Eldritch Asylum

by obsidian-fox

Crossover: Harry Potter, Lovecraft Shadows in London run deeper than they ever did in Nerima. Ranma begins an epic tale of good, evil, and the vast twilight between them. Summary inside. DEAD

6. Dust

Eldritch Asylum

obsidian-fox and Xylix

We'd like to thank Vorpal for performing a beta read and error correction.

Started: May 14, 2005

Last Update: August 31, 2005

Disclaimer: Many characters used in this story were not originally conceived by the author. Ranma ½, Harry Potter, and various other works of literature and art are used. This work is not for commercial use. I appeal to Copyright Fair Use in keeping this work legal; as such, I consider it fair use for you (whoever you are) to use any original characters or settings in derived works, should you choose to write one.

Eldritch Asylum may be archived.

Last Chapter: Ranma finally receives an invitation to Hogwarts. She visits Diagon Alley. There, Ranma finally learns of Hermione's rather unusual extracurricular activities: saving Hogwarts from the yearly threat and removing incompetent DADA teachers. Hermione extorts Ranma to keep this story from her parents, along with the Sirius Black fiasco, using threat of cat. Ranma purchases school supplies, including a nice robe. She also purchases gifts for Kathryn and Audrey. While seeking a gift for Hermione, Ranma meets and abuses both Harry and his pocketbook.

Harry receives his first impression of Ranma: Hermione was right. Ranma, at age eleven, really is an obnoxious, arrogant little brat. And she's scary, and possibly a little insane... but she's cute. Browbeaten by Ranma, Harry gives Hermione a kiss on the cheek, and he is promptly left in the dust of her departure.

Ranma is no butterfly, but chaos theory does apply. Divergence events from Harry Potter canon: Hermione purchases an owl, Awelon, instead of the cat, Crookshanks. Harry finally checks his accounts and learns that he is a millionaire (in Galleons). Harry kisses Hermione on the cheek (under duress).

Last Chapter Credits to: Culture Beat (Mr. Vain)

Author Note: Some answers to some common questions I've been hearing:

(mild) SPOILER WARNING!

Q: "Will Ranma's memory be recovered?"

A: Yes – currently by drams in dreams, but quickly via catalyst after two more years.

Q: "Why did you make Ranma amnesic?"

A: It's a useful, if cliché, plot device. Under most circumstances, canon-Ranma would never stay longer than it takes to get an aging potion and a magical thermos.

Q: "What about personality? Ranma seems a little out-of-character."

A: Ranma has an altered character, which should be distinguished from being out-of-character. Out-of-character is the result of poor writing or parody. Altered character is the natural result of change.

Ranma was quite insane during the two years in the asylum, but began recovering after receiving an amulet from Gosunkugi. The recovery was rapid, just taking several months to reach clinically sane – unfortunately almost two months after leaving the asylum. The prologue through chapter three display this change in stages, and you see the first emergence of Ranma's core personality. The insanity hasn't left Ranma entirely unscarred, but the effects are subtle and deep.

Two years of tender loving care later, Ranma's core personality has recovered a great deal, including that playfulness, arrogance, attention seeking, and a well deserved confidence that arises from ability to pound almost anything into submission. However, Ranma's personality is tempered by these years of experience, by living as a child again, by having consistent friendship, and by a want of rivals in any physical arena. Ranma is shaped by friends that value camaraderie over competition, a family that favors brains above brawn, and a top class girls school that promotes individual excellence over conformity and critical thinking over blind obedience. And, in any person, behaviors are shaped by skills; Ranma has obtained skill with words: skill in English that surpasses Ranma's skill in Japanese, and the skill to fight with words in lieu of fists. You begin to see these changes as of chapter four.

Ranma's personality and behavior will continue to develop – a few of the more obvious influences include magical training, puberty, and the eventual recovery of memory.

Q: "Is Ranma stuck as a female?"

A: No. Why am I still getting this question? This should be obvious by now.

Q: "But why is Ranma a female? I don't like Ranma-as-a-female-fics!"

A: Think of Ranma as Ranma, not Ranma-la-femme. Ranma, at age nine, was unconcerned about gender. At age eleven, Ranma feels the same. Ranma's current gender is not an important aspect of this fiction. Ranma doesn't play with dolls. Ranma doesn't giggle, titter, or squeal. Ranma's not much for crying at sappy movies. Ranma's main interests are fighting, food, family, and friends.

I have many motivations for casting Ranma as a female for the first few years of this fiction. Some are symbolic; Ranma grows up twice – once as a warrior and once as a witch, once as a boy and once as a girl. Some are related to character development; being raised as a girl significantly mollifies Ranma's male chauvinism and machismo – traits I dislike in Ranma but am unwilling to pretend never existed. However, the most important reasons are simply practical – it is easier to keep the Jusenkyo magic a secret as a girl; cold water is far more common than hot water. This is important because the consequences of the magic's exhibition are profoundly negative... especially when Ranma was fresh out of the asylum, not entirely sane, lacking any skills for non-violent conflict resolution, and among children that would brand Ranma as a freak. The legal, social, and emotional fallout from that powder-keg would bury the plot.

Q: "Will Ranma match-up with a girl? I don't like Ranma/male match-ups!"

A: No match-ups or (romantic or sexual relation)ships are planned for Ranma. Period. I've said it before: I don't push ships – it's undignified. However, if it turns out there is a lot of chemistry between characters, and circumstances allow, and the romance or sex can be used to enhance the drama or push the plot, then we'll see what develops from there.

While I cannot assert that Ranma will never be romantically interested in a male, I can assure you that Ranma's sexual preference tends towards females. Due to socialization, Ranma is unlikely to be disgusted at the idea of a romantic relationship with a boy (as canon-Ranma would be), but Ranma is also unlikely to be sexually attracted to a boy. Thus, any Ranma/male relationship is unlikely to advance past platonic pecks and dinner dates (at the boy's expense, of course).

In any case, the whole match-up issue isn't an issue for a long while. Although twenty-two by birth, Ranma is only eleven physically, and despite Ranma's female form following a girl's schedule for puberty, Ranma's mind and male body both follow a boy's schedule. Ranma simply isn't interested in sex or romance yet. That hormone-induced madness we all know and hate waits until ages thirteen to fifteen. Thus, any ship is going to wait at harbor for at least another story-year or three, unless it's just a friendship.

Q: "Will this be a Harry/Hermione match-up?"

A: I don't know. I won't deny the possibility; divergence allows for non-canonical relationships. In the short term, however, the answer is definitely no. Harry isn't even interested in girls yet; he just starts noticing them during the coming year. As for later, well, Harry has a canonical history of interest in attractive, athletic Asian girls and vivacious redheads. (- grin -)

Hopefully you will enjoy the story enough that any particular match-up (or its breakup, or absence) won't derail you from reading. For now, just read, enjoy, and keep in mind that this story is not a romance and that the characters in question are still children.

Q: (Comment)"A bobby on the beat doesn't carry in London."

A: Consider it an alterverse quirk. In London's long history, the number of cops authorized to carry firearms is strongly correlated with the number of years since the last officers were murdered. Things go bump in the night in my world, and the gun-toting criminal underworld is a problem. Cops are murdered every year. As a result, standing firearms authority exists for routine patrols in a number of problematic areas, especially at night, much like patrols in Nottingham today. Further, much more than seven percent of the London Metropolitan Police force is trained and authorized to carry when a firearms authority exists.

Thanks for the comment, though. While I have integrated this particular factoid, I was originally ignorant of said policy. Any corrections on British culture issues are very welcome – especially small things that are easy to fix like nine-nine-nine vs. nine-one-one, and solicitors vs. barristers vs. lawyers. (I've pretty much given up on bloody British English... excepting a few characters for whom I'll vainly attempt to handle it.)

Q: "Will the Nerima cast be getting involved?"

A: Yes. Ryouga appears in Fall 1993, and irregularly from then on. The Tendos and Amazons visit sometime between Fall 1994 and Spring 1995. Happosai havocs Hogwarts in Fall 1995 – the era of Umbridge. Nodoka flies to London in 1996. I'm unwilling to reveal more at the moment. Not all of the Nerima cast get involved in the story in equal degrees, but many of them do get involved. Some even become regular or important players in the plot.

Q: "Uh... just how many more chapters before Ranma reaches Hogwarts?"

A: By current plans, Ranma boards the Hogwarts Express in Chapter Seven.

Q: "Is this fiction dark or comedy?"

A: Yes.

Okay... enough silly questions.

Chapter Five: Dust

Someday man's best laid plans

will lie twisted and covered in rust.

We've done all we can,

but it slipped through our hands.

It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

– Steve Earle, Ashes to Ashes (1955-)

August 1993

-oOo-

"Wow. These robes really do feel nice," Audrey says softly, curled up on the couch with Ranma's robes, allowing the inner lining to slide silky smooth against her skin. As always, she has a book in her hand, but this time it is Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander.

Kathryn sits on the floor, teasing the Monster Book of Monsters. It tugs violently at the rag in her hand, and she playfully tugs back. "Tell me about getting attacked by that giant, Lavender, again!" she requests.

"She wasn't big; I was small," Ranma corrects.

"You shouldn't tease Lavender like that," Hermione chastises. "I have to live with her, you know... and I'm sure that, somehow, it was all your fault."

Ranma stares at her sister. "She did over two-thousand Galleons in irreparable damage, 'neesan," she reminds her. "I didn't tell her to do it."

Kathryn squeals as the Monster Book of Monsters releases the rag. She promptly slaps the book to the ground with a hand, casually turns it around, then tosses the ratty cloth towards Hermione, who immediately leaps into the nearest chair. The monster moves with as much speed as it can muster, scrambling inefficiently across the carpeted floor. In a final semi-stumble, semi-leap it snags the rag before it lands. The monster, gnawing voraciously, scampers back towards Kathryn, who once again begins a tiny tug-o'-war.

"Bind that evil book back up!" Hermione commands from her recliner, keeping her feet well off the floor.

Neither Kathryn nor Ranma heed her demand. Audrey merely turns the page and begins reading about yet another fantastic beast.

It has been a few hours since Ranma's visit to Diagon Alley. The nasty, gray drizzle has broken, and the setting summer sun shines low in the sky – rays rebounding from scattered clouds in a myriad of yellows, oranges, and violets, brightly illuminating an airy room littered with a cauldron, trunk, books, and potion supplies. The television flickers in the corner, reporting a reward for tips on a scraggly, armed-and-dangerous man they identify as Sirius Black. Awelon hoots distressedly from the kitchen, unused to his new confines, and unable to get help from Hermione... who is staring, wide-eyed, terrified, at her book.

"I wanted one of those, too," Ranma complains, gazing enviously at the same book.

"As what? A pet?" Hermione asks.

Ranma nods. "I'd teach it to hunt slitted-eyed, pointy-eared, evil creatures. I hear Hogwarts is infested with them."

Hermione scowls. "Then I'm so sorry I didn't hear your request."

"Speaking of bad hearing, did you notice that your boyfriend thanked you for the Broomstick Servicing Kit?"

Hermione folds her arms in front of her chest. "I don't know how you got that silly idea in your head, but Harry is not my boyfriend," she says with finality.

"Really?" Ranma drawls. "Harry didn't deny it."

Hermione glowers. "You probably didn't give him a chance. Heck, knowing you, you probably didn't even bring it up," she accuses. "That would make it very difficult for him to deny it."

"I'm hurt that you'd accuse me of such things," Ranma feigns, a hand spread across her heart. "I'll have you know that I did, as you say, bring it up. Besides, him being your boyfriend does explain what happened in the bookstore."

Hermione's face flushes beet-red. "It wasn't like that!"

"Yes it was. You hugged him, he hugged you, and then he kissed you!" Ranma declares.

"Harry is not my boyfriend!"

"L-O-V-E!"

"I am not!"

"Then why do you sign all your letters -" Ranma clasps her hands together under her chin and breathes, "- Love, Hermione."

"You've been reading my letters?" Hermione growls. "You little sneak!" She stumbles out of the recliner and lunges at her sister.

"Well, I had to find something to entertain me while we were confined to that hotel in France," Ranma laughs, dancing away.

"Go, Hermione! In the name of love and justice!" Kathryn cheers.

"Like you're one to talk, Miss I-open-any-letter-I-get-my-hands-on," Audrey scoffs.

"This is different! This is about true- OWWww!" Kathryn exclaims. The Monster Book of Monsters has latched onto her hand. It gnaws, gnashes, grips and growls as Kathryn attempts unsuccessfully to shake it off. "Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!"

Ranma dashes over, quickly followed by Hermione and Audrey. After prying the book from Kathryn's hand, Ranma wordlessly examines Kathryn's fingers.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asks, concerned. She pauses a moment to turn off the television.

Kathryn nods, although her pain-contorted face and tears in her eyes say otherwise. When Ranma releases her wrist, Kathryn immediately sticks her sore fingers in her mouth. She sinks into Audrey's waiting arms, allowing herself to be rocked and comforted by the smaller girl.

"No bones are broken," Ranma says clinically. "You'll get better. But there will probably be some bruising." She glances at the Monster Book of Monsters, which struggles vainly to escape her grip, and scowls at it. "It's a good thing for you that you don't have any teeth left."

"Or what?" Hermione asks. "You'd destroy my book?"

Ranma doesn't answer, choosing instead to bind the book with a belt.

"... Or maybe you could just kill it?" Hermione adds hopefully. "I mean, as long as it's still readable..."

Ranma grins wryly and tosses the belt-bound book on the table. "Maybe I could, 'neesan, but I find it amusing to watch you flee from a book."

Hermione glowers, then her face slowly widens into maniacal grin. "You know, there was an absolutely gorgeous ginger cat at the Magical Menagerie..."

"You promised-"

"Oh, of course I promised not to buy a cat," Hermione says knowingly. "That doesn't mean I can't talk about cats, does it? ... or babysit them? ... or adopt one for free? Hmm. I wonder if anyone rents or leases cats."

Ranma glowers at her sister, who smirks in return.

After the staring contest continues several seconds, Ranma gains an enigmatic smile. "Fine. Be that way, 'neesan. But you won't be getting any gifts from me today."

Hermione loses her smirk.

"Gifts? Gifts? What did you get us?" Kathryn asks enthusiastically, momentarily forgetting her pain.

"You didn't get them anything magical, I hope," Hermione says dryly. "That would be a violation of the Statute of Secrecy AND the Muggle Protection Act."

"They already know about witches, and I didn't get anything that might hurt them," answers Ranma, rummaging around in her pocket.

"That's irrelevant to the law," Hermione snaps. "Besides, there's a huge difference between knowing about witches and carrying definite proof of their existence."

"We won't show anybody!" Kathryn protests.

Audrey nods her agreement.

Ranma gazes pensively at Hermione for a moment. "You know... Hermione's right," Ranma says, turning back to her friends.

"But, but, but-" Kathryn protests.

Ranma shakes her head forlornly. "I'm afraid that you two will just have to -" Ranma, with a flourish, hands each of her friends a gift-wrapped package "- be really, really sneaky."

Hermione scowls.

Shred. Rip. Tear. Kathryn tosses the crumpled wrapping to the ground and holds what appears to be a large pair of knobby brass binoculars to her eyes. She immediately starts fiddling with the dozens of buttons, sliders, and dials.

"Those are field omnioculars," Ranma starts. "They can-"

"Wow! It has tracking features! I can see things from different angles! And even around corners! Wicked! It's in slow-mo! Hey, do a punch!"

Ranma throws a quick jab. "I figured it would help you find scenes to paint," she explains.

Kathryn squeals. She puts the omnioculars down just long enough to wrap Ranma in an enormous hug. "Thank you so much!" Then she turns to Audrey. "What did you get?"

"A bookmark," Audrey says. She lifts the violet ribbon. It's two fingers' width, and is decorated with silver end-pieces – the first shaped into an open book and the second into a quill and inkwell. "It's very beautiful," Audrey adds politely.

"It's a searching bookmark with highlighting features," clarifies Ranma. She grabs Hermione's Oxford English Dictionary from a nearby bookshelf, sticks the violet ribbon between two random pages, touches a silver end-piece, then intones, "Find a word describing an irritating stickler for the rules." When she opens the book at the marked page, she declares, "'Neesan, you're persnickety."

"Hmph! Well you're an impudent, insolent, audacious, outrageous, presumptuous imp," Hermione responds indignantly, crossing her arms. "And I don't need the dictionary for that."

Ranma, meanwhile, is using the bookmark and flipping rapidly through the dictionary "I'm neither insolent nor outrageous," she protests finally.

"Oh, but you admit to the rest? You're incorrigible!"

Ranma is once again opening the dictionary when-

Ding dong! The door bell rings.

"Who could that be?" Hermione asks. She glances about and grimaces. "You clean this mess, and I'll get the door." She swiftly leaves the room.

Ding dong! Ding ding ding ding ding dong!

"Ranma! Hermione! Someone get the door. And, whatever it is, we're not buying any!" Gareth calls from upstairs.

Knock knock-knock knock knock. Knock knock.

Hermione rips open the door. "What do you want?" she asks tersely.

A man in a fashionable black suit stands on the porch beside a woman in similar attire. The woman folds a pair of shades and tucks them into a pocket. She gazes down at Hermione.

The man lowers his fist, which was obviously raised for further knocking. "Ministry of Magic, Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. I'm Arnold Peasegood, and this is Abigail Clearwater," he says briefly. Arnold blinks quizzically at Hermione. "I was told we were to be expected."

Hermione frowns. "Mr. Waldgrave said you'd be here, but we weren't given any time frame. Would you mind waiting until tomorrow? Right now, we have guests."

"They wouldn't happen to be Muggles, would they?" Abigail asks sharply. "Perhaps two Muggle girls by the names of Kathryn and Audrey?"

"Yes. Why?" Hermione asks.

"Ah, good!" Arnold declares. "That will save us some trouble."

Abigail frowns. "No. It isn't good. They should know better than to host Muggle guests when such an obvious magical effect is present."

Hermione narrows her eyes. "Why do you need to see them?"

"We have been apprised of the incident last night," Abigail states briskly. "We are here to rectify the situation."

"May we enter?" Arnold asks politely.

Hermione steps back, allowing the two to pass through the door. "You aren't going to obliviate them, are you?" she asks.

"Why, of course we are," Arnold answers, as though it were obvious.

"That is standard procedure," adds Abigail.

"Mr. Fulke said that wouldn't be necessary," Hermione protests.

Abigail's eyes meet Hermione's. "Mr. Fulke is suspended pending a disciplinary hearing," she says in a voice of cold steel. She continues to stare until Hermione looks away.

"Don't worry," Arnold says soothingly. "I'm an expert. I can be very selective."

"And what, exactly, are you going to select?" Hermione asks, turning to frown at the man.

"Oh, just what they remember of the incident last night and a few other piddling things."

"A few piddling things?" Hermione presses.

As Hermione asks her question, she steps into the family room and takes a look around.

The glass surfaces are sparkling clean. The wood finish is freshly polished and pine-scented. Kathryn's omnioculars sit innocently on the shelf next to Gareth's own binoculars, distinguishable to the casual viewer only by their brass rimmed lenses. The cauldron and the Monster Book of Monsters have vanished from sight. Audrey places her bookmark between the pages of her hardback edition of The Princess Bride, looking much less comfortable without Ranma's robes. Kathryn is attempting to force the ring off a complicated puzzle of metal bars and chains; she looks up and smiles sheepishly as they walk in. Ranma is swiftly wiping down the final surface, but her rag seemingly vanishes from her hands as she turns to face the suited figures.

"Who are they?" Ranma inquires.

"They're here to fix the wall," Hermione answers quickly.

Abigail stares disapprovingly at Ranma. "Just how did you make that rag disappear, child?"

"I stuffed it in my ear, of course," Ranma answers. Ranma moves a hand to her ear, then she slowly but forcefully tugs the rag from it, jerking just a few inches free at a time. "Where else would it go?" she asks, offering the dirty cloth to the glaring woman.

Abigail narrows her eyes and somehow glares even harder.

"I suppose I could swallow it, but that always makes me sneeze," Ranma continues. She tilts her head back and drops the rag into her mouth. "ah, ahhh, Achoo!" Most of the rag apparently bursts from her left nostril, and she quickly removes the rest. Again, she offers the now somewhat slimy cloth to Abigail, who shies away from it.

"That's just gross, Ranma," Kathryn says. She turns to look at Abigail and explains, "Ranma's been doing stuff like that ever since the magician visited last year."

"A wizard?" Abigail asks sharply.

"A magician. Muggle magic. Sleight of hand. The hand-" Ranma displays her fist, the nasty rag hanging from the sides "- is faster than the eye." She opens her fist with a flourish, and the rag is gone.

"Interesting," Arnold says, staring at Ranma's hand. "You're very skilled for your age."

Abigail turns away and spends a moment straightening her collar. "We've got work to do," she announces brusquely. "We don't have time for playing around. Which wall needs fixing?"

Hermione gestures to Ranma. "It's your fault. You lead them."

Ranma glowers at her sister, then sweeps out of the room. "Come on!" she yells back irritably.

Abigail follows.

Hermione cringes guiltily, then turns to Arnold. "Keep it quiet," she warns. "And if you take any more than absolutely necessary, I guarantee you'll regret it."

"What's going on?" Kathryn asks.

Hermione gazes despondently at Kathryn. Then she turns on her heel and heads after her sister, crossing the kitchen and ignoring Awelon's distressed hooting. She stops at the one-way wall, and gazes through.

Abigail and Ranma are in the sitting room behind the ensorcelled wall. Abigail holds a small, glowing device towards wall and a pensive expression on her face. Ranma watches lazily from a recliner. A suitcase lies open on the smoky glass table, filled with tools, potions, and pouches that Hermione can't even begin to identify.

"So, is it a one-way wall or a one-way hole?" Hermione asks curiously as she joins them, stepping through the doorway.

Abigail gazes narrowly at Hermione, then returns to observing the device, ignoring the question. "So it was a black, glowing spark that flew from the wand?" she asks.

"It was a lot of little sparks, and they kind'a floated slowly, not flew," Ranma answers grumpily. "And yes, I'm sure." She turns her gaze to Hermione. "Hey, where's the other guy?" she asks.

Hermione winces and looks at the ground.

"Where's who?" Arnold asks, suddenly stepping through the wall.

"Don't do that!" Abigail yells, stumbling back a step. "What if I was dispelling it?"

"I could see you, you know. Besides, if you managed to get me stuck in the wall, I'm sure you could reverse it. That is your specialty," he says. "I take it you aren't having any luck?"

"If I could just figure out what kind of magic it is -" Abigail growls in frustration. She shakes the device in her hand and points it at the wall. "Stupid thing doesn't work."

"Well, do you know what the spell looked like?" Arnold asks helpfully.

"Yes," Abigail snaps.

"It could be phasing magic," Ranma suggests from her cushioned seat.

"Space magic, phasing magic and time magic can't be done with just a wand," Hermione huffs imperiously. "They need a stabilizing element. Besides, it's incredibly complex – there's no way you could do it by accident."

Ranma rolls her eyes.

Abigail, on the other hand, looks somewhat enlightened. "Believe it or not, phasing magic is consistent with the readings I've made," she says tersely, heading back to her suitcase. "You'd be amazed at what people can do on accident... with or without a wand. Why, just two weeks ago I had to chase down and deflate awoman who was blown up just like a balloon and floating towards the clouds. She was young Mr. Potter's aunt, I believe."

Hermione's face adopts a pensive expression, then she scowls, then she frowns, then she once again appears contemplative.

Ranma laughs at the display. "Did your boyfriend forget to tell you something, 'neesan?" she teases.

Hermione glowers at her sister. "Did you know about this?"

"No," Ranma answers. Then she smiles vibrantly and very sweetly adds, "There's no need to worry, 'neesan. Your boyfriend hasn't told me anything that he hasn't told you."

Arnold faces Hermione with a start, then grins widely. "So, Harry Potter is your -"

"Harry Potter is not my boyfriend!" Hermione shouts for the world to hear.

"Be quiet down there!" Gareth shouts from upstairs.

Below, everyone hushes. They hear some soft, dulcet giggling, then a door slams shut.

"Do you think she doth protest too much?" Arnold asks as an aside to Ranma, breaking the momentary silence.

Ranma smirks, snickers, and nods.

Abigail lifts a small, finger-sized pouch from her suitcase and returns to the wall. "Stand back," she commands. "If this is phasing magic, then Doctor Dobbin's Dispelling Dust should destabilize it safely. It can handle most unstabilized magics. But, well...-"

"Well, what?" Hermione demands.

Abigail doesn't answer. Instead she takes a pinch of dust from the pouch and, with pursed lips, blows it from her gloved fingers towards the wall. She immediately scrambles back several steps. The billowing dust strikes the wall, which immediately fades, cracks, and ages as though a century had passed in a minute. The paint peels and bubbles for several more seconds before coming to an abrupt halt. Abigail again lifts the glowing device towards the wall. She twists various knobs on it and observes the results of her work silently.

"Well, nothing blew up," Arnold says positively.

Hermione glares at him, then at Abigail. Arnold shrugs and Abigail ignores the effort.

"So, did it work?" Ranma asks.

"Check the other side," Abigail replies brusquely.

Hermione follows Ranma back into the kitchen. Indeed, the wall is once again whole, albeit looking as aged and worn as it does on the other side. Suddenly the wall starts repairing and repainting itself, as though rapidly aging in reverse until the wall looks even better than the others in the Granger household.

Abigail enters through the doorway. "Well, that settles that. Be sure to contact us if the aperture re-manifests," she says professionally. Then she calls back into the other room. "Have you taken care of everything on your end, Arnold?"

"Yes. We can go," Arnold answers, stepping into the kitchen. He turns and beams at the children. "You two be good, now."

Abigail smirks and starts saying, "We'll have to tell everyone about young Potter's girlfr-" pop! Abigail and Arnold vanish simultaneously.

Hermione's eyes bug out.

Ranma frowns, glancing around. "Hey, where's Kathryn and Audrey?" she asks. "Kathryn wouldn't have missed this for the world."

"About that -" Hermione starts, but Ranma dashes off to find her friends.

Ranma quickly finds them. Kathryn and Audrey are sitting on the couch in the family room, staring with rapt attention at the blank television.

"Kate? Audrey? What's going on?" Ranma demands.

Ranma's friends don't respond; they don't even acknowledge Ranma's presence.

"They've been entranced," Hermione answers simply, stepping into the room. "To break it they have to be distracted from the target of their entrancement. Simple actions aren't enough." She waves her hand across Kathryn's field of vision and snaps her fingers, but Kathryn doesn't react. Then Hermione wets her finger in her mouth and casually sticks it into Kathryn's ear.

Kathryn leaps away, landing against Audrey. "Hey! Don't do that!" Kathryn squeals.

"Vengeance is mine," Hermione intones, smirking.

Kathryn pouts a little but doesn't respond verbally.

Audrey blinks in confusion. "What's going on?" she asks, casually wrapping an arm around the friend that just landed on her.

"You missed them fixing the one-way hole," Ranma explains.

"One-way hole?" Kathryn asks. "I want to see a one-way hole."

Audrey blinks at Ranma, obviously even more confused.

"You've already seen it. Remember? The one between the sitting room and the kitchen?" Ranma explains, frowning. But she receives only vacant looks in return.

"They've been obliviated, Ranma," Hermione says. "They don't remember."

Ranma wheels on Hermione. "You knew about this? You did, didn't you!" she accuses. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let this happen? Why didn't you stop them?"

"You can't stop them, Ranma."

"I would have stopped them!" Ranma declares angrily.

"Just how would you do that, Ranma?" Hermione returns scathingly, her fiery temper igniting. "How would you have stopped them? Would you bodily throw them from our house? I'm sure that would do a lot of good; you could be arrested for assault. Would you keep them from doing their jobs? Then they'd know you're violating the Statute of Secrecy, and you'd be in a lot of trouble for that. So, what would you do, Ranma?"

"I'd have found a way," Ranma growls, her brow drawn taut in concentration.

"Oh? Okay, then. Tell me. Let me hear it. Come on! The Ministry officials are here. You can dissemble; if you keep your head, you can delay them for a few minutes. They tell you they're here to rectify the situation, and you manage to garner that this includes obliviating Kathryn and Audrey. Quick! Tell me! What do you do, Ranma?"

"I hide them," says Ranma.

"What?"

"You heard me. I hide them."

"And what if they already know that Kathryn and Audrey are in the house?" Hermione asks.

"They wouldn't have known if I answered the door," snaps Ranma. "Or if you came and talked to me like you should have."

"Oh? And how would I do that? It's horribly rude to just leave them standing at the door. Besides, it would be suspicious," Hermione retorts hotly. "And since when do I answer to you?"

"You'd just tell them you need to fetch Mom, or something," Ranma casually answers the first question. Then she frowns, her eyes flash angrily, and she continues, "And you answer to me...- No. You answer to them." Ranma jabs a finger in the direction of Kathryn and Audrey, who watch the debate with some confusion. "As soon as this became about their minds, their memories... you answer to them. You stole from them the ability to choose."

Hermione sways back as though struck. Almost involuntarily, she gazes at Ranma's friends. Her lower lip quivers and her mouth widens in an expression of deep sorrow. Then she abruptly turns away. She rubs her arm across her brown eyes, wiping away a few tears that threaten to spill from them, and a few tears that already have. She steels herself; when she speaks, her voice is even. "But, suppose you did hide them today. Suppose you did stop them. They would just return tomorrow."

"I'd hide them again!" Ranma declares victoriously.

"And the next day? And the next? What about in two weeks, when you're at Hogwarts? How will you hide Kathryn and Audrey then?" Hermione asks, frowning. "How would you hide them every single day?" Hermione's frown darkens. "Would you stow them in your pocket? Would you lock them in a Fugitive? Imprison them in an Exile?"

Ranma scowls and glares at her sister, unable to form a response.

Hermione continues. "And don't you think the Ministry would become just a little suspicious when they couldn't ever find Kathryn and Audrey? Do you really think they wouldn't figure out that you were hiding them? Do you really believe that you wouldn't get into trouble for obstructing their work? They could arrest you. They could forbid you from attending Hogwarts. They might even expel me, if I didn't cooperate."

"I'd just...-" Ranma starts haltingly. After a moment, her mouth clicks shut as she actually mulls over her sister's words. Her visage fluctuates from contemplative to frowning, yet her eyes remain fixed on Hermione. Finally, and abruptly, Ranma answers, "I'd just have to convince them that it was in their best interests to not come back. Ever. They would report that they finished their job."

"Oh, brilliant idea, Ranma," Hermione scoffs. "You get that from one of those Yakuza films? Triad? Tong?"

Ranma glowers at her sister.

"I can see the headlines now," Hermione continues, her voice managing a melodramatic sarcasm. "Ranma Granger – first girl ever to earn the enmity of the Ministry at age eleven. I hear Azkaban has a recent vacancy. Would you care to fill it?"

"I'd have found a way," Ranma grumbles again, still glowering at her sister. "You still should have told me."

Hermione stares back, unflinching. "Why should I have, Ranma? You can't hide Kathryn and Audrey. Further, you've already considered using threat or force or whatever you believe can convince a pair of Ministry officials, and that's after you've had plenty of time to think. If I told you earlier, you'd've just rushed off and done something even more foolish, and all you'd accomplish is getting us both into trouble. Besides, Kathryn and Audrey aren't even supposed to know about magic. It's the law!"

"Magic?" Kathryn asks incredulously.

"Well, that does explain a few of my more unusual memories," Audrey says thoughtfully.

"It's a stupid law!" Ranma yells back, ignoring her friends.

"But it's still the law! Just because you don't like it doesn't mean you shouldn't follow it."

"You shouldn't follow a stupid law," Ranma replies with finality.

Hermione just arches a brow.

"If people didn't follow Hitler's stupid laws, millions of people would have been saved. It's by breaking stupid laws that civil rights were restored to blacks in America. There are lots of examples," Ranma explains. "It's a duty."

"That's exactly it! You need people, Ranma, and lots of them. One person, alone, can't fight the system. Further, if you're going to protest one law, you shouldn't do it by breaking a bunch of others; I know you weren't considering civil disobedience. But more importantly, just because you don't like a law doesn't make it stupid. There are many legitimate reasons for the Statute of Secrecy."

Ranma narrows her eyes. "Like what? So wizards can play with people's minds without consequence? So they can wipe away memories that are just a little inconvenient for them? So wizards can steal, rape, or kill with impunity?"

"The witch trials -" Hermione starts.

"Exactly," Ranma snaps. "The only reason for the Statute of Secrecy is to protect wizards from Muggle authority."

"Quoting Dad now, are you? But you forget that wizards were being persecuted without good reason. They needed protection from Muggle authority."

"Protection, yes. Immunity, no. They should have worked to change the Muggle laws."

"They aren't immune," Hermione points out. "The wizards police their own."

"And just how does raping the minds of my friends involve policing their own?" Ranma demands angrily.

"You're exaggerating."

"How do you know. You've never had your memories stolen," Ranma retorts.

"No. But I know a girl who has," Hermione responds, staring Ranma square in the eye. "And she's doing just fine."

Ranma clenches her fist and glares back at Hermione. She opens her mouth as though to shout something... then she halts herself, turns stiffly, and stomps out of the room.

Slam! The resounding echo flies from the front door.

Hermione gazes after her sister, her face adopting a more sullen expression.

"You two should really stop getting so worked up over your little arguments," Kathryn announces. "You always get so mad at each other. What's so important about witches and wizards, anyway?"

"Um, Kate? I think a few of our memories may have been erased," Audrey says. "If I understand this correctly, witches and wizards are real, and the argument wasn't entirely hypothetical."

Kathryn blinks. "Are you sure? I mean, witches and wizards, real? Isn't that stretching a little?"

"How did you injure your hand, Kate?" Audrey inquires. "Of what are your new omni-oculars capable?"

"A book- ... oh. Oh!" Kathryn's blue eyes brighten in surprise, catching brilliant rays from the setting sun. She briefly turns her gaze to the window, a contemplative expression on her glowing face.

Hermione stares down at the girls on the couch for a second, then sighs. "I might as well explain a few things," she says reluctantly. "Starting with: I'm a witch, and so is Ranma..."

-oOo-

Ranma slides to the side, narrowly dodging a shadowy panda-claw, then leaps to avoid a trio of dark, vaporous bandannas. Two of the bandannas dig deep into the surface below her before fading out, but the third curves, flying past the agile Ranma and strikes an antenna at its base. Ranma stumbles a half-step as she lands, breathing heavily.

Clang. Clunk. The antenna impacts the rooftop with a resounding metallic clatter.

The combat has continued for some time, and Ranma is exhausted. She struggles to catch her breath and recover her strength for another assault. She feels pain – a bruised rib, a stunned arm – but she doesn't let it show. Showing any weakness is dangerous with either of these opponents. A thin trail of blood flows from a scratch above her eye. The cut isn't deep, but it stings nastily... especially as salty sweat beads around it in the humid evening. The blood mixes with sweat and trickles down her cheek and slowly drips from her chin. Drip. Drip.

Ranma glances about, trying to regain her bearings.

The sun has settled, though the reds and oranges of sunset can be seen on the western horizon. The sky is the shady blue-grey of twilight, while the distant clouds are a hazy, dark violet. Electric lights flicker to life, slowly dotting the city. Ranma stands atop one of the larger buildings with a view ranging miles, though she is more interested in her immediate vicinity. On the ground below are trashy alleys and torn streets, cluttered with old garbage and shattered glass. A worn and crumbling parapet surrounds a rooftop pitted with age and strewn with small blocks of concrete and scrap metal. Finally, there are her two opponents: the shadow-panda and the shadow-umbrella-boy.

Ranma eyes them warily, preparing to intercept another assault. Alone, either of them provides a decent challenge for her – they have greater height, reach, strength, mass, and prodigious endurance in addition to excellent speed and skill. Together... well, she had come here wanting a challenge. They are what showed up. Considering how the fight has been going so far, Ranma's just thankful that the challenge isn't greater, like the shadow-ghoul or the shadow-gnome.

The shadow-panda rushes forward and attacks, this time throwing a complicated series of kicks and punches that Ranma barely has the energy to dodge. A moment later, the shadow-umbrella-boy joins in, charging her flank. Allowing herself to take a heavy, painful panda-kick to her shoulder, Ranma captures the shadow-umbrella-boy's charge and flings him into the shadow-panda, bowling them both backwards. The pair crashes into a mess of metal – it had been the building's main air-conditioning unit before shadow-umbrella-boy destroyed it. The shadows land in an undignified pile of tangled limbs and metal with a loud clanging and clattering, scattering metal into a wider pile. While struggling to free itself, the shadow-panda, for some reason, bops the shadow-umbrella-boy with a shadow-sign. The two begin to scuffle amongst themselves.

Huff. Huff. Ranma uses the opportunity to catch her breath. She also stretches a bit, working out the tightening knots in her burning muscles.

Despite the injuries, despite the pain, despite the challenge of the fight, and in the face of anything remotely resembling common sense, Ranma's attention is focused almost entirely inwards... which might go a long way towards explaining Ranma's condition.

At the moment, she is contemplating the beings in front of her.

While Ranma has forgotten the origins of these shadow-beings, she now understands that they are probably the result of accidental magic. You'd be amazed what people can do on accident... with or without a wand, that Ministry witch had said this evening, and this morning, Ollivander mentioned something about her magic having a darkness aspect.

But their shapes? Their behaviors? These aren't creatures Ranma would design consciously. They came from dreams. And while Ranma vaguely remembers having remembered them from dreams, the strange dreams themselves have long since faded from her memory. The last one was over a year ago, something about... Ranma can't remember. More recently, Ranma's few dreams have been contemporary, based on her friends, family, food, fighting, movies, cooking, school, violins... and cats.

Ranma shudders. She has been suffering a recurring nightmare, a really weird one, for almost five months now. Cats in white lab coats are giving her a CAT scan and cataloging their findings. But she overhears their nefarious plan! Buried in her belly is the crucial catalyst to cause a catastrophic cataclysm! A cat with a surgeon's mask walks over to Ranma with a jagged saw and a thick tube... a catheter, Ranma believes, but of obscene and painful proportions. Ranma panics and pulls the lever which wasn't there a moment before, but it makes sense in the dream, and the act catapults her from the bed. Somehow, she ends up in the catacombs and tries to escape, but a swarm of cats gives chase, whipping their a cat-o'-nine-tails and corralling her like cattle, until they catch her at a dead end. Finally, they climb all over her and caterwaul and she goes catatonic – at which point she wakes up, panicking and sweaty.

She blames that dream entirely on Mr. Ogden.

Last Spring, Mr. Ogden had punished her by making her copy every entry that starts with the letters c-a-t from his dictionary... which is fortunately much smaller than Hermione's. Further, he forced her to perform it in neat, flowing script, redoing any page with so much as a smudge or ink blot. And how did he justify such a cruel and unusual punishment? Two words: aversion therapy. Mr. Ogden has always been very practical when it comes to punishments. He had decided that Ranma would either diminish her aversion to cats or develop an aversion to causing trouble, and either lesson was alright with him.

Admittedly, Ranma managed to finish the job with only a total of six hours of detention – she had cheated by writing with both hands at once. But still... Wasn't that punishment just a little excessive for "bringing out the banshee" on the morning intercom? Ranma thought it a wonderful joke – as did April and June, who had suggested it to her.

Ranma pauses. How did Mr. Ogden learn about her fear of cats, anyway?

Crunch. Ranma reels back as a shadow-fist meets her face, bloodying her nose. Slam. A shadow-leg catches her in the side and she slides towards the edge of the roof. Groan. Ranma pushes herself to her feet, wipes her nose, shakes away the dizziness, dodges an incoming blow, then rushes in. She begins the counterattack, refreshed with her second wind.

For a while, Ranma simply delights in the cruel, senseless violence of smashing the surprised shadow-panda around the rooftop. For Ranma, there is something primal, something intensely satisfying about that act of catching the shadow-panda off-balance then pummeling and pummeling and pummeling without giving the sneaky bastard a chance to recover initiative. Of course, it doesn't hurt that the shadow-panda does the same to her on a regular basis and Ranma feels utterly no guilt for beating a shadow.

After several minutes, the shadow-umbrella-boy intercedes; it had been looming on the parapet with a smirk clearly visible in its body language, as though delighting in the punishment to its partner. It leaps into battle and viciously kicks Ranma in the side, causing her to slide several feet across harsh concrete.

Ranma stands up, winces briefly at the new scrapes and bruises, then brushes herself off and moves back into battle.

Eventually, she focuses her mind on the issues that brought her here in the first place: memory. Ultimately, dreams fade away and memories are forgotten. That's the natural order of things.

But to forcibly destroy memories...

Ranma growls and launches an extra strong punch at shadow-umbrella-boy. The strike catches the boy in the chest, launching him backwards... but the shadow-panda makes her regret it by immediately grabbing her extended arm and throwing her. She lands on her feet... on the parapet, right at the edge of the building. After glancing down nervously, she rushes back into battle.

How could Hermione justify such a thing? Some things are just plain wrong... like fat, naked people on trampolines. There's simply nothing that can possibly justify it. Ever.

Ugh. Now there's a memory Ranma would pay to forget. The things you see while aimlessly wandering a city by rooftop... especially a city lacking adequate decency laws...

Ranma pauses... then immediately ducks an incoming fist, and makes a mental note to stop pausing while she thinks. She fights for a few minutes longer before locating her derailed train of thought.

Oh yes... justification... which is essentially an excuse good enough that you can use it before the action that would get you into trouble, as Gareth once so succinctly put it – a good excuse gets you forgiveness, a good justification gets you permission, and it's easier to get forgiveness than permission.

So, with regards to obliviation, when is it justified?

Well, obliviation is obviously alright when permission is given, supposing the obliviator is skilled enough to do a precise job. Ranma knows there is a market for people that want to forget things. Many people spend a lot of money ineffectually attempting to drown bad memories in alcohol.

But when is obliviation justified without consent?

Ranma wants to say it is never justified, but, alas, her mind almost immediately proposes a plausible situation: war. In war, losing a secret might equate to losing hundreds or thousands of lives. Loose lips sink ships; silence means security; et cetera. The lives of men shouldn't be balanced against the sanctity of some individual's mind. Even someone whom the military can trust with its highest secrets might still be subject to magical mind-reading. Ranma can't deny that, in this case, obliviation is justified. If the only feasible alternatives to obliviation are murder or imprisonment, obliviation might be the only humanitarian solution.

Ranma frowns, not liking something about that reasoning, but unable to find anything technically wrong with it.

Ranma primarily determines right and wrong based on feelings. If it feels right, then it's right. If it feels wrong, then it's wrong. It isn't an unusual approach to morality, depending on this sense of right and wrong. But arguments based on feelings simply flop and die like a fish out of water at the battlefield also known as the Granger dinner table. If Ranma is to win this argument against Hermione, she will need much better ammunition than feelings.

And Ranma Granger always wins.

... She just needs a little more time to figure out how.

Of course, that's not the only battle she needs to win. The two shadows continue their attack. Ranma dances back, narrowly avoiding another assault, and stops near the fallen antenna. With a quick flip from her foot, the antenna flies to her hand. She rushes into combat, expertly wielding the antenna like a staff. Swoosh! Whump! Whump! Whoosh!

Ranma has seen a movie in which hardened criminals are mind-wiped, brainwashed, then returned to society... where they become happy, productive citizens. In general, they are a whole lot happier than they were as criminals. However, the treatment was imperfect; though it was rare, some people relapsed. At the beginning of the movie, one such ex-criminal regains his memories then, after faking for a day, voluntarily returns to the institute to be fixed so he can return to being happy with his drudge job, crappy apartment, and good friends. The movie, however, focuses on one man who recovers his memory and learns that he wasn't a criminal. He had been mind-wiped for illegitimate reasons: to protect some major conspiracy secret about how the ominous They were wiping people's minds for various illegitimate reasons. By the time the movie ends, the conspiracy is revealed, people are in an uproar, the institution is destroyed, and crime is beginning to rise once again.

At the beginning of the movie, Ranma had viewed all the mind-wipes as legitimate. They struck her as wrong, but they were supposedly legal. And she couldn't deny their effectiveness. Crime was at an all-time low. Brainwashed ex-criminals were happily doing the grunge-jobs of society like bagging groceries and janitorial work. The society was almost Utopian. But the moment Ranma realized that the power to mind-wipe people was being abused, the institution took a far more ominous aspect.

Obviously the abuse was wrong, but what about the institution? And would an answer apply in her debate with Hermione? Her instincts say it does – it feels like it could relate. But how? And why? Again, Ranma has trouble connecting things.

... but only in her mind.

Slam! The staff connects with the shadow-panda's side, sending the great bear hurtling into the pile of metal debris. Ranma reverses and jabs towards the shadow-umbrella boy. Her second target dodges, sliding past the attack, and grabs the staff one-handed. Ranma smirks, then, pushing her two smaller arms to their limit, shoves the opposite end of the staff upwards and towards the shadow-umbrella-boy's body. She launches the shadow-umbrella-boy over the edge of the building.

Ring out! ... What? The shadow-umbrella-boy casually opens his umbrella and, impossibly, begins floating back towards the rooftop like a dark Mary Poppins. While returning, he flings several black, vaporous bandannas towards Ranma.

Ranma frowns while casually dodging the attacks. Doesn't that shadow-umbrella mass at least thirty kilos? Growling, she rushes several steps forward and throws the antenna like a spear, sending it hurtling towards the shadow-umbrella-boy.

The shadow-umbrella-boy attempts to dodge, shifting the massive umbrella and, thus, his center of mass... but his agility in the air isn't sufficient. Slam! The antenna reverberates, striking the shadow-umbrella-boy near his umbrella-carrying shoulder. Both boy and antenna fall in a descending arc, crashing through a window on a building opposite the street. Ranma gazes over the parapet, watching as the shadow-umbrella-boy fades out of existence in the deeper shadows of the building.

Ranma smirks. One down. Sensing attack, she dodges left to avoid a panda-claw-thrust, then blocks a swipe to the head. She punches back, striking the shadow-panda under its arm. One to go.

Ranma and the shadow-panda begin a close-range fight. Grapples, throws, elbows, knees, and joint locks abound. It isn't their preferred style, but failing to train in it would be a mistake. The panda wields its greater height and girth to advantage, and Ranma counters by becoming greased lightning – improbable to catch, impossible to hold, and never striking in the same way twice.

Ranma growls in frustration. She still can't figure out what is inherently wrong about the institution of mind-wiping and brainwashing hardened criminals... what it is that makes her feel it is wrong. Unfortunately, while it briefly crosses Ranma's mind that the potential for the abuse of power is what bothers her, she dismisses the thought. Ranma is hardly the girl to think about power in terms of its potential for abuse. Thus, it never occurs to Ranma that discussing the institution's potential for corruption combined with it's ability to hide that corruption would be very germane to the debate regarding the wizarding world's use of obliviation. Instead, Ranma finds herself considering thoughts of a more utilitarian nature. The institution of mind-wiping and brainwashing criminals leads to diminished custody costs, an increase in society's productive workers, and happier people – albeit, mostly ex-criminals. It might even lead to lower crime. None of that seems wrong.

... But it sure seems a lot like killing the original person and replacing them with a drone.

Yet, isn't that the whole point of jail-time in the first place? Of punishment in general? Mr. Ogden punishes Ranma and society punishes criminals in the vain hope of reforming them, so that they never again perform the offensive act that merited punishment. If successful, the offender isn't truly the same person – he or she has changed, hopefully for the better. But some offenders are... What is the word Hermione used? Incorrigible. Against hardened criminals, corporal punishment and custody have almost no effect. As soon as they escape their punishment, they return to committing crimes. Why would any reasonable society continue to use such an ineffective means when brainwashing and mind-wiping is a thousand times more effective and cheaper?

Of course, simply killing them is effective and cheap, too. Dead criminals, no matter how hardened, never commit offensive acts again.

Ranma suddenly frowns. Maybe she has it wrong. The purpose of the criminal justice system is justice, which is not the same as reform. And criminal justice is all about making sure that criminals get what they deserve – retribution. It's about ensuring that their crimes will catch up with them, and ensuring that the punishment fits the crime. And, Ranma supposes, it is also about deterrence, warning the offender and others away from the offensive behavior. It wouldn't do to give someone a slap on the wrist for murder. What sort of example would that set? But neither is it right to cut someone's hand off for stealing a pack of bubblegum. That's just too harsh.

Is that what she finds offensive about the mind-wipe and brainwash? That it doesn't serve justice? It seems to Ranma that the mind-wipe and brainwash is a rather harsh punishment. It's the death of memory, the death of personality... the death of a soul. It's an entirely different sort of "capital" punishment, true, but almost as thorough. On the other hand, in the movie it was only to be used on hardened criminals. Many of them deserved death for their crimes.

Ranma sighs. This line of thinking isn't getting her anywhere.

It doesn't strike Ranma as particularly odd that she, at age eleven, is considering philosophical, moral, and ethical issues far beyond the ken of any normal child. She just wants to win a debate. What does strike her is... the shadow-panda.

Thud. Thump. "Oof." Crackle. Pop.

Okay, maybe impossible to hold was an exaggeration, Ranma admits, as her twisted body sings a strange and horrifying symphony of...-

Snap. Crunch. Crack. Grind. Groan.

-... pain. Ranma spits out pieces of shattered concrete and struggles to breathe. Her nose and cheek grate painfully against abrasive rooftop. She takes a moment to analyze her situation.

The panda has managed to capture her in an arm-lock. Its legs are scissored around her bicep and its paw grasps her wrist, putting the massive pressure on her elbow and shoulder. With its free hand, the shadow-panda playfully tugs at her fingers, brutally stretching several backwards, though not quite breaking them. Finally, with its entire weight on her back and shoulder, it casually rocks back and forth, slowly grinding her face and shoulder into the concrete surface.

... At least it isn't hell's cradle. Ranma has never defeated that move except by zealously avoiding it.

Ranma is tempted to yield, to submit. If she does, the pain will stop and the shadow will fade away. She knows this. She feels its teeth nibbling playfully on her fingers, not quite cutting – a reminder that she's at the shadow-panda's mercy. Yes... Ranma is very tempted to yield, but today she wants victory, and, while she knows that her arm might be broken, she also knows that the shadow-panda won't actually bite off her fingers – the shadows generally restrict themselves to the normal rules of sparring... or, at least, sparring as Ranma understands it. So, taking rash action, Ranma doesn't submit.

Ranma wedges her free hand underneath her body as the shadow-panda rocks back and forth to grind her face into the pavement. Then she focuses herself, her breathing, and shoves downwards with all her might. Success! The effort launches both her and the shadow-panda skyward. Ranma immediately flips to adjust her body into a less precarious position then begins pummeling the shadow-panda.

Under her blows, the shadow-panda releases her arm. It then immediately attempts to scissor its legs around her waist and punch her, which Ranma narrowly avoids and blocks in succession. By the time the pair reach the ground, they are once again involved in their close-combat sparring.

What was Hermione's argument anyway? Ranma thinks suddenly. Was Hermione even arguing that obliviation was justified? That what those ministry officials did to Kathryn and Audrey was somehow acceptable? It would hardly be the first time Ranma and Hermione quarreled but only argued past each other due to miscommunication. Something may have been spoken incorrectly. Something may have been misunderstood. The adoptive siblings rarely think on the same wavelength; the answer to Are you thinking what I'm thinking? is always No.

Ranma wracks her brain, trying to recall the details of their most recent fight.

How had it proceeded? Oh, yes. First Hermione accused Ranma of being incapable of protecting her friends.

Ranma frowns and throws a particularly vicious elbow-strike into the shadow-panda's throat.

I'd have found a way, Ranma assures herself.

Second, Hermione pointed out that one person, alone, can't fight the system – an idea that Ranma begrudgingly grants in this case. Without the advantage of surprise, Ranma knows that even one wizard or witch could be difficult to defeat. They can apparate away or buzz about on brooms and do evil things like turn her into a c-c-... a toad, or levitate her so she can't move, or... or obliviate away her skills.

Crunch. Ranma doesn't recall exactly what she just did to the shadow-panda's left arm, but it didn't sound very nice. She mentally shrugs. It's just a magical construct anyway.

Anyhow, if defeating even one wizard is difficult, then taking on the whole Ministry is impossible. But, Ranma thinks shrewdly, someone with enough power could fight the whole Ministry. Alone. So, Hermione's statement isn't entirely true.

Not that such a person exists, Ranma adds arrogantly... more out of habit than firm belief. After all, I'm the best.

Not when it comes to wizardry, pipes a tiny, tinny sounding part of her mind.

Ranma casts that thought aside as blasphemous and tries to recall what happened next in her argument with Hermione. Hermione said something... what was it? ... something about civil disobedience. Ranma cannot recall exactly what Hermione said, but she remembers Hermione saying the words. Ranma scoffs. Why would Hermione even bring that up? The thought of civil disobedience hadn't even crossed Ranma's mind; Hermione should know her imoutochan well enough to expect that. Why waste time with that inefficient tactic when the tightly controlled application of violence and threat work so much more expediently? Ranma rolls her eyes... which, unfortunately, removes them from the ongoing combat.

Slam! A shadow-panda-paw carries a powerful right hook hardacross Ranma's temple.

Ranma reels. For several seconds, black spots dance in her eyes. Thud-thud-thud-crunch!-thud. The rather angry shadow-panda continues to unload a rapid series of kicks and powerful punches, using its one good arm. The blows into the child's chest break one rib and bruise the rest... which makes them hurt only slightly worse than they already did. Ranma drops into heavy defense, regaining her bearings before rejoining the fight.

She finds her thoughts derailed by the blows. Where was she? Third? No, Fourth. Fourth, Hermione had... umm... Ranma mentally ticks them off: protecting her friends, fighting the system, civil disobedience, Statute of Secrecy...

Fourth, Hermione said that the Statute of Secrecy is legitimate.

Ranma almost laughs. Hermione hadn't said that obliviation is justified. She had said that the Statute of Secrecy is legitimate. And, thus, Ranma now has her strategy for victory. All she has to do is approach Gareth with the right questions over dinner, play a little devil's advocate, then pass the baton to Hermione. Gareth hates the Statute of Secrecy; he almost certainly has a well-formulated argument against it that he hasn't had much opportunity to espouse. Further, the logical war-machine known as Gareth is much better at debate than Ranma and Hermione. He will tear Hermione's arguments to shreds; Hermione will cave in, and Ranma will win!

Victory!

Grinning, Ranma catches the shadow-panda in the simple but effective sleeper hold – her arms wrapped tightly around its neck, slowly suffocating its "brain". One wouldn't expect it to work on these shadows, considering that they have neither heart nor lungs... nor brain, for that matter. But, in Ranma's experience, they react to attacks in much the same way that creatures of flesh and blood would... albeit, extremely strongand hardy creatures of flesh and blood.

Attempting to escape, the shadow-panda tries to elbow her, but panda bodies aren't well designed for elbowing. It claws and scratches at her arms, drawing thin lines of blood from her tough skin, but she just grimaces and tightens the hold. It attempts to slam her into the concrete, but she sticks her legs out and catches herself. It repeats the process, this time reaching back to capture her legs so she can't brace against the fall...

Slam! Oof. Ranma strikes the pavement with the whole mass of the shadow-panda atop her, crushing the air from her lungs and jabbing her iron amulet painfully into her bruised and broken ribs. For several seconds, black spots decimate her vision. Ouch! Feeling addled and agonized, baffled and battered, she tightens the sleeper hold that slackened to the blow.

The panda rises with Ranma still clinging to its neck, hanging from its taller form with her legs barely reaching its waist. Wobbling a bit, it trudges and totters towards the center of the rooftop. Then, leaping again, it begins to fall into the pile of jagged metal scrap.

Vicious, eh? Ranma can do vicious.

Ranma releases the choke-hold, slides down the shadow-panda's back a few feet, slipping through the shadow-panda's faltering grip. She wraps her legs tightly around the shadow-panda's girth, as though mounting a horse. Quickly, she swings her own body backwards until she's hanging upside down and reaches for the ground below her. She plants her hands against a few safe spots between the metal scraps. Continuing to rotate, and using a little of her own brute strength, she redirects the fall into an unorthodox suplex.

Slam! Clatter! The shadow-panda crashes headfirst into the pile of jagged metal scrap.

Ranma crawls away, breathing heavily, and looks back.

The shadow-panda lies there, unmoving amongst the rubble. Its whole body flickers then slowly begins to fade away.

Ha ha! Ranma crows victoriously. Get up from that!

The shadow-panda's flickering, fading form suddenly stabilizes and darkens dramatically. For a moment it lies still. Then, with a groan only seen in its body language, the panda painfully pushes itself to its feet. It rubs its temples between its paws, then brushes off a few pieces of metal scrap that rose with it. Finally, it turns to face Ranma.

Ranma groans, but does her best to shake off her own injuries. Her neck and knuckles pop and crackle as she rolls her head and flexes her joints.

Then she leaps into combat, red braid dancing behind her, and the shadow leaps to join her. The two collide in mid-air, throwing punches and kicks. They literally fight to remain in the air. But gravity ultimately asserts itself. They strike only a few more times before bouncing away.

Ranma is happy at this development – they have returned to the more familiar Saotome Musabetsu Kakuto Ryuu, an aerial style that focuses on speed and misdirection. While Ranma doesn't know the name of the style, she does feel very comfortable with it. She lacks the reach, leverage, mass, and strength needed to out-wrestle the shadow-panda. In the air, Ranma is no longer at such a significant disadvantage; the shadow-panda's reach is still an important advantage, but the shadow-panda's greater mass becomes a handicap. In the air, the value of agility and power is greater than that of leverage and strength. Further, the shadow-panda is still handicapped with its lame left arm; Ranma now holds the advantage.

Ranma doesn't hesitate to utilize that advantage. Using a deceptive combination, Ranma lands a powerful backhand strike to the shadow-panda's left temple, punching through its limited defenses and sending the shadow-panda reeling. She casually dodges the panda's return strike. Ranma grins wickedly, and the fight continues, with Ranma brutally and repeatedly beating the shadow-panda.

Shortly thereafter, she is back to her pseudo-brooding.

So, Ranma wonders. Why was I angry at Hermione, again?

Ranma frowns in concentration, trying to answer that question.

Then her features darken. She remembers. Hermione manipulated Ranma in order that Kathryn and Audrey could be obliviated without Ranma's intervention. She justified the action by saying that Ranma: one – could not protect Kathryn and Audrey from the Ministry in the long run, two – would have attempted to do so anyway, and three – would, in the process, have angered the Ministry with both Granger girls, likely with dire consequences.

Then Ranma sighs, making sure to avoid a panda-claw spear strike as she does so.

After phrasing Hermione's justifications, Ranma can't bring herself to blindly deny they are reasonable, especially if they are right – blind denial or naïve acceptance of anything is "a crime against reason" in the Granger household. And, considering her normal modus operandi, Ranma has to admit that it is within the realm of possibility that Hermione just might be right.

Ranma considers it for a while longer.

... Oh, heck. Hermione was right. Hermione was right... on all three points.

But that doesn't make Ranma feel any better. It doesn't justify Kathryn and Audrey having their memories stolen, especially not to keep some stupid secret. And, while Ranma no longer blames Hermione for her action on an intellectual level, Ranma still feels betrayed. The manipulation, the deceit, the-

Snag! Ouch! The shadow-panda's supposedly lame left arm snaps out to catch Ranma's long, red braid, putting an abrupt and painful halt to Ranma's brooding; Ranma curses and credits the shadow-bastard for its deviousness.

Whoosh! Ranma hurtles through the air towards the mound of metal near the center of the rooftop. Crunch! Scraaape! Ranma lands roughly, planting her feet precariously on either side of a nasty-looking, flesh-shredding, serrated edge of ex-air-conditioning-unit; torn tines tower dangerously close to her crotch. Beneath her feet, twisted metal scrapes and sounds with the tone of steel on stone, scarring the roof and gouging her heels. Ranma attempts to catch her balance, but...-

Thump! Oof! A shadow-panda-foot slams into the child's tiny chest, landing in the girl's gut and slamming upwards towards her heart, bruising all sorts of vital organs and forcing air from her lungs in a single gush. The kick launches her skywards, but the shadow-panda controls the motion with its grip on her arm-length braid. It shifts, rotates, impels her into another tight arc, then releases...

Whiz! Ranma flies, tumbling through the air.

Ranma struggles to breathe, but air only comes in small, tiny, painful gasps. She struggles to see through the encroaching blackness that enshrouds the fading light, but her dying vision can't be resuscitated without air. Ranma struggles to maintain some sense of orientation, but her dying vision offers no purchase against her dizziness.

Slam! Ranma craters a concrete wall, and it crumbles upon her. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Chunks of concrete strike her head, ringing her ears like hammers against a gong. Blackness blasts away her sight.

Ranma sloughs to the ground. Spots of light float across her eyes – little stars, orbiting.

Breathe! Ranma gasps painfully, forcing herself to deeply draw upon the agonizing air. The spinning world slows to a mere leftwards crawl. With creaking, popping, protesting limbs, she digs herself out of the rubble and pushes herself to her feet. Ranma searches the rooftop for her dark adversary. She looks left, following her dizzied perceptions, but the shadow-panda is not there. She looks right but can't make out any dark blobs against the growing night in that direction, either. Finally, she looks up, and she sees it, hidden in the last vestiges of twilight – a huge, dark shadow, falling from above, carrying something...

SLAM! The shadow-panda drives a hulking mess of concrete and rebar onto Ranma's skull.

Consciousness flees. Darkness conquers her world.

-oOo-

Cough. Cough. Cough. Ranma releases a sputtering series of deep, rattling coughs. Fluids jettison from her mouth and dribble from her lips: phlegm and saliva, viscous gray with cement dust and speckled red with blood. She continues coughing for almost a minute before the fit ceases.

... join us ...

Her blue eyes flutter open. She finds herself staring into the unusually bright, starry skies. Thin wisps of clouds hang suspended in the still, sordid air, half hiding the slender, silver, crescent moon. How long has it been? Ten minutes? An hour? The last vestiges of twilight have long since passed, vanishing with her consciousness.

... join us ...

Ranma moans. She shifts, lifting herself from her bed of concrete and steel. Her stiff joints, sore muscles, and injured ribs protest the movement. Rubble rolls clear as she rises inexorably into sitting position. Hesitantly, Ranma lifts a hand and tests her tender ribs: bruised, bruised, bruised, beaten, bludgeoned, broken – she winces, but she continues. She learns that while five of her ribs are fractured – two by the shadow-panda's final kick – most of them are already mending. But she frowns in alarm; one rib is mending awkwardly, having been forced out of place by the blanket of debris. She flinches. Crack! With a swift two-fingered stroke, she breaks the rib again. Then she teases it back into a position where, hopefully, it will set correctly.

... Join us! ...

Ranma fights the impulse to just fall back asleep. She takes several wheezing, rattling breaths. She hacks up more grayish ooze, and spits it to the side. Lungs clear, Ranma breathes deeply... then exhales, in... and out, slowly... and evenly.

Beyond the sound of her breathing, the world is silent, but...

... become ...

Ranma shudders, feeling uneasy.

Fishing around in her pocket, Ranma procures a small, silver mirror. She sets it ritually on the ground. A second later, a simple white handkerchief follows. Then, one after another, she pulls out a comb, a stick of instant stain remover, a small sewing kit, a bar of soap, and a canteen. Her oops-I-broke-curfew-again survival kit at ready, Ranma's hands blaze into action. Swish, spit, wipe, wipe, sew-sew-sew...-

... become ...

She halts. She peers into the mirror. She is ready to go. She has become... cleaner, if not entirely clean. Her hair is free of debris and back in place, flowing down her back in a wide braid that reaches deep into her hair, but it is a little gray, sporting some stubborn cement dust. Her torn clothes are repaired with thread... indistinguishable from new in the dim light; however, the worn patches and abrasive damage cannot be so easily fixed. Her face and hands are washed entirely – she doesn't appear quite so fresh as she did that morning, but she no longer looks ready to join an army of evil dead. Ranma gives herself one last thorough check before she pockets the mirror.

... the darkness ...

Ranma stands and peers into the surrounding darkness. Above, the stars shine brightly; she sees hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands where normally a meager dozen are seen above the skies of London. Below, as far as she can see, the city is dark, desolate, silent, still – except for a roiling fog that obscures the streets, rolling between tenebrous towers. The few cars she can distinguish are cold, quiet, empty... abandoned. Abandoned is a good word. Everything she sees could be the result of a catastrophic power failure and a massive fog off a nearby river, but this surreal city-scape feels... abandoned.

... shows the way ...

Ranma directs her attention to the rooftop and her eyes narrow. She sees the antenna, standing upright, pointing towards the stars. She examines it for a moment longer, then continues searching her surroundings. Her eyes fall upon the pile of metal scrap that was once a viable air-conditioning unit. When she turns again, the antenna is gone, severed near the base, leaving only a stump. Is this a dream? She reaches up to pinch herself, but she stops, hand half-lifted; her ribs remind her that, yes, she feels pain plenty well.

... our god ...

"Is everything as it should be, Andhera?" a deep, mocking voice asks, shredding the silence.

Ranma wheels about. Her body tenses. "Who are you?" she demands.

"Such hostility, Andhera... Tell me – what have I done to deserve it?" the resonant, baritone words answer her. Seated lazily on the silent air-conditioning unit is the speaker – a dusky man, impeccably dressed in a shiny white suit – complete with white tie, white shirt, and sparkling white shoes. He casually tosses a golden apple between his dark-skinned hands.

Ranma's eyes narrow dangerously. "Who are you?" she repeats.

"I am an echo, a reflection, cascading ripples in a dirty pool, a broken image of false proclamation," the stranger in white answers, smirking. He catches the bright yellow apple in his left hand and slides off the air-conditioning unit.

an echo, a whisper, a sound that only you can hear, we whisper whisper whisper into your ears, your fears. meow.

Ranma starts skittishly. Did she hear something? Someone else? A c-c-... She nervously glances around.

The slender stranger slips away and strolls to the building's crumbling parapet, absently rolling the apple between his long fingers. "I am a dream, fantasy forged in burning desires, empty embers, lost to the fires, fading quickly," he continues poetically.

a dream, serene. A scream! A nightmare!

Ranma jerks, eyes panning, searching, scanning behind her, finding only darkness. She heard... no, she felt... brushing at her mind, a shiver down her spine. But there is no voice. There is no sound. There is nobody else around.

The dark man overlooks the silent city, standing quietly, gazing at the stars beyond the horizon. After a moment, he adds, "I am illusion, cast by your mind, a vain attempt to capture truth, a picture painted by the blind." He lifts the apple to his lips, as though to take a bite, but halts. He glances back at Ranma and adds, "In any case, you should not be asking who I am when you don't even know who you are."

Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?

Ranma's breath quickens. She lifts a hand to her chest; the amulet is there, hard and cold against her skin. She clutches at it through her shirt, seeking its comfort, seeking its protection... but it has none to offer.

Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?

"I am...-" Ranma starts haltingly, unsure how to finish the sentence. Her eyes blur. Her head swims. Possible answers materialize and fade away, dying before she can fully realize them. I am she who dances before fires in a forest of ash. I'm a martial artist, master of my body. I am death and rebirth, dusk and dawn, light and shadow, the twilight goddess, holy mother of her people. I'm- I'm- I'm-... Ranma struggles. Her mind grasps an image – Hermione yelling, hands on hips, indignant.I'm impudent imp, brazen brat, obnoxious twit, good cook, great looks, lots of wit, sister to Hermione, friend to Kathryn and Audrey, holy terror of the Headwings orchestra. I'm Andhera. "I'm Ranma!"

Her name echoes, crashing throughout the somber city, silencing the whispers.

"A name, Andhera?" the swarthy stranger laughs scornfully. He turns towards her. His face displays mild disappointment. "A name is not who you are. A name is an answer to an entirely different question."

Ranma focuses on the man in front of her. "Fine, then," she growls caustically. "What is your name?"

"My name?" The man gives a wide, toothy smile – a Cheshire grin shining through the night. "I have so many, and you once knew them all. Perhaps, though, you have forgotten? In that case, I forgive you. It's easy to forget, Andhera. We both know how fragile memories can be – how they can be forgotten, escaping the mind like smoke between fingers; manipulated, putty in the hands of misplaced trust; stolen like words from an open diary, or shredded with a whisper. They can even be sealed."

... locked away, blocked away ...

Ranma's visage darkens and she averts her eyes. "Go away!" she demands petulantly.

"No."

Ranma snarls then abruptly turns and leaps from the building. She flies through the air to the next... where, upon approach, she can make out broken remnants of an air-conditioning unit, concrete debris, crumbling parapets, a severed stump of antenna, and the sinister stranger who claims to have many names.

"Change of plans?" the madman mocks as Ranma lands. "Did you miss me?"

"What do you want?" Ranma snaps.

The man smirks. "I want you to look at this mirror and tell me what you see," the man says, bowing slightly, stepping aside, apple in hand and arms spread wide. Behind him stands a full-length mirror, facing Ranma.

Ranma unconsciously fixes her hair and picks at her clothes as she gazes into the mirror. After making those fine adjustments, she tersely says, "I see me."

"Is that all?" the man sneers. "How truly narcissistic..."

Ranma casts her fierce, piercing eyes in his direction but refrains from sniping. She turns and examines the mirror further then clarifies, "I see the stars and the sky, the ground beneath me and the antenna behind me, the wispy clouds and crescent moon, the silent city's foggy gloom... and I see me."

"And yet you don't see the mirror standing directly in front of you?" the man asks.

Ranma glowers.

"Tell me, Andhera, is it yourself that you see in this mirror? Or is it an image of yourself?"

"An image," Ranma grumps begrudgingly.

The man gestures; arm and apple sweep across the horizon. "And when you gaze upon the stars, the sky, the ground, the antenna..." He trails off and approaches the tall metal shaft. "Do you see this antenna, or do you see an image of it?"

Ranma eyes the antenna warily. Was it even there a moment before? Did she not throw it from the rooftop earlier? But her memory is fuzzy, muddled, confused... Maybe this is a different building. She remembers jumping. Maybe it has been there all along. But rather than answering, Ranma digs in her heels and folds her arms. "I have already told you what I saw in the mirror. Now, go away. I don't want you here. I don't want to answer your questions. I just want to wake up and go home."

The man chuckles – hollow laughter in the sordid air. "Do you believe you are dreaming?" he asks. "Do you believe it even matters?"

Ranma glares at him, stubbornly refusing to answer.

Crunch! The man bites into his golden treat and chews slowly, savoring every morsel – honey-sweet, tart, crisp; just watching is enough to make Ranma salivate. As he chews, he gazes at the stars, but after he swallows, he looks over at Ranma as though noticing her for the first time. "Oh, pardon me," he says. "It's terribly rude of me to eat in front of you like that. Would you like one?" He reaches into his white jacket with his dark hand and withdraws another bright yellow apple. He offers it to Ranma. "You know what they say – an apple today might keep the doctor away."

Ranma's mouth quickly dries and she backs up a step, shaking her head, No. She eyes the apple warily.

"Oh, well, maybe later, then," the man says, pocketing the extra apple. He takes another bite of his own before speaking. "You don't have to answer my questions, Andhera. But why not? Are you afraid to do so? Are you afraid of me? Is that why you ran away earlier?"

"I don't trust you," Ranma states.

"With good reason, I'm sure," the man says, grinning. "But I haven't asked you anything personal; this isn't the sort of question that requires your trust. That is, unless you don't trust your own answer."

"You've asked personal questions," Ranma snarls. "You asked me who I am!"

"No, I didn't," the man replies smoothly. "I only said that you don't know who you are." He gestures to the antenna again. "So, tell me. Do you see an antenna, or an image of one?"

Ranma stares at him for a long moment, then stalks over to the antenna and kicks it, snapping it at its base. It clangs and clatters against the ground and rolls away. "It's the antenna," she concludes.

"What makes you so sure, Andhera? Because it can be felt, heard, seen? All are possible in a dream. According to your sciences, light bounces from objects in the so-called real world and enters your eyes, creating electrochemical nerve impulses that propagate to the brain. Ultimately, the brain interprets these signals, creating a representation of the given information, then projects an image of what you believe you see back out into the world. Thus, even by your own sciences, everything you see is an image. Your entire world is merely a projection of your mind."

"Huh?" Ranma asks.

"The world you see is an illusion, spun by your mind. What you see, what you hear, what you feel, have no bearing on what is real... supposing real even exists."

Ranma frowns. "If it's just an illusion created by my mind, then why can't I make you go away?"

"Can you make a nightmare go away?" the man asks contemptuously. "Can you control every detail of your dreams? You could be dreaming this entire world."

"This world isn't my dream! I am not the Red King!"

"Blind denial is unbecoming of you, Andhera," the man states. Crunch! He takes another bite from the crisp golden apple, and chews silently, as though waiting for a response. When none comes he swallows and asks, "Do you have a reason for that statement, or is it just an irrational declaration?"

Ranma scowls. "There are lots of reasons," she says.

Crunch. Chew. Chew. Chew.

"Well, I'm waiting."

"There's no possible way mymind is big enough to handle every little detail in the world," Ranma says. "I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning... and I made that myself."

"Who says you are detailing the entire world, Andhera? In a story, do things happen if the author doesn't write about them? In a dream, do things exist if you aren't experiencing them? Just as an author can write a story without describing every little event, you can dream a world without conceiving every little detail."

"Well, I never would have thought of the silly argument you're making right now," Ranma says, frowning with a rare expression of thoughtfulness. "And that's right in front of me. Further, since you're bringing up authors, what about books? Where does the information come from if I don't know it?"

"Your error, Andhera, lies in your assumption that your mind is somehow separate from the world you see when, in fact, the opposite is true. All that you see, hear, touch, taste is part of your mind. What you see of this apple, for example, is part of you." Crunch! The man takes a hearty bite from the fleshy fruit.

"That's only true if there is no real world!" Ranma argues. "If there's a real world, then things exist outside of my mind."

"Since you seem so fixated on the idea, perhaps you can explain what a real world is?"

"It's the real world, of course!" Ranma answers.

The stranger stares at her, calmly.

"It's not fake," Ranma clarifies, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Yes, I suppose that would be true, though meaninglessly circular," the man states. "Perhaps, by real world, you mean a world that is not merely a construct of your own mind."

"Yeah. That," Ranma agrees enthusiastically.

"Then you are correct. If there is a real world, then, by definition, things must exist outside of your mind. You are, however, once again being circular and meaningless."

Ranma's gaze drops back to the ground.

"There is no reason to believe that there is a real world. Even if there is one, there is no reason to believe it is in any way associated with your perceptions. You can't see it. You can't taste it. You can't, in any way, prove it exists. Your perceptions are ultimately internal to your mind," the man adds in his baritone resonance. "Even supposing your hypothetical real world could affect your mind, it remains impossible to determine those effects."

"That doesn't mean it isn't there," Ranma counters.

"True," the man replies. "But how would you ever know?"

Ranma turns to gaze at the stars, brows knit in thought. Eventually, she answers, "Dreams aren't very... consistent. Like a surgical bed might suddenly have a lever that wasn't there a moment before, and by pulling it the bed will throw you like a catapult, then you somehow end up in the catacombs, even if you don't remember flying anywhere. The real world, however, is consistent," Ranma finishes.

"Oh? And by what measuring stick do you determine a real world to be... consistent? Your memory?" the stranger asks, leaning against the antenna. "We've already discussed that. Besides, you're once again talking about this real world as if it's a place you've seen. But, as we've already discussed, that's impossible. You cannot prove observations of a real world, therefore you cannot know what qualities a real world might possess. If a real world exists, consistency may or may not be one of its attributes."

"Whatever," Ranma snorts, turning away from the parapet. "The real world is the one in which I live. All that stuff you said is just a theory."

"It's a philosophy, actually," the man corrects.

"Well, I don't like your philosophy. Now, go away."

"No."

"Why not? I've answered your questions."

"Earlier, you told me that you wish to wake up and go home. I'm waiting for you to wake up," the man says. "I do wonder what it looks like."

Ranma glares.

"Maybe going to sleep would work better? Since you're now saying that the real world is the one you live in, perhaps you're simply too awake to be experiencing it," the man offers, licking his fingers after swallowing the last of the tart, yellow apple.

Ranma glares harder.

"Or, perhaps, you could simply will this world as you wish it. It's your illusion, after all."

Ranma stares at him for a moment, and her eyes narrow, but rather than returning the jibe, she turns and leans against the crumbling parapet and gazes into the abyss of roiling fog in the streets below. The gray mist encroaches the overflowing dumpster, floods around the dark lamp posts, flows over a shattered phone booth, and hides everything as far as she can see. As she peers into the abandoned city, its stillness, its morbid silence... presses upon her. She concentrates, willing it all away. The foggy gloom remains.

"Okay, I've tried. It didn't work," Ranma says, breaking the silence.

She receives no response.

Ranma returns her eyes to the rooftop. The stranger is gone. The mirror, however, is still there, and Ranma finds her eyes drawn to it. It reflects the wispy clouds and crescent moon. It reflects stars – a meager dozen that twinkle above the skies of London and a sea of electric stars that shine from below. Ranma turns swiftly. Rivers of headlights flow along distant roads. Shouts resound from a nearby alley. The fog is gone, the stillness filled, and the silence shattered.

Ranma turns, quickly scanning the rooftop once more. She no longer sees the mirror. The air-conditioning unit is shattered, and the broken antenna lies on the ground – right where she kicked it. Everything is as it should be. Happily, she trots across the roof to investigate the shouting from the alley-side of the building.

When she peers over the parapet, her visage darkens, and she leaps.

-oOo-

Audrey shivers. It isn't particularly cold – in fact, the weather is humid and warm – but she shivers anyway. "We shouldn't be doing this," she murmurs.

Audrey walks beside Kathryn. The dim glow of sputtering street lamps and twinkling starlight in the dead sky is insufficient to light their path. The children walk in darkness, trudging from one narrow patch of light to another. The alleys are black pits carved between the buildings, and the buildings themselves are gutted monoliths, looming silently above.

"Of course we should. Ranma needs our support!" Kathryn declares, peering through her shiny, brass field-omnioculars.

Audrey scrutinizes a nearby alley, but her eyes are unable to penetrate the deep, opaque shadows. She steps closer to Kathryn. "Let's go home," she whines. "We can give her our support tomorrow."

"But we're almost there! She jumped from this building to that building a few minutes ago!" Kathryn exclaims, pointing from one tenebrous tower to another further down the road.

"You've been saying we're almost there all night," Audrey accuses. "And what do you mean a few minutes ago? According to that thing, the sun is still setting."

"Heh, heh. Well, the slow-motion feature doesn't come with a clock," Kathryn says. "Besides, we can't go home."

Audrey frowns at her friend. "Don't tell me you don't know the way."

Kathryn gazes at her friend for several seconds before grinning. "Don't worry, Audrey," she advises. "Ranma knows the way!"

Audrey groans.

For a while, the two head further into the darkness, the ominous silence swallowing their conversation. A low, almost inaudible rumbling of a train passing beneath them, and their own footsteps are the only sounds. A black shadow darts across the ground. Audrey stifles a shriek and presses herself against Kathryn. The two walk on.

Kathryn stops and again peers through the enchanted lenses, briefly twiddling brass knobs before dropping them and continuing their quest. The omnioculars sway at her chest, hanging from a thin leather strap, glinting what little light is available.

The two walk on, crossing into and beyond the warm circle cast by yet another electric lamp.

"We're going to be in so much trouble when we get home..." Audrey utters, glancing nervously into the dark alleys. She peers into the hollow windows of an abandoned building and shivers.

Kathryn suddenly raises an arm, barring Audrey's path.

"Don't you dare say I sound like Hermione," Audrey hisses, glaring at her friend.

"Hush," Kathryn whispers, looking spooked. Kathryn scans around, searching the dusty, broken windows, and dark alleys.

Panes of grimy glass lie against the base of a building, looking as though they were ordered to replace those broken windows but the effort to install them has long been abandoned. Refuse, garbage, discarded construction materials, and broken glass spill from a dark alley, displaying months or even years of neglect. An unlit phone booth sits across the street under a shattered lamp.

But, whatever Kathryn is looking for, she doesn't find it. "I thought I heard... I felt... something," Kathryn explains quietly, lowering her arm.

Audrey grabs Kathryn's hand before it escapes. She shudders. Her breath quickens. She feels it too – a growing sensation of dread welling within her gut. The sputtering lights buzz and flicker, barely lighting the trashy pavement. She searches, peering reluctantly into the shrouds of shadow. A flash! A face? No, it is but a pile of garbage, a hideous visage, an illusion of light and child's imagination. But she feels it. She feels creepy... dirty. Someone... something malevolent is watching. She feels its eyes on her neck, sweeping up her spine.

Audrey squeezes Kathryn's hand and whispers, "Let's get out of here."

Crash! Tinkle tinkle tinkle. The sound of shattering glass pierces the silence like a knife.

Audrey jumps, and Kathryn whirls, seeking the source of the sound.

"Aroooooooo!" A howl sounds from a nearby alley. Two more howls soon join it, emerging from shattered windows high in the looming buildings. "Arr arr Aroooooooooo!"

Kathryn wheels about. "Who's there!" she cries.

Crash! A flash of green splashes against the dark pavement.

Kathryn and Audrey flinch, recoiling away, as green glass splinters pepper their legs, drawing thin lines of blood.

A broken bottleneck twirls across the ground before coming to a stop at their feet.

Howling, cackling laughter peels from the shadows of one shattered window, soon joined by a dry chuckle from the alley.

A young man with spiky blue hair steps from the dark alley into the street, his eyes shining crimson in the dim light. "Aroooo," he says casually. He stands there, then takes an exaggerated swig from a green bottle, bottoms up towards the sky. Then, with a single motion, he flings the bottle faster than the girls' eyes can follow.

Whoop. Whoop. The bottle spins and hums rapidly through the air, buzzing between the girls' ears. Crash! Tinkle, tinkle – it shatters violently against a nearby wall.

The blue-haired boy grins widely, revealing a pair of slightly elongated canines.

Kathryn and Audrey step back.

Thump. Thump. The sounds rise from behind the girls. A quick glance reveals two more shadowy boys, each wearing a similar predatory smile.

Audrey clutches Kathryn's hand, tightly. Kathryn winces as her bruised fingers grind into each other, but returns a comforting squeeze in reassurance... though, inside, she has no assurance to offer.

"Imagine – two little girls, alone, in a place like this," the first boy says, chuckling as he slowly approaches them. "And just when I was looking for a snack, too. There must really be a god." He casts his eyes towards the skies. "Thanks."

"I say we play with them, first," a voice hisses into Audrey's ear. Standing with his face next to hers, is a pierced boy. He has long, black hair, a handsome face, and eyes the color of dried blood. His pierced tongue slides a full hand's length from his mouth, gyrates a bit, then licks towards Audrey's cheek, causing her to cringe away. His earrings and nose-ring glitter in the faint light.

"I say we carve them up, after," cackles another, running a knife blade lightly under Kathryn's chin. He is burly, larger than the other two, and his eyes glint orange-brown.

Kathryn jerks away, pulling Audrey with her. "Get away from us!" she yells.

"Or what?" the blue-haired boy jeers. "You'll... scream? Go ahead. Nobody will hear you."

The pierced boy grins, then his hand lashes out and he jerks Audrey towards him.

Audrey screams. Her hand is torn from Kathryn's. She is thrown violently towards the ground, where she tries to stop herself with an out-flung arm. She strikes the pavement on her side. The screaming stops. She doesn't move from where she lands.

The pierced boy steps over Audrey and kneels down, reaching for her skirt.

"Don't touch her!" Kathryn shouts, charging forward. She feels a large hand grasp her right arm from behind... and, almost without thinking, she snatches the hand, lowers her elbow, pushes, pulls, and rotates. Crunch. Thump. The burly man hits the ground. Free of the attempted capture, Kathryn lunges forward, throwing a straight punch into the pierced boy's nose. Her fist grinds his nose-ring into his face, causing him to stumble away from Audrey.

"She broke my effin' wrist!" the burly boy yells, clutching his right hand. His knife has skittered across the pavement.

Kathryn holds her own swelling wrist and bleeding knuckles, hissing between clenched teeth and blinking away tears of pain. But adrenaline soon shoves the pain aside.

The pierced boy stands, wipes his bloody nose, and glowers at her hatefully. "You'll pay for that, bitch." He licks the blood off his hand, still glaring at her.

Kathryn stares back, defiantly. She raises her fists.

"Look out," Audrey wheezes weakly, finally stirring from her position on the ground.

"Huh?" Kathryn asks, glancing at Audrey.

Slam! The blue-haired boy's boot crashes into Kathryn's back. Kathryn flies through the air like a rag doll before smashing through several grimy glass panes and into the wall behind them. She flops to the ground, jagged shards of glass cascading upon her, slicing into her flesh from above and below.

"All carved up now, eh, little girl?" howls the burly boy, sweeping up his knife and standing.

The blue-haired boy gazes at the growing pool of red trickling from under the pile of glass. He sneers. "What a waste."

The pierced boy laughs, flashing his fangs, and is about to speak when a dainty foot lands on his head and shoves it crashing into the pavement. Bloody teeth go flying, clattering across the ground... including his two proud fangs.

The red-haired angel hops lightly off the head, braid bobbing behind her. She casts her gaze across the other two boys, then whirls into a spin. Her leg lances out, catching the knife-wielding boy full in the chest. The larger boy stumbles back, lashing out ineffectually with his knife. The girl catches the knife-hand at its full extension and slams her arm across his elbow. Crack.

Boom!

The blue-haired boy stands with a smoking pistol pointed at his burly knife-wielding friend.

Ranma drops her improvised shield and glares at the blue-haired boy. Her hand flickers, and a blade flashes through the air. Thunk. It embeds itself deep into the blue-haired boy's neck.

The blue-haired boy lifts a hand and touches the knife. He gurgles. He gives Ranma one last wide-eyed look then turns tail and flees.

Ranma walks over to Audrey and offers a hand to help her up.

"Kathryn," Audrey says weakly, trying to stand on her own. She points a shaky hand at her injured friend.

Ranma is there in an instant, her hands darting out at impossible speeds, lifting loose glass fragments from Kathryn's dying body. With the obstructions removed, the injuries become apparent. Lacerations cover her arms and legs. A large cut runs from her forehead to her cheek, across her left eye. Several large, jagged shards of grimy glass cut deeply into her flesh. Ranma isn't sure whether those should be disturbed. Blood is everywhere, soaking her clothes, burbling from a deep cut in Kathryn's thigh, trickling across the ground, on Ranma's hands... coating everything in its sticky, pungent redness.

Ranma's heart leaps and falls. Kathryn is breathing. Kathryn is alive. But her blood, her life, is flowing from her wounds... especially her leg... Ranma needs to do something now to save her, or Kathryn will die.

Ranma wracks her mind. What can she do? What can she do! Ideas and lessons float through her mind – snatches of anatomy class and the basics of first aid lessons she doesn't remember having. Direct pressure? Ranma would need more limbs than an octopus. Tourniquets? Kathryn could lose her limbs. A pressure point? Pressure points! Vaguely recalling her research project in anatomy of two years ago, and suppressing her embarrassment, Ranma reaches up Kathryn's skirt and presses a finger to the inside of her thigh. She squeezes hard – hard enough to hurt, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to squeeze Kathryn's femoral artery against her femur and cut blood flow to the damaged limb. It works. The bleeding from the many wounds on Kathryn's left leg slows to a dribble. Gaining a little confidence, and continuing to hold the femoral pressure point, Ranma's free hand begins wandering across Kathryn's body, pressing various other points – head, shoulder, heart, and neck... to no immediate effect.

A movement catches Ranma's eye – the burly knife-boy has stood up from where he previously fell to a gunshot wound. How is he alive? The boy groans and stands, and with an audible crunch he shifts his broken arm back into place, then lets it drop to hang limply at his side. The boy cackles aloud, an insane, howling laughter, then looks around with his orange-red eyes... and when those eyes meet Ranma's, Ranma glares at him. The boy positively scrambles away, muttering something about blue-haired berks mocking God, and not even noticing that he almost bowls over Audrey. When he's gone, Ranma just returns to her ministrations.

"We were looking for you," Audrey starts to explain, having managed to limp over to Ranma. "Kathryn wanted to... Kathryn was trying to help," she adds, attempting to choke down her tears.

"Tell me this is a dream," Ranma says softly, eyes fixed on Kathryn. "Tell me... Tell me this is a nightmare."

"I- I can't," Audrey sobs. She squats down, carefully avoiding the piles of glass, and tentatively, hesitantly, reaches out to touch Kathryn, as though the attempt might break her... though which of the two girls it might break remains uncertain. Audrey's hand hovers over her friend without quite touching. Tears stream down her face.

For a while, neither of the girls speak. Ranma finally decides to take action on a glass shard, carefully removing it from Kathryn's left arm. Ranma then quickly tears a strip from Kathryn's skirt and uses it to bandage the wound.

"She's still alive," Ranma says.

Audrey's head swivels to face Ranma. Her eyes widen in blossoming hope.

"She's still alive – she's still breathing," Ranma continues, as though attempting to convince herself. "I can save her. We can save her. But this bleeding...- She's lost so much blood... too much blood. We need to get her to a hospital right away."

Audrey stands, wobbles a bit, and wipes her snot and tears on her sleeve. She clenches her fist against the throbbing pain in her skinned hand and damaged wrist. Somewhat shakily, she declares, "I'll go call an ambulance."

"No!" Ranma barks, barely giving Audrey a glance. Her attention is focused on Kathryn, over whom her hand still darts, pressing a point here, two points there, stretching as far as the redhead's tiny hand can manage.

Audrey stares at Ranma with growing frustration. "But there's a phone booth just across the street!" she protests.

Ranma glances across the street and sees the unlit phone booth sitting under a shattered lamp. Then she turns her frustrated visage towards Audrey. She nods once. "Hurry," she says. "But don't leave my sight. I...-" Ranma trails off and turns to face her charge. "Just hurry," she insists.

Audrey runs. Pain... Pain lances up her legs with each awkward step, but she manages a half-loping half-limping gait on her sprained ankle and bruised bones. Leap. Oww. Limp. Oww. Her ankle twists under her and she stumbles to the ground. Her hands and knees are throbbing fire, skinned upon the grimy asphalt. Hissing through her teeth, she stoically stands and continues to run.

Audrey reaches the phone booth, and what she sees makes her heart fall. The wires are cut. The glass is shattered. The receiver is nowhere to be seen.

Searching along the road, she sees a lit phone booth just a few blocks down the street. She is tempted to run to it, despite her condition, but she remembers Ranma's request... don't leave my sight. Audrey looks to where Ranma is struggling valiantly to keep Kathryn alive, currently with one hand on her abdomen and the other up her skirt. Feeling sick with frustration and worry and her own very real pain, Audrey half-lopes and half-limps back.

Ranma glances at her. "Is an ambulance on its way?" she asks, sounding desperate.

Audrey is about to answer, but what she notices behind Ranma has her panicking. "Ranma!" she cries.

The pierced boy stirs, then rises groggily to his feet and touches his gums where his fangs used to be. He then examines his tongue... which is now missing its tip. He fixes Ranma and Audrey with a menacing crimson-eyed scowl. "You'll pay for this!" he growls with a sibilant hiss. "And your blood will heal me." Still shaking off the last vestiges of his prior injuries, he trudges towards the girls.

"Crap," Ranma says in summary of the situation. She glances briefly at her occupied hands, then at Audrey, then at the pierced boy... then she blurs into action.

A dozen large, jagged shards of grimy glass fly like shuriken towards the approaching man. He panics a moment, then crosses his arms to guard his face and neck.

Audrey, with an awkward jerk, finds herself falling towards Kathryn. Her right hand lands against Kathryn's abdomen atop the wound that Ranma was pressing a moment ago; Ranma holds it there with a certain pressure. A leg captures Audrey's fall and lowers her body gently to the ground – which is suddenly vacant of the dozen large jagged shards of grimy glass she expected to fall upon. Ranma finally grabs her other hand, forcibly extends her fingers, then jabs them into Kathryn's thigh with almost enough force to make them hurt.

"Hold that pressure, especially on the thigh, or there's no question – Kathryn will die," Ranma warns before parting.

Audrey holds the pressure for all she is worth. Examining Kathryn's body, she notices that most of the bleeding from the limbs has already slowed to a crawl. All accessible pieces of glass are already removed, and the worst of the gashes already wrapped in bloody bandages formed from Kathryn's skirt. But whether the lack of bleeding is a good thing or a really bad thing is up to question – all bleeding stops... eventually. Further, she can't even tell whether her best friend is still breathing, despite having a hand on her abdomen – Kathryn might already be dead. No! Audrey banishes the thought. She isn't dead yet. She can't be dead yet. Ranma knows what she is doing, and she said that Kathryn is still alive. Ranma will save her. Just keep pressing this point on Kathryn's thigh, and keep holding this cloth on her abdomen, and she will live. She will live.

While Audrey becomes absorbed in handling Kathryn, Ranma turns to face the attacker.

Ranma lets her gaze drop to observe the results of her previous attack. "I like your new piercings," she says darkly. Her eyes rise to meet those of the pierced boy. They are dangerous.

The pierced boy doesn't notice. Instead, he looks down to see his newest body decorations – grimy, grotesque, unprofessionally done – glass shards embedded deep into his belly. The boy gives the small girl a murderous stare. "Die, bitch!" he growls, then he leaps forward, fist drawn back to perform a massive haymaker.

Ranma steps forward to meet him and her leg rises in a blurring arc from his groin to his neck, accompanied by the dull sound of glass shattering inside flesh. Then she twists – a mere flicker of motion – and her opposite leg lashes out.

Boom! The pierced boy strikes the wall with a resounding thump. Fist-sized chunks of concrete fall from the impact crater as the boy sloughs to the ground. But he catches himself on his feet. Cough! Cough! Blood speckles the ground below him. The boy's hand wraps itself around the nearest object, and he rises. "Now it's my turn," he growls, blood dribbling from one corner of his mouth. He hefts the pipe and rushes in.

Ranma glances back towards Kathryn. Audrey holds the leg tightly, paying no attention to the melee behind her. Whoosh! Ranma casually leans to the side, allowing the pipe to whiz by her. Whoosh! She ducks under another strike. "Pathetic," she utters. Her leg explodes, sweeping across the pierced boy's knee. Crack! He crashes, spinning towards the ground, then – wham! – Ranma brings her other leg slicing upwards into his jaw. It strikes with a sickening pop and sends him spinning in the opposite direction. Clang, clang – the boy's pipe bounces off the ground, released from limp fingers. Ranma spins swiftly, snatching the pipe as she fires a kick into his sternum, which buckles beneath her foot.

The boy rockets away and impacts the wall with another thunderous bang. Thwang! The pipe penetrates his belly and pins him to the concrete surface several meters above the alley.

"And stay there!" Ranma shouts in frustration.

For a moment, the boy complies... not moving at all. Then he convulses and coughs, shakes the cobwebs from his head, snaps his jaw into place with an audible click, and spits a mouthful of blood to the ground. He casts another murderous stare. With a shove, he slides off the pole and drops several meters to the alley below, where he staggers on his injured leg. Blood dribbles from the visible hole in his belly; shredded guts and broken glass threaten to spill out. "I won't go down so easily," he chokes.

"Are you stupid?" Ranma snaps. "You can't even hit me!"

"I will have my revenge!" the pierced boy shouts, hefting an I-beam above his head. He holds the beam parallel to the ground, reaching almost from one side of the narrow alley to the other. With a heave, he throws it, but his injured leg twists under the weight.

The massive beam bounces off an alley wall, leaving a nasty divot in the hard concrete. It twirls through the air, ricochets off the ground, changes course, and flies past Ranma towards Kathryn and Audrey.

Panicking, Ranma chases the support beam. She leaps ahead of it; her feet land on either side of Kathryn's head, and with a reverberating slap she sends the steel girder twirling safely overhead. It crashes into a building opposite the street, breaking a large window, sending glass clattering to the ground.

Audrey gasps, startled, but renews her concentration. "Hurry, Ranma," she utters softly.

Ranma nods resolutely, then gives the pierced boy her own murderous glare. "I don't have time for playing around," she says darkly.

"You don't even know how to hurt me," the pierced boy sneers, darkness beginning to flicker around him. "But I – oof!"

Snap! Crackle! Pop! Slam! Wham! Crunch! Stomp. Stomp. Ranma grinds her heel into the pierced boy's neck, pulverizing the bones. Then she rears back her leg...

Clang! The pierced boy strikes the dumpster like a sack of flour. He is limp, crushed, with limbs twisted to impossible angles and spears of bone extruding from his mass... more resembling a puddle than a person.

"You were saying?" Ranma inquires of the broken bag of flesh. She turns on her bloody heel and heads back to her friends.

Ranma squats down beside Audrey and gives a cursory examination of Kathryn. Satisfied, Ranma asks, "How much longer before the ambulance arrives?"

Audrey is silent and a few tears grow in her eyes. "I wasn't... wasn't able to call," she sobs. "Kathryn... Kathryn will... because of me, because I couldn't... The phone... You said not to!" Her hands quiver but remain in place. "The phone was broken and I couldn't call. I couldn't call."

Ranma frowns and examines Kathryn's leg a moment longer. Schooling her voice, she says, "It's okay. You did the right thing. We'll just find a different phone. We'll call... and Kathryn...-"

A metal groan tears through the night, low and shrill, instantly gaining Ranma's attention.

Shrouded in shadows, the broken boy's eyes glow dull red. Dozens of objects float above him – broken wood, lengths of rebar, shards of glass, a rusty can of dried paint, and more. Even the dumpster floats a meter above the ground, straining under its load.

The boy manages to twitch his head a little, allowing blood to flow from his mouth to the ground. "I am invincible!" he rasps. "Behold the true power of a vampire!" His eyes flash brighter, then, all at once, the objects begin flying towards the girls, with the dumpster meandering behind, hiding the boy from view.

Ranma leaps to her feet and begins slapping the objects aside, quickly deflecting shards of glass and chunks of concrete. She grabs a plank of wood to bat even more projectiles away. However, even those she knocks to the ground rise again and approach the girls. She stares with consternation at the approaching dumpster, and continues her efforts.

"Ack," Audrey gasps in pain and rocks forward, struck in the shoulder by the rusty paint can. Blood wells between the fingers of her right hand as she attempts to place it back on Kathryn's belly. "Ranma!" she wails.

"You're a vampire, huh?" Ranma shouts, clearing the immediate debris with a few quick sweeps. With a quick snap, she breaks the plank into halves, and a quick chop-chop sharpens the ends. "Then I know your weakness!" she yells. She drops to the ground and hurls the spikes under the floating dumpster.

The pierced boy's glowing eyes widen as he sees the redhead briefly peek below the dumpster and launch something in his direction – a spike of wood. His eyes narrow, he concentrates, he succeeds! The spike halts several meters from him. Thwump! "Huh?" he rasps. His neck twitches and his eyes trail down. Between jutting bones, a second shaft of wood penetrates his chest. "Oh, crap..." he utters.

Poof! He's dust.

The projectiles fall, clattering to the pavement, and Ranma tosses aside the length of rebar that had replaced her wooden plank. The dumpster lands with a thunderous thump and a shrill groan; it grinds to a halt just meters from the girls. It begins tipping over, but Ranma immediately rushes in and pushes it upright. One nasty, rotting sack of... something... falls from the noxious mound and splats against the ground. Putrid fluid and chunks of rancid meat ooze from a break in the bag.

Ranma carefully steps over it, resisting a sudden urge to vomit. She stops near Kathryn and Audrey.

"Is he dead?" Audrey asks, a hard tone in her voice.

"Yes," Ranma answers after a long pause. Her own voice is detached, clinical. "We need to move Kathryn now. You've done a good job." Ranma rips one of her pant-legs free, and quickly wraps it around Kathryn's thigh, tying a tight tourniquet with her strong arms. "You can let go of the leg now," Ranma states dully. "But you'll need to keep the pressure on her abdomen as we walk."

Audrey nods with determination and places both hands against Kathryn's abdomen as Ranma carefully lifts the girl.

The two of them walk into the night.

-oOo-

Nine-nine-nine, Ranma pounds into the phone. She holds the receiver to her ear for a long moment, then clearly states, "Ambulance." Another long pause... then Ranma squints under the white, electric light at the signs denoting the nearest street corner. "Yeah, that's where we are. ... Two injured girls, but only one in need of urgent attention. ... I'm eleven. ... My name is Ranma. ... No, my mother isn't here. ... Yes, she's breathing. Yes, she's bleeding, but I've slowed it down. No, she isn't conscious." Ranma turns to look at Kathryn, whom Audrey is attending closely by still applying pressure to the abdomen. "Umm... -

"- massive blood loss due to fourteen lacerations. Most of those are currently controlled by bandaging, but there is one cut into her left eye and an abdominal wound that is still bleeding, though controlled by direct pressure. Her left leg suffered a cut to its femoral artery, and I was forced to apply a tourniquet. She might still have some glass in her body. Her back is broken between her second and third lumbar vertebrae, and exacerbated – we had to move her from the scene. She also suffers minor fractures in her left hand and arm, and a concussion of unknown proportions.

"... Yes, I'm really eleven. Now hurry up and get an ambulance over here!" Click. Ranma places the phone back onto its hook.