Away to Neverland

xxx

Agent Scarlet, analysis has determined that your pursuit of individual S may lead you into direct confrontation with the Institute for the Advancement of Humanity. Despite their ostentatious nomiker, they are not allies to the Organization of Humanities Defence. Their methods are distasteful to the extreme, and their goals only barely palatable when phrased in the proper manner. They are, as we, technically backed by Authority, however they are primarily the tools of a foreign power, and every Emperor since the one which was forced to allow the concession of their presence upon our soil has regretted the action, and sought some means and reason to be rid of them. Sadly, while the means are not lacking, there has never been a reason that could be explained away to the suspicious common man. The institute is uncommonly good at keeping itself properly 'in line', and have wormed their festering grip so deeply into our country that none of the excuses that could be given to excise their tumor could be given without also revealing both their and our true purposes. It would be bedlam in the streets.

The majority of humanity has safely forgotten that the things which went bump in their forefather's nights still eagerly prowl them now. They must not, above all, be reminded of this fact, save on an individual basis where no other recourse is available. This is because they would all react differently. Some would doubtless be more than happy to remain as normal, desperately trying to convince themselves that it was all a hoax. This is the best case scenario. Some would see things from our point of view, and strike out as vigilantes. On a small scale, this is not neccessarily a bad thing. On a larger one... there are simply not enough truly evil beings to go around, if a casual estimation of a third of the country took it in their heads to oppose them, untrained, unmonitored, and with no restraints upon their actions. Supernatural beings would suddenly be pouring out of the woodworks to defend themselves and their kind. It would most certainly lead to an all-out war, the scope of which could potentially cause the destruction of our entire nation. And finally, some could well decide that the Institute had the right of things after all, and secretly do what they could to follow in their lead.

Do not initiate contact with the Institute. If at all possible, avoid any contact whatsoever.

As standard procedure, we have pulled and enclosed the dossier of individual S. A fascinating person leading a fascinating existence. In many respects, exactly the sort of person the Organization deliberately seeks out to offer employment, although admittedly, in many respects less than ideal as well. Indeed, the idea of bringing S into our fold had already begun in official discussions prior to the current situation occurring. Regarding the captor, little has been confirmed save that she is Oni, and apparently quite powerful even for a typically powerful breed.

Your orders are as follows. If possible, safely retrieve individual S without resorting to force of arms. This may prove difficult, as individual S seems to display signs of having grown to enjoy his captivity, bizarrely enough. Whether this proves possible or not, initiate a diplomatic meeting, but avoid making any promises if at all possible. If hostilities arise, retreat immediately. Intelligence's best and most generous estimate, should things progress to an open conflict, gives you an approximately five to ten percent chance of victory over the Oni, assuming that individual S contents himself with remaining a noncombatant. Should he choose to enter the fray, odds of victory lower drastically. Repeat: do not engage.

Enclosed is a list of most likely destinations, and means of access.

Scarlet Thorn eyed the official letter distastefully, then carefully collected the enclosed information packets and set the rest alight, allowing it to burn to uniform grey ash as she thought. For now, she would continue as before, then.

xxx

"We're here, we're here!" Cirno called, in a childish tone that very clearly expressed a 'praise me!' sort of sentiment.

"... Looks like it." Ranma said bemusedly, as the guard ahead of them blinked slowly, obviously rousing herself from an almost-slumber. At the very least, Ranma had to applaud her restraint in not visibly yawning at them, which... well, she had to admit, would be almost as irritating as when her father did something like that, despite that the woman's absurdly vast wellspring of ki meant that she kept subconsciously checking to make sure that she hadn't, in fact, started glowing.

"Do you have business in the mansion?" The guard asked promptly.

"Not as such, no..." Ranma admitted. "My... business, if you want to call it that, is with you. Gatekeeper of the Scarlet Mansion... I, Saotome Ranma, of the Saotome Anything Goes school of Martial Arts, have come to offer you a formal challenge."

The woman blinked, then with a gentle push lifted herself away from her lazy slouch against the gate, standing tall. Very tall, Ranma noted in a brief moment of inferiority. Taller than most of the men she'd encountered, really. She had to look up just to stare into the underside of her breasts...

...

A brief, inexplicable surge of irritation washed over her as she realized that the other redhead was larger than her in every way, before she banished it.

"Formal challenge?" The gatekeeper mused aloud, with evident interest. "It's been a while since the last time. Most battles in Gensokyo use magical arts over anything physical. It's been... hm. Must have been ten, fifteen years since the last time?"

She shook her head, turned, and casually swung open the gate, motioning for them to follow her inside. Within the tall stone walls, the mansion was clearly visible, even from a distance, a straight and wide well-maintained cobblestone path leading from the gates to the large front door. Off to the left, a small house sat, nothing leading to it's door but a well beaten footpath, and to the right there was a relatively-recent raised stone platform. The gatekeeper led them immediately to the right.

Rather than immediately hop up to the stage, as Ranma did, she walked around the side, to a partly concealed alcove in the wall where a small gong hung, and rang it. The tone echoed loudly within the outer walls, and with a nod, she put the gong away again and hopped up to the stage, where Ranma was waiting, smugly sitting at the side of a small, portable table, set with cheap tin cups of steaming tea and a piping kettle.

To her credit, the gatekeeper didn't so much as blink as she took a place directly opposite Ranma and eagerly snatched up the offered tea.

"You'll have to forgive me, but we can't start immediately. The lady of the house enjoys watching on the occasions that I recieve challenges..."

"So we're waiting for the spectators to show? That's fine, that's fine." Ranma took a moment to pour a little water from the kettle over her head, returning her to male. "Gives us a little time to debate rules and victory conditions and all that, anyway."

"Given the name of your school, I expect this will be a short discussion." the gatekeeper pointed out dryly. She took a sip of tea and blinked. "This has a very... interesting flavor."

"That would be the dirt the leaves got covered in when the wagon carrying them broke." Ranma said calmly, taking a gulp of his own tea. "Little dirt never hurt anyone... well, no, assuming there's no parasite eggs in it anyway. I mostly washed them off before making tea with them, though, and the water was boiling so it should be fine."

The gatekeeper stared at the cup for a long moment before either deciding that he was kidding or that she didn't actually care and taking another sip.

"Unusual aftertaste." She noted. "No, I don't want to know what caused it. I'm likely happier not knowing exactly what I'm drinking has been through."

"Probably wise, in the long run." Ranma admitted. "I'm kind of hard on the food I steal and don't eat right away. Anyway... yeah, I'm not big on rules. Just, stick with things that can be done with martial arts and ki, I'd prefer we not actually kill each other, and I'd appreciate you not just flying higher than I can jump and raining energy blasts down on me. It might not technically be cheating, but it would get boring really fast, and then I'd have to retaliate by throwing boulders and big chunks of wall at you, and... yeah, more trouble than it's worth." He grumbled.

"... I think that's do-able." She slowly agreed. "So, no magic, try not to kill you, and keep flight low. Is that right?" She said, the merest hint of a superior tone floating through, as though she was speaking to a child.

"That's almost exactly what I said, yes... but somehow, the way you said it really irritates me."

"Ah? Is that so? Hm... Oh, and here comes the mistress now." The gatekeeper noted.

Ranma glanced off to the side. Coming in at a slow meandering walk, or really something more of a saunter were four newcomers, half holding up parasols for the other half. The first pair handled this situation as though it were a simple matter of course, and nothing to be thought of, an elegant looking maid with a vaguely amused smile holding the shade out for a young looking winged girl with a similar, albeit wider, grin. A matter of formality, or so it seemed, and nothing more. The other...

Well, the woman holding up the second umbrella had two sets of wings, one in the normal place and the other tiny and sprouting out of her head, and seemed clearly concerned for her companion. At a glance, it was easy to see why... she was clearly very ill, with deep bags under her eyes, an unhealthy cast to her already pale skin, and a slight sheen of feverish sweat. Clearly, the umbrella was something of a necessity for her at the moment, as without it the heat of direct sunlight would overcome her frail constitution.

Also, she was floating rather than walking, but as pretty much everyone he'd met since coming to Gensokyo seemed to be able to fly with little or not effort, that didn't seem as impressive as it could have been.

"Audience is here, huh? I guess it's about time to wrap up the small talk."

"Yes... In any case, I, Hong Meiling, Gatekeeper of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, accept your challenge and terms."

Ranma nodded. Then, without any hesitation or mercy, he dashed his still-steaming tea into Meiling's face in a cheap shot that would win him the match quickly. Or, at least, that would have, except that her arm shot up immediately to splash away the worst of the scalding liquid, and the rest had little apparent effect. He followed up by flipping the table as he rose, and kicked it forward while the flat surface was perpendicular to the ground, sending it, and to a lesser extent, the kettle and teacups spinning through the air at her.

She swatted it away with one hand, of course, but he'd expected that and had already started to follow up after the kick, lunging forward with a full power blow to the stomach.

It smacked solidly into the palm of her other hand, as it seemed that she had either predicted his plan of attack two or three steps in advance, or was simply absurdly fast, and her fingers clamped down over his fist before he could retract it. As she pivoted, he felt himself start to lift off of the ground, and frantically pushed off it with all his might, barely able to exert just enough force against the ground with his toes that the uncontrolled throw he'd almost fallen prey to was instead a mostly-controlled leap and flip, and that he landed on his feet instead of painfully face-first. He immediately kicked out backwards, and completely failed to score a solid hit to her midriff.

He'd been expecting that, actually. But in the position they were in, the only ways to counter that attack were either for Meiling to release her vice-like grip on his fist, or to leave herself vulnerable for another, more punishing blow in turn. As her fingers opened, he hopped forward and out of range of another casual grab, twisting lightly in midair to leave him facing her again.

"You fight kinda dirty." She mentioned, in a tone that was neither upset nor derogatory, but simply holding a slight sense of interest.

"Heh... name of my school says it all. Would you believe that I'm it's most honorable, forthright practicioner?"

He was answered with a slight, amused quirk of the eyebrow.

"Hmph. You're right there. Not that hard. Founder invented it to help him steal panties. My old man aint much better... made two sets of new, really strong techniques, entirely designed to make his petty thefts and burglaries easier for him. Still haven't figured out Tendo's deal, not that I care. And me? I just plain hate to lose. My pride... burns me from the inside out. I can't stand it. So, while I'm more than happy to play nice and fair when I know for sure I'm going to win anyway... when fighting someone as good as you, I just can't allow myself to hold any cheap shot or dirty trick in restraint."

"I understand perfectly. But I'm afraid I must humble that pride of yours." Meiling said, and blurred.

From this point, Ranma was forced into full defense, using his body and ki to their absolute limits in keeping himself away from the gatekeepers attacks. What struck him, though, was how different she was now. At the start, she had fought mostly defensively, using an unusual style that was something like tai chi in the way that Anything Goes was something like street-brawling. Every move was calculated exactly, using only the bare minimum required force and motion to deflect, dodge, or turn his attacks against him. A perfectly defensive art, well suited to a gatekeeper, who didn't need to follow or even defeat her opponents. So long as they retreated, and didn't pass the gate, her duty was carried out. Now, however, was much different. It was like she was an angry, cornered beast wrapped up in a human shape. Every attack was vicious, would be devestating if it landed, and somehow familiar. It would have been less unnerving if she had actually gone berserk... but no. Rather than wild-eyed rage, her eyes were cold and flinty. Every move was still, as before, calculated deliberately and specifically, in an absence of any true sense of malice.

In fact, Ranma was almost sure that she had decided on this course of attack out of a warped sort of kindness, in attempt to spare the pride he'd already declared vulnerable by demonstrating exactly how outmatched he was. Feh. As though he hadn't known that from the beginning.

But her defence had weakened. So, interestingly enough, he was pretty sure he had a better shot at victory now, assuming he could break away from her assault long enough to get off his counterattack...

He rolled desperately out of the way of a crushing stomp, and as he came up to his knees, just for a split second, he found his eyes drawn to the golden star decorating Meiling's hat, and he took in the character carved into it. And then, as he sidestepped another attack, and began to leap backwards, he understood.

"I'm afraid I don't have any particularly amusing recent anecdotes for dinner conversation." He remembered, Herb's words from that dinner not so long ago echoing inside his head.

"I know who you are..." He said aloud, a slight hint of surprise coloring his tone.

"Instead... maybe a story will suffice? Yes... I'll tell you a historical tale, then. Of the glory days of the Musk, the birth of the Dragon Dynasty, and of..."

"Chained Queen Cinnamon!" Ranma yelled, raising his off hand to point directly at Meiling's face.

Stunned, she hesitated in the attack. Not for long. Barely a fraction of a second, less than an eyeblink's worth of time. But it was long enough, as Ranma's other fist shot forward, the spiral of cold ki he'd been accumulating over his knuckles flickering into momentary sight from all he'd had to put into it to get this desperation move to work, and a ropy, spiraling, horizontal cyclone blasted forward, slamming directly into the patch of torso just beneath where ribs met each other at an angle. She was catapulted backwards, eyes wide at the impact, to slam into the wall behind her as the miniaturized force of nature continued to push relentlessly and unstoppably forward, cracking the face of the bricks behind her with its force. When it let up, she dropped to her knee and coughed into one hand.

Ranma recalled a certain similarity between this and the time he'd first met Suika. And then memories were banished, and eyes widened as Meiling rose, wiping at her mouth, a coin-sized patch of fabric worn completely through, but otherwise completely none the worse for the wear from taking an attack that he was reasonably sure would have torn Mousse or Kuno limb from limb, and at the very least ruin the rest of Ryoga's day. Once more, he found it thoroughly confirmed that there was just no comparison at all between the fighters here and those of Nerima. He forced himself to continue talking, in an effort to stall and catch his second wind.

"You know, I almost didn't put it together. But the way you started fighting was almost eerily similar, and then the badge on your head just clinched it, shouting what, if not who, you are to the world, for all to see. I guess... the pride of dragons burns pretty painfully too, huh?"

"... You could say that." She said, frowning slightly for the first time since he'd walked up to the gate. "That move... reminds me of something. An amazon technique, huh? So, those dried-up, cantankerous, wretched old hags are still stinking up that bit of China, are they?"

"Forever and always. Then, anyone who knowingly lives so near such a cursed place has to be harder to completely stamp out than a nest of cockroaches, just by default."

"Hmph. Don't I know it. You have to be pretty dumb just to travel through that stretch of mountains, though I suppose that you'd know well enough about that. So, I'd guess, then, that you've met one of my descendants. And here I was so certain I'd completely pruned the offshoots of the family tree, too."

"... So, I'm guessing if I say 'yes', you aren't going to start planning a happy family reunion with cake and wine."

"Not really, no." She admitted freely. "But... eh. You don't have to worry about me running off to finish the job, either. It's been long enough that anyone alive back then is almost definitely dead, and no point to punishing someone for the crimes of men more than a thousand years ago."

Ranma caught the apparent mistress of the house blinking and frowning at the dropped number out of the corner of his eye.

"That's good to hear, I guess... because I know something that I'm sure the mighty Cinnamon would be interested to hear. See, they recently found a thing they lost, the counterpart to that ladle. What it does, the kettle undoes... you understand?"

For a moment, despite that her guard didn't drop in the slightest, Meiling looked sorely tempted. Then she shook her head.

"It's been too long. I can't even remember much of what it was like, to be as I was then. Assuming it even works properly, anyway. I was cursed and sealed human. Then, as a human, I became youkai, to shield my new weakness. If I could become unsealed, it could well leave me only sometimes as I was, with levels of power I've only been able to at most scrape at the vestiges of since, and sometimes youkai, but it could also leave me as I was and sometimes as a vulnerable human. I'm too old to take risks like that, boy."

"Hm. Still, had to offer. I know how I'd react to it if I got locked, and someone knew how to fix it but didn't think to tell me. Discretion over valor, and all that."

"..." Meiling said, and blurred again, leafing Ranma scrambling out of the way of a kick to the side.

"Speaking of which..." She said. "We were fighting, weren't we. We should get back to that."

Ranma grunted as the battle began anew, the gatekeeper no longer interested in discussion. It hadn't lasted as long as he'd have liked, but he'd managed to recover somewhat, and began quickly burning through his recovered reserves.

The next minute or so was a chaotic maelstrom of pain, pounding fists and feet and blasts of energy and cutting winds, mostly focused at him, and most of which he was able to dodge. Not all, though, and what he couldn't manage to evade was almost invariably excruciating. He was heavily battered, now, bleeding freely from one nostril and the corner of his mouth, and from the way it felt he wouldn't be at all surprised if a doctor were to suddenly show up and declare that an organ or two had been completely mashed into a useless, soupy pulp.

The short of it was that he was losing, slowly but steadily. On the bright side, though, he'd figured something out. It wasn't that Meiling was predicting his every move twelve or thirteen steps in advance, as he had initially suspected. He didn't predict or plan his actions more than a step or two ahead, after all. But the truth wasn't much better... she was simply so absurdly skilled and practiced that she instantly recognized every move he made, from every style he had integrated, the moment he began to make it, and from there her body moved almost on its own to the correct counterattack. There was no tripping her up by deliberately setting things up with feints, either... she seemed to recognize the difference between them and the real thing almost instinctually. And to top it all of, she was significantly stronger than him, physically, and faster to boot.

It was like fighting that damn mirror-clone all over again, except the clone was serious about the fight, had about a thousand years of experience over him at best guess, was roughly two-thirds again as tall as she should have been, and okay, so it wasn't much like fighting the mirror-clone at all. But the train of thought still gave him an idea.

How to fight someone just like him, who knew every one of his usual tactics and could pluck the fuse out of them right the second he started them up? There were probably all kinds of answers, but at the moment he was mostly concerned with avoiding the gut-shots she seemed to have deliberately started aiming for and so keep his insides inside, so he could only think of two options offhand.

First, break out the really esoteric stuff to blindside her with. Stuff that she would have no immediate counter for, that he usually tried not to even think about, out of sheer mental self-preservation, like martial tea ceremony, or banking, or martial figure skating, though he would have to manufacture the ice himself somehow, or cosplay martial arts, or ballroom dance battling, or any number of other martial arts and crafts he'd had no choice but to pick up at some point or another. This was no good, as he wasn't in any condition to use most of them, and almost all were highly situational. Maybe next time, if he started with them right off the bat. Presuming there was a next time, anyway.

The other option was nearly as bad. Just drop all semblance of forms or styles, and go at it almost completely at random, like any street brawler or thug. Almost certainly suicide on his part, but also most probably the only way he could even possibly scrape a win off at this point.

He even knew a way to counter her speed advantage, at least, though only for a limited time, a minute or so, perhaps, and then the match would be done with, one way or the other. It was a long-odds, crazy tactic with almost no chance of success, but it was all he had left. And it wasn't like he was going to last much longer, anyway. At his best guess, he had maybe five minutes at most before another hit slipped through his guard, and then he was done. Better to go out in a blaze of glory.

With teeth grit from the effort, Ranma gathered up every drop of ki he could spare without dying instantly, and focused the chestnut fist over his entire body. Time itself seemed to slow down as he shot into motion, putting his entire body into every attack.

It still didn't seem like quite enough. All it did was place them on a mostly-equal footing, in terms of speed. Meiling was still countering everything he threw at her, it was just that now she had to work for it a little bit... And then, he shunted almost all of the technique into one arm, taking a glancing blow to the shoulder as the rest of him slowed down, while that fist snaked its way inside of her guard, landing a solid blow with almost every last ounce of his remaining power backing it up.

His second clear hit of the whole fight, and coincidentally zeroed in on exactly the same spot as the first. He had no time to celebrate that small victory, however, as she immediately made him pay in kind with a vicious uppercut, sending him fllying through the air like a thrown ragdoll, landing in a crumpled heap with a soft crunch from one of his shoulders. His vision swam, and darkness began to slowly close in.

"Someone like you... just a guard...?" He chuckled feebly, finding himself unable to rise, completely burned out from the fight. "I can't imagine... how absurdly broken... the people inside..."

With a soft sigh, blackness overcame him, and with a soft stab of regret he finally recalled his fathers forbidden techniques, which she couldn't possibly have seen before. That would have been a better plan, he realized, and then lost consciousness.

Meiling, for her part, was coughing and hacking violently into one hand as his eyes closed. Slowly, she managed to stop, and then stared into her palm for a long moment.

Then she sighed, deeply.

"Ah... in all of my time as a youkai... there has only ever been one human that could shed my blood, through any means..." She stared into her hand again where, in the midst of the phlegm and drool and other associated nastiness, a single spot of red glistened wetly, then glanced meaningfully towards her gathered superiors before turning back to her fallen foe. "Now... there are two. Is it... fate? I wonder..."

xxx

A.N

HELLO PEOPLES. Longer chapter for you today, containing the promised China v Femboy showdown. Yeah, took a while to put together. You'll just have to deal with it. In the meantime, I at least have the 'written down somewhere' lead-in bit of next chapter helpfully set up for me if I want to go that route, backstory of Queen Cinnamon. It, uh... yeah, it probably won't be pleasant. Just advance warning there.

Anyway, yeah, I said the Institute was government-backed. I never claimed that they were HAPPY about having the Institute around, or that they weren't on the hunt for something that hadn't been covered up quite well enough to use as a reason to give them the boot, or that they weren't also running one or three or a dozen counter-Organizations. So, not a plot-failure. They just have no choice in the matter for some reason, probably a war-concession or something like that, don't assume that history went down exactly like history went down or anything either. Could be any number of wars and stuff there that didn't really hapen, and contrarywise, any number that didn't and did. Yeah, Scarlet Thorn, whoever the hell she is outside the random neato codename, is a government backed devil hunter. Her partner... not so much. EXPECT HILARITY TO ENSUE WITH THIS SITUATION, ONCE THEY ACTUALLY SHOW UP.

Yeah, the whole point with the OC's is that I'm really restraining myself to keeping this just one cross. You people have no idea how much I just want to have Superman show up, drop-kick the Death Star into Goku's face, then leave for absolutely no reason. NO IDEA. But, yeah, restraint. Tohou theoretically has enough going on to keep my plotline attention deficit in line, anyway, so that should help. Thanks to all who suggested magical girls and whatnot, but yeah, no more crossovers until I crack under the weight of the 'you know what would be awesome? MAKING THEM TEAM UP TO FIGHT WOLVERINE' sort of plotbunnies. Crackbunnies. Trying to keep this story with as low a crack-content level as possible, given the two settings involved. So, OC's instead. Moving on.

Anyway, DORM WARZ CONTINUE. Yeah, I guess I could just go ask for a new room and hope one's available, but then I'd have to pack all my crap together, move it, unpack again, and I'd be stuck with this nagging sense of AAAAAGH, I LOST for weeks and weeks after that, which would make me paradoxically depressed, which means you people get no chapters. Writing doesn't happen when I'm depressed. Anyway, late nights, early mornings, loud weekend parties with multiple guests when I'm trying to catch up on lost sleep... you know, the works. I've countered this assault on my sanity by catching a cold or a flu or something, whatever that was, working through the misery of illness, and 'accidentallly' pointing my face in their general direction whenever we were both in the room at the same time and I suddenly had to cough/sneeze. Don't know if I succeeded in sharing the misery around, but past few days they've been significantly more withdrawn and managable, and I may or may not have heard a few sniffles. Maybe I'm just imagining what I want to hear. Anyway, I AM CURRENTLY WINNING, I think, SO HUZZAH.

Yeah, Ranma's crazy-tough by this point. Just, almost everyone he meets keeps on insisting on being even crazy tougher. Just how it goes. Guy who suggested it, can't think offhand of a way for Ranma to ride a vacuum blade without having to go pick up severed toes to have them re-attached afterwards. Not quite ready to include complete amputations on the list of greivous bodily harms Ranma's suffered just yet. Fairies power's still probably either color or fruit.

Anything else I can think of to ramble about...? No? No, I'm good. Okay, uploading time, then for sleeps.