…
"Yes sir, it's all true."
…
"We can't find any records of them anywhere. It's as if they've appeared out of thin air. I had trouble believing this myself till I confirmed it all personally."
…
"It's likely the other 'organizations' know about this too if not certain. The Saotome's have made no effort to hide their… abilities."
…
"No sir, we haven't made contact."
…
"Yes sir, we are observing them."
…
"Only a single team, it's all I could spare without compromising our other operations."
…
"They're ordered to intervene if the Saotome's get over their heads and extract them."
…
"I have the utmost confidence in my team. I handpicked them myself for this task."
…
"Of course sir, we'll keep you up to constantly updated on everything."
…
"You're sending someone?"
…
"Hmmm, when can we expect her to arrive?"
…
"Right now they're on a transport cruiser heading to the Citadel with a Quarian in tow. Daro'Xen, she's their current employer, they're acting as her bodyguards."
…
"Their contract was supposed end a week ago, after guarding her during a deal for Geth parts. And I don't need to repeat how that ended; you've read the report sir.
…
"Nothing was salvageable out of the warehouse remains and we were the first ones to arrive on the scene."
…
"We weren't spotted."
…
"Thank you for your time sir. Goodbye."
A blue light illuminated the dark room from its center, revealing its spartan interior. There were no windows, nor any comforts. Just a bed, a metal table, and a closet, the room was made out of a white metal, darkened by the lack of light and covered with moving shadows as the blue light brightened and dimed at random intervals.
Ranma Saotome grunted, a thin aura of blue covering his body. He struggled to master the baseball size ball of blue Ki floating between his hands. It twisted and morphed into chaotic array of shapes. Spikes erupted out, curving in as more spikes grew out of them before being sucked in as the Ki ball contracted in on itself. Slowly, but surely a coherent shape was forming out the mess as drops of sweat ran down Ranma's face and his shirtless back, nearly crawling into his eyes.
Emotions flooded through him. A fierce pride filled his chest at his progression. A burning desire for further control over this elusive ball as it fought his every step. And a madding anger for not getting to this stage sooner and at his many failures. Ranma took all these emotions and channeled them into the Ki ball as fuel and as stimulation.
The ball grew bigger, brighter, shining brilliantly as one would when dumping oil into a fire. The struggles increased and Ranma cursed under his breath, fighting even harder to force his will over it. He shouldn't have done that, again. But he had to otherwise his Ki ball would have faded into air.
Pops wasn't kidding. This is hard. Ranma thought, scowling. His Ki ball was too volatile for its own good and it found his control wanting, even after a week of practice.
When Ranma got back to the apartment from the bodyguard job, the old man immediately sat him down, and showed him a ball of dark purple Ki. Genma made a number of different shapes with it, even firing it into the wall, denting it. He did it again one more time and left Ranma to his own devices as he scoured the fridge for food.
"Stupid little thing! Listen to me!" He ordered, closing in his hands in a slow, agonizing struggle. The blue ball narrowed spinning and stretching itself into a cylinder like shape. Ranma smirked.
"Boy! Go to sleep, you've been doing that for hours now! It's past midnight already!" Genma's shout reverberate through the room's metallic walls and sent Ranma cringing from the sheer sound of it. For a moment the pony-tailed teen thought his father was right beside him, screaming into his ear and that cost him.
The blue ball winked out as Ranma turned his head and instantly snapped back as he caught it out of the corner of his eyes. "No, no, no, no, no, no! Damn it!" Ranma bit his bottom lip, cutting into it and drawing out blood. He spat it out, cursing again as Ki enhanced healing cut off the blood flow and sealed the wound. After a second it was as if the wound was never there in the first place.
Ki drained out of him and back into Ranma's reserves as his battle aura receded into his skin. Exhaustion overtook his body a second later and he collapsed on the cold floor. A shiver ran along his back and arms.
A dull thud was heard as Ranma beat his head against the floor. "Sheesh, fine, I'll just form my Ki-lance tomorrow. And I'll use it to replace that stick up your ass, old man!" He strained his ears for Genma's inevitable reply and heard only light snoring from within the room to his right.
"Tch," Ranma sat up, still irritated enough that he couldn't sleep even if he wanted too. "…What now?" he asked to himself, blue eyes sweeping across the dark room, focusing in on the door as it opened up.
Daro'Xen stumbled inside as the stingy smell of alcohol wrinkled his nose. She stared at him incomprehensibly and raised a shaky hand, pointing a twitching finger for a few long seconds and fell to the floor. Ranma waited till she started snoring and picked her up like a bride and set her softly on the bed, pulling the white covers over as he tucked her in.
"Fireeeeeee, Geeeeeth, whyyyyyyy?" Xen cried within her dreams… or nightmare. It might be the latter. "Geeeeeemaaaa, youuuuuuu, bbbbbosh'tetttttttt!"
"Definitely the latter," Ranma muttered, shaking his head lightly. "Damn it Old man, why does everything end in explosions with you!" His hand clenched as he stalked to the door and into the crusier's white hallway as it slide open. "Why didn't you take those parts instead of saving those mercs? At least we wouldn't have to deal with a shit-faced Xen every night."
He was complaining now and Ranma knew it. They did the right thing in saving those mercs. Leaving them to die wouldn't have sat well with him or his father. The mercs couldn't have escaped, not after what they did to them.
And I'm going to have to do something about Xen's drinking. Maybe teach her the basics of Ki? She's been raising questions about it whenever she's sober. Ranma thought as he passed by a hanar and an elcor. The hanar had… a pair of pistols held in two tentacles. He glanced back, and then did a double take as the hanar spun both pistols and disappeared in the corner with the elcor in tow.
"...I wonder what they're up to." Ranma said, smiling at his good fortune. "This is bound to be interesting." He shoved his hands into his pockets and went after the strange pair.
"Irritated statement: Vorcha, again. Damn it. Can't we deal with anything else, Blasto?" Buben asked in a flat, ponderous monotone as the elcor slowly strode down the cruisers hallways. He had no weapons save for his biotics and heavy shields. There was no need to bring basic elcor weaponry, he was on a ship and he didn't want to punch holes through it with anti-tank fire.
"Criminal scum is criminal scum, no matter their race, Buben." Blasto, the first hanar spectre politely answered, glowing luminescently as it did. Its twin, master crafted pistols were coiled within its tentacles, ready to deliver justice at a moment's notice.
They were here to bust a supposed drug shipment of red sand to the Citadel from Omega. A euphoric stimulant that's supposedly enhances biotic powers and if taken in great doses give biotics to non-biotics. Asari and batarians are said to be immune to its effects but it's quickly becoming one of the most popular drugs to hit black-market for the other races in the galaxy.
An elevator to take them to the lower levels was just up ahead as they turned a corner and Blasto whipped his pistol behind him, turning as he did. Buben did the same, only far slower.
"Curiously: Is someone following us?" He asked, peering down the hallway.
"This one isn't sure. It's best if we be on our guard for now." Blasto answered, still staring down the hallway as it floated backwards to the elevator. It opened as the spectre pressed a key and hovered in, Buben following half a minute later.
The doors shut and soft, cheerful elevator music played as it descended down at a relaxed pace. Buben thought to himself, and as he did an idea formed, he knew who could possibly following them. That muscular human, the one they passed earlier, he remembered him, from Omega. Specifically, from those viral videos of a human taking apart krogan in Omega's battle arena. Their faces look the same. Why didn't he realize it before, he was a former detective, damn it.
He and Blasto had both heard of him, Ranma Saotome, but were too late to investigate when everything ended. After that they went on to investigate a warehouse rumored to store red sand, guarded by eclipse mercs. They found it in flaming ruins, damn it.
And now they were here after 'acquiring' information through a number of Vorcha. If Elcors could sigh, he would. He was getting too old for this, damn it. Why didn't he take the retirement instead of partnering up with this psychotic hanar spectre?
Damn it, he needed a drink.
"Eureka: Blasto, I think I know who's following us." Buben spoke up as the elevator doors opened. He voiced his thoughts as the pair cautiously advanced into the bowls of the cruiser, lit with an orange tint. Below them as they went up the ramp, onto a walk way were thick wires and cables snaking into other sections of the cruiser. There was no one around save for them and the ever-present sound of the ships drive core reverberating through the area.
"Hmm, this one had his own thoughts on the matter too. But it needed more evidence before it could voice its hypothesis." Blasto answered, raising twin pistols as they approached an intersection.
"Hilarious laughing: You, evidence? I'd thought I'd never live to see the day." Buben stated, taking a left.
"It surprises this one as well." Blasto admitted, and Buben sensed the rare emotion of surprise radiating from the hanar. It quickly vanished as the spectre shook itself. "But anyway, how close are we to the vorcha scum, Buben? This one's trigger tentacles are itchy."
Buben took in a deep whiff, they were close, he could smell Vorcha and the intoxicating fragrance of red sand from here about fifty meters away, the criminals hadn't notice them yet. And just barely he could make out the human's scent too despite the high sense of smell all elcor have. The human was good, very good at hiding but Buben was better.
Buben voiced his findings as they approached a door and asked, "curiously: What shall we do to the human if he keeps following us?"
"This one does not mind, the human can watch so long as he does not help the criminal scum." Blasto answered, "If he should choose to do so," the hanar cocked his pistols, somehow. "Then this one shall deliver it a bullet. It has many to spare and so few targets."
"Sighing: And if he chooses to help us?" Buben asked as the door slid open, revealing a darkened interior that had seen far better days.
"Then this one is pleased, and will give him its thanks in assisting the law." Blasto answered, glowing brightly as if it were happy.
"Badassfully: Got it, let's do this and try to make arrests this time. We need information on the other shipments."
"This one makes no promises. Vorcha scum is prone to taking much effort to subdue non-lethally. It cannot be certain it could hold back enough. And you know, Buben, a bullet cannot hold itself back. Especially if it's incendiary," Blasto gave off a smug glow as it floated pass the door, guns raised infront of it.
"Dull anger: Blasto, damn it." Buben spoke as he took point, Blasto following behind. They ignored the doors they passed. There were no one in there, and if they were Buben would have smelt them already. Few things could hid from an Elcors nose.
"Do you smell anyone approaching?" Blasto whispered after a minute of traversing. They were nearing another intersection.
"Yes, yes I do. A pair of vorcha, likely a patrol, is coming in from the left." Buben quietly answered.
"Then this one is pleased." Blasto floated closer, till he was hiding behind the corner. Its pistols were raised as it hugged the wall. If it were human it'd be grinning by now. Buben stood still, hiding within the darkest parts of the shadows. And they waited as tense seconds passed by.
The vorcha patrol appeared, armed with shotguns held lazily in their hands. They weren't expecting any trouble and Blasto proved them wrong as he slide behind them as they passed, raising its pistols to their heads and cocked them.
"Halt right there, criminal scum!" Blasto ordered, and fired as the vorcha whirled around, raising their shotguns. In their death throes they fired once into each other, shredding their chests as they toppled to the floor, half of their heads missing from Blasto's inferno rounds.
"Dull angry insult: Blasto, you big stupid jelly fish, the rest of the Vorcha heard those shots. They're coming here, damn it."
"Then we shall be finished sooner as this one would like to wash off what little brains the vorcha scum have that are covering it." Blasto happily glowed as he took cover, blood dripping on to the floor from its form.
"Irritated sigh: I hate getting shot, damn it," Buben readied his biotics and waited for the inevitable firefight.
Ranma winced within the darkness as gunfire erupted down hallway. The hanar, Blasto and its elcor partner, Buben were shooting out with a bunch of vorcha drug smugglers with a combination of duel pistol fire and biotics. And judging from the vorcha screams of pain and agony as they died, it was a rather… one-sided curbstomp. Briefly, he wondered if he should help these supposed law officers.
Personally, Ranma thought they were vigilantes or something. He watched Blasto kill the two vorcha, slowly in his wide eyes. The bloody scene sickened him, what a waste of life. Not that he didn't condone killing, Ranma saw the necessity of it, but only as a last resort. His father drilled that lesson into him.
"If precious lives are at risk, do it and don't regret it."
That was Genma said, one of the few things Ranma would follow till the day he died. Those vorcha should have surrendered, they had their chance and they were too stupid to take it.
And… it wasn't as if they were good either. They reeked of blood not of their own and that red sand drug, Blasto and Buben were after. He overheard much of what they talked about on their way here. It was a surprise that the elcor could smell him, despite his best attempts. The old man would be livid, and send him back into survival training if he ever heard of this.
Ranma shuddered. He really didn't want to deal with stone wolves' aga-
He pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling at himself. Why was he thinking about this!?There was a fight going on, this wasn't the time to be thinking!
It was time for action!
And I know just what to do, Ranma thought, chuckling darkly as he sunk into the shadows, right hand held in a chopping position. A faint blue glow irradiated from his fingers, growing brighter as he neared the metal wall. Blue Ki solidified, sharpening as it gathered around his hand and if one would look closely an outline of a knife hovering an inch off of Ranma's arm.
He might not have made any real progression in ranged Ki attacks, but melee attacks came easily as he used his body as a mold instead of his mind. It made things a lot simpler.
Ranma quickly carved out a triangular doorway with a trio of slashes. Metal parted before his knife as if it were butter and flew as he kicked it in, and dashed inside. Ranma moved to the next wall, behind it he heard the Vorcha smugglers snarling and screeching curses and insults at Blasto and Buben in between bursts of gunfire. Their hissing, raspy voices really grated on his sharp ears.
As Ranma reached the wall his knife flashed three more times, and kicked out another triangular door. Dashing in, he dispelled his knife, balling it into a fist and struck at the nearest vorcha's face with a quick jab, sending the alien straight into the realm of unconsciousness. Two more followed as Ranma raced down the hallway.
There was no one behind him, but infront of him were four more vorcha hugging the corners for cover, two on each side. All that was left of a group of twelve, their corpses, mangled and warped from biotic attacks and punctured with shouldering holes from incendiary rounds laid strewed across the T intersection.
Despite the slow pace he observed Blasto and Buben work fast. It had only been half a minute had pass since the fire fight started. Or maybe the vorcha charged at them like idiotic lemmings at first.
Meh, Ranma thought, shrugging, I better end this now.
The firefight ended abruptly, a few seconds after Blasto heard the sound of metal smacking into metal, to its side and again a moment after, this time where the vorcha scum were gathered. Then constant offending screams and insults said scum were spewing out ended mid cry as a speeding blur nearly too fast for it to track passed over its vision. Honed reflexes took over, before Blasto even realized and fired its twin pistols, missing the blur by scant inches. Buben fired a warp blast a second later, achieving nothing but ruining the wall infront of him.
"Hey! Wait, wait! Hold your fire, don't shoot!" A human voice cried out, a male in his teens if Blasto guessed correctly. The different voices coming from human genders were hard to differentiate at times. They all tend to sound the same to it, though much of its experience came from shooting humans. All things blurred together during gun fights. Blasto was lucky it already knew who helped it.
"This one asks you to come out slowly, hands raised above your head, facing forward." Blasto ordered, raising its pistols down the hallway. A quick glance told it Buben had his biotics ready and waiting.
"Right, right, right, just don't shoot." Ranma agreed, doing just that as he walked out with a calm expression. Confidence radiated out of every movement, every movement, like that of an apex predator. His fists dripped blood on the floor and onto his clothes and an irritated scowl tugged at his lips.
He must have punched the vorcha, Blasto thought, glowing slightly as it did, the hanar equivalent of an amused smile.
"Well?" Ranma asked impatiently, shooting annoyed glances at both his hands.
"This one asks you to identify yourself, civilian and then as to why you helped us deal with the criminal scum." Blasto asked, "It appreciates what you did though."
"Ranma Saotome, age sixteen, traveling martial artist," Ranma answered lazily, "and as to why I help you, why wouldn't I? Martial artists always help people out."
"Curious question: What if you choose to help the wrong side?" Buben slowly spoke up, stepping forward.
Ranma snorted. "I didn't and you already know why."
"Sighing: And what if that weren't the case?" Buben asked, biotic aura receding within him. Blasto didn't lower its pistols, keeping them focused on Ranma. One to the head, the other to his reproductive organs.
Ranma only smiled, shooting quick glances at it and Buben. Blasto knew that sort of look, it seen it every day. The look when one compares itself to another, wondering who'd come out victorious in a fight.
And Blasto wasn't sure it'd or Buben come out on top, but neither was Ranma, judging from the slight, uncertain look on his face that quickly vanished as soon as it appeared.
…What a strange human, Ranma acted more like a krogan than krogan themselves. Blasto wouldn't be surprised if it found out that the human was raised by them if it were possible. Humanity had only been known in the galaxy for a mere five years.
"And you two are…" Ranma trailed off.
"Buben, former officer from C-Sec and thank you for your assistance." the elcor answered.
"This one's face name is known as, Blasto the first hanar spectre." It greeted, lowering its pistols with no little effort on its part. One can't be certain when gun fights might start. Blasto was taught to maintain constant vigilance by his mentor after all.
"You're a spectre?" Ranma asked, blinking.
"Yes, this one is, and proud of it." Blasto glowed brilliantly. It was all true; it loved being a spectre, free to deliver its own brand of justice to the cowardly criminal scum of the galaxy. Many of its colleagues questioned its methods constantly as did the councilors, but its recorded had nothing but results.
Explosive results, but results none the less. Blasto took comfort it wasn't like Saren. It didn't do needless brutality, or ruthlessly throwing away lives to achieve its duties, unlike the Turian spectre. Criminals, and criminals only no civilians if Blasto could help it. That was its line.
Saren had none.
"Huh," Ranma spoke up, as Blasto pulled itself out of its thoughts. The human must have been doing the same. "You know, I'd thought spectres would be…" Ranma crossed his arms, tapping a foot as he trailed off again. "Taller, more intimidating, and wore hats."
"This one is sorry to displease you then," Blasto answered, floating on ahead. They spent enough time talking, it was time to deal with the red sand shipment. Buben followed his partner shortly.
As the elcor did he asked Ranma as he passed, "curiously: Where did you get that assumption of spectres? Stories and rumors on the extranet?"
Ranma shook his head, frowning as he slowly walked with Buben. "Na, to me spectres sound like something straight out of a British inquisition novel. Those books are always fun to read. Lots of action and fighting, the mystery was okay too. The romance… not so much, those scenes sucked!" the human threw his hands up in exasperation as he finished.
"This one asks, do you have any? Though it may not look like it, it is quite the advent reader in its spare time and those sound interesting." Blasto asked as they all passed by the vorcha bodies, still out cold.
"…Aren't you going to cuff them or something?" Ranma asked, completely forgetting Blasto's question as he spotted the bodies.
"…" Blasto paused, hovering as it considered the humans question.
"Irritated sigh: Damn it, Blasto, you forgot the cuffs again, didn't you?" Buben said, shaking his head ever so slightly. Ranma bit back a snicker as he gathered the vorcha bodies into one large pile, tearing their weapons in half as he did.
"…This one admits that it did. For it rarely has need for cuffs." Blasto answered as it turned to face the two.
"Irritated Statement: Because you kill nearly every criminal you encounter, damn it."
"This one disagrees; it is clearly the fault of the criminal scum for being uncooperative with it." Blasto shook its form and glowed darkly.
"Right, I'm done here, don't worry about the vorcha getting up or away anytime soon." Ranma interrupted their banter. Blasto floated up as Buben turned around. They saw Ranma without his shirt, revealing his muscular torso in all its glory. Corded muscles rippled as he dusted his hands.
Behind him were the vorcha, seven in all, and all were piled together in a circle. In such a way that one couldn't escape without assistance from the rest due to the way their hands were tied tightly behind their backs with strips of Ranma's shirt. And said strips were glowing blue.
Blasto slowly floated down as Ranma walked up to rejoin them. For a quiet second they considered each other. Blasto broke the silence. "This one asks, what did you do, Ranma? Why are those strips of cloth glowing?"
Ranma smirked as he raised his hand infront of Blasto and Buben. As he got their attention, Ranma made a fist, and it flashed brilliantly, enough to illuminate the dark hallway in a blue light. As the spots cleared from Blasto's sight it saw a light blue aura glowing around Ranma's fist and then travel down, till it enveloped the human's entire body.
"Curious question: Is that Biotics?" Buben spoke after slowly examining Ranma's hand.
He shook his head. "Na, this is Ki. Something way different than biotics, it's another form of energy. It's the energy of life itself." Ranma answered, still smirking. "I channeled it into those strips of cloth I tied the Vorcha with, reinforcing it immensely. Those strips are now stronger than steel, and will stay that way for an hour or two. It's called the Iron Cloth technique, a basic technique all martial artists know."
Blasto and Buben stood silent for a few long minutes as they digested what Ranma had just said and kept sharing glances between each other.
"What? Aren't you guys curious or something?" Ranma frowned.
"Oh yes, this one is quite interested. It only needed time to collect its thoughts. Would you mind sharing more as we finish with this drug bust?" Blasto asked, shaking itself out of its stupor. If what Ranma is saying is true then this discovery could be quite… big to say the least.
Ranma grinned. "Sure, why not. I have nothing better to do anyways."
"Where the hell am I now!?" Ryoga Hibiki screamed at the unforgiving world as he trekked through the sudden steppes he found himself in, under the hot light of an orange sun. The lost boy glared at it for a second, before pulling his gaze away, scowling as he did.
This week hadn't been good; he couldn't find one hint of Ranma anywhere! That coward, that bastard! How dare he run away from him! Ryoga Hibiki! Their bread feud was still on, he remembered it like it was yesterday, still fresh in his mind and that of the conclusion to their final duel.
The one that Ranma ran away from!
"I gave him three days! I gave him ample time to show up!" Ryoga shouted, setting his large camping pack, stuffed to the brim with all sorts of things on the soft ground. He pulled out his trusty umbrella, setting it on the ground. Ryoga opened it up, providing him with shade as he pulled out a whole host of other things as he emptied out his camping pack and made camp.
It didn't take long, only a few minutes. Ryoga had plenty of experience; after all he'd done this for most of his life and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. Members of the Hibiki clan… tend to get lost, really lost. Ryoga more so than others, even his parents. Both of whom were really famous for their skills in getting lost, intentionally and accidently.
Maybe it was because he was descended from them, or maybe it was because some sick and twisted god took pleasure in his bizarre adventures. Or maybe it could be all Ranma's fault.
"Defiantly Ranma's fault," Ryoga muttered, peering into the far off sky underneath the shade of his umbrella. He frowned as he did, this place seemed familiar. Crossing his arms, he looked up, back at the dawning orange sun again and at the floor.
Ryoga scooped up the healthy dirt and grass, letting fall in between his fingers and onto the yellow blanket below. He took in the smells with a deep whiff. The air was clean, far cleaner than most places he's been through. He smelled only nature in all its beauty.
"At least it's not trying to kill me this time around." Ryoga sighed, crawling towards an unlit campfire a few feet away, surrounded by stone and dirt. He pulled out his flint and steel, and carefully started up a fire. He could potentially set fire to this entire field if he misused his flint and steel! And Ryoga witnessed it once, the same time he got this tool.
Ryoga shuddered, shaking his head. Those poor, poor blocky mine-
Wait!
He rose, he knew where he was!
"I'm on-"
"Rannoch, hello again Ryoga-Wander," A digital voice suddenly spoke behind the lost boy.
Ryoga smiled as he turned around to see a robot, a geth materialize infront of him as it disengaged its tactical cloak. The lost boy walked towards it, arms held wide and hugged the synthetic, lifting is up into the air as he did.
"Checkers! It's good to see you!" Ryoga chuckled and set the geth down before he damaged it. Checkers and its kind were pretty fragile… well… a lot of things were fragile underneath his strength.
A single glowing eye looked at Ryoga, and at his camp. Its metal plates surrounding the eye folded out in a faint, flower like shape. They lifted in and out as Checkers regarded the situation with perfect awareness.
"You have made camp." It simply stated.
"Well, of course, I've been traveling all day!" Ryoga answered as he walked back to said camp, and to the campfire. He beckoned Checkers, one his few true friends in life to follow.
It did, recording everything it could see for Ryoga-Wander always brings some of the most curious and illogical things to Rannoch whenever he visited. Some are still being figured out by the geth consensus, like Ryoga-Wander's ability to walk between the boundaries of dimensions.
It should be impossible, yet it's not.
A challenge, one the geth will figure out as they will for all organic mysteries in due time. And all 1,183 programs built within the platform known as Checkers agree with the rest of the geth consensus. It was designed to communicate with them after all, ever since Ryoga-Wander made himself known four years ago.
Checkers kneeled infront of Ryoga as he prepared himself a cup of jasmine tea. He sipped it once, and released a blissful sigh as all his troubles seemed to float in the air. Ryoga's smile brightened. The human teenager and the geth platform regarded each other in silence. The former, appreciating the view of Rannoch's setting sun. The latter, processing a sudden new stream of information from geth network regarding Ryoga-Wander.
"Ryoga-Wanderer, we know where the being known as Ranma Saotome currently is." Checkers spoke as the orange sun vanished beneath the horizon.
Ryoga grinned.