Choices Made, Roads Taken.
Chapter 6: Changing Viewpoints
What has gone before: Jeff (with help from Kasumi) has saved Ranma from the 'man among men' seppuku pledge. Ranma decides to leave Japan with Jeff for a while so he can make some hard choices about what he wants to do with his life. All the goodbyes have been said, so it's time to go to America.
-----
The farther they got from Nerima, the lighter the rain became. By the time they reached Narita International Airport, it had stopped completely. By the time their flight to Seattle left the ground, the sun was shining once more. By the time it reached cruising altitude, Jeff was fast asleep.
Ranma listened to a 'Learn English Now!' disc that Jeff had picked up at the airport. It bored him senseless until he started figuring out the elements of a kata that could be done to it. 'Martial Arts Linguistics strikes again,' he thought before restarting the disc. Words and phrases were blows and blocks, grammar was the changes in body position required to make the blows flow together. Since Jeff was asleep, he stuck with it until the in-flight meal.
"Jeff... Jeff... Jeff... Wake up dammit," Ranma said while giving the sleeping man's shoulder a shake.
Jeff bolted upright, bounced off his seat belt and fell back into his reclined seat. There was the sound of a woman laughing. "Huh-wha-huh?"
"The stewardess wants to know if you want anything to eat," Ranma stated, waving his hands in her general direction.
"Ranma, from here on out, English only. The best way to learn it is to use it," Jeff answered in that language.
"I try. You want food?" Ranma responded in the same language.
Jeff leaned forward so he could address the stewardess himself. "What are my choices?"
"We have Chicken Marsala with Glazed Carrots, Peppercorn Beef with Herb Potatoes and Broiled Mackerel with Pickled Vegetables," the stewardess replied. Her English sounded more British than American, but she spoke it well.
Not selections that Jeff had expected on a flight from Japan, but because this _was_ an airline, he prepared for the worst. "I'll have the Chicken Marsala."
"What would you like to drink?" the petite brunette asked. "We have a wide selection."
"A large bottle of water will be fine."
"Very well, and you sir?"
There was an awkward pause before Ranma figured out that she meant him. "Me? Mackerel please. With hot tea."
"Your food will arrive shortly." The busy woman then turned across the aisle and took the next set of orders.
Jeff pulled his chair upright, unbuckled his seat belt and stretched as hard as he could in the restricted space. He excused himself to the bathroom, and by the time he returned, his food was waiting for him. Ranma was well into his own meal. The chicken was better than expected, but after a couple bites, he gave up on the carrots. To him, if a glazed carrot cooled off, it was no good.
Ranma waited until Jeff had finished eating before speaking. "Thank you," he began.
"For what?" Jeff asked.
Ranma thought about it before answering. For saving his life? For giving him the chance to get his life in order? For paying off his debt to Nabiki? 'I'll have to make that one up to him.' For being a friend even though Ranma couldn't recall doing anything to deserve it? "Everything," he finally said.
"You're welcome. Now excuse me, but I haven't got nearly enough sleep this week. Wake me up when we're ready to land," Jeff responded before reclining his seat again. He was asleep within minutes.
Ranma understood about half of what Jeff had said. But it was obvious that Jeff wanted to sleep, so Ranma let him. Ranma was too excited to sleep. He'd been airborne before, but never in an airplane. It was an interesting experience. Since Jeff was reclined, Ranma could see out the window. The sky was such a deep blue, it was nearly black. He could see some wispy clouds that they were flying above. There may have been some specks of land below that, but he couldn't be sure.
Ranma found himself with a chance to relax, so he did. By not paying attention to anything, he was able to take in everything. People talking and eating. Computer keys clicking. A whisper of music leaking from the headset of someone watching the in-flight movie. All this and, from the first class compartment, the sound of an argument. Ranma ignored the raised voices until there was a crash of glass and a woman's scream.
Reflexes took over. Ranma was out of his seat and halfway up the aisle before he even noticed. Jeff was three steps behind him despite being asleep when the noise occurred. Ranma brushed past the magic curtain of first class and took in the scene with a glance.
Beverage cart overturned, a couple of miniature bottles broken. A man: Presumably American, middle aged, overweight, balding and drunk. Stewardess: Japanese, mid twenties, in shock, with blood seeping from a row of puncture wounds on her left forearm. Detail: A fork, held in the man's right hand, jabbing forward.
Despite having much farther to go than the fork, Ranma grabbed the drunken man's wrist before he could inflict another wound on the waitress. The beefy man tried to move his arm but couldn't. Finding his left arm still available, he attempted to slug Ranma. He was maybe two inches into his swing when Ranma casually rendered him unconscious with a back fist. The man slumped back into his leather chair.
"Good job," Jeff said from the edge of first class.
"Martial artist duty to protect," Ranma replied.
'A hero's too,' Jeff thought to himself before searching for a first aid kit.
-----
"A little antibiotic ointment when you change bandages and you should be fine," Jeff told the stewardess as he finished treating the minor wounds.
"Thank you very much Mister..." the woman paused.
"Anderson."
"Mister Anderson, and you as well Mister..."
"Saotome. Saotome Ranma."
"Thank you as well Mister Saotome."
Ranma thought it odd to be referred to as Mister Saotome. 'That should be Pops, not me.' It bothered him somewhat. Ranma was so distracted that he didn't notice that the stewardess kissing him on the cheek until after it was all over. Remembering what Kodachi did after he saved her from a fall, Ranma's mind shut down after contemplating the woman in front of him doing something similar. He fainted on the spot.
Jeff picked Ranma up and set him in an empty chair. "You'll have to forgive him. He's been under a lot of stress lately."
-----
The plane diverted to Anchorage to turn over the unruly passenger to a couple of no-nonsense Federal Sky Marshals. Ranma and Jeff both went over what happened several times. It took way too long by Jeff's standards. But at least the two were upgraded to first class for the rest of the flight.
The delay was enough for them to miss their connecting flight. Because of the time change, it was now 3:00 AM the same morning they left. Jeff had done his fair share of traveling, jet lag was no stranger to him. For Ranma, it was a new experience. Having seen the sun come up, go down and it still end up the same day was strange.
The two went through Customs. There was a brief hold-up while Ranma's student visa was checked. Ranma didn't understand the delay and Jeff, as his temporary legal guardian, explained it to him. There were also more questions about the incident on the way over. Jeff had to slip back into Japanese to counsel Ranma to be patient. Ranma, who had traveled between countries for his entire life without worrying about such things as passports and visas, was less than happy with all the waiting.
Eventually, the two and their luggage were cleared, and they proceeded into the main part of Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Jeff preferred it over LAX. There was a much lower chance of running into a meta-human battle in Washington.
After getting their flight changed and finding they had at least an hour to kill, Jeff bought some drastically overpriced airport food and the two sat down and talked. Jeff was impressed with the speed in which Ranma was picking up English. He wasn't sure how Ranma was doing it though.
Their new flight had a stop at Chicago O'Hare, so it was more than eight hours before the two touched down at La Guardia. Since it was a domestic flight, they simply gathered their limited luggage and took a taxi into Manhattan. The wait at the Queensboro bridge was only half an hour, which was pretty good considering that it was getting close to the end of the work day.
Forward progress slowed the closer they got to Chelsea. Myrmidon fighting Base and Zapper, Jeff would later learn. Eventually, Jeff paid off the cabbie with a decent tip and the two walked the last kilometer to Jeff's building. The two ended up in front of a modest 12 story residential building.
"You live here?" Ranma asked.
"Yep," Jeff replied as he thought about his home. If it weren't for rent controls, Jeff knew that he'd never been able to afford to live there. He knew people paid over $3000 a month to live in comparable apartments on the same block. He'd beaten out several other possible tenants by offering a contract to repair the 11th story apartment and the penthouse directly above at his own expense. The damage had been caused during Strike Force Alpha's battle with the Fear Factory.
Thus the rent was a ridiculously cheap $947.85 a month after the landlord signed off on the completed work. What the landlord didn't know was that when Jeff, Anne and his friends did the job, they'd built a narrow shaft that led to the roof among other things. The repairs hadn't been difficult. FreeFall worked construction in his civilian identity and had helped immensely. Jeff and Anne had done similar work themselves while building their 'summer retreat' in Canada the prior year.
In fact, they'd been back from their annual Canada trip for only two weeks when Kasumi called to start the trip Jeff was just now returning from. Jeff had been tempted to take Ranma to Manitoba instead, but decided he needed to be in Manhattan to catch up on the money making part of his life.
Ranma interrupted Jeff's reminiscence. "Problem?"
"No," Jeff replied. "Just glad to be home."
"Not home yet," Ranma observed before yawning. Despite a nap on the flight from Chicago, Ranma was getting tired. Jeff had slept much of the trip and was annoyingly wide awake.
"I can fix that," Jeff answered as he used his key on the front entrance. Since the stairwell was for fire use only, Jeff led Ranma to the elevator. Soon the two stood in front of a door marked 1104 and as Jeff unlocked the second deadbolt, the door was opened by Jeff's wife.
To Ranma, Anne looked to be an attractive woman Jeff's age. About the same height as Kasumi, she had a slightly larger, more muscular build than the eldest Tendo daughter. Her straight black hair fell loosely past her shoulders and a she wore a smile on her oval shaped face. She was dressed in a red T-shirt and purple sweat pants with a pair of flats.
To Jeff, she looked like home.
Ranma reflexively started to pull off his slippers before remembering that most Americans wore shoes all the time. The fact there were no storage boxes or guest slippers was a clue as well.
Jeff introduced the two. "Anne meet Ranma. Ranma meet the mother of my child, my far better half and someone who married me even though she probably shouldn't have, my wife Anne." He reached out and drew her in for a brief kiss. It would have been longer, but there was company present.
Ranma missed most of want Jeff said, but he figured out the important part of it. Bowing, he said, "Thank you for taking me into your home Anderson-san."
Her smile brightened even more. "Please, call me Anne. And don't believe everything my husband tells you." She led Ranma to the living room couch. In front of the couch was a playpen containing a supply of colorful toys and a seven month old who was smashing two plastic rings together.
"That's my boy!" Jeff called from behind Ranma. Jeff picked up his son from the playpen and bounced him up and down for a moment. "How's my little man? How's my little man?" Jeff asked the infant with a silly voice while lifting him towards the ceiling. Suddenly, Jeff wrinkled his nose. "Ooh. My little man needs a new diaper," he stated in closer to normal tones.
Ranma, exhausted and jet lagged, fell asleep before the diaper change was finished.
-----
Ranma awoke to find a light blanket draped over him. It was very quiet except for some sounds coming from his left. Looking over, he saw Anne, dressed similarly to last night, standing at the sink, washing dishes.
She noticed Ranma stir and asked, "Would you like some breakfast?"
Food, being very important in the life of Ranma Saotome, was an area he'd concentrated on when using Martial Arts Linguistics to learn English. "Yes please." The 'please' was because one of the decisions that Ranma had come to as a result of his near death experience was a determination to be more polite. It hadn't been easy, but it seemed to be paying off.
"How do you want your eggs?"
Ranma didn't know the words for 'over easy', so he just said "Ahh..." and flipped his hand over. Anne seemed to understand him and quickly started breakfast.
After asking about, locating and using the bathroom, Ranma sat at the small kitchen table and looked at what Anne expected him to eat. Four eggs over easy, two large sausage patties, two slices of wheat toast with butter and jelly set out, a tall glass of orange juice and a large mug of hot water with two tea bags. "Jeff eat this much?"
"Everything but the tea," Anne answered. "Back when he was still 'active', he ate more, but he's slowed down since."
"Where is Jeff?" Ranma asked while starting in on the food set in front of him. Not up to Kasumi's or Ukyo's standards, but good enough.
"Working." A more detailed description tried and failed to make it past the language barrier. Jeff was taking care of things he'd let slide while rescuing Ranma.
The two talked for most of the morning while Anne helped Ranma get settled. While Jeff had been gone, she'd converted the workout room into a guest bedroom. The weights and disassembled workout gear were piled in the bottom of the closet. A new futon-couch was against one wall. A simple wooden desk and roller chair competed for space with a chest of drawers along the wall opposite. There was enough space left over for Ranma to engage in some restricted calisthenics or stationary katas. At least with the futon in couch form. The ceiling was about three and a half meters. Barely enough height for jumping jacks, but it would do.
When asked, Ranma demonstrated his curse to Anne. Like her husband, she didn't react much. Turned out she'd seen stranger things in the four years she had known Jeff, not to mention the year and a half they'd been married. It felt strange to have his curse accepted so calmly by someone he'd just met. Strange, but good. He used hot water straight from the tap to transform back. No waiting for a kettle to boil here.
The day went quietly. Ranma worked on his English. After lunch, because it was a bright, sunny autumn day, Anne took Lil' Bill and Ranma to Chelsea Park for a couple hours. Ranma was glad for a chance to stretch his legs. He also wanted a look around the city he found himself in. Manhattan was crowded like Tokyo, but not as clean. Nor as friendly. Most people kept very much to themselves. There were bars over all the windows less than five stories off the ground. He spotted a woman flying high over head. She hovered briefly over the park and vanished as Ranma watched.
"Don't worry, she's one of ours," Anne told Ranma when he asked about it.
They returned to the apartment and Anne suggested that he write a letter home. Ranma agreed and sat down at his desk to do so, but then wondered exactly who 'home' was. He still hadn't come up with an answer by the time Jeff knocked on his door.
"Ranma, you feeling all right?" Jeff looked sharp in a gray pinstripe suit, even with his collar undone. Ranma had never seen him dressed this way before. Was this the 'real' Jeff?
"I feel... fine," Ranma answered.
"You ready for a long talk about what you're going to be doing while you're here?"
"Not really," Ranma admitted. "Best to do anyway."
"Well then, let's talk," Jeff said, sitting down on the futon couch.
Ranma had expected something like this. Jeff had come halfway around the world to save his life. He'd gone through a lot of trouble to get Ranma out of Japan on a student visa. He'd even paid off his debts to Nabiki. It was now time to see what Jeff wanted in return. Ranma was willing to pay the price. His sense of honor demanded that he try his best to balance the slate between them.
"First off, let me tell you that what happens next is pretty much up to you. I can arrange for you to attend a local high school and you can really be a foreign exchange student. No strings. You go to school like a normal guy, and lead as normal a life as you can for a while. Once you've got yourself together, you can go back to Japan and that will be that."
Ranma knew he couldn't do 'normal'. His life just didn't work that way. "What are... choices?"
"Me and Anne can tutor you here. Anne would handle reading, history and English. I would handle math, science and other things. Either way, you will work on your education. I owe that much to you and your parents for dragging you over here."
"You not drag, I come because I want to come. But what I need school for? That not help martial arts."
"The other things include my former job. But why on Earth would you think a martial artist doesn't need an education?"
"What I need know math for? Can count punches now."
That started a discussion on the merits of scholarship. If Ranma expected to run a dojo, and he did, someday, he'd have to know enough math to keep the books, set prices for lessons, and make enough of a profit to support himself and any family he had. Jeff tore Ranma's arguments apart like tissue paper, even though he repeatedly slipped into Japanese to explain things that Ranma didn't have the vocabulary for yet.
"Or you could just let Nabiki handle all that for you and not have a yen to your name as long as you live," Jeff finished.
"All right, you win," Ranma said in surrender. "You have all answers."
"Not all of them, just the easy ones. Now where was I? Oh yeah, my former profession. If you want, you could get into that. You've already got the physical skills for the job. I can teach you some of the non-physical things."
"Like..."
"Rules of Engagement. Evidence Collection. Secret Identities. Spookers. Dealing with the public, the press, the police and other problems. All the stuff I had to figure out the hard way when I started doing this."
"You really think I can be super hero?"
"Ranma, I think you can be any damn thing you really want. All you need is the chance."
"Thank you."
"I won't lie. It's a dangerous job. You could get killed. I've seen it happen. Hell, it happened to Fastball. People you've never met will hate you, while others will worship you. You could end up fighting things that make Ryoga look like a walk in the park. And I flat guarantee you: You will see things you wish you hadn't."
"Already done that," Ranma said thinking of his mother staring at the edge of the Saotome clan sword.
"Doesn't surprise me."
"So why? If job is so bad, why do it?" Ranma asked.
"Because it needs to be done. If you have the ability, you have the responsibility."
"Then why did you stop?"
"I haven't stopped, I just changed the way I do things. I moved from a more active role to a support role. From working in the public eye to working behind the scenes. There are days I do more good for the world in my workshop or at a computer keyboard than I ever managed to do by punching someone."
"I'm not smart like you. I'm better off punching," Ranma said self deprecatingly.
"You're smarter than you let on. Heck, I'll even prove it to you," Jeff said waving his hands. "Say your fighting someone who can block or dodge ninety six percent of your punches."
"Like Cologne?"
"Doesn't matter who. You also know it'll take 14 hits to knock this person out. How many punches should you expect to throw?"
Ranma's hands blurred into motion. "Three hundred fifty," Ranma answered after making 14 phantom punches in under two seconds.
"Bingo. Next question: What's 28 divided by 8%?"
Ranma picked up a pen from his desk and worked on the problem. Thirty seconds later he said dejectedly, "Three hundred fifty."
"Yep. The first question was associated with fighting, so you answered it easily. I'll even bet you were counting by twenty fives when you where throwing those punches."
"Yes," Ranma admitted, surprised by Jeff's insight.
"The second question was straight math. So you figured it out like a math problem."
"It was math problem."
"Ranma, 28 is twice 14, 8% is twice 4%. If I take a number and divide by another number, I get an answer. If I double the number and double what I'm dividing by, I get the same answer. I know you're not stupid because you got the first answer. What you're missing is the ability to apply your fighting skills to something more abstract," Jeff explained in Japanese.
The little light bulb flashed on in Ranma's head. "No I am not," he suddenly said in English.
Unlike most of the people he knew, Jeff didn't start an argument at this point. He simply said, "Explain."
"Is how I learn English. I make up katas from English lessons. I do same thing with disc you buy at airport. I do in my head." Ranma leapt from his chair and dropped into a ready stance. 'A' was a rising punch, 'B' a block, 'C' a double punch from left to right, 'D' a double punch right to left. Ranma continued with the alphabet while Jeff watched with keen interest.
Once Ranma was finished with that and a few other katas, Jeff commented, "Ranma, you're a genius. Don't ever try to tell me you're stupid again because I won't believe you."
"There many things I not know," Ranma protested.
"You're confusing _knowledge_ with _intelligence_. Knowledge is what you know, intelligence is how well you figure things out. Trust me, coming up with 'Martial Arts English' was brilliant."
At this point, Anne dragged both of them to the dinner table. She served an herb chicken in gravy over a bed of three colored pasta with mashed potatoes and green beans. Ranma figured his diet would be including a lot more protein than he was used to. Kasumi wouldn't have used that much meat for two meals while cooking for six people.
"You do any cooking Ranma?" Anne asked after clearing the dishes.
"Some. I cook better than Pops, lots better than Akane. Make good salad."
"You can make a salad for lunch tomorrow then," Anne answered.
"You two can eat the rabbit food if you want. If I'm here, I'll have a ham sandwich," Jeff put in.
"Carnivore," Anne retorted.
"And proud of it," Jeff shot back.
-----
Let it be said that Ranma Saotome is not stupid. Anyone who learns esoteric martial arts as quickly as he does isn't dumb. By consciously applying his martial arts skills to his academic studies, Ranma underwent an intellectual blooming. Many of the basic concepts that he simply missed during his training journeys were being learned now. Learned, integrated with his growing store of knowledge and applied to learn even more.
Ranma went from being functionally illiterate in English to reading at an eighth grade level in three weeks. His math skills shot up almost as dramatically. He showed a flair for human anatomy that he thanked Tofu-sensei for. The works of Larry Gonick proved quite helpful for the basics of World and US History, Statistics, Physics and Genetics. The various 'learning katas' he'd come up with kept his body in shape. Although he would have liked to spar more. Jeff wasn't much competition those few times Ranma talked him into it.
The fact that he was getting all the sleep he needed didn't hurt either. Whereas Jeff functioned best on eight hours sleep and Anne did fine with just over six, Ranma slept more than ten hours a night the first two weeks he spent in the Anderson household. Until coming to America, Ranma had almost never been allowed to sleep in. Either his father would wake him up to spar, or he'd have to get up for school, or someone would attack and he'd have to get up to fight them. It was amazing how much more focused he could be just from getting all the rest he needed. He tapered off to eight and a half hours after a month.
Ranma did more than work on his education. He went to a Broadway show and two football games. He toured a few museums. He met several people at Anne's 21st birthday party. They included two police officers, a bicycle messenger, a lawyer, some coeds and Anne's father. They all seemed perfectly normal. He'd even been there when Lil' Bill pulled himself upright and stood unassisted for the first time.
Water still managed to find him on occasions when he didn't want it to, but not nearly as often as in Nerima. He'd caught a couple of purse snatchers, broken up a mugging and beat the living snot out of a pimp who had struck one of his girls in Ranma's presence. He'd also been watching the news carefully for anything on the city's meta-human population.
It seemed there were minor incidents daily and at least one major battle per week. So far he hadn't got involved in anything directly, but he and Jeff had helped with the aftermath of one fight. The damage level was at least as bad as a duel with Ryoga. Worse if you considered the innocents hurt. There had been no deaths, but one man would never walk again.
-----
Jeff noticed that Ranma's rapid progress finally slowed after six weeks. He was more than satisfied with the results. As a reward, Jeff took Ranma with him to his hanger/workshop/office at Teterboro Airport the Sunday before Thanksgiving.
"So what did you want to show me anyway?" Ranma asked as Jeff ushered him into his office. There was a large sign on the office door.
ANDERSON COMPUTING SOLUTIONS
ANDERSON CUSTOM DESIGN
ONE OFF PRODUCTIONS OF TETERBORO
SEARCH AND RESCUE OF TETERBORO Ltd.
ALL RECORDING DEVICES PROHIBITED
"A couple things. I thought I'd give you your first flying lesson."
"You want me to fly your plane?" Ranma had been up in the Maule once while Jeff dragged banners in circles over the nearby Meadowlands sports complex as a paid favor for one of his pilot friends. He hadn't really enjoyed it.
Jeff used a key to open a door marked PRIVATE and led Ranma into his workshop. He said, "Hell no. I want you to fly that." Jeff pointed to something Ranma had only seen glimpses of as they flew over the city. A MATRIX hoversled. Ranma examined the device carefully.
It was about a meter and a half long, just under a meter wide and about 30 centimeters thick. Four metal jacks held it a hand's breadth off the ground. An adjustable height bicycle seat was the only thing to sit on. Foot wells were slightly recessed into the top. The control yoke was simple enough, the central panel was dominated by a flat computer screen flanked by a variety of indicator lights. A windshield covered the front of the craft. It was tall enough to crouch behind and short enough to stand over. Two posts, a with net of bungee cords strung between them, served to hold loose cargo.
"Cool," Ranma whispered.
Jeff spent half an hour going over the basics. Any yellow light meant land within five minutes, any red light meant land immediately. To go up, pull back on the yoke, to go down, push forward. Right hand throttle controls forward speed. The most important thing, Stopping Takes Time. For an emergency stop, pop the gyros using the red switch by the left thumb, haul back on the control yoke and pray.
"That last part sounds dangerous," Ranma noted. Not that danger worried him.
"There's only so much I can do without driving the price beyond what MATRIX can pay. I could do better, but I can't afford two million bucks for anti grav units."
"Anti grav units?" Ranma had never heard of such things.
"Daedelus Foundation makes them or maybe just sells them. I've never been sure which. Theoretically, the government restricts their use, but it's an open secret they can be bought for the right price."
"How do they work?"
"I don't know. Applied experimental physics isn't my area of expertise."
"I thought you had all answers."
"I keep telling you, just the easy ones."
Jeff set governors to limit the hoverseld's speed and had Ranma take it once around the hanger. Ranma moved as stately as a cruise ship through calm water. But slower. Jeff eased up on the overrides and sent him around again. Ranma had near perfect balance. Jeff thought he could fly a hoversled even if the gyros went out on him. Ranma was grinning like a canary filled cat by the time Jeff called him back to ground.
"Well I think that one's ready to go. I'll take it over tomorrow."
"What else?" Ranma recalled that Jeff had said 'a couple things'.
"Ah, you remembered." Jeff walked over to a tarp and pulled it off with a flourish.
"A model airplane?" After the hoversled, it was a major let down.
"Not _just_ a model airplane. This is a working model of a tilt turbine craft that I hope to have built full size in the next four years. Bell Helicopter has one style of civilian tilt rotor available for sale. One. Mine will kick its ass if I can get it built. It'll be faster, roomier, and cost less. I've already got five patents on it and more being researched. If I can keep the price down, it'll replace the medivac helicopter completely."
Ranma tried to dredge up some enthusiasm, but failed. Despite Jeff's pride, all he saw was a model airplane. "Can I deliver the hoversled with you?" he asked.
"So, you want to see what a superhero's secret headquarters looks like?" Jeff asked back. Jeff had planned to offer Ranma a tour sooner or later. If Ranma did choose the life of a superhero, Jeff felt that Ranma's abilities were more suited to a team than a solo career.
"Sure," Ranma replied. If he chose to be a superhero, he wanted as much information going in as he could get. Even if he wasn't a team player and would most likely work alone.
"Follow me."
END CHAPTER 6
Chapter 6: Changing Viewpoints
What has gone before: Jeff (with help from Kasumi) has saved Ranma from the 'man among men' seppuku pledge. Ranma decides to leave Japan with Jeff for a while so he can make some hard choices about what he wants to do with his life. All the goodbyes have been said, so it's time to go to America.
-----
The farther they got from Nerima, the lighter the rain became. By the time they reached Narita International Airport, it had stopped completely. By the time their flight to Seattle left the ground, the sun was shining once more. By the time it reached cruising altitude, Jeff was fast asleep.
Ranma listened to a 'Learn English Now!' disc that Jeff had picked up at the airport. It bored him senseless until he started figuring out the elements of a kata that could be done to it. 'Martial Arts Linguistics strikes again,' he thought before restarting the disc. Words and phrases were blows and blocks, grammar was the changes in body position required to make the blows flow together. Since Jeff was asleep, he stuck with it until the in-flight meal.
"Jeff... Jeff... Jeff... Wake up dammit," Ranma said while giving the sleeping man's shoulder a shake.
Jeff bolted upright, bounced off his seat belt and fell back into his reclined seat. There was the sound of a woman laughing. "Huh-wha-huh?"
"The stewardess wants to know if you want anything to eat," Ranma stated, waving his hands in her general direction.
"Ranma, from here on out, English only. The best way to learn it is to use it," Jeff answered in that language.
"I try. You want food?" Ranma responded in the same language.
Jeff leaned forward so he could address the stewardess himself. "What are my choices?"
"We have Chicken Marsala with Glazed Carrots, Peppercorn Beef with Herb Potatoes and Broiled Mackerel with Pickled Vegetables," the stewardess replied. Her English sounded more British than American, but she spoke it well.
Not selections that Jeff had expected on a flight from Japan, but because this _was_ an airline, he prepared for the worst. "I'll have the Chicken Marsala."
"What would you like to drink?" the petite brunette asked. "We have a wide selection."
"A large bottle of water will be fine."
"Very well, and you sir?"
There was an awkward pause before Ranma figured out that she meant him. "Me? Mackerel please. With hot tea."
"Your food will arrive shortly." The busy woman then turned across the aisle and took the next set of orders.
Jeff pulled his chair upright, unbuckled his seat belt and stretched as hard as he could in the restricted space. He excused himself to the bathroom, and by the time he returned, his food was waiting for him. Ranma was well into his own meal. The chicken was better than expected, but after a couple bites, he gave up on the carrots. To him, if a glazed carrot cooled off, it was no good.
Ranma waited until Jeff had finished eating before speaking. "Thank you," he began.
"For what?" Jeff asked.
Ranma thought about it before answering. For saving his life? For giving him the chance to get his life in order? For paying off his debt to Nabiki? 'I'll have to make that one up to him.' For being a friend even though Ranma couldn't recall doing anything to deserve it? "Everything," he finally said.
"You're welcome. Now excuse me, but I haven't got nearly enough sleep this week. Wake me up when we're ready to land," Jeff responded before reclining his seat again. He was asleep within minutes.
Ranma understood about half of what Jeff had said. But it was obvious that Jeff wanted to sleep, so Ranma let him. Ranma was too excited to sleep. He'd been airborne before, but never in an airplane. It was an interesting experience. Since Jeff was reclined, Ranma could see out the window. The sky was such a deep blue, it was nearly black. He could see some wispy clouds that they were flying above. There may have been some specks of land below that, but he couldn't be sure.
Ranma found himself with a chance to relax, so he did. By not paying attention to anything, he was able to take in everything. People talking and eating. Computer keys clicking. A whisper of music leaking from the headset of someone watching the in-flight movie. All this and, from the first class compartment, the sound of an argument. Ranma ignored the raised voices until there was a crash of glass and a woman's scream.
Reflexes took over. Ranma was out of his seat and halfway up the aisle before he even noticed. Jeff was three steps behind him despite being asleep when the noise occurred. Ranma brushed past the magic curtain of first class and took in the scene with a glance.
Beverage cart overturned, a couple of miniature bottles broken. A man: Presumably American, middle aged, overweight, balding and drunk. Stewardess: Japanese, mid twenties, in shock, with blood seeping from a row of puncture wounds on her left forearm. Detail: A fork, held in the man's right hand, jabbing forward.
Despite having much farther to go than the fork, Ranma grabbed the drunken man's wrist before he could inflict another wound on the waitress. The beefy man tried to move his arm but couldn't. Finding his left arm still available, he attempted to slug Ranma. He was maybe two inches into his swing when Ranma casually rendered him unconscious with a back fist. The man slumped back into his leather chair.
"Good job," Jeff said from the edge of first class.
"Martial artist duty to protect," Ranma replied.
'A hero's too,' Jeff thought to himself before searching for a first aid kit.
-----
"A little antibiotic ointment when you change bandages and you should be fine," Jeff told the stewardess as he finished treating the minor wounds.
"Thank you very much Mister..." the woman paused.
"Anderson."
"Mister Anderson, and you as well Mister..."
"Saotome. Saotome Ranma."
"Thank you as well Mister Saotome."
Ranma thought it odd to be referred to as Mister Saotome. 'That should be Pops, not me.' It bothered him somewhat. Ranma was so distracted that he didn't notice that the stewardess kissing him on the cheek until after it was all over. Remembering what Kodachi did after he saved her from a fall, Ranma's mind shut down after contemplating the woman in front of him doing something similar. He fainted on the spot.
Jeff picked Ranma up and set him in an empty chair. "You'll have to forgive him. He's been under a lot of stress lately."
-----
The plane diverted to Anchorage to turn over the unruly passenger to a couple of no-nonsense Federal Sky Marshals. Ranma and Jeff both went over what happened several times. It took way too long by Jeff's standards. But at least the two were upgraded to first class for the rest of the flight.
The delay was enough for them to miss their connecting flight. Because of the time change, it was now 3:00 AM the same morning they left. Jeff had done his fair share of traveling, jet lag was no stranger to him. For Ranma, it was a new experience. Having seen the sun come up, go down and it still end up the same day was strange.
The two went through Customs. There was a brief hold-up while Ranma's student visa was checked. Ranma didn't understand the delay and Jeff, as his temporary legal guardian, explained it to him. There were also more questions about the incident on the way over. Jeff had to slip back into Japanese to counsel Ranma to be patient. Ranma, who had traveled between countries for his entire life without worrying about such things as passports and visas, was less than happy with all the waiting.
Eventually, the two and their luggage were cleared, and they proceeded into the main part of Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Jeff preferred it over LAX. There was a much lower chance of running into a meta-human battle in Washington.
After getting their flight changed and finding they had at least an hour to kill, Jeff bought some drastically overpriced airport food and the two sat down and talked. Jeff was impressed with the speed in which Ranma was picking up English. He wasn't sure how Ranma was doing it though.
Their new flight had a stop at Chicago O'Hare, so it was more than eight hours before the two touched down at La Guardia. Since it was a domestic flight, they simply gathered their limited luggage and took a taxi into Manhattan. The wait at the Queensboro bridge was only half an hour, which was pretty good considering that it was getting close to the end of the work day.
Forward progress slowed the closer they got to Chelsea. Myrmidon fighting Base and Zapper, Jeff would later learn. Eventually, Jeff paid off the cabbie with a decent tip and the two walked the last kilometer to Jeff's building. The two ended up in front of a modest 12 story residential building.
"You live here?" Ranma asked.
"Yep," Jeff replied as he thought about his home. If it weren't for rent controls, Jeff knew that he'd never been able to afford to live there. He knew people paid over $3000 a month to live in comparable apartments on the same block. He'd beaten out several other possible tenants by offering a contract to repair the 11th story apartment and the penthouse directly above at his own expense. The damage had been caused during Strike Force Alpha's battle with the Fear Factory.
Thus the rent was a ridiculously cheap $947.85 a month after the landlord signed off on the completed work. What the landlord didn't know was that when Jeff, Anne and his friends did the job, they'd built a narrow shaft that led to the roof among other things. The repairs hadn't been difficult. FreeFall worked construction in his civilian identity and had helped immensely. Jeff and Anne had done similar work themselves while building their 'summer retreat' in Canada the prior year.
In fact, they'd been back from their annual Canada trip for only two weeks when Kasumi called to start the trip Jeff was just now returning from. Jeff had been tempted to take Ranma to Manitoba instead, but decided he needed to be in Manhattan to catch up on the money making part of his life.
Ranma interrupted Jeff's reminiscence. "Problem?"
"No," Jeff replied. "Just glad to be home."
"Not home yet," Ranma observed before yawning. Despite a nap on the flight from Chicago, Ranma was getting tired. Jeff had slept much of the trip and was annoyingly wide awake.
"I can fix that," Jeff answered as he used his key on the front entrance. Since the stairwell was for fire use only, Jeff led Ranma to the elevator. Soon the two stood in front of a door marked 1104 and as Jeff unlocked the second deadbolt, the door was opened by Jeff's wife.
To Ranma, Anne looked to be an attractive woman Jeff's age. About the same height as Kasumi, she had a slightly larger, more muscular build than the eldest Tendo daughter. Her straight black hair fell loosely past her shoulders and a she wore a smile on her oval shaped face. She was dressed in a red T-shirt and purple sweat pants with a pair of flats.
To Jeff, she looked like home.
Ranma reflexively started to pull off his slippers before remembering that most Americans wore shoes all the time. The fact there were no storage boxes or guest slippers was a clue as well.
Jeff introduced the two. "Anne meet Ranma. Ranma meet the mother of my child, my far better half and someone who married me even though she probably shouldn't have, my wife Anne." He reached out and drew her in for a brief kiss. It would have been longer, but there was company present.
Ranma missed most of want Jeff said, but he figured out the important part of it. Bowing, he said, "Thank you for taking me into your home Anderson-san."
Her smile brightened even more. "Please, call me Anne. And don't believe everything my husband tells you." She led Ranma to the living room couch. In front of the couch was a playpen containing a supply of colorful toys and a seven month old who was smashing two plastic rings together.
"That's my boy!" Jeff called from behind Ranma. Jeff picked up his son from the playpen and bounced him up and down for a moment. "How's my little man? How's my little man?" Jeff asked the infant with a silly voice while lifting him towards the ceiling. Suddenly, Jeff wrinkled his nose. "Ooh. My little man needs a new diaper," he stated in closer to normal tones.
Ranma, exhausted and jet lagged, fell asleep before the diaper change was finished.
-----
Ranma awoke to find a light blanket draped over him. It was very quiet except for some sounds coming from his left. Looking over, he saw Anne, dressed similarly to last night, standing at the sink, washing dishes.
She noticed Ranma stir and asked, "Would you like some breakfast?"
Food, being very important in the life of Ranma Saotome, was an area he'd concentrated on when using Martial Arts Linguistics to learn English. "Yes please." The 'please' was because one of the decisions that Ranma had come to as a result of his near death experience was a determination to be more polite. It hadn't been easy, but it seemed to be paying off.
"How do you want your eggs?"
Ranma didn't know the words for 'over easy', so he just said "Ahh..." and flipped his hand over. Anne seemed to understand him and quickly started breakfast.
After asking about, locating and using the bathroom, Ranma sat at the small kitchen table and looked at what Anne expected him to eat. Four eggs over easy, two large sausage patties, two slices of wheat toast with butter and jelly set out, a tall glass of orange juice and a large mug of hot water with two tea bags. "Jeff eat this much?"
"Everything but the tea," Anne answered. "Back when he was still 'active', he ate more, but he's slowed down since."
"Where is Jeff?" Ranma asked while starting in on the food set in front of him. Not up to Kasumi's or Ukyo's standards, but good enough.
"Working." A more detailed description tried and failed to make it past the language barrier. Jeff was taking care of things he'd let slide while rescuing Ranma.
The two talked for most of the morning while Anne helped Ranma get settled. While Jeff had been gone, she'd converted the workout room into a guest bedroom. The weights and disassembled workout gear were piled in the bottom of the closet. A new futon-couch was against one wall. A simple wooden desk and roller chair competed for space with a chest of drawers along the wall opposite. There was enough space left over for Ranma to engage in some restricted calisthenics or stationary katas. At least with the futon in couch form. The ceiling was about three and a half meters. Barely enough height for jumping jacks, but it would do.
When asked, Ranma demonstrated his curse to Anne. Like her husband, she didn't react much. Turned out she'd seen stranger things in the four years she had known Jeff, not to mention the year and a half they'd been married. It felt strange to have his curse accepted so calmly by someone he'd just met. Strange, but good. He used hot water straight from the tap to transform back. No waiting for a kettle to boil here.
The day went quietly. Ranma worked on his English. After lunch, because it was a bright, sunny autumn day, Anne took Lil' Bill and Ranma to Chelsea Park for a couple hours. Ranma was glad for a chance to stretch his legs. He also wanted a look around the city he found himself in. Manhattan was crowded like Tokyo, but not as clean. Nor as friendly. Most people kept very much to themselves. There were bars over all the windows less than five stories off the ground. He spotted a woman flying high over head. She hovered briefly over the park and vanished as Ranma watched.
"Don't worry, she's one of ours," Anne told Ranma when he asked about it.
They returned to the apartment and Anne suggested that he write a letter home. Ranma agreed and sat down at his desk to do so, but then wondered exactly who 'home' was. He still hadn't come up with an answer by the time Jeff knocked on his door.
"Ranma, you feeling all right?" Jeff looked sharp in a gray pinstripe suit, even with his collar undone. Ranma had never seen him dressed this way before. Was this the 'real' Jeff?
"I feel... fine," Ranma answered.
"You ready for a long talk about what you're going to be doing while you're here?"
"Not really," Ranma admitted. "Best to do anyway."
"Well then, let's talk," Jeff said, sitting down on the futon couch.
Ranma had expected something like this. Jeff had come halfway around the world to save his life. He'd gone through a lot of trouble to get Ranma out of Japan on a student visa. He'd even paid off his debts to Nabiki. It was now time to see what Jeff wanted in return. Ranma was willing to pay the price. His sense of honor demanded that he try his best to balance the slate between them.
"First off, let me tell you that what happens next is pretty much up to you. I can arrange for you to attend a local high school and you can really be a foreign exchange student. No strings. You go to school like a normal guy, and lead as normal a life as you can for a while. Once you've got yourself together, you can go back to Japan and that will be that."
Ranma knew he couldn't do 'normal'. His life just didn't work that way. "What are... choices?"
"Me and Anne can tutor you here. Anne would handle reading, history and English. I would handle math, science and other things. Either way, you will work on your education. I owe that much to you and your parents for dragging you over here."
"You not drag, I come because I want to come. But what I need school for? That not help martial arts."
"The other things include my former job. But why on Earth would you think a martial artist doesn't need an education?"
"What I need know math for? Can count punches now."
That started a discussion on the merits of scholarship. If Ranma expected to run a dojo, and he did, someday, he'd have to know enough math to keep the books, set prices for lessons, and make enough of a profit to support himself and any family he had. Jeff tore Ranma's arguments apart like tissue paper, even though he repeatedly slipped into Japanese to explain things that Ranma didn't have the vocabulary for yet.
"Or you could just let Nabiki handle all that for you and not have a yen to your name as long as you live," Jeff finished.
"All right, you win," Ranma said in surrender. "You have all answers."
"Not all of them, just the easy ones. Now where was I? Oh yeah, my former profession. If you want, you could get into that. You've already got the physical skills for the job. I can teach you some of the non-physical things."
"Like..."
"Rules of Engagement. Evidence Collection. Secret Identities. Spookers. Dealing with the public, the press, the police and other problems. All the stuff I had to figure out the hard way when I started doing this."
"You really think I can be super hero?"
"Ranma, I think you can be any damn thing you really want. All you need is the chance."
"Thank you."
"I won't lie. It's a dangerous job. You could get killed. I've seen it happen. Hell, it happened to Fastball. People you've never met will hate you, while others will worship you. You could end up fighting things that make Ryoga look like a walk in the park. And I flat guarantee you: You will see things you wish you hadn't."
"Already done that," Ranma said thinking of his mother staring at the edge of the Saotome clan sword.
"Doesn't surprise me."
"So why? If job is so bad, why do it?" Ranma asked.
"Because it needs to be done. If you have the ability, you have the responsibility."
"Then why did you stop?"
"I haven't stopped, I just changed the way I do things. I moved from a more active role to a support role. From working in the public eye to working behind the scenes. There are days I do more good for the world in my workshop or at a computer keyboard than I ever managed to do by punching someone."
"I'm not smart like you. I'm better off punching," Ranma said self deprecatingly.
"You're smarter than you let on. Heck, I'll even prove it to you," Jeff said waving his hands. "Say your fighting someone who can block or dodge ninety six percent of your punches."
"Like Cologne?"
"Doesn't matter who. You also know it'll take 14 hits to knock this person out. How many punches should you expect to throw?"
Ranma's hands blurred into motion. "Three hundred fifty," Ranma answered after making 14 phantom punches in under two seconds.
"Bingo. Next question: What's 28 divided by 8%?"
Ranma picked up a pen from his desk and worked on the problem. Thirty seconds later he said dejectedly, "Three hundred fifty."
"Yep. The first question was associated with fighting, so you answered it easily. I'll even bet you were counting by twenty fives when you where throwing those punches."
"Yes," Ranma admitted, surprised by Jeff's insight.
"The second question was straight math. So you figured it out like a math problem."
"It was math problem."
"Ranma, 28 is twice 14, 8% is twice 4%. If I take a number and divide by another number, I get an answer. If I double the number and double what I'm dividing by, I get the same answer. I know you're not stupid because you got the first answer. What you're missing is the ability to apply your fighting skills to something more abstract," Jeff explained in Japanese.
The little light bulb flashed on in Ranma's head. "No I am not," he suddenly said in English.
Unlike most of the people he knew, Jeff didn't start an argument at this point. He simply said, "Explain."
"Is how I learn English. I make up katas from English lessons. I do same thing with disc you buy at airport. I do in my head." Ranma leapt from his chair and dropped into a ready stance. 'A' was a rising punch, 'B' a block, 'C' a double punch from left to right, 'D' a double punch right to left. Ranma continued with the alphabet while Jeff watched with keen interest.
Once Ranma was finished with that and a few other katas, Jeff commented, "Ranma, you're a genius. Don't ever try to tell me you're stupid again because I won't believe you."
"There many things I not know," Ranma protested.
"You're confusing _knowledge_ with _intelligence_. Knowledge is what you know, intelligence is how well you figure things out. Trust me, coming up with 'Martial Arts English' was brilliant."
At this point, Anne dragged both of them to the dinner table. She served an herb chicken in gravy over a bed of three colored pasta with mashed potatoes and green beans. Ranma figured his diet would be including a lot more protein than he was used to. Kasumi wouldn't have used that much meat for two meals while cooking for six people.
"You do any cooking Ranma?" Anne asked after clearing the dishes.
"Some. I cook better than Pops, lots better than Akane. Make good salad."
"You can make a salad for lunch tomorrow then," Anne answered.
"You two can eat the rabbit food if you want. If I'm here, I'll have a ham sandwich," Jeff put in.
"Carnivore," Anne retorted.
"And proud of it," Jeff shot back.
-----
Let it be said that Ranma Saotome is not stupid. Anyone who learns esoteric martial arts as quickly as he does isn't dumb. By consciously applying his martial arts skills to his academic studies, Ranma underwent an intellectual blooming. Many of the basic concepts that he simply missed during his training journeys were being learned now. Learned, integrated with his growing store of knowledge and applied to learn even more.
Ranma went from being functionally illiterate in English to reading at an eighth grade level in three weeks. His math skills shot up almost as dramatically. He showed a flair for human anatomy that he thanked Tofu-sensei for. The works of Larry Gonick proved quite helpful for the basics of World and US History, Statistics, Physics and Genetics. The various 'learning katas' he'd come up with kept his body in shape. Although he would have liked to spar more. Jeff wasn't much competition those few times Ranma talked him into it.
The fact that he was getting all the sleep he needed didn't hurt either. Whereas Jeff functioned best on eight hours sleep and Anne did fine with just over six, Ranma slept more than ten hours a night the first two weeks he spent in the Anderson household. Until coming to America, Ranma had almost never been allowed to sleep in. Either his father would wake him up to spar, or he'd have to get up for school, or someone would attack and he'd have to get up to fight them. It was amazing how much more focused he could be just from getting all the rest he needed. He tapered off to eight and a half hours after a month.
Ranma did more than work on his education. He went to a Broadway show and two football games. He toured a few museums. He met several people at Anne's 21st birthday party. They included two police officers, a bicycle messenger, a lawyer, some coeds and Anne's father. They all seemed perfectly normal. He'd even been there when Lil' Bill pulled himself upright and stood unassisted for the first time.
Water still managed to find him on occasions when he didn't want it to, but not nearly as often as in Nerima. He'd caught a couple of purse snatchers, broken up a mugging and beat the living snot out of a pimp who had struck one of his girls in Ranma's presence. He'd also been watching the news carefully for anything on the city's meta-human population.
It seemed there were minor incidents daily and at least one major battle per week. So far he hadn't got involved in anything directly, but he and Jeff had helped with the aftermath of one fight. The damage level was at least as bad as a duel with Ryoga. Worse if you considered the innocents hurt. There had been no deaths, but one man would never walk again.
-----
Jeff noticed that Ranma's rapid progress finally slowed after six weeks. He was more than satisfied with the results. As a reward, Jeff took Ranma with him to his hanger/workshop/office at Teterboro Airport the Sunday before Thanksgiving.
"So what did you want to show me anyway?" Ranma asked as Jeff ushered him into his office. There was a large sign on the office door.
ANDERSON COMPUTING SOLUTIONS
ANDERSON CUSTOM DESIGN
ONE OFF PRODUCTIONS OF TETERBORO
SEARCH AND RESCUE OF TETERBORO Ltd.
ALL RECORDING DEVICES PROHIBITED
"A couple things. I thought I'd give you your first flying lesson."
"You want me to fly your plane?" Ranma had been up in the Maule once while Jeff dragged banners in circles over the nearby Meadowlands sports complex as a paid favor for one of his pilot friends. He hadn't really enjoyed it.
Jeff used a key to open a door marked PRIVATE and led Ranma into his workshop. He said, "Hell no. I want you to fly that." Jeff pointed to something Ranma had only seen glimpses of as they flew over the city. A MATRIX hoversled. Ranma examined the device carefully.
It was about a meter and a half long, just under a meter wide and about 30 centimeters thick. Four metal jacks held it a hand's breadth off the ground. An adjustable height bicycle seat was the only thing to sit on. Foot wells were slightly recessed into the top. The control yoke was simple enough, the central panel was dominated by a flat computer screen flanked by a variety of indicator lights. A windshield covered the front of the craft. It was tall enough to crouch behind and short enough to stand over. Two posts, a with net of bungee cords strung between them, served to hold loose cargo.
"Cool," Ranma whispered.
Jeff spent half an hour going over the basics. Any yellow light meant land within five minutes, any red light meant land immediately. To go up, pull back on the yoke, to go down, push forward. Right hand throttle controls forward speed. The most important thing, Stopping Takes Time. For an emergency stop, pop the gyros using the red switch by the left thumb, haul back on the control yoke and pray.
"That last part sounds dangerous," Ranma noted. Not that danger worried him.
"There's only so much I can do without driving the price beyond what MATRIX can pay. I could do better, but I can't afford two million bucks for anti grav units."
"Anti grav units?" Ranma had never heard of such things.
"Daedelus Foundation makes them or maybe just sells them. I've never been sure which. Theoretically, the government restricts their use, but it's an open secret they can be bought for the right price."
"How do they work?"
"I don't know. Applied experimental physics isn't my area of expertise."
"I thought you had all answers."
"I keep telling you, just the easy ones."
Jeff set governors to limit the hoverseld's speed and had Ranma take it once around the hanger. Ranma moved as stately as a cruise ship through calm water. But slower. Jeff eased up on the overrides and sent him around again. Ranma had near perfect balance. Jeff thought he could fly a hoversled even if the gyros went out on him. Ranma was grinning like a canary filled cat by the time Jeff called him back to ground.
"Well I think that one's ready to go. I'll take it over tomorrow."
"What else?" Ranma recalled that Jeff had said 'a couple things'.
"Ah, you remembered." Jeff walked over to a tarp and pulled it off with a flourish.
"A model airplane?" After the hoversled, it was a major let down.
"Not _just_ a model airplane. This is a working model of a tilt turbine craft that I hope to have built full size in the next four years. Bell Helicopter has one style of civilian tilt rotor available for sale. One. Mine will kick its ass if I can get it built. It'll be faster, roomier, and cost less. I've already got five patents on it and more being researched. If I can keep the price down, it'll replace the medivac helicopter completely."
Ranma tried to dredge up some enthusiasm, but failed. Despite Jeff's pride, all he saw was a model airplane. "Can I deliver the hoversled with you?" he asked.
"So, you want to see what a superhero's secret headquarters looks like?" Jeff asked back. Jeff had planned to offer Ranma a tour sooner or later. If Ranma did choose the life of a superhero, Jeff felt that Ranma's abilities were more suited to a team than a solo career.
"Sure," Ranma replied. If he chose to be a superhero, he wanted as much information going in as he could get. Even if he wasn't a team player and would most likely work alone.
"Follow me."
END CHAPTER 6