Chapter 9: The Inquisition
Ranma ducked under one glowing blade while moving inside his opponent's guard in order to get close enough to deal with the other. "Butterfly Kiss!"
This declaration of his move elicited a groan of dismay before his foe went flying a dozen meters back, impacting with the practice arena wall. From her shallow impact crater where she was embedded in the wall, Shampoo glared at her airen. "Ranma! Why do you always end the match that way?" she groused petulantly, "You've had that move used on you enough by the old pervert to know how aggravating that is."
Ranma smiled widely at this complaint. The move was overused but he had a reason for it. "Now if I use it all the time, how come you haven't come up with a counter for it yet?"
When Shampoo asked him this question he replied that it was for her own good, in reality, it was more for his mental health. When he first started sparring with the Amazon, whenever he called break she would immediately move in closer and lightly brush up against him as she walked with him out of the practice area. It wasn't really hanging on him and the contact was never heavy, more sheer proximity than anything else. However, it was more effective than when she used to drape herself around him. In self-defense, he had started ending the matches by getting her as far from him as the arena allowed. With the improved durability the world granted them and whatever experience the prison had exposed her to, crawling from a crater was nothing more than messy. In practice, it allowed him to get to the exit without his Amazon partner was the main benefit.
Shampoo herself was beginning to suspect as much. While Ranma no longer turned into a gibbering idiot and he didn't have to worry about the fiancée brigade witnessing any acts of impropriety, she saw that he was uncomfortable with her closeness. Still, he never protested, simply kept in motion so it was more difficult for her to stay close to her. It was a game of cat and mouse and she was loving it. It was a war on Ranma's subconscious; obviously the frontal approach wasn't working. She must have been out of her mind to think it would. It was a wonder Great Grandmother hadn't had her sedated. No, it was vital to her new plan that her airen become used to, even comfortable, with her presence.
It was working too. Sure he fidgeted a bit, but he didn't scream or yell for her to leave. She had even noticed him inhaling with an abstract look on his face as he noticed her perfume. It was the first time since she started chasing her erstwhile husband that she felt that progress was being made. It might take time but for some reason, she seemed to have much more patience than before. Still... the Butterfly Kiss was obviously Ranma's way of getting space. She'd have to scale back her efforts yet again. Patience.
As Ranma walked out to the lunchroom he pondered their progress. Shampoo had really improved quite a bit now that she was concentrating on it. It was a relief to have a serious partner to train with. Usually, it was Ryouga. Admittedly Shampoo couldn't push him as hard as the lost boy could, but the blue-haired Amazon was a competent package. Akane was a nice girl when she wasn't angry at something but she had these blind spots. Cooking, swimming, and martial arts were three of them... and P-chan of course. She couldn't believe that she wasn't proficient at these things and so proceeded as if she had expertise far beyond what she possessed. With martial arts at least it wasn't as if she was incompetent, she just believed she was far better than she was... and therefore was unable to do the work that would enable her to have her beliefs matched in reality.
Ukyou was different, it was her goal to excel in her school of martial arts. And in her school she was unmatched. Naturally in Anything Goes style combat she lacked the skills to keep up, but that simply was not her desire. She was, at heart, a cook. Few could match her in this area and her competitive instinct was only actually engaged within this realm. This focus had allowed her to surpass Akane's diffuse efforts and kept her on par with Shampoo when the Amazon's attention was solely on Ranma. Now that Shampoo had once again started to train, she began to demonstrate why she had once been the best of her age in a village dedicated to warrior women.
The Amazon could be hot-blooded in combat but after being knocked on her butt a few times she settled down and focused. No complaints that he was too fast or hitting too hard, just buckling down to improve what she needed to in order to accomplish her goal. Ranma himself had taken some time to get into his partner/mentor mode. He hated striking the woman but in an arena where death could come to the loser, he had to ensure that she was prepared. Better a few bruises now than death later. Ranma had to frequently remind himself of this.
As for training, Shampoo would improve by simply sparring but... there were faster ways. Ranma had never taught anyone but he knew there were better ways. Recently, he had taken a few minutes before and after each session to try to analyze Shampoo's strong points and weak points. Ranma firmly believed that there was no one in existence who could do this better than he could. Usually, he used this to dissect his opponent's style and either imitate it, incorporate it or counter it. He had never tried to improve upon it for someone else's benefit... until now.
Each session he would try to press Shampoo in a specific fashion. Whether it was to push her speed-wise, endurance, or fluidity, each spar would have a goal. Usually, after each spar he would then go over the specific maneuvers he had seen as lacking and she would spend time on her own smoothing or correcting these with improvised katas. Shampoo wasn't picking things up as fast as he himself would have but he had trained with others enough to realize that she was really very talented in her own right. Ranma wasn't positive but he might go so far as to say that except for the old ghoul she was the most skilled female martial artist she had ever met. Masayo had more power and White Raven was... well mostly an unknown, but as far as skill went Shampoo was very good. Combined with her newfound psionics and durability and she was formidable.
Ranma was going to cut today's training short. The dragon that was hunting him stayed away from the training arena during the day and stalked him at night. Ranma actually enjoyed teasing the brute, leading him around dark alleys, cutting his aura, circling around back, and then letting his presence be known. Usually by throwing a bit of garbage, a taunt, or similar obnoxiousness. The dragon would then go on a rampage trying to get to him. Ranma was sure that if the eye hadn't been above watching him and probably enjoying the comedy skit, the dragon would have been banned from Atlantis from the sheer collateral damage. When Ranma got tired of this he would simply ghost away. He had no intention of formally confronting the beast until he knew more about the abilities of that breed of dragon.
One of the things he had noticed was that while he was playing tag with the black dragon the assassins would leave him alone, retreating just outside visual range. From the aura of the watchers, it was apparent that more than the first two Sunaj were involved. All counted there seemed to be fifteen people working on his case. He would let them follow for a few hours, play with the dragon, and then disappear. Or rather he would employ his more advanced stealth techniques and then the hunted became the hunter.
He had spent many hours tracking the habits of the people assigned to his 'case'. He knew where they lived, worked, and played. Most importantly he knew where and when they wouldn't be missed. Now that he had laid the groundwork it was time to take care of the Sunaj. His manager had gone into extensive details regarding tattoos and their abilities, he was aware of the limitations of the armor and weapons. In other words, there was no reason to delay any further. The dragon would wait on more research, the assassins had their time in the sun and it was time to sweep the board of them.
Ranma waited patiently. The first victim was due home any minute. This would be a test of the preparations he had made. It could be the apartment was monitored by higher technology than that he had taken into account of and he would soon be inundated with assassins. It was because of this possibility that he had chosen one of the assassins that lived isolated away from most neighbors as his guinea pig.
Looking about the room he noticed how sparse it was. A bed, dresser, table, and chair. It was obvious that everything had come with the room. It was kept with almost military precision, everything folded, the bed made, and no dirty clothes. This alone told him quite a bit about the character of not only the assassin but his guild. The room spoke of temporary placement and the tidiness spoke of discipline and perhaps a lack of personality.
Footsteps were heard outside, Ranma verified that his own aura and presence was generally suppressed and glanced to the side where a small device from his manager was supposedly telling the security systems that nothing was wrong. That would come into play once he dropped his attempts at stealth.
The door opened and into the room strode a large man in armor. He wore the typical armor the pigtailed martial artist had come to expect from his profession. The head was somewhat personalized, showing a scaled beast, perhaps a parody of a basilisk.
The armored man took one step into the room when Ranma reached over to the man's shoulder, pushed him over an outstretched foot, and struck the back of the helmet with surgical precision. The Sunaj wasn't anywhere close to being subdued with the one strike and his muffled voice could be heard yelling for backup inside the damaged helmet. Recovering, he somersaulted forward to his feet, glancing wildly about for his attacker. A shimmering blue field sprung up around the man.
Ranma smiled in satisfaction. So far, so good. He engaged his stealth once more and hung from the ceiling above the other man. He then leaped down upon the hapless man began to methodically beat him into submission. The room was small, without too much space to maneuver but against a single, physically inferior foe, this was actually in his favor.
Five force fields later Ranma's smile was a bit more forced. The man was almost out of energy for those damn protective fields and since Ranma kept disarming his foe the armored man also had to waste energy re-summoning the swords but the battle was being drawn out into minutes rather than the seconds he had expected. Time to improvise. Ranma was good at that.
Leaping around the room and gradually converting his chi into harnessed kinetic energy, he initiated an older maneuver. "Meteor Kick," he shouted while rebounding from the ceiling directly above the armored man. The Meteor Kick was first used on Pantyhose Taru, it used chi and kinetic energy in a way similar Happosai's Butterfly Kiss, however, it took more time to build up the energy. The other difference of course was it could do a huge amount of damage.
Upon impact, the force field dissipated like a soap bubble in a furnace, the helmet beneath shattered... and so did the floor beneath them. The apartment was on the third floor and the two rocketed through all the levels until solid ground was impacted... and the Sunaj tunneled straight down until he was embedded into the concrete up to the shoulders. Ranma, who was still standing on his opponents head lightly leaped off.
Reaching over into the debris that now surrounded them he picked up the shattered helmet and carefully examined it. It was as his manager thought. His first strike had indeed disabled the helmet's radio system. Satisfied that he had a bit of time, he kneeled in the rubble and took the limp man's head by a lock of his hair.
"You and I are going to get to know each other very well," he said good-naturedly as if speaking to a pet, "Oh, yes we are."
"So Fred, tell me again what an Atlantean is?" Ranma asked in a puzzled voice. He had evidently walked into a mess of politics.
"I can't understand why you forgot about this, Uncle Ranma," the other man protested. "I thought you said I was suffering from memory problems."
The two men sat in the remains of the basement; several ragged chairs had been salvaged from the wreckage and were having a very civil conversation. Despite the smashed concrete and dirt that was strewn around the area, the man Ranma called Fred, was pristine from the neck up and the scent of shampoo hung in the air.
"Indulge me Fred," Ranma said congenially. "As you can see we were caught in a natural disaster. I remember much of what you forgot but I need to know about our proud clan."
"Are you sure my name's Fred?" The other man asked in a confused tone.
"Of course I'm sure, nephew. Why I named you myself," Ranma assured. "Now go on, I so admire our brave history."
"Well, as you know, our race, the Atlanteans, lived on this continent ten thousand years ago," Ranma nodded in encouragement. He had heard of Atlanteans during his stay with Anhur. They were an offshoot of the human race with great physical and magical abilities. They were supposed to enjoy using tattoo magic and pyramid magic. Until he had arrived in Atlantis he had no concrete idea what tattoo magic was, he was still unsure what pyramid magic was. He doubted it had much to do with the New Age magic some of the funny Americans played with.
"Well the mages of the time used the energies stored in the pyramids to try to open an experimental rift. The magic rebounded out of control and a huge rift formed that spread from the coast of Atlantis to what is now known as the South American shores. The dimensional vortex led to a thousand worlds and many monstrous creatures were dropped onto the unprepared populace." The man didn't look particularly horrified by the story, more vexed.
"Many lives were lost before the rift was finally closed. The creatures that had been left behind either went into hiding or eventually were slain. However, the earth was damaged. Magic energies flowed out of the planet and were not renewed as is normal in a healthy planet. Our way of life and civilization is heavily dependent on magic so this created an insurmountable problem."
Ranma grunted to himself. Typical, an advanced civilization experiences a disaster and all they think about is how they are inconvenienced. Okay, that wasn't a fair judgment but he was in a lousy mood. He also wondered if his own world had once had a similar accident. It too had relatively little magic and the entire continent of Atlantis was missing...
"The mages of the time were further horrified to learn that the accident had destabilized Atlantis. It started to fade into another dimension. One not amicable to life as we know it."
"Hmm... can we fast forward just a little bit? Ten thousand years can take a while," Ranma interrupted starting to get impatient. He didn't see how this applied to a bunch of people trying to kill him.
"I'm surprised your mother didn't slap you if you interrupted our sacred histories when she first explained them."
"I'm incorrigible. Now hurry up, nephew," Ranma urged.
"Fine. Our ancestors fled through dimensional gates before the magic became too low open them again. To repent for our role in the disaster they decided to become galactic paladins. Crusading to right wrong and other such foolishness," Ranma turned a sidelong gaze on him. How do you go from paladins to assassins?
"Then Atlantis returned and a new leader headed our clan. He had a dream," Fred's eyes gleamed with an almost religious fervor. "No longer would we humble ourselves to aid lesser creatures. We would lead them and slay those who stand in our way."
"And the other clans," Ranma asked neutrally.
"We sounded them out about our ideas. They weren't receptive. They must all, sadly, die," the man spoke with regret for the first time in his voice. "We have already started isolating them and slaying them in small numbers. We even once killed many at once, though to ensure it wasn't traced back to us many brave families volunteered to die with our enemy."
"Wow, I'm impressed," Ranma nodded, his eyes narrowed. These people really were nuts. Like the worst of the cults he had heard about. And they seemed intent on dragging some very good people down with them in their insanity.
"As you should be. Through our hard work, we shall bring glory to our people. It is worth any sacrifice."
"Why the assassin thing?" Ranma asked, puzzled. Not that he expected them not to be killers after a story like that, but it didn't fit yet.
"In order to make arrangements to reclaim Atlantis and rid ourselves of the weaker clans we created the Sunaj identity. Through them, we were able to forge bonds of alliance with the current occupier of Atlantis, Splynncryth as well as the other Splugorth."
"Um, do you expect that he will give you the land back?" Ranma asked curiously.
"Either that or we will take it. Until then we use his power base for our own purposes," the man declaimed confidently.
Ranma looked up at the eye that hovered in the corner, hidden by its own means. "Right."
The armor-clad man checked his helmet's chronometer for the seventh time in as many minutes. The latest shift of his agents had failed to report. He couldn't imagine what could delay five of his people at once. Most of them didn't even socialize outside their duty. They had left their family behind for the greater glory of the race. Work was their life. It was a necessary burden they gladly took up. He checked the clock again.
He was at a loss. They didn't respond to the communicator and the guild magician was not due in to work until noon. He could almost guarantee that the mage would not answer his comm. The old man was all attitude. Still... something was evidently happening; he really had no choice but to try. Nothing. Damn arrogant mages.
Starting to sweat he began to contact all of the Sunaj at the local guild, even those who had just been relieved of their duty. All responded except the fifteen assigned to the human that Leviathan had targeted, and the mage of course. He immediately called the remaining to him. Somehow he had lost contact with half the local office and if they had been targeted his choices were to order his men to go to ground or gather them to regroup.
This was Atlantis, they still had the favor of Splynncryth and much leverage as being known as his minions. He still believed that even if his men were being attacked that sixteen Atlantean warriors would be more than adequate. Unless the authorities of Splynn themselves were to align against them, it would take a veritable army to take them down.
The sound of the door opening drifted to his ears and his frayed nerves jerked his body into action as he reflexively aimed his rifle at the door, internal energies were being marshaled in case a defensive barrier or sword needed to be called. He relaxed only slightly when he recognized the beetle headed armor of one of the first of who he had recently contacted.
"It's a disaster!" shouted the newly arrived person. "We have the alert the clan master! Unless we move it could be the end... "
"Shut up and report!" shouted the commander, fingering his rifle nervously. He knew the man before him to be a stable reliable soul. If something had panicked him this much it had to be huge.
"Didn't you see the front door? It has our clan mark on it," the almost hysterical man continued.
The commander blanched. This could be a disaster. The clan mark was known more formally as the 'Mark of Heritage'. Each of the original Atlantean clans had their own mark to symbolize their lineage. The main reason the Sunaj wore the hideous armor was not simply to instill fear but to hide their identity. Occasionally, one of their own was killed and the body left, but as long as they were not identified personally the mark could be shrugged off as simply a tattooed assassin who either blindly emulated the Atanteans or someone actively defaming them. It was one of the reasons most of the lower ranks of the Sunaj were drawn from the unknown or isolated people that had no reason to meet the other clansmen. However, now someone, probably the human target, knew their connection to the Atlantean clans. If the other clans found out... and believed it... it would be an unmitigated disaster indeed. They were years from being in a position to eliminate their enemies without taking huge losses in return. Probably even then they couldn't defeat the allied clans.
"We may have to move early despite the inevitable casualties," the leader slowly stated, his rank hanging heavy on his heart. "I believe that Leviathan's target may be responsible. I am unsure of how he found out about our people but I... I think we have no choice but to believe he did." He still didn't understand how, they had defenses against psionics, conditioning against almost any interrogation means imaginable, even the armor was booby-trapped to explode upon death and take the body, and evidence, with it... but the conclusion was inescapable. "When the others arrive we will have to initiate an all-out simultaneous strike on the target and his companions," the commander haltingly continued, verbalizing his thoughts. "If we can capture him and verify that the knowledge has not... reached our targets then we will not have to initiate our plans early."
Sighing he put the rifle aside and thought about what he would tell the people that would be soon trickling in. He activated his empathy tattoo. It allowed him to read the emotions of those surrounding him. With this, he would be able to judge his audience better. How he broke this news to the people to be arriving would determine much in the coming hours.
He jerked his head to one side. There were the panicked emotions of the fellow across from him but there were also the cool, ice-cold emotions of someone else.
Ranma had miscalculated. It really wasn't the first time. His insight on motives really sucked. It may have had something to do with his father's philosophy. Sure the 'taunt them until they are blind with rage and swinging wildly' method worked in the short run but it always seemed to cause trouble in the long run. When he paused to consider, it really made complete sense. He himself never fought harder than when he was mad. He had mastered his anger into a tool but he never tried to kid himself that he wasn't furious when someone kidnapped or attacked his fiancées.
So why hadn't he thought more about the consequences of declaring his knowledge to the Sunaj? Instead of a statement that 'coming after me was more than you can handle and you better back off' he had ended up with 'if you don't come after me in your maximum force, your whole clan is doomed'. That really wasn't the effect he was going for. If he let this continue he would have to protect Shampoo, and probably his manager from a no hold barred war with the Sunaj. He could easily handle one or two Sunaj freaks at a time but there were sixteen left in the city and they were one-dimensional gate away from hundreds of reinforcements.
All in all, he had better make up for his miscalculation before it escalated beyond any form of redemption. It shouldn't be impossible. Only the two in the room knew that he was aware that they belonged to a rogue clan and if he got rid of the symbol on the door... hmm, why was that fellow looking his way. He had full stealth engaged and they never activated those 'see invisible tattoos' unless they actually thought they needed them.
Okay, I suppose I'll have to initiate Plan B sooner than I thought, Ranma thought sourly to himself.
A shimmering field appeared around the commander. A moment later a similar aura sprang up from his sub-ordinate. Ranma was dismayed by the element of surprise being completely lost. Obviously something had keyed them into his presence and they had activated the enchantment that allowed them to perceive him. Ranma quickly debated which one to eliminate first. The commander was more of a threat but the lackey by merit of his being the weaker opponent would be easier to eliminate from the equation.
No problem, Ranma thought to himself as the leaped at the second assassin. A moment later he had just kicked the flunky into the rear wall, his field significantly diminished. Ranma had no time to congratulate himself as a huge impact swept him off his feet and propelled him toward the Sunaj he had just struck. Groaning in pain Ranma twisted in the air to orient him toward the commander. This incidentally aligned his feet with the face of the stunned fellow he had just hit to the back of the room.
The leader had picked up his rifle again and was shooting a constant stream of fire at the pigtailed martial artist. In his other hand, he held an elaborate sword Ranma would have sworn he had not possessed a minute before. Unlike the previous Sunaj armaments this weapon appeared more solid, more real than the previously used summoned constructs.
The initial burst caused a fiery pain in his back to bloom. Many others immediately followed. Since he was already on top of the feebly struggling assassin, he took advantage of the fraction of a second between bursts to flip him in front of him to act as a shield from the projectiles. This last attack shattered what remained of the poor man's helmet as well as the left arm and torso of the armor.
Ranma was not left unscathed through the torrent of fire, using a human as a shield was unwieldy and awkward. Half of the rounds found their home on Ranma's shoulder and cheeks, leaving a bloody line of bruises and welts. Ranma grimaced, it hurt, but the same attack back home would have him missing half his body instead of just suffering superficial, though painful, flesh wounds.
Ranma took advantage of his involuntary anti-missile barrier's sudden dearth of armor to touch the first in a three-step series of pressure points. He started to enact the next pressure point but it was obvious that the commander was readying another barrage. Hoping to delay this, he threw the injured Sunaj at his officer. Although this did delay the rifle fire, the senior assassin simply and efficiently stepped to the side, avoiding the human cannonball.
Ranma spent several crucial seconds dodging the rounds while trying to line himself up for a meteor kick. He soon gave up this plan. The commander was far better at hand to hand than any of the others yet encountered and he dodged the first two attempts. Well, he admitted himself, the Meteor Kick was for much slower or less skilled opponents. His larger attacks were out simply because he needed the front of the building intact, so as to not forewarn the incoming Sunaj. Armor screwed up the access to pressure points, speaking of which...
The subordinate Atlantean had struggled to his feet. One arm hung useless thanks to the aforementioned pressure point; the other wielded a large summoned battle-axe. A renewed aura radiated from the man, obviously his newly engaged force field. At a hand signal from his commander they simultaneously rushed the martial artist from opposite sides. The commander had thrown aside the empty rifle and summoned a second, more typical enchanted long sword.
Ranma frantically dodged between the well-coordinated strikes. These men had worked extensively together, and it showed in the manner they flowed with one another's attacks. Finally, finding an opening in the less experienced man's defense, the martial artist rolled between his feet, turned to keep the younger Sunaj between him and the veteran, and placed a Chestnut strike between the other's shoulder's. The defending enchantment flickered as it absorbed the kinetic energy, and then failed. The man was propelled forcefully in the ground and Ranma followed up with a Breaking point at the now exposed armor. Without the field to keep away Ranma's touch, the ceramic armor easily succumbed to the technique and sent a fine spray of dust and rubble around the immediate area.
The temporary incapacitation of the lesser Sunaj had the unfortunate effect of freeing the commander of the burden of having his man act as Ranma's shield. He followed up on this advantage much faster than Ranma expected and laid a fairly deep cut into Ranma's arm as he went for the second paralysis point on the fallen soldier's other arm.
The pigtailed young man cursed. He was getting tired and getting sloppy. The fallen soldier would now lack the use of his arms, but Ranma himself was getting cut to pieces while the commander was almost unhurt. He diverted a bit of chi from his depleted reserves to stop the bleeding and ensure he kept the use of his damaged arm for this battle.
Confident that the injured Sunaj was out of the way, he concentrated on the commander. Dodging in and out of striking range he began to work on the forcefield and armor. After a minute of this Ranma was coming to realize that while the commander may not be as good as himself but he just might be good enough. The other Sunaj just weren't fast enough to parry or avoid the sheer number of attacks the martial artist could field. If they were fast enough they still weren't skilled enough to tell the difference from a feint and an attack. Ranma could instantly turn a block into a throw, combine his dodge into a trip or body block. In other words, they simply weren't close to his league. The commander wasn't quite there either but with only one-fourth of Ranma's Strikes getting past the other's defenses and taking about one-tenth of the Sunaj's hits, Ranma was getting worried. If he didn't wrap this up before the gathering Sunaj got here he would have to choose to use the Saotome's secret attack, run away, or choose his more lethal attacks. That was if he had enough energy to pull them off at this late point in the game.
Large platter sized jaws of tiny 3-inch dagger-like teeth closed on his shoulder. Ranma's eyes grew larger and he tried to jerk his body to one side as he saw a large raptor, jaws firmly clamped on his body. A moment later the pain registered and he readied himself to attack this more immediate threat.
Okay, so I guess having his upper body paralyzed didn't completely neutralize the other fellow, Ranma thought frantically, I hear him issuing commands to the beast in the background. Through the pain of being jerked around like a rag doll by the carnivore it flashed through his mind that at least the commander couldn't really hit him like this.
He groaned as the sound of rifle fire impacted his ears and the pain of the high-velocity missiles stitched across his back. Okay, so reloading his gun was fairly logical, Ranma berated himself. The jaws relaxed, going limp and Ranma realized that the lizard had taken damage as well and had dropped the martial artist in order to deal with the pest that hurt it.
From his position sprawled on the floor, he had an excellent view of the commander as he stopped firing and dropped his rifle to the floor, parrying the beast's claws and head with an armored gauntlet. Glancing at the fallen Sunaj he saw that he was trying to get the lizard's attention. From what little he knew about the summoned beasts he thought that once the injured Sunaj actually gave a command it would ignore the more experienced assassin to once more concentrate on himself. He couldn't have that.
Leaping through the legs of the flailing lizard he reached the partially paralyzed man and with a light touch, completed the series of shiatsu. The man froze and whatever commands he had intended to give froze in his throat. Glancing back to ensure the commander was occupied, Ranma took a moment to break through a briefly renewed force field and render the man unconscious. It had slipped his mind that the more experienced tattoo wielders did not require motion to activate their enchantments.
Upon the assassin being rendered unconscious the martial artist glanced back to the battle to see the lizard fade from existence, the commander's two weapons having just completely bisected the magical beast. For a moment the two stared at each other, assessing his opponent's condition and comparing it to their own. Of course, the difference was that Ranma knew he had to be able to deal with thirteen more Sunaj and the commander knew he just had to delay Ranma long enough so that his reinforcements got here.
As one they each leaped towards the other. Ranma finally got a clean full-powered strike through the defense of the older Sunaj, throwing him back through the rear wall and into the alley behind the building. Ranma was about to follow after him when his eyes fell on the rifle laying on the ground. Smirking at the anticipated irony, he picked up the weapon and followed the Sunaj outside.
On the ground lay the commander in the act of rolling to his feet, swords still in his hand. He had just got to his feet when he saw the pigtailed youth standing before him with the rifle in his hands smiling.
Ranma smiled, he was going to enjoy this. Having felt the effects of the weapon he was confident that although a single burst would hurt the Sunaj, hopefully breaking through the field, it would be far from lethal. They were both too durable for that. He pulled the trigger.
Then he pulled the trigger again. When nothing happened, he glanced briefly at the gun, and then frantically used it to parry the two swords aimed at his skull. The first sword stopped halfway through the barrel. The second sword simply shattered the gun and continued to sketch a wound across the youth's chest. Okay, perhaps that wasn't as funny as he thought it was going to be.
"Did you perhaps forget to load my weapon," the assassin's mocking voice followed the martial artist as he somersaulted backward. Ranma's decided not to reply to that. He had no idea. The darn thing may have simply had the safety on. Did he look like a modern weapons expert?
Well, they were outside, if he didn't have to worry about destroying the building perhaps he could try something else. Rapidly closing he touched the ground at his opponent's feet setting off an explosion of rock on dust. Quickly maneuvering in the heavy cloud he used his chi senses to dance around the dust and deliver a long combination of chi powered strikes and kicks. He quietly cursed as the last combo in the series served to knock the assassin back out of the cloud and into the light.
Stepping out of the obscuring cloud he saw that the other man's armor was shattered. The only sword he had in his hands was the summoned long sword and his face was heavily bruised. Ranma didn't really feel much better but believed he had more reserves. The Sunaj stretched out his empty hand and another of the summoned swords appeared in it.
Once more they came together with a whirlwind of fists and glowing blades. The older man no longer had a glowing aura that offered additional protection, leading Ranma to believe that he was on his last legs and no longer had the energy to spare. Smiling in triumph Ranma prepared to make a final attack.
The next thing he knew he was face down on the ground and there was a large weight on his back. Struggling to turn his head he saw that there was a large Tyrannosaurus Rex on back looking dumbly around at its surroundings. Apparently, it had just been summoned and hadn't gotten its bearing yet. It was a little cramped in the alleyway but it had enough room to move forward and backward.
Ranma felt himself getting annoyed. No, it was more than annoyed. He hadn't like giant lizards since even before Ryouganzoua. Since then, he had grown to really dislike them. Then he started fighting these tattoo men and found out that the favorite monster they seemed to like summoning were dinosaurs. They were constantly being created out of nowhere and sent to attack him. Then this bozo creates on right on top of him and here he was, imbedded in the ground. It really bugged him.
Growling in righteous indignation, Ranma channeled the last of his reserves into his strength and grunting in the effort, lifted the huge, slightly puzzled, multi-tonned beast over his head. Glaring in triumph at the shocked Sunaj before him, he took one ponderous step forward and discovered something he hadn't realized before.
Dinosaurs aren't really made to be picked up by one foot. The weight isn't distributed correctly to be balanced and the skeletal structure isn't really rigid enough to support such an action without... well, things moving. So it was that the creature who Ranma had lifted finally figured something was happening at its feet and contorted its gigantic body to see what it was, perhaps even take a bite out of it.
Ranma tried to compensate for the huge shift in tonnage but no matter how he ran forward or back the creature would simply shift again trying to figure out what the heck was happening. It finally simply became too much to bear and the overgrown lizard came tumbling down on top of a very disgruntled martial artist.
"All right you scaly freak, let's try this again," a rather bruised Ranma growled from his cramped position under the er... he though it was under the stomach. Slowly, he once more gathered his strength and lifted again, only to find the monster fading into nothingness. Puzzled, he jerked his head around trying to figure out what was happening only to see an unconscious Sunaj commander on the ground before him, embedded in the ground and giving the illusion of being rather flat.
Sighing the pigtailed youth began to relax. Now he could take the symbol off the door and...
"Commander, are you all right," enquired a frantic voice from the hole in the rear of the building. Tiredly looking toward the opening, he saw an armored individual about to step through.
Sighing once more, not in satisfaction anymore, Ranma limped towards his next opponent.
"Hey Shampoo, you have any hand lotion," Ranma asked wearily. He looked tired too, the magic clothes he wore had been damaged. They were slowly re-knitting themselves, but at present, they were torn, ragged, and had huge splotches of blood on them. Some of it was even his. The only portion of his body that seemed to be clean and free of any sign of conflict was his hands.
"What happened to you? Did the ghost cat start chasing you again," the Amazon smiled teasingly, once a quick visual scan showed her husband was in no real physical danger.
"Ghost cat! Where," Ranma shrieked eyes darting quickly around. His nekophobia was not quite under control and he didn't think he could concentrate enough at the moment to keep his fear under control.
"Now really, you should know I'm only playing with you, darling," Shampoo volleyed back. She would have done more desensitizing of her own, except that she was in the middle of morning calisthenics and training had recently become a serious priority. She could try to woo her husband later.
"I'll be gone for the rest of the day," Ranma said slowly, sitting on the couch under the practice arena pavilion was feeling really good after a whole night of frantic exercise. He just wanted to sleep so badly but had to finish what he started. The leader had been a real bear of a man and he had not been taken unawares like the others. Ranma had been fortunate in taking out the lackey early and had routed most of the collateral damage towards the rear. He had taken a beating but finally won just in time for the next two assassins to rush inside. These were much weaker but the constant battles were beginning to take their toll.
Ranma had gone to the front door, popped the hinges, and replaced it with the similar, unmarked door to the rear of the headquarters. After destroying the door with the controversial symbol he had taken out a basin of water, a bottle of shampoo, and hunkered down to wait for the people trickling in. This wasn't his original plan, but... if there were only fourteen left in the city who were aware of his involvement it would be a shame not to take advantage of the opportunity to wreak complete and total confusion.
While he had waited for the assassins he searched the small complex. It was spartan except for a seemingly advanced computer system. Ranma couldn't really make head or tails of it. He had spent most of his time on this world in physical and spiritual training. Stay alive first and if you have any spare time before you collapse in an exhausted heap, then worry about technical and vocational studies. That was his motto. He unplugged the modules and stuck them into folded space for future reference. Maybe Nabiki would like it as a gift.
Ranma leaned his head back on the couch and rested his eyes for a moment. It had been bad. He had never fought more than two Sunaj at a time, but they seemed to come at him back to back. He had once trained with Ryouga all day and hadn't been this tired.
The smell of perfume and small hands massaging his shoulders gradually lulled him into the border between sleep and wakefulness. "I'd love to keep doing this all day but you seemed in a hurry when you came in," Shampoo's soft voice drifted in his ear.
"Hmm, yes. Important," he said fuzzily, still half asleep. "Lives could depend on it... especially ours." Groaning reluctantly, he staggered over to the main building where the manager kept his office.
Splynncryth bubbled in contemplation, relaxing in his pool of therapeutic slime. He hadn't had any idea that his gamble would pay out such huge dividends. He had allowed... or at least not interfered... when the Sunaj had been contracted by Leviathan to kill his new toy. He had expected a long cat and mouse game. After all, he had known his cat's paw was powerful but what chance had he against thirty or more Sunaj? Well, obviously more than he had thought. The Splugorth was far from stupid. He knew the principles of combat. In order to subdue an opponent without killing them, it was necessary that you either have something up your sleeve or be significantly more powerful. His pawn had proved to be both. By stealth and strategy, he had defeated his hunters in detail, taking them down one by one where he could not overcome them in mass.
This, combined with that odd method of hypnosis he had witnessed, seriously endangered the secrecy that the Sunaj relied upon to maintain their effectiveness. When the rogue Atlanteans had first approached the Splugorth it had been obvious to the alien Intelligences that this day would come. Secrets this large could not be kept forever. The revealing of this secret had a large possibility of resulting in the deaths of a huge number of Atlanteans. The 'good' Atlantean clans were annoyances, the 'evil' mildly useful. If they annihilated one another he would be satisfied. The irony would be humorous. On the other hand, if the Sunaj survived they would be outcasts and driven deeper into the welcoming arms of the Splugorth. Not as amusing, but again, Splynncryth could appreciate the irony.
Did he want to interfere? The Sunaj were adequate, if reluctant tools. He had been aware... all the Splugorth had been... that they would eventually be exposed. It would be fairly trivial to retrieve the evidence of the Sunaj being an Atlantean clan. Without hard evidence, the other clans would never react coherently. And then there was his most recent entertainment. He was sharing the experience with other beings of power. Rhada, Abdul-Ra, perhaps Anhur, though his involvement in the situation was unclear, and even Leviathan, though her involvement seemed less benign. There was the puzzle over why they were all focused on one being, a mere human. There was much more involved than he had first assumed and nothing had been clarified.
No. He would let this play out more. The Sunaj would serve his amusement one way or another and they really were the least of his minions. They would survive or fall on their own merit... or come crawling back to him to beg sanctuary.
This decided, he turned to the next aspect of his toy. His skill and power far exceeded his expectations. So much so that if things proceeded as they had, there would really be no competition during the next set of games in the Arena. He could of course let the higher order of his minions compete, but this would cause a disturbance. His peers would think he was 'fixing' the games. The minions would likely slay the lesser competitors out of hand and they had quite a following in the city. Not that he really cared, but if he caused unrest he would rather do it for a purpose.
Still, the human had enemies that could not be dismissed. Perhaps he should encourage them to enter. At least one of them had difficulties making the human stand still long enough to engage. It wouldn't be too difficult to point out the benefits of being in a large but confined arena. And if they killed all the lesser opponents then any anger would devolve around them rather than Splynncryth. He could perhaps modify the rules to allow guests not tonight in the preliminaries. That would limit the casualties of the weaker fighters but would create the complaint of favoritism. Decisions...
Yes, that would be entertainment.
"So you have no idea where any Atlanteans can be found," Ranma inquired again, somewhat dispiritedly.
"Nope," the alien chittered, whistled and clacked. "My business is firmly grounded in the black mire of hopelessness that we know as Atlantis," it stated in mild good humor. "The Atlantean race is widely known as wandering paladins and do-gooders. Not a lot of that going on in this town. Or not for long, anyway."
Ranma nodded to himself. He had been so impressed with how well his manager knew his way around the local system he had just assumed that he had all the answers. Thinking over the people he knew he, was slightly taken aback at the fact that most of them were considered evil by most common philosophies. Anhur, the god of assassins. Wasn't that a kick in the pants. It was ironic that he presently had such assassin problems. Obviously, the Sunaj didn't clear anything through him. Then there was Abdul-Ra and Rhada, really nice people except for the cat fetish demon thing. Still, he really had doubts that they rubbed elbows with a crowd known to hunt devils, demons, and similar evil.
"Well, thanks anyway," he slowly made his way outside, lost in thought.
The alien clicked his mandibles in amusement. It didn't know what his protégé was up to but from all the oddball requests it was fielding he was obviously hip-deep in something. It would be more reluctant to aid the young man but he seemed to be a decent entity. He was also the best damn fighter it had ever had the pleasure to manage. It had to admit that this fact aided in his patience more than anything else.
An hour later Ranma-chan used her senses to ensure that she had lost the spying eye that the present Lord of Atlantis and resident uber squid had tagged him with. She didn't mind it following her around when she was about her daily business, in many ways it was extremely convenient not to have to worry about the authorities. However, when she was planning on trying to get in touch with what passed as the rebel underground it seemed unwise to have the cosmic couch potato they were rebelling against looking over her shoulder.
After finding a relatively deserted spot, she took out the small cube the woman known as White Raven had given her and tried to activate it. This was a bit more difficult than she had originally imagined. The cube was a featureless dull-white, completely lacking in anything that appeared to trigger it. After rubbing and pressing various parts of the surface and getting no reaction she was beginning to get frustrated.
"Stupid box," Ranma-chan muttered angrily. "If you need help or wish to join us, use this," Ranma growled in a parody of White Raven's voice. "Why couldn't she just give me a flipping radio or something?"
Disgusted she tossed it at her feet. She was immediately engulfed in a blinding white light. When the brilliance faded the martial artist was gone.
"Okay, maybe this is better than a radio," Ranma-chan mumbled to herself as she looked around at a small fairly comfortable carpeted room with a couch on one side and a widescreen on the opposite wall. Her chi senses detected a fair amount of magic but nothing living within several hundred feet. One thing she didn't see, which was slightly disturbing, was an exit. Ranma-chan walked over to the wall and tapped at it lightly while examining it for breaking points. While it seemed to be a normal wall it was actually solid stone, not plaster or more conventional building material. A bit more investigation revealed the whole room seemed to be hollowed out of living rock.
"Right," the redhead muttered to herself. Talking to herself seemed to be getting to be a habit. "A room with no way out except teleportation." Sighing she sat down on the couch and waited.
"Hello," the mage known as Skippy repeated a bit louder. He was in the monitor room when the alert came in that someone was in the contact chamber. It was a simple matter to reach over and switch on the cameras. What he saw was a very fetching redhead and blue silk pants and a red muscle shirt. The girl was slouched in the overstuffed couch her head leaning back and mouth open... snoring like a chainsaw.
"This is silly," turning to one of the technicians in the room he asked, "Is this thing on?" He had been trying to wake the sleeping girl but had received no response. After hailing her multiple times he had increased the volume, slowly becoming convinced that there was a technical difficulty.
The technician had been watching the one-sided exchange from the start and had already been checking the status indicators. "Seems okay from this end. We may have to send someone in to check it. Of course, this kinda screws with the security but it's either that or... well there isn't anything else. She's out of position for the portal so we can't get her out from this side unless she moves."
"Fine," the young man said petulantly, "Bring me a talisman bank and I'll gate in. Have a squad ready at the entrance to take care of it if it's a trap." The talisman bank was simply a stack of energy storing devices that could act as a reservoir for the needs of larger spells. Although they were rechargeable it usually took many days of hard work. Skippy wasn't pleased with having to use one; he was the mage who had to do the work of recharging it.
Skippy had another take his station as he went to the more secure area where the squad would wait for him. This room had turrets and armored walls. It was meant to act as a secure area in case something unpleasant followed them back from their forays. After giving a few commands to prepare the people, he tapped into the battery bank, opened a portal, and stepped through.
The room looked identical to what he was expecting. The redhead was still sleeping on the couch and the large screen opposite her showed the technician who had replaced her and his small lizard familiar that he had left behind. "Well?" Skippy asked. "Is this thing working?"
"WELL, I HEAR YOU FINE, HOW IS IT ON YOUR END," the technician seemingly bellowed, sending Skippy reeling to the side of the room clutching his head.
"Argh! Turn it down! Turn it down," Skippy called out. Looking at the girl still asleep he continued. "Send a medic in here, if that didn't wake her she's obviously sick or injured."
Walking over to the girl he reached over to touch her shoulder. He was surprised to see her seemingly roll over in her sleep avoid his outreached hand. Frowning, he tried again found her moving in the opposite direction. Confused, he tried several more times, faster and faster. Regardless of how he moved, his advances were all avoided by what appeared to be coincidental movement, suspiciously fast movement but...
"Oh, it's Ranma," a familiar voice came from the speakers. Turning Skippy saw White Raven herself on the screen. He turned a mild glare at the technician and received a shrug in return. It was standard procedure to notify her or her second in command, Max, if something odd came up.
"I thought Ranma was a guy," Skippy muttered. "Is she putting me on?"
White Raven sighed. Skippy was a senior member of the Resistance but was always lax when it came to keeping up with the intelligence work. She had put Ranma under intense mechanical surveillance before she contacted him. Unfortunately, she had, at the time, missed the Eye of Eylor and the water curse but she at least knew some of his more obvious quirks.
"It is simple training. Just don't outright attack her and she should be perfectly safe," White Raven saw a puzzled look cross the young mage's face. Why would he attack her, wasn't he... or rather she on the safe list. Raven saw this and smiled; one of the servants at the arena Ranma was practicing in had let his frustration get away from him and been a tad too aggressive. The result was one servant on the other side of a hole in the wall and a still sleeping pigtailed boy. Raven's brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to recall how Ranma's training partner had dealt with this. Oh yes.
"Breakfast!" the woman called out over the speaker.
Instantly Ranma-chan stood awake and alert looking around for something edible. After a moment she took in the glowing portal in the center of the room, the presence of the mage and the larger than life image of White Raven. "Huh?" a confused Ranma-chan grunted, her brain not quite in sync with her body.
"So what brings you here," enquired Raven, not willing to wait for the other to get her bearings. "The last I heard of you there were certain errands you had to finish before you could think of joining us."
"Er... why am I here?" a confused look crossed her face and her stomach growled loudly at her. Her first reaction was to say breakfast but there was something else she was here for. Ah yes, "I need to speak with an Atlantean."
Now it was White Raven's turn to be confused, "Then why are you here? The continent is full of Atlanteans."
"No, no," protested Ranma-chan, while dismissing the statement with a waving right hand. "Not the big monster squid Atlanteans," Ranma-chan illustrated by waving her arms to demonstrate the tentacles of a Splugorth. "I mean the human Atlanteans who lived here ten thousand years and caused their continent to sink in the first place with a bungled spell."
White Raven looked nonplussed for a moment. As a dimensional traveler, she was well versed on events that had impacted the multiverse on such a large scale. Never the less, what happened ten millennia was not on her list of events that impacted the immediate events. The moment of silence continued as she concentrated on Ranma's statement.
Ranma saw the blank look on the woman's face and continued. "They wear tattoos and do things with pyramids... you know magic?"
White Raven connected this description with a passing comment Max had made regarding the history of his people. "Oh. Atlanteans!" She stated in comprehension. "I hadn't ever heard them described... quite that way." Most people she knew considered Atlanteans crusaders and paladins. Max would have a fit if he heard them mentioned in this twisted manner.
"Indeed," a voice said next to her dryly, "Quite refreshing." She winced as she saw that the very Atlantean she had been thinking of stood behind her.
"Oh. Max," she paused awkwardly. "We were just talking about you," she trailed off.
"Great!" Ranma-chan broke in enthusiastically ignoring the stilted silence. "So you're an Atlantean," Ranma-chan enquired eagerly. "Funny, I thought you'd be taller."
White Raven massaged her temples. Her second in command was an even-tempered man outside of battle, but this really wasn't how she had planned to introduce the martial artist, who she viewed as a potentially large asset, to her inner circle, who already were huge assets.
"Well I am sure it's hard to live up to a reputation of a... 'bungler', I believe," Max asked with deceptive calm. He didn't know whether to be outraged or amused.
"Well, I'm sure you guys have gotten the spell thing down in the last few thousand years, we all make mistakes," Ranma consoled cheerfully. The Atlantean really didn't look as tall as the others, maybe he was malnourished, she thought to herself. Of course, he was standing next to White Raven, who was really built. Ranma-chan focused her thoughts elsewhere. She kept getting distracted by thoughts of food and had no idea why. "Er... if it wouldn't be rude, could I see your... um," Ranma-chan racked her brains for the term the Sunaj had used. "... family markings? No, I meant Marks of family... um... no," Ranma-chan was floundering. "The tattoos on your arm that show what clan you're from?"
"You mean the Marks of Heritage," Max supplied, his demeanor slightly altering towards irritation as the subject became more personal. "I really have more important things to do than to deal with an admirer."
"Admirer," Ranma-chan asked, thunderstruck. "Of Atlanteans," her tone was so incredulous that White Raven winced and Skippy snickered from the arm of the couch he had retired to in order to enjoy the show better. Ranma-chan was confused. How had the tattoo guy jumped to that conclusion? She knew she was a bit crude language-wise but 'bungler' had pretty much encompassed what little she knew of the Atlanteans. She hadn't expected Max to hear, but well, so far she wasn't impressed.
"No, it's purely business," Ranma-chan continued, matter of factly. "I have a message, and I need to make sure it gets to the right clan," or at least not to the wrong clan she thought.
Max simply grunted, now thoroughly in a sour mood. White Raven gave him a subtle nudge and he sighed, moving to unlock the gauntlets of the light body armor he wore. He then held his wrist up to the camera pick-up and an intricate design done in an almost iridescent blue stood out. Ranma-chan carefully examined the marking and hummed to herself in understanding.
"So you recognize the marking as the correct clan," Max asked as he noticed the light of understanding enter Ranma-chan's eyes.
"Nope," Ranma-chan chirped, eliciting a start from her audience. Really, she may have been endowed with the ability to read and speak all languages from Anhur's gifting but the clan marking was a symbol and was not actually a language. The third eye tattoo had briefly activated, obviously triggered by his close scrutiny of the tattoo, but it could discern nothing of interest from an image on a view screen. Out of the corner of her eye, Skippy burned bright with a magical aura and the floor was a triggered teleportation platform, but that really didn't interest her at the moment.
"But I know who you aren't," the martial artist winked at the people on the screen, "And that matters a heck of a lot more." Ranma-chan took out a small metal rectangular brick, about an inch across, and handed it to Skippy.
"I'm not into technology or anything but my manager says that this is a," Ranma-chan's face scrunched up in concentration as she prompted her memory. After a moment she shrugged, gave up and took out a pamphlet which she began to read from. "The Mark XXIIM espionage special. It is able to store holographic data for two weeks of high definition surveillance. Find out what your competitor..." Ranma-chan broke off as she realized that she had read too far into the description. "Well, actually this is just the memory from one. The unit was an add-on to another device I was using to disable a security system, or rather several systems. I think it was ..." her face gained another look of concentration and once again she shrugged and pulled out another leaflet.
"I think we get the point," White Raven interjected. The underground used these devices frequently in their war on the present establishment of Atlantis. She was confident that she was far better versed on the devices Ranma-chan was talking about than Ranma-chan herself. Skippy suppressed another snicker which drew a glare from the redhead.
"'Kay then," the martial artist stated shortly, slightly disgruntled to have her spiel interrupted. "Anyway, this has some information on the Sunaj... "
"I think I already mentioned that we don't have the resources to openly help you," White Raven broke in once more.
Ranma-chan spared her a brief exasperated look, and then waved her hand dismissively. "Naw. I've taken care of the Sunaj... or at least the ones in the city." The others drew up in surprise and skepticism at this statement. "They're involved in a bit of nastiness with the Atlantean clans. I just thought I'd give this to someone that could pass a warning up to one of your leaders or something."
Max leaned forward. "The Sunaj were plotting against us," he enquired in interest.
Ranma-chan paused before she nodded, "I suppose that's one way to say it."
"One last thing, it's important that the Aerihman Clan doesn't see this. Anyway, I have a ton of things to do and I am so hungry I could eat a horse, so if you could just send me on my way..." Ranma-chan prompted. At White Raven's nod, Skippy tapped into the enchantment bound into to room and the martial artist vanished.
Nabiki sighed as she watched Akane play with the newly arrived little girl, Komar, from the alternate Japan. Looking over to where Masayo was frowning at the two disapprovingly she had to ask.
"What made you bring her here," Nabiki asked the warrior.
"She was missing Ranma," although the words were gentle, the expression as she looked at Akane was not. Masayo did not get along well with Ukyou, Shampoo, or Akane, viewing them as wild little girls with no self-control. Dangerous little girls with access to magic and not insignificant skill. "It's quiet on the other side. The Oni are pacified. The enemy leaders have fled to somewhere unknown. Since I travel here often, I brought her with me to show here where Ranma lives. It will give her an idea of where Ranma grew up."
"Er... Ranma only spent about a year here. He grew up on the road," Nabiki pointed out.
"It doesn't matter, she's enjoying herself," Masayo's frown deepened to again contradict her words.
"You aren't too fond of Akane," Nabiki pointed out the obvious.
"She really isn't bad as long as she doesn't see you as being after Ranma," Jess broke in from the side. She had often taken the role of the peacekeeper when Nabiki was too stressed and Kasumi's aura of tranquility failed. She and Masayo got along well together. Jess's hard work, dedication to the martial arts, and cool temper meshed well with what the Demon Queller considered admirable.
"Her attitude grates on me," Masayo confirmed, ignoring Jess's attempt to look on the bright side. "Has Balthazar been punished?" she inquired, changing the subject.
"Well, we threatened to ship him off home to meet the King's justice if he did one more piece of unsupervised magic," at Masayo's raised eyebrow, she continued. "Supervised by me," Nabiki clarified.
"Hmm. Lenient, considering he was largely responsible for your companion's demise," Masayo mentioned without regret. She considered Shampoo even more irrational than Akane.
"Uh, Shampoo survived," Jess felt obligated to mention. "She's training to help Ranma in the Arena."
"Oh good." The lack of sincerity in the Demon Queller's statement was overwhelming, though she did wonder what the Arena was. "Where's the princess?"
"She's with Balthazar, studying," Jess said. Nabiki smiled smugly.
"I thought she hated the toad," Masayo asked her interest raised. Masayo didn't really like Cindra but then again she didn't dislike her. She was relatively harmless, if annoying.
"She does," Nabiki said, "But I pointed out that as long as she needs his magic to go places she's stuck with him. Magic-users can live a long time. I also pointed out that if she knew circle magic that she wouldn't need to endure his presence anymore."
"So she's willing to endure the maggot now for freedom in the future. I'm impressed, I didn't know she had it in her." Jess nodded at Masayo's statement, she didn't know the princess had it in her either.
"Any more problems with Ranma's... fiancées?" Masayo asked. Usually, she wasn't so grim but she always disliked talking about her competition for Ranma's heart.
"I haven't seen Ukyou since the incident, but I have to watch Akane," Nabiki said, her own mood growing sour at the subject. "Since she found out that Shampoo survived and is competing with Ranma she has been nosing around Balthazar when she thinks I'm not watching."
"So she is still is obsessing over Ranma?" the Demon Queller asked, oblivious to her own similar obsession.
"Yeah, she also seemed to be spending a lot of time looking at pictures of her and Ranma and things he gave her since he's been around," she paused and then shivered slightly. "I think she spends too much time with the damn hammer Ranma gave her. I'm not sure, but I think she may talk to it."
"It's not a possessed weapon, is it?" Masayo asked, her own experience coming to the fore.
Nabiki snorted, "Of course not. It's pretty powerful but not evil."
"Be wary. Often when people are seen to be speaking to powerful magic artifacts, the artifacts are indeed talking back," the warrior warned.
Nabiki looked once more at Akane and Komar playing happily on the living room floor and nodded. She would take another look at the weapon if she could convince Akane to let someone else touch it.
Max, White Raven, and Skippy sat in the council chamber. After the martial artist's declaration of hunger, they had moved into the chamber for several reasons. The first was that the room had good security so they could avoid casual eavesdroppers in the complex. It was unwise to spread too much information around in a city controlled by the Splugorth. The second was that the room was also equipped with an advanced holographic projector. It was usually used for maps and strategic planning but it was just as often used to view surveillance intelligence.
Skippy sat down in the chair he usually took and slid the small memory brick into the reader and leaned back to watch. The image being projected was that of an empty room. Used to dealing with surveillance, where hours, even days could pass before anything of note would happen he leaned over to the keypad and gave the pre-programmed command to fast forward until the image showed motion. A moment later he leaned forward again he eyes widening. The door opened and into the room walked what was easily recognized as a Sunaj in armor. He took one step into the room before a young man, dressed almost identically to the red-headed woman they had just met, seemed to phase into existence behind the assassin. One blow almost split the helmet and sent the assassin to the ground. A minute of combat that was so fast it almost seemed a blur and the Sunaj was sent through the floor with the martial artist following, foot outstretched.
After a moment of silence the young man leaped up through the hole and the point of view shook for a while as the equipment was relocated. Skippy absent-mindedly typed in the command to steady the camera and provide an artificially smooth picture. The new view settled down to show the assassin embedded up to his shoulders in the ground. His mask was off... shattered really... pieces of it could be seen stuck to the man's hair and face. The three people watching the drama looked on with interest. No reports could be found of what a Sunaj looked like out of armor. They really hadn't even known if they were even baseline humanoids until that moment. The young man casually started to hum to himself as he seemed to pull a bottle and a basin of water from somewhere and begin the lather the unconscious man's head.
The three looked at each other in silent puzzlement. The battle had been impressive. They had expected to see some unpleasant interrogation afterward and had steeled themselves for it. This... this was not what they had expected.
Looking back to the image they saw the man's hands blur. Skippy typed a command and the image reversed and slowed. It could now be seen that the man's hands glowed with a soft blue light and his hands were pressing, tapping specific points on the man's head in a complex pattern that frankly had no meaning to him. The hands blurred once more, despite the image's slower speed and the unconscious Sunaj's hair was rinsed, dried, and brushed. The basin and bottle disappeared, most likely back where it had come from.
Without a sign of effort, the young man reached over lifted the assassin out of the floor he had been embedded into, breaking away large pieces of stone that held on in stubborn resistance. Laying the man on the ground he almost gently patted the man on the cheeks. "Wakey, wakey, Frank. You've had a terrible accident and have lost your memory of the last few weeks. Fortunately, I found you and am here to help you," the youth paused from the oddly stilted speech. "I am your uncle and you can trust me completely." The man woke and looked at the pigtailed youth with a dazed look that quickly came into focus.
Max nodded to himself. It was certainly an odd way to go about an interrogation but the 'shampoo' had obviously been a chemical treatment that induced a hypnotic state. Then the person simply stated the facts he wanted to be foremost in the victim's mind and woke him. Interesting, he would soon see how effective the method was.
From that point, it was almost a straightforward question and answer session. The young man quickly affirmed that the other was a Sunaj assassin, but from there it took an odd turn.
"You're, I mean we, are Atlanteans," the martial artist asked puzzled at one point. "You mean we were born on Atlantis?"
"Uncle you jest well. You know that we are true Atlanteans, born and bred on this land far before and unclean creatures claimed what we were forced to abandon. We are the Aerihman clan, sworn to reclaim our birthright."
"Right," the youth stated skeptically. This line of questioning led to the man showing his various tattoos and gradually the scheme to exterminate the other clans of Atlantis.
To Skippy this was interesting but nothing more than a dramatic soap opera. He knew nothing of Atlanteans except Max was one and had a big paladin image he was keeping up. White Raven looked upon the revelations with concern. She knew quite a bit about modern Atlanteans. She had traveled for decades on her own through the dimensions and had learned quite a bit since she had first combined forces with Max a few years ago. She placed a comforting hand on Max's arm.
Max himself was in turmoil. He had trouble believing what he was seeing. He had been aware of... all the clans had been aware of... the Aerihman Clan being more violent and belligerent than the others, especially under the leadership of their new clan head, Lord Aerihza. Several times the other clans had to reign them in from high handed treatment and abuse of other non-Atlantean races. Still, after their latest reprimand a few years gone by, they had seemed to calm down and if they weren't model citizens, they were far more polite.
Obviously, if this wasn't some elaborate ploy then all the other clans were horribly mistaken. Horror soon became anger as he learned that the rogue clan had engineered the massacre that had ended the lives of 1300 Atlanteans. Max himself remembered hearing about it. At the time tensions were high between the Aerihman Clan and there had been some suspicions that this clan had been involved in the tragedy. The fact that men and women from the Aerihman clan had died in that disaster dispelled this belief and harmony soon returned to the clans. His mouth turned down in a grimace of distaste. If, as the assassin in the hologram stated, they had been volunteers then the whole incident took on a new light.
The other clans hadn't suspected a thing. The clans treated one another like family, offering one another the hospitality of the home or aiding another in combat with the supernatural at a simple request. In this atmosphere, it would be simple to slay the family as they slept or turn on them in the middle of combat. Aye, if the Aerihman were indeed the Sunaj, then as minions of the Splugorth they would have ample opportunity to set up traps and ambushes.
Max's attention was jerked back to the image as the pigtailed youth had managed to get his 'nephew' to tell him about the identifying Marks of Heritage. The man removed a gauntlet and there indeed was the symbol of the Aerihman Clan.
Lost in his own thoughts he only dimly recalled the display showing fourteen more impressive encounters. After each battle there followed a brief interrogation, more to confirm the information already known than to ferret out anything new.
The battles continued until it was obvious that the youth in the image was on his last legs of endurance. The commander and his aid had done most of the damage, but there had been a few other instances of fighting two of the Sunaj simultaneously.
Most of the battle with the leader of the local chapter of Sunaj was not shown since it occurs outside the range of the device. However, it was obvious in the aftermath, since the recorder was set up to show the leader's own question and answer period. The pigtailed youth had obviously taken far more of a beating during this encounter as his clothes were torn and blood liberally coated his arms and chest. Max stiffened again as he saw the face of Sunaj commander. He knew him. Not well, but at several clan meetings he had seen that man as a minor officer in Lord Aerihza's staff.
White Raven and Skippy's eyes were riveted on the images before them. They were witnessing history. A whole local guild of Sunaj had just been taken down overnight. That alone would have a huge impact on the local political structure. Oh, sure the local group was only about thirty people but the Sunaj had a position and reputation that had abruptly been altered. There was also the issue of the true identity of the Sunaj. That may or may not become public knowledge but glancing at Max's angry and resolute face, it would not be ignored.
Raven had her own console up and was looking from the display to her report frowning. "Unless our intelligence is off, there was a mage that was not taken down."
Max called up the same report Raven was viewing and nodded. White Raven shared her notes and it was evident that she had checked off the descriptions of the Sunaj as the holo played back. All the known members were checked off except for the mage. "Says here he rarely shows up before noon. That probably explains it. Mages can be notoriously unreliable." Skippy glared at the Atlantean but declined to pick up the gauntlet.
"I suppose it's no surprise that I need some time to take care of clan business," Max continued in clipped tones, obviously upset but in control.
"Take all the time you need," White Raven urged. It would be hard to do without the experienced second in command but the recording made the need self-evident. Unsaid was also the fact that if the Atlantean clans took out the wayward Sunaj, Splynncryth would be out another whole tier of minions that normally acted as informal bounty hunters, assassins and troubleshooters. Well, unless the other clans drove them into the Splugorth's hands as the only sanctuary. When she brought this possibility up Max nodded shortly.
"I am aware of the issues. If mishandled we could trigger a disaster... or rather precipitate one earlier than the... Sunaj... wanted." Max paused as if asking himself if he really wanted to confide clan business to one who was an outsider despite being a friend. Finally, he continued, "The Aerihman Clan is well integrated with the others. They are intimately aware of the inner working, defenses, and weaknesses of all of the other clans." Max's fists clenched in suppressed anger, "They were family. Despite our disagreements, there was no need to hide anything from them." Turning quickly to Skippy he asked, "I need transportation to the clan elder. I can give you the coordinates."
"Well, we already used one of our reserve batteries," Skippy answered reluctantly. "However, this is an emergency. Just say when."
"This may take a while to deal with. We will have to move carefully to avoid them finding out that we are aware of the situation and attempting a preemptive strike," he stated, addressing White Raven. "The good thing... the only good thing... that might come of this, is that if we work this correctly you might have a lot of volunteer Atlantean freedom fighters anxious to strike out at the Splugorth for corrupting our kindred," Max gritted his teeth. He knew he certainly felt that way.
"As long as they are willing to take orders," White Raven acknowledged, "You know we are so numerically outclassed that we can't afford loose cannons."
"I'll be sure that they are aware," the Atlantean sighed, "That is in the future anyway. As I said, this is going to take a while. Be careful while I'm gone."
"Now Max, you know I'm always careful," Raven smiled as she waved goodbye to her friend.
Both Max and Skippy snorted in disbelief at that statement and then looked at one another in surprise. Who would have believed that they would agree on something?
The black metal figure moved deeper into the shadows. Since it had escaped the cat beast it had stealthily hunted its prey. This city wasn't kind to artifacts of its ilk and care was required to prevent something or other from trying to lay claim. Naturally, this slowed down its pursuit to a crawl. It had to hope that the godling it trailed stayed in one place for a significant amount of time or its cause would be lost. Already almost half its embedded talismans were destroyed. This made travel difficult but far from impossible.
Its mobile period had almost lapsed. It was time to find a hiding spot until its enchantments regenerated and it could move once again. It had made about a mile that day, hopefully, it would make another mile tomorrow. It was slow but the creature had patience. It would fulfill its mission.