Miscellaneous Debris
Chapter 4
Recommended listening: "Ruiner" by Nine Inch Nails, off of their album The Downward Spiral (Warning: explicit lyrics)
Alternate listening: "If We Panic, We Die!" by the Organ Donors, off of their album Nervous By Nature
Ver. 0.3.2
The, uh, the wound in my leg wasn't too terribly bad. Like I said, I wouldn't have even noticed it if the medic hadn't pointed it out. They patched me up and would have sent me on my way were it not for the hearing loss. They kept me overnight just to make sure that I didn't die from brain damage or something, I think. I guess I don't really know the procedure for hearing loss.
The next morning I found that my hearing hadn't gotten much better. The muffled grunts got a little louder, but I couldn't make out any actual words yet. I changed and walked out of the hospital, which apparently didn't bother anyone, since I didn't get stopped.
See, the strange thing is that when I got back to my apartment and washed my face, I turned into a girl – of course. Well that wasn't the strange part. When it happened, my hearing got better immediately. Don't get me wrong, I could still only make out static, basically, but the static was much much louder.
One thing I've noticed over the years is that my female body heals much more quickly than my male body. If I have a broken arm or something it's going to stay broken no matter how many times I change back and forth between sexes; but small cuts and bruises disappear, I can shake off any amount of alcohol instantly, and major wounds tend to heal more quickly. Must be something to do with the magic.
(She touches her nose hesitantly) Yeah, see, the swelling is already starting to go down.
But that's as much as I know. (Ranma nods to Dr. Tofu.) If you want to write a paper on Jusenkyo or something, go somewhere else for info.
I took that day and the next off because so much had happened, and also the base was on lockdown. Even if I had wanted to teach they wouldn't have let me.
By the third day my hearing had more or less come back. It still wasn't one hundred percent, but I could actually hold conversations again, which was a plus.
I woke up that morning and did some forms in my small living room. A knock came suddenly, which was supremely odd, since I had gotten used to waking up around 5:00 AM in order to exercise before teaching classes.
It turned out to be the Lieutenant Colonel. His face made a peculiar sort of twitch when I opened the door. "Is this a bad time?"
"No," I replied, "why?" He glanced meaningfully at my chest. I wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes and had worked up a good sweat by that time. "Oh, no, no, I am exercising. Please come in, I will put on a shirt."
I jogged back to my room to get dressed. When I returned, Harpaz was standing in the middle of the living room, just looking around, holding a paper bag. "So, uh, how are you?" I offered lamely.
"Fine, Mr. Nguyen. I was not injured badly." His hand went to his hip.
"Ah, I thought I saw you get shot. You heal quickly." It didn't even look like he was limping.
His smile caught me off guard, as he did not smile much. "The bullet glanced off of my sidearm, so I was only bruised, thankfully. Though it was a waste of a good pistol."
"Good." There was a strange hesitancy about my boss that morning, something which clashed with his generally assertive nature. "Um, would you like a glass of water?"
"Oh, no, thank you. No, the reason I came to see you, Mr. Nguyen, was to thank you for saving my life and the lives of my men." The hardened military man reached into his paper bag and pulled out a bottle of liquor. "I realize it is not much when compared to human lives, but I am afraid that this was all I could think of to thank you."
Not wanting to be rude, I took the bottle from him and looked it over. "What is it?"
"It is a fifty-year old, single-malt, Islay Scotch from a now defunct distillery. Excellent nose and as smooth as silk."
I inhaled so sharply I actually started coughing. "Fifty years?!" I exclaimed, re-examining the bottle in my hands. "I can not take this. It must have been very expensive." Suddenly nervous I thrust the item back into his hands.
"Please, take it." He gently pushed the gift back towards me. "As I said, it is nothing as compared to a life." When I finally set the bottle down, he continued, "Again, I apologize for the paltry offering, but I'm afraid that I am not a man for luxuries."
"I work for you. I was doing my job."
His gaze hardened. "No, Mr. Nguyen, you went out of your way to ensure that people you barely knew made it out of that building alive. In fact, it was unacceptable of me to force you on the mission in the first place, but you took it all in stride. I only wish I had a better way to thank you." Although there's no proof, I think I saw him wipe a tear out of his eye, then. "Also, that boy you pulled out of the fire is the son of a good friend of mine. My friend died many years ago, but I promised him that I would look after the boy." His gaze locked with mine for a long minute.
I laughed and scratched my head nervously. "Well thank you, I guess."
The Lieutenant Colonel offered his hand. "No, thank you."
We shook hands that day, for the last time. As a Lieutenant Colonel, he wasn't supposed to actually put himself in danger's way. For punishment he got reassigned to a tactical position elsewhere in the base, and I didn't get a chance to see him again.
I heard that he died a few years ago in another suicide bombing.
And... well that's all that I have to say about Israel.
Akane leaned forward, her arms crossed on the table. "Huh? What about the rest of the training?"
Ranma's tone remained neutral. "The training went... fine. I got out of there after the two month mark passed, and went onto my next mission."
"What really happened, Ranma?" A dangerous gleam appeared in Nabiki's eye and she pointed a finger at the redhead's clenched fists. "I can tell there's more."
"Nabiki, don't push Ranma. If he doesn't want to tell, he doesn't have to." Kasumi turned a kind smile onto the martial artist. "What was your next mission, Ranma?"
Ranma grit her teeth and sighed. "No, Nabiki is right, I should really tell you the rest. Though it's not very important, and it is fairly unhappy," she added with a glare toward Shin's wife.
"I continued teaching, and I made some friends among the students there. They are good people, the Israelis, or at least the ones I met were." Ranma flipped her braid over her shoulder, allowing the hair to fall loose again, and interlaced her fingers. "The day before the final lesson, or what I thought was going to be the final lesson, I received word from the Order that I had to leave immediately. My next mission was waiting, and was more important than the last day of training.
"I didn't really have a choice. So I told my new boss the deal and got driven to the airport. A day or two later I caught a news program on TV, and it showed the aftermath of a second push by the Palestinians. I saw a couple of my students – my friends dead on the ground." She took a breath and ploughed ahead. "There was a firefight somewhere in the city, and they got assigned to the convoy that was supposed to relieve frontline soldiers. Well the convoy got hit by explosives on the way, and..." Ranma shifted her shoulders. "If I'd stayed for the extra lesson, they wouldn't have had to go out on the trucks. They wouldn't have died."
Takeshi allowed Ranma a moment to recover before speaking. "Well, I'm no expert on military tactics, but it seems to me that even if you had been there, they would have gone out anyway. I mean, you just got done telling us how you were dragged along on a mission, and you're not even in their army." Nods of assent came from all sides of the table.
"Believe me, I've thought of that. It doesn't make me feel any better."
Akane's voice was hesitant. "So Ranma, what was your next assignment?" She was obviously trying to change the subject.
"I assassinated the Chariman of the Board of Directors for Sony."
Shin and Nabiki – who had been taking drinks of water – sprayed it all over the table.
"No, not really. Would have been an interesting story, though, huh?" Ranma smiled an arrogant smile, and Akane's heart beat a little faster.
"Why would you do that?" Nabiki started to wipe the front of her suit. "This is a brand new suit!"
"I needed something to cheer me up. Sorry."
"It's just water, Nabiki. Please, continue, Ranma," smiled Kasumi, a little too sweetly.
Ranma cleared her throat and continued.
I didn't assassinate anyone from Sony, but I did end up getting sent to kill someone.
The Order got me a plane ticket to England. I caught a few connection flights in there, but I can't remember how many. At first I was really tired, and then I caught wind of the... attacks in Israel, so...
Eventually I ended up in London. My instructions were to meet an intelligence operative. She was supposed to make contact with me at my hotel, so I caught a cab from the airport, checked in, and waited. I decided against taking a nap, even though I really wanted to. My contact could have showed up at any time.
It only took a couple of hours for her to make contact. As I waited in my room, staring at the wall, I decided on two things: one, I had to mail you guys the money I had left over from Israel. (Nabiki spits all over the table again, and starts coughing.) Yes, that was me, and no, I don't need to be thanked. It was literally the least I could do. I only hope it helped. After all, 300,000 Yen isn't a whole lot.
(Akane incredulously asks, "How did you have that much money 'left over'?")
Well, the Order likes to keep its people happy. When people get sent on missions, the Order usually grants them a stipend from the communal coffers. Since I didn't spend that much money, I sent mine back to you guys.
(Kasumi quietly thanks Ranma with tears in her eyes.)
Sure, no problem. (Ranma clears his throat, embarrassed.)
So, the second thing I decided was that I needed to make friends. All this obsessing over Akane was bad; I couldn't see you again, end of discussion. I needed people to help me get over you.
But things don't always work out the way you want them to.
The door opened.
"Saya?"
"Hello, Ranma." She closed the door and bowed. "Good to see you again."
I bowed back. "What the hell are you doing here?" Then it hit me like Akane's mallet. "Wait, you're my intelligence contact?"
"Yes." A file folder flopped onto the bed. "You will find the details of the mission in that folder. I must rest; my flight was long and I am tired."
As she opened the door to leave I managed to spurt, "What about Dmitri?" Classy.
She froze. "I realize it was not your doing. I was wrong to have blamed you. I am sorry." Then she was gone.
I took a hot shower to clear my head and turn back into a guy. Whenever Saya showed up, I seemed to get flustered. (Nabiki smirks predatorily.) Shut it. It wasn't like that.
After I got out I steeled my resolve and opened the folder. What I saw was unexpected, to say the least.
What I first noticed was that I had to kill someone. That left me so shocked and angry that I had to close the folder and just sit for a while.
Later, I managed to read more about my mission: I was to kill a U.S. Government employee named John Bower. Apparently the CIA suspected him of funneling secret documents to the Chinese, or something, but they couldn't manage to catch him red-handed. Fed up, they'd hired us to kill him. Better to eliminate a potential security risk, blah blah blah.
I always thought it was kind of funny that they didn't just do it themselves.
But anyway, he lived in Fairbanks, Alaska, in the U.S. The plane was scheduled to leave the next day, so I turned out the light and tried to get some sleep.
I stared at that ceiling all night, trying to convince myself that I wasn't a bad person for doing this.
The morning came, Saya knocked on my door, and we made our way to the airport without speaking to each other. She was supposed to come with me, as she was the only one who knew exactly where the man lived. "Why don't you just tell me, and I can go by myself?" I asked Saya in the taxi.
"Standard operating procedure, Ranma. The fewer people who know something, the smaller chance there is of a security breach." She stared out the window, rain slowly tracing lines down the glass.
I ran my hand through my hair. "Fine, but when we get there, you follow me. I'm the one who's doing this thing, and you have to trust me."
"Fine."
Saya and I had been given new passports. We were traveling as a college student and his younger sister, so things went pretty smoothly overall.
The flight was super long, and I got pretty restless after a while. I tried to sleep, but no chance of that happening. I still wasn't too comfortable on planes.
So we got to Fairbanks, checked into a hotel, and Saya gave me the rest of the run down.
"John Bower is an obsessive-compulsive agoraphobe who works from home. His house has very advanced security systems, including infra-red sensors, motion sensors, and a state-of-the-art system that can detect any change in air pressure – meaning if you open a door or a window while it is active, you will be discovered.
"Tonight is his monthly delivery of foodstuffs. You must find a way inside the house without being detected, wait until the opportunity presents itself, and then kill him. It has to look like an accident."
"Why all the urgency? If he doesn't leave his house, can't we take our time? I mean, we know where he's going to be."
Saya frowned at me. "Our contractor wants him eliminated before tomorrow morning. We do not ask questions."
"Fine, fine." I turned on the television and propped a pillow behind my head. "When does this delivery happen? And do you have blueprints, so I can figure out how to get inside?"
She shook her head and handed me my shoes. "No. The only way into the house is through the garage.
"Every month he receives a shipment of food and other necessities. However, being obsessed with security, he only allows the deliverymen into his garage – which has a separate set of systems, so he can deactivate them without compromising the security in the rest of his house.
"He stays inside his little fortress until the delivery is complete, after which we imagine he moves the items into his house proper. We don't know for sure, though; our employers can't even get any surveillance equipment inside.
"His delivery is scheduled in three hours. We must make our way to the house and await the delivery."
The TV turned off with a muffled click. "So you expect me to just waltz in there without anyone seeing me, evade security systems that I don't even know about, and manage to kill this guy while making it look like an accident?"
"Yes. Now get dressed. We have to go."
The government has an air force base outside of Fairbanks proper, and this guy's house was located just off of the base's property. Moose Creek was the name of the town.
The Order had arranged for transportation in the form of another operative, who picked us up from our hotel and drove us – with directions from Saya - for a little less than 45 minutes until we reached Moose Creek.
He pulled into the rear of a gas station, being careful to avoid the security camera. Saya said, "This is it, Ranma. I will accompany you to the house, then you will enter. I will return with the driver tomorrow morning to pick you up."
"Follow me to the house. I'm in charge, remember?"
Saya smirked a bit. "Okay."
When we exited the vehicle, it pulled out front to get gas – hide in plain sight, as it were. Saya led me into the trees – there are SO MANY TREES in Alaska! – and we made our way through to the guy's house. We had to travel via treetop, actually, because we didn't want to leave any trails.
We eventually came to a small house, in a small clearing, mostly isolated from the rest of the town. "This is it, Ranma. Good luck."
"Wait!" I whispered before she could bolt. "When are you going to pick me up? And how am I going to make it out of the house without setting off any of the alarms? And is this for real?"
"Tomorrow morning, at the gas station; make sure you watch him when he activates the security systems; yes. Good luck, Ranma."
"Well, shit," I muttered to myself.
I had to wait a half an hour before the delivery truck arrived. The short, stubby yellow truck rattled and sputtered as it pulled into the driveway. Two guys got out and started unloading. I figured that this was my only chance.
I cloaked my chi using the Umi-Sen Ken and disguised my physical appearance with a technique I learned in Vietnam.
It's best to show you how it works rather than explain it. (Ranma closes her eyes, then disappears, causing exclamations from around the table. She reappears a second later.) Basically it bends light around you, so you appear invisible.
So with my chi and my body invisible, I attained the Soul of Ice to erase any heat I'd give off, and I started toward the house.
It was summer, so there wasn't any snow on the ground. It had rained the night before, though, so I left a very visible trail.
Virtually invisible, I approached the driveway, but stopped just before I stepped onto the property. I realized I'd leave wet footprints.
The garage door opened suddenly, and the delivery personnel started wheeling in handcarts full of stuff. I didn't have a whole lot of time.
I made my way around to the corner of the garage and took off my shoes and socks, making sure to step barefoot on the pavement. After that I had to figure out how to hide my footwear. There weren't any bushes or rocks or anything, so I eventually decided to wrap them in my shirt and bring them with me.
So, shoeless and in my undershirt, I snuck into the garage just as the last load of items was being dropped off. The garage door closed and I looked around the room, trying to figure out how I could make my way through the single door into the house without my mark noticing me.
The door opened and he stepped out. He was wearing a surgical mask, heavy gloves, and what appeared to be a smock. "Filthy filthy filthy," he muttered, placing an air purifier into the center of the room. He continued by dabbing some chemical onto a cloth and wiping down every surface of the boxes. "Filthy filthy filthy."
He was pretty preoccupied, so I managed to stealthily make my way over to the wall next to the door.
He continued to wipe for a long time – he actually wiped each box down three times, discarding used cloths into a trash bag he'd brought along and using a fresh one each time.
Eventually he went to the door inside and propped it open, which was all I needed.
When he went back to grab a box I slipped into the house.
The room I found myself in was actually a small entryway, with a heavy door in front of me and the garage behind me. It was small, so I couldn't really stay on the floor as the guy started to stack boxes in the room. But if I moved again, I'd make noise.
I controlled my breathing and bided my time.
The boxes were taking up most of the room before I got my chance to move. He dropped one of the boxes accidentally, and I leapt up to the ceiling to prop myself in the corner.
"Damnit damnit damnit!" he cried, his voice muffled by his mask.
I waited up there for a long time. He must have wiped down the box again, because it was ten minutes before he deposited it where I had previously been standing.
Eventually the entryway was almost full and John Bower retrieved his air purifier, closed the door to the garage, and moved to a keypad on the wall. I instantly focused all my attention on his fingers as they zipped around. Near as I could tell the sequence was 1-4-8-9.
Next he inched his way around the perimeter of the room to a second keypad and typed in 2-9-7-1. He then moved back to the first keypad and deactivated the garage security, then activated the house security, then repeated a third time.
He propped open the door into the house and started carrying things inside. I waited until the room was a bit emptier before lowering myself to the floor as quietly as I could. I had to carry my soggy shirt-full in my mouth.
I slipped into the house. Blankets hung over the windows, blotting out any light. Two light bulbs pierced that artificial darkness: one up a small flight of stairs, and one just inside the doorway.
When he got inside he took off his gloves and surgical mask before turning on the kitchen light. He dropped his cleaning supplies in the trash bag and then moved to the stove, where he turned on the hood fan and put the bag in a large metal pot. He proceeded to burn the bag and all of its contents.
So this guy was pretty nuts, I could tell already.
His house wasn't furnished, at least not downstairs. He had hardwood floors that looked to be immaculately clean, but no actual places to sit.
I stood there, basically invisible, for another hour as he unpacked and meticulously organized his haul of goodies. My package was in danger of dripping onto the floor, so I had to take off my undershirt and wrap that around the bundle – without making any noise, no less.
I wish I'd thought about the whole shoe issue, really.
He finished organizing, turned off the lights and moved upstairs, my following footsteps muffled by his own. When we reached the landing at the top, he turned to the first door on the left and went in. It was the bathroom, so I didn't feel it necessary to follow him.
There was actual decoration in the small upstairs area. I found myself in a small hallway with three doors, one on the right and two on the left. A crazy painting of a nighttime landscape hung on the wall at the end of the hallway, and what appeared to be two computer boxes flanked the stairs.
Suddenly I could hear the shower going in the bathroom, and I decided to take my chances and discard my little package. I tiptoed downstairs and searched for a suitable place to hide it, but of course there weren't any. Then I thought, hey, he won't need to go outside for another month, right?
I punched in the first code and entered the little room adjacent to the garage, where I punched in the second code and stepped out. The garage was just as clean, now, as the inside of the house. "Weirdo," I muttered to myself as I stashed my package and hurried back inside.
I reactivated the two security systems and, now shoeless and shirtless, made my way back upstairs just as the shower turned off. I waited.
Another couple of minutes passed, and my composure finally broke when I realized what I was doing.
I started laughing. I mean, the whole situation was completely insane. Here I was, wearing only a pair of pants, waiting for a paranoid wacko to get out of the shower so I could kill him?
It all seemed so… improbable.
I laughed, and laughed, and laughed, trying to remain as quiet as I could. I eventually started crying.
Improbable, but horribly bleak.
The guy came out of the bathroom, a robe on and his clothes folded neatly under one arm. He moved across the hall to another door, went in, and closed it. I was too busy trying to stay silent to follow.
I tried to get my emotions under control. I mean, even if the gods were playing some horrible joke on me, I still had to keep my cool. My life – and all of yours – depended on it.
The guy came out, dressed exactly as he had been before, but in clean clothes. He must have had two copies of the same outfit, or something. Then he moved to the third and final door in the hall, which had another keypad to the side. Finally composed enough to move, I sidled up next to him silently and waited. If he closed this door as quickly as he'd closed the other two, I only had a small window of opportunity to get inside.
He punched in 4-7-8-9 once, twice, thrice, and opened the door. As soon as I could see in the room my eyes widened. The whole thing was filled with computer equipment, monitors, I could hear fans running, there were lights blinking.
I got distracted long enough for him to close the door, leaving me outside.
The laughter came again. I clamped my mouth shut, determined not to break down a second time.
For several hours I waited there, alone and cold. I pondered my objective.
Mr. John Bower was... touched. You didn't have to be a brain surgeon to figure that out. I felt sorry for him, I really did. The Order had sent me to kill what amounted to an invalid. That's what it felt like; I was in the house to kill a man who could not get up out of bed.
Certainly not willing to kill someone like that, my mind started to turn ever so slowly. I couldn't avoid killing him, or you (he points to Akane) would die. Or maybe I could? What if I kidnapped him, moved him somewhere else, gave him a new life?
No, kidnapping was no good; he couldn't even go outside without freaking out. How could I thrust him into some completely different country?
Well, what if I reasoned with him? Yeah, like that would work. As soon as he found out I was there he would have called the police or something.
Maybe I had to kill him? No, no! Ranma Saotome – or Lim Nguyen or whoever I was that day – didn't ever kill defenseless opponents, ever. There had to be a way around it, so I sat and recalculated. Over and over and over.
The temperature had dropped in the house. I shivered.
I heard the door unlock, and it opened, releasing Mr. John Bower, frantic, wearing another surgeon's mask and holding a pistol. "I know you're here, Ranma Saotome!" he said shakily. "Leave or I-I-I'll kill you!"
Somehow, he'd found out. And my real name! I had to do some damage control. But you know me; I'm not the best speaker. "I am not here to hurt you," was all I could think to say.
He turned toward the sound of my voice. "Liar! Liar liar liar!"
I moved out of his gun's way and spoke again. "Look, really, I am not going to kill you. I want to help you."
He shifted his muzzle to cover me again; I moved again.
"How did you get in? My security system is invincible!" His knuckles were white on the gun's grip, his eyes ablaze with fear and madness.
"It does not matter. Please, put the gun away. Let us talk."
"No!" he screamed. "Get out or I'll shoot you!"
This was going nowhere fast, so I made a decision – a hasty decision, a bad decision, but a decision. I stepped close to him and grabbed the gun from his hands in one single, swift movement. My camouflage dropped and I stood before him, shirtless, holding the gun by its barrel and showing him my palms. "I just want to-" was all I got out before he jumped back, tripped over his own feet, and fell right downstairs.
A pit settled in my stomach as I hurried to the top of the stairway, where my fears were confirmed. He lay at the bottom, his neck at an impossible angle.
Without even wanting to, I'd managed to accomplish my mission.
(Ranma chuckles.)
I guess... Well I should have been able to catch him. I hesitated – why, I couldn't tell you. But I should have been able to catch him.
So. I still held his gun, and the deed had been done – like it or not, he was dead. My mind kind of shut down, went into survival mode.
The gun. I was holding the gun. It had my prints on it. Okay, find a towel, wipe it down. Clean, good. Had to look like an accident. Gun means it wasn't an accident. Put it back – but where? The room. I input his code and stepped in.
The computer room was much warmer, but I didn't have time to dawdle. Box? Compartment? Where did this gun go? So many lights... Ah! An open drawer!
All right, obviously the right drawer. Carefully place the gun back in the felt-lined box, close the lid... wait, did I turn on the safety? Open the lid, flip the safety on, close the lid again.
But would he have kept the safety on? He was paranoid, after all.
Think, think! No time! Got to get out of here!
I squashed down a feeling of panic and closed the drawer. Fuck the safety.
Wait, how did he know it was me? Seconds, precious seconds... The computer screens!
I turned to the... wall of illuminated boxes. Each of them displayed something different, but similar. It looked like he had eight or so different email services open, and they all had the same message displayed: 'A man is in your house. He is trying to kill you. His name is Ranma Saotome.'
How...?
No matter, ask Saya later. Delete, erase all sign of me. No more emails... All right, any other sign I was there? Footprints, no. Wait, footprints! Hardwood floors! Bare feet! Shit!
Towel, towel. Wipe the floor, careful, don't touch the floor with bare skin.
Door, 4-7-8-9, wipe the keypad. Open the door, close the door, wipe the handle. Wipe the floor. 4-7-8-9 with the towel.
Move downstairs, make sure to wipe the floor. Step over his body.
Wait.
Check his pulse...
His flesh was warm, soft. There was no pulse.
Wipe my hand, wipe my hand! Dead body!
Move, move, move. House code, garage code, wipe wipe wipe.
Back in the garage I stopped. What time was it? Night. Any other houses around? No, no, isolated. Good. Umi-Sen Ken, Bend the Light, Soul of Ice... Soul of Ice...
Deep breath, deep breath. No panic; calm. All the time in the world.
Soul of Ice. Open the garage door, grab my shirt-parcel, close the garage door from inside, duck under the door. Outside. Move slowly toward the tree line. Towel? For the best, had my skin and hair all over it. Put on my undershirt, shirt, shoes. Still wet. Cold outside. Alaska. Wrap the towel around me.
Look around. Ground still soft? Yes, damn. Footprints from earlier? Yes. SHIT.
No matter. Nothing to be done now. Retrace steps back to forest. One set in, no sets out. Best I can do.
Trees. Jump, jump, jump jump jump stop. Noises?
Silence.
Move!
Back to the gas station. Still night.
Wait.
Shiver.
I waited until morning, and let me tell you, in Alaska you shouldn't wear wet clothes at night. Summer, winter, doesn't matter. Even with my martial arts training I was shivering uncontrollably.
I... don't know if you're going to take this as a compliment or not, Akane, but that night all I could think about was you. The times I'd almost kissed you, or almost confessed my true feelings. There are quite a lot.
(Akane blushes and Ranma smiles.)
Remember after Sanzenin kissed me, and we were in the dojo? You were trying to be nice, and I was being a jerk, and we almost kissed?
(Nabiki coughs, Kasumi fidgets.)
Or what about that Valentine's day, after the mix-up with the bunny chocolate, and I got depressed because I didn't think you were going to give me anything after all?
(Takeshi coughs and shifts his legs under him.)
Or when my mom asked me to give you the pill box, but we thought it was an engagement ring? You said you were happy.
That memory has kept me going more than once.
(Tofu clears his throat meaningfully. Akane's head is bowed and her face is flushed.)
Right. Sorry.
The van showed up and I literally fell out of the tree. Saya hurried over and helped me into the van. I don't know if we managed to stay off of the security camera, but I didn't care at the time.
We started moving out as Saya attempted to get information. "Did it go well? What happened?"
"H-H-H-Heater..." I stuttered through chattering teeth.
The driver obliged and Saya started rubbing my back. "What happened? Is he dead?"
I ignored her, instead concentrating on the warmth starting to creep back into my body. As I continued to heat up, I got sleepier and sleepier. Saya's questions faded into the background, and I was gone.
When I woke back up we were both in my room at the hotel. I was in bed, a moist towel on my forehead, and Saya was sitting in a chair, watching television. "Wha...?"
Saya turned toward me. "Ah, you are awake. Good."
The television clicked off and I sat up, letting the towel fall to my lap. "How long have I been out?"
"Not long; just a few hours. But you have a fever, so I thought it prudent to make sure you were warm." No affection in her tone; just business. "So how did the mission go?"
The mission. "I'm thirsty. Is there any water around here?"
"No, just the liquor you brought. How. Did. The mission. Go?"
I rolled across the bed and reached into my small suitcase. The liquor was the only thing left in there. "Liquor would probably be better, anyway." I snorted mirthlessly.
"Ranma." I paid no attention to Saya as I opened the bottle and took a long pull.
My mind must not have been working at a hundred percent yet, because – even as unseasoned in alcohol as I was – I should have known better than to take a swig of Scotch.
As soon as I'd forced the liquid down my throat I started coughing. It... well, now I love it, but back then not as much. If you've never tried Scotch, it... it's an acquired taste.
"Ranma!" Saya grabbed the bottle from my hands. "The mission."
"He's dead. He fell down the stairs." I took my bottle back and pushed another mouthful down.
"Good." She nodded. "Any complications? Will they know another person was there?"
Two swallows was my limit. I corked the bottle and dropped it to the side of my bed. "Footprints going from the woods to his house. Couldn't be avoided. Otherwise, no." Saya was silent. "Whatever. This... this whole thing makes me feel dirty. If you want me to apologize for footprints you can go to hell."
"No, no, it should be fine. Rest, Ranma."
"How did he know I was there?"
The look on Saya's face can best be described as 'panic.' "He knew you were there?"
"Yeah. Someone emailed him and even told him my real name." The taste of Scotch was overpowering still, and I coughed.
Saya's face resumed neutrality. "I will inquire. Sleep, Ranma."
She got up to leave. "Wait." With so much going on, with all the things I'd seen, I had to know if she bought into it – the whole Order thing. "Doesn't this bother you? Even a little?"
"What?" she asked innocently; I found myself chuckling.
"Killing people. Training armies of religious zealots. Doesn't this bother you?"
The thirteen year-old girl pondered my question for a moment before responding, "Should it?"
And I had my answer. "Yes." I flopped back down onto my pillow as the alcohol started to make its presence known. "Yes it should."
I threw up later, but not because of the alcohol. I couldn't get the feeling of Mr. Bower's skin out of my head.
When I got done rinsing my mouth I felt another presence in the room and hit the lights.
Mohammed sat on my bed. His ebony skin reflected the light in odd ways. "Hello, Ranma Saotome.
I was female at the time, but knew I could take him. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing. You were supposed to die in that house."
"So it was you who told him!"
Mohammed smirked, then. "Yes, and I'm surprised at your surprise." The small smile vanished. "I am here to tell you, Ranma Saotome, that I am going to do everything in my power to get you killed. You do not belong in the Order, and the esteem in which Hoa Mới holds you is unearned." Jumping to his feet he pointed one black finger at me. "The Order is better off without you. I am going to make that a reality."
I dropped my fists. "Look, I don't want to be in your damn Order anyway. If you want to kick me out, do it."
"Hoa Mới would not allow that, nor would any other member of the Order. You are in the Order for life. You know that." He pushed past me, toward the door. "Watch your back."
"Fuck you."
"You wish, transvestite." I whirled around just in time to see the door close.
In the morning Saya knocked on my door. "Good morning, Ranma. It is time to depart."
"Huh? Where we goin'?" Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes I invited her in.
"Our next assignment. Hoa Mới sent me a letter." She sniffed the air. "Did you get sick last night?"
"Yes, and no, not from the alcohol. By the way, Mohammed was the one who told Mr. Bower about me. He was here last night, to taunt me." Stretching my legs and arms felt fantastic. I continued to shake the sleep out of my body while Saya pondered this turn of events.
"I will speak with Hoa Mới."
It seemed to me that Saya wasn't hearing the same information I was. But whatever. Saya was a member of the Order, after all.
I still felt a bit under the weather and decided to shower. "Look, when do we leave?"
"Tonight. Our plane leaves at 5:00." Sitting on the bed, she crossed her legs. When she wanted to, Saya could carry herself like a much older woman.
"Then why are we leaving now?" My shirt hit the floor.
"I was told to be at the airport by 11:00, so I will be there by 11:00."
I walked into the bathroom before I let my pants drop to the white tile floor. "Fine. Let me shower."
I took a long, steamy time in the bathtub-turned-shower. They don't soak over in the U.S., not like we do. I missed it. Modern facilities, but no soaking tub.
When I'd finished brushing my teeth I wrapped a towel around myself and went to get dressed. Saya was still there.
I blushed and grabbed some clothes quickly. "Why are you still here?"
"I'm waiting for you, Ranma." I saw her eyes drop to the towel, and back up to my face. "And I thought I'd enjoy the show."
"Holy...! Are you thirteen or thirty?!" I closed the door to the bathroom behind me, started dressing.
I moved back into the hotel room proper and started packing. Saya's eyes followed my every move, making me very uncomfortable. "Um... do you need something, Saya?"
"A kiss."
I almost dropped my bottle of Scotch. "Wh-what?"
"A kiss. I like you, Ranma." She looked up at me from the bed, smiling. I noticed, then, that she resembled Nabiki. Her hair was longer, but she looked like a younger you. (A nod to the middle Tendo sister.)
"Look," I said, edging backwards, "I'm, uh, flattered, but you're thirteen! You're still a kid! I mean, come on, three months ago you liked Dmitri!"
Her smile disappeared, then, and she stood. "I know what I like, Ranma Saotome. Do not treat me like a child."
"But you ARE a child!" Her punch came swiftly and knocked me flat.
"Bastard." She stepped over me and out of the room.
From the floor, I shook my head. "One minute she's Nabiki, the next she's Akane. What did I do to deserve this?"
Ranma held up her hands defensively as the temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees. "Whoa, look, that's not what I meant!"
"Oh, really?" Nabiki's face was blank, dangerous.
"Yes, Ranma, what did you mean, then?" Akane's smile cut at Ranma, sharp like a knife.
"Look, really, I meant that she was manipulative like Nabiki and she had a short temper like Akane!"
Nabiki relaxed. "Oh. Okay then."
Akane, however, continued to seethe. "Well maybe if you weren't such a jerk I wouldn't have had such a short temper!"
Ranma scooted away from the table unconsciously. "Yes, fine, you're right! I'm sorry!"
That seemed to placate her a bit, and she backed down with a nod. "Darn right you're sorry."
The whole room sighed with relief, the situation diffused.
"Okay. Back to the story."
I'll skip the connecting flights again.
The plane into Beijing reeked of body odor and disinfectant; my seat was lumpy and uncomfortable; Saya still wasn't speaking to me; and there was a void in my chest that I just couldn't seem to fill.
And then there was the mission.
I was supposed to join the Chinese Army. As a woman.
The false birth certificate and passport and other documents held up under the rigorous eye of the Communist government, and I was in.
Saya had been set up with a factory job and a small hovel – it was supposed to be an apartment, but the thing was about as big as your laundry room – and she was to be my main contact. Under the premise of writing to my 'little sister,' I was to utilize a code in order to inform Saya of military procedures, troop movements, and stuff like that.
I didn't know it at the time, but my "work" over there would cause a lot of pain and suffering throughout the years to come.
(Ranma falls silent.)
No, there's not much to say about that two years of my life.
Two years...!
Okay, here's the run down:
Military training was a breeze, and I earned accolades early on. They wanted to promote me a couple of times, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself so I refused.
Exercises, training, peacekeeping, policing... peacetime stuff. Nothing else to do.
I did my job and wrote everything I knew – everything, from the designations for different battalions to what we were served for lunch – in that code and sent it off to Saya.
(Ranma runs her hands over her face.) Shit, two years! I still can't believe I spent that long in that... that hell-hole. Two years of cold showers. Two years being a woman. Two years of being harassed, ridiculed, ostracized...
(Suddenly Ranma lashes out and punches a hole clean through the table in front of her.)
Kasumi jumped and let out a small yelp of surprise. "Ranma!"
But Ranma had already withdrawn her hand and started to apologize. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I just... have a lot of bad memories from those days."
Dr. Tofu smiled gently. "It's okay, Ranma, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
Shin, however, had a different idea. "No, I want to hear what happened." Nabiki nodded in agreement.
"I don't think that's necessary..." Akane trailed off as she caught sight of Ranma. The air above the small redhead had started to waver from her battle aura.
Shin, for his part, knew when to back down. "Fine, sorry."
Nabiki, though, thought Ranma was still a push-over. "No, no, Ranma, you 'came here to explain, and it wouldn't be much of an explanation if you left out the important details,' right?"
"Nabiki," whispered Ranma into the woman's ear. She had moved so quickly she may as well have teleported. "I have a present for you." And Ranma's hands, glowing a strange blue, darted to Nabiki's temples.
Nabiki found herself in a tiny, filthy room with water stains on the walls and no windows. A young girl stood in front of her, and the girl looked a lot like Nabiki had when she was younger.
"Your Chinese is not good enough, that's why. You must take one of these every morning and every night. They will relax your vocal cords so even if you try, you can't talk." The girl held out a small bag about the size of a change purse, and Nabiki saw her hand reach out and take it.
"How will I get more?" she heard herself say. She took a pill out of the purse and rolled it around in her hand.
What the hell was going on?
"I will send them to you in letters. They will be disguised as candy."
"Fine." Nabiki's vision swam, and resolved into an obstacle course. She was standing at the finish line, watching the other men and women struggle to make it through. Nabiki tried to say something, anything, but she couldn't control her body. Someone else was in charge.
"Xiu Lan!" Nabiki's head whipped around and she saw a man in a military uniform approaching her, a frown on his face. "Why are you done already? If even one person from your squad fails, everyone fails!" He was speaking in Chinese, but for some reason Nabiki could understand him perfectly.
Suddenly, the man struck her across the face with his hand. Nabiki stood there silently. "Go back to the beginning, and if you finish before anyone else again I'll personally make sure that you wash out, understood?" Nabiki's head nodded once and she started jogging back to the beginning of the course.
Her vision swam again, and she suddenly saw a naked redhead in the mirror. Ranma was covered in bruises. Nabiki's hand moved up to her face, and the Ranma in the mirror moved her hand as well.
Holy hell! Nabiki knew why she couldn't control herself; she was in Ranma's memories!
A group of women passed behind Ranma, toward the showers, and one of them laughed. "That's what you get for showing off."
Nabiki punched the mirror, and as it shattered, her vision shattered with it.
Blood, from between her legs. Fear. What was going on? Her stomach hurt so very badly. Nabiki thought the word 'tampon' as hard as she could, but her body just crammed a sock into a pair of panties and got dressed.
"Excellent work, Xiu Lan!" A female officer was smiling at Nabiki through the driving rain. "You're on your way to a promotion if you keep this up! But how did you know that the other team was lying in ambush?" Nabiki found her shoulders shrugging. "No matter. All right, everyone," the officer yelled, "back to the barracks!"
As Nabiki turned to leave she caught the glares from everyone else – her team included.
Suddenly in a communal shower room, she felt the pounding, frigid water on the back of her head.
Then there was a great gathering in front of her. "Welcome to the Army!" cried a man on a podium, and the whole assembly cheered. Except for Nabiki.
Everything went dark. Nabiki's eyes slowly opened and she found herself staring at a group of six people. "Time to pay for your arrogance, Xiu Lan."
The attack was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Nabiki smirked to herself as she settled back down to sleep, the six would-be assailants unconscious on the ground.
Then the six of them were in front of her again, this time with an officer. "For attacking these six soldiers you will be given six lashes."
The whip bit into Nabiki's flesh and she would have screamed if she'd been able.
'It has only been one year,' read the letter in Nabiki's hands, 'and I am becoming restless, my sister. I work seventeen hours a day. The landlord is terrible to me. None of the other workers will even speak to me. Also, I fear I am growing quite sick. I wonder what our mother would think of this.' It was not signed.
Nabiki crushed the letter in her hands before burning it and walking back to her room.
An officer smiled at her over a desk. "I am glad to see you have an interest in the People's Armed Police. You will fit in well here." His smile morphed into the grimace of an old man, chained to the inside of a steel cargo vessel.
"Another human trafficking ring." Nabiki's squad leader scratched his forehead and sighed deeply. "Well, we've done all we can. Time to let the lawyers deal with this guy." He nodded his head toward an older man, wearing an expensive business suit and standing quietly, hands cuffed behind his back, an unreadable expression on his face.
The businessman's smile peered out from the newspaper. 'Local Businessman Cleared of Charges' read the headline. "It's out of our hands, Xiu Lan. He knows the right people." Nabiki felt a hand on her shoulder. "Best to let this one go."
Another letter flashed before Nabiki's eyes. 'Seven months, my sister, and I will be able to see you again. My fondest regards.' Pills spilled out of the envelope. Nabiki grabbed one, grit her teeth and popped it into her mouth.
She swallowed. 'Good beer!' she thought. The bar was packed, noisy, conversations assaulting her ears from every direction. Smoke filled the air.
"Drink up!" A squad mate handed her a bottle and she downed it in one pull.
Her vision was getting slower, her movements fuzzier. Nabiki's squad leader smiled over his own beer. She could see a couple of her other squad mates laughing over the squad leader's shoulder.
Pointing to the empty bottle, she tried to shrug her shoulders, convey a message with her arms. 'What's it called?' Nabiki's vision wasn't up to the task of reading Chinese at the moment.
"It's called Ketamine." Nabiki knew, she knew what they were planning. But Nabiki's body just smiled. "Have another."
The lights began to spin, slowly at first, then more quickly. The air pulsated, as if it were breathing itself in, exhaling matter in the form of tiny pins which pricked her arms and legs gently. Nabiki found herself giggling. Arms grabbed her, helped her up. They were walking.
The night sky pulsated, undulated, danced back and forth through the clouds. Words lost their meaning, echoing in her head over and over until they were reduced to unintelligible noise. The world was muffled; everything came slowly, passed too quickly. She stumbled. Hands caught her, pulled her forward.
A room, suddenly. Nabiki laughed. Someone took off her shirt, her pants. Light disappeared.
Things came in that darkness.
Silence.
Akane's face, there then gone.
Waking up, Nabiki found herself sore. She brought a hand up to rub her forehead as she looked about. A strange hotel room, deserted but for her. How had she gotten there? she wondered involuntarily.
Her abdomen throbbed suddenly, and Nabiki looked down. She was bruised, ravaged, naked and on top of the covers. The insides of her legs were sticky. There was blood on the bed.
Nabiki's tears came unbidden, she raced to the bathroom. Vomit splashed all over the floor, but more came soon enough, into the toilet, until nothing was left but bile.
She saw her squad leader's face, then, in the toilet. It smiled a friendly smile. "Do you want to come out with some of the boys and me, to get a drink? We know a great place."
"I did not rape her, no, Sir." The squad leader's face hardened as Nabiki's eyes caught his. "There is no way...
"...that they are going to let him off!" cried a woman in the room, staring at the television. Ranma sipped her whiskey from the bar quietly, pulled her hood further onto her head. Four weeks, and the bastard was free.
The television showed the man, smiling for the cameras, expounding on how the woman in question was a tease, a whore, jealous that she couldn't get promoted.
That smug look faded as the light left his eyes. Nabiki removed the knife from his throat, wiped it clean on his rank insignia.
"It is a sad thing," said the officer in front of her, "that this man died. Many people liked him, people much higher up than myself." Nabiki coughed, suddenly nauseous, but resisted the urge to vomit. "And if you had no alibi, Xiu Lan, you would be among the chief suspects." Nabiki found herself suppressing the urge to smile.
"You are pregnant." Her head shook no, but the doctor nodded. "Yes. I will have to speak with your supervisors. You should not be out in the field." Nabiki vomited again.
"You will be at a desk for the remainder of your enlistment." A captain gestured toward a small desk, one among hundreds in the room. All were occupied by women. "Shu will instruct you in your duties."
Nabiki's stomach had started to distend. She looked at her nude reflection in the mirror, found her fists clenching of their own accord.
"Xiu Lan. Type this and send it to the law office." The paper she held was a hand-written pardon, apparently for a man accused of rape.
"It was good to have you in the service, Xiu Lan." The captain bowed formally. "Best of luck in the future." As she left the office, her large belly bulging out of the outfit she'd worn to sign up, she felt the child inside of her kick. Hate welled up, threatening to overflow.
So much hate.
In an instant it was done, and Ranma stepped back. "Nabiki, you tell the stories. I want to go to the bathroom." She stalked out of the room, stomping but making nary a noise.
Nabiki, however, had tears streaming down her face as she breathed deeply, trying to shake off the memories. "No," she started to whisper to herself, scrubbing at her eyes. "No, no, no..."
"Ranma, what did you do?!" Akane's scream cut through the still night air.
"Akane." The soft voice – the timid voice – came from Nabiki. Shin put his arm around the woman protectively, and she gripped his hand appreciatively. "I'm fine."
"But what happened?" asked Kasumi, her eyes full of concern.
"I'll tell you, but you have to give me a minute to recover."
The bathroom was just as Ranma remembered it. She washed her hands, cupped them under the hot water, splashed it over her face. Red hair fell into the sink; muscles grew, chest shrank.
Ranma looked at himself in the mirror for a long minute, noting his strong chin, his eyes, his bald head.
The hair in the sink was wet, sticky. It made a soft thump as it hit the trash can, and he went to wash his hands again.
Deep breaths. Deep, shuddering breaths.
The hallway was the same, too. How many times had Ranma thought of these hallways with longing in his heart?
Too many.
Voices from the other room. Shocked surprise. Indignation. Sympathy.
He didn't need their sympathy.
Stepping into the light of the dining room, Ranma noticed all eyes turn to him.
Silence.
"All done? Or should I pick up from where Nabiki left off?"
Akane's face buried itself in Takeshi's chest. Kasumi was as pale as a ghost, but her eyes shimmered with compassion. Nabiki refused to look. "No. You should continue your story." Her voice held none of its usual contempt.
As he took his place at the table, Shin seemed to be searching his mind for something. He almost spoke several times, but thought better of it. "Is there something you want to ask, Shin?" Ranma's face was stone.
Another aborted attempt at speech, before, "Well, was it a boy or a girl?"
Ranma waved off Dr. Tofu's good-intentioned intervention. "No, Dr. Tofu, it's all right." Addressing Shin, "It was a little girl, Shin, and I named her Akane." His face softened, his eyes brightened. "She was as beautiful as her namesake."
"Was?" blurted Shin before he caught himself. "Sorry, sorry, that was insensitive, I know. Sorry."
He stared at the table, a small smile on his face, lost in thought. "Yes, was. She died soon after she was born. Problems with her heart. Congenital defect." Ranma absently scratched his nose. "The first time I held her, though – the only time I held her – I could have done anything in the world. I would have, too, to protect her." The light in Ranma's eyes dulled. "But I only got three days with her before she died."
"You hated the child." Nabiki's sentence cut through the air, pierced Ranma's heart. "I felt it. I felt your hate, Ranma."
"No." His head shook vehemently. "At first, before she was born, yes. She was an unwelcome intruder, an affront to my manhood. But when she was born, and I got to hold her, look into her eyes... before they took her away, for tests and surgeries..." Dr. Tofu grimaced. "No, Nabiki, I loved her. I loved her more than I have loved anyone in more than ten years."
Akane started to bawl then, as sudden and intense as a volcanic eruption. Kasumi wiped a tear from her face as well.
Someone knocked at the front door; Kasumi stood, left to answer it, and returned a few moments later. Ryoga rounded the corner, still in his police uniform. "Hello. Sorry to bother you so late, but I wanted to hear Ranma's story, too." He squeezed himself in next to Akane, noticed that she was crying softly. "What happened?" A stern glare spitted Ranma. "Ranma, did you do something?!"
"No. For once, I didn't. It's nice to see you again, Ryoga. Sorry about earlier." A smile.
Akane continued to shudder with sobs. Ryoga grew visibly angrier with every sound. "What. Did. You. Do?"
The Doctor's voice was soft but firm. "Ryoga, Ranma didn't do anything. He was just telling us what happened to him after he disappeared."
Ryoga deflated. "Oh. Sorry. But then why is Akane crying?"
"Ranma just told us something very sad." Takeshi went back to comforting his wife.
"Oh? What?"
Ranma's words were filled with love and sadness. "I had a daughter, and she died." He sighed. "But enough of that. I'm just about to get to the part where I saw you, Ryoga. Remember?"
All eyes turned to Ryoga, who shrunk back. "Uh... yeah, I do."
POSTSCRIPT:I lose at life. Fixed a terrible, terrible error that comes from a.) not having a proofreader, and b.) being a moron. There might be some more in there, but I don't have time right now to go through again, so please, bear with me while I go back through this chapter with a fine-toothed comb. If I find too many things wrong with it, or I just plain don't like it anymore, you might find it removed temporarily.
Sorry for being a tool.