Dark Titans Big Trouble in Little Tokyo Chapter 9, a Ranma + Teen Titans Crossover fanfic

Dark Titans – Arc 2 - Big Trouble in Little Tokyo

Chapter Nine

Enjoy if you Will, Tolerate if you Won't.

It was the H.I.V.E. Academy all over again!

The raging dragon of the Hiryua Shoten Ha soared triumphantly into the night's sky, restrained by no such feeble human concepts as physics, gravity, or reason. It was a vivid flashback to that fateful night, no, almost a nightmare of a past life. His ultimate attack once again blossoming beyond any possibility of control, there were only two differences this time: this tornado was glowing a pale blue . . . and this tornado was forming right in the heart of downtown Tokyo!

The howling winds at the base of the cyclone tore into buildings on both sides of the streets, first one business complex, then three, and then five . . . all doubled! It was already wider than the Jump City cyclone, and that one was being fed by the power of three exceptionally powerful chi adepts (or whatever Starfire counted as). This one was only being fed by his opponent's power! Hell, he'd leapt back out of the killing zone as soon as he'd landed the finishing move.

Strangely, as he desperately clung to a groaning lamp post over two blocks away, he'd been expecting a little more.

In the sky above him, the four news helicopters that had decided to follow his little battle were desperately trying to avoid the twisting, undulating column of eerily glowing wind. Two of the machines nearly collided head on, as the wildly powerful winds created by the Hiryu Shoten Ha made flying in any kind of controlled manner nearly impossible. One of the smarter pilots, in a white chopper, looked like he was trying to land on a rooftop further out.

Then, without warning, the base of the massive wind funnel suddenly doubled in size, bulging out obscenely. Blinding rays of blue tinted light cut through the walls of the tornado, suddenly, hinting at the maelstrom that his self-made maelstrom was now struggling to contain. The pigtailed fighter could only watch in awe as the twisting winds of the Hiryu Shoten Ha desperately battled to hold in the power of the Saiyan. He'd never seen anything like it in his life!

And then the Hiryu Shoten Ha exploded! It started at the base, the foundation of the towering tornado burst open in an orgy of destruction and property damage. Like any structure, the loss of its base caused a chain reaction, traveling up the entire length of the cyclone; first it swelled obscenely for a moment, as if some angry god was sucking some oversized morsel up a straw, then burst apart in a flash of cerulean light!

Everything after that was obscured by massive clouds of dust and debris, both from the explosion itself and from the contents of the dragon's stomach raining back down to the Earth. Slowly, Ranma lowered himself back to the ground, watching the massive clouds of dust nervously. Everyone knew what it meant when there was a giant dust cloud in Dragon Ball. No matter how insane the attack, or how powerful the fighter, or how impossible it was . . . if there was a dust cloud there . . .

It meant that his opponent was gonna be standing there when it finally cleared.

It started slowly, as the powerful downdraft provided by the circling helicopters began to displace the polluted air. If it weren't for the fact that it had been his attack, he'd say that the dust cloud was being intentionally overly dramatic.

So he leaned his back against the lamp post, taking a moment to clear his mind and catch his breath. He was pretty sure that Goku wasn't the type of guy to ruin a perfectly good dramatic reveal by rushing out to attack, so that meant he had a minute or two to recover. Idly, Ranma looked down, an odd sensation drawing his attention. What he saw puzzled him slightly . . .

His hands were shaking . . .

Whether from exhaustion, terror, or excitement, he just couldn't tell anymore. To be perfectly honest, his fight hadn't been at all taxing yet, just completely ineffectual, but he felt more emotionally drained than he could remember. Damn, he knew what it was: he was psyching himself out! The damn Saiyan hadn't even lifted a finger against him yet, either. It was embarrassing!

He gripped his thighs tightly, willing his fingers to stop trembling, forcing his breathing to slow down. He just had to remember that this wasn't the real Goku. By definition it couldn't be, because Goku was a fictional character. Sure, he was super strong and fast and powerful . . . but none of that mattered, right? As long as it wasn't really Goku. Whatever it was he was fighting, it was a creation, a copy, a cheap knock off. He had no idea how the hell Brushogun had done it, but that didn't matter either.

The heir to the Saotome School of Indiscriminate Grappling took one last, calming breath, before pushing himself to his full height. He wasn't going to lose here, not to a copy and not when Akane was counting on him. Placing one foot in front of the other, he began to walk back to ground zero.

Before him, the dust cloud was finally blown away. As he'd fully expected, it revealed the form of Goku, hunched forward slightly, shirt torn and hair mussed, but looking not much the worse for wear. As if he'd been waiting for the dust to clear before reacting, Goku finally straightened to his full height as well. Amazingly, though it looked like the Saiyan warrior had actually felt that attack, there was a wide smile on his face.

Actually, it wasn't really that surprising; Saiyans were masochistic freaks after all.

Nice to know that he'd amused the guy at least. Man, where was Ukyou when you needed someone called a Jackass? Well, he wasn't an idiot, he knew he wouldn't be able to beat his enemy as things stood, but that's why he was a martial arts genius, he'd just have to think outside the box.

"Well, let's get this over with," he stated loudly when he finally got within a dozen yards. He then stood his ground, planting his fists on his hips.

The alien fighter looked at him oddly for a moment, before shrugging it off. "Alight then, if that's what you want." Goku then dropped down into a low, familiar stance. His opponent slowly brought both hands up to his right side, cupping them tightly as if he were holding a small melon.

"Kame . . ."

A tiny speck of light formed directly between the palms of his cupped hands. Almost immediately, a gentle wind blasted outward, away from Goku, sweeping dust and small pieces of asphalt with it.

Ranma held his ground, staring seriously at the would-be-Goku, even as the weak wind tousled his hair.

"Hame . . ."

The speck suddenly expanded into a glowing blue sphere that filled the Saiyan's hands completely. The swirling orb of ki danced merrily, ghostly arcs of spiritual energy making it look very much like a cerulean sun surrounded by solar flares.

Ranma held his ground, though a single drop of sweat trickled down the side of his face . . .

". . . H-"

"Stop!"

Ranma smirked inwardly as the distraction technique of the Yamasen-ken worked perfectly . . . um, not that he would ever use the Yamasen-ken . . . what with his father never technically unsealing it or giving him permission to use it or anything . . . yeah.

Goku nearly choked on the final syllable of his attack, arms half extended, even the orb of ki had stopped swirling, as if it were shocked as well. The Saiyan actually glared at him from across the way.

"Would you quit doing that? What could you possibly want now? You've proved you're actually a minor threat, what more do you want?" asked the incredibly frustrated alien.

There was not a trace of humor in Ranma's voice when he answered this time. He glared right back at his opponent, a disappointed look in his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Goku actually looked taken aback by his rather frank question, straightening slightly. Half confused, half abashed, the Saiyan looked around haltingly. "Um . . . well, we're kind of enemies here, sooo, I thought I'd just blast you and get this over with, just like you said . . ."

Ranma's harsh stare only intensified.

"So you're a murderer then, is that what yer sayin'?" he asked pointedly.

This time, Goku glared back.

"Hey now! We're enemies, you just tried to kill me, too."

The Saotome heir grunted loudly.

"I'm not talkin' bout me, genius! I'm talkin' 'bout all the people behind me!" He gestured grandly to the vast city that stood at his back.

His enemy didn't quite seem to understand his point, considering his eloquent response.

"Hunh?"

"Just what the heck do ya think would happen if you fired that chi attack at me?" he asked in all seriousness.

Goku shrugged slightly. "Well, you'd probably try to dodge it, but you'd fail. It'd hit you and the fight would be over. That is what we're doing here, isn't it?"

This time, Ranma rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yer jokin', right? You told me how weak I am," he struggled mightily to spit out the word 'weak', "If you fired that thing off in my direction, it'd blast me to atoms without even missing a beat! Then where do ya think it would go? It'd tear through this city like tissue paper, and the city beyond that and the one beyond that. This island is one of the most densely populated places on the planet; do you have any idea how many million people you'd kill?"

And that didn't even count the possibility that Goku could be facing the mainland. What if the Kamehame Ha cut across the Sea and landed somewhere in China? Even if this Goku was at one percent of his full power, that just dropped him from a planet smasher to a city smasher. Gods, how the hell did Brushogun pull this off?

With surprising swiftness, the Kamehame Ha sphere dispersed into a harmless cloud of colored chi. It appeared his words had had a rather impressive impact. Goku suddenly began looking around, as if only just seeing the world around him that very moment. A horrified expression began to settle on the Saiyan's face, like watching a glacier flow down a mountain.

"My God . . . y-you're right . . . What was I thinking, why didn't I see that?" The noble alien looked at his hands, likely unable to recognize the trembling collection of digits that hung in the air before his face. Goku then looked up, staring at him in incomprehension. "Why would I even use that on you? It was completely unnecessary, I mean, you're so unbelievably weak . . ."

Ranma winced (and hard) at that, but tried to remember the source. "Exactly, don't ya think that there's something a little weird with this whole situation? Don't you think it's a bit odd that you would need to come here personally to stop someone as weak as me? I mean, you've already destroyed more of the city by just standing there, then I could going full out for a week."

Okay, so technically, it had been him that had destroyed the city, but there was no way he could have gotten the Hiryua Shoten Ha that big without hooking it up to a nuclear reactor . . . So, in his book, that definitely made it Goku's fault.

His befuddled opponent gazed back at him, gingerly rubbing a hand through his overly spiky anime hair. Unfortunately, Ranma wouldn't get to hear whatever the repentant looking alien was going to say-

Because a massive bolt of lightning suddenly crashed into Goku's chest, blasting him bodily back down the street!

Ranma nearly choked on his own tongue in shock! He spun around, glaring balefully at the pair of colorful youths that alighted on the ground behind him. Lightning turned to face his larger brother, Thunder. "A magnificent shot, do you not think, brother?"

Thunder just nodded, smiling happily. "Indeed, my brother. It appears that we have arrived just in time as well."

The master martial artist heard his knuckles pop in rapid succession as he curled his fingers into pale white fists. He could only watch morbidly as the two idiots patted each other on the back over a job well done.

"What are you idiots doing?"

His companion's looked at him oddly, obviously confused by his rather less than cordial salutation. Thunder stepped forward, a little tentatively.

"We have come to help you. Yours was the only battle we could quickly identify after we dealt with our opponent, so we made great haste to render our assistance to you."

Ranma refrained from growling audibly, there was no way that they could have known what he was trying to do. Of course, that didn't change the fact that they were completely boned now . . . With resigned dignity, he turned back down the street . . . to where Goku was regaining his feet.

The Saiyan no longer looked nearly as sympathetic or apologetic for his actions.

A sigh escaped the pigtailed boy's weathered lips. It was the story of his life, and all of the helpful people in it . . . one step forward, two steps back. He'd have to make sure that, in the highly unlikely event they actually survived the night, that he explained to his saviors just how appreciative he was for their help.

" . . . so gonna kill those guys . . ."

Akane was far too shocked to continue the verbal sparring with her vile captor. All around her, the sounds of battle had been raging for untold minutes. To the Far East, the sky was being lit with flashes of lightning and even from the distance (three steamboats by her count) the thunder that followed each stroke had still rattled her bones. Somewhere behind her, much closer, the sound of mass demolition filled the air, great plumes of debris and dust filling the air as it sounded like complete buildings were being torn apart. Off to the west, a familiar tornado surged into the sky, larger than any she had ever seen before, only to burst open in a brilliant flash of cerulean light. Most telling, though, was the sight that had occurred right before her eyes, the impossible sight of half of the Metropolitan Government Building collapsing into a mountain of rubble!

What in the world was happening out there?

She refused to give her captor the satisfaction of asking just what the hell was going on. He had long since vanished into whatever trance allowed him to watch all the battles simultaneously, and she had no real desire to speak to him further . . .

At least until Ryu suddenly arrived . . .

Or, more to the point, until Ryu was dropped before the feet of Brushogun by Tetsuo, like a cat presenting its kill to its master. She was still being held above the ground, unable to do anything, but even from her position, she could tell the young man was still breathing. Thank the gods for small miracles and all that. Unfortunately, he was in no condition to be doing any rescuing that was certain.

Several tense minutes later, the earth started to tremble as Unit One returned from digging itself out of the collapsed tower. Sadly, her sister's clever plan had been completely futile. If they were lucky, though, they could have escaped while it had been buried. There was no way that Akane could tell what had happened after the robot had started to smash the tower, as the debris instantly obfuscated the battleground.

Surprisingly, of his own accord, Brushogun slipped out of his trance, blinking rapidly for several moments. It seemed that her would be executioner was eagerly awaiting the approach of the giant purple mecha. Speaking of which, something had been confusing her . . .

"Hey. How did you get such a spineless wimp as Shinji to attack two defenseless young girls? I mean, Tetsuo I can understand completely, but Shinji?"

Brushogun just shrugged, jostling her slightly. Then, without even glancing her way, answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Dummy plug."

The youngest of the true Tendo sisters blinked . . . twice. Ahhh, well, that explained everything.

Then Unit One was before them. It dropped to a titanic knee, as if bowing to its miniscule master. It was a very odd scene for Akane to take in, which was saying a lot considering her life up to that point. She felt herself holding in a breath, as she desperately hoped that Natsume and Kurumi had, indeed, escaped. Her hope began to die quickly, though, as the metallic beast slowly lowered a loose fist down to the ground before them. It then unfurled the great fist, revealing the two figures that were contained within.

Akane let out an anguished gasp!

It was worse than she had imagined. Natsume and Kurumi were both there, but there was so much blood that she couldn't imagine they were still alive! Both girls looked like they were on the ground floor when the tower had collapsed; they were so covered with filth, bruises and blood. It was a minor miracle that their clothes still preserved even a shred of modesty, having been nearly shredded in the ordeal.

Her tears didn't even register until they dripped wetly onto her hands, which were tightly clasped over her mouth in shock. It couldn't be, they couldn't have all come this far just to . . . just to . . .

"Don't worry, my dear. They aren't dead . . . yet," stated her malicious companion. She turned to stare at him, confusion on her face. He rolled his eyes in amusement. "Don't go getting any silly notions, little girl. I'm not sparing your friends, merely collecting them for the grand finale. Once your loving fiancé arrives, then we can finally bring this story to its proper close."

Brushogun then looked to the west, in the general direction of where the tornado had surged to life and died with equal ferocity just minutes earlier. A far away look entered the demon's eyes for a moment, before he turned to regard her once more. The vitriolic smile that graced the demon's slick skull only widened.

"Yes, it's only a matter of time now, the final three will be joining us shortly."

Goku backhanded his pigtailed opponent, launching the boy thirty feet through the air to smash through a concrete building front. Without missing a beat, he then ducked under a blue beam of coherent sound and spun, quickly lifting his leg into the air to land a heel kick to the shoulder of the pale haired boy that was trying to sneak up behind him. The kick landed home with enough force to nearly bury the poor guy in the pavement, thankfully the little guy was tougher than he looked.

The Saiyan warrior then leapt into the air and pointed a single finger at the large youth that had kept his distance. The blue tinted boy cupped both of his hands at his side in a very familiar pose, a sphere of energy gathering between the palms. Hmm, interesting, that. Deciding to be a little sporting, he let the kid actually fire off the blast.

Another lance of azure light filled the air, arrowing straight in his direction. Hmm, the blue guy didn't yell out an attack or anything. Shrugging at the small details, Goku simply gathered a tiny bit of energy at the tip of his finger and fired it back at his armored opponent.

In an unimpressive display, rather than meet the brilliantly glowing azure beam head on, and erupt into an epic struggle of sheer willpower, his beam drilled straight down the entire length of his enemy's attack without even slowing. The young man barely had time to dive to the side as the pencil thin ray of cerulean energy shredded his entire attack and nearly lanced straight through his torso. As it was, the boy landed roughly on his side, breaths coming in ragged gasps and his eyes wide with shock.

The fight (if you could even call it that) had only been going on for about a minute, but Goku was starting to get that strange feeling again that something wasn't right. He berated himself, now, for letting someone actually get the drop on him in such an embarrassing manner. However, he also had to admit that, while the pale kid's ki attack had been much more powerful than the pigtailed kid's, it still wasn't anything for him to actually be worried about.

So, why was he fighting these people again?

He landed gently on the ground, then casually slid his right foot back, angling his body out of the way of a flying kick. A backhand was launched at him even before the kick had missed, which he easily leaned back to avoid as well. Then the red shirted youth's toe touched the ground, which seemed to be more than enough contact for the boy to suddenly corkscrew in midair and launch an awkwardly angled kick that the Saiyan was actually forced to jump back to avoid.

A second later, the younger martial artist was in his face again, launching not just lightning fast punches, but a brilliantly strung together series of attacks that would have been all but impossible for Goku to follow if he weren't so much faster. The sheer variety of attacks was staggering, and the boy used feints within feints within feints. There were actually several times that he nearly fell into one of his opponent's traps, despite outclassing him completely.

Then they both broke off, as another bolt of thunder tore through the air where they had both been standing a second earlier. He nearly chuckled at how his opponent had very nearly corralled him into a perfectly set up sneak attack. The boy wasn't just trying to beat him up; he was actually trying to manufacture openings for his allies to attack at the same time. It was really quite impressive, showing not only remarkable skill, but also a keen mind for tactics and strategy.

He felt a small smile quirk up the corner of his mouth.

He wished that he had met this kid twenty years ago! How differently would this fight be unfolding then? Or even better, if this kid had been a Saiyan himself! The idea of someone so skilled with that kind of power? It actually sent a tingle down his spine.

Oop, he noticed that he was blocking the pigtailed boy's attacks by instinct alone while he'd been thinking. Off to the side, the larger youth was pulling the pale skinned boy out of the crater he'd been buried in. The lightning haired kid was actually still conscious, pretty impressive, and shaking his head furiously. It looked like they'd all be back in the fight soon.

An angry snarl brought his attention back to his current opponent. Judging by the look on the kid's face, he'd realized that Goku hadn't been paying him much attention lately. His blocking was rather haphazard and now that he was focusing on his fight again, he noticed that a few of his enemy's attacks had actually landed home . . . not that they'd actually hurt or anything, but it was still impressive. Still smiling weakly, he nodded to the pigtailed youth.

"I must admit, you are better than me," he cheerfully admitted to his young enemy.

He was completely shocked, however, when instead of chuckling or making some kind of witty banter, the pigtailed boy let out an inarticulate howl of rage! The inarticulate howl was followed by a most articulate one.

"Mouko Takabisha!"

Goku crossed his arms as the point blank chi blast washed over him and pushed him back several feet. Before the wash of chi even subsided, a fist was already tearing through it, middle knuckle extended and leading the way directly for his eye! The Saiyan warrior actually let out an undignified squeak as the vicious attack nearly rammed into his eye socket. Not that it actually would have hurt, but, man, it was still a shock!

"Shut up!" yelled the pigtailed warrior furiously. "I'm through playing with you! I don't care if you are freakin' Goku!" The boy resumed his attack, a pale golden aura beginning to form around him. "Your master has my fiancée and if I don't get back there, he's gonna kill her!" his voice cracked painfully at the admission.

The Saiyan's eyes shot wide open at that. Suddenly he found himself backpedaling from the furious assault, more out of shock than fear. What had the kid meant by that? Why was this situation so familiar? He looked around at the three children that were surrounding him now. The pale youth, staggering weakly and cradling his right arm after Goku's kick, but still standing, still determined to defeat him. The larger boy, keeping a worried eye on his companion, but also circling around for an angle of attack. The look on his face seemed to say that he knew this was a fight that they couldn't win, and yet they continued to struggle.

That wasn't what villains did!

And the pigtailed boy before him, pain etched onto his features, both physical and emotional. The boy knew who he was, knew what he was. This boy knew that he had absolutely no chance at victory, but still came at him with everything he had.

"But-"

"I'm not gonna let Akane down! I don't care if you're stronger than me! I don't care if you're a thousand times stronger, a million times stronger! I won't let you win!"

Something odd was happening to the pigtailed warrior's aura . . . it was getting . . . heavier . . .

"If I lose here, then Akane'll die . . . Natsume and Kurumi are probably already dead, Ryu too . . ." The kid suddenly stopped his attack, mumbling quietly, almost to himself. "There's no way I can win . . . I'll die here and everyone in the city will die because I was so weak, so pathetic . . ."

Goku stood perfectly still, looking oddly at his enemy. What was going on? Where had all the guy's spirit gone? It was like he'd just given up, just accepted his fate. It seemed so unlike the boy . . .

And his aura was getting even stranger, the very flavor of it seemed to be changing, becoming . . . less palatable. There seemed to be some kind of buildup of chi, but it didn't seem like an attack of any kind, the boy wasn't focusing it at all, just kind of stewing in his own juices. The boy was looking at his own hands now, a deeply melancholy expression on his face.

"I-I'll never get the chance to tell her . . ."

Suddenly the weight of the boy's chi seemed to double instantly. How was he doing that? What was he doing, for that matter?

. . . Spiraling . . . that's what it reminded him of! It was like the boy's chi was spiraling downward, but that didn't really make any sense whatsoever.

More importantly, why did this young villain seem to believe that he, and all the people of the city, would die if he lost this fight? Why was he so determined to fight even though he knew he couldn't win? What possible reason could he have to do something so incredibly dumb?

In an instant, everything clicked! Almost as if someone had turned a tumbler in his mind, he suddenly knew exactly what was going on. It was the most obvious thing in the world, something that he personally had had several lifetimes of experience with. He would have laughed if it weren't for the suicidal depression that his opponent seemed to have fallen into! There was only one reason that people would continually and relentlessly attempt to do something that seemed so crazy, insane, or just plain stupid . . .

Because it's the right thing to do.

It all made sense now, except that it didn't make sense at all. He was the villain here; the boy was the hero, desperately fighting to save his friends and his fiancée. It didn't make any sense, but he'd been in the boy's situation so often that it was impossible for him to miss it. Heck, how had he missed it up to that point to begin with? He'd so obviously out powered the boy since the very start of the fight, why had it taken him so long to realize that something was so fundamentally wrong here?

He continued to watch the pigtailed warrior. The young man had continued to mutter to himself, but Goku couldn't make out hardly anything that he was saying now. Whatever it was, the boy looked practically ready to end it all. Well, it was time to put a stop to this, there was no way that Son Goku was going to be the villain in anyone's story!

"Perfect S-"

"Wait!"

Goku smiled as his unexpected shout seemed to snap the boy out of the trance he had been in. The pigtailed boy looked up at him, half surprised, half angry as all heck.

"What?" barked the boy irately.

The alien warrior just smiled, his first genuine smile of the night.

"I surrender."

It was said like it was the simplest thing in the world to understand.

Except that it wasn't! What the heck? Ranma felt his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets and his jaw practically unhinged itself in shock as he stared at the alien fighter. Fortunately, if there was one thing that Saotome Ranma was good at, it was adapting to his situation. So, he did the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh, thank the gods!" He dropped down to his haunches, breathing in huge gulps of air.

Thank the gods indeed! There was no way that he'd actually wanted to go through with that. He couldn't actually believe that he'd been desperate enough to even try it, but, considering what he was up against, it was the only thing he could think of that made any sense at all. Genius or not, he didn't have any experience at all even attempting the powerful technique and it likely would have backfired pretty spectacularly this first time . . .

"Wait a second! Why the heck are you surrendering?" he asked from his crouched position.

Goku just shrugged.

"Bad guys aren't usually known for their selflessness, and good guys don't usually attack people that are a lot weaker than themselves. I don't know what's going on, but it sure as heck seems like I'm in the wrong here."

Ranma considered that for a moment, before standing back up again. Suddenly a smile bloomed on his face. "Heh, you could be right. Of course, the only way to be sure is to go and ask Brushogun, just to make sure, ya know."

The spiky haired Z-fighter nodded, smiling agreeably. "I think you're right. Follow me, I think it's about time that I gave my two weeks notice." Suddenly the smile vanished, replaced by a deadly serious expression.

With that, Goku turned and started walking back the way they came.

The Saotome Heir just shrugged as well. Then he quickly wandered over to the very confused pair of elementals. They stared at him, questions on their faces, as he strolled over. Again, he simply shrugged.

"C'mon, guys, let's go get that bastard."

Thunder and Lightning stared at him oddly for a moment, turned to regard each other for a moment, then turned back to face him again. Then they both shrugged as well.

"Very well . . ."

"Let us be off!"

With that, the three of them started following Goku, walking and limping to various degrees. One last thought crossed Ranma's mind, though, before they got too far. Slowly, he turned to face his companions.

"So, who'd you guys fight, and how'd ya beat em?" he asked curiously.

Thunder looked to his brother quickly. Lightning nodded almost imperceptibly, continuing to walk forward. Thunder nodded slightly at the gesture, then turned back to him.

"We battled the oddly dressed young girl . . . as for how we prevailed . . ." For some reason, his noble companion wore a hint of blush on his already dark cheeks . . .

"It went something like this . . ."

Another blast of thunder skipped harmlessly off of the Sailor girl's indestructible wall. She didn't even pay it the slightest heed. Not that that surprised Thunder in the least. Their opponent's defense had proved to be all but impenetrable to their power. If it weren't for the fact that her attacks were rather slow and predictable (despite being unbelievably massive!) he and his brother, both, would have been dead long ago. Something was different this time, though. Even from the distance, he could see a small smile form on the young woman's perfect lips . . . it was not a smile which instilled him with great confidence. She then raised her Glaive high above her.

He prepared to vacate the area quickly, anticipating another attack . . . except no attack came . . .

Rather, she began to twirl in place, the blade of her weapon glowing with a brilliant purple light as she did. It was a rather ponderous spin and he could do nothing but stare at her in confusion. What in the world was she doing? His brother was similarly confounded.

". . . death . . ." The word drifted up to his ears, carried by favorable air currents.

Well . . . that could hardly be a good thing. A flash of light filled his vision and suddenly his brother was at his side. The two of them stared down as the girl continued her slow spin.

"W . . . what do you suppose she is doing, brother?" he asked quietly.

His brother raised a finger and opened his mouth to respond . . . held the pose for a moment . . . then dropped his finger.

"I honestly have no idea, brother."

They continued to watch as the weapon's glow increased several fold. Oddly, in the distance, they could see thousands of . . . purple ribbons? . . . winding through the air, flying towards their opponent and filling the air with their childish tackiness. The girl continued her spin, for a moment their eyes locked with hers as she looked up at them.

"Reborn . . ." This time they could hear her voice clearly as she called out the word forcefully.

Well . . . that word wasn't as bad as the first . . . He turned back to his brother.

"Perhaps . . . perhaps it is an attack of some sort?"

Lightning considered that for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, yes, that does seem likely."

Thunder thought for another moment. "Well . . .," he began tenuously.

"Well, what?"

"Perhaps it would be best if we stopped her?"

Lightning looked back at him, then to the twirling female once more.

"Are you certain? . . .it almost seems . . . rude . . ."

Below them, the girl completed another revolution. This time bringing her weapon back slightly, as if preparing to slam the magnificently glowing blade of her weapon to the earth with all of her gathered power behind it. All around them, the ribbons drew closer as well . . . it was slightly unnerving.

The spirit of thunder looked back to his brother. "Umm . . . I believe that it would be best if we did interfere . . . just this once . . ."

Lightning didn't look quite as sure. "Are you sure? Maybe we shou – "

"Should what?"

"No, no, forget what I just said."

"Are you sure? What were you going to say?"

"No, worry not, it was of no consequence . . ."

"Really? It sounded like you had an idea-"

"No, let us just get this over wi-"

"Revolution!" The cry split the air, being both terrifyingly loud and traumatically silent at the same time.

The shout startled the elemental spirits from their rather tepid debate. As one, the two brothers locked gazes one last time, before launching forward at the speed of sound.

In the blink of an eye, they traversed the distance between them, one of them alighting to the ground at either side of the scantily clad young woman. As one, they both drew back their hands, gathering their power between their cupped palms. Azure blue and golden yellow light joined the strobing purple of their foe's glowing halberd. The girl began to swing her weapon forward, to slam it to the ground, but her attack slowed to a crawl as she suddenly realized something was amiss.

Her weapon still well above her head . . . the girl slowly turned her lovely face to regard him, a most put out expression on her face as she witnessed the gathered power he held in his hands. She then slowly looked to her other side. Thunder had no doubt that the blinding light of his brother's lightning filled her world with dazzling white as she stared at the gathered energy he now wielded.

With a weak, apologetic shrug, they both pushed forward with all of their might, unleashing the full power of the heavens unto the frail form of the slight female before them . . .

And then everything . . .

Went . . .

White.

Ranma blinked . . .

Twice.

Brushogun smiled as he watched his drama unfold. Everything was proceeding exactly as he'd planned. Perhaps even better than planned! In just a few scant minutes, the final players would arrive, with the reluctant hero. The Demon Lord of Ink quickly checked his surroundings, he wanted everything to be just so when they finally arrived.

Let us see . . . Giant robot standing menacingly behind him . . . excellent. Glowering psychic standing indignantly at his side, also good. The unconscious bodies of Saotome's fallen comrades artfully laid out before him, a very nice touch, that.

A violently struggling damsel held in his clutches . . . that wouldn't do, not at all. How foolish would he look just standing there holding Saotome's fiancée in his hand? Something a little more artful was required. The demon considered his quandary for a moment, before a perfect solution came to mind.

Leaning down carefully, he touched a single, jagged talon to the pavement at his side. Instantly, tiny trails of midnight black ink began to run in sharp lines away from his finger, gathering at a single point several yards to stage left. She was an important prop after all, couldn't have her outside of the scene. For a short moment, the black ink bubbled and boiled on that single spot, before it began to rise into the air, reaching hungrily towards the sky.

As the ink rose up, the structure he had in mind began to form. The base first, a simple, square beam of reddish, rusted metal. It rose up precisely seven feet, before branching out starkly. Even as the two rusted arms formed, the center continued to rise for several more feet. When all was said and done, a beautifully macabre cross stood in the night. Its jagged edges cried of pain; its rusted surface, the color of long dried blood, screamed of suffering. It was perfect . . . almost.

With a thought, he tilted it just a few degrees to the side . . .

Perfect!

Extremely happy with his latest piece of decor, he flowed over to it and held his captive up against its tetanus invoking surface.

"Hey! Hey! What do you think you're doi-"

He cut off her annoying chattering by slamming her head against the unforgiving metal of the cross. It produced a most entertaining gong sound that widened the already unnaturally wide smile on his face. He then held her to the restraint again, this time small tendrils of ink flowed out of the metal to wrap around her waist, ankles, wrists and neck. The tendrils then pulled tight, hugging her intimately to the cross, before turning, themselves, into rusted metal.

. . . as an afterthought, he tore the dazed girl's shirt open. Just a bit, though, enough to draw the eye, but nothing indecent. He did have a worldwide audience after all, who knew who could be watching?

"There, my dear, now the scene is set. I must admit, you make a wonderful damsel in distress." He spun around, enjoying the moment, enjoying the knowledge that everything was just going so perfectly! The hero, while distraught and beset by misfortune, was still progressing towards his goal. Everything was still up in the air, three allies defeated, two allies victorious; an enemy defeated and even a betrayal of the grandest sort!

Keep the readers guessing, it was a cardinal rule. He bet that some of those poor fools watching still believed that Saotome actually had a chance to succeed too! He certainly hoped that all of them did. It would just make it all the sweeter when he crushed the fool boy, to turn that hope into despair with a single swipe of his claws.

Oop, his victims were almost here. He quickly moved back to center of the street, carefully cloaking himself in the massive shadow of the Evangelion.

There! In the distance, the quartet finally turned the corner. The four of them, Saotome, Lightning and Thunder, being led by his own creation, Goku. With feral grace and deadly intent, they made their way to the center of the street and began walking towards him. An errant breeze stirred to life, blowing dramatically through their hair as they walked against the wind. The traitorous Saiyan walked several yards ahead of the three youths, the two elementals flanking Saotome as they followed. The stern expression on Goku's face was dwarfed by the look of righteous fury that adorned the faces of the three boys that followed in his wake.

Oh, this was going to be wonderful! And he knew just how to get things started.

To his side, Tetsuo let out a loud growl, before levitating several inches above the ground. Then, without a second's hesitation, the red caped youth exploded into action, soaring down the street towards the three heroes. Tetsuo let out a harsh yell as he soared, his hands trailed behind him, the pavement tearing into twin furrows at the fury of his passage. The psychic's power would not be denied, even as he flew past, the shattered remnants of the street rose up in the air, shedding the frail fetters of gravity.

Saotome and his two companions stopped their approach and took up combat stances, unsure of what to expect . . .

Then Goku vanished . . .

There was a flash of movement too fast for the eye to follow, even a demonic eye such as Brushogun's. A fraction of a second later, the vibration of the air molecules finally conveyed the sound that accompanied the violent burst of action. By the time the deafening sound of bone crushing into bone with cruel abandon reached his ears, the scene had finally resolved itself.

There, standing in the center of the street, now two dozen yards ahead of his companions, Goku stood. The Saiyan's right fist was raised, a smear of red ink painted across the back of it as he held it to his side. Twenty feet to the alien's side, the building was now coated in a layer of equally red ink, ten feet wide and three stories high.

It took several more moments for everything to finally catch up to that impossible action. Even the rubble that had followed in Tetsuo's wake hovered for a disturbing eternity, before it all finally crashed to the ground.

Saotome, Lightning and Thunder could only stare in horror at what had just happened. Likely they were imagining what could have happened to them if Goku had so chosen to attack them. Goku then looked up, meeting his gaze finally. The Saiyan even had the audacity to smile!

"It's all over Brushogun . . .," stated the proud alien warrior.

Brushogun simply nodded.

"Indeed it is . . . for you."

Realization, cold and cruel, washed over Ranma when he heard those words. He knew exactly what was going to happen next, and it twisted his insides fiercely. Apparently Goku realized what was going to happen as well, as the most powerful martial artist in the universe turned to face the three of them. Surprisingly, there was still a smile on the warrior's face, though it was tinted with sadness.

"It was a pleasure to fight with you, Ranma." Goku's smile widened and the alien offered him a quick salute. "Don't let this guy beat you, kid. It'd be a waste for such an amazing fighter to buy it in a place like this."

Ranma didn't know what to say, what to think . . .

"But – but you can't go like that! That guy's no match for you . . . y-you're freakin Goku!"

Goku simply shrugged, accepting his fate in that way that only the really noble kind of person can.

"Hopefully we'll meet again some day. Good luck, kid."

And then Goku died.

It wasn't at all spectacular, as Mecha-Boi's demise had been. More of a simple reversal of his creation, than any elaborate death scene. The Saiyan simply seemed to lose cohesion, before collapsing into an orange pile of goo . . .

He had no idea why, but the sight enraged him more than he would have thought possible. Suddenly the world consisted of only two things: his fist . . . and Brushogun. It was like the mythical last straw which collapsed the vertebrae of the desert dwelling ungulate. All of the pain, the fear, the anger, the uncertainty . . . and now this too?

Without wasting another breath, he stalked forward to finally confront his mysterious foe. He heard his companions follow, not that he even cared at the moment. A half a minute later, he was standing before the looming figure of Brushogun, the towering creature hanging above him. He looked to the side, where Akane was being displayed like a painting. The sight of her torn shirt only fueled the fire of his anger. What had this perverted freak done to her?

He turned back to Brushogun, locking gazes with the imperious demon. Brushogun stared down at him, vile smile hanging tauntingly on his face.

"Well done, well done, Saotome. I knew you would get this fa-"

A beam of golden chi, mixed heavily with violent crimson, did an impressive job of shutting the arrogant bastard the hell up! The blast lifted the ooze covered villain into the air and back several yards to crash down in a smoking heap.

Rather than follow up the attack, Ranma ran over to Akane. As he did, he turned to yell at Thunder and Lightning. "Guys! Get those three out of here!" he pointed to the comatose bodies of Natsume, Kurumi and Ryu. Without questioning, they did as he asked. Lightning quickly picked up Kurumi, while Thunder threw Natsume and Ryu over his massive shoulders.

He ignored that, reaching Akane a second later. He looked up, making sure that she wasn't seriously hurt. She looked back down at him, a serious look on her face.

"Ranma! I have to tell you quickly. Brushogun is an ink demon! That's what all of his minions are made of, that's what he's made of," she explained insistently.

He smiled widely, both at her uninjured status and her revelation. He quickly leapt up and snapped off the restraint on her neck. "Alright, Akane! That's great! So, what's his weakness?" he asked excitedly.

The Tendo girl met his gaze, her excited expression fading. "Uhhh, what do you mean 'what's his weakness'? I told you what he was so you could figure that out. You don't actually think he told me what his weakness was, did you?"

He slapped his free hand against his forehead. "Sheesh, 'Kane, what good does that do me? What does it matter what those guys are made of, they're still super powerful!" he barked back in irritation.

His restrained fiancée rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Oh, well excuse me for being kidnapped again! Do you have any idea what I've been through this week? I even passed up a chance to escape just so I could tell you that. You'd think you'd at least have a shred of gratitude!"

"You did what!" he shouted in disbelief. "You gave up a chance to get the hell out of here to tell me that? What on earth am I supposed to do with that?"

"Absolutely nothing."

That was not Akane's voice! Both of them turned quickly (as much as possible in her case) to see the looming form of Brushogun only a handful of yards away. There was not a single sign that the demon had just been blasted full on in the face by a furious assault of chi. Not even a wisp of smoke, damn it! In fact, Brushogun appeared to be in quite a good mood.

"There is absolutely nothing you can do to stop me, Saotome. Yes, I am the Demon Lord of Ink, but that knowledge will avail you nothing. I have no weakness for you to exploit, no vulnerability for you to attack." Brushogun raised a clawed arm before him, the moonlight reflecting along the slick lengths of his razor talons. "I. Am. Beyond you!"

Damn it! He was stuck, hanging right beside Akane. If he moved to dodge, Brushogun would just hit her! If he didn't move . . . Well, that was no decision at all, really. In a flash, he interposed himself between Akane and the slowly raising claws of the villainous demon.

"Hold, Demon!"

The abrupt shout stopped Brushogun's deadly assault in its tracks. As one, Ranma, Akane and the Ink Demon all turned to gaze at the speaker . . .s. Thunder and Lightning were standing at the center of the street, smiling malevolently. In the distance, Ranma saw a number of uniformed officers carrying the injured martial artists away. He was just glad that the cops had mostly stuck around this area, he'd hate to imagine what would have happened if there had actually been any officers in the vicinity of any of their battles.

Brushogun scoffed loudly.

"Bit players! What are you still doing here? Can't you see that I am preparing to kill the protagonist?"

The brothers continued to smile. Thunder crossed his massive arms over his equally massive chest, before sharing a quick glance with his brother, who was bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

"It is a poor writer whom neglects the actions of his characters, no matter how minor they might appear. Especially when those bit players have the power to end your evil forever!"

This time, Brushogun laughed, long and loud. After several moments, the demon wiped a tear of black ink from his eye, still chuckling weakly at Thunder's brave declaration. "Please, please don't embarrass yourselves like that. True, your powers over thunder and lightning are impressive, but in no way do they compare to the infinite might that is mine to command. I've already proven that I can destroy you at my whim. Would you care to fight another Saiyan? A dozen, a hundred? What could the likes of you two possibly do to stop me?"

Lightning stepped forward at that, hiding his limp and ignoring his injured shoulder bravely. The pale skinned youth smiled widely and arrogantly, his hands resting on his hips and his chest pushed out. He then lifted his hand and waved dramatically.

"I am so glad that you asked that question, Ink Demon!"

"Let us show you!"

His eyes fluttered open . . . though, he almost wished they hadn't. As soon as the weak light filtered in past his sagging eyelids, it must have sent some signal that his brain was up and running again, because a scant few seconds after opening said eyes, messages started rushing in from every inch of his body.

Unfortunately, all of the messages shared the same general gist: pain. Certainly, he was surprised by the sheer variety of the pain he was currently feeling, but at least the fact that he was still feeling pain was actually a good sign at this point. With agonizing slowness, he rolled over onto his back and pushed himself up to a sitting position.

A quick scan of his surroundings told him pretty much what had happened. He was currently sitting on the floor in the middle of a relatively upscale hotel room. The smashed window marked his entrance; it was a damn good thing that he'd decided to wear his trench coat, its heavy leather seemed to have protected him from getting too cut up. The wall before him had a shattered painting hanging from it, though the wall itself really wasn't any worst for wear. Honestly, he'd half expected the wall to shatter like glass when he'd hit it; unfortunately, it had been pretty much the opposite that had happened. Obviously he'd been hanging out with Saotome too long, it was starting to loosen his tenuous grip on reality.

Of course, it was about then that he noticed the nice, fluffy, queen sized bed sitting about two feet to his side.

"Thank goodness this nice, hardwood floor broke my fall, I'd hate to think how landing on that soft, comfy bed would have traumatized me . . ." Why did the gods hate him so?

And why was he talking to himself, for that matter?

Well, at least it was good for something. Reaching out, he gripped the side of the bed and used it to lever his aching body up to its feet. That was it, seriously. No more freak fighting for him, one super villain was more than enough. If Saotome actually managed to beat that demon and they didn't all die, he was retiring! . . . or at least transferring to a different department. Maybe homicide? Suzahara certainly didn't have to deal with this kind of stress.

After he stopped wobbling, the policeman carefully brushed off most of the remaining glass shards, before shaking his coat to get rid of the rest. Satisfied that he was mostly cleaned up, he leaned down again (back complaining all the way) to recover his most important piece of police equipment.

His fedora.

Smiling grimly, he brushed the leather hat against his shin a few times, before reverently resting it back upon his head. Taking another minute or so to stand up again, he considered his options. He had no idea how long he'd been out, or what had transpired while he had been. Strangely, it was very quiet outside the destroyed window and there weren't any bodies flying past . . . so obviously a look was required.

Moving slowly, more from pain than concern, he made his way to the remains of the window. Hmm . . . yup, they were still boned. Looked like most of the gang was here now, though. Demon, check, Saotome, check, storm kids, check. That loopy broad that the kung fu kid liked had managed to get herself captured again, and in style this time. He'd have felt bad for her, if he hadn't expressly told her to get the hell outta there. Kids these days, no respect for their elders, and see what it gets them?

Well, nothing to do but go down and join the party. His laser toy was garbage, but he still had his revolver. It was better than nothing, he supposed. Of course, how you could use a bullet to hurt a demon composed of ink, he had no idea, but then, he doubted Saotome or his buddies had any idea either.

Limping weakly, he exited the room, entering a living room. Nice one, too, hopefully this building didn't get any more destroyed than it already was, maybe he'd get a room here, live it up a bit. A moment later, he was in the hallway and making his way to the elevator.

As he wandered down the nicely decorated hallway, he stopped suddenly. Something had caught his attention rather unexpectedly. His mind started racing a mile a minute at what he saw . . .

His reflection.

Ranma stared at his comrades in confusion, he had no idea what they had planned. However, they were confident. Confident was good, confident was great! Confident just saved him from getting disemboweled.

And then, with a crack of thunder, the two elementals disappeared in a flash of lightning into the heavens.

. . . The pigtailed martial artist's jaw started working on its own, desperately struggling words that absolutely refused to come . . . The three remaining earthbound looked at the scorched circle of pavement for several more moments. Akane broke the silence first . . .

". . . they . . . they ditched us?"

Ranma didn't even bother to face her, eyes still glued to the area of the rapid departure. "I – I don't think they'd just ditch us . . . I think . . ."

Hysterical laughter filled the night, drawing their gazes back to the Ink Demon. Brushogun's shoulders hitched uncontrollably as the demon just laughed and laughed.

Unbeknownst to them all, the sky above them began to fill ominously with dark clouds . . .

Brushogun turned to face the two of them, still snickering weakly. "Marvelous, simply marvelous! I haven't seen an exit that rapid since the US was asked to join the Kyoto protocol! I had no idea that your friends were such spineless cowards, Saotome. You must be quite proud!"

A snarl escaped his lips, as he bristled nastily at the sharp words. He didn't know why, but he felt the strong need to stand up for his friends. After all they'd been through together, he just couldn't believe they'd flee like that. Of course, their marked absence said differently, but he did tend to believe the best in people.

"They didn't run away, bastard. They're just doin' . . . somethin' . . .," he trailed off weakly.

"Ha! Indeed: escaping! I must say, they are the most intelligent young heroes I've ever met."

The angry martial artist swung out his arm, physically dismissing his foe's words. "They ain't cowards, and they ain't runnin! They got somethin up their sleeves, and when they get back, you'll see what it is!"

Brushogun ran a long talon along his chin, tearing paper and spilling ink as he did. Of course, the wound healed instantly, but it was still disturbing. "Of course, boy. I'm certain they have a grand pla-"

The rest of the demon's words were drowned out by a deafening crash of thunder. Suddenly, Ranma was looking at the sky, just now noticing the black layer of clouds that hung in the air above them. He . . . was pretty sure that those hadn't been there just a few minutes ago . . . Lightning crashed, followed by another peal of thunder; the entire city shook beneath the might of the growing storm.

And suddenly, like a flipped switch, Ranma knew what their plan was.

"Oh, hell . . ."

For a desperate moment, he frantically looked for any possible cover . . . but, again, came to the sad realization that saving himself would only be putting Akane in danger. Seriously, he liked the girl like crazy, but could she not go five days without getting kidnapped? He could guarantee this kind of thing wouldn't happen if he was dating Raven, or Jinx, like Ryouga had. Heck, bad guys would probably be kidnapping him to get to the girls!

And then the rain fell.

This, of course, had the instantaneous effect of emasculating him on international television . . . Gods, her life sucked. But, on the bright side, there wasn't anything for Nabiki to blackmail her about . . . unless she found out about that thing she'd done that time . . . She shook her head quickly. Yes, it was definitely a lead lining around the massive cloud of her curse being made global knowledge. Heck, it wasn't even the curse that she was worried about; as much as the fact that everyone in the world would think she was a cross-dresser or something.

The rather buxom young red head let out a sigh, again plotting the demise of her comrades, when she heard the wail. Looking up from her recent additions, she noticed something odd was happening all around her. Beside her, the metal structure that was holding Akane, it looked to be . . . melting. Each drop of rain that touched the rusted metal ate into the material hungrily, reducing it into a black sludge. If it weren't for the fact that Akane and herself were both completely fine (if a bit soaked now) she'd have imagined the rain was pure acid.

And everyone knows that acid rain is just wrong.

In the distance, the behemoth that was the Evangelion was being similarly undone! The skeletal giant was bowing under the rain, trying to shield itself vainly with armor plated purple arms. Of course, being a twelve story giant, it was gonna take a hell of a lot of rain to dissolve that monster. Ranma actually found herself smiling, though, since it seemed that might not be necessary.

Brushogun stood before her, howling in agony as the rain slashed into his ink stained hide. The Ink Demon fell back, its arms weakly flailing, desperately struggling to hold back the rain. Who'd have thought that the battle would be ended so easily? Defeat Ancient Demon: Just add water!

Her lips fell slightly at that thought . . .

Brushogun's struggles only grew in their fervor, as the demon wailed to the heavens. Why did this whole scene remind her of something? It was right on the tip of her tongue, she could have sworn she'd been here before for some reason.

Crap . . . Now she remembered where she'd seen this. The cursed martial artist let out a long, weary sigh, before cinching her loosened belt. Now was no time to be a pansy; time to man up and bite the bullet (or something like that, it'd been awhile since she'd seen that show, or movie, or whatever)

"Would you just quit it? You're embarrassing yourself, ya big ass ink blotch," she barked out irately.

Instantly, Brushogun's struggles ceased, and he rose back to his full height, an annoyed look on his face. She noticed that even as the rain stripped the ink from his skin, it was being replaced just as quickly.

"Really? Again? Have people in this era just become so incredibly jaded that they won't believe anything anymore? I mean, I didn't even have the chance to get to my 'what a world, what a world' bit." The demon waved its arm in annoyance, a steady stream of inky water running down his hand and splashing to the pavement loudly.

The blue eyed girl just snorted loudly. "Please, I've seen the 'pretending to be defeated just to get a laugh' thing done, like, a month ago. And I gotta say, that girl really sold it. Face it, Ink Blot, you can draw, but ya can't act." She smiled confidently and crossed her arms over, then quickly under her chest, even as she quailed internally. What the heck was she gonna do now? If the rain couldn't stop this thing, then what could?

"I admire the brave front, Miss Ranko, but I am a Demon! Did you and your friends think something as simple as rain could defeat me? My powers have grown beyond such a meager weakness."

A loud growl escaped her lips. "My name ain't Ranko, ya stupid demon!" She quickly followed it up by dropping into a combat stance. Even as her anger was trying to get the best of her, though, her mind was quickly analyzing the situation around her. Akane's prison was still dissolving, another minute at the most and she'd be free, probably sooner if she brought her gorilla like strength to bear. In the distance, the giant continued to melt, even as Brushogun monologued. Slowly, her angry scowl melted into a sly smirk.

"Hmm, maybe yer right, maybe the rain ain't enough to beat ya. But I'll bet that it's weakenin' ya a lot more than yer lettin' on! Looks to me like you're spending most of your power just holding yourself together; you can't even keep your puppets up and runnin' in this kinda rain." She cracked her knuckles threateningly, slowly starting to bounce from foot to foot with noisy splashes. Time was on her side, for probably the first time in the history of the world! The longer she could keep this creep talking, the more damage the rain would do. It was awesome!

Brushogun absently ran his hand across his forehead, wiping away rain and ink, revealing soggy parchment beneath for a half a second. The demon then shook his head sadly, before a shark's smile found its way onto his grim face. "Perhaps you are correct, Miss Saotome, or perhaps . . ."

Suddenly the demon raised both hands to the sky, the very air around them warping in a stomach twisting display of unholy power.

"You are underestimating my Power!"

And then he slammed his clawed hands to the street; cracks extended outward in every direction for several meters – wait! Those weren't cracks, they were trails of ink!

She dodged to the side quickly, as one of the ebony streaks sped directly towards her, but cursed as soon as she did it! The streak continued on, unhindered, to strike the base of the cross which held Akane. His fiancée didn't even have time to yell, before the cross suddenly resolidified. The rusted metal surfaces of the cross suddenly regained their jagged harshness, though the structure was now warped horribly out of shape, listing depressingly to the side and bent heavily under its own weight. A new addition formed as well, a metallic gag running over the blue haired girl's mouth, obviously to stop her from giving out any further advice.

The rain continued to pound the metallic cross, but only left tiny ripples which quickly smoothed out once more. Ranma would have been shocked by that, except another of the tendrils also attached itself to the Evangelion! Like the cross, the megalithic beast suddenly ceased its destruction, regaining its color and solidity. However, like the cross, the beast was now a twisted, though unfortunately still functional, mockery of its former glory.

Looking up from his handiwork, Brushogun's toothy grin only grew, a black slug of a tongue extending though his teeth to lick the running water from his face. The demon then looked up to the heavens, a considering look on his features.

"As for your friends, I suppose I'll have to deal with them first. I'd hate to begin our final battle with you under the foolish delusion that you actually have a chance to succeed. It would be cruel and unfair to you."

Quickly, the pigtailed martial artist crossed her arms tightly across her chest, suddenly struggling to gather the confidence needed to use her unique chi attack. She didn't have any idea what the demon meant, but she knew it couldn't be good. It was so hard, though. Couldn't anything stop this beast? Even standing out in the full fury of nature, the creature could not only survive, but maintain its creations as well?

Brushogun lifted a hand and playfully wagged a long talon back and forth. "Tsk, tsk, Miss Saotome. You don't want to use that tired attack again do you? People are going to start getting bored. Why don't you let me show you how to mix it up?" slurred the creature condescendingly.

"Mix this up! Mouko Takabisha!" She pushed out with all her strength once again, forcing the golden sphere of chi away from her and towards the demon. It was a little smaller than usual, but she was confident that it would still work. As confident as the demon was sounding, it must have been taking a tremendous amount of power to do everything it was doing. It had to be vulnerable!

The orb of ego given form exploded magnificently on impact! . . . except it hadn't made it even halfway to its target! Ranma stared in disbelief . . . at the six foot by six foot, steel wall that had just risen up from the ground. The metal structure was vibrating wildly, and a three foot deep dent was nearly punched all the way through it. A second later, the wall suddenly faded to black, before dropping to back to the pavement into a puddle of watered down ink.

"Wha-"

"No need for applause, my lovely little dumpling." Brushogun stood, just so that he could bow cordially to her, his arm sweeping out grandly. "Just a minor parlor trick. Now, please let me show you a real crowd pleaser."

What the hell? He could make stuff like that, too? Well, sure, she supposed if he could make actual Saiyans, how the hell hard could it be to make a freaking wall, but damn! Her shock held her immobile long enough for Brushogun to slam a hand to the earth once more.

This time, a wide streak of ink, over a foot wide, shot off in the direction of the Evangelion. She feared he was planning on reviving it completely, except the streak of ink suddenly branched in two directions before even getting halfway there, both at ninety degree angles to the original. In the blink of an eye, both lines traveled ten meters, before suddenly turning ninety degrees again, both heading in the direction of the Evangelion once more.

Was he planning on making two more? Could this demon possibly have that kind of powe-

Except, after twenty meters, both lines turned ninety degrees again, this time coming together to form a huge, twenty by twenty meter square. What the hell was he up to? Suddenly, the large box . . . changed. In a matter of seconds, the solid black line surrounding the square suddenly developed alternating yellow stripes, diagonal, and lines began at the middle of the near and far sides, shooting down the center of the large box and bisecting it into two halves.

Again, something at the back of his mind was ringing the 'Oh crap' alarm in his brain. She was about to run forward to get a better look . . .

When, against all reason, the street suddenly split open! The entire section of road surround by the black and yellow stripes opened dramatically, revealing what (from her angle) appeared to be a bottomless pit.

It was not empty for long though. It started as a quiet rumble, but soon developed into an earth quaking squeal of something very large approaching the surface very fast. The whole event had taken probably five seconds at the most, but Brushogun's intent was revealed in an eruption of motion –

As an eight story positron rifle suddenly emerged from the tunnel, resting securely on an artist's rendition of a freight elevator. Without a second's hesitation, the twisted Evangelion lifted the weapon up to its shoulder and aimed the massive device at the very heart of the storm above them.

"Hell! Thunder and Lightning!" There was no way the duo would hear her meager shout, not over the distance, or the very storm they, themselves were creating. Even at her best, she couldn't imagine any possible way to stop the giant robot from what it was about to do. Behind her, Akane's muffled cries sounded painfully; before her, Brushogun's laughter did the same. All around her, thunder, wind and rain filled her senses.

For a single second, it was all drowned out. The cannon fired with a tremendous blast of force, launching a glowing white projectile of pure energy up into the clouds. The back blast of the cannon firing washed down over the entire street. It shattered windows, cleared the streets of water and sent a certain pigtailed girl flying through the air. Her world filled with flashes of color as she felt her head hit something hard, which thankfully gave way to her thick skull.

Several, very groggy, minutes later, she dug her head out of the wall where it had been planted. She wasn't exactly sure how long she was out, but when she finally cleared the gravel out of her hair and ears, the night was eerily quiet.

Slowly, the redhead turned around. To be honest, she was somewhat surprised by what she saw. First and most obvious, was the lack of rain. That wasn't the surprising part, though, nor were the rapidly dispersing clouds. Nor was it Akane, still trapped in the mangled remains of her restraints. It was more lounger than cross, now, but still seemed to retain the strength to hold the girl in place. No, the surprising sight was the Evangelion.

Or what was left of it!

Though the deed was done, the shot fired, the metallic giant obviously wasn't as invincible as Brushogun had tried to make it out to be. From the waste up, the robot was simply gone, the entire street for at least a dozen blocks behind the monster were painted midnight black. Even from her limited ability to guess, it looked like the backlash from the improbably large rifle had literally ripped itself and the giant to pieces. As if just realizing what had happened, the legs finally toppled over, melting into an ocean of ink before they even hit the ground.

"Holy hell . . .," she muttered quietly to herself.

There was no sign of the storm brothers . . . not that she really expected to see any after such an attack. Something twisted painfully inside her and she felt something catch uncomfortably at the back of her throat. She looked up to the large, perfectly circular void in the clouds above them, exactly where Thunder and Lightning had vanished to minutes ago. Perfect blackness shone through that one, small area, surrounded by endless banks of dark gray. The circle was slowly growing, even as the clouds slowly dispersed themselves.

She felt a familiar tingle at the corner of her eyes, but ruthlessly forced herself to stop. She was a guy damnit! She wouldn't, couldn't cry . . . yet. There wasn't time for that! No time to even think about what had just happened. She forced her mind away from that, filling her entire brain with a single thought.

With feral grace, the slight predator turned to face the center of the street once more. She'd make Brushogun pay for everything he'd done, that was certain . . .

As soon as she found the guy!

He was gone! How on earth could she have lost track of an eight foot gloating psychopath? She almost leapt to the nearest roof, when she saw it. There, right where she had been looking, a small hump began to rise from the vast ocean of ink that filled the street. It was a slow process, as the demon slowly reformed himself; by the time it was finished she was standing directly before him. The glare she gave him promised only a swift and painful demise.

"I hope you had your fun, demon, cuz it's way past time that I sent you back to hell," she growled in a low voice.

Brushogun swayed slightly, betraying an instant of weakness, before catching himself and smiling suavely. "Tut, tut, dear. Don't you know that heroine is bad for you? You might as well just surrender. You're all alone now; no one can possibly save you. Why drag out your suffering? I can end it quickly for you, if you just ask," the demon's voice oozed with false compassion.

She scoffed loudly. "Feh, I'd say you're the one that should be askin for mercy, 'cept I ain't got none for ya. Like ya said, it's down to you and it's down to me, so how 'bout you and me dance?" The master martial artist fell back into her most offensive stance, preparing to lash out with everything she had. She was still pretty much in top form (barring having her head buried into a concrete wall), but she just knew that the demon had to have felt the effects of all of that exertion. Even if the damn thing wasn't hurt, there was no way that he could still be at full power after all of that!

Brushogun let out a long sigh. "Why doesn't anyone ever do anything the easy way? Very well, a dance you want, a dance you shall have. However . . . do you mind if I lead?"

And suddenly Ranma was on the defensive. Brushogun dove forward with frightening speed, scythe-like claws leading the way. The demon swung his talons with manic intensity, ripping the air asunder with his fury. Had it been any other person on the planet there (excepting aliens and bicentennial masters) they would have been reduced to so much hamburger in seconds.

This meant, for Ranma, it was almost a challenge. She ducked and weaved through the attacks with only minor difficulty, not even bothering to block the razor edged claws. After a year or two of being continually attacked by masters of the blade like Mousse and Kunou, this was hardly anything new. She let herself settle into the rhythm of the battle, slowly letting it soothe her troubled mind, even as she took full measure of her opponent's ability.

Being fully immersed in the fight cleared her mind better than a month with a shrink could. All the thoughts of anger and vengeance slowly floated away; a cool, calculating calm settling over her mind. Sure, anger could be extremely useful in a fight, if it was the other person that was angry, but it wouldn't help her.

It didn't take her long to deduce that Brushogun wasn't really a threat in the hand to hand department, as intimidating as he looked. She continued her analysis, even as she continued to duck and weave around his tactless swings. The demon was reasonably fast, perhaps slightly faster than Mousse, though perhaps slightly slower than Ryouga and much slower than herself. Conversely, Brushogun possessed no real skill, attacking like a wild animal. At this rate, barring anymore unexpected surprises, she figured she could pick the demon apart at her leisure.

So she did.

The next attack that came her way, a savage descending slash, signaled her moment to counter. She slid around the attack like water and launched a dozen powerful punches up and down Brushogun's entire torso. The force of the nearly simultaneous punches was enough to slide the slippery demon back half a dozen meters. Brushogun slid to a stop, sporting a number of deep dents in his hide, testaments to Ranma's power.

The redhead smiled grimly, even as she wiped her blackened knuckles on her pants. All it really accomplished was staining her pants and knuckles equally, but who cared, really?

The Demon Lord of Ink seemed to consider the damage that had just been done to his person for a moment. "Hmm, interesting, you are a fast little mouse, aren't you?" muttered the demon quietly. Without even a hint of effort, Brushogun's wounds all healed instantly. Not that she'd expected much else . . . yet.

"Heh. Got that right, Brushy! You sure you don't wanna do this the easy way? I heard that not many people do, you could be the first!" she spouted blithely.

This only elicited another quiet chuckle from her enemy. "Don't be so blithe about the situation, Saotome. After all, you know what they say about catching troublesome mice, don't you?"

She thought about that for a moment. "Um . . . you get a ca-, a c-, a caaa-, a c-c-c-ca . . . aw hell, you get a dog!" she barked out proudly. Take that, irrational phobia!

The demonic entity rolled its eyes in disgust, slapping a wet hand against its face. He slowly drew his hand down his face, looking at her sadly. Finally, Brushogun let out a weary sigh. "No, you mendicant, you build a better mouse trap!"

Without warning, the four flags that adorned Brushogun's back, which had been plastered to the demon's back by the heavy rain, suddenly surged to life, rising into the air behind him. Each of the arms suddenly began to spiral in on themselves, forming long tubes . . . which, in the blink on an eye formed into four separate arms! At the end of each arm, hands formed, adorned with seemingly random numbers of razor sharp talons. Five on one, seven on another and so on.

The four arms swung forward pendulously, hovering in the air like the stinging tails of scorpions. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, the forty or more claws all extended to nearly a foot in length, oozing with deadly intent . . . and ink, mostly the ink actually. Unconsciously, she took a step backwards, slightly unnerved by the sudden tripling of her opponent's armaments. Brushogun just loomed before her, apparently delighting in her trepidation.

That was really too bad, the bastard should have attacked when he had the chance.

The handful of seconds that the demon wasted drinking in her hesitation allowed inspiration to strike. With great subtlety, she took another step back, her hands slowly sliding behind her back.

"Hey! Who you callin' a mendicant?" she asked, both to buy time and because she had no idea what the word meant. It sure sounded insulting, though. Ah! There they were. She took another step back, giving her a little more distance.

The demon rolled his eyes, looking about ready to answer, when she cut him off. "Heh, ya know who I was hopin' to run into tonight, but didn't? That cat girl." Another step back, opening the gap between them again.

"Ha! Looking forward to running like a little girl? . . . oops, too late for that I suppose. The next time I'm in Hell, I'll be sure to conjure her so the two of you can talk. Now, time to die!"

Brushogun lunged forward like a storm surge, a tidal wave of deadly blades leading the way. Ranma nearly smiled as the six armed freak descended upon her, all forty three lengthy claws desiring nothing less then the sweet taste of her blood. Her grip tightened instinctually as she focused her chi forcefully into her arms. Then, in a flash of speed that put the Amaguriken, the Parlay du Foie Gras and even the White Snake Venom Reliable Fist to shame, her hands shot out, exactly forty three times.

Faster than even her own eyes could track, her arms disappeared into a blur, entangling impossibly with the six arms coming her way. For a brief second, there was a frantic back and forth between the two of them, before they both broke off their attacks and leapt back. Brushogun laughed madly as he stared at her, smiling widely.

"My, it appears as if we are evenly matched, Saotome. I think a few more arms might change that, though," boasted the cocky demon.

It was Ranma's turn to chuckle menacingly. Absently, she waved the items she held in her hands about, letting Brushogun catch a glimpse of them. "Think again, Brushy." She then pointed one of the gleaming instruments towards the demon, indicating his many hands.

Brushogun stared at her for a moment, not comprehending her comment . . .

The sound of metal raining down on the pavement rang out repeatedly, suddenly drawing the demon's gaze down to his own feet . . . To the forty three, foot long claws that now laid there; the claws persisted for only a moment before melting away into the ocean of ink at their feet. Brushogun continued to stare in shock for a moment, before raising his gaze to meet hers.

"B-but how?"

Oh, how she grinned.

"Pedicure of the Fierce Tiger, bitch!" She spun around dramatically, before dropping into a low, wide stance. As she did that, she brandished her favored weapons for the world to see: her pair of industrial sized nail clippers. She'd been saving that one for the catgirl (hey, the idea had been stuck in her head forever, how could she not use it?) but this was just as good. "Heh, how's that for 'evenly matched'? I don't think you got enough dangly bits to make enough arms to stop me!"

The Ink Demon stared at her for a moment, then slowly began to shake his head from side to side in amusement. In a matter of seconds, each and every one of the claws regrew to their full, lethal glory. "You intend to defeat me with nail clippers? I believe this is the most insulted I've ever been in my entire existence. No, Miss Saotome, I'm afraid that your epic strategy is doomed to failure. Just as you are doomed to die."

"Feh, you keep sayin that, but I'm still here, ain't I? Whatcha gonna do? You're outta minions, outta gimmicks and ya can't keep up with my speed. I hate to say it, but it looks like yer on yer last legs here, Brushy," she spouted cockily. She felt her confidence start to take a small upswing, twirling her secret weapons as she stared down her opponent. As long as the bastard couldn't make another Goku, he was pretty much finished. It was all just a matter of time.

Brushogun seemed to agree, as, without warning, his four extra arms unraveled back to their original forms. The four banners waved in the windless air, defying the laws of nature. The idea of surrender was quickly quashed, though, as the demon suddenly let out a raucous laugh. "Defeated, am I?" drawled the snickering demon. "On my last legs, bereft of followers, at the limit of my power? You truly believe that you can defeat me, don't you?"

The pigtailed girl shrugged. "Six arms, eight arms, how many arms can ya make before ya just tie yourself in a knot? So, to answer your question: um, yeah!".

Suddenly the demon slapped its hands together, wringing them together joyfully. "Excellent! I'd hoped you'd say that! Now your defeat will be all the sweeter!"

"Huh? What the heck are ya talkin bout, jerkwad? You got nuthin!" she barked irately.

Brushogun just smiled wider, the top of his head nearly falling off from the strain. Then, for some reason, the demon pointed a single finger to the ground at their feet. "Heh, heh heh. Saotome, just what exactly is it that you are standing in?" Her eyes opened wide in shock at the question. She quickly looked down . . .

To the ocean of ink that was currently submerging her feet.

"Aw, hell," she muttered quietly to herself. She then looked back up to the demon before her, shocked understanding on her fair features. The demon just nodded in answer to her unasked question.

"To quote a kindred spirit, Miss Saotome: I am Legion!"

And then all hell broke loose!

All at once, dozens of spikes, tendrils, claws and teeth rose up from the ink all around her. A second after that, her world was reduced to only the most base instinct of survival. There was no time for conscious thought, no time to plan her actions or plot her movements. Every neuron that fired was geared towards a single goal: survival! Her arms blurred, clippers flashing out to cut down as many of the narrower psuedopods as possible. Her legs burned, desperately ducking and weaving her through the jungle of death that had just sprung up around her. She dared not leap, she'd be a sitting duck in the air and the gods only knew what kind of death trap would be waiting wherever she was going to land. Her muscles stretched nearly to snapping as she bent to obscene angles to avoid whipping and grasping tendrils intent on latching onto her. She couldn't afford a single mistake.

She lashed out with her left arm, severing two tentacles and another claw. On instinct, her right leg lifted and she spun out of the way of a looping tendril that had nearly snared the limb. She bent backwards to avoid a jagged looking mass swinging through the air, just in time to block a matching one coming at her from the opposite direction. The pair of clippers in her right hand shattered dramatically under the force of the impact, several shards of metal cutting deeply into her palm.

Ranma didn't even have time to register the pain; she quickly slammed her bleeding hand into the ink, to the street below, and kicked her legs off into a backwards handstand. She regained her feet instantly and continued her desperate dodging. A dozen, two dozen, a hundred attacks flew at her, nearly simultaneously. As far as her eyes could see, her world was filled with a dense, never ending forest of ebony serpents. Except this entire forest was intent on her demise. And, unfortunately, she didn't even have a lame ass magic shield or sword to help out this time!

And somewhere, lost to her vision, Brushogun was watching, and laughing.

Her muscles began to burn with the buildup of lactic acid, ordering her body to stop moving painfully. Just like the pain in her hand, though, she ignored it, buried it in the recesses of her mind that had the time to worry about such trivial things. A long tendril wrapped around her wrist, she ripped it free, using the momentum of the swing to avoid five more deadly implements. Something fast and thin slashed up her back, but she didn't even have the energy to waste shouting in pain. She simply pushed forward, slashing and cutting through the forest by sheer willpower alone.

Where the hell was he?

She realized the mistake before she even made it, without thinking, her nail clipper vainly flashed out trying to clip one of the jagged, tooth-like growths, only to deform into uselessness at the harsh impact. Without hesitation, she dropped the piece of trash and fell into a completely defensive strategy. She continued to desperately dodge; the sensation of something wrapping around her ankle tripped a warning in her brain.

Without even knowing how she did it, her aura, bright gold, burned to life around her ankle, burning away the offending tendril. She had no idea what she was doing, but she continued doing it. Concentrating furiously, the golden aura of her fighting spirit came to surround her entire body. It burned brightly and the deadly serpents began to keep their distance, giving her several very needed seconds to catch her breath.

She eyed the hovering blades warily, even without eyes, they seemed to track her every movement perfectly. An army of predators, all just waiting for a single second of weakness. The tactical part of her brain screamed at her from the dark reaches of her mind. There was no way she could keep up such a furiously intense aura for an extended period of time. She'd burn herself out in a matter of minutes if she didn't end this battle quickly.

So where was the bastard!

She could hear him laughing . . . somewhere. The voice seemed to come from all around her, everywhere and nowhere at the same time, cold, mocking laughter. As she tried to locate the source, one of the bolder tendrils, tipped with a deadly scythe, lashed out at her, intent on her throat. She leaned hastily to the side and lashed out at the base of the blade with a knife hand, the black ink vaporized instantly, dropping the blade to the ground.

And then she was in the thick of it again. As powerful as her aura was, she knew she couldn't rely on it to completely protect her from any direct attacks. A heavy mace or an especially quick slash would certainly pierce her defenses before they were destroyed. So, her aura allowed her a lot more leeway in her movements, but it would be suicide to just stand there and take it.

That was about the last coherent thought she had for several minutes that felt like centuries.

There was only black, everywhere she looked. Black pavement, black sky, black tentacles, black blades . . . it was a wonder she could even remember which way was up and which way down. She literally danced through the forest, dodging where she could, blocking where she had to and lashing out whenever humanly possibly. It was a test of skill like none she'd faced before, speed, endurance, technique . . .

And then, just when she thought she couldn't move another muscle, when her aura began to flicker and spark weakly, she noticed it. The endless waves of attackers were thinning out! She could finally see further out than five feet, she could see the walls of the surrounding buildings, she could see flashes of her fiancée . . .

And she could see him!

He was laughing no longer. Rather, the demon was hunched over somewhat, an expression of great strain on his features. That was it! It must have been costing the demon huge amounts of energy to keep up such a harrying attack for so long! If she could just get to him before she dropped and before he could recover . . .

Hell with holding back now!

"Mouko Takabisha!"

She fired all of the meager strength she had left, straight down at her feet! The chi blast slammed into the ground and washed outwards into a golden wave of destruction. Even as the force of the explosion lifted her a dozen feet into the air, it swept over a swath of the inky tendrils a dozen feet across, blowing every single one of them to ash. It would have been an ideal place to land, really, but she'd had other plans.

She'd angled the blast carefully before dropping it, so her flight had taken her over the bulk of the remaining tentacles and towards her prey. The martial artist landed poorly, her muscles failing her completely as she landed. She slammed heavily to the pavement, splashing mightily into the ink, which thankfully cushioned her fall just a bit. A second later, she scrambled to her feet, scrabbling towards Brushogun as she did. It felt like her body was running on nothing but fumes, but Brushogun didn't look any better, wheezing heavily before her.

Though she didn't spare it a glance, she heard innumerable splashes behind her, as the forest of death collapsed in on itself. Not that it mattered, there was nothing between her and her goal now!

Ranma forced one foot in front of the other, dragging her sodden feet through the ink at her feet. She might as well have been walking through lead, for how exhausted she was, but somehow she kept going. Brushogun looked at her in wonder as she approached him. Slowly, the demon stretched back up to its full height, staring down at her menacingly as she moved towards him.

"Most impressive, Saotome. I never imagined you could have gotten this far. Truly, I've underestimated you at every turn, even here, at the very end."

She smiled grimly at the admission. Her body continued to cry for release, but her mind just kept on ignoring it. It'd all be over soon, anyway, plenty of time to rest later.

"Heh, so, not a god after all, eh, Brushogun? Guess even monsters like you got limits."

The demon nodded sagely in response. "Indeed, so it appears. I must congratulate you, you've put up a mighty struggle. I am almost at the limit of my power . . .," Brushogun's sagely expression descended into a demonic grin. "Unfortunately for you, I am only 'almost at the limit of my power', fool!"

The Saotome Heir's danger sense suddenly flared to life, she prepared to defend herself from any possible attack . . .

Except she didn't get the chance. Again, she realized her mistake just after it became too late to do anything about it. She'd fallen in the ink! She was covered from head to toe in the stuff! Suddenly, and with a force beyond comprehension, her legs slammed tightly together and her arms slapped painfully to her sides. Even her breaths came in ragged gasps as it felt like a giant was pressing a massive foot down right on her ribcage. Then, completely unable to move and lacking even the spark of chi necessary to free herself, Ranma fell back to the pavement . . .

Utterly helpless . . .

Brushogun almost couldn't believe the sight . . . Certainly, he'd claimed from the very beginning that this was how it would end, but to see it actually unfolding thus, he didn't quite know what to feel. Lying on the ground before him, helpless before his power, was the female form of Saotome. All of her allies dead or defeated, her fiancée just as helpless . . . It was – It was . . .

Somewhat unsettling . . .

The demonic entity looked around again, not even sure what it was he was looking for. Some last minute cavalry, angels from on high, the charge of the light brigade? But there was nothing, innumerable police men were holding just outside the edges of his sight, but they weren't any real concern. As weakened as he was, they knew that if they made a move he'd just kill Saotome and her fiancée, then he'd be able to vanish into the night with the ease of a shadow. If he wasn't stopped here, now, he would escape and return more powerful then they could imagine . . .

So why wasn't anyone stopping him?

N-not that he wanted to be stopped. This was all he desired, his nemesis defeated, the world trembling at his power. He could feel his captives struggle against their bonds, but it required almost no effort to hold the exhausted Saotome and the relatively weak Tendo. It wasn't like this was the end of his story . . . though it certainly felt like it. It was just the beginning, there would be many challenges to follow, Saotome was a small fish in a vast ocean, after all, not even comparable to many of the true heroes that protected this world.

So why was he hesitating?

Wait . . . what was he even supposed to do now? He'd put so much thought into this, to creating this great climax . . . but what came after he captured the hero? The demon rubbed his chin in worried consideration. Why did this all feel so wrong suddenly, like something had gone wrong, or something was missing . . . He was fairly certain that he'd formulated an exit strategy here, hadn't it flowed directly into the next stage of his plan, the conquering the world plan?

Conquering the world? That seemed like an awfully silly idea, now that he thought about it. What on earth would he do with the entire earth? Would he be like the president or something, managing the day to day minutia of an entire planet? Could one being even maintain control over an entire planet, especially if everyone was constantly rising up against him? Why would he even want to control the whole world - he hated people.

Brushogun swayed slightly, suddenly grasping his forehead. What was he doing again? Hadn't there been something important that he'd been trying to do? It seemed like a dream almost, something about a painting . . . some candles . . . Why did that feel so important? Why did that seem so familiar? How did he get sidetracked onto this entire world domination thing, anyway? It sure didn't seem like something he'd do . . .

He was so very tired; all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep. Everything was so confusing, so muddled in his mind, maybe a nice sleep would make everything better. Easing himself down easily, the artist leaned forward and placed his hands on the ground. He then began to lay himself down to the pavement; for some reason the vast sea of black ink didn't register as odd to him in the least. He was almost half way there, just a little more, then he could sleep this odd dream awa-

The movement stopped abruptly, his body hanging ponderously above the dark liquid. There was something there . . . a voice. Almost a voice, calling out to him from . . . somewhere. It didn't seem to think sleeping was a good idea. He couldn't imagine why, though, sleep seemed like a good idea. He prepared to lie down once more, but the voice came back, louder this time.

It said things to him, dark things, disturbing things. Uncertain now, he cautiously pushed himself back to his feet. It was odd, now that he thought about it. He couldn't understand a word the voice was saying, if it was even using words, but he still knew perfectly was it was telling him. He didn't like what it was saying, not one bit.

Except – except the voice was getting louder now, piercing and shrill. His hands clapped over where his ears used to be, vainly trying to block out the dark howling. He tried to block it out, but it was too loud, it came from everywhere at once, assaulting him from every possible angle. Why couldn't he stop it? He couldn't stand it, the voice was crushing him, swallowing him whol-

The Demon Lord of Ink stood once more, giggling madly to himself. What was he doing again? Ah, yes, of course, that was it!

Murdering Saotome's fiancée right before her eyes!

The time of his victory had finally arrived and he couldn't even express the pent up desire that he had to kill the annoying blue haired girl. Smiling once more, Brushogun turned to regard the bound female lying on her back (as opposed to the bound female hanging from the cross). Hmm, odd, for some reason the redhead was staring at him strangely. A look somewhere between fear and confusion painted on her delicate features.

Well, hardly time to worry about something like that. "I'd like to thank you, Saotome. You've made my victory more memorable than I possibly could have imagined. Your struggle was righteous and valiant right to the end. It's almost a shame it has to end, but they say that all good things do. Now, there's only one piece of business left to finish before I shuffle you loose from the mortal coil. Don't worry, though, won't take but a second," he explained cheerfully.

With eager swiftness, the demon turned away from the bound redhead towards his next victim, towards the bound form of Akane Tendo. He could see the terror building in the blue haired girl's eyes as he gazed at her. He licked his lips hungrily, her muffled shouts only stoking that hunger. Oh! Oh, how he'd been waiting for this moment. After a full week of being insulted and criticized by this shrill shrew, the only real question was just how long he could prolong her agony before the end.

"H-hey! What . . . are you doing?" the question was forced out of Saotome's gasping lungs.

He turned for a moment, looking at the pigtailed girl over his shoulder. He manufactured his most malicious expression for her benefit. "Don't play coy, Saotome. You know very well what I'm about to do. Don't worry though, I'm not needlessly cruel. You'll be joining her soon enough."

Instantly, he felt the strain of her struggles triple in intensity! The demon nearly wavered at the sudden ferocity in the slight female, but managed to maintain his hold on the girl. Brushogun let out a malevolent chuckle, taking another step forward; his eyes still firmly watching the struggling martial artist behind him. Saotome's face was nearly as red as her hair, her back arching all the way out of the ink (in what looked to be an extremely painful manner) as she struggled to break her ink bonds.

"Don't do it! For the love of God, don't do it!" Saotome's cry split the night, her voice cracking in helpless anguish. Somehow, the girl found the strength to roll over and flop up to kneel on her knees. Even though her arms and legs were held immobile, she used the motion of her entire body to begin hopping herself forward.

Brushogun didn't even bother responding, he lifted his arm to the heavens above. The claws of his hand extended once more, curving and splitting into horrifyingly jagged blades that promised an agonizing end. He turned to face Akane one more. The look of terror on her face had deepened greatly and tears spilled uncontrollably down her cheeks as she stared back at him.

"Brushogun!" Saotome's shout drew his attention again. Starting to get annoyed, he turned to face her once more, his guillotine hand still held high for the killing stroke. His eyes widened slightly at what he saw, though. She was still bound as tightly as ever, but the desperate and angry expression was gone, he couldn't even identify the look on her face, but it was strangely chilling. She looked up at him and he would have sworn that she was already dead.

"I can't stop you, but I swear on my soul: if you kill her, it will be the last thing that you ever do." The words were delivered with a chilling finality that went against everything that Brushogun knew of the spirited martial artist. Brushogun stared in wonder for a moment, before shaking off the odd feeling.

"I appreciate your composure. The heroine should never meet their end blubbering like a child. It would be positively embarrassing. Heh, let's see just how long you can maintain that icy demeanor! Watch, helpless, and let me hear you beg!"

He turned back one final time, glaring hatefully at the crucified daughter of the Tendo clan. He raised his bladed hand higher in the air.

"No – No!"

He drank in the frantic cries.

"Please! . . . P-please don't!" Saotome's voice cracked painfully, he could hear the suffering in her voice clearly now. This moment just couldn't be any more perfect! But he'd dawdled enough, it was time to end it. With blinding speed, he lashed out-

"I love her!"

Brushogun narrowed his eyes to avoid the spray of gore . . .

Except it never came. He stared in confusion at what he saw . . . the tips of his claws were resting, perfectly still, several inches away from Tendo Akane's pale trachea. W-why wasn't she dead? He tried to push the blades forward . . . but they would not move! What was going on? He tried again, bringing all of his will to bear on slitting the girl's throat. His hand began to shake from the strain, but still, he couldn't move!

'He loves her.'

Huh? That voice, where had it come from? It sounded familiar, he could have sworn he recognized it . . . from somewhere.

'We loved someone as well, more than life itself.'

Still paralyzed, the demon couldn't even whip his head around to look for the source of the voice! What was it talking about? He was a demon! He didn't love, was utterly incapable of it. His entire existence was to bring pain and suffering and death to everyone around him.

'That's how all of this got started. Don't you remember?'

The Ink Demon fell back, clutching his head. It felt like his skull was trying to burst open! What did it mean, remember what? An image flashed through its mind, faster than it could comprehend. A painting – it had been a painting . . . A painting of a woman. Other details began to fall into place: a ceremony, candles, an all consuming blackness. And something else . . .

Something that wasn't an image, or an object, or anything that he could touch at all. It was a feeling, it swelled up in his chest when the image of the woman had crossed his mind. But what did it mean? What was this agonizing pain that wanted to tear his chest open for the world to see?

'This isn't what we wanted, all we wanted . . . was her . . .'

"Shut up, shut up, shut upHe slammed a hand across his head, trying to drum out the voice. This is what he wanted! Death and destruction, the world cowering in fear, it was everything that he existed for! He couldn't be swayed at the last minute. "No! The woman dies, now!"

"The hell she does!"

Brushogun's internal struggle was quelled instantly by the shout. Almost on instinct, he turned to face Saotome . . . only to see that the redheaded female was still bound tightly, kneeling in the center of the street. However, this time a wry smirk was plastered across the ink stained girl's face. Saotome just shook her head, her smirk growing into a full blown grin. She gestured to something behind Brushogun with a nod of her chin. "Wrong way, Brushy."

What! Brushogun turned to see what she was talking about . . .

Just in time to watch Lieutenant Uehara Daizo leap madly from the second story window above him! The officer's trench coat flared out like a pair of brown leather batwings as the old man plummeted through the air; the man's matching fedora flying right off his head. Brushogun's eyes widened in shock and incomprehension. He was still alive?

Just before the officer hit the ground and broke every bone in his body, his fall jerked to a stop about a foot above the pavement. It had been stopped by the long white hose that was wrapped around the Lieutenant's left arm and disappeared back into the window he'd just jumped out of. In a flash, he disentangled his arm from the hose and clamped his left hand over the bright red piece of metal that was firmly grasped in his right hand -

The bright red nozzle of the hotel's emergency fire hose!

"Welcome to the twentieth century, you anachronistic son of a bitch!"

"Say hello to indoor plumbing!"

Saotome Ranma nearly exploded with laughter at the sight of old man Uehara diving out the second story window of the hotel. Damn, but that old man was crazy! Before the damned ink demon even had a chance to react, the officer fired off a crude remark, then blasted Brushogun point blank with the fire hose.

The high pressure stream of water slammed into the demon's chest with enough force to knock the bastard head over heels to crash bodily to the ground. Ink and paper went flying in huge gouts in every direction as the fire hose tore the demon apart. This time, Brushogun's howls of pain were every bit reality.

"M-mercy!"

At the unexpected cry, the cop cut off the brutal attack. The spray of water ended to reveal the much diminished form of Brushogun, half kneeling, half groveling, with a hand held out before him to staunch the powerful stream of water. The demon was no longer the eight foot giant that had loomed over them, now he was simply a man wrapped in grayish blackish paper. He looked actually a bit like a sad, sad version of one of those mummies he'd heard so much about. Rather surprising, though, was the arm which was held out to protect the demon . . . the paper had been torn away to reveal that flesh and blood still existed beneath it, the shreds of paper hanging limply around his elbow.

Uehara smirked wildly at the sight. "Mercy is the mark of a great man, so they say."

Without warning, the old man turned on the fire hose again, battering the reeling demon back to the ground. The assault lasted for a few gratifying seconds, before the Lieutenant shut if off again. This time, it revealed a half naked man, wrapped loosely with a number of deteriorating strips of ink stained paper. One of the demon's white, empty eyes was gone completely, a pale blue eye blinked rapidly, unable to deal with even the pale light of the night.

Daizo's smirk widened into a grin. "Guess that makes me just a good man."

Brushogun let out a gasp, slowly trying to push himself back up to his hands and knees – Only to be knocked down again when Daizo suddenly cut loose on him again with the hose! This time the spray of water pummeled Brushogun until not a drop of black water filled the pavement around him for several yards. Finally, after a seeming eternity, Daizo cut off the hose again. All that remained of Brushogun was the unconscious form of an old man, withered with age and covered with bruises.

Ranma stared at the Lieutenant in shock, even as her bonds dissolved into nothing. As she slowly rose to her feet, gingerly rubbing her sore limbs, she continued to gaze at the old cop.

The Lieutenant looked back at her, still smiling, he dropped the hose then simply shrugged.

"Meh, I'm alright."

Almost immediately, at the sight of their commanding officer taking down the demon, uniformed officers began pouring out of doorways and alleys from every imaginable angle. Without any need for direction, the men immediately set about securing the unconscious form of the unconscious ink demon. Of course, Ranma ignored them completely, still laughing from the sheer insanity that was the Lieutenant.

Ranma's bark of laughter doubled, when without warning, Akane practically tackle hugged the old officer. Her fiancée planted an affectionate kiss on the old man's cheek as she continued to squeeze the life out of him. The pigtailed girl just shook her head in amusement and moved forward to join them.

"You saved me! You saved me! Heh, who would have imagined, out of everyone here, that it would be you to save the day?" exclaimed the exasperated Tendo breathlessly.

The redheaded martial artist snickered loudly at the look on the cop's face at that comment. "Heh heh heh, yeah, good job, old man. Looks like you really saved the day. Of course, I did all the real work, but I'm man enough to admit that even someone as great as me needs a little help sometimes."

"Ha! You sure coulda fooled me, Ranko," replied the smirking officer. The old man then shook his own head in amusement. "Still, hero or not, saving the day or not, all I know is this: there's no way in hell that I'm filling out the paperwork on the mess that you damn kids made of my city! C'mon, let's get out of here and find your little buddies. If we're lucky, we can get out of here fast enough that they'll have to stick someone else with filing the report."

That said, the Lieutenant disentangled himself from the giggling Akane and started angrily stomping through the gathering crowd in a seemingly random direction. Ranma chuckled to herself, the old man obviously had no idea where their friends were. Hmm, it sure felt like she was forgetting something, something really important too. Damn fight, she was so mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted, she could barely even stand.

Luckily, she didn't have to. Akane sidled up beside her, offering her a warm, comfortable shoulder to lean on. Her fiancée gazed at her warmly as she helped her to walk. "Do you still think that you aren't cut out for this hero stuff, Ranma?" she asked teasingly.

Still not able to remember whatever it was that was slipping her mind, she just shrugged it away for later. "Heh, if I ever gotta go through somethin' like that again . . . hell, I can't even think of anything funny to say to go with that . . ."

Akane shook her head, smiling sweetly. After a few more steps, the smile changed slightly, melting into what could only be described as a sly smile. "Soooo, about what you said back there . . .," she asked leadingly.

Instantly, Ranma found a hidden reserve of strength to walk on her own. Without even looking back, for fear of Akane seeing her burning red cheeks, Ranma power walked to catch up to the aimlessly stalking officer ahead of them. She bravely ignored Akane's annoyed calling of her name and fell into step beside the old man, making an effort out of not looking at anyone.

"Hey, Lieutenant. I ain't exactly an expert . . . but aren't we living in the twenty first century now?"

"Oh, Shut up!"