Dark Titans – Arc 2 - Big Trouble in Little Tokyo

Chapter Two

Enjoy if you will, Tolerate if you won't.

Ranma sat comfortably on the lawn, tinkering with the motorcycle that Robin had sent him. Not that he really knew enough to actually improve it, or anything like that, but at the very least he figured he couldn't mess it up too bad since he had the manual right beside him. More of an interest thing, he supposed. It was pretty fun to learn about his new machine, even if it wasn't directly related to martial arts.

Of course, his good mood had yet to recover from Akane storming off, just moments earlier. For some reason, the dumb Tomboy had made some inane comment about Ryouga and he'd replied with the first thing that came to mind.

Apparently Akane didn't agree with his belief that Jinx was a much better match for Ryouga than Raven. Not that he really cared who the directionally challenged moron ended up with, he just figured that the pink eyed sorceress had really gone above and beyond for Bacon Breath. If anyone deserved some happiness, it was that girl.

Idly, he wondered whatever happened to that mischievous female, Jinx.

Idly, Happosai wondered whatever happened to that pesky brat, Robin.

Not really paying any attention to where he was going at the moment, the ancient master let his mind wander slightly. It had been a while since Robin had been out to try and spoil his fun; in fact, he didn't think he'd seen the young man since his last battle with the lovely Red X. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her since that night either.

As depressing as it sounded . . . he actually missed their single minded pursuits. While his nightly raids were still rewarding, they just weren't as fulfilling as the nights when they had been hot on his heels. Certainly, Ranma surpassed both of them by leaps and bounds, but his heir apparent was a reluctant trainee at the best of times. The single minded determination of Robin and the irrational dislike that Red X seemed to harbor, they were a refreshing change from his favorite pupil's rather lazy attitude.

A massive leap took him across yet another yawning alleyway, depositing him soundlessly on the roof of a rather lavish hotel building. Yes, this place was bound to have a few wealthy patrons, wealthy patrons that undoubtedly owned rather lavish undergarments of their own . . .

The old man absently wiped a small line of drool from his chin. No need to get too excited before he actually accomplished his mission. With a careful shift of his shoulders, he positioned his beloved sack of trophies to allow him the best angle of entry into the building.

Of course, hotels presented unique challenges of their own, especially since many of them didn't have windows that actually opened. However, for a master of his skills, even that wasn't an impossible obstacle to overcome. He took a few moments to scope out the roof's layout; it was an older building with fancy ledges, gargoyles and the works. All the better. His point of entrance decided upon, he hopped onto the ledg-

Whoa!

Suddenly he was freefalling, the crumbling remains of the rotten piece of stone raining down around him! He swung around quickly to latch onto the wall, when -

The most horrifying sound he had ever been subject to assaulted his sensitive ears . . . the sound of ripping cloth tore into his very soul. For just a moment, all thoughts of saving himself were forgotten, as a gentle rain of silky treasures joined him and the crumbling stone in the thrall of gravity. The image of his precious sack tearing open and liberating his hard gotten gains back into the world . . . it burned into his eyes, branded itself onto his memory.

Then, just as he was about to spring into action and reclaim all of his treasures in a flash of movement . . . a strong wind chose that exact second to ambush him and send his precious undergarments floating off into the night . . .

He absently considered just letting himself fall to the unforgiving ground below . . .

But then his common sense kicked in and he grabbed onto the next ledge and pulled himself up. With a tear in his eye, he saluted the escaping underwear as it returned from whence it came . . . well, more or less.

"Oh, well! There's always tomorrow," he cackled to himself. Really though, that had just been some unbelievably bad luc . . .

"Wait just a second!"

Two rapid jumps took him back to the building's roof, where he landed with an angry thump. He glared angrily across the rooftop, staring down his unexpected companion.

"That was a mean trick to play on an old man, Jinx!"

A precocious giggle floated through the night air, as the slim figure of the girl melted out of the shadows before him. Her dainty, platform boots crunched across the gravel as she moved closer to him. He looked her over once more, matching the lovely, though underdeveloped girl against his memory. Everything seemed to match up, her uniform still consisted of the black dress, ending mid thigh, the oddly stripped socks of alternating black and dark purple and, of course, the dark stone hanging from the choker around her slender neck.

There was one glaring difference though, the girl had yet to return her hair to it's usual upturned style. Rather, Jinx still wore her long pink hair flowing around her shoulders. Happosai admitted it was somewhat flattering, though not nearly as interesting and distinctive as her previous style.

"I'm sorry, Happi, I just wanted to make sure that I had your undivided attention," she replied mischievously.

He quirked an eyebrow in interest at that. Hmm, there was something else new as well, it was subtle enough that he'd nearly missed it. The spunky young villainess had a single piece of yellow and black cloth braided tightly into her hair, very nearly framing the left side of her face. Definitely a noteworthy addition, if it meant what he thought it might.

"Well, my dear, you most assuredly have it now. I suggest you put it to good use, before I remember that you just cost me an entire night's haul," he suggested seriously.

If she was in any way intimidated by his threatening tone, she gave absolutely no sign. He smiled internally, as she offered him her patented Cheshire grin in response. Such a mischievous and fearless girl; he really, really liked her.

"I need your help . . . Master," she stated rather seriously herself. Her smile melted away slightly at her admission, a somewhat nervous look forming on her features now. How odd, that, the girl that just smiled at his anger like the devil may care, was nervous about asking him for help.

"Help with what, Jinx?" he inquired, slightly emphasizing his use of her name. "Looking to get back into the game, or looking for revenge?"

The young sorceress looked to the side, uncertainty hanging over her like a pall. "I – I'm not sure what I want to do with my life, yet. I don't think . . . that I want to go back to being a petty criminal; I don't really want revenge on anyone, either . . ."

He tipped his head to the side, gazing at her questioningly. "Then . . .?"

Again, her pink, slitted eyes met his, determination finally entering into them once more. "I may not know what I want to do yet, but I sure as hell know what I don't want to do. I don't want to be weak anymore. Raven and all the Titans, they all got so much stronger because of Cologne. Even after all the work I did with you, Ryouga and Mousse, that witch still beat me like nothing!" she hissed loudly.

Happosai smiled slyly at that. Not out for revenge, eh? Still, a good rivalry was always a good thing to foster, nothing got you stronger, faster, than really hating someone's guts. And if it gave him the chance to thumb his nose at Cologne . . . He chuckled to himself, it might even give him a chance to set her back on track in her pursuit of a certain fanged boy. He'd hate to think that he'd trained someone that would give up so easily, especially since it was so obvious that her and Ryouga were the better match. Giving the two girls one more thing to fight over, that was just an infinitely entertaining perk. Of course, favoritism aside, he still had to make sure she was worthy of his training.

"Well, if all you're looking for is a strength boost, I have a great recipe for Super-Soba that will take care of that quick. Heh, I'm sure a set of whiskers would actually work on you," he said while vainly holding in his snickering.

This time the fate bending girl actually glared at him. "Quit joking around! That's not what I meant and you know it. I don't just want to be a stronger fighter . . . I want to be a stronger person again, too," she admitted sadly. "I feel like – like I've been doing nothing but doubting and second guessing myself ever since the day that I met Ryouga. I . . . I hate what I've become, so pathetic and emotional."

The sad note left her voice then, as a hard glint filled her feline eyes. "I want to be fearless again! I don't want to care about what anyone thinks. I don't want to feel inferior ever again . . . I want . . . I want to be like you . . ."

The ancient master's eyes nearly popped out of his head at that quiet declaration! She wanted to be like him? Had this young woman completely lost her mind? He didn't even want to be like him most of the time. A thought stopped him short though . . . She likely didn't mean she wanted to be perverted like him. For some reason, she thought that he was fearless, that he was strong . . . she – she actually respected him . . .

Dear God, when was the last time that anyone had actually shown him respect? Not the spineless fear that his boneheaded students demonstrated, or Ranma's shallow platitudes when the boy actually desired something from him. It was obvious that Jinx wasn't afraid of him, not at all, but nor was she being insincere in any way.

It took him a moment to gather himself again. "You . . . you want to be like me, do you?"

A single, hesitant nod.

A small smile began to form on his face. "You want to be utterly and completely unrepentant of who you are? You want to live how you see fit and abide only by your own rules? You want to be absolutely sure of yourself and never regret any decision you make, no matter how insane it might be in hindsight?" With every question, his excitement grew, as did the gleam in Jinx's luminescent eyes.

Her Cheshire grin was back in full force now, her eyes glowing faintly in the night. "I think that's exactly what I want," she replied sharply.

He nodded sagely. "An interesting proposal, certainly. But, my dear, what exactly is in it for me?"

A long, suffering sigh escaped her perfect lips, as a resigned look entered her eyes. With great reluctance, the darkly clad girl reached behind her back and retrieved something. A second later, her hand swung forward and revealed her most valued form of currency.

A delightfully cute pair of dark maroon panties!

He stared in wonder at the deceptively simple pair of underpants. He could feel her unique energy saturating the soft material, even from across the roof. A master could get lost in that wondrous, mystic chi that was so fundamentally Jinx.

Jinx apparently misinterpreted his stare. Her resigned gaze boiled into an irate glare. "Look, this is as good as you're gonna get. I didn't start wearing thongs for him, so there's no way in heck that I'm gonna do it for you!"

For the first time that night, he actually burst into laughter. "No, no, Jinx. That will be more than enough, for the time being," he stated with great amusement. "Very well, if you're that intent on becoming my disciple, then I accept. You have great potential, Jinx, and I believe that under my tutelage, you'll become more than a match for Raven, Ryouga, or even Ranma. Trust me, my dear, with your powers and my training, I believe I can make you . . . invincible," he finished in an unnecessarily sinister tone.

He let out an equally and unnecessarily sinister chuckle. He couldn't wait to see the rematch between his student and Cologne's half demon trainee. He'd been a bit disappointed to hear that Jinx had lost that first battle, though honestly, he hadn't given her nearly as much training as Cologne had Raven. Really, all he'd taught her was the trick to block the demon girl's chi sight. But next time . . . next time would be very different indeed. Jinx's incredibly unique abilities seemed to offer a world of possibilities for him to exploit. The demon girl, it was obvious that she possessed much more raw power, but by it's very nature, Jinx's power was much more unpredictable. Oh yes, he'd show Cologne who the greater teacher was.

"Alright, Jinx, we should stop by Nabiki's base first. I think they might be worried if you just left without telling them," he stated in a sagely voice. That and it was always nice to know where a potential safe house was, where a potential scape goat could be found . . . and Nabiki had just the most wonderful taste in underwear.

Jinx nodded in agreement, thankfully missing the subtext of his request. "Where are we going, anyway, Happi?"

He just smiled happily.

"To achieve the advancement you seek, you are about to embark on a most excellent training adventure."

Ranma shivered uncontrollably, a sense of something fundamentally wrong in the universe settling across his soul . . . A second later, it passed.

Huh, that had been weird. Ah well, where had he been again?

Oh, yeah, Akane . . .

Unfortunately, any concerns he might have had for Jinx were currently being quashed by the concern he was feeling for himself. After all, the only thing worse than Akane in the kitchen, was an angry Akane in the kitchen. Even worse, in the couple of days since his first trip into the city, she'd started cooking human food again, from time to time.

'Human food' being used in the loosest possible manner, of course.

He carefully placed the wrench to his side, the side of him that was the farthest from the porch and, incidentally, the place where his fiancée had been sitting. A lot of his new tools looked like they would really hurt if they came into contact with his skull, so he figured it would probably be a good idea to minimize the chance that Akane might get her hands on any of them, if ever he should accidentally do something to set her off.

Better safe than sorry and all that jazz.

The martial mechanic then wiped his hand across his forehead, dashing some of the sweat that had gathered there. He looked up to the bright, sunshiny day that encompassed him. Really, it was far too nice of a day to spend indoors. With a widening smile, he slid his hand across the crimson shell of his new machine. He had never really gotten the hang of that computer junk, but this . . . this was something that he could really get into.

Oh, sure, he still barely knew how to drive the darn thing, but the mechanical aspect seemed to come to him fairly easy. Maybe it was his innate knowledge of biomechanics creeping over into a similar subject, or maybe he just had a hidden talent for it, who knew? All he knew, was that taking this machine apart and putting it back together gave him a sense of satisfaction that he usually only got from learning a new and powerful technique.

"Ranma! Lunch is ready, it's time to come in!" Akane's dulcet voice rang out the sliding door and through the air.

A rather nasty curse escaped his lips.

Frantically, he looked to the sliding door, then to his machine. He then looked from his bike down to the assorted parts sprawled around him. Damn! Let's see, that part goes there and that one there, but this thing needs to go in first and the-

"Ranma! Quit playing with your bike and get in here!" Akane's head joined her voice as she popped it out the door to glare at him. The look on her face seemed to indicate that she wasn't mad at him . . . yet, but that would change quickly, almost assuredly.

Still, he couldn't exactly get away while she was staring right at him. So, reluctantly, he stopped his rather frantic refurbishing and slowly lowered his tools back to the ground at his side. Then, with the resigned dignity of a man facing a firing squad, he rose up to meet his fate.

Akane stared at him strangely as he trudged across the yard. "Sheesh, Ranma, I know you like tinkering with your bike, but honestly, it'll still be there after you're done eating," she said in a slightly patronizing manner.

"Yeah, but I might not be . . ." he whispered quietly enough to escape her keen ears.

Still in her oddly bubbly mood, Akane veritably glided back across the room and over to the table. With giddy exuberance, the young woman then lifted the lid off the large pot that took up the center of the table. Almost instantly, Ranma, his father and Mr. Tendo (both much closer to the epicenter than him) nearly reeled over from the smell.

If Akane noticed the . . . well, unsavory was about the most polite word he could think of at the moment – the unsavory aroma, she hid it well. So that either meant that the girl had no sense of smell, or was just too proud to admit that she'd screwed up, yet again . . . though the no sense of smell thing might explain a few things.

"I was feeling a little adventurous today, so I made spaghetti and meat balls! I just love Italian food!" she explained proudly.

To his credit, the heir of the Saotome school managed to get close enough to the table to actually take his seat. He noticed both of their fathers wavering, his own father looking ready to bolt. Not that he could blame the guy . . . whatever it was that was in that pot . . . he could almost swear he heard it chanting in tongues.

Eagerly, his . . . loving . . . fiancée scooped out a helping of the eldritch horror and dropped it onto his plate with a rather disturbing squelching noise.

"Ya know . . . I just can't figure it out . . .," he mumbled to himself quietly.

Akane looked at him, a questioning look on her face. "What's that, Ranma?"

He looked at the plate set out before him, what could only be described as a critical expression on his face. Absently, more to himself than to her, he replied without thinking.

"How is it that your alien food tastes almost like human food, but your human food tastes like alien food . . .?"

Deep, deep within Ranma's psyche, Common Sense Ranma screamed in anguish and tore out several more tufts of his already sparse hair. Why did Ranma never listen to him? All he had to do was listen! It wasn't that much to ask for, was it? Just to have the big ox think before he spoke? But nooooooooo. No, that would be too much for the great Saotome Ranma, wouldn't it?

Well, Common Sense Ranma would see who had the last laugh here.

Chuckling, in what could only be described as an unhinged manner, Common Sense Ranma grabbed his host's Autonomic Response to Imminent Danger, and squeezed . . .

Hard.

Oh, crap . . . Ranma knew that sensation! Paralytic hesitation! He had no idea what caused it, but it almost always happened immediately after he said something and it always seemed to herald an imminent and brutal impact.

"Ranma, you jerk!"

With a weak sigh, he merely closed his eyes as the shadow of the table blotted out the sun.

With a calamitous crash, the table crushed him beneath its wooden bulk. Damn Nabiki, why did she have to invest in an Ironwood table?

"Honestly! How can he insult my cooking when he hasn't even tried it?" Akane's question seemed to be a rhetorical one, as she was already leaving the room, even as the edges of his vision start to fade to darkness.

The last thought he had, before the blackness engulfed him, was . . .

Thank goodness that I don't have to ea . . .

Brushogun's smile literally dripped with malice as he gazed upon his latest creation. The crimson shell of his newest minion glimmered dimly in the warehouse's poor lighting. This, this would be his first strike against the pathetic masses of humanity that corrupted this world. First, first he would crush the defenders of this disgusting city, then he would crush its populace beneath his heels.

Then, as his power grew, he would spread his domain, eventually, the world would bow before him. That was how it went, after all . . . wasn't it? Beings of such unlimited power as his own, they always tried to conquer the world, so it was only logical that he should do the same.

The demonic entity flinched and held a clawed hand to his head, fighting off yet another sudden headache. It felt like a voice was shrieking at him from the very edges of his consciousness, tearing angrily at the distant fringes of his being, from just beyond his perception. It didn't speak in words, was too ancient and alien to communicate in anything resembling human speech, but it seemed to be telling him that he was going about this all wrong.

Once again, he forced the . . . voice away, back to the void that now existed where his soul once had. It frightened him how difficult it was getting and he wasn't certain how much longer he would be able to do so. The once-artist shied his mind away from the thoughts of what he might do when the day came that he could no longer resist that inhuman voice . . .

Bah! What did it know anyway? He knew how villains were supposed to act, he'd been reading comic books since he was a child. There were certain rules that needed to be followed, certain protocols of villainy that needed to be observed.

He looked back to his minion once more, the crimson demon gazing back at him impassively. The Ink Demon smiled at the character's design, Brushogun liked to consider him as an . . . homage to the rather classic Ultraman. Sleek red armor covered the perfect physique of the false-man, a powerful jet pack adorned his back and large red gems adorned both his chest and forehead.

Overall, he'd say that he'd done a rather good job on this one . . .

"Now, Saico-Tek, go out . . . and destroy the defenders of this city."

Ranma groaned weakly as his impromptu nap finally came to it's rather painful conclusion. The first thing that he noted, was the absence of any unholy odor. At least it seemed that Akane had either cleaned up or tossed out the remains of her lunch (Oh, how he prayed for the latter!) The next thing, was the rather heavy weight of the table still crushing down on him.

He struggled weakly for a moment . . .

Hmm, on second thought, the table would keep, at least until his skeleton stopped hurting again. On the bright side, she'd only crushed his body this time, his head was still blissfully free from the table. Hey! He could see the TV too, nice! That meant he could watch something while he waited for his body to stop being broken.

He wiggled his hands back and forth a bit, they were both free as well, though his arms were still pinned. After a moment, he gave up and scratched his nose. Hmm, a dilemma then . . . How does one turn on a television when you can't move?

. . . if he had a yen coin or something equally tiny, he could flick it at the on button!

The pigtailed boy scanned his surroundings quickly. Hmm, the only projectile within his vicinity appeared to be a tiny fragment of Akane's aborted meal . . . no, that wouldn't do, he wanted to turn the TV on, not destroy the thing.

Wait a second . . . He chuckled evilly to himself. Saotome Ranma was a genius! All this problem required was a little thinking outside the box.

With excruciating care and concentration, he lined his thumb and forefinger up with the TV's on switch . . .

His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he marshaled every ounce of his martial skill into the next moment . . . Now!

"Mouko Takabisha Revised: Pride of the Cheerful Cricket!"

Using his battle cry to focus his attack, he flicked his finger mightily, lobbing the tiny nimbus of golden light at the television. The pea sized chi blast flew with unerring grace and hit his target, bursting with just enough force to actually depress the button. The only evidence that his attack had existed was the flash of light and sound as the television flared to life . . . and the tiny scorch mark on the button.

"Ha! Man, I knew I was great, but this is just a whole new level of great," he stroked his own ego happily. Ha! If the Shi Shi Houkodan could have non-combat applications, than so could the Mouko Takabisha!

Hey, an episode of Dragon Ball Z was on, even better!

It looked like everything was coming up Ranma today! He settled in to spend the next half hour or so watching his favorite martial artist alien power up (He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why Ryouga liked Vegeta better than Goku.) when -

"We interrupt this program to bring you this important news bulletin!"

"Ah, crap," he moaned to himself. Always when it was something that he wanted to watch!

Suddenly the scene on the television switched from an eternally yelling Saiyan to a live shot of down town Tokyo. An attractive woman holding a microphone stood in the foreground, but behind her was a scene of complete chaos! Dozens of police cars filled the street some hundred or so yards behind the woman and the street was swarming with at least twice that number of officers. Several of the cars were burning merrily as well, shouts of panic filling the air.

The woman suddenly began to speak, a somewhat panicked tone in her voice as well. "I am reporting, live, from just outside the Metropolitan Government Building in the Shinjuku ward, where a costumed villain has started a one man war against the Tokyo Police Force."

A sudden explosion of red in the background sent the woman stumbling forward slightly, her panicked look only increasing. A smoking hubcap clattering to the ground roughly a foot to her left . . . pretty much finished her off. With a shriek of complete terror, the attractive reporter dropped her microphone and ran completely off screen.

The picture of the raging battle held for another minute, before the cameraman suddenly ran for cover as well. Everything after that was a rather poor shot taken around the bumper of a nearby car.

Ranma continued to stare, transfixed, at the image for another moment, before his brain suddenly kicked into gear.

"Holy crap!"

The table went flying to crash against the wall as he leapt up to his feet. Why hadn't he heard about it on his police scanner while he was outside?

He slapped a hand against his forehead . . . Because it was up in his room, so he could listen to it at night!

"Damn!"

He didn't even bother to tell Akane what he was doing. Free of his dining confines, he burst out the back door and veritably flew to his bike. Without the panic and fear that Akane's cooking caused, he looked to the pile of parts around his motorcycle and analyzed the most efficient way to reassemble them in a fraction of a second. Then, using the speed honed from his Katchu Tenshin Amagurinken, he replaced every part, every nut and every bolt faster than the eye could follow.

A second later, the roar of the engine filled the back yard. Luckily, Shinjuku was right next door to Nerima, so he at least had a chance of getting there in time. Without wasting the time to form another coherent thought, the master martial artist hopped on his bike and kicked it into gear.

If Akane hadn't heard anything up to that point, he was pretty sure that the squeal of burning rubber when he hit the pavement would definitely get the girl's attention. A tiny smile began to worm its way onto his face, as he blasted down the road.

Finally!

Lieutenant Uehara Daizo flung himself behind the open door of his patrol car, just in time to avoid the flaming shrapnel that was once Suzahara's matching vehicle. The blast wave of force and heat nearly slammed his door closed, crushing him painfully against the seat, but didn't sear the flesh off his bones like he was half expecting. A second later, he jumped up and spun to face the red clad psychopath, now hovering above the mass of flaming cars that populated the city street.

Taking quick aim, the veteran officer squeezed his trigger as fast as he could, unloading another six rounds of molten lead at the cocky bastard. He smirked briefly, as each and every bullet slammed home, only to scowl angrily as, just as every bullet before, they twanged off harmlessly. He let out another small curse, apparently his marksmanship had gotten the bastard's attention.

The flying villain turned his way, producing another of those damned explosive throwing weapons out of seemingly nowhere.

Daizo was already running, even before the crimson monster pulled back his arm to throw the weapon. Even as he leapt on the trunk of another car and flung himself through the air, he somehow heard the whizzing sound of the bladed device cutting it's way towards his back. It struck him as slightly odd, considering the deafening cacophony of jet exhaust, roaring flames and screaming officers that surrounded him.

The dull thunk of the bomb slamming into the trunk only a scant few feet behind him caused a rather sour thought to travel through his mind, just before the thing exploded, flinging his already flying body an extra twenty feet or so into the air.

I'm not even supposed to be here today!

He enjoyed a brief moment, as the pain he was in flickered momentarily into the mind numbing variety. It gave him a short instant to think about his life and how it had been going up to that point. Hmm, you know, now that he thought about it, he really needed t-

A rather nasty crunching sound interrupted his train of thought, as he crashed painfully to the ground and bounced a few times before sliding to a halt. For a few seconds, he just lay there, forcing his lungs to collect the oxygen he required to live. It was an arduous process, but he figured it would be worth the effort in the long run . . .

The sound of something landing gently on the ground not too far away from him reminded him just what his situation was. With great difficulty, he rolled himself onto his back, then painfully lifted the gun that he had miraculously held on to this whole time. A flick of his finger opened the cylinder and let the six spent shells fall to the ground with a clatter.

How had it even come to this? It didn't make sense! One man could not just wipe out an entire platoon of police officers! This kind of thing just did not happen in Tokyo, and certainly not on his watch. Whoever this . . . this super villain was, he seemed to be invincible, immortal . . .

Damnit! This was not how fighting crime was supposed to work.

He was not at all surprised by the harsh sensation of a boot slamming down on his forearm, slamming his hand to the ground and causing his gun to slide out of reach. Nor was he surprised by the unnaturally strong hand twisting painfully into his lapels and lifting him till his feet were dangling a foot from the ground.

He glared into the emotionless crimson eyes of his captor, cold and merciless orbs more befitting a man eating shark than a human being. The . . . man stared at him impassively, not even so much as a smirk of accomplishment or superiority marring his crimson stained lips.

Expelling some of the precious air that he had just worked so hard to collect, he spat out at the armored monster. "W-what the hell do you want?"

He then lashed out with a weak kick, slamming the tip of his shoe into the villain's calf. As he suspected, it had no effect at all and all it got him was a rough shake. The red colored man studied him for another moment, apparently determining if he was finally done trying to fight. His head then cocked to the side and he replied in a very casual tone of voice.

"It is my duty to destroy the defenders of this city . . . and so I shall." The dangerous criminal then lifted his free hand and . . . it seemed to – to flow together for a moment . . . The crimson blob then reshaped itself and solidified back into a normal hand . . . holding a cruel looking crimson dagger.

He would have liked to say more, to do more . . . but his body was failing him after his near incineration and short attempt at flight. So, with bitter pride, he hissed with his last breath. "Go. To. Hell!"

Finally, his murderer smiled, a wicked and cruel smile that belonged on no sane man's face.

"I insist . . .after you."

He watched as the gleaming blade rose higher into the air, the sunlight flashing red against it's polished surface. All around him, his fellow officers lay, wounded or unconscious . . . he certainly hoped that he would be the only casualty this day, if only for his friends' sakes. Damnit! How the hell were they supposed to deal with something like this?

And then the knife was descending, destined for his carotid artery. Daizo grimaced and looked awa-

"WAAAAAAAHHHHAAAAAAAA!"

The cry sundered the air, drowning out the fires, explosions and anguished yells that dominated the scene. It was quickly followed by the sound of something hitting metal at high speed. The Lieutenant was so shocked, that he immediately swung his head in the direction of the massive racket. It was so unexpected, that even his captor turned to gawk, murder forgotten for the moment.

With eerie synchronization, they both gazed at the source of the sound, apparently one of the cars that was currently masquerading as a bonfire. He wondered what was happening for a fraction of a second, when -

A motorcycle exploded through the flames, flying through the air after ramping the wheeled inferno!

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The bike's rider continued to scream, half in terror, half in panic, as the machine soared through the air, trailing smoke and fire like a burning comet.

Daizo and his captor both stared with mute awe as the reckless daredevil clung to his ride . . . almost floating through the air in slow motion . . . right in their direction!

Then the machine finally slammed into the ground, a loud squeal of burning rubber. Damn! But that kid could dri-

Almost instantly after landing, the bike skidded wildly out of control! The front wheel swooped back and forth as the rider desperately tried to regain control . . . for about a second. Suddenly the machine skidded sideways, before slamming hard to the ground, slamming it's rider just as hard into the pavement. The machine actually hit hard enough to bounce over the painfully sliding form of the crazed youth, before it continued it's own ear wracking slide, trailing a shower of sparks fit to set another three blazes.

Both him and the crimson man that held him, had about three halves of a second to consider this, before the machine suddenly slammed into the back of the red clad villain's legs, sending both of them flying into the air! The last thing he perceived was the red man swinging him up and throwing him towards the remains of the bike's rider, even as the villain got caught by the machine and dragged, the gods only knew how far, in the other direction.

A second later, he was reintroduced to the (far too familiar by that point) concept of pain, as he crashed to the unforgiving pavement, yet again. He bounced and rolled for a good five feet, before finally sliding to a stop not too far from the red shirted boy that had just crashed and burned so spectacularly.

Well, he supposed, that was one way of dealing with the villain . . .

"Oh, gods, I wasn't even supposed to be on duty today . . .," he moaned pitifully. Slowly, and with great reluctance, he started to drag himself up into a sitting position. A good forty feet away, he noticed his crimson nemesis begin to do the same thing.

"What does it take to keep him down?" Not expecting an answer, he started to look around him for a fallen firearm, preferably one with a grenade launcher attached. In his short search, his eyes fell across the body of the boy that had just, inadvertently, saved his life.

Hmm, not responsive, likely didn't survive the crash. He had to have been going at least a hundred klicks when he spilled all over the place. Still, he had to make sure . . .

"Hey (Cough) Hey, k-kid . . . you still alive?"

Amazingly . . . the kid actually responded! With a weak groan, the black haired kid (What was with the pigtail?) rose up to his hands and knees, gingerly rubbing the back of his head, apparently in mild discomfort. The teen then looked up and met his gaze, a confident smile on his face.

"Heh, don't worry 'bout me, I'm alright. Still a little woozy from the table, nothin I can't handle," assured the blue eyed youth. The young man then looked into the distance where his bike had finally stopped, a trail of scratched concrete leading the entire way. He then looked back at Daizo, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. "Umm . . . I meant to do that . . ."

The Lieutenant growled slightly. "Meant to do that? You nearly killed me, ya crazy brat!"

The pigtailed boy seemed to consider that for a moment . . . "Okay then, I didn't mean to do that. Now, what the heck is goin on here, Grandpa? I'm here to help," he declared rather proudly.

Daizo grumbled a bit at the Grandpa comment. He quickly looked back to the villain, the guy was still pretty wobbly, he'd keep for a second. "Help? What the heck are you gonna do, kid? This isn't a game, that man down there is a dangerous criminal! Get out of here before you get hurt . . . more hurt."

If anything, the crazy kid's smile only widened, growing into a full blown cocky grin. Without any effort at all, the teen then rose up to his feet . . . Hey! The kid hardly even looked hurt at all! Just a few scrapes here and there . . . but how the heck was that possible?

"The name's Saotome Ranma, Grandpa, and I ain't scared of no spandex wearin Power Ranger wannabe. You just hang back here and take it easy, I'll take this guy down for ya, no sweat," promised the self proclaimed Saotome confidently.

Wait just a second! Saotome . . . Ranma . . .? He knew that name . . . from . . . somewhere. He was certain . . . but where? He was a Shinjuku cop, so that was pretty much all that he studied up on . . . but that name rang a bell, hadn't there been a rumor floating across from the Nerima ward involving that . . .?

Any further contemplations were cut off, as the pigtailed boy marched off to face the villain.

Ranma grimaced slightly as he walked past the downed officer and started towards the armor wearing bad guy. He wasn't . . . quite as not hurt as he informed the old man, that had been a hell of a crash, after all. However, he wasn't too hurt, no worse than taking one or two hits from Ryouga anyway. Still, sore or not, he was pretty damn sure that he could handle the masked villain before him.

He watched as the bad guy finally regained his feet, studied his opponent's movements and started to analyze them without even needing to think about it. The guy moved like a fighter, that much was apparent . . . but the style the guy used seemed to elude him for the moment. The way he carried himself, it seemed familiar . . . Ah, well, he'd figure it out as soon as he saw the guy actually fight.

A quiet chuckle escaped his lips. So, here he was, finally with a super villain of his own and a decent one at that. This one guy had managed to lay up dozens of armed officers without even trying. That meant that armor was functional . . . which was good, 'cause it sure as hell wasn't fashionable. The guy was standing after getting smashed by a runaway motorcycle too, so he was pretty tough to boot. So, how did he go about this again?

In the name of the moon, I'll punish you?

Nah, not bloody likely!

Instead, he came to a stop a dozen feet away from his opponent. He then took a moment to take in all the destruction that the red clad figure had caused, all the people that he had injured. The Heir of the Saotome school then turned back to the villain, the glare he transfixed his enemy with was positively arctic.

"I don't know who the hell you are . . . and right now, I don't care. You've hurt a lot of good men, terrorized a lot of innocent people. Now, normally this is where I would make some cocky comment or fling some silly insult, but ya know what? After seeing all these people that you hurt, for no reason, I'm gonna skip the nice guy routine."

He lifted his hands and cracked his knuckles ominously, before dropping into a loose fighting stance.

"So, here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna kick your ass from one end of this street clear to the other . . . and there's exactly two things you're gonna do about it: Nothing and Like it."

Rather than appear at all intimidated, as Ranma figured the guy would, if he had any common sense at all, the red clad villain simply cocked it's head to the side in curiosity.

"Then, you are also a defender of this city?" he asked rather politely.

Hmm, not exactly what he was expecting . . . "Yer damn straight I am! I'm Saotome Ranma, Heir to the Saotome School of Indiscriminate Grappling, and I ain't lettin you get away with . . . um . . . with whatever it is that you're doin here!" Hmm, not exactly his best work, but at least he got the point across.

His foe seemed to consider this for a moment, then bowed politely before him. "Greetings, defender of Tokyo. My name is Saico-Tek, and my master has commanded the destruction of all of this city's defenders." Saico-Tek then straightened up, only to drop down into a rather exaggerated martial arts stance. "May the gods have mercy upon you, for surely I have none."

Damnit! Ranma was about to curse about being out-bantered, when his opponent suddenly flew forward on the attack.

Literally flew, as the jetpack on his back burst to life! Red jets of flame shot from Saico-Tek's back as he skimmed above the ground on a crash course for the pigtailed martial artist. Even as he covered the distance, the armored villain pulled a pair of bladed throwing weapons from behind his back and threw them in Ranma's direction.

They spun blindingly through the air, madly whining saw blades intent on his disembowelment. Ranma nearly chuckled, having a flashback to his first real fight with Ryouga . . . except the Lost Boy had used nearly a dozen bandannas as a distraction and fired his umbrella through the mass. In comparison, two projectiles and a flying tackle were child's play . . .

Aw, hell! Except, if he just dodged, there were a ton of injured police standing right behind him!

Having wasted the fractions of a second that he'd had, a sudden panic filled him as his initial instinct rang instantly false. The two bladed weapons whirred unerringly at his face, their owner only a second behind at the most.

Once again, instinct proved more reliable than rational thought.

He lashed out with speed honed from his Amagurinken training, plucking both oversized throwing stars out of the air. Even as he did that, his body was already responding to the real threat, flipping him into a backwards somersault kick which connected with a bone jarring crunch to Saico-Tek's chin, sending the villain flying up into the air.

Ranma landed on his feet about six feet behind where he had been standing, a pair of the fat centered bladed weapons in his hands. He smiled widely as he watched the jet powered criminal crash to a roof top a half a block away. Apparently having a jetpack strapped to your back just made for more spectacular crashes.

Beep.

Huh? Beep? What was that beeping sound?

Beep.

There it was again! Idly, he looked down to his right hand.

Beep.

Ah ha! It was the throwing weapon, the large red disc between the two shining blades flashed red with each beep as well. Funny though, the time between beeps was getting shorter . . .

Beep.

"You idiot! That's a bomb, get rid of it!" The voice of the officer that he had saved rang from over his shoulder.

Beep.

Oh, that would explain it-

Ah Crap!

Without another thought, he flung both of the explosive devices forward and turned to ru-

A massive double explosion of crimson fire blossomed just behind him, launching him through the air. He soared for thirty feet or so, before crashing to the ground; another ten feet of bouncing and skidding painfully on the pavement finally brought him to a complete stop. A little irately, he looked up to glare at the police officer that he was once again crumpled on the ground beside.

". . . you couldn't have mentioned that, like, a second earlier, Grandpa?" he grumbled rather sourly.

"That's Lieutenant Uehara to you, Saotome. And I thought the beeping and flashing lights were rather obvious. Now, I don't know how you did . . . whatever it was you just did there, but it looks like you might actually be able to help me out here, so get up," ordered the gruff Lieutenant.

Ranma mumbled quietly to himself as he dragged himself to his feet. Might be able to help him? Sheesh, as if this cop guy was actually gonna do anything. His gun obviously didn't work on the guy and it was painfully obvious that the officer wasn't a fighter of any significance. Still, no need to antagonize the old guy, didn't wanna give him a heart attack or something like that.

"Just make sure ya stay outta my way, Lieutenant. I'm used to dealin with wackos like this guy," Ranma explained, pretty politely too, by his standards.

Lieutenant Uehara stared at him oddly for a moment, a slight look of recognition flashing across his face, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. Rather than respond, the older man just grunted and gestured behind Ranma with his chin, even as he began to reload a pistol that he had picked up somewhere.

Ranma followed the gesture to the rooftop that he had sent Saico-Tek flying to. The villain was now standing on the building ledge, a pair of the explosive shuriken in each hand. The pigtailed martial artist groaned in annoyance. This guy was turning into a one trick pony.

Rather than wait for the frantic hassle of dodging and catching flying bombs, Ranma quickly ducked and scooped up a handful of marble sized pieces of rubble. A second later, he was running forward, faster than the proverbial bat out of hell.

Six cracks of thunder sounded behind him, each one resulting in a spark and slight shrug from the armored villain. Hmm, the old man was actually a pretty good shot, six for six from over half a block away, and with a handgun no less. Of course, the bullets didn't have any effect, but they distracted the crimson criminal, letting Ranma close the distance more easily. He chuckled easily to himself, maybe the Lieutenant wasn't so useless after all.

Still, it was inevitable that Saico-Tek would use his toys, and just as Ranma had expected, a barrage of discs started flying his way. Two – four – eight . . . Saico-Tek just kept grabbing the discs, almost out of thin air and hurling them as fast as he could. Hmm, Ranma wondered if this guy knew Mousse at all?

He was ready this time, he lifted his hand and fitted a stone between his thumb and forefinger. With a flick of his finger, the stone zinged through the air at twice the speed of sound. The pebble lanced straight through the first explosive disc, causing a small explosion in midair.

The blue eyed boy smiled wider. A second later, he was launching stones at a rate that would make most automatic weapons green with envy. Every tiny crack of thunder heralded the passage of a pebble, and every pebble met it's mark. Soon the air between the two warriors was an apocalyptic war zone of crimson explosions.

Only to stop abruptly, when Saico-Tek's head snapped back violently, a hyper accelerated stone bouncing off the gemstone embedded in his forehead.

Both Ranma and the Lieutenant took advantage of the momentary distraction. Uehara unloaded his weapon again, this time aiming high. Again, six bullets slammed into Saico-Tek's chest and face; already off balance, the villain actually toppled and fell back to the roof.

Ranma ran forward and leapt for all he was worth, landing on the roof that his opponent was on. He whirled around instantly, catching Saico-Tek before the villain even had a chance to properly regain his feet.

Vividly remembering just what a vicious bastard that the Headmaster had been, despite being only a decently skilled fighter, he didn't dare let his opponent finish recovering. He closed in with a devastating axe kick to the base of his Saico-Tek's neck, smashing the man back down into the roof and half embedding him into concrete. The red clad villain's face made an especially satisfying crunch as it buried itself into the unforgiving masonry.

Ranma smiled confidently. Okay, so maybe that had been a little vicious as well, but that took care of this guy. He stared down at the fallen warrior, his foot still resting on the back of the criminal's neck. The guy was completely out of it, face down in the rubble and laid out flat, the guy wasn't even moving a muscle . . .

His danger sense suddenly flared to life!

It probably saved his life as well, since he was already moving when the crimson swords swung up at him, literally appearing from nowhere. He leapt straight up, staring down in shock as both of Saico-Tek's arms swung backwards at impossible angles, trying to skewer him with a pair of four foot . . . they weren't really swords . . . more like bare blades that the criminal was somehow holding with his gloved hands.

And then Saico-Tek flipped over . . . except he didn't actually move to do it! Ranma's jaw dropped in astonishment, and he completely forgot where he was jumping to, as he watched the stomach twisting sight of Saico-Tek's face just . . . flowing around the side of his head and settle on the back of his skull. Suddenly, suddenly the villain's back was his front and he sat up without any of the difficulties that Ranma would have imagined of trying to basically bend one's spine backwards.

It was about then, that Ranma finally realized that, in his haste, his leap had completely overshot the edge of the roof. He panicked slightly, as he suddenly found himself hanging in the air over a seventy foot free fall, his own powerful leap taking him another two stories above the building he had just been on. He twisted in the air to watch Saico-Tek regain his feet. The villain than saluted him, smiling wickedly as he watched Ranma begin to fall.

Ranma smiled and waved back. He chuckled to himself, seventy feet wasn't too bad, sure it'd hurt his ankles like heck, but he'd be back on that roof in a secon-

His smile died rather gruesomely, as Saico-Tek pulled out a double fan of explosive discs, four on each hand. The villain smiled wider as he looked down to the ground below. Ranma felt a sinking feeling in his gut as he glanced down to where his opponent was staring.

Then, Saico-Tek reared back and threw all of the weapons at once . . . straight down at the ground below . . .

Right where he was going to land!

Just as Ranma reached roof height once more in his decent, Saico-Tek waved coldly again, then flew off in the other direction, an explosion of red jet exhaust trailing the villain's departure.

Not that Ranma had time to worry about that!

The sound of metal digging into stone sounded eight times, as the eight bombs landed in a perfect circle, surrounding the exact location in the street that Ranma was going to land in maybe a second or two himself. Then, as one, the eight explosives began to flare and beep merrily, almost seeming eager for his arrival.

Well . . . that certainly sucked. He knew everything that there was about mid air combat, every trick and technique that one could use to steal that extra second of hang time when battling in the air. Unfortunately most of those techniques required an opponent to work off of. And, really, as much as he loved to cheat gravity, she was a harsh mistress and always reclaimed what was hers in the end. Once you were falling there really wasn't anything else you could do-

Only four stories remained now, his perception of time stretching towards infinity as he struggled desperately to figure out something, anything that he could do to alter his trajectory . . . The Mouko Takabisha – No, too much set up! A life time of training had allowed him to raise his focus to a thing almost beyond human comprehension, granting him reflexes that were near precognition to normal people, but no matter how he battered the flow of time, slowed it to the crawl of molasses, the one undeniable fact was, that time always traveled forward, inexorably and inevitably.

Three stories. He very nearly willed time to stop completely in his mind, tried to bend the very laws of time and space to his will as he channeled completely on the single act of finding a solution to his rather dire situation. He drifted down another foot, a veritable feather on the wind . . . but as slow as his fall now was, it was still progress.

The bombs blinked again, what was just a flash of light before seemed to linger for minutes to his accelerated perceptions. Well, on the bright side, he was pretty sure that he could survive the blast, even eight of them, as long as he positioned himself perfectly and channeled every last ounce of his chi into preserving his life . . .

On the not so bright side, the next second and a half of his life were probably going to be some of the most painful of said life. Hell, he'd be lucky if he got out of the hospital in a mon-

A crack of thunder split the air!

The distraction was enough to knock him completely out of his heightened state of awareness. Suddenly time tore forward hungrily, as if making up for lost time. He fell another ten feet in the next fraction of a seco-

Pain!

Suddenly he was spinning, as something tiny, boiling hot and blindingly fast just grazed his right shoulder, tearing a small trench through his flesh. The pain almost distracted him, but -

That was it! He swung his arms with all his might, adding every iota of inertia and momentum to the tiny push that the bullet had given him. Suddenly he was angling towards the building, not much, but enough so that he would land outside the circle of explosives. The added energy also gave him a tiny bit of extra speed.

He landed a fraction of a second later, three feet away from the closest bomb. It beeped once, then he could almost hear the electric whine of the bomb priming itself to explode. He leapt then, as soon as his toes touched the pavement. Launched himself towards the building. He flew straight and true, angled himself into a human arrow, aiming directly at a window on the first story.

A fraction of a second after that the bombs exploded!

He rode the wave of the explosion, smashed through the window just as the blast collided with the wall with enough force to dislodge half of the brick work. A flash of flame and heat followed him through the aperture, but he rolled under it and slide under a table near the center of the room. The angry tongue of flame flew over his head, eagerly consuming whatever the heck had been on the table a second earlier . . .

And then it was done.

Daizo carefully lowered his (well, it wasn't actually his, but he didn't feel like finding his in all of that mess) revolver to side. The flames from the explosion were finally dying away, revealing a tiny patch of hell on earth, right at ground zero of the explosion. He had no idea if the kid had survived or not. The last thing he had seen, was Saotome land, just on the far side of the bombs. Everything after that had been a hell storm of sound and fury, likely signifying nothing left to ID the corpse.

Come to think of it . . . he had absolutely no idea what he hell he had been thinking there . . . Shooting the kid in the arm? That had to be the craziest thing that he'd ever thought of . . . but it just seemed like the right thing to do.

A flash of movement caught his attention, someone climbing out of a window of the building beyond the explosion.

"Heh, so he actually survived. That kid's made of sterner stuff than I thought," he said to himself, not really taking the time to notice the rather worrying fact that he was talking to himself.

Not really feeling up to actually moving any more than necessary, Daizo started to reload his revolver once more, before holstering it. It was a slow process, now that the adrenaline was starting to leave his system . . . leaving his system in a great amount of pain. A few moments later, the red shirted boy stumbled across the ruined street, coming to a stop about five feet away from him.

Saotome glared at him heatedly, tightly clutching his bleeding shoulder with his hand. "You – You shot me!" the incredulous boy barked.

Well, he supposed that he could tell the kid what had actually been running through his mind at the actual second that he had come to that particular decision . . . but, then he did have a bit of a gruff reputation to protect. So instead, he simply shrugged.

"Worked, didn't it?"

Saotome stared at him for a moment, his jaw slowly working up and down as he tried to process that statement. A moment later, a weak smile formed on the boy's face and he actually began to laugh.

"Heh, heh . . . Yeah, I guess it did at that. Man! I gotta say, Lieutenant, you are a damn good shot with that thing." The young man gestured to his revolver, a look of weary respect actually forming on his features. "I mean, that must have been a one in a million shot, trying to tag my arm like that."

He simply nodded, smiling with great humility. Sure, why not . . . no need to tell the kid that he had actually been aiming for center mass and just prayed that he didn't hit anything vital. No need for the kid to know just how close he had come to missing either.

"You did good there, Saotome. A little wild, a little rough around the edges, but you did what an entire squad of police officers couldn't," he offered respectfully. The young man preened slightly at his praise. The pig tailed boy then made his way over to his fallen bike and lifted it up to its wheels once more.

"Heh, well, I got a little bit of experience at this super villain thing. This is my first real solo attempt though. I know I'll do better next time though, Saotome Ranma don't lose, that's just the way it is," boasted the young man proudly.

Daizo shook his head. Running faster than the eye could see, leaping small buildings in a single bound, firing stones like bullets . . . where normally he would be highly skeptical of anyone making such a boast . . . in this case, he actually found himself believing it. Still . . .

"I don't suppose you have a license for that Motorcycle, do you, Saotome?" He gestured towards the bike with a nod of his head.

Saotome looked back at him, a sudden look of panic on his face. "Um . . . license?" he asked, rather uncertainly.

Daizo nearly smiled at that. Sometimes it was just too easy. He took a few steps forward to stand right before the young man.

"I thought as much, considering that wipe out, and the way you were screaming like a girl while you were driving," he chuckled lightly at his statement.

The blue eyed martial artist sputtered angrily. "Hey! I wasn't screamin like no girl! I'm a guy, damnit!"

He looked at the kid strangely for a moment. ". . . I never said you weren't, Saotome." At that, he pulled a card from one of his pockets and handed it to the young man. It was a little folded and singed, but still good.

"Look, you can't ride a vehicle like this without a license. So I want you to give me a call tomorrow and come by the police station. I'll enroll you in our defensive driving course, and we can see about figuring out how to best utilize your abilities to help us capture this new criminal . . . This, Saico-Tek."

Saotome looked at him a bit oddly for a moment. "You mean . . . you actually want me to work with you? But I thought I was s'posed to do this crime fighting thing on my own. You know, all vigilante style?" he asked, slightly confused.

Daizo rolled his eyes and poked the kid between the eyes. "Vigilantism is illegal in Japan, Saotome. So, either you help us out, or you go to jail. Besides, why on earth would you want to do something like this on your own, it just makes sense for us to work together. You get access to our resources and we get access to someone that actually has the skills to fight someone like that on even footing. What do you say, Saotome?"

The young man mulled it over for a minute, before suddenly smiling widely. The martial artist then stuck out his hand. Daizo quickly reached out and clasped his wrist, just as Saotome grasped his. "You got a deal, Lieutenant. With your guys tracking these bad guys down, and my amazing martial arts skills, we'll have this town cleaned up in no time."

The Lieutenant nodded, shaking hands with his new partner firmly. "Good to have you aboard, Saotome. Now, you better head home and get your injuries looked after. I expect to see you as soon as school lets out tomorrow, young man."

Saotome smiled widely at that, then nodded in agreement. "Sounds good, Lieutenant. Before I go though . . ."

"Tell me more about this defensive driving course."

Brushogun stared down at his minion, genuinely torn on how to deal with the news he had just received. Saico-Tek, whom he had sent out to begin systematically destroying the police force which protected Tokyo, had just returned . . . apparently in defeat!

One part of him, that inhuman voice that prowled the edges of his mind, very much like a tiger that has tasted human blood, howled for his minion's destruction. The idea of allowing a failure to continue its existence seemed offensive to this dark, cruel part of him. It would be easy too, terribly easy, just a single thought and Saico-Tek would melt back into a puddle of colored ink.

But . . . but another part of him, the part that read comic books, the part of him that loved to draw heroes and villains and their adventures . . . That part of him was intrigued. Saico-Tek hadn't really failed in his mission . . . had he? The ink-demon minion had drawn out an entire Police Station, as well as all the surrounding Police Boxes for several blocks, had driven them all to the brink of utter annihilation.

Until he had arrived! Saotome . . . Ranma . . . The name sent a tingle down the liquid and paper mockery that was once his spine. Not just a defender of Tokyo, but an actual hero! Someone that had the strength and skill to battle his minion where dozens of others couldn't even defend themselves. It was . . . it was perfect!

He was a powerful villain, a demon of pure creation and hatred. Wiping out humanity was no great challenge for someone of his unlimited power. But this Saotome . . . he was different, he was powerful as well.

Didn't every great villain require a great hero to battle? Wouldn't his victory be just that much more meaningful when he finally crushed his new nemesis in a final battle, at a time and a place of his own choosing?

An insane giggle escaped his lips. If he hadn't paper for skin, he would swear he'd be getting goose bumps. He turned back to face his loyal minion. "Saico-Tek . . . tell me everything that you have learned . . . "

"About Saotome Ranma . . ."