A/N: Hey there guys! New story (again)! I deleted one of my other ones because I didn't like it, and I've wanted to write this for quite some time now. So here it is. This very well might be a crossover fic with InuYasha, which I hope I can pull off... But I hope you enjoy the first chapter. Proceed.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Ranma 1/2, nor do I own the Anonymous quote below. Instead I'm stuck here, writing some lame spin off, and quoting from a quote. Gee, that's exciting, hm?
Sitting Ducks
Chapter One - Welcoming Committee
"If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence of trying."
- Anonymous
"And Ranma, whatever happens... you must not, under any circumstances leak information to anyone outside of this circle. It could ruin everything. Understood?" Ranma tapped a calloused finger against the subway seat beside him, his misty gray eyes rolling heavenward as he sighed, "You got it, boss." Before the authority figure on the other end of the line could form a response, The pig-tailed man snapped his pocket-sized phone closed with a 'click'.
"Asshole." He grunted, slouching further into his seat and taking into consideration the formidable stares several of the other passengers were sending his way. The hassled young man let his eyes drift closed in irritation, only opening them at the shrill alarm of a digital watch. 12 o'clock ... in the morning. Boy, was he tired. He sat up abruptly, his hand digging deep into the inside of his jacket. His fingers closed around a stiff object in his pocket, and he withdrew his hand, empty, and thoroughly reassured.
The train began to slow, grinding against the railing beneath them and radiating an ear-shattering scream , as Ranma stood tiredly. The dirty, yellow-stained doors slid open at a pace more sluggish than Ranma's, and the said youth willed himself onto the platform. Once there, he sighed again with more gusto, glancing around at his fellow late-night travelers. They were few and far between, and he began to grow irritated as his eyes scanned the crowd fruitlessly. Then, all at once he came upon a scraggly looking man dressed in torn pants and a mud-coated jacket. He was fairly old, with what few hairs he had remaining in a greasy tangle about his head and a sodden cardboard sign about his neck which read, "Homeless, need money. "
Ranma began to stroll past the man leisurely, dropping Five yen into the rusty tin cup at his feet. The old man blearily glanced inside his can, before blinked and settling back against the wall. Ranma continued past him until he had reached the stairwell which he followed up into a deserted street beside a park covered in shadow. He continued through the park until he reached the children's playground, long since deserted for a cozy home and dinner on the table.
Once there, the young man flicked his pigtail impatiently, growing bitter at the chill weather surrounding him. He slumped down beside a large tree, and commenced waiting. After a mere ten minutes, the anxious boy stood abruptly, pacing and groaning as he occasionally pulled a pocket watch from his pant pocket. Just as he began grinding his pearly teeth together in impatience, another shadow appeared through the trees: a hunched figure with a sloppy limp and a knack for causing a ruckus as he staggered toward Ranma.
"Oi, old man, what took you so damn long?" The other man grunted, settling against a strong tree trunk and fishing through his pockets for something. Ranma's hand hovered momentarily over the gun in his holster beneath the seam of his t-shirt. Just in case.
"Got a light, sonny?" He wheezed dramatically, reaching a cigarette toward the young man. Ranma pulled a metallic lighter from his jean pocket and flipped it open. The dim light that the flame allowed gave Ranma a good view of his companion. His greasy hair was slicked back in it's dirtiness, showing a deep receding hairline and smudgy skin. His ragged clothing hung over his thin form like a potato sack over a broomstick. Set beside him was a covered tin can and a soggy cardboard sign. "Thanks kid." He grinned.
Ranma danced from foot to foot impatiently as the decrepit man drew in a deep breath, before exhaling a foggy cloud of bitter-smelling smoke. The old man glanced toward Ranma as he continued to fidget, before grinning and adding, "You ever consider quitting your day job and becoming a dancer?"
"You ever consider doing your job, so you can stop wasting both our time?" His mysterious companion guffawed heartily, "You young people these days have no patience. Deary me, let an old man catch his breath, why don't you?" Ranma scowled disdainfully at the older man's chuckling form.
"Well, that's all nice and well, but I have better things to do than wait around for some old coot to accumulate lung cancer by the swing-set." He huffed bitterly and rubbed his icy hands together. The said smoker dropped his still-burning cigarette to the dusty floor and crushed it beneath his scuffed army boot. His expression turned grim - or at least that's what Ranma imagined there in the dark - and he cleared his throat.
"Fair enough. Do you have it, boy?"His deep, guttural, voice becoming business-like in an instant. Ranma nodded, "Yeah, it's here", all business himself, and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. Grasping the disc in his hands, he handed it over to the elderly man before pulling out a document and flicking open his lighter to make it easier on the old man's eyes. He scanned the document quickly, nodding to himself.
"That'll do. But There's something I need to tell you before we go our separate ways. We did some background checks on you kid... to make sure you were legitimate and everything... and I think there's one thing you should know..." The youth nodded slowly, suspiciously aware of the other man's hesitance.
"The man we're after has - " Several gunshots rang through the shadowy park, breaking the eery quiet surrounding the two. Ranma ducked behind a tree as his companion dropped wordlessly to the grassy floor beside him. He grabbed the handle of the gun tucked into his belt, grasping it firmly in his right palm and let fire in the direction he felt the presence emanating from.
"Sneaky bastard." He cursed as he thought back to the moment before the shooting began. He had heard nothing. Seen nothing. Felt nothing. He had to be over-worked or something because... no one ever snuck up on Ranma Saotome.
Only moments later, the distant singing of sirens echoed through the empty streets. Ranma cursed again, more vehemently this time. His attacker had apparently bolted at the local law's interruption, so the young man replaced his gun in the belt of his jeans and bent over his companion who had remained quiet throughout the whole affair.
"Yo, old man! We gotta run for it - the cops are coming!" He shook the man vigorously. The elderly man made no response. He tried again, shoving the still man forcefully. "Hey! I
said -", but he interrupted himself, pulling his hand away as if it were ablaze. The dirty jacket and scarf the man had wore were stained dark with the scarlet of this stranger's blood, and they soaked up his draining life like an over-saturated sponge. He was dead . Ranma drew in a sharp breath, "Dammit... now what am I gonna do?"
He gave the corpse a look of distaste as he plunged his hand into the body's bloody clothing. Ranma kept his eyes tightly screwed shut as he searched his pockets. "Jackpot." He yanked out the disc he had given the agent moments before, thinking frantically of where he might put it so the police wouldn't find it. It was far too late for him to escape capture. They were practically infiltrating the monkey bars. He reached into a nearby trash can, pulled out an old McDonald's kiddy-bag, and shoved the disc inside. Glancing nervously toward the arriving police, he shoved a rock inside with the disc and chucked it into the high branches of the tree above him, praying that it would remain safely unnoticed while they took him in.
He pulled out the document he had kept in another pocket, and proceeded to set it on fire with his lighter, before he threw it into the trash. And then he remembered... "Fuck, my gun!" He yanked it from his waste, thanking the lord and all that is holy that he had been wearing his leather gloves all night. Without another moment's hesitation, he chucked it in the direction his attacker had been moments before.
On another impulse, he searched the tree trunk where they had been shot at, and used the small wooden letter-opener he carried around to dig out the bullets that had buried themselves there. He pocketed them, tossing the letter-opener into the flaming trash can as well. It was sloppy. The worst cover-up job he had ever managed to pull off, but... he gave himself a mental pat on the back as the police arrived. He had managed it all in five minutes, give or take a few seconds.
He knew they'd be able to catch him for something, but with a great lawyer and a little persuasion from the government, the worst they could do was pat his butt and send him off with a warning. He would just have to be more careful next time. He had to insure that there would be no next time.
Unfortunately, it had cost him his gun, his only form of identification in a foreign country, most likely his job, and to top it all off, he had just reduced his favorite letter-opener to ashes. Damn those cops. Damn that stranger. Damn his luck.
He sighed dramatically as a group of idiots clad in uniform barraged him, sticking the barrel of there guns up his nose, handcuffs on his wrists, and a knee up his ass. A young man about a head taller than Ranma, began, "You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney..." etc., etc. ... These guys were dull.
Ranma easily shrugged the man off his back, experimentally testing the strength of his handcuffs. Should he bolt? It would be so easy... no. He figured it would be best to play along with their little charade. Maybe he'd shove his palm up this idiot's nose cartilage once his boss got him out of there.
All of a sudden, Ranma was forcefully shoved against the rough bark of a tree. His nose was crushed up against the stub of a newly forming branch, and he blinked as a lacquered green leaf stuck his open eye. He yelped, "What the hell was that for?"
"You were resisting arrest. I had to get rough with you." A new voice spoke up merrily from behind. Surprisingly, It was a female voice. Ranma grit his teeth. He could practically hear her smirking triumphantly. Bitch. He struggled futilely, growing more frustrated at the idea of being weakened by a woman.
"Knock it off, moron. You're only making it harder on yourself." She spun him around so that he was facing her. His jaw dropped in sheer awe. She was petite. Probably four inches shorter than himself. She was thin - feeble looking, almost. Delicate. He snorted. She was cute.
"You do look dangerous." She smiled prettily, cocking her head to the side. She laughed easily at his sour expression, and he turned away from her. She laughed again, this time patting his arm. "You can act as tough as you want, buddy, but you can't fool me." Ranma snorted at her in response. She only smiled, turning his face toward hers with strong, sure fingers."We're going to become very close over the next few days, wether you like it or not."
Gee... and here he was thinking this night couldn't get any better.
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