Agent of Chaos
Chapter VII: In Which Spandex Flies
Disclaimer: I did not come up the idea to use a disclaimer, and do not own any of the rights associated with such. Oh, and same goes with Ranma 1/2.
Ucchan's was in trouble.
At first, it was the plain and simple fact that Son Goku had never actually cooked anything for himself in his entire life--that is, besides the occasional dinosaur steak, and fish. Lots of big fish. More fish than most men care to see in a lifetime. Tons of the suckers; so many, normal people couldn't even think of it.
Did we happen to mention he likes to fish?
Yes, well anyway. Before long, his deep knowledge of the art of fish began to dry up as orders poured in, ranging everything from Sautéed Portabellos to Rather Odd, Glowing Mutagen to--*shudder*-- Meatloaf. The crowd of hungry wackos might have gotten quite nasty if he and Gohan hadn't been able to convince Vegeta to take over cooking.
"All right, all right!" the Saiyan Prince snapped, stalking over to the counter. "ANYTHING to get you two to stop whining at me! But if you even THINK of trying to get me to wear that stupid apron, I'll blast you into the next dimension!"
Goku smiled reassuringly, immediately crossing his fingers behind his back. "Would I do that to you, Vegeta?"
Vegeta snorted and grabbed a spatula. "You had better not, Kakarot."
Ten minutes more of nagging, and he was wearing a bright pink one with the words "MR. BAD" in yellow surrounded by hearts on the front. The expression he wore would have done battle with Nabiki's best cut-heart-out-one-paper- cut-at-a-time death gaze.
After the surly new chef took over, things got worse. Even though it turned out that Vegeta was an excellent cook, Goku had to constantly stop him from obliterating customers that so much as looked at him. Then there were the problems of stopping Goku from eating out the restaurant, figuring out the prices for the several thousand different menu items, Goku's attempts at being a greeter--people were still nursing broken fingers--and worst of all, more customers pouring in by the moment.
Oh yeah, Goku thought, and then there was the thing with that guy with his big gun.
He had been a tall man, with very pale, short-cut blond hair and hard blue eyes, dressed in strange red and white skin-tight clothing. His black gun had a long, square barrel with the words Colt .44 engraved darkly on its mirror-bright surface, and a single round lay resting in its first chamber. After calmly ordering and eating his meal, the man had slowly stood up and made his way to the counter, where Vegeta was busy arguing with a blue- haired, pointy-eared fellow as to whether one was sent to the next dimension or the Void. It was getting quite spirited, as both men were glowing.
"Can I help you, Mister...?" Goku asked, smiling slightly.
The man looked lazily up at him, and carefully un-holstered his gun. "Knives," he said cheerfully, slowly bringing that large pistol upward, "and yes, you can do something for me."
Goku blinked. "What?"
Knives' Insanely Evil Grin widened, and he pointed his weapon at the Saiyan's head. "Die first," he chuckled, and pulled the trigger. There was a loud crack and a puff of smoke, and Knives threw back his head, his laughter chilling the air around him. Slowly opening his eyes, he looked down at his latest extermination of this flawed, pathetic human race.
He stopped laughing quite abruptly.
"Ouch," Goku complained weakly, rubbing a tiny spot on his forehead. A ghost of a frown came to his lips. "Now, that wasn't very nice," he said disapprovingly, shaking his head. "I don't know what's okay where you come from, but here, that's just not polite."
Knives boggled a moment that anyone could call being shot in the head "not polite" and then gained control of himself. His eyes narrowed in concentration, and the top part of the end of his gun shot off, hitting the floor with a solid-sounding clink. The device inside began to glow softly, and many odd and rather ugly faces turned curiously toward the disturbance. It soon shone brightly even in the day-lit restaurant.
The man's Madly Evil Laughter continued as if it had never ceased, and the gun slowly shifted and changed in his hand, spreading up his arm and expanding, the light growing more intense by the moment. Soon, the weapon grew to about thirty times its original size, with long black feathers spreading out behind and the brilliant light breaking through the front of the barrel.
With a final schizophrenic giggle, the gun fired right at Goku, filling the world with a blinding, cleansing white.
After what seemed forever--or at least until next Tuesday--the glow faded from the little restaurant called Ucchan's, and people blinked away the funny stringy thingies and little dots that were floating in front of their eyes. It seemed that the last to turn his head was Knives, who always liked to relish the massive devastation he caused, the pain and suffering he had inflicted on these insects, the--
The little ruffle in Goku's hair.
The man in orange and blue was otherwise untouched. Well, maybe if you looked really, REALLY close, you might see a few spots of dust on the corner of his left boot, but he would probably move by the time you were able to get a magnifying glass big enough to make it out clearly.
"W-what... how...?" was all Knives could gasp, the gun shrinking back to normal size. Goku shook his head sadly, and casually grabbed the Angel Arm and rolled it into a tiny little ball.
"Listen," Goku said reasonably, rolling his new steely in one hand, "I know you're probably pretty strong for most people around here, but... I think you should leave while you can." He smiled and gave a friendly clap on Knives' shoulder, which immediately went limp.
"Try training some more," Goku suggested, "and then maybe next time, you might be able to singe my clothes."
Knives, with a rather large amount of sweat flooding down his neck, decided it was time for a good old-fashioned military maneuver. Anyone who can appreciate Mr. I.M. Superior squeaking like a girly-girl and running for his life say "Aye!"
Owie... There go the ear drums...
***
Ranma had faced many strange challenges in his time.
Haunted dolls, ghosted paintings, reflections that took off out of the mirror all on their own, possessing demons that made people "evil," and oh yeah, there were the insanely powerful martial artists, punctuated by the occasional prince or demi-god. They seemed to track him down just about when he thought he had started to figure the universe out, like telemarketers with access to Yggdrasil.
None, however, were quite as... well, as COLORFUL as this one.
The whole group lined up together in a wedge-shape, kind of like rainbow- colored candles on top of a plastic cake. Only, Ranma guessed there wasn't to much light coming form up top. It became clear after each got into fighting stances Ranma thought he remembered using when he was six, first announcing their name and doing a pose.
"Ah... Ranma?" Akane asked quietly from above him in the air.
"Yeah?"
"Are we SURE these people are martial artists?"
Ranma blinked, and looked up at her. "What else could they be?"
"I don't know. Hey, maybe could be the local cheerleading squad?"
Ranma looked doubtful. "I dunno... How many guys are cheerleaders? 'Cuz I KNOW some of them are guys. Besides, anyone who dresses in that much plastic must be few fish-flakes short of an okonomiyaki. Any other ideas?"
"Nope. All my ideas are kind of up in the air."
Ranma snickered. "Along with everything else?"
Akane scowled and whacked him with the chain. "Har, har, har, baka."
"Ow! Hey, it was only--"
"Hey you!" one of the People in Spandex cut in, pointing at the finacees dramatically. His color was cherry red, and he was obviously the leader, because all classic leaders stood at the center. This reason is for this has long been lost in the recesses of Hero Leadership history, but still persists in some groups today. However, of necessity, this rule was changed in brighter groups due to the frequency of commands like "Aim for the center, boys! We'll be done with this group by lunch time!"
"If you let the girl go," Red continued, making an exaggerated pleading gesture with one hand, "we'll consider being lenient on you."
"First of all," Ranma said evenly, "I ain't the one who put this chain on, and I'd give a lot to have off. Second...." he cracked his loudly, a very nasty grin growing rapidly across his face, "Just who the hell is goin' to have to LENIENT?"
Cherry abruptly crossed his arms. It seemed he was trying to make of for a lack of any facial expression. "In that case, we have not choice but to ERK!"
The man in red spandex cut off abruptly when he discovered that Ranma's foot had somehow implanted itself into his right jugular vein. He managed to roll away as the others scattered, leaping out on all sides and backing away carefully. One of them, the one in banana yellow, managed to help their fallen leader to his feet.
"What kind of horrible villain are you?" she gasped, shocked to the core. "You didn't even let him finish his monologue!"
Akane and Ranma looked at each other and groaned.
"Let's just get this over with, Ranma," Akane sighed. "I've got better things to do than hang around and watch this."
"Hey, no arguments here." In a single bound--made slightly higher than intended by Akane's counter-gravity--Ranma was on them again, with a look on his face like a man sent to do a disgusting job that nobody else would do.
***
"Oh," Genma Saotome winced with a small burst of pride, watching with interest as Ranma began the melee. "That looked rather painful, wouldn't you agree Ten-- TENDO! I only looked away for a moment!"
"What's your point, Saotome?" Tendo said calmly as he reached for the bag of explosive dice. He threw two on the table in front of his friend where, and after each rolled a six, they exploded with twelve deadening bangs and brilliant flashes of light.
"OH, NOTHING!" Genma said loudly, and fumbled a bit until he found and moved his cherry-bomb forward three squares.
"WHAT?" Tendo replied, staring somewhere off to the left of his friend.
"WHAT?" Genma answered, cupping a hand over his ear.
"THAT'S WHAT I ASKED!"
"WHAT?"
"EXACTLY!"
"EXACTLY WHAT?"
"RIGHT!"
"...WHAT?!"
Before the conversation could get any more convoluted, a blurry outline Genma recognized as Nabiki trudged back in the shogi doors.
"All you all right, Nabiki?" Kasumi asked with a concerned frown--at least, that's what Genma THOUGHT it was. "You look a little pail!"
"Sorry," Nabiki sighed, and pointed out at Ranma's kaleidoscopic foes. "There's just something unsettling about that much spandex flying through the air."
Kasumi blinked. "Oh, my..."
Nabiki nodded. "Add the flashing light of all those Mokou Takabishas and all those colors swirling around, it makes an effect like one of those animes that send people into seizures."
Kasumi's frown deepened. "Really?" With an uncommonly determined gleam in her eye, she marched out the open doors and into the brawl that was outside.
***
Outside was a war zone. Only, instead of the usually massive carnage, the large explosions, the sharp wrap of automatic gunfire, and bodies sprawled out everywhere, THIS war zone consisted mostly of five colorblind and fashion-senseless superheroes, an aggravated Master of Anything Goes Martial Arts, and a girl with her gravity on backwards, attached on a chain.
Did we forget anything?
Ah, yes.
And one homemaker.
"Kasumi?" Akane asked, startled. "What are you doing out here?"
Ranma paused mid-throw to stare at his finacee's sister, easily balancing the blue-suited warrior in one outstretched hand. Kasumi's frown was unnervingly stern, and she put her hands firmly on her hips.
"Ranma, Akane," she said chidingly. "Why don't you stop this now? You're making Nabiki feel sick."
Ranma and Akane looked at each other and blinked. That seemed to be their favorite expression that day. "But--" they said together.
"No buts," Kasumi said firmly. "You can do this another time."
Ranma sighed, and slowly lowered his missile to the ground. "Okay, if you say so. But THEY started it..."
Akane looked at Kasumi carefully. "Are you okay, imouto-chan? You acting a little... well, weird."
"Oh ho, NO my friends!" a darn-freakin' all-too-familiar voice erupted, riding over whatever Kasumi had been going to say. "We can't end the fun just yet!"
"Oh, no," Ranma growled, eye twitching. "It's the midget!"
And indeed it was. Who W. Weird stood tall and proud--well, proud in no- longer rumpled and dirtied white suit, and his had looked as his he'd just gotten it dry-cleaned. His mismatched eyes glowed with almost equal fever-- it's hard to match gold, after all-- and he had a new tie; striped red, blue, yellow, pink, and green.
It seemed that he'd taken to coming a bit later in the day. Three cheers for Arulhanana.
Abruptly, Mr. Weird glared in the general direction of the author, displaying a very intricate and rude gesture. "Your mother was a wallaby and your father was a college professor!" he leered, giving the sky the hairy eyeball.
There was a moment of silence, not unlike that of a previous chapter, where the feeling of something really very nasty was about to happen was hanging in the air.
But nothing happened. There wasn't a sound.
Weird grunted with satisfaction. "Knew this was too important a scene for you to mess with, you egg-headed pansy of a--"
The midget suddenly disappeared, winking out as if he'd never been there at all. After several seconds, he reappeared, covered from head to toe in mutated raccoon feces. Almost immediately, he was struck by lightning out of the clear blue sky--repeatedly--and then was run over by a dromedary, a herd of yaks, a horse and carriage, three hippos, a steamroller, and fat lady with an exceptionally bad case of diarrhea.
A single egg fell from the sky, cracking open and sizzling on Weird's face.
There was a pause, and another moment of silence. Slowly, the collectively gathered residents of Tendo-ke, plus a few new spangled neighbors, stared at the remains of the illustrious Agent of Chaos.
"So..." Ranma told Akane slowly. "Who do you think he was talkin' to?"
Akane shook her head, her face a little pail. "Whoever it is, let's make very sure to be very, very nice to him."
Ranma nodded fervently.
So let it be know, ever on to the end of time--or what passes for it in fiction--that characters must NEVER call the author a pansy.
It's kind of rude, after all.
Ranma squinted at the flattened silhouette of his tormentor, wondering if he was dead. Suddenly, though, he though he saw a flicker of movement. Slowly, with great care and pain, Who W. Weird wiggled one smelly finger in the air.
"Darn... author..." the little man croaked, and everyone drew back. "Won't... give up... one more... trick... HATE... dramatic pause... sentences!"
With supreme effort, the little man wiggled his finger into a complicated dance, slightly reminiscent of a belly-dancer walking on mouse traps, and then managed to snap it against his thumb. There was a hollow clanging sound, like someone was trying to play a saxophone using a pitchfork, and a slight rush.
With a blink and a start, Ranma and Akane disappeared.
***
Ranma was used to new and challenging situations.
"No, no, no! We're heading for that building, baka! Turn the OTHER way!"
"AND JUST HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT?"
"Try a lever! ANY LEVER!"
"Oh, NO!"
"AAAAAHHHHHH!" they screamed in unison.
Driving a giant robot was still a little out of his field.
Desperately, Ranma and Akane had pushed all the buttons and pulled all the levers they could find, but all they'd managed to do so far is fire more missiles and lasers. As the skyscraper loomed nearer, Ranma began activating things at Amaguriken speed, causing several mechanisms to flash and pour smoke. Finally, within inches of the building, the many-part robot swerved to one side.
Right at a school building.
"EEEEEEEEEEEE!"
They leap over the school, going off balance and rocking toward a bridge over a bay.
"OOOOOOWWWW!"
They manage to do the limbo under the bridge at the last second, giving those driving on it a rather unsettling view, and make their way farther out into the bay. The tide swings them off balance, leaning perilously over a cruise boat.
"YAAAAAAAAAA!"
Some sort of rocket booster fires from the feet of the tin-can monstrosity, sending them over the large ship. For a few seconds, they flew gracefully through the air, as free as the birds. That is, until the power gave out, and they plummeted downward again, heading right of an abandoned garbage scow.
"Ah, crap," Ranma whines.
There is a sound like several tons of aluminum had fallen from the sky-- which makes sense, since it had--and imbedded itself neck-deep in refuse.
The was a pause.
"Ranma?" Akane asked slowly.
"Yeah?"
"Sometimes, I hate being around you."
Ranma groaned. "That's okay. I hate being around me too."
With that, the top of the robot caved in, covering them in a large amount of rather unpleasant material. That didn't make the two finacees very happy. In fact, one could even say that Ranma and Akane were "in the dumps."
"Author no baka," Ranma groaned, his eyes unfocused his face covered in muck.
Author's notes:
WHEW! This chapter officially first drafted on 8/23/2002 at 11:33 PM. I kind got a little weirder with the last two pages... can't say exactly why... Shall we call it a little to much free time?
By far, this was the longest chapter to finish, especially because I had a long pause while I was on vacation. I hope it paid off, though! Gomen about grammar and other mistakes; my best editor moved away.
I absolutely LOVE any commentary of any kind on stories, so never hesitate to write. It REALLY helps me right new chapters.
There will be AT LEAST three more chapters to come, so stay tuned.
The Chaos will live on, AJ Andreason
Disclaimer: I did not come up the idea to use a disclaimer, and do not own any of the rights associated with such. Oh, and same goes with Ranma 1/2.
Ucchan's was in trouble.
At first, it was the plain and simple fact that Son Goku had never actually cooked anything for himself in his entire life--that is, besides the occasional dinosaur steak, and fish. Lots of big fish. More fish than most men care to see in a lifetime. Tons of the suckers; so many, normal people couldn't even think of it.
Did we happen to mention he likes to fish?
Yes, well anyway. Before long, his deep knowledge of the art of fish began to dry up as orders poured in, ranging everything from Sautéed Portabellos to Rather Odd, Glowing Mutagen to--*shudder*-- Meatloaf. The crowd of hungry wackos might have gotten quite nasty if he and Gohan hadn't been able to convince Vegeta to take over cooking.
"All right, all right!" the Saiyan Prince snapped, stalking over to the counter. "ANYTHING to get you two to stop whining at me! But if you even THINK of trying to get me to wear that stupid apron, I'll blast you into the next dimension!"
Goku smiled reassuringly, immediately crossing his fingers behind his back. "Would I do that to you, Vegeta?"
Vegeta snorted and grabbed a spatula. "You had better not, Kakarot."
Ten minutes more of nagging, and he was wearing a bright pink one with the words "MR. BAD" in yellow surrounded by hearts on the front. The expression he wore would have done battle with Nabiki's best cut-heart-out-one-paper- cut-at-a-time death gaze.
After the surly new chef took over, things got worse. Even though it turned out that Vegeta was an excellent cook, Goku had to constantly stop him from obliterating customers that so much as looked at him. Then there were the problems of stopping Goku from eating out the restaurant, figuring out the prices for the several thousand different menu items, Goku's attempts at being a greeter--people were still nursing broken fingers--and worst of all, more customers pouring in by the moment.
Oh yeah, Goku thought, and then there was the thing with that guy with his big gun.
He had been a tall man, with very pale, short-cut blond hair and hard blue eyes, dressed in strange red and white skin-tight clothing. His black gun had a long, square barrel with the words Colt .44 engraved darkly on its mirror-bright surface, and a single round lay resting in its first chamber. After calmly ordering and eating his meal, the man had slowly stood up and made his way to the counter, where Vegeta was busy arguing with a blue- haired, pointy-eared fellow as to whether one was sent to the next dimension or the Void. It was getting quite spirited, as both men were glowing.
"Can I help you, Mister...?" Goku asked, smiling slightly.
The man looked lazily up at him, and carefully un-holstered his gun. "Knives," he said cheerfully, slowly bringing that large pistol upward, "and yes, you can do something for me."
Goku blinked. "What?"
Knives' Insanely Evil Grin widened, and he pointed his weapon at the Saiyan's head. "Die first," he chuckled, and pulled the trigger. There was a loud crack and a puff of smoke, and Knives threw back his head, his laughter chilling the air around him. Slowly opening his eyes, he looked down at his latest extermination of this flawed, pathetic human race.
He stopped laughing quite abruptly.
"Ouch," Goku complained weakly, rubbing a tiny spot on his forehead. A ghost of a frown came to his lips. "Now, that wasn't very nice," he said disapprovingly, shaking his head. "I don't know what's okay where you come from, but here, that's just not polite."
Knives boggled a moment that anyone could call being shot in the head "not polite" and then gained control of himself. His eyes narrowed in concentration, and the top part of the end of his gun shot off, hitting the floor with a solid-sounding clink. The device inside began to glow softly, and many odd and rather ugly faces turned curiously toward the disturbance. It soon shone brightly even in the day-lit restaurant.
The man's Madly Evil Laughter continued as if it had never ceased, and the gun slowly shifted and changed in his hand, spreading up his arm and expanding, the light growing more intense by the moment. Soon, the weapon grew to about thirty times its original size, with long black feathers spreading out behind and the brilliant light breaking through the front of the barrel.
With a final schizophrenic giggle, the gun fired right at Goku, filling the world with a blinding, cleansing white.
After what seemed forever--or at least until next Tuesday--the glow faded from the little restaurant called Ucchan's, and people blinked away the funny stringy thingies and little dots that were floating in front of their eyes. It seemed that the last to turn his head was Knives, who always liked to relish the massive devastation he caused, the pain and suffering he had inflicted on these insects, the--
The little ruffle in Goku's hair.
The man in orange and blue was otherwise untouched. Well, maybe if you looked really, REALLY close, you might see a few spots of dust on the corner of his left boot, but he would probably move by the time you were able to get a magnifying glass big enough to make it out clearly.
"W-what... how...?" was all Knives could gasp, the gun shrinking back to normal size. Goku shook his head sadly, and casually grabbed the Angel Arm and rolled it into a tiny little ball.
"Listen," Goku said reasonably, rolling his new steely in one hand, "I know you're probably pretty strong for most people around here, but... I think you should leave while you can." He smiled and gave a friendly clap on Knives' shoulder, which immediately went limp.
"Try training some more," Goku suggested, "and then maybe next time, you might be able to singe my clothes."
Knives, with a rather large amount of sweat flooding down his neck, decided it was time for a good old-fashioned military maneuver. Anyone who can appreciate Mr. I.M. Superior squeaking like a girly-girl and running for his life say "Aye!"
Owie... There go the ear drums...
***
Ranma had faced many strange challenges in his time.
Haunted dolls, ghosted paintings, reflections that took off out of the mirror all on their own, possessing demons that made people "evil," and oh yeah, there were the insanely powerful martial artists, punctuated by the occasional prince or demi-god. They seemed to track him down just about when he thought he had started to figure the universe out, like telemarketers with access to Yggdrasil.
None, however, were quite as... well, as COLORFUL as this one.
The whole group lined up together in a wedge-shape, kind of like rainbow- colored candles on top of a plastic cake. Only, Ranma guessed there wasn't to much light coming form up top. It became clear after each got into fighting stances Ranma thought he remembered using when he was six, first announcing their name and doing a pose.
"Ah... Ranma?" Akane asked quietly from above him in the air.
"Yeah?"
"Are we SURE these people are martial artists?"
Ranma blinked, and looked up at her. "What else could they be?"
"I don't know. Hey, maybe could be the local cheerleading squad?"
Ranma looked doubtful. "I dunno... How many guys are cheerleaders? 'Cuz I KNOW some of them are guys. Besides, anyone who dresses in that much plastic must be few fish-flakes short of an okonomiyaki. Any other ideas?"
"Nope. All my ideas are kind of up in the air."
Ranma snickered. "Along with everything else?"
Akane scowled and whacked him with the chain. "Har, har, har, baka."
"Ow! Hey, it was only--"
"Hey you!" one of the People in Spandex cut in, pointing at the finacees dramatically. His color was cherry red, and he was obviously the leader, because all classic leaders stood at the center. This reason is for this has long been lost in the recesses of Hero Leadership history, but still persists in some groups today. However, of necessity, this rule was changed in brighter groups due to the frequency of commands like "Aim for the center, boys! We'll be done with this group by lunch time!"
"If you let the girl go," Red continued, making an exaggerated pleading gesture with one hand, "we'll consider being lenient on you."
"First of all," Ranma said evenly, "I ain't the one who put this chain on, and I'd give a lot to have off. Second...." he cracked his loudly, a very nasty grin growing rapidly across his face, "Just who the hell is goin' to have to LENIENT?"
Cherry abruptly crossed his arms. It seemed he was trying to make of for a lack of any facial expression. "In that case, we have not choice but to ERK!"
The man in red spandex cut off abruptly when he discovered that Ranma's foot had somehow implanted itself into his right jugular vein. He managed to roll away as the others scattered, leaping out on all sides and backing away carefully. One of them, the one in banana yellow, managed to help their fallen leader to his feet.
"What kind of horrible villain are you?" she gasped, shocked to the core. "You didn't even let him finish his monologue!"
Akane and Ranma looked at each other and groaned.
"Let's just get this over with, Ranma," Akane sighed. "I've got better things to do than hang around and watch this."
"Hey, no arguments here." In a single bound--made slightly higher than intended by Akane's counter-gravity--Ranma was on them again, with a look on his face like a man sent to do a disgusting job that nobody else would do.
***
"Oh," Genma Saotome winced with a small burst of pride, watching with interest as Ranma began the melee. "That looked rather painful, wouldn't you agree Ten-- TENDO! I only looked away for a moment!"
"What's your point, Saotome?" Tendo said calmly as he reached for the bag of explosive dice. He threw two on the table in front of his friend where, and after each rolled a six, they exploded with twelve deadening bangs and brilliant flashes of light.
"OH, NOTHING!" Genma said loudly, and fumbled a bit until he found and moved his cherry-bomb forward three squares.
"WHAT?" Tendo replied, staring somewhere off to the left of his friend.
"WHAT?" Genma answered, cupping a hand over his ear.
"THAT'S WHAT I ASKED!"
"WHAT?"
"EXACTLY!"
"EXACTLY WHAT?"
"RIGHT!"
"...WHAT?!"
Before the conversation could get any more convoluted, a blurry outline Genma recognized as Nabiki trudged back in the shogi doors.
"All you all right, Nabiki?" Kasumi asked with a concerned frown--at least, that's what Genma THOUGHT it was. "You look a little pail!"
"Sorry," Nabiki sighed, and pointed out at Ranma's kaleidoscopic foes. "There's just something unsettling about that much spandex flying through the air."
Kasumi blinked. "Oh, my..."
Nabiki nodded. "Add the flashing light of all those Mokou Takabishas and all those colors swirling around, it makes an effect like one of those animes that send people into seizures."
Kasumi's frown deepened. "Really?" With an uncommonly determined gleam in her eye, she marched out the open doors and into the brawl that was outside.
***
Outside was a war zone. Only, instead of the usually massive carnage, the large explosions, the sharp wrap of automatic gunfire, and bodies sprawled out everywhere, THIS war zone consisted mostly of five colorblind and fashion-senseless superheroes, an aggravated Master of Anything Goes Martial Arts, and a girl with her gravity on backwards, attached on a chain.
Did we forget anything?
Ah, yes.
And one homemaker.
"Kasumi?" Akane asked, startled. "What are you doing out here?"
Ranma paused mid-throw to stare at his finacee's sister, easily balancing the blue-suited warrior in one outstretched hand. Kasumi's frown was unnervingly stern, and she put her hands firmly on her hips.
"Ranma, Akane," she said chidingly. "Why don't you stop this now? You're making Nabiki feel sick."
Ranma and Akane looked at each other and blinked. That seemed to be their favorite expression that day. "But--" they said together.
"No buts," Kasumi said firmly. "You can do this another time."
Ranma sighed, and slowly lowered his missile to the ground. "Okay, if you say so. But THEY started it..."
Akane looked at Kasumi carefully. "Are you okay, imouto-chan? You acting a little... well, weird."
"Oh ho, NO my friends!" a darn-freakin' all-too-familiar voice erupted, riding over whatever Kasumi had been going to say. "We can't end the fun just yet!"
"Oh, no," Ranma growled, eye twitching. "It's the midget!"
And indeed it was. Who W. Weird stood tall and proud--well, proud in no- longer rumpled and dirtied white suit, and his had looked as his he'd just gotten it dry-cleaned. His mismatched eyes glowed with almost equal fever-- it's hard to match gold, after all-- and he had a new tie; striped red, blue, yellow, pink, and green.
It seemed that he'd taken to coming a bit later in the day. Three cheers for Arulhanana.
Abruptly, Mr. Weird glared in the general direction of the author, displaying a very intricate and rude gesture. "Your mother was a wallaby and your father was a college professor!" he leered, giving the sky the hairy eyeball.
There was a moment of silence, not unlike that of a previous chapter, where the feeling of something really very nasty was about to happen was hanging in the air.
But nothing happened. There wasn't a sound.
Weird grunted with satisfaction. "Knew this was too important a scene for you to mess with, you egg-headed pansy of a--"
The midget suddenly disappeared, winking out as if he'd never been there at all. After several seconds, he reappeared, covered from head to toe in mutated raccoon feces. Almost immediately, he was struck by lightning out of the clear blue sky--repeatedly--and then was run over by a dromedary, a herd of yaks, a horse and carriage, three hippos, a steamroller, and fat lady with an exceptionally bad case of diarrhea.
A single egg fell from the sky, cracking open and sizzling on Weird's face.
There was a pause, and another moment of silence. Slowly, the collectively gathered residents of Tendo-ke, plus a few new spangled neighbors, stared at the remains of the illustrious Agent of Chaos.
"So..." Ranma told Akane slowly. "Who do you think he was talkin' to?"
Akane shook her head, her face a little pail. "Whoever it is, let's make very sure to be very, very nice to him."
Ranma nodded fervently.
So let it be know, ever on to the end of time--or what passes for it in fiction--that characters must NEVER call the author a pansy.
It's kind of rude, after all.
Ranma squinted at the flattened silhouette of his tormentor, wondering if he was dead. Suddenly, though, he though he saw a flicker of movement. Slowly, with great care and pain, Who W. Weird wiggled one smelly finger in the air.
"Darn... author..." the little man croaked, and everyone drew back. "Won't... give up... one more... trick... HATE... dramatic pause... sentences!"
With supreme effort, the little man wiggled his finger into a complicated dance, slightly reminiscent of a belly-dancer walking on mouse traps, and then managed to snap it against his thumb. There was a hollow clanging sound, like someone was trying to play a saxophone using a pitchfork, and a slight rush.
With a blink and a start, Ranma and Akane disappeared.
***
Ranma was used to new and challenging situations.
"No, no, no! We're heading for that building, baka! Turn the OTHER way!"
"AND JUST HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT?"
"Try a lever! ANY LEVER!"
"Oh, NO!"
"AAAAAHHHHHH!" they screamed in unison.
Driving a giant robot was still a little out of his field.
Desperately, Ranma and Akane had pushed all the buttons and pulled all the levers they could find, but all they'd managed to do so far is fire more missiles and lasers. As the skyscraper loomed nearer, Ranma began activating things at Amaguriken speed, causing several mechanisms to flash and pour smoke. Finally, within inches of the building, the many-part robot swerved to one side.
Right at a school building.
"EEEEEEEEEEEE!"
They leap over the school, going off balance and rocking toward a bridge over a bay.
"OOOOOOWWWW!"
They manage to do the limbo under the bridge at the last second, giving those driving on it a rather unsettling view, and make their way farther out into the bay. The tide swings them off balance, leaning perilously over a cruise boat.
"YAAAAAAAAAA!"
Some sort of rocket booster fires from the feet of the tin-can monstrosity, sending them over the large ship. For a few seconds, they flew gracefully through the air, as free as the birds. That is, until the power gave out, and they plummeted downward again, heading right of an abandoned garbage scow.
"Ah, crap," Ranma whines.
There is a sound like several tons of aluminum had fallen from the sky-- which makes sense, since it had--and imbedded itself neck-deep in refuse.
The was a pause.
"Ranma?" Akane asked slowly.
"Yeah?"
"Sometimes, I hate being around you."
Ranma groaned. "That's okay. I hate being around me too."
With that, the top of the robot caved in, covering them in a large amount of rather unpleasant material. That didn't make the two finacees very happy. In fact, one could even say that Ranma and Akane were "in the dumps."
"Author no baka," Ranma groaned, his eyes unfocused his face covered in muck.
Author's notes:
WHEW! This chapter officially first drafted on 8/23/2002 at 11:33 PM. I kind got a little weirder with the last two pages... can't say exactly why... Shall we call it a little to much free time?
By far, this was the longest chapter to finish, especially because I had a long pause while I was on vacation. I hope it paid off, though! Gomen about grammar and other mistakes; my best editor moved away.
I absolutely LOVE any commentary of any kind on stories, so never hesitate to write. It REALLY helps me right new chapters.
There will be AT LEAST three more chapters to come, so stay tuned.
The Chaos will live on, AJ Andreason