Author's Note: I'm sorry about that cliffhanger from last chapter. I didn't mean to do it but I passed out on the keyboard, so I decided to leave it at that. And though it's a little late, I would also like to take this moment to express my sorrow over the victims of the World Trade Center tragedy. May they rest in peace.
Cologne watched from the roof as the fight degenerated from a formal duel to a bitter struggle for survival. At first it seemed Ranma might actually win, gods bless the boy, but Mousse proved to be too much for him. Now Mousse was holding a gun to her son-in-law's head, ready to end it all with one squeeze of the trigger. She looked down at Shampoo.
"Are you ready?"
The cat mewed an affirmative.
"Then go."
The hammer pulled back on the gun with an ominous click, and for the first time Mousse saw real fear in Ranma's eyes. He grinned coldly and wondered how much fear it would take her to die from a heart attack.
Then something small and lavender dropped from above and onto Ranma's head. It took Ranma, still bleary with pain, a moment to register what happened. But when he did, the change was immediate. If Mousse thought he saw fear in Ranma's eyes before, what he saw now was absolute terror. Ranma screamed and flailed her limbs with surprising strength, the gun aimed at her head forgotten. Mousse stepped back in surprise as her body contorted in ways that made him ache by simply watching.
Mousse, after watching this for close to a minute, decided he had had enough and yanked the thing off her head. He stared flatly at what he held in his hand. It was a small, pretty cat with an exotically colored coat of pale violet. It seemed to be looking at him with an almost human expression of fright.
He looked back at Ranma, who was pressed tightly to the wall trying to keep as much distance from the cat and herself as possible, her eyes rolling with fear.
You've got to be kidding me, Mousse thought disgustedly. He was about to toss the cat aside when he paused thoughtfully and his lips peeled back in an evil grin. Unfortunately for Ranma, it was at this time that Mousse's vicious streak decided to assert itself.
"You don't like cats, do you Ranma?" he purred, dangling the cat in front of her face. Ranma didn't answer but kept her eyes locked on the cat. "What's wrong? Don't you want to play with the kitty?"
Mousse shoved the cat in Ranma's face.
"Play with the kitty Ranma!" He screamed maniacally. "Come on Ranma, play with the kitty!"
Ranma's scream seemed endless. Even after it trailed off into nothingness as her voice gave out, her face was still petrified in the same expression.
Suddenly, whatever dark, powerful presence it was that Mousse felt earlier in Ranma, surged to the surface. Mousse reeled back, almost overwhelmed by the sheer force by which it arose.
He stopped a dozen feet away and waited. His rational side railed at him to end it, use the gun, to kill her before whatever it was he felt in her comes to bear. But it was just an annoying buzz in his ear compared to the dark, almost suicidal part of him that watched with equal parts curiosity and anticipation. He was distantly aware that this sudden macabre need to see what sort of hidden power Ranma possessed after all she put him through was quite insane.
He didn't have to wait long. Ranma slumped forward and dropped to her hands and knees. Mousse thought disappointedly for a moment that she had passed out, before he heard something strange. Almost like a low growling…
Mousse barely had time to dodge when Ranma lunged forward, one clawed hand swiping at him, shredding through a flap of cloth of what remained of his coat. He whirled to face her and couldn't quite believe what he saw. Ranma was on all fours, mouth curled back into a feral snarl. Any sign that she was suffering from the wounds he gave her was completely gone. Her back arched and she hissed at him, a sound that made the hackles on the back of his neck rise. But what disturbed him most was the complete lack of humanity in her eyes. Ranma was gone. He was now looking into the eyes of a cornered beast.
He raised the gun to his hip and fired three times. Ranma dodged, flitting between the bullets and closing the distance between them with incredible speed. Again she swiped at him, yowling in a disturbingly feline way, while he barely managed to keep out of the way. He fired again and ran, cursing himself for a fool. He could feel her behind him, just an arm's length away, breaths coming in harsh rasps, focused on her running prey. He whirled and let himself fall on his back, gun raised. No one was there.
He got up into a crouch and dove into an alley. He pressed his back against the wall and waited. The only sound he could hear was his own heavy breathing and the blood thundering in his head. He counted out ten seconds and ran out of the alley the way he came, sweeping his gaze around him. The only warning he received was the growing shadow forming beneath him. He whirled, looking up at a black figure that fell toward him with the sun behind it. He squinted and instinctively brought his hand up to shade his eyes from the light. The figure hurtled into him before he could shoot, knocking the air out of him and driving him into the ground.
Mousse gasped and scrambled to his feet. Ranma was crouched before him ten feet away on all fours, staring at him intently. He was sure if she had a tail, it would be quivering in anticipation. He cursed to himself softly when he realized he dropped his gun when she tackled him. He stayed perfectly still while glancing from side to side, searching for it. The gun was two feet from where he stood. He glanced back at Ranma. She looked more relaxed now, but was still staring at him. She opened her mouth in a lazy yawn, exposing her teeth. He took a slow step closer to the gun, keeping his eyes on her. Her whole body tensed and she emitted a low growl. He froze. She relaxed and sat on her haunches. She delicately licked the back of one hand and ran it through her hair, preening herself while keeping her eyes focused on him. He cursed again. She was toying with him.
He glanced over at the gun again. It was so close he could actually read the inscription on the handle, Beretta. He took a step and slid himself closer to it. Ranma immediately sprang to her feet and pounced. Mousse dove for the gun. He grabbed it, turned over on his back and fired.
Akane ran faster than she ever had in her life and even then she couldn't keep up with the two fighters. Ranma was stronger than she realized. She had heard stories of how powerful he was when he fought the Phoenix King Saffron but it still came as a shock to see it in real life. It was an even greater shock to see that the foreigner, Mousse, was even stronger. Even after Ranma threw everything he had against Mousse, he still seemed to do little more than make him angry. Even with the help of Ukyo and Cologne he couldn't beat him. Mousse wasn't unscathed, he was definitely hurt by the looks of him if a sudden loss of body weight and change in skin and hair color were any indication, but Ranma was in worse shape. It came to be a battle of attrition and Mousse was simply too much for him. But now things were looking up in a way. Shampoo forced Ranma to use the Nekoken and Mousse unwittingly helped her. He was on the run now with Ranma right behind him, literally screaming bloody murder.
The loud crack of a gun firing brought her and the few others who could keep up to a halt. A cold fear settled in her stomach as she imagined the bullet ripping through Ranma's body. She forced the thought out of her mind and tried to run faster.
She stopped around the place where she thought she heard the shot. It was eerily silent, and the only sound she heard was the heavy breathing of the others. For a desperate moment she thought she had run in the wrong direction, when Mousse came crashing through a nearby wall.
He lay unmoving halfway through the hole, face down in the rubble. Akane thought, and was disgusted that some part of her actually hoped, that he might be dead. That thought was soon dispelled when he stirred, groaning as he lifted himself up and began crawling out of the hole. Just as he had gotten all of his body on the other side of the wall, a pair of clawed hands shot out from the hole and gripped him around one of his ankles. He cried out in surprise as the hands jerked back, pulling his legs out from under him and sending him face first into the pavement. The hands disappeared back into the hole dragging him along with them. Mousse roared in defiance, and slammed his hands onto the pavement, burying his fingers up to the first joint. However, he only succeeded in leaving finger-sized runnels in the concrete as he was dragged inexorably back into the hole. Akane could only watch the events unfolding before her with mounting horror, as Mousse cried out again, this time in pain, losing his grip. He disappeared into the hole and she heard him scream again, louder, followed by gunshots and cat-like yowls that could only belong to Ranma.
Akane was amazed that a small part of her simply would not accept what was happening and insisted that what she was seeing was still a duel, with rules and etiquette. But she knew that this had crossed the boundaries of any duel she had ever seen long ago. This was the true face of 'anything goes.' And she knew unless someone stopped it, the end result of such a fight could only be death.
While Mousse was on his back, struggling to hold back a clawing, biting, spitting Ranma, the insanely calm part of his mind wondered if this was how Lu and Chao felt when they accidentally fell into the tiger pit he dug. He wasn't the least bit surprised by this train of thought or the memory of his first victims. The cold machine-logic that always fell over his mind in times of stress had kept him alive for as long as he could remember, and he felt it often enough that it never really came as a shock anymore.
Mousse was brought back to reality by a sharp pain below his right eye as Ranma wrested an arm away from his grip and got in a good swipe with a clawed hand. He hissed in pain and swung his freed hand in a hook, catching her in the side of the head. Mousse took advantage of her momentary disorientation and set his feet against her stomach and pushed, sending her sailing over the wall and into the street. He got up quickly, not wanting to waste time, and wiped the spittle from his face while searching for his gun. He found it jutting out from under a slab of rubble, a little scratched but still serviceable. He had fired four shots at her so far, which was three shots too many. It was now truly time to end it all.
His body ached and weariness hung heavy on him but he ignored its cries to stop and ran out of the hole, gun held at ready. Some of the crowd was still there, those that could keep up anyway, and so was Mori in the limo, but no Amazons and no Ranma. He swept his gaze across the street and up along the rooftops. He didn't realize he was looking in the totally wrong direction until Ranma was upon him.
Mousse didn't get a warning this time, so he was caught completely off guard when Ranma jumped from her perch on the wall and wrapped her legs around his arms, immobilizing them. She dug one clawed hand into his shoulder and used the other to push his head to the side, exposing his neck. She then bit into his jugular.
Mousse screamed in real pain and began thrashing wildly to force her off. But she only tightened her grip with her arms and legs and bit harder. He could feel her teeth burying deeper into his skin and his neck begin giving way under the pressure her hand put on his head in keeping it to the side. He would have shot his foot off with the pistol in his thrashings if it hadn't dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers. The machine part of his mind absently and unconcernedly reminded him that this was how large cats killed their prey, by breaking their necks while keeping a firm grip on them with their teeth. Mousse finally understood what Lu and Chao went through when the tiger killed them.
Mousse instinctively lashed out with what was left of his chi, which exploded in the form of a blinding flash of silver light. It wasn't cohesive, however, and didn't have any physical effect besides managing to stun Ranma. She hissed in surprise and leapt off him. He fell forward soundlessly.
He could feel her prowling restlessly behind him, debating whether or not to finish him off. In a daze, he realized that was searching frantically for a weapon, any weapon, but his slipping consciousness wouldn't allow him to focus on one. His mind search grew more panicked as every weapon he attempted to summon up slipped away before he could get a grasp on it. He could almost see her, crouched on all fours…
(a weapon)
her tongue running over a fang…
(any weapon)
eyes glittering in anticipation…
(now dammit)
muscles tensed…
(NOW)
Mousse swung the sledgehammer as Ranma pounced. He swung blindly, putting all the force he could muster behind it, half expecting to miss, and was greeted by a crunching sound as the metal head of the hammer impacted into her side. She was caught in mid-pounce and was sent flying off to the side.
Mousse lay on his back, exhausted in mind and body, and stared at the blue spring sky. The rubble-strewn pavement felt more comfortable at that moment than any bed, and he almost let unconsciousness take him, when he remembered what needed to be done. There was a killing to do.
He pushed himself up with support from the hammer and limped his way over to where Ranma lay. The only sound was a soft grinding as the heavy metal head of the hammer was dragged across the pavement. The going was slow, and the hammer caught several times on particularly large hunks of rubble, but Mousse wasn't in a hurry. Ranma wasn't going anywhere.
Ranma lay on her side facing him, her body almost convulsing with short, abrupt heaves of breath. She rolled her eyes up at him and attempted to snarl. Mousse knew he broke most of her ribs with that last swing. Some may have splintered off and punctured her lung, or maybe he crushed that as well. It wouldn't take much encouragement on his part to finally end her life.
He lifted his good leg and planted his foot on the side of her face. She snarled and attempted feebly to claw at his leg. He snarled back and ground his foot in. He lifted the hammer high, fully intent on smashing her brains out her nose, when a pair of strong hands grabbed his wrists. He whirled as best he could on his wounded leg, twisting out of grip with the hammer still raised, ready to kill whoever it was that was stopping him. What he saw almost made him drop it. Akane was in front of him, tears coursing down her face.
"Please don't hurt him anymore," she begged. "I'll go with you, just stop hurting him, please."
Mousse lowered the hammer. The crying girl triggered something inside him. He had the feeling like he was awakening from a dream.
"You're not the one I want," he replied dazedly.
"I'll go with you, just please stop hurting him, please!" She begged again and broke down in sobs, holding her face in her hands.
Mousse's tenuous hold on consciousness was beginning to slip. He suddenly felt very, very tired. Through the fog that was beginning to enshroud his mind, one thought forced itself into clarity.
How sad Nodoka will be…when she finds that you took away her son…
He jumped as if goosed. He looked down at Ranma, who was now unconscious, and then back at Akane.
"Alright," he said. "Stop crying."
He waited until her sobs died down to sniffles before beckoning. "Come closer."
She stepped forward tentatively. He snaked a hand around her neck and pressed a nerve. She fell forward into his arms, unconscious. He carried her in his arms and swayed under he weight. He knew she was by no means heavy, but to him now she weighed a ton. He walked over to the limo where Mori met him halfway.
"Sir?" Mori swallowed when Mousse turned his eyes toward him. "Perhaps we should take you to a doctor?"
"You didn't tell me about Ranma," Mousse replied.
Mori stiffened. "Sir, I…"
"Nevermind. Just take me back to my room. You can at least do that much right, can't you?"
Mori lowered his head. "Yes, sir."
Mori opened the door and Mousse gently laid Akane in the backseat. He took one last look back. Much of the crowd was surrounding Ranma, attempting to give him medical attention without hurting him too much. Ucchan stood glaring at him, with a white-knuckled grip on her huge spatula. He could tell she wanted to fight him, but fear held her back. He shook his head at her. Not today.
He climbed in the backseat and closed the door.
"Drive."
Mousse adjusted Akane's position until she was as comfortable as possible. She would be out for a good two hours. Perhaps she will have some of the answers he needed. As he stared at her, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that she was somehow familiar. He shrugged. It was unimportant now. The limousine's engine rumbled a soothing lullaby to him, and he was determined to enjoy it during the short trip back. He settled back in his seat and passed out.
Nobody noticed when the exotically colored cat leapt into the backseat of the limo while Mousse silently faced off with Ukyo. It now lay under the seat, staring at the back of Mousse's legs. He wasn't the only one looking for answers.
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