Avenging

Act IV

The Hate Monger and the Peacemaker

Chapter 9

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xxxxxxx

Genma and Soun sat a table, trying to win a game of shogi by cheating without getting caught. Because some people liked playing games by their own rules. Which also proved that just because something sounded daring and cool didn't mean it was.

Soun said, "I'm getting a little worried about the promise to unite the families, Saotome. I'll admit my girls are dragging their feet a bit, but Ranma is doing the same thing. He's a man and he's not courting any of them."

Genma thought about how Nodoka had won him over when he had been dragging his feet on marriage: putting out and then getting pregnant. Somehow he didn't think that suggestion would exactly fly with his friend. "The boy's got a lot on his mind, but he'll come around."

"I was thinking. Remember when you were interested in that Fukumi girl but were having trouble asking her out?"

Genma stared hard at his friend. "The one that, once we started dating, threatened to kill every woman I talked to."

"Er, yes. Well, some women are a bit overprotective."

"I once dropped ten yen on the street and some girl picked it up for me. Fukumi thought it was a sign of sexual interest, and stalked the woman to her home and threatened to pull her eyes out with a pair of pliers."

"And a bit over the top."

"She became a legitimate axe murderess. She's in prison for life and everything."

"And I went on a date with a girl who would only talk through a ventriloquist's dummy. All women have issues. My point is what did I do to give you a push in the right direction?"

Recollection made Genma smile, a wide thing that would have unsettled anyone that knew him. Except Soun, which proved he was a true friend since it was Genma being talked about. "The strip club. That's right. Maybe the boy does need some prodding." Also Genma missed the sight of women's flesh. And since going back to his wife was not an option, why not take a refresher course? Eye candy and whatnot. Why, if married men didn't frequent such establishments, the industry would collapse into itself. "It's a capital idea, Tendou."

"Couldn't say it better myself," Soun assured him.

"The four of us are going to have a great time."

The men would have quickly realized the math didn't add up, but the sound of the voice made it unnecessary.

"Master!" It was remarkable how mutually shared trauma could produce identical responses at the exact same moment. And similar lines of thought.

"Now now, Master. At your advanced age that sort of stimulation might be more than your heart can take," Soun placated.

"We're only looking out for your welfare in leaving you behind," Genma seconded.

Happosai scowled. "Like when you left me for dead, buried alive? That kind of welfare?"

The pair grew very uncomfortable.

Happosai smiled. "Tell you what, boys. If you beat me in a fight, I won't go."

"Glad to have you along."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

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Dr. Tofu Ono was perturbed. It hadn't been a state he was familiar with. Pleasant, with a chance of befuddled depending the percentage of Kasumi showing up, would be the best descriptor.

When was the last time he had lost it like that? It was so far back he couldn't recall. It should have been cause for joy, since sensibility and coherence were usually desirable traits in pursuing someone, but the reason underlying the change undid any good that could come of it. It had made him perpetually irate.

To make things worse Akane had, in her own quiet way, let him know some of his patients were complaining about him being terse. What was their problem? He wasn't there to hold their hands and make them feel warm and fuzzy: he was there to fix their medical conditions, which he did since he was the best. Ingrates, the lot of them. He should tell them if they didn't like his bedside manner they could go to someone incompetent who would lick their boots for them. And they could feel wonderful about the doctor's smile while their pain persisted and they kept going back to Dr. Nice again and again since he had no idea how to be an effective doctor.

Tofu was starting to realize people were far more stupid than he originally believed. And to think, he actually used to like his patients. But much like fair-weathered friends, they turned on you the instant you didn't live up to their expectations, then demanded you conform to being what they wanted, rather than what worked.

He had half a mind to give up medicine altogether. He'd need another career, though not costumed idiot, as Kasumi would probably insist he do if he officially changed professions. Something like, blast, he had no idea what he would do, just something that didn't involve idiots.

Actually that could eliminate most jobs he was aware of.

While he sat in his office fuming, Akane poked her head in. "Dr. Tofu, there's two men here who say they know you. They don't have appointments and seem kind of rude-."

The door opened further and Akane was jostled aside as two men, Tofu's age, entered. "Tofer old buddy, how's tricks?"

Tofu's eyes widened. "Kensuke! Sasori!" He ran over and hugged the guys. "It's been years."

"Too many, my man." Kensuke slapped Tofu affectionately on the back. "I happened to run into Sorry here, we started drinking, and we said to ourselves, what's missing?"

"The rest of the beer?" Tofu laughed.

"Besides that," Kensuke said. "The Third Lushketeer."

"Lushketeer?" Akane asked.

Tofu had enough sense to laugh in embarrassment. "Kind of a nickname in college since we drank… a lot."

"It's better than our first one, 'The Three Shitheads'," Sasori said.

"No, it was just the Two Shitheads," Kensuke corrected. "And only Maya called you two that, and it was only because both of you dated, then broke up with her."

"And that's why I never went for your used goods again," Sasori informed Tofu.

Tofu started laughing, then looked sheepishly at the scandalized Akane. "He dated her after me, not at the same time. Um, you should take the rest of the day off."

"Yeah." She closed the door behind her.

"You are free tonight," Kensuke informed Tofu. "And we are reliving old times at a place that has lots of drinks and lots of women, since we go through a lot of the former, and if we play our cards right, some of the latter."

Tofu scratched his head until Sasori translated, "Strip club I frequent."

Tofu was amazed at how wonderful the suggestion was. Reliving the good old days was just the salve to the wound his life had become. Wine and, well, he shouldn't indulge in women himself, but there was nothing wrong in looking. It had been a while since he's seen one. In that way anyhow.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Tofu Ono smiled.

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"Pop, going to a strip joint—"

"Gentleman's Club. Show some respect for the entertainment profession, boy."

"Gentleman's Club," Ranma slowly repeated. "With your parents is wrong, and I mean wrong on a fundamental level. Creepy beyond all measure. I don't want to do it."

"Would any of your fellow male classmates pass up an opportunity to have a trip to the gentleman's club on someone else's yen?"

Visions of Hiroshi and Daisuke flashed through Ranma's mind. Puddles of drool would probably form under their mouths at the mere suggestion of seeing naked women. And if they heard about Ranma backing out of seeing some he'd never hear the end of it. Besides, people might think he was afraid of naked women. If it was Ryouga, sure, he might end up in a pool of his own blood with the nosebleed and wuss out, but not Ranma Saotome. It was just he'd seen lots of naked female flesh: mostly his own. And since no one had a better body than him, well, ogling someone else kind of felt like passing up the Mona Lisa so you can see some comic book cover artist instead.

There was another more important reason for accepting: his father was being insistent. If Ranma backed out his father could make cutting remarks for weeks about him not being manly or something. And then people would ask why. Then they'd find out and might question his masculinity, which was not in question, even if he turned into a girl from time to time. Best to take the path of least resistance and garner a favorable outcome. Sort of like stopping the Hijacker before he hijacked the ' Moon Murder Machine' and you found yourself dealing with ten tons of stolen weaponry which would end up destroyed, and then the company would try suing you for the damage since the Hijacker had no money. Who built a damn Moon Murder Machine anyway? Who were you going to murder on the moon?

Ranma pointed at Happosai. "Why is the spud coming along?"

The elderly master leapt up and swatted Ranma in the back of the head. "I'm not so old I can't still enjoy the female body. Want me to tell you stories about my sexual prowess from back in the day? There's a reason ole Danton Valya and the Brotherhood of Baal couldn't find a virgin sacrifice to summon the old fuddy duddy demon they wanted."

Three voices shouted, "No!" in perfect terror stricken harmony.

"You'll never learn anything if you don't listen to the pearls of wisdom your elders offer," Happosai grumbled.

And so it was an hour later their walk down the streets of Roppongi was interrupted just one block from their destination. They came to a stop as a voice from a nearby alleyway gave the universal greeting. "Psst."

They turned. The man appeared to be in his early 40's and was dressed in an oversized trench coat and low brimmed hat. It was as inconspicuous as shouting out, 'Don't look at me! I'm inconspicuous', at the top of one's lungs. "You guys look like you're heading to the nearby establishment that offers views of the finer features of the feminine variety. However, it behooves me to point out that they check ID's at the door, and your younger acquaintance appears to be under the minimum age."

Genma snapped his fingers. He had forgotten about that. He and Soun had fake IDs at Ranma's age so it hadn't been an issue.

The man continued. "But it turns out I am a facilitator of those who would transcend the archaic rules society foists upon us. And thus I can provide egress to such locations for a small token."

"I'm translating that as either fake ID's, or you want us to help you break into a bank vault," Ranma said.

The man confirmed it was a fake ID. Ranma was about to nix the idea when Genma blurted out, "How much?"

"I shall strike a bargain with you. It shall be a mere 6,000 yen, but you don't have to pay unless they let you in."

Genma didn't like the price, but did like the guarantee. "Deal."

"All right then." The man handed Ranma a card.

Ranma looked at it. It was a library card with some sort of indecipherable scrawl that could loosely be interpreted as terrible Japanese, or Sanskrit written by an expert calligrapher. There was what might be a name, or a very off color term for a female relative, and a stick figure drawn in crayon with the number 21 next to 'age'."

"This wouldn't fool a blind man." At least one who didn't have super senses, since they were extremely hard to fool as Ranma could attest to firsthand. However the not inconspicuous man had already vanished.

Since they couldn't protest further, they continued on their way. Genma knew they were doomed. They should have just given the boy a fake mustache. That always worked. At least if the lighting was dim and the person they were trying to fool was really drunk.

They went up to the door where a bouncer was checking identification. Ranma decided to get this over with so he could go back home and study or something. "Here you go."

The bouncer looked at it, gave a tired sigh, and then handed it back. "You can enter."

Genma and Soun were relieved. Happosai was indignant since the man wasn't asking for his ID, saying he could have been under 21 since he was so spry. Ranma just stared at the bouncer.

"Does this actually look anything like me?" He waved it under the man's nose.

"Looks legit," he said in a tired voice and tried ushering him in again.

Before Ranma could protest further, Genma dragged him into the establishment.

They hadn't made it more than ten feet in when the man from the alley appeared before them and held out an expectant hand. "Told you it would work. My fee."

Genma handed him the money. Ranma asked, "How did you do that? Do you have illusion powers that make the person looking at it see what you want or something?" It was the most rational explanation Ranma could come up with.

Before the man could answer a bartender walked up to him and said, "Boss, you got to sign for today's liquor shipment." And handed him a paper which the man signed.

"You sell fake IDs to your own club?" Ranma thought the illusion idea was more believable.

"Everything is for sale, including my integrity," the man assured him and enjoined the group to indulge themselves in his establishment.

Ranma finally took in the club. It actually appeared high end. There were two full service bars, a number of televisions with large screens depicting sporting events, two large areas that could accommodate a great deal of seating next to the stage, a number of tables patrons could sit at, some booths against the wall with curtains that could be drawn for privacy, and a stairway leading to an upper floor where a scantily clad woman was leading several salarymen with anxious smiles. More women in similar lack of attire were circulating among the crowd carrying trays of shot glasses filled with a variety of different colored liquids. On both stages women were gyrating seductively in varying states of undress.

"This was an incredibly brilliant idea I had," Genma drooled.

"You mean it was my idea," Soun corrected as he took note one of the dancers managed to get even more undressed than she was a moment ago. What useful purpose did bras serve anyway?

"So many beauties," Happosai said with a starry look in his eyes. "So silky. So lacey. Maybe I should help these ladies liberate themselves from their undies. I try to be generous with the younger generation." His fingers began wiggling of their own accord in the direction of the stage.

"They can take them off perfectly fine! They're experts at getting out of their clothes or they wouldn't have jobs here," Genma insisted.

"They'll throw us out if you cause problems, Master!" Soun wanted to see naked ladies again. He hadn't realized how much he missed them until he saw one. People wanting a drink of water after being stranded in a desert for a couple of days had nothing on him.

"And I'll beat the crap out of you." Ranma cracked his knuckles meaningfully.

Happosai pouted. "Well, I guess if they're taking them off anyway, I can just sit and watch. Maybe give them a few pointers. Do you think any of them would like to become martial artists?"

The trio ignored Happosai as best as they could. A group of men rose from their seats at the head of a stage just as the quartet approached. They quickly took up the vacated seats.

Ranma watched the others gaze at the women, or in Happosai's case their underwear, in rapt attention. He was mostly just annoyed. This wasn't his kind of scene. Not that he didn't admire the feminine form, just that he wasn't into having them thrust into this face like the current dancer was doing to him with her chest just now. He smiled politely at her. Then Genma handed him some money to stick in a garter belt that had remained on for just such an occasion. Well, he supposed since they were doing their job, they deserved to get paid. He put it in the offered garment.

His father slapped him on the back. "That's the spirit son."

Ranma rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long night.

After the woman finished dancing for the patrons, she went out of sight behind the curtain in back. The disc jockey at the music console got on the microphone. "All right everyone. Tonight's Theme Night for our luscious ladies. As a special treat, the girls are going to show you who their favorite costumed heroes and villains are. Not that the costumes will remain on for long."

While the room roared in approval, Ranma jerked in his seat. That didn't sound good at all.

The DJ waited for the applause to die down. "And here is our first hero of the evening. We present to you The Goddess of Thunder who enjoys hammering guys… and getting hammered by them. Presenting the divine one herself, Thor!"

Ranma watched the dancer come out. He'd never envisioned a stripper version of his teammate's outfit, but somehow this woman had managed it. It was a real good thing Thor wasn't present since one look at that outfit she'd have lightning bolted the roof off.

Yes, it was going to be a real long night.

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"Hey girls, check out the stud at 12 o'clock on the main stage."

"You mean the cute one in the white gi?"

"And that's why I never use your opinion about men, Noriko."

"Wow, I spotted him. If he were a superhero I'd call him the Incredible Hunk."

"Yeah, that works for me. What say you, Aika?"

"I say the 'Punisher' here is going to see if she can get his number by unlimbering the big guns. Most guys like being smacked in the face by these babies." She fondled her breasts for emphasis and prepared to take the stage, target remaining in her peripheral vision.

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Picolet Chardin II wanted revenge. Which was why he lurked in the same alleyway Ranma and company had passed by earlier.

Revenge against the gentlemen's club was on the menu tonight, and his palette would be tantalized by it. It wasn't his fault his family had a rare hereditary trait: that of a six foot long prehensile tongue. Nor was it his fault when he became… aroused, he lost momentary control of it. Like when he went to the club and one of the more bouncy women had flaunted her wares before him. His tongue shot out and sort of brushed out against her. Okay, it had inadvertently ended up in the valley formed by her huge tracts of land. But in her ignorance she declared him a molester, and he'd been brutalized by the bouncers and tossed out like pulverized garbage. If there was a greater injustice for such a travesty, he could not envision it.

So he went into hiding and trained, making his tongue the deadliest weapon on the planet. As befitting his new status, he became a super-villain and chosen an awesome outfit. He'd also chosen a name that was guaranteed to strike fear into the hearts of those who would beat up poor misunderstood patrons of gentleman's clubs.

"Prepare to be licked by… the Tongue Lasher!" He sent his tongue through the side of a garbage can.

One filled with four day old food that had sat in 90 degree weather. His tongue got to savor all the delightful flavors contained within such an unusual concoction.

"Urk!" The Tongue Lasher recoiled his tongue.

And a billy club met him in the back of his head, rendering him unconscious.

Daredevil swung down from the rooftop and landed next to his 'foe'. A really long tongue? That was his power? Yet another total loser added to the ever growing list. Everyone would make more fun of him than they already did for his inability to have a decent nemesis. Or at least one that wasn't terminally infatuated with him in every sense of the word.

The first thing he did every day was make certain Bullseye was still in prison.

But wait, no one had seen him dispatch this pathetic weenie. Not even the pathetic weenie himself. Perhaps the blind adventurer could drop him off in front the police station tied up with no one the wiser as to who had captured him.

He didn't need everyone mocking him for another 'June Jitsui'.

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The DJ watched the dancer walk off the stage and got out the card to announce the next one. "I want you all to welcome the hottest thing straight out of the pits of Hell. One of Big Daddy Mephisto's innumerable daughters. The succubus who'll swallow more than your soul, Morrigan Aensland."

"That's Mara, you idiot!" a voice from backstage shouted.

"But it's spelled—"

"It doesn't matter how it's spelled, it's pronounced Mara, mortal worm!"

And with that the woman took the stage, capturing everyone's attention. The outfit was pure leather dominatrix that fit her like a second skin. The bustier appeared to be made of bone and barely crept over the naughtiest part of her large bosom. Her features would have made most porn stars quit their jobs from an inferiority complex. Every eye in the place was riveted to her, even the other dancers who took gratuitous amounts of nubile flesh as just another day on the job.

Morrigan smiled, flashing fangs as her eyes surveyed the room filled with petty mortals. She'd made a wager with Mephista and Satana Satanadana (which the idiot mortals would not have pronounced Mara, since they didn't understand subtleties.) Morrigan bet she could bag fifty souls in one shot. Being a succubus meant soul taking was easy, but trying to do that many in one go would tax even one of her skill, since each one was unique. It was like a mortal trying fifty different types of ice cream all at once without mixing them. She'd have to keep the amount minimal, since anything short of the Demogorge itself would explode actually consuming that many souls in their entirety. A fifty-in-one was like juggling a ball, knife and running chainsaw in one hand while spinning pirouettes blindfolded.

But the stakes were too tempting. If she won, her sisters would have to sign up with an online Christian dating service and accept offers from the first ten guys that came on to them, and act like they had a good time on the dates. It was such delicious torture.

Morrigan's stake was probably worse, though. If she lost it was going to a sci-fi convention dressed as 7 of 9 and act like she enjoyed the little geeks leering at her. She'd even have to take pictures with them. She despised Trekkies. They just couldn't let anything die.

In order to bag that many souls at once, she had to entrance them all. One on one, even five to one, she could manage without help, but for that many she had needed a room packed with people full of alcohol and lust, and wanting more of both. That made a strip club the go to spot. And when she learned it was dress up villainess night, hell, she might have attended even without the wager.

And she had them. From the moment she appeared and sent her magical allure, she had every last one of the feeble-minded simpletons. She so adored the looks of rapture on their faces, and she would do them the ultimate favor of feeding on them. Mortals never had it so good.

And then she realized one of the patrons wasn't looking at her with vacant adoration, but rather a scowl of irritation. That was odd. "So how is it you're not like the others, worm?"

And then he showed her.

"Oh crap."

And they disappeared.

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Everyone in the club blinked. The owner realized the main stage was vacant. There was always supposed to be someone there. He waved at the DJ, who nodded and read from a card. "Next up is Lethal Letha. Wait until you see her concealed weapons. They'll knock you dead." He rolled his eyes as some fanboy shouted it was supposed to be just Letha. Like anyone cared about authenticity. Nerd.

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"What did I tell you, Ono? I remain the master of all brilliant ideas. You can genuflect before me if you'd like."

Sasori certainly hadn't changed much when it came to congratulating himself, Tofu observed. And Sasori hadn't changed at all when he got the good doctor to pay for the private room. Tofu had been a bit hesitant, until he learned if he paid the premium price, it would come with an open bar. Who was he to rain on everyone's parade by being cheap when it was a reunion? Besides the guys were compensating him to a degree by paying for all his lap dances. He also noticed they were putting a dent in the stock of the bar. The Three Lushketeers were riding again.

Sometimes history needed repeating.

Tofu had forgotten how fun it was to party with friends. He hadn't done it since college, and missed it so much he wanted to shed a manly tear. Not that there were many he could party with. No one in his life understood him. His practice was solo, and he didn't want to think what would happen if he had done this sort of thing with the Avengers if he could talk them into it, which he doubted. The thought of a drunk Hulk alone made him shudder. No, he had no one in his life for this sort of thing.

And the women. He had forgotten what being around women was like. Not that he could take these ones seriously like he did Kasumi. When she had been normal he'd been fine, but now things had changed, and not for the better when it came to her. In some ways she was as brazen as the woman who was tossing her thong over his shoulder, which made him not want to take Kasumi seriously even though he wanted to.

Everything at the club had been perfect, at least until now. They wanted this as a theme night? Whatever happened to naughty nurses and cheerleaders? What was it with people wanting to dress up like costumed clowns, of which he was one of them, albeit unwillingly. Couldn't he get away from them for even one night? Thanks to Kasumi's irrational behavior, he was tormented by them on a regular basis. It really was all her fault. Why, if one of the girls was dressed up as Wasp, he would give them a firm lecture on the ridiculousness of being a hero and how she should become a proper housewife.

At least the costumes didn't stick around for long, allowing Tofu to properly enjoy the view before him without distractions. He'd never seen anyone perform a split while using their gluteus muscles to cause each cheek to bounce on the floor to the beat of the song. And stay in rhythm to it. That took some serious muscle control. He'd have to talk with her about it. It was fine since he was a doctor and it was a medical thing.

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Ranma sighed as he finished another drink his father had plopped down in front of him. He'd never seen his father so generous. Then again he'd never seen his father this lecherous. Or Soun for that matter. It was like watching Hiroshi and Daisuke on a bad day.

And for some reason Ranma was garnering way more attention from the dancers than any of the other patrons. Some of them had even slipped him their number between dances with only their hero or villain name to identify them.

And now he was dealing with 'Tigra', which was just some dancer in a furry bikini with stripes on it and fake cat ears on the top of her head. And apparently she wasn't a stickler for detail since his teammate didn't have a tail, to say nothing of the ornamental teeth and cat emblem that were missing. There was no effort into the costume.

On the other hand shaking the ample bust in Ranma's face? That was spot on with the real deal. But at least his felinoid companion didn't shake him down for money for doing it. No, this wasn't good cosplay at all.

"Hey, Baby. Want this sex kitten to make you into a fan of furries?" And she whispered her number into his ear. Normally women weren't this brazen. Then again most women weren't brazen enough to take off the clothes for money, so maybe there was a connection.

Ranma noted his father and Soun were chatting with a girl that was all but sitting simultaneously on both men's laps while talking to them. After a moment she rose up. Genma turned to Ranma. "We're getting a private room, boy."

He was not getting into an enclosed space with naked gyrating women and his father. Not happening on any plane of reality. "Gee, Pop, I'm kind of happy here because I can, um, see more girls come and go. Admire different forms and bodies. You two have fun." While he wouldn't be enjoying himself, he'd be more relaxed since he wouldn't be tacitly ignoring his father's increasingly loud reactions to everything.

As the men departed, being led by the hands by the girl, Ranma finished off another drink the nice waitress left with him, along with another phone number. Did none of these women have a boyfriend? Okay, he didn't have a girlfriend, so maybe he shouldn't be so critical. He noticed the odd sway the room had developed. Weird, he was sitting down and there shouldn't be any. Why, if it wasn't for the good ole' Super Soldier Serum, he'd think he was inebriated or something.

The DJ spoke again. "You'll recognize our next heroine as Captain Japan's bouncy sidekick, who we know is the hottest natural redhead in all of Japan. Welcome for your enjoyment: Bucky!"

Ranma scowled as the dancer took the stage in front of him. It wasn't the stripper version of his outfit, frankly his Bucky gear had been torn to smaller shreds than that on more than one occasion. It wasn't the idea of someone being a 'naked Bucky' since that happened… more often than he could easily keep track of. No, the indignation came from the fact the dancer was nowhere near hot enough to impersonate him. Okay, no one was, but it was the principle involved. The rack alone was only 2/3 the size of his own, if that.

It was more than a hero should take. He finished off the latest drink the waitress had left him, and slammed the glass down. He stood up and the room lurched out from under him. Moving floors were stupid, but he had the balance to deal with it. He was going to show this girl what happened when you messed with an official Avenger.

Ranma went into the men's room, which was vacant, and splashed cold water on herself. She exited and approached her seat again, drawing a number of stares from the patrons. Standing next to the stage, she pointed a finger at her evil doppelganger. Wait, that wasn't right. Evil mirror universe version of her? Clone?

Now she had it. "Hey, Impersonatrix, I say I'm the real Bucky and you're an impressionist."

All eyes, including the dancers, stared at the girl who would make such a bold, and stupid, proclamation. The DJ especially looked her over with a critical eye, then inspiration struck. "It looks like we have a challenge of who the hotter Bucky is. I say we resolve this in the time-honored tradition women have: a strip off!"

The room roared in approval.

The 'Impersonatrix''s eyes lit up with yen signs. A fired up crowd always tipped much better than a normal one. Even if she had to share the spotlight, she'd have more solo time. "I have an alternate version of the outfit you can use. I couldn't decide which to go with. You can use it if you're up for it."

That made the incognito hero bristle. "Ranma Saotome never backs down from a challenge." And headed in back to pick up her outfit.

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Two older men exited the club nearly at closing time, staggering and leaning against one another while singing off key music from twenty years ago.

"I tell you Saotome, this was the best night I've had in forever."

"It may have taken every last yen we had, but it was night to remember. Those girls were so friendly, and limber."

"That one in particular. Seemed into you, Saotome."

"I'm a very married man, Tendou. One whose wife would probably disown him on sight, but still married. Can't blame the girl for taste."

"Why did you ask her if she wanted to see a trick you could do with a panda? It sounded like some kind of sexual innuendo, but I didn't get it."

"Um, it was of no consequence. Probably not the right place for it."

"Did I tell you what an incredibly brilliant idea I had?"

"Aside from the fact it was my idea, yes, and you're right. The only thing is, I have this terrible feeling we're forgetting something."

"You know what they say, if you can't be bothered to remember it, it's unimportant. Let's just bask in the moment."

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One of the Many Levels of Hell:

Satana Satanadana stood mockingly over her sister, Mephista. To the casual eye, they would have looked identical. A closer observer would note the odd red marks on their faces were different. And that regardless of what they insisted, there was no way the spelling of their names should have led anyone to conclude they would sound anything like Mara.

"Dad is going to be sooo pissed with you," Satana somehow loomed even larger over her brooding sister.

"Dad lost to a lowly hillbilly with a fiddle. He has no room to crap on me for losing a wager to a normal mortal with a compulsive gambling disorder."

"Oh yes, reminding him of that is going to lessen his anger."

"Oh. Right." Mephista frowned. "Anyway it shouldn't matter. So what if I lost the Crystal of Kadavus? It's useless without the Wand of Watoomb, which we don't have, so no big loss."

"So you think that Jabami girl used a bunch of magic to come directly to Hell and bargained her soul to get the crystal because she has no use for it?"

"Should have just eaten her soul," Mephista grumbled. "We can do that if you're uninvited and traipse into Hell. Fair game."

"She offered a wager with her soul. Take it or leave it, but don't kill them anyway because you're pissy. When have we not been true to ourselves and it turned out well? Remember when Dad grabbed that Hale kid's soul just to show he could do it? Guulactus popped in and *ate* him. She literally picked him up and swallowed him whole. Nothing can physically eat Dad, but she managed it. He had to agree to reincarnate him, which he totally loathes, before she coughed him off."

Mephista laughed uproariously. "That was hilarious. We would be so much better off if he got digested by a borderline conceptual entity." But he was still in charge, and she became gloomy again. "I even rigged the game, without technically violating the rules."

"And that's why you lost. She figured it out and anticipated what you would do. You should have left it to chance." Before Satana could admonish her further, there was a thud. The women turned to see Morrigan lying on the ground, naked with a look of delirious bliss on her face.

"What happened to you?" Mephista asked.

"I lost but I won," Morrigan sighed.

"Wait until I tell you what Sis did, then I'll get you that Trekkie outfit," Satana taunted. Two sisters one-upped in a single day? This was one for the books. Maybe she could flay some demons and put salt into their wounds to really make it complete.

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Tofu Ono woke up in a strange bed. He turned to see a nude, female form next to him. For a moment his heart raced, but bliss died and disappointment reigned as he saw the woman was not Kasumi, but some other one. It took him a moment to remember what had happened the night before. After they had rented the room, the guys were buying him lap dances when one of the women learned he was a doctor, and suddenly became far friendly than mere payment deserved.

He wasn't stupid. It wasn't the first time a woman had been apathetic toward him until learning his career choice, then he was the sexiest man on the planet. They were rarely as subtle as they thought, especially the attractive ones who thought their looks could gain them entry to anything, including his bankbook. Usually he just brushed them off, but given his emotional state of late, to say nothing of the guys encouraging him, he had left with her, and she had taken them to her place where they had sex.

Tofu rose and tried to locate his clothing before he woke her, not that he cared about her feelings. Any woman stupid enough to think he wanted a relationship with her simply because they had sex deserved to be disillusioned. He knew damn well he hadn't encouraged her. The sex had been fun, though. It reminded him of what he had been missing for far too long. He needed that, in accompaniment with someone he actually wanted a relationship with.

As he dressed, Tofu decided it was time to take some serious measures to get Kasumi to come to her senses. Hoping she'd come around on her own was obviously an exercise in futility. He might have to be forceful, but it was time for the absurdity to come to an end. He wanted a relationship with her, and this whole nonsense had to disappear. He'd make her understand somehow.

No matter what it took.

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Ranma woke up on her futon in the Tendou Dojo, head pounding. Why had the Hulk stepped on her like that? And shouldn't her brain fluid be leaking out of her ears if it hurt that much?

Wait, the Hulk hadn't done that, nor some villain known as the Head Stomper. Slowly some of the details of the previous night came back. It was all clear until she had encountered… someone. Her evil alternate universe counterpart? Yes, that was it. An evil Bucky. And they had a fight in which the crowds were cheering them on. Ranma vaguely remembered the contest had been arduous, for her foe had been most agile, but while it had been close, Ranma had been victorious in the end and basked in the adoration of the crowd, who had really been happy about her triumph. It was nice to be appreciated.

As Ranma felt a sense of satisfaction at yet another foe defeated, she noticed what she was wearing. Evidently in the course of the fight her own outfit had been destroyed, and she'd been forced to use the far more risqué one of her counterpart. And evil Bucky must have robbed a bunch of places before the fight, since that was the only explanation Ranma had for all the money that was also with her. A whole lot in a variety of denominations. Too bad she had no idea who was robbed or she'd return it.

So basically it had been a terrible night except for the fight, which was the only redeeming thing about it. No more strip clubs for her, no matter how much her father demanded. It was all just a waste of money, excepting the fact she had come out way ahead. Okay two redeeming things about it. But barring another evil counterpart insisting on a fight at one, no way was it happening again.

Probably.

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End Chapter.

Yes, I have seen a woman do the split and bouncing her bottom to the beat thing. I had no idea you could gain that much muscle control. That takes some devotion to training.