Dark Titans - Arc 4 - Titan Rising

Prologue

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

Ranma twisted over on to his side, then wriggled his elbows under him in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position to lie down in. Finally satisfied that he was good for another few minutes, he returned his attention to the familiar yellow communicator sitting, propped up, on the floor beside his futon. It took him another few seconds to tune out the sounds of heavy construction coming from the Dojo again, but then he'd had a few days to get used to that since their new guest had arrived.

". . . been three days since anyone has seen him. I'm beginning to get worried," stated a concerned looking Raven from a continent away.

Ranma let out a weak sigh.

"Look, Raven, ya really gotta get over this. I mean, I've known the guy for years and he's been pulling this stuff the entire time."

One of Raven's eyebrows arched up cutely, "Well, then what do you usually do when he gets misplaced?"

He considered his words carefully . . .

"Rejoice?"

"Saotome Ranma!"

The pigtailed warrior chuckled at the absolutely priceless look on the lovely young woman's face.

"Heh, heh, sorry-sorry. Honestly, though, and this is me speaking as Ryouga's best-"

"Friend?" she interjected sneakily.

"Rival! Sheesh, yer worse than Kasumi!"

Raven actually scoffed at that notion. "There is no way that I am anything like her."

Ranma stared at her oddly for a moment, before shrugging off the odd response. "Whatever. What I'm sayin is: Ryouga gets lost. It's what he does, so you better get used to it. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if P-Chan was wanderin around my backyard this minute."

His companion's intoxicatingly deep violet eyes rolled in annoyance. "Be serious, Ranma. He's only been missing for three days. He's likely still in the city, we just have no way to locate him."

Ranma stared at the Titan incredulously. "Oh, it's only been three days. Right, what was I thinking? He's probably only made it to Greece by now." He tilted his head to the side in contemplation. "Which is probably for the best. I don't think Ryouga would wanna be here considering the mood Akane has been in the past few days."

Raven's eyebrow quirked up again. "Really? Whatever for? I thought she was quite happy having Natsume and Kurumi living there."

"Ha!" he barked, "You should know! After all, it's your fault."

A mixture of shock, confusion and worry suddenly spilled out onto Raven's face.

"What? My fault? Was it something I did?"

Ranma nodded seriously. "It sure was! Ya remember that 'Walking on Eggshells' technique you were telling me about?"

And, just like that, all of the anxiety drained from her face. It revealed an annoyed glare which just screamed, 'What did you do?'

"It is not a technique, it is an expression," she stated flatly.

He waved her off. "Yeah, well, whatever. Anyway, I finally got some free time, so I decided to give it a try!"

Raven let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Somehow, I can see where this is going."

Ranma nodded excitedly, "And how! Man, when she saw the mess I'd made in the Dojo, she uppercutted me halfway to Shinjuku! . . . I actually got a lot of extra paperwork done thanks to her . . ."

Raven let out a groan of disgust, but then started suddenly. "Wait a moment. She actually hit you over something as trivial as that?"

Uh-oh! He didn't like the tone in her voice, or the look on her face . . .

Proceed backpedaling procedures!

"Um, yeah, but, ya know, it ain't no big deal. I mean, she didn't even use her mallet or nuthin!"

His frantic backpedaling didn't garner the results he'd hoped for.

"Are you saying it's not unusual for her to hit you with a mallet?" The scandalized tone in Raven's voice made him think that she found the idea to be quite serious, and couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why!

He waved his hands frantically in a warding gesture. "It ain't like that! I mean, I kinda egged her on a bit . . ."

For some reason, Raven grimaced, looking very much like she was in pain. . . . Did she stub her toe? Maybe she was having cramps? Should he ask her if it was that time of the month? Yeah, that'd be a good way to change the subject-

"What could you have possibly done to warrant such abuse?"

Damn! She was too quick for him!

He resorted to shrugging sheepishly. "Well, I kinda . . . might have . . . told her that I'd saved her the trouble of making breakfast, since the eggs I'd stepped all over couldn't taste any worse than anything else she'd ever cooked . . ."

Raven just stared at him. As the lull stretched on, he considered asking her about her cramps again, when-

". . . You are unbelievable . . . Still, it isn't right for her to resort to such brutal violence to communicate her displeasure with you."

He shot an incredulous look right back at her.

"B-but, Raven! Everyone in Nerima is an emotionally crippled martial artist. If we didn't have violence, then how the heck would we communicate?"

Again, her eyebrow quirked up, it was so endearing, as she looked at him, apparently trying to discern if he was actually being serious or not.

"Have you ever tried talking?

"Well . . .yeah, but it usually just results in more violence."

She stared at him uncertainly, "I have a hard time believing that, I mean, Ryouga-"

"Is the worst offender I know!" he interrupted sharply, "If he didn't get lost all over the place, I'm pretty sure the only language he'd know is 'PunchRanmaintheface-ese'."

His companion shook her head slowly, her violet locks swaying like a curtain of silk from the gentle movement. Unfortunately, it didn't look like she was getting ready to drop the subject.

"Ranma," she began, starting to sound very much like his Guidance Councilor, "Violence is not the answer to everything. I can't imagine actually forming a healthy relationship based on such a destructive cycle of abu. . ."

Ranma let out a sigh, dropping down flat onto his futon as Raven launched into her lecture. It sounded like he was going to be there for quite a while, too. Man, for a girl that so steadfastly refused to talk about her own, numerous, problems, she sure didn't have any trouble talking about his problems . . . at great length . . .

He'd still listen to every word, though.

It was pretty doubtful that he'd be able to convince her that inducing bodily harm was just the status quo, though. If there was anything he was sure of, it was that his wit wasn't up to the task of winning any kind of debate with the quick-witted female. Heck, he'd sent his own dad into orbit a few times, him and Ryouga fought at the drop of a hat (literally, that one time. How the heck was he supposed to know that it had been a souvenir for Akane?) and Shampoo constantly landed her bike on his head as a sign of affection . . . All pretty normal stuff in his book.

As Raven moved on from lecturing to making insane suggestions, like, possibly, couples therapy (him and Akane were so not a couple!), he kinda started to tune her out. Sheesh, him and Akane actually talking about their problems in front of a complete stranger? He doubted he'd survive that.

'Man,' he thought to himself glumly . . .

'There's no way that Ryouga is worse off than me right now . . .'

All across the verdant, green countryside, the joyous preparations for the coming celebration were underway. The frantic, yet excited expressions on the faces of her people brought a smile to her own face as well.

Yes, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, loved the Festival of the Five.

The statuesque ruler turned to the raven haired beauty at her side. The younger woman looked half ready to run off into the frenzy herself, but was kind enough to spare a few minutes of time with her.

"I am glad that you were able to join us on this festive night, Diana."

Her daughter tore her eyes from her many sisters and returned her gaze.

"It's the Festival of the Five, Mother. I wouldn't miss it for all the world. My only regret is that so many of my comrades were called out into deep space. With so few of us remaining in the Watch Tower, I'm afraid I'll have to return first thing in the morning."

Hippolyta nodded, hiding her disappointment. It wasn't too hard to do; even with her daughter's imminent departure, it was still a wonderful gathering and seeing so many Amazons so happy filled her heart with joy.

"It seems that Donna is quite excited to be organizing the Hunt." She pointed to the distant girl conversing with a group of toga-clad and spear wielding warriors.

Diana chuckled lightly, then pointed to another equally young, though very different young woman.

"Far more excited than young Cassandra. I fear she doesn't appreciate how important the Harvest is in honoring Demeter."

Even from the distance, their keen eyes could make out the grimace on the face of the golden haired girl. Armed with only a sickle, a basket, and several dozen of her sisters, the young Amazon hunched back down into the ocean of wheat and continued to reap what she had sown.

Hippolyta laughed happily at the sight.

"Well, if she possessed even a shred of talent for cooking, she could have assisted in preparing the Feast. Instead, that honor falls to you, daughter; a sacred honor, on this most sacred of days."

Diana rolled her eyes, looking slightly petulant; quite an amusing sight to the Queen. "I still don't see why I didn't get to go on the hunt . . ."

"Now, now, you've already-"

"Uh-uh-um."

The polite cough interrupted their conversation quite unexpectedly. Both the Queen and her daughter turned to see who had such pressing business that they felt the need to interrupt their Queen in mid speech . . .

Only to stare in wide eyed shock at the young man that stood before them!

The boy, looking of Asian descent, wore faded and worn clothing, a spotted head bandage and had a sleek, black umbrella strapped to his back as most would wear a sword. Most prominent, though, was the large map in the boy's hands . . . of Afghanistan . . . printed in Russian . . . and upside down.

After a moment of their silent gaze, the boy lowered his map and let out a weak chuckle.

"Heh . . . um, please excuse me, but do either of you know how to get to the Tendo Dojo . . . or Jump City . . . ? Whichever is closer, really."

Still too stunned to speak, they only continued to stare at the intruder.

"No, eh?" The young man began to look all around, possibly looking for someone else to ask. Suddenly, a look of surprise lighted on his face and he turned back to them. "Wow, there sure are a lot of women here . . ."

"You guys aren't related to the Chinese Amazons, are you?"

Ryouga ran like he'd never run before. He ducked around trees, leapt boulders and soared over streams in his frantic flight. All around him, arrows and spears rained down; most of the projectiles landed harmlessly in the ground, but a few he was forced to deflect with his new umbrella.

The Lost Boy took a quick peek over his shoulder . . .

To see the entire Amazon Nation descending down upon him!

It was an odd sight, so see a literal army of such unbelievably gorgeous, not to mention jiggly, women swarming across the countryside in pursuit of him. His first thought was predictable:

'Man, this is so awesome!"

His second, and more rational thought was:

'Wait a second, this sucks! This must be how Ranma feels most of the time!'

For the first time ever, Hibiki Ryouga felt just a twinge of sympathy for his eternal rival.

Again, he turned around and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"I said I was sorry! I didn't even know I stepped on their Mascara!"

And, again, his pleas were ignored.

'That's it! I'm telling Happosai about this place the next time I see him!'

Unfortunately, it was right about then that he realized, thanks in no small part to his complete inability to pay attention to where he was going . . .

That he'd run straight off a cliff about three steps ago . . .

As the women vanished behind him and the ocean loomed hungrily below him, he let out a resigned sigh.

"No one's existence could possibly be worse tha-"

The rest of his profound statement was drowned out by a tremendous splash.

Darkness . . . everything was darkness, a soul numbing, mind rending blackness that buried its claws deep into one's heart . . . He sat, hunched over, clothed in naught but the silken darkness, could feel it clinging to his skin. Even the air itself lent itself to the illusion of complete nothingness; the temperature was so constant, it was like floating in a void, a purgatory. Even the damp stone beneath him was the same, uniform temperature, it might as well not even have been there . . .

Only the sounds reminded him that he was, in fact, not alone. Always the same sounds, a maddening hum at the back of his mind, now. Countless voices mumbling and droning on to themselves, the near silent whispers of feet slipping across the ground, the distant splashes of bodies leaving and entering the water . . .

All punctuated by the agonized screams of the dying.

Those foolish, weak, pathetic spawn that were too stupid to stay quiet, or just unfortunate enough for some larger prisoner to stumble over them. It was always the same, that same, hectic beat that played to all battles: A wild crescendo of screams . . . fading to nothing.

Nothing but the sounds of the victors enjoying their spoils. Those sounds usually lasted for quite some time, but were easier to tune out. It had all been going on for so long that the brutality had lost any real meaning. Now, now it was just existence . . .

A twitch.

Something . . . something had changed. He could feel it, so keenly after so much time of feeling nothing at all. It was small, infinitesimal, but he could feel it like the Gulf Stream flowing over his sensation deprived nerves.

He felt . . . warmth . . . and it was increasing.

He tried to determine the direction the strange sensory input was coming from, but it was revealed soon enough. In a sudden flurry of movement, a surge of activity which hadn't been seen for months, he could hear literally dozens of bodies flinging themselves from the water filled caves that led away from the cavern, throwing themselves onto the slick stone floor.

Moments later, his ears were treated to the impossible sound of boiling water! Millions of gallons of water, water which filled the bulk of the entire cavern system, except for the few air pockets which they now called home, was actually boiling!

Suddenly the entire cavern shook, a distant explosion roaring to life! A second after that, he howled in pain as scalding hot water was blasted out of the caves and up into the air pocket by the force of the blast. For several minutes, roars of rage and whimpers of pain filled the air, as beings which had known nothing, but the sweet embrace of nothingness and death for so long, suddenly were reintroduced to the startling concept of pain . . .

And then he smelt it . . . fresh water, not that saltless swill, but cool, oxygenated water. After months of slowly stagnating water, he could almost taste it in his gills, even from yards away! On instinct alone, he half staggered, half lopped towards the source and dove into the submerged cave that had once led to freedom.

He followed the cave, swam until his tired and atrophied muscles burned, but soon, frightfully soon, he knew he was there.

For the first time in months, he opened his eyes. Pale, white orbs opened, seeing light for the first time that his shattered mind could remember, true light, sun light. Behind him, another pair of eyes opened, and another, and another, and another . . .

Though they were all very different beings now, they all shared the exact same thought at that most beautiful of moments . . .

". . . Perfect. . ."