with a deathwish. "NO! DON'T!" Lynn refused to watch another person she cared about get killed in front of her eyes.

Around the spectacle the villagers were in shock. "No way, she talked?! He really did it? Just who is that guy?" Bart questioned himself.

Ken paused in his steps, assessing the mass of his enemies. And after a second, began to walk again, his pace never ebbing. Finally, after a short eternity, Ken arrived to face the leader of the pack.

The wind picked up for a moment, adding an eerie gloom to the entire area. A few of the Zeed Gang showed expressions of shock and worry. It only lasted a moment; then the group charged forward to stand guard at their leader's front flanks. "Who the hell are you?! You bastard!" Zeed demanded.

Ken stared impassively and cracked his knuckles, preparing to fight. "Get lost."

That did it! Ten of Zeed's men thundered out snide remarks and comments before raising their weapons high and charging. "You've got some nerve!" "Now you're gonna die!"

Ken lashed out with a sidekick, and added a reverse spin to it, snapping back the heads of the oncoming men. With acrobatic skills the group had never witnessed, Ken twirled through the air and landed behind the recovering group, to stand within Zeed's personal space.

"Ken!" Lynn cried in surprise.

Back a distance, the men felt along their jawlines, trying to assess their damages. "What the hell? That didn't even hurt!" "Why, you…" "You wanna make fools of us?! Fools of- fools of- fools OOOF!"

Before everyone's eyes, the man's head began to bulge, twist and ripped itself to pieces, from the inside out.

If that were all then there would be no problem, but it wasn't… "IT HURTS! IT HURTS!" "Wha- What the hell?!" and the rest of the previous attackers repeated their ally's gruesome death, spewing gore across the sun-dried sand.

As the bodies settled into their final resting places, Zeed and his men shook with fear. Not even Ranma could blow people up like that!

"Wha- what was that?" Bart asked no one in particular, therefore got no reply.

The old man, the village's elder, gasped out the words, "Ho- Hokuto… Shin Ken…"

Ken stepped up to the face of Zeed who was frozen stock-still. "Let that girl go now," he commanded softly.

Like a bullhorn sounding its cry, Ken's voice awakened the awed man. Charging his energy, "You killed my men! For that I'll break her neck!" Zeed shouted. He flexed his arm muscles in preparation and began to do so.

"RAAAHH!" Ken released a mighty roar, his voice sounding loudly around the silent village. The blue vest and red shirt he wore shredded from his form like tissue paper; which revealed the seven scars shaped like the big dipper.

Zeed lurched back in alarm, but it was already too late… Flashes of movement allowed one to see Ken strike at certain spots on the face; the nose, right cheek, right temple, everything after that nothing more than a blur of movement as Ken struck points throughout the giant's body.

"WAA! TATATATATATATATATATATATATATA! WAAA! TATATATATATATATATATA! YATAAA!" At the end, Zeed's body was lifted airborne in slow motion.

Lynn was dislodged from her place in Zeed's hands and fell toward the earth with a cry of fright… Only to be caught by Ken. To their backside, Zeed was still coming down from his impossibly slow flight.

Hokuto Hyakuretsu Ken! (Hundred Crack Fist Of The North Star!)

'I've heard that long ago a terrible killing technique was created,' the elder mused, lost in thoughts of the past. Zeed's eyes sprang open. 'It was called Hokuto Shin Ken!' Zeed tested his face for any kind of damage. 'All the fighter's energy is focused into one blow; it hits the vital points, called tsubos (pressure points)…' Finding none, he sat up with murder in his eyes. 'He has just performed a killing technique!' From behind Ken, the massive form of Zeed rose to his full ten-foot height, enshrouded by shadows. 'That damages the body from the inside-out, not the outside-in.'

"Your fists are about as strong as a mosquito's!" Zeed mocked, clutching a mace tightly in his arm.

Ken showed no emotion as he spoke. "You are already dead."

"What?!" Zeed snorted with disdain, until his face began to contort in impossible ways, followed by his belly extending by a full foot. "You've got to be kidding m-!" His cry was cut short when his head flew off.

Immediately after, a geyser of blood erupted from the hole, bathing the area in crimson. His upper torso split down the middle, rocketing in different directions, pulling back together and causing the entire body section to shred to hunks of flesh and pools of blood.

Bart felt his knees turn to jelly and he fell to his backside when they could no longer support him.

The only things remaining of Zeed were his massive lower legs and the boots on them. And soon, even those flew of into the distance.

Ranma shivered as a chill passed down his spine. He quickly scanned the area, left to right and saw nothing but dust for miles. The steady thrum of his electric bike was the only noise that greeted his ears.

"I'm glad I let that fool go free. I'd bet that he went chasing after the man with seven scars," Ranma mused. "Oh well, can't help everyone!" With that, Ranma kicked up the front wheel and hauled ass through the desert land, in search of the ultimate game…

"Colonel! Colonel!" cried the voice of one of the special force operatives.

The Colonel, a massively muscular man with an eyepatch that covered his right eye and a diagonal scar that crossed from the bottom of his left eye to the far left side of his face. "What is it Sgt. Mad?" he questioned calmly.

Sgt. Mad was a giant among giants, with a boot the size of an average man's torso. He had rumors following him spanning for decades, some about killing 500 men single-handedly, others of over a thousand.

Sgt. Mad bowed with reverence to his leader. "Sir, a message just arrived for you at the base of the tower!"

The Colonel grinned madly and rose from his throne. Perhaps now he would be getting that promotion he had been waiting for… "Lead the way, Mad."

The man was shocked. Completely and utterly shocked.

There really wasn't any better an explanation for the emotions traveling through his body. "Wh- Who?" he tried to ask but the incredulity made his attempts all for naught. "Who did this?"

The "This" he was speaking of was a bloodied mess, formerly known as Captain Sparx, the meanest, toughest, bad guy around, and his entire squad; all them were squished into a jeep overflowing with the blood of the dead, even as the jeep tried to continue its path forward.

"There ain't nothin' other than God that could kill Cap'n Sparx!" shouted one of the lieutenants, a man with a slender mustache and a face that spoke volumes of Sadism.

"But why would God want to kill Sparx? It just doesn't make any sense…" replied Sgt. Mad.

The Colonel had remained silent as he assessed the method used to kill these men. "I've seen this killing style before…" he informed, lifting a dismembered arm. "A man called the Dragon King used it; it was back during the war. We had been sent to take control of a place called Jusenkyo Valley."

Sgt. Mad paled as he and Sparx were the only other members to have been a part of the original Red Berets. "You can't mean that that bastard is still alive? We dropped a nuke on his castle!"

"I'm not saying anything, the evidence speaks for itself," the Colonel gestured at the bleeding jeep, turned on his heel and left. He had some reports to make to God before things got out of control.

The sun hung low in the sky as it threatened to sink below the horizon. All around the sky was painted red, unlike the days past when it would give a plethora of colors.

"Hey! Why don't you stay in the village? A guy as powerful as you could have it easy!" Bart called out as he chased behind Ken.

Ken said nothing, but continued traveling on his way, prepared to venture through the uncaring sands of the desertworld.

"All the food and water you want," he continued, unabated. "Hey!" he shouted when Ken still refused to answer him. "Hold on a sec," he whispered to himself, plotting an idea in his own mind. "If I stick with him, I'll never go hungry again… H-HEY! Wait for me!" he called and charged off after him…

Back at the settlement, Lynn realized that Ken was no longer there at her side. Both the young girl and her puppy charged after the retreating form already at a distance in the desert, "KEN…! KEEEN! KEN!" she was forced to halt her run when her frail couldn't keep up the pace.

Tears began to well up in the eyes of the girl, and only through a strong willpower was she able to hold back the urge to break down sobbing. "Why? Why are you leaving? Ken…"

From behind the young stood the ancient. "It is said that wherever the sign of the Big Dipper appears, Chaos follows."

Lynn turned her gaze up at the elder, tears still running down her face.

"That man left to save this village, and to save you, too." The elder continued, staring respectfully at the back of Ken's retreating form. "Do you understand Lynn?" The elder placed a reassuring hand on the shoulder of the village's youngest inhabitant.

Lynn couldn't hold back the tears and began to spill anew. "Ken… Ken… KEN!!"

End of CHAPTER ONE.

Wow! This took me a very long time!

When I throw in aspects of different shows I'll try to add an 'AN:' to give you a heads up.

LWH ()

Started 12/15/2007 Completed 12/20/2007

Revised 01/04/2008 & 06/09/2008