Patre0n- People asked for it, so it lives. If you want to donate, I love you. If not, I still love your and would write for you regardless. It's a hobby we both love and I'll take any support you give me 😊 Special thanks to Fuyukazehime for helping the Discord n00b. Since ffnet actively deletes the proper spelling of "Patre0n" and hates links, you're going to have to figure this one out yourself- I'm at /ozzallos.
Many thanks to enthusiastic Ranma-Ryoga shipper DaisukeFox for the cover art! Find him on Deviant Art as KiyomuMitsue.
A full size version of bunny warrior Ranko is available on his account.
If you want to send me some yourself, I certainly won't say no ;)
Through and Through
By Ozzallos
Chapter I
May 15th, 20XX
"I still can't believe I'm doing this."
Nabiki Tendo sympathized, though her degree of sympathy was akin to that of a human feeling sorry for a pet or valuable possession. While its inconvenience and suffering was certainly an unfortunate fact of life, that minor emotional conflict would no more deter her from making money than it would breathing. Instead of indulging the complaint, the high school senior barely paid any attention to the comment or the redhead next to her.
"The dojo isn't going to repair itself, Saotome," The middle sister shrugged indifferently as she kept an easy pace with the pedestrian traffic around her. A female Ranma Saotome followed reluctantly while the expression on her face advertised her lack of enthusiasm in doing so. "Besides, this was the best I could do on short notice."
"Riiight." The pigtailed girl's tone clearly conveyed her skepticism even if her guide didn't care to notice. Ranma cast a sour look down at the rectangular package tucked beneath her right arm. A pink ribbon bound its contents, further offending her sensibilities. The redhead's attention returned to her tormentor. "You realize I was trying to prevent all that, right?"
"Which is why your contribution to the repairs will be less... arduous than theirs." Nabiki advised evenly, prompting the part time girl behind her to arch an eyebrow. This time, the Ice Queen cast an amused smirk back at her. "Besides, it's nothing you haven't done before. One hour, in and out."
It sounded trivial until the details were factored in. One hour. In cosplay. At a doujinshi convention. Ranma's cheek twitched as she considered the venue, but couldn't help but to wonder about the other side of the coin. If this was Nabiki's idea of a less arduous form of contribution, she could only wonder at what the sister had in mind for the others that had participated in the dojo's damage. In the end, it was irrelevant. Whatever it was her rivals were going to get saddled with, they wouldn't be getting ogled by a bunch of guys dropping by because of their eechi—
ThuNK!
She turned back to glance at the commotion, wincing as she watched some guy bounced off one of the concrete supports near the main escalator.
"Ouch." Nabiki summarized her thoughts exactly as the pair watched a crowd form around the senseless man. The Tendo sister merely chuckled at his suffering. "And that is why you don't walk with a phone glued to your face."
Ranma nodded in agreement and the two continued on their way. For Nabiki, the stricken pedestrian was beneath her notice beyond the amusement his misfortune had created for her. For Ranma, he already had more than enough people surrounding him to help, so the pair moved on. After another escalator upward, the crowds around them began to gain density as did the number of banners and posters featuring various artistic renditions of minimally dressed females. The redhead frowned more so at the occasional yaoi art they passed, prompting her to call Nabiki's attention to it.
"And this doesn't bother you." The Saotome wondered, half torn between disgust and voyeuristic fascination. "At all?"
"To coin an American saying, 'Different strokes, different folks.'" Nabiki shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the sheer volume of mostly nude cartoon art now inundating their eyeballs. She glanced back to Ranma with a smile. "Money's money after all."
'And it's all fun and games until somebody has to jump out of a coin operated helicopter,' Ranma rolled her eyes mentally but held her tongue, already knowing that a verbal rebuke wouldn't dissuade the girl in any way. Despite the missive, the martial artist knew this would likely be a mundane event and her biggest challenge was likely to come from the restraint it would take not clobber some overeager perv.
"Restroom is over there." The middle Tendo pointed out as the two drew nearer to the main entrance of the event whose population was invariably saturated by young male teens. Girls in cosplay threaded the crowd, flirting and smiling as they advertised the convention and handed out fliers. Nabiki noticed her partner's attention on them and gestured in their direction. "They're with the convention. We're not."
"We're …not?" The redhead blinked without understanding, so Nabiki elaborated.
"Nope." The Ice Queen shook her head. "Your job is to do your flirty thing and charge them five thousand yen per picture."
"…per picture?" The neo-girl arched her brow skeptically, watching as the middle sister crooked a smile.
"They'll happily pay it once they see you in that." Nabiki nodded to the box tucked beneath Ranma's arm as they continued forward. "Besides, most of these guys are single for a reason. We're just helping them dispose of their disposable income."
"Yay me." Her partner groused even as Nabiki pointed out the restrooms along the wall.
"Get changed and meet me back out here," She advised while elaborating on their plans. "If anybody asks, you most definitely work here."
Ranma produced a dejected sigh, but made her way to the restroom with package in hand. She picked her destination, pausing only to double check that she was indeed choosing the right destination for the body being worn before walking in. She even hated herself for having to do that, but sauntered in regardless while studiously ignoring the two women leaning over the sink to touch up their makeup in the mirror.
Access to a stall was quickly located and she flicked the latch behind her, tossing the box of clothing unceremoniously on the white toilet reservoir even as she unbuttoned the first clasp of her red silk shirt. Blue eyes considered the box with distain and her next act was to jerk the pink ribbon away in order to reduce its obnoxious femininity, throwing the lid aside. More obnoxious femininity resided inside, femininity that she could not so easily discard. A hair band with a pair fuzzy white bunny ears sat atop the main garment—A black, vinyl leotard.
Lacking the space within the stall, she set the black speckled ears atop her head first, nestling them gently into her red mane before holding the leotard up to be inspected. The shiny black garment straddled the line between corset and swimsuit, most notably opened in the front to expose the wearer from the low abdomen all the way up to the cups that were designed to put her cleavage on prominent display.
Though there was still a healthy amount of irritation in having to wear it, the neo girl's ego was more than happy to note that it was a garment she would look damn good in and thus continued to disrobe. Ranma hung her red silk top on the door hook and stripped from her pants, hesitating at the boxers she wore. They would have to go too, unfortunately. The swimsuit corset obviously hadn't been designed for any level of modesty, which meant next to no consideration for undergarments of any sort. The shorts came off and the costume slid on, wrapping around her neck and shoulders with thin straps crossed down her back for support.
Unfortunately, she wasn't done yet. The character she had been roped into cosplaying had accessories, including strappy thigh-high heeled boots and a pair of similarly black vambraces. She slipped into them as well, then fingered the final piece of her costume, a braided black headpiece specially made to slip over the ears already in place atop her head.
The martial artist unceremoniously dumped her silks into the empty box and threw the latch, exiting the stall as someone completely different from the person that had entered. She glanced at the wall mirror as she stepped out, cocking her head. According to Nabiki, she was now 'Fran,' a character from a game she knew nothing about.
'At least they'll trip over themselves to get a picture,' Ranma decided with a smirk, pushing the cups supporting her breasts up while momentarily suffering a lapse in gender awareness. She eyed her new bunny persona critically for a moment and made a final adjustment, pulling the tie from her pigtail. Red hair flowed down to her shoulders and she nodded in satisfaction. 'Might as well get this over—'
"They're coming up! RUN!"
"-Killing people!"
"Police! Somebody call the AIIIEEGHHH!
The martial artist's eyes widened as the screams, both male and female, echoed into the restroom from outside. The clash of metal and angry cries intermingled with screams of terror seconds later and Ranma was out of the stall even as several women and a man burst in, screaming at her as they clamored for the stalls.
'What the hell is going—'
"Don't go out there!" A bald, middle aged salaryman screamed, tugging her back by the sleeve.
Ranma stared with wide eyes at the man's panic as he tried to pull her into one of the stalls. "They're killing everybody!
"But who's-?!" The bewildered martial artist demanded as the man tugged at her. Another scream pitched from outside the restroom door and she twisted out of his grasp.
Five quick steps brought her to the bathrooms exit and she threw open the door, nearly taking steel to the face. She subconsciously noted the tarnished metal she had dodged on reflex as representing the broad head of a battle axe and that its owner was a wall of mottled green muscle. Another martial artist might have been startled that their attacker appeared to be a two-meter monster with sunken, beady eyes and a jutting jaw filled with blunt teeth, but for Ranma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts, that was par for the course. The same reflexes that had saved her head from being cleaved in half immediately reacted to the creatures overly committed swing, targeting one of the arms bearing the axe seeking her demise.
Snap!
The redhead expertly judged the force necessary to pop the joint based on the creature's build and stepped in even as its beady eyes widened in shock with the miss. The palm of her hand came up as its arm came down and the joint buckled, inciting a bellowing rage of pain from her opponent. The weapon tumbled out of the monster's hand but Ranma was already spinning, her leg now lined up with the green humanoids kneecap.
"RAAWWWeeiiGHHH!" The orc screamed as its balance was terminally compromised. It fell to the ground, clutching its leg in pain even as the human girl stepped passed it, her attention drawn to the slaughter in progress beyond. Ranma stared with wide eyes, barely believing what she was seeing. It was like a scene from some medieval fantasy as armored humans rushed up the escalator and onto the convention floor, pursuing unarmed civilians. Her blue eyes widened in horror as several of the fleeing victims fell behind and were promptly impaled or bludgeoned to death.
A screaming woman ran past and behind her; a trio of the medieval barbarians with weapons raised, clearly intending to kill her. The martial arts heir's cheek twitched with a frown and deemed it appropriate to intervene.
The trio was so focused on running their victim down that the redhead's opening move caught all three by complete surprise. They were armored after a fashion—Two in unkept leather and chain repectively, with the third in plate. In the open field, the pitted chainmail would have provided some protection against casual slashes, while the third's plate represented more substantial protection against punctures and determined strikes. None of it would dissuade the martial artist, who in turn ignored the obvious protection completely in favor of the more exposed vitals.
Her first victim's head snapped back as the back of her fist blindsided him, instantly rendering the vaguely Caucasian warrior unconscious; his nose flattened in a splatter of blood. Ranma was on the second barbarian just as the thought that she could be a threat was forming in his mind, grabbing his sword arm and rotating back well beyond the joint's ability to flex. The arm was neatly popped out of its socket as the cosplay bunny passed into melee range, forcing his sword to the ground in agony. His chain mail afforded him no protection against the open-handed strike and its kinetic energy that emptied his lungs of air, momentarily deprived him of the ability to even breathe. The brief time that it had taken to dispatch her first two opponents had allowed the third to actually respond to her as a threat and his sword arm tensed.
"Bun-bun su-GaaAAAHHH!" His clipped foreign challenge ended in a painful yelp as the stroke of his bastard sword was intercepted at the wrist by Ranma own hand, then painfully twisted around to be snapped. The shorter girl then yanked at his arm, pulling down hard. Suddenly, his face promptly met her unyielding knee.
Crack! CrackCrack!
Gunfire punctuated her opponent's boneless flop to the floor, startling the redhead as a police officer in blue drew his sidearm to engage the murderous invaders on the opposite side of the hall. His target was a barely armored, red-skinned creature with sharp, angular facial features and a hunched back that almost brought it up to her own height. The first shot missed entirely as the uniformed officer deployed his Smith and Wesson Model 360J in a panic, but then firmed up his stance and took the next two in rapid succession. They were center of mass impacts, staggering the creature and distracting it from its already bloodied victim.
Against a human they would have been lethal hits, but most people didn't wear chain mail or could claim the ownership of two hearts. Worse still, the revolver round was by no means armor piercing on its best day. Even though the .38 caliber bullet breached the ragged garment of interlocking metal rings, it failed to retain enough kinetic energy to kill the monster... At least not immediately. The internal bleeding created by the two full metal jacket rounds lodged in the creature's lungs were definitely fatal, but would not see that outcome for another thirteen minutes. In the here and now, however, the thing was still standing. And pissed off.
The wounded beast screamed hatefully back at its tormentor; the victim now forgotten. It snatched a dagger out of the chest of the bleeding woman and charged the officer. Another panicked shot rang out but went wide while the creature sprinted into melee range, only to receive a folding metal chair to the side of the head. The officer's eyes widened as the frame imparted enough force to throw the monster to the ground, giving him enough time to catch a glimpse of its thrower—A red headed bunny girl with very displeased look. She was a cosplayer. Probably. In either case, the officer didn't have much time to speculate as his own attacker began to untangle itself from the chairs frame, but it gave him all the time in the world to line up his next shot.
The revolver jumped in his hands and much as he wanted to be sick over the blood oozing from the head shot, there was literally no time. More of the medieval horde was advancing up the escalator now even as the redhead on his left flank dropped another man in antiquated armor. She dragged his body over to the officer, whose gaze flicked from her to the soldiers who were running out of easy victims.
"You… work here?" He asked and the vinyl clad redhead simply nodded, releasing her victim's breast plate so he could flop down to the tile floor sans consciousness.
"You could say that," Ranma returned, staring warily as a small platoon's worth of the anachronists turned their attention toward the pair. "Don't suppose you know what the hell is going on, do ya?"
"Not a goddamn clue." The officer admitted as he triggered the cylinder release on his revolver to dump the spent brass before hastily stuffing more rounds into the six-shooter. He gestured back to the convention hall behind them where the majority of the civilians had retreated. "I'll buy you some time. Try and find a fire exit or something."
"Your odds with that thing ain't that great," The teenage girl quipped in a seemingly unlikely display of bravado. The liberally dressed cosplayer stepped out in front of the officer and it was only the gravity of the situation that kept gravity from dragging his eyeballs down her gifted figure. "How about I buy you some time instead."
"BUN-BUN GARA-KE!"
Both defenders noted that the attacker's attention was now riveted solely on the redhead with the battle cry, causing both to look at each other as more weapons were drawn in their direction. Even the officer himself glanced at the girl beside him, wondering what was so special about her… Aside being vinyl bunny goddess dressed to kill.
"Maybe they don't like cosplay." The officer deadpanned and brought the gun up on target as his own show of force.
"Maybe it's time we kick their asses." She countered with a displeased frown, cracking her knuckles even as she squared off against them. The sight was an unlikely one for the uniformed officer, but one he was willing to accept after nearly being run down by the red skinned thing three meters to his left. Humorous or not, the cosplay girl was four to his one. Her confidence in her own abilities was exemplified as she raised her arm, pointing out to the marauders beyond with an arrogant smirk playing about her lips. Her finger twitched, motioning them to come to her. "Let's do this."
A raucous battle cry met her challenge and no less than thirteen medieval solders charged her position. The dominant weapon was the blade, and swords of various lengths swept in to cut the redhead down. The sheer number of combatants seeking assail her actually worked to Ranma's advantage as she picked her engagement vectors carefully, denying many of her attackers the ability to strike her down simply by using their own as human shields.
The redheaded cosplayer was inside their ranks within moments, whirling between sword and armor even as foot and fist found their targets with crippling precision. The sound of gunshots slapped against her eardrums as her open palm cracked a scruffy brown-haired soldier's ribcage. A taller man clad in heavier armor took two shots to the chest off her left flank, pricking his armor with a pair of tiny thirty-caliber holes before another found his jaw, sending him tumbling to the ground. Ranma's roundhouse kick found another fighter's jaw even as she multitasked with her left hand, batting the flat of an encroaching short sword away while her first target's head snapped violently left.
Officer Gaara triggered the cylinder release of his revolver almost as quickly as recoil allowed, dumping more spent shells onto the tile while pulling reloads from his belt, trying to slip the six bullets back in by twos. One fell to join the other empty brass, but there was no time to retrieve the errant round. He snapped the cylinder closed and dumped the five remaining rounds into the anything the girl hadn't engaged even as another two bodies tumbled away from the melee. She was barely visible within the melee, but the flash of red hair within ensured the law enforcement officer that she was not only still alive, but kicking ass. What she wore no longer mattered to the officer as he counted off the last shot in his revolver. She was a martial artist; a black belt, grand master or something. Though he had basic training in police taiho-jutsu, the girl's technique easily eclipsed that and another body went down even as he thumbed the release for another reload. What that sort of talent was doing cosplaying for a doujinshi convention he had no idea, but he and the four bullets left on his belt were happy to be in her company regardless.
A wall of green muscle lumbered up to join the melee and Gaara took careful aim as it sighted the redhead and stepped off the now immobile escalator, hefting its double-bladed battle axe. He fingered the trigger and the last round in the revolvers cylinder departed, sending the one hundred fifty eight grain bullet down the Smith and Wesson's barrel at two-hundred and forty-three meters per second. The cluster of fighters had ignored him and the threat his pistol represented and the officer had used that to his advantage, taking several seconds to line up his sights for a head shot. The bullet's flight time was well under a second and when it hit, snapped the green monstrosities head back, causing it to stagger with a howling roar of pain.
It didn't fall.
The shot had, however, successfully earned the three-meter-tall giant's undivided attention as it scrapped the flattened lead off its forehead to reveal little more than broken skin oozing green blood.
"Oh shit." Gaara stared with wide eyes as the monster snarled at him and began to wade through the redhead's brawl in order to get him first. The stunned officer mechanically thumbed the cylinder release, letting the brass slide out while he dug for the last four rounds off his belt. The monster's hand caught one of its own allies and the suit of armor flew out of the way, sending him crashing into the far wall along a high arc. It kicked another ally out of its way while the cosplay martial arts girl ducked under another swat.
One. Two. Three. Four. The officer dropped the rounds into their chambers without even looking and snapped it closed. He brought the weapon up and triggered the next round without even sighting it. There was no way he could miss.
One. The bullet achieved penetration up around its left pectoral muscle to produce a hole and blood. Two. Another small hole welled up with blood as its abdomen twitched with the impact. Three. The attempt at a headshot went low, passing through the monster's neck in a spray of blood that in no way stopped it. The creature bellowed its rage again and lifted the battle axe to the ready. Four. A center of mass shot. Green blood spattered but the unworldly creature advanced regardless.
Click.
Officer Gaara took a fearful step back as his gun ran dry. The creature raised its weapon higher as it lumbered into close combat range. Gaara pulled the trigger again on the empty gun, now unable to tear his terrified gaze away from its blood red eyes. Sharpened teeth seemed to produce a cruel smile for him as the battle axe reached its apex.
"OhGodOhGodOhGod…" The man chanted mindlessly and pulled the trigger again.
Crack!CRACKCRACKCRACKCrack!Crack!
The monster's chest suddenly blossomed with green spray as its flesh was torn open by a mass salvo of pistol fire. Two more police officers and a man in plain clothes ran up to array themselves behind Gaara, unloading their own side arms into the thing. The creature staggered back once more, this time dropping the axe as it brought its arms up to shield itself. The police reinforcements were forced to reload first as they expended the meager load of their revolvers. The plain clothes detective's Sig P220 lasted only second longer than its revolver counterparts before its magazine was likewise depleted.
"Reload! Reload, dammit!"
"RWAARRAAAaaR!" The enraged beast screamed, throwing its pot marked arms aside to reveal its bloody chest and the superficial wounds that had torn it open. It lowered its stance and tensed. There was no way they would all be able to reload before it—
The beast abruptly lost balance as its right knee was kicked out from beneath and behind, staggering the monster while successfully distracting it from the would-be victims. The green monster shrieked in rage, trying to twist around to grasp at its attacker, only to have the previously ignored redhead use the momentum to grab the arm and twist it around into a lock to flip the beast to the ground with a hard thud. Ranma rolled in with it, straddling it's chest in order to savage its face with a right cross now that they were both on the same level. The jaw broke with its passage, but the flailing monster wasn't rendered unconscious until a second, then third application of her fist. The redhead raised her hand up for a fourth strike, but the senseless, bloodied face told her another wouldn't be necessary.
Four wide eyed police officer watched as the shapely bunny girl returned to stand, now the sole combatant left standing amid one beaten giant thing and a dozen unconscious medieval soldiers. Her black vinyl was now in less than pristine condition; sliced, ragged and splattered with red blood while the girl herself appeared little worse for the wear save the occasional superficial cut or scrape. The plain-clothes detective stepped up to officer Gaara, eyeing the beautiful girl cautiously.
"Is she even human?" He stared; somewhat dumbfounded that the comparatively shorter teenage girl had been able to take down something several dozen bullets had only managed to piss off.
"Yeah. She is. At least I think she is." The police officer nodded, also awestruck but having the advantage of already having seen her in action.
"As hot as that is, we need to leave. Now." Another officer stressed quietly as the cosplay vinyl bunny warrior stepped over an inert body to join them.
The detective nodded his compliance as his attention was refocused back to the task at hand. "We're falling back to the fire escape. We've got most of everybody from up here evacuated to an underground garage. You're welcome to join us."
More battle cries and the sounds of fighting could be heard from the lower levels of the convention center as the martial artist considered the offer. If everybody from the convention was down there, that was probably where Nabiki was too. Like it or not, the girl was still- Another scream pierced the air; this one clearly in agony before being cut off abruptly. Ranma cheek twitched as a dire expression formed along her lips.
Nabiki would have to wait.
"Thanks, but you guys better get going." The redheaded cosplay girl advised grimly. The officers watched as the martial artist flipped one of the dilapidated bunny ears back up off her forehead, turning away toward the escalator. Another series of screams followed more war cries and she glanced back over her shoulder as if they were the punctuation to her next remark. "Got shit to do."
Gaara nodded faintly as she vaulted the railing and disappeared, somehow knowing that the shit happening on the level below was about to get real.
July 2nd, 20XX -
"I want that transition faster, Sergeant!" Captain Oba hollered, all but screaming at a soldier in green fatigues as the recipient of his remediation dropped the black AR pattern rifle. The sling around his body went taught, arresting its fall while the soldier himself drew the pistol from the holster to engage the paper target five meters in front of him.
The square-jawed Captain scrutinized his subordinate's performance while continuing with his loud instruction. "If you think some medieval, sword swinging asshole is going to cut you some slack just because you have a rifle, you're sadly mistaken!"
"Yes, Captain!" The soldier acknowledged briskly, holstering his pistol and returning his grip to the black rifle as he reset his stance. Around him, other soldiers practiced the same transition in a line up and down the indoor range and the tanned officer turned to the presence next to him with an apology. "Sorry about that, Sir. You were saying?"
"It's fine." Lieutenant General Hazama nodded back, watching the team of six continue the drill as he spoke. "As I was saying, we're considering swapping out the H-Ks for Howas if and when the main force goes through."
The Captain beside him arched an eyebrow, eyeing his superior with a measure of uncertainty. "That's going to add a lot of extra weight. I'm aware they have dragons, but seven-six-two is a bit overkill for old fashioned plate; even those cavalry guys."
"Public Intelligence has found abnormalities in their gear." The mustachioed commanded officer offered somewhat sympathetically as his subordinate waited for the explanation that was coming. "A batch of armor they have is showing… anomalies. Metallurgy says its low-grade steel, but the stuff is somehow stronger and lighter than that."
"How much stronger and lighter?" Captain Oba wondered cautiously and the lieutenant general offered him the tablet he held, explaining as his subordinate studied the information.
"It's amazingly resistant to five-five-six; enough so to negate the round's weight advantages." The commanding officer explained, allowing the tablet's information to fill in the specifics. "So far we've only found it on their commanding officers, but seven-six-two NATO seemed to breach the examples Intel obtained more reliably."
The Captain rubbed the gray stubble of his buzz cut appreciably, frowning at the data he was reading. Any rifle cartridge made within the last one-hundred years would punch through medieval plate armor and even some handgun cartridges, but what he was reading was nearly impossible for the mediocre quality of armor he was seeing here.
"Will Recon Five be moving to the Howas as well, Sir?" He inquired of his superior even as he handed the tablet back to the man, who shook his head in turn.
"If you're engaging line cavalry, you're doing it wrong." The commanding officer quirked the slightest of smiles, then nodded to the rifles the soldiers were practicing with. "No. I need the recon teams light and mobile. The HK416s are ideal for that."
"Agreed, sir." Oba nodded amicably; sufficiently mollified that he wouldn't be seeing the antiquated hardware attached to his unit.
"Other than that, how is the unit coming together?" Lieutenant general inquired a he tapped more data into his tablet.
"On schedule and exceeding benchmarks," He motioned out to the soldiers practicing beyond. "We'll be ready ahead of schedule…"
His report trailed off into reluctance and the Hazama turned his study upon the man whose face was now carefully neutral. His superior adopted a bland expression. "I hear a 'but'. Out with it, Dashi."
"About Lieutenant Kiba Mihoshi, Sir," The subordinate's face warped into displeasure as he sighted the female at the far end of the exercise hall. Unlike the other rifles, hers was a longer M40A1 sniper rifle. Both watched as she transitioned from it to the P220 sidearm to take a simulated shot at the paper target just beyond her position. "I just don't feel she is a good fit for the unit, Sir."
The Lieutenant General stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. "You mean she's not a good fit because she's a woman."
"And she's Public Intelligence." Oba added, not bothering to deny the first charge.
The mustachioed officer held the man's discontent for a moment before simply shaking his head patiently. "That ship sailed a while ago, Captain. Suck it up- That's an order."
"Yes, Sir." The man acknowledged reluctantly and Hazama continued without sympathy.
"That said, I'm about to make your life more difficult." The Lieutenant General advised, handing his tablet back to Captain Oba. The picture of a redheaded Japanese teenage girl dominated the screen. "Recognize her?"
The captain cocked his head with a slight smirk, glancing back at his superior. "Who doesn't? She's nearly as famous as First Lieutenant Itami. Hell, I'm pretty sure I can find a pinup of her in nearly every barracks on base after what she did."
He tapped one of the links listed next to her picture and a video began to stream, showing the cosplay redhead executing an aerial takedown of some heavily armored general from his horse while negotiating the swords of his entourage. Oba knew how this particular engagement ended because he had seen the clip before, as had nearly all of the men and most of the women on base. It was hardly the only one. Her exploits had been recorded by nearly two dozen CCTV cameras, not to mention the cellphone footage from the people she was rescuing. The fact that she had done it all in a revealing black vinyl bunny suit only served to make her wildly popular amongst the male element of the JSDF while elevating her to nearly legendary amongst the females.
"And then she just vanished." The commanding officer gestured to the video clip as it ran. The bunny girl was now actively engaged by half a dozen swords, yet holding her own courtesy of the blade she had stripped from the rider in one hand and a short sword in the other.
"JSDF and Public Intelligence were somewhat eager to debrief her, if I recall correctly." Oba commented, watching as another body dropped when the soldier's kneecap was painfully compromised by her foot.
"Very eager, in this case." His commander agreed as his finger encroached on the screen, swiping it sideways. A pair of pictures appeared; one of a black-haired teen with blue-gray eyes and the second of the girl herself. "Took a bit, but we found her."
"And her brother?" The captain blinked, studying the pair of pictures.
"No; they're one in the same." Kōichirō correct the man. "Meet Ranma Saotome, heir to an exotic interdisciplinary martial arts school. Seventeen years old, lives close by, in fact. Oddly enough, he suffers from a condition that changes him from male to female and back."
Oba arched an eyebrow as the general pointed out the distinction. "No offense, Sir, but that's impossible."
"And that's what I said until Public Intel got to digging up and forwarded us his file." The officer continued, gesturing to the text portion of the page. "The kid's life might as well have been pulled straight from some martial arts action manga. Nerima PD apparently has a habit of handling most of it locally, but some of the more notable incidents didn't exactly fly under the radar."
"Such as…? The captain asked warily, now completely unsure as to where this was all leading or what it had to do with him.
"You might remember the Mount Horio eruption?" The brown-haired man continued, indicating that he should turn to the next page. Oba slide his fingers across the screen and more pictures denoting the redhead and another person in scaled armor locked in combat. "That was actually a dispute between these two—Ranma Saotome and Prince Herb of the Musk."
"Prince… Herb? Musk?" His subordinate blinked, barely following the names.
"Likewise, the nuclear test the Chinese performed six months back… The one we thought was part of their suitcase nuke program?" This time the Lieutenant General turned the page for him in order to view what looked to be a satellite image and a barely discernable flash seen from orbit amongst the mountains. "An altercation between the boy and a tribe known as The Phoenix in an op to retrieve Japanese nationals."
"I… Alright, but with all due respect…"
"…What does this have to do with you?" Lieutenant General Hazama finished for him and the man nodded. "Public Intelligence is retrieving him even as we speak. Simply put, I'm attaching him to Recon Five."
"She—he's a civilian, Sir," Captain Oba pointed out warily as he expressed his doubts. "Integrating him into a military unit this late in the game isn't advisable."
"There are mitigating circumstances, but suffice to say we have no idea what is on the other side of that thing." The general elaborated as his finger slid across the tablet they were sharing to bring up another file for the captain to read. "While I have no doubt as to the skills and abilities of your men, it has occurred to command that we need at least one specialist that can deal with any opposition on its own terms."
"Recon Five is fully prepared to deal, Sir." Oba returned defensively and watched the general shake his head.
"Can any of the men in your outfit swing a sword?" Lieutenant General Kōichirō Hazama, asked, ignoring the man's attitude for the moment. The Captain opened his mouth to reply, only to be overridden. "Can they use one to hold off seven individuals simultaneously? Can they engage one of the green giants in hand-to-hand combat without so much as a knife and emerge victorious? Because that's what she did. He did. Whatever. In fact, Public Intelligence reports that she made such an impression that at least a quarter of the captured enemy combatants know her picture on sight."
Oba glanced down at his line of soldiers who were now watching the meeting with various levels of interest before trying for one last objection to having what amounted to a civilian advisor attached to his unit.
"He's hasn't been trained in military protocols, weapons or tactics." The gray-haired captain's face wrinkled with distinct displeasure and his commanding officer nodded.
"Then it'll be up to your unit to get him up to speed." His superior acknowledged, but continued regardless. "Assuming he accepts the offer, expect him within the next forty-eight hours. I want his paperwork on my desk within seventy-two."
"Yes, Sir."
"And Captain, no shenanigans." The general glanced over his shoulder has he began to walk away. "I know this isn't scenario either of us would have preferred, but the amount of effort the JSDF expended to find him should tell you something. There are a lot of individuals who see themselves as owing this kid. Some of them are even important. Do you understand what I am saying?"
"Yes, Sir." Captain Oba replied carefully, receiving the point loud and clear. There would be no last minute loss of his paperwork, nor harassment of any sort that might usually accompany an undesirable element joining a unit. The older man nodded, content that an understanding had been reached and departed the practice hall even as the remainder of his team wondered what in the hell had just happened.
"Prepare to die, Ranma!"
Life had returned to normal.
Almost.
Ryoga's fist plunged in but failed to achieve physical contact as the pigtailed martial artist pulled back, bending just out of reach of the arm's fullest extension. Instead of engaging the Lost boy, Ranma took the moment to send an imploring glance back at the girl watching the fight from the sidewalk with bland disinterest writ across her face.
"Come on," he pleaded as he dodged the follow-up kick to his midsection. "Tell him I wasn't flirtin' with her, already!"
"It sure looked like flirting to me." Akane Tendo looked away with a sniff, as if the traffic slowing down along the street to watch the fight was more important than the actual fight itself. Ranma simply rolled his eyes at her lack of sympathy and snatched an over-extended right cross from the air and pulled Ryoga into him with its momentum. The pigtailed boy stepped out of the way and gave his opponent a trip as he passed, causing Ryoga to stumble. For a moment, the scene changed in Ranma's mind. Instead of a perpetually lost boy, a medieval soldier took his place with a sword thrust. Reality intrude upon the memory in the form of a spinning kick that forced Ranma to hop away in order to avoid its intersection with his face. It also forced unwelcome introspection upon the martial artist.
The Ginza Incident was still nightly news even two months later, but its prominence as a front-page headline had slowly diminished into a mere reminder. Major news stories concerning the invasion and subsequent cabinet level investigations had begun to taper off into bi-lines concerning humanitarian interviews and talk show pieces speculating the on origins of the medieval barbarians that had invaded. The Gate itself was no small item of interest, of course, generating both local and international interest over the fact of not only extra-terrestrial life, but inter-dimensional travel.
Despite the tumult, little had changed for the average Japanese citizen and the same could be said for Ranma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts. Occasionally he would catch one of those news bites and every once in a while, he would see a clip of the incident itself… And an embattled redhead wading through the barbarian hoard invading Ginza.
It wasn't fame the martial artist wasn't eager to cash in on.
First there was the principle of it. If you had to scream that you were the best to everybody listening, you probably never were. Second… there was Nabiki. Technically, he didn't owe her anything. She swindled. She blackmailed. She was the one who had roped him into the doujinshi convention and she was the reason for the bunny costume. She would undoubtable pocket the majority of the profits from that business venture, funneling only the bare minimum necessary back to help repair the dojo…
…If she were still alive.
Out of the eight hundred and sixty-three dead, fifty-two victims were unaccounted for; their remains simply unidentifiable or missing. Nabiki Tendo fell into the latter categories. As much as Ranma wanted to believe she was still alive, the middle sister was a just normal girl in the midst of a full-on medieval invasion complete with giants and dragons. They were still checking the missing persons boards, but she was gone and life had more or less returned to normal…
…Almost.
It was amazing how little impact Nabiki's death had on daily life. The first month was the hardest and Ranma didn't exactly blame Mister Tendo when he lashed out, demanding to know why the son of Genma and Nodoka Saotome hadn't protected his daughter better. It was a question Ranma still didn't have a good answer to, and being in the wrong place at the wrong time didn't seem adequate. Akane and Kasumi grieved with their father at the funeral, and Nabiki's passing earned an announcement Furinkan PA accompanied by a moment of silence. After that, life went on. The other fiancées certainly didn't care that the Ice Queen had passed and the school at large was mostly apathetic to the event. Ryoga's fist certainly didn't care.
Ranma Saotome, however, did. And it manifested itself in a hard strike to the lost boy's ribs as punishment for leaving his flank open. The forced exhale of air met Ranma's ears and he capitalized on the opening, batting Ryoga's next punch aside with the back of his hand while his right buried itself in his rival's stomach.
No, Ranma Saotome didn't have much in the way of emotional attachment when it came to Nabiki Tendo, but her loss marked the failure of his martial arts ethos and that bitter aftertaste of emotion surfaced even as Ryoga issue his declaration of war.
"You enemy of—OOOooF!"
The pigtailed boy's fist sank into his rival's stomach, causing his eyes to budge as the air in his lungs was forced out. Ryoga sank into it, momentarily gaging on his own bile when the following uppercut met his chin. The world turned off for a moment before snapping back into existence where he realized he was falling backward in slow motion. Ranma was there as well, his elbow already driving down into his sternum as if gravity need further assistance in grounding the Lost Boy.
The sound of shattered concrete and a cloud of rising debris signaled the end of the fight.
"You didn't have to hit him so hard, moron!" Akane balked, shoving her part-time fiancé to the side as she rushed to the edge of the concrete crater in concern.
"He can take it." Ranma returned blandly, surveying the damage for himself. The bandanaed boy was scrapped, bruised and even bloodied in some places. The groan of pain likewise indicated that his prognosis was spot on, though Ranma was sure Akane helping Ryoga to sit upright wasn't going to help matters.
Akane spared the wheezing boy in her arms a sympathetic look before offering a reproving stare up at her fiancé. "Well I'm taking him to Doctor Tofu's."
Implicit in her statement was the fact that his help wouldn't be required, so he shrugged even as a more humorous thought worked its way through his thoughts. With any luck, they wouldn't end up in South America on their way to the doctor.
'Yeah, good luck with that.' Ranma smirked internally and set his own course in the opposite direction. It was a smirk that didn't last very long as the ghost of Nabiki's passing forced him to contemplate what had changed even though little had. Akane's patience was at an all-time low since the event and if he wanted to be honest, so was his. They had endured kidnappers, challengers and even self-proclaimed gods. A mediaeval horde invading lower Tokyo would have just been icing on the cake of stupidity if Nabiki hadn't died in the event.
Unfortunately, that lower tolerance for stupidity went in both directions.
Ranma cocked his head as he crossed the street with the rest of the pedestrian traffic. On second thought, things hadn't changed one damn bit with Nabiki's passing and it was an almost depressing realization.
'Same ol', Same ol', I guess.' The teen sighed and made a right at the next block where he normally would have taken a left. In fact, his route home seemed to be the only thing that had changed. Until he was back in Mister Tendo's good graces, Ranma Saotome, man amongst men, would be staying with his mother. Ranma rolled his eyes at the thought, then turned his gaze toward a yakitori cart just across the street. Plying the vendor with the female charms of his girl-type was briefly considered, but even that idea brought with it its own mental baggage—He had money. He could afford to buy the food as opposed to using the feminine wiles of his other body to obtain it.
…Something he would never be able to do if Nabiki were still alive.
"Dammit." The martial artist mumbled aloud. Even in death she was making his life miserable and he was about to continue walking until the sound of an engine idling in close proximity drew his attention. He glanced back over his shoulder and watched as a black sedan pulled to the side of the road behind him. Something about the driver drew the hairs on his neck up. He was in a black suit jacket wearing a black tie with black sunglasses. He noted the passenger seat next to him was empty as the car slowly coasted parallel to him, while the rear windows themselves were so darkly tinted that it was impossible to discern the car's occupancy beyond the driver himself.
Ranma's own pace slowed as the car matched his speed, finally stopping next to him as one of the impenetrable black tinted windows slid down with the slightest mechanical whirl. Inside, a middle-aged man wearing light brown overcoat with a similarly black suit and tie beneath leaned across the nearest seat to sight the martial artist.
"Ranma Saotome, I presume?"
Ranma leaned down himself to get a better view of the car's occupant, arching a skeptical brow as he studied the broad man. "Depends on who wants to know."
"Taro Kanno," The man nodded graciously, as if having expected the reaction while the driver got out to open the door for Ranma. "The Japanese Government would like a word with you concerning your involvement in the Ginza Incident, Saotome-san."
Ranma's mouth opened as a witty retort found its way to the tip of his tongue… And faltered as the driver opened the passenger door expectantly for him. He stared into the open compartment and the man in the far passenger seat, somehow knowing that this day was inevitable in its coming. The martial artist sighed and ducked in, taking the seat next to the man as the door closed behind him. The driver returned to his position and the middle-aged man next to Ranma tapped on the driver's shoulder. "The long route, please."
"Yes, Sir."
The slight lurch of acceleration accompanied the driver's compliance with the request, but Ranma wasn't paying attention to him or his destination. His study was on the older man as he shuffled through a manila folder, then looked up with a serious expression. "Quite a record you have here. Almost unbelievable."
"I get that a lot." Ranma stated plainly and watched as the man settled on one paper copy in particular.
"Then let me give you something you don't get on a regular basis," The government agent smiled enigmatically as he handed the paper to Ranma. "For rising to the defense of the citizens and government of Japan in such an extraordinary manner, we would like to award you the Red Ribbon Medal of Honor."
Ranma's eyes widened, staring at the piece of paper he was being handed as if it were a snake while trying to connect his brain to mouth. "I…that's-"
"Normally there would be more ceremony associated with this, of course, but you've made yourself somewhat difficult to locate." The middle-aged man state offhandedly, all but forcing the paper into the teen's hand. "When there's time, we'll arrange to conduct this in a proper setting, but suffice to say, you have the gratitude of a nation."
Ranma stared at the piece of paper he had been handed, skimming the text until his eyes fell upon the official seal and signature of the Prime Minister. He was just about to either thank the man or object to the award- he wasn't sure which -when something about his statement clicked.
Time.
Why wasn't there enough time? The thought lanced through his mind, interrupting anything the teen had been about to say. Not that Ranma Saotome needed a ceremony to tell him how great he was, but why later? Why the car, even, let alone the long drive? His study flicked back up to the man, who seemed to be patiently waiting on his response. It felt all too much like he was getting a new fiancée, prompting the teen to move forward more cautiously than he normally would have.
"This is great and all, but…" Ranma admitted hesitantly, gesturing to the paper in hand while watching the man carefully. He really didn't have anything to say after that, but the man merely nodded, as if to acknowledge the unspoken observation.
"But there isn't time." The agent stated and began to shuffle through the stack once again. "I apologize for the cloak and dagger circumstances, but the fewer people that know, the better."
"About the award?" Ranma blinked. The concept seemed to be antithetical to the act of receiving an award in the first place.
"What I am about to show you is being held at the highest levels of secrecy." The middle-aged man advised, holding a small stack of stabled papers aloft. "Please do not disseminated or even hint at your awareness of what I am about to show you to others."
The pigtailed boy could only stare, eyeing the piece of paper warily even as he wondered just what he was getting himself into. Regardless he nodded. "My word as a martial artist."
The man nodded in kind and handed him the stack. On it titled in bold letters was were the words "OPERATION: BRIGHT CALIBER" stamped with the red "SECRET" seal haphazardly applied to the body of the document.
"The Battle of Ginza is common knowledge as is the speculation that it is a porthole to another world," The government offical explained as Ranma tried to derive his own meaning from the document. "What isn't known to the world is that we are about to push back and confront whoever was responsible for the attack."
Ranma's head snapped up as the incredulity of his statement found a home within his thoughts. "We're gonna invade another world?"
"Technically, no." The man offered with a dismissive gesture, yet the glint in his eye was unmistakable. "Japan merely has a self-defense force. The fact that we've been attacked obligates us to use it. I'm sure you understand."
He did. Ranma's mindset ignored the overt rationalization as it was applied to his martial arts experience. Technically he had been attacked by Ryoga not half an hour earlier. And technically he had self-defensed Ryoga right into his own personal crater. Somehow, he didn't think it would be any different with the Japanese Self Defense Force and Ranma nodded his understanding to the individual watching him.
"It sounds reasonable until you realize that Japan hasn't assembled an expeditionary force of this magnitude since World War Two." The government representative continued, seeing the teen's understanding. "Since this will be a unilateral action without international assistance, it will be necessary to marshal our supplies and forces over the next several months. The JSDF will make its move in the near future.
Ranma could only nod dumbly. He had been picked up by the government, awarded a medal and was now being briefed on an operation concerning the invasion of another world. A single, overriding question dominated all of this, however.
"But why are you even telling me all this?"
"Perhaps we've gotten ahead of ourselves," The agent paused with a thin smile. He set the folder aside, crossing his hands. "Reconnaissance teams are being assembled in advance of the main force. We would like to offer you a position on one of those teams."
The teen's mouth opened, snapped shut, then reopened as a number of thoughts vied for his attention. He was still busy parsing them as the man continued, using Ranma's stunned silence to his advantage.
"Frankly, we have no idea what is on the other side." The agent admitted, shaking his head. "You've already seen the giants and dragons. Public Intelligence has it on good authority that we may even encounter something like magic. The JSDF needs somebody who can go toe-to-toe with those types of threats and your resume speaks for itself."
A job. The sedan. The briefing. He was being offered a job. With the Japanese Self Defense Force. Any train of thought he had managed to board through the previous quagmire was successfully derailed back into vocal silence with the realization.
"And while I hesitate to put too fine a point on it, you're a national hero in many circles." The middle-aged man added, causing the teen to fix him with an incredulous look. "The politicians involved see your participation as strengthening public support once Bright Caliber becomes common knowledge."
"I… I don't know…" Ranma returned hesitantly, shaking his head. It was a lot to take in. Defending a bunch of civilians was one thing. Taking that fight to another world, however… He looked up from the paper he held and shook his head as his decision firmed up along those lines of thought. "Look, I'm a martial artist, not a soldier. I mean, I ain't opposed to the ass kickin' you're gonna deal, but I got somebody who lost family in Ginza. I think she's gonna need me around for that."
"Of course." The government man acknowledged graciously. "It sounds like the obligation one must take seriously."
Ranma nodded, thankful that the suit seemed to understand his hesitation. He leaned forward to rest his hand on the driver's shoulder. "Saotome-san's residence, please."
The driver merely nodded and the car began to change lanes in accordance with his direction. The agent took the operational paperwork back from the martial artist before pausing, eyeing the teen critically. "Though there is one other thing…"
Ranma stared. "What's that?"
"It hasn't been released publicly since we're not even sure for ourselves," The middle aged man began as she shuffled through his paperwork, pulling out one specifically to rest on top. He handed it to Ranma, whose eyes immediately fell upon the blurred image of a woman being dragged by one of the anachronist soldiers he had already encountered. "Reports are that they took prisoners both during the invasion and in retreat. I believe the person you're speaking of is Nabiki Tendo?"
Ranma stared at the sheet stunned, then the man himself. "Ah, yeah."
"This is not a card I relish playing, but your presence his highly desired by the government." The agent man frowned, but continued. "While we can by no means guarantee it, there is a possibility she was similarly detained by the enemy. Public Intelligence reports her remains were never recovered, as I recall."
"You're saying she's over there?!" Ranma jabbed an animated thumb towards the window behind him as if Ginza itself was right outside.
"I'm saying she might be." The man clarified with a nod. "It's something the government is not eager to approach until we determine the exact disposition of their fate. I think you understand why it may never become public knowledge."
Ranma nodded slowly. They had taken prisoners and Ranma Saotome was well acquainted with how captives could be treated thanks to his father's predilection towards a less than honest lifestyle. He had seen and been a guest of some. While some could be nice, others were detrimental towards one's health and the medieval ass holes he had met didn't seem to be the charitable types.
'Nabiki…' The pigtailed boy wondered as her name surfaced amongst his thoughts. The government man's mention of her was bait, but was forthcoming about not only its place in their conversation, but the fact that it may be an empty hook when it was all said and done. Still, there was a chance as the most relevant part of their discussion was recalled. '…Her body was never found.'
The slight application of brakes interrupted his thoughts as the sedan pulled out of the traffic, then turned a corner to pull up next to an imminently recognizable house. Ranma glanced back at it, then the driver who exited the vehicle to walk around to the passenger door, opening it for the martial artist. Warm air flowed into the compartment and when he glanced back to his host, found the man already handing him a business card. He took it, noting little more than a number on the back.
"If you should change your mind, simply call this number." The agent advised. With that he gave the boy a nod. "Thank you for your time, Saotome-san."
Ranma returned the nod slowly and stepped out of the vehicle. The driver acknowledged his presence briefly before returning to his own seat. The black sedan rolled away moments later, leaving one dazed martial artist staring at the simple business card and the number on it. He stood there for another moment before turning back to his mother's house, walking toward it in that same daze. His opening of the door immediately incited a greeting from his mother.
"How was school today, son?"
Ranma didn't answer. He was still staring at the card. Nodoka leaned out of the kitchen to sight him with a smile, adjusting her apron, though the smile lasted only as long as it took her to discern her child's distracted state. This time she stepped fully out of the kitchen, watching carefully as the preoccupied martial artist passed the entryway end table, setting another piece of paper and a small red and silver medallion upon it. His mother couldn't help but to frown now. "Son? Is everything okay?"
The question seemed to draw Ranma out of his daze as he slowly looked up at his mother in confusion as she approached. His mouth opened, then closed, as if he were trying to decide on… Something. Nodoka stepped around him, first eyeing the plain business card with little more than a number printed across it before turning to the contents he had left on the table. She fingered the red-ribboned silver medallion for a moment before gasping with recognition. The auburn-haired woman stared at it for a long moment before taking the sheet of paper set beneath it and began to read, her eyes widening with incredulity.
"Ranma! This… this is…!"
"Mom, I… I…" Ranma started, unsure of exactly what he wanted in that moment as a several conflicting thoughts vied not simply for his attention, but to dominate his next course of action. Akane was grieving. She needed him here. In Nerima. But she had a family. Friends. And there was a chance that her sister was still out there… Somewhere. In the hands of those barbarian fucks. How much or little he cared for Nabiki Tendo no longer mattered in that moment and when he looked back up at his mother, the confusion had been replaced by a look of fated resolve. The auburn-haired woman stepped over to him, taking his hand for as much her reassurance as his.
"Son?" She wondered aloud, trying to fit a number of questions into a single word without knowing where to even begin. All she had were puzzle pieces—A letter of commendation signed by the Prime Minister. The Red Ribbon medal of honor, awarded only to those who had risked their own life to save the lives of others. A business card with only a number; no name, no address. And now, the serious look brewing in her son's blue eyes. The answer finally came in the form of an unexpected request.
"Mom… I need to go on a training mission."
Author's Notes – To be honest, GATE annoys me. On one hand, it's one of those ideas where you wonder why nobody thought of it sooner. In fact, somebody probably has, just they didn't get picked up by a major Japanese anime studio. Unfortunately, the person who did get picked up by a major Japanese anime studio is a rabid nationalist who writes at the level of bad fanfiction. Yes, I said it.
This work intends to correct that and a lot of the glaring plot issues while attempting to maintain the spirit of what this genre should have been: SG1 set in an anime fantasy world w/JSDF isekai overpower. Hopefully I don't fail at it just as miserably 😉
Calibers – I mention it in the fic, but why the original plot has the JSDF going in with 7.62 somewhat mystifies me. Almost any rifle caliber produces in the 20th century will penetrate medieval plate, including the lighter 5.56. Obviously 7.62 doesn't kill dragons and almost nobody has magical armor in canon, so…
Magic – Remember to repeat to yourself, 'Magic is only for the protagonist'. Or not. Magic will actually be prominent, for and against our heroes.
Timeline – We're going in before the main operation, but will eventually run concurrent to it. Since I don't write copy/replace fics on average, do not expect to see Ranma to be stepping all over Itami's toes, begging for a slot on his team. We'll eventually get to him, however. But maybe Rory first :D
D&D - GATE makes no apologies for borrowing from D&D to a degree and neither will I. Just MORE of it.
Save Versus Crapspace - This fic was well on its way to Crapspace, saved only by reading Grounders10's Tangled Fate.
Thanks to Fan Fiction Federation for feedback and ideas, as always. Great people there.