Hell is a Martial Artist

by Ozzallos

When the Grand Demoness of Hell finds a new play toy, she gets more than she bargained for with Ranma Saotome, gender cursed heir of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts.

10. Chapter 9, Part 2

Hell is a Martial Artist
Chapter 9, Part 2

By Ozzallos

The district of Roppongi in lower Tokyo was busy... Busy with sin.

For the Hild, Queen of the Damned, it was business and business was good. She strode through the throng of tourist and evening party goers as if she owned the very ground they walked upon. They, in turn, unconsciously parted for the ruler of hell and her charge, one redheaded martial arts heir who hardly looked like a martial arts heir at the moment. Regardless of their respective titles or gender of the moment, both were playing the part of female bombshells and the attention riveted to their persons was quite deserved.

Hild herself was, of course, the least conservatively dressed of the pair. Her current fashion consisted of a long suede trench coat and skirt, though the proverbial devil was in the details since she couldn't wear just a trench coat and skirt. It was the way she wore it, which was to say as minimalistic as possible. The high collared suede coat itself remained nominally unbuttoned with nothing underneath, bound only by a leather waist cincher that wrapped around her generous curves which barely concealed her well developed charms; the rest flowing around her like a dress. The knee high skirt that followed was a lighter metallic blue that flexed with every movement...

…Movement her redheaded counterpart reproduced as only a martial arts master could hope to achieve. Ranma had indeed escaped the clutches of Asakusa's minions, but not before her entire person had been reduced to unwitting mass of relaxed jelly through a series of massages, rubs and shampoos. By that point, the blue eyed girl didn't even care that she was receiving a pedicure, manicure and full facial. A light pass of make-up followed, prompting a minor protest, then the fitting. When it was said and done, she had looked in the mirror and knew what everybody around her was staring at. The gown itself was a shimmering black silk, subtly embroidered with a deep crimson weave that only became visible at the right angle in the right light. The design wound its way around her body, taking on a quintessential Chinese motif of clouds and smoke while trace gold highlights helped the eye to follow any curve not revealed to the naked eye.

In some ways, it was slightly more conservative than Hild's dress, but only marginally since it gave everybody free license to stare at the strapless heart of her bust line that swayed with almost as much freedom as her patron's. The whole of her back was likewise left to the open evening air all the way down to the small of her back, where upon the dress once again took to the task of wrapping itself around her hips and down to her shimmering black stilettos she wore. Each purposeful stride, however, revealed the gown's thigh high slit that in turned revealed her left leg, which melted in and out of the black silk curtain as she walked.

For anybody else, the incessant staring of passing crowd might have been too much. Ranma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts wasn't quite anybody else. Being raised as her father's son had ensured that the girl walking along side Hild had little to no concept of feminine modesty in any way that mattered. Being programmed from the day she could walk to quite literally be the best in anything that mattered only ensured that she would take this particular challenge head on. Even worse, she knew just how good she looked; staring at herself an hour ago in the mirror had made that fact absolutely clear. She had barely been able to take her own eyes of her own reflection and now for every man that passed out, for every geyser of blood that erupted along their path, her confidence was only fueled that much more. Like her art she took what she needed and in turn took ruthless, unmerciful advantage of what the curse had gifted her with two long years ago.

Ranma's only real protest had come with the accessorizing of the outfit, thought even then she had to admit that they only enhanced the already exotic qipao. There was the matching black silk ruffles that wound around her neck in a collar. The sparkling golden peacock feather clip earrings inlaid with sapphires and a similarly bejeweled anklet. The delicate gold slave bracelet coiled around Ranma's middle finger insisted upon by Reiko hadn't gone without protest either, but she acceded to that in the end as well. She fingered the unfamiliar weight of its triangular shield and accompanying red gems resting upon the back of her left hand, but had since decided that if Hild-san had to put up with the power limiters and crap that she wore regularly, then so could she.

"Oooof!"

A sexy, impish grin crawled across Ranma's face as another male walking in the opposite direction found himself hypnotized by her walk, only to run headlong into a salary man who also found himself fascinated by the switch of her hips. The two went down in a flurry of limbs and paperwork, allowing the redhead revised her score. "Eleven."

"Nonsense," Hild tisked playfully, glancing at her partner. "Foreigners only count as half."

Ranma's eyes widened as her sensibilities took a hit. "You can't just go changing the rules!"

"My business is changing the rules," Hild smirked back, ignoring the girl's narrowing gaze. "Come to think of it, so is your art. Ten point five."

"Then what about that group back at the corner?" Ranma huffed, attempting to salvage her score. "If that's the case, you're down to at least eight."

"I am the Daimakaichō, dear," She patiently explained. "Natives and foreigners alike are my clients. Fifteen."

Competitive irritation simmered within the martial artist, causing her to turn back to her task with redoubled effort. After the gambling king incident, there were many who believed that Ranma couldn't act worth a damn, and to a certain extent, they were right. Bluffing or outright lying had turned out to be a lost cause, though few had ever thought to asked 'why?' and even fewer actually cared.

There might have been a number of reasons, really. Ranma's upbringing, for example, could have easily been to blame. Bereft of social interaction beyond his father, Ranma simply lacked the emotional evasiveness that most everybody else developed through simply cultural exposure. Another theory ran along the lines that Ranma's own skill and arrogance had cultivated that trait. What need was there to lie about anything when you were the best? There were a number of probable reasons really, but even if these concerned individuals had contemplated the Saotome's mental condition to such a degree, their hypothesis invariably missed something crucial concerning his psychology...

...Ranma could act quite well.

Or rather, those acting skills simply required the proper venue in order to be observed. For the redhead in question, that venue was in the here and now on the streets of Roppongi. While it could have just as easily been a food vendor in Nerima or suckering Ryoga, Ranma now turned those formidable skills- skills further honed by Hild herself -upon a Honda passing by at slow speed. The vehicle itself spoke of money. Ground effects. Lighting. Spoiler. All of which meant nothing to the teen bombshell as she turned a smoldering gaze on its driver and his three companions. Her blue eyes locked with theirs and she sent a smoky look their way while ensuring that any eye that strayed from hers was immediately captured by the practiced sway of her step. The driver's mouth hung open and she licked her lips...

THUuMP!

The Honda's front end crumpled with the impact, its driver's attention having strayed on the woman for far too long to notice that the Toyota in front had slowed its pace. The white Celica jumped with the impact and time for the cruising teens resumed as they were jolted forward through the low speed impact. Ranma simply turned her attention back to her direction of travel with an almost sinister smile.

"Fourteen... point five."

For a moment, Hild was rendered the closest thing to speechless as she realized the girl's intent, and that intent was to engage the very mistress of hell itself in a game of one-upmanship. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise, but it did, if only because nobody ever did. But then, it's never simply a game for you, is it? The Daimakaichō appraised the girl's attitude, knowing that she could no more not raise the stakes any more than the sun could not rise tomorrow. It was part of her, and whether it a martial arts rival or the queen of the damned, Ranma Saotome would rise to the challenge because her very makeup brooked no alternative.

What a demon you would make, child, the woman mused internally, but had already resolved that particular matter several weeks back. As it was, she was a mortal and thus outside her chain of command. It also placed her beyond the politics that usually accompanied such a position, and that made her unique in their interactions. That alone allowed Hild to consider the girl with other emotions beyond a simple leader-subordinate archetype, elevating the redhead to that rare position that had remained unfilled for several millennia. She was special to her, and that made her smile at the girl's impetuousness.

"I see," Hild replied to the challenge with an overly stern tone that indicated her amusement in itself. "Eight blocks remain to our destination, Ranma-Chan. As the Daimakaichō I cannot, of course, allow you to win this challenge. "

Eager rebellion flashed in the Ranma's eyes as eager grin found its way to her lips. "Well as the heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts, I'd like to see ya try."

"So be it."

And so it went. By the time the police arrived fifteen minutes later, bodies were everywhere. Their gut reaction was that an open turf war between neighboring Yakuza or Triad interlopers had taken place and actual firepower was called in to contain the situation. Even as armored vehicles were arriving, their theory was quickly overturned when further investigations failed to reveal any of the hallmarks of an organized crime war. No shell casings. No slashing. No broken bones. There was, however, blood.

Lots and lots of blood.

The National Institute of Infectious Diseases was immediately called in and for the space of a half an hour, six square blocks of Roppongi Hills was quarantined while space men in bulky white HAZMAT suits tested the area and isolated potential victims. A profile of the illness was promptly written up. Given the disparity of victims and their lack of direct contact, the unknown vector was thought to be airborne to some degree. Once infected, the victim usually suffered unconsciousness or blood loss within minutes, exhibiting either clumsiness or distraction as their sole symptoms only minutes prior; all virtually without warning. The demographic involved also tended to favor predominately young males , though there were a handful of females suffering from the same symptoms.

The department managing the quarantine and couldn't have known that the latter counted for double points.

By the time it was realized that the mysterious epidemic wasn't one at all, Hild and Ranma had arrived at their destination in good humor, laughing at their own antics as they closed on the nightclub known only as the Kaijin Karasu. The exterior wasn't notable in any way, save copious amounts of heavily tinted glass, soft ambient lighting, brass railing and a long, long line of people awaiting entrance along the sidewalk. The line, in fact was the first thing Ranma Saotome noted with slight dismay. Aside from the fact that everybody in that line was dressed in a way that spoke of means, it was still long; prompting her to comment on the matter of its length.

"You gotta be kidding me," She complained as the pair closed on their destination, crossing at the final corner between them and the club. "We're going to be waiting all night in that."

"No, they will be waiting all night in that," Hild corrected, motioning to the people they were now passing. "We will simply bypass it by advising the rather large doorman that we are on his list, thereby gaining instant access."

"We are?"

"Of course we are," She replied to the blinking redhead as they neared the front of the line. The redhead had forgotten the stares they were receiving now as she hung on her friend's explanation. "They are waiting to obtain a measure of self gratification. We are here to take a soul and are thus granted considerable liberties in the method by which we take it."

Ranma attempted to make sense of the answer, using her own logic to fill the gap. "So... you called ahead?"

Hild very nearly produced a giggle with her reply. "Nothing so mundane," She returned easily. "There are only certain, well defined instances where a celestial being such as myself may interact with the mortals of Midgard to that degree. One of those circumstances is in the execution of the contract... Similar to the authority granted by a 'kouinjou', if one were to use the equivalent local vernacular."

"The mighty force thing again, right?" Ranma hazarded, earning a delighted clap from the grand demoness.

"Very good!" She complimented, launching into a detailed explanation. "Moreover, an extension of it. Our unfortunate victim has violated our contract, thus removing himself from the protection of the Ultimate Force. From there, the demon submits a soul seizure writ to the Nidhogg-"

"Hell's giant computer," Ranma inserted, earning another nod from the white haired adult.

"-which in turn authorizes a time and date upon which the soul in question may be seized." The Daimakaichō finished up, watching Ranma's face as she worked through the details herself.

The redhead thought about the process. It seemed pretty straight forward, but there was one question that remained unanswered in her mind. "Okay, but what does all this have to do with us being on the list?"

"Simple," The mistress of hell replied, then turned her attention fully upon the bouncer and his partner as both females neared the head of the line. Ranma noticed her shift in attention, as well as the subtle change in her body language and adapted hers to follow the tanned woman's cue. The boy who couldn't act sank beneath a wholly feminine exterior and when the two pairs of male eyes finally rested upon the upon the them, they saw nothing but a tanned supermodel and a redheaded temptress. Hild's entire demeanor was playful lust. Ranma's was lazy flirtation. Both bouncers simply stared attention as the women captured their attention in its entirety, and the rest of the world was forgotten in their presence.

Hild took the lead, stepping just within first doorman's personal space with a sexy, lidded gaze. The bald headed bouncer was easily 180 centimeters tall and twice as wide as the woman before him, but her physical presence dominated the encounter. Ranma was more than happy to take a back seat to this particular meeting and used the opportunity to take mental notes as to her role model's handling of the guy. There was no conversation for literally the first thirty seconds as her presence was ingratiated upon the male until she favored him with the slightest edge of a smile. That was his invitation to finally speak.

"Nah... name?"

Hild glanced coyly at his partner before turning the warm gaze back on the first bouncer. The sudden sucking of his breath was heard, but it barely registered as the woman finally began to move her lips. "Hild."

She let her head loll to the right, indicating her partner's turn and their eyes reluctantly left the tanned woman for her shorter, but no less well endowed counterpart. To Ranma Saotome, this particular lesson was clear. Not only was it abundantly clear, but amazing. Hild's activities here were not about inducing fevered lust, though that was certainly a component of her mentor's actions. Its foremost priority was control- control induced through sheer presence alone.

And she ain't even usin' a battle aura for this… Ranma's analysis trailed off in that split second of realization as she realized just how similar the technique was to what she used regularly. It was confidence; an absolute, unwavering confidence like the pigtailed girl had never seen before; even as she considered herself a pillar of confidence. With it, Ranma could manifest and shape Ki. Hild's confidence was a tangible, living thing that seemed to all but bend reality to her very whim. Lust was merely the flavor of the moment, and Ranma knew that the woman could have just as easily projected something else through that impenetrable wall of self assurance. Terror. Joy. Resolve. It wouldn't have mattered. These men would feel it because Hild believed they would feel it with unassailable certainty.

"Ran-ma," The redhead replied throatily, attempting to capture their attention in the same manner, and she did after a fashion. But that she knew- she could feel -that her attempt was akin to a candle trying to share space with a lighthouse. The two bouncers basked in the glow of her attention as they appreciated all she had to offer, but that attention invariably wandered back to her partner as if they themselves were charmed snakes. It was a bittersweet defeat for the martial artist, who was forced to acknowledge the reality that she wasn't the best in this particular arena, nor would she be pulling any last minute retreats to execute an impossible comeback a few days later. The gulf between their respective skill levels was simply that vast and the only salve for Ranma's pride was the fact that the winner was not only considered a good friend, but a friend that had earned her complete and utter respect.

The first bouncer licked his very dry lips, taking only the absolute mini um amount of time necessary to scan the clipboard in hand and return his eyes to the impossibly beautiful creature before him. "Ya... You're on the list."

Hild smiled charitably for him. "Of course we are. Ranma?"

The redheaded girl fell into her white haired friend's wake with a lilting smile for the second bouncer, who was more than happy to pull the door open. A wall of bass suddenly perforated the air with the tinted glass door's opening, thumping in time and admitting the pair into a new atmosphere of haze, colored lights and overly loud music that did its best to pull at Ranma's attention as they weaved through the main hall and closer to what was obviously the club's interior. Hild turned back to her, continuing her nearly forgotten instruction now that they had gain entrance to the establishment.

"Once a seizure writ is issued, the Nidhogg utilizes the Ultimate Force to ensure that the demon assigned to the case will have the resources necessary to acquire the soul in question," The bass emanating from the main dance floor continued to try and override their conversation, but Hild's voice seemed to cut through the din unnaturally and Ranma hung on every word regardless. "Any potential barriers to that acquisition will be eliminated or circumvented, including position, power, physical barriers and, of course, silly lists that would otherwise bar access to an establishment such as this."

The scope of power that such a writ granted should have been enough to amaze the martial artist all by itself, but this teen wasn't exactly a stranger to power, nor had power ever been a major draw in her life. Nerima, in fact, had taught her that power could quite literally be tripped over in any way, shape and form to be wielded by the incompetent and undeserving. Hild on the other hand...

"They woulda just let you in, list or no..." Ranma all but mumbled to herself as she recalled the sheer presence Hild had projected at the entrance. That had been something to take notice of. No special techniques. No wishing swords. No instant power-ups. Not even a shot of Ki. She had done that through force of will alone, and a giant supercomputer rewriting reality paled in comparison.

The Daimakaichō picked Ranma's words out from ambient noise and paused, lifting her chin with a delicate finger until she had tilted the girl's gaze to hers. When exposed to a power that could quite literally rewrite reality, the girl had chosen to be impressed- even envious - by her ability alone. It was a priceless feeling that Hild savored as she cast a gentle, almost maternal smile down upon Ranma . "In time, child... In time. For now, we are here for a purpose ."

Ranma nodded firmly; a grin breaking out on her face as her white haired partner outlined the plan. "Our seizure writ goes live at 8pm . All that is required of you is to sit back and observe. ...or partake. As I mentioned, we are here to mix business and pleasure."

"Eh, partake?" It was quite possibly the first situation since the night began where Ranma Saotome suddenly found herself out of her element. Growing up on the road ensured social gatherings of any sort had been nonexistent, and the threat implicit from the club full of revelers around them was suddenly grasped with absolute clarity. There was dancing, drinking, close contact... The teen suddenly found herself feeling skittish. "Y'know, it's kinda stuffy in here... maybe I should wait out-"

"The room is alive with sin, Ranma-Chan," The Grand Demoness' attitude suddenly took on a more serious edge, her purple eyes glittering as she cut the martial artist's protest short. She swept her hand grandly across the mingling crowd. "Gluttony, debauchery, envy, wrath, pride, sloth and greed... I will not force these upon you, but your proximity to me will inevitably bring you into contact with them in quantities great and small . "

Hild hadn't meant the declaration as an ultimatum and she was more than willing to give Ranma the time , but the redhead had a rather simplistic logic tree when it came to obstacles, a decision process further simplified when pitted against one of the few people she could name as a friend in her life. While not quite as simplistic as a certain Amazon known to her, the Daimakaicho had inadvertently poised her continued association with the martial artist against the necessary evils of her position. Ranma's blue eyed gaze narrowed on her, and Hild cocked her head with little in the way of comprehension until Ranma snorted her defiance. The tanned demoness blinked and the face was gone, lapsing back into the lazy, flirtatious smile she had worn in; its owner pivoting on a high heeled foot to merge into the crowd of party goers at a lethargic, sexy gait.

"Well that was... abrupt," Hild murmured to herself as she watched the teen overcome her aversion to the scene through sheer force of will. There was no doubt in her mind that Ranma wasn't particularly enjoying herself, but that mattered little at the moment as the redhead had suddenly become quite busy becoming everyone's friend while Hild herself retraced the mental path that had led to this particular outcome. The end conclusion resulted in another secret smile, and she engaged the crowd, ensuring her path would intercept with Ranma. The teen's red mane ensured she stood out like a beacon, and Hild leaned in on the girl who was juggling the attentions of three men and another woman.

"One hour," Hild advised, whispering into her ear as she passed. From an outside perspective, the flitting, coy look she sent toward the others gave entirely the wrong impression. "Meet me by the red door in back."

Ranma simply giggled at the advisement, as if her message had contained some form of levity beyond the mere words spoken and turned back to her audience even as Hild passed out of earshot to conduct her own operations. In spite of the happy go lucky female mask Ranma Saotome wore as she wound her way through the crowd of clubbers, it was quite possibly one of the most arduous tasks she had ever voluntarily committed to. Using the dance floor to practice her redheaded seductress role wasn't so bad... At least for the first ten minutes. Dealing with the fallout from that particular role had all but blindsided the martial artist as she began fend off the males she had attracted like moths to a flame.

The attraction in and of itself wasn't so much the problem since capturing their attention was part and parcel to her goal. It was the underlying expectation that had completely caught her off guard, driven home as one of her dancers took to liberty of allowing his hands to slide up the curvature of her hips from behind, caress her side and brush along the flank of her right breast. He wasn't the first, nor the last. More than one of the men she had ensnared was bold enough to make purposeful contact with her posterior; a matter made worse by the limited number or responses available to deal with the trespassers. Under normal circumstances, she would have broken every last one of them. As it was...

Ranma's hand blurred into invisibility and one of her amorous wannabe-suitors jerked suddenly as his left hand inexplicably lost all muscle control centimeters from the ripe fruits of her derrière. The martial artist had to suppress a growl but pretended not to notice none the less, deciding that it was high time to extricate herself from the dance floor before the need to inflict substantial bodily harm on one of the men pursuing her person became a necessity.

It was a viscous cycle and Ranma was only now realizing it in full, mentally cursing as she sought passage through the crowd and the dilemma she had created for herself. She wasn't going to let Hild down, which meant staying in character, but that would only keep attracting the guys. In turn, she couldn't exactly beat them off with a stick either. Sooner or later somebody's gonna notice 'em all mysteriously fallin' over around me, she chuckled darkly to herself, then couldn't quite help but to frown as a new conclusion surfaced. She really had no other way to deal with the situation beyond resorting to physical violence, and that itself was mildly disturbing to the martial artist's introspective.

Hild had been absolutely correct. Again. The room was alive with sin and much as it was a bitter pill to swallow, Ranma was forced to admit that she was ill prepared for it. Yeah, and whatdda I know? She berated herself and that blind spot that was coming more and more into focus with each passing minute. All I got are some fiancees chasing me, and that ain't nothin' like this...

Her eyes caught a darkened corner and a well dressed man lounging at one of the candle lit tables. Tan slacks, black shirt with a loosened tie and two barely dressed women wrapped around him. Their shimmering skirts were little more than strips of fabric; one sporting a red bikini top while the other a light blue silk top that barely covered the essentials.

Not that I'm one to talk at the moment, Ranma admitted as one of the women caressed him in the same manner that her own men had attempted on the dance floor, while the other tipped a martini up to his lips to be sipped. Their activities were well beyond her experience however. Her eyes drifted across several similar scenes that were studied and discarded until her retreat across the main floor was brought to a halt by the club's central bar.

Ranma found a seat with an already weary breath, taking in all the different colored liqueurs until her absent minded study was interrupt a minute later by the bar keep. A long stemmed glass was pushed up to her by the smiling man behind the counter. She looked at it, then the bartender with a satisfied look guaranteed to throw anybody watching off the fact that she didn't have a clue as to why she was receiving the drink in the first place.

"From an admirer," Her server's gaze lingered for a bit with the advice, his gaze drifting downward discretely before his work pulled him away. Ranma wanted to scowl at the fact that she had already picked up another admirer, but took the golden-hued drink between her fingers, studying it. Wanting to scowl and actually doing so did not translate into the same things, however, and the teen couldn't help but to chuckled slightly. Truth be told, receiving free eats from suckers was well worn ground in her life, even if tonight's free stuff was beginning to err on the exotic side.

Sure as hell ain't sake, she decided, replacing the delicate glass back onto the bar-top as her interest in it faded. Champagne maybe...?

She pushed the drink away with a single finger and returned to her contemplation. One hour had seemed like a cake-walk when she had first pranced into the crowd. Now she had forty minutes left on the clock and was having doubts as to whether she would survive the next ten without falling back on physical violence. I can do it, she reassured herself. Not gonna let Hild-San down. Not going to-

A new glass slid into view. Ranma eyed its long, cylindrical form factor and the blue liquid within. The small umbrella sticking out from the top was especially gay in her opinion, but she turned her eyes on its purveyor regardless. The bartender smiled apologetically, which didn't stop him from admiring the view she provided yet again. "Another admirer, Miss."

Looking was fine. He could look all day long. With the mood she was in, however, attempts at touching might separate him from his hand, though she smiled warmly regardless. He stoled another glance at her before getting back to his rounds, leaving Ranma to her thoughts once more. What would Hild do right now? She wondered silently, scanning the crowd and the dance floor beyond. Colored lights swept the room while excessively loud music filled the space. More than one couple danced in close- very close -proximity to one another. Dancing in and of itself was not foreign to her... The writhing, highly physical contact was, and she shook her head sympathetically. Would be married in a heart beat if I did that ta any of the girls...

The slightest giggle found its way past her lips with the analysis, and here, it all seemed common place. Maybe it was just Nerima that was up tight? Not like she didn't warn me, Ranma chided herself, still wondering what she was going to do about it all until another glass joined the pair already awaiting her attention. This time, the bartender had an amused look for her, simply nodding before being about his business. This particular drink featured a wide mouthed glass with pinkish alcohol. Inset was a piece of lime, while the lip of the glass was lined with... Ranma put a finger to the crystalline coating, tasting a dab. Salt? The redhead pushed the drink aside to join the others, not exactly liking the mental taste that salt and alcohol would create on her tongue.

Ranma rejoined her question as the drink was forgotten, coming to the unsurprising conclusion that, in the same situation, Hild would probably be living it up. Probably already is anyway, she smirked, scanning the crowed for her patron's white mane of hair. Hild-San was fearless. She was powerful. She was smart. Probably knows martial arts, too, Ranma guessed, now that she thought about it. The need to be able to kick ass was undoubtedly pretty high on the job description.

Whether the redhead realized it or not, the Daimakaichō had become a role model. Her role model. The first and only that Ranma had ever known in the whole of his and her seventeen years beyond the rise and fall of her father from that position, and any action she would take in this club now would inevitably be filtered through that lens.

By the time the martial artist's attention returned to the bar, two more drinks had joined the others: one orange-ish and the other one a revolting lime green in hue. The orange one had a cherry floating within its volume. Chick drinks, Ranma unceremoniously categorized the offerings and commenced to ignoring them as she had the others... or rather tried. Five minutes hadn't passed before the next wave of alcohol was served up and within minutes of that, Ranma was looking at no less than eight glasses of various shapes and content.

"Oh for cryin' out loud." For the first time since her arrival, Ranma's control actually slipped and she stared at the menagerie of multi-colored vessels that had found their way over to her section of the bar. Her eyes flicked up just in time to find the barkeep ready to deposit another one, only to be stopped by a subtle, less cheery shake of her head. He blinked a bit of surprise at her inexplicably dour mood, but shrugged, returning whence he came; alcoholic beverage in hand. Ranma's attention turned back to the drinks and the dilemma inherently present in each and every one of them.

Maybe if I drink one, the idiot who's sending them will just stop tryin' to guess, She grumbled and began picking through the lesser of the evils. Five of the eight were immediately disqualified as being too girlie to even touch. Their fruity colours were simply too offensive to her more masculine sensibilities to even think about drinking. Ranma made quick work of the remaining contestants, discarding the champagne, while remaining too uncertain about the frothy lager next to it to experiment. What remained was an innocuous shot glass filled with a clear liquid, and she picked it up to give it a tentative sniff.

Sake. There was no doubt about it, which made it the proverbial evil she knew. Even better, it had been delivered in an obnoxiously small quantity that all but assured her that she wouldn't find herself completely blitzed five minutes from now. Ranma gave a moment of pause to curse the Furikan drama club for that particular memory before downing the drink in a single gulp. The harsh glaze of fermented rice that she had braced for never truly materialized on her taste buds. It was still sake, just that it was much cleaner than the crap forced down her throat by Kuno back when. Almost kinda fruity, Ranma decided with the swallow, trying to analyze the drink that wasn't nearly as bad as she had been-

"Um, eh, excuse me... Miss?"

The redhead's dainty grip on the shot glass increased fractionally, sending a hairline crack halfway from the lip to the base before regaining control of her temper. Ranma fixed her sex-bomb countenance for the voice at her back and turned away from the bar to find the furthest thing from the playboy stereotype she had been expecting. He wasn't exactly older for starters. Certainly the salary man standing before her now was older than she was- twenty something unless she missed her guess -but every piece of body language emoted that of inexperience for the setting they both now found themselves in. His dark hair and tie had already been casualties of the night; both disheveled in a way that only augmented the pathetic and helpless aura he radiated.

Ranma snorted mentally at their similar positions, though she had the unfair advantage of having a stunning female body to hide behind and thus used it to her advantage. The martial artist looked him up and down with a marginal interest, inciting him to fidget. All in all, it was kind of fun to be on the giving end for a change, and she held a silent gaze on him before turning a faintly amused smile on him.

"Yes?"

She held the ending syllable of her single word question for a fraction longer than necessary, causing it to very nearly purr from her lips, which in turn caused the stranger to gulp uncomfortably. After another bout of stuttering, the young man was finally able to connect brain to mouth in order to form at least a partially coherent thought. "Ah, the drink... that you, eh, drank... is, um..."

"You sent me all of this?" Ranma arched an eyebrow as her irritation began to simmer now that it had a clear outlet.

"N-No, just the sake," he shook his head rapidly and the axe head of Ranma's displeasure halted its downward stroke. "Didn't want to bother you... Just my superiors... It was a challenge and..."

Ranma blinked with the halting explanation, then took a discreet glance at the table across the club from where he had originated. Several other men around were drinking at it, their business attire having been reduced to business casual through the night's activities. Also completely obvious was the fact that they were watching. Her eyes flicked back to the young man, whose own eyes had settled to the floor. "It's a joke..." The guy mumbled, then jerked his head up with a panicked expression. "Not you! I mean the guys! They sent me over to..."

Damn right it's a joke, Ranma thought blandly to herself and at herself. She had seen this particular situation way too many times before and the sad, horribly ironic part about it was that her male aspect took the starring role concerning awkward situations with females and ill thought comments concerning them. Watching it actually happen from an external perspective to some complete stranger was like some freakish out of body experience- An uncomfortably freakish experience, since it already hit so close to home. The martial artist shook the deja-vu off and focused instead on the more relevant topic: What would Hild do in this sorta situation?

The salary man mumbled an apology and was just starting to turn away when the redhead's hand flashed out, grabbing him gently by the wrist. His eyes widened even as she pulled him inexorably back to face her. If there was one thing that Ranma didn't like about the situation, it was that she had seen this exact set of circumstances before; led into making a fool of himself by other people in front of the opposite sex. The situation here was equally clear- This chump's co-workers had thrown him under the bus, expecting him to come over, get shot down by the redheaded hottie, then laugh his failure up when he got back. Ranma knew exactly what Hild would do in this sort of situation, and it aligned with Ranma's sense of poetic justice perfectly.

She'd make him a Legend.

She favored him with a sexy smirk and crossed her legs on the bar stool, revealing their long, slender perfection through the qipao's slit. The salary man's eyes drifted down, as if the local gravity around Ranma's person had doubled. It took him a full minute to realize just how obvious he was being. His head snapped up, his face pink with embarrassment. Amazingly enough, he still found the redhead quite amused. "I'm sorry! I didn't- It's! You're-!"

A single finger gently found his lips, halting his stammering. She leaned forward a bit to violate his personal space. "If I didn't want to be looked at, I wouldn't have worn it."

...Which was actually the truth in more instances than just this night was concerned, but that didn't help the young man's suddenly dry mouth. "I'm, ah... I'm... um... Hamasaki Toshido. Uh, call me Toshi."

"To-shi," Ranma murmured as if the name held a more intimate connotation than actually implied. She motioned back to the bar and the other drinks. "I liked yours the best."

"Yu... Yumewa Masayume," Toshi's pulse quickened with lazy blue eyed gaze she continued to drink him in, and he struggled to make conversation. "It's... it's a Junmai Daiginjo-Shu type. Would you... do you want...?"

A lethargic shake of her head ended the query as quickly as it had been broached, though truth be told, the drink itself hadn't been too bad. Probably paid an arm and a leg for it in a place like this, she quipped from the back of her mind as she considered the young man's fate. Another glass wouldn't exactly be unwelcome, but the warmth from the first was already making its rounds through her system.

It helped marginally reduce the inhibitions involved in her next decision.

"Maybe later," She let her finger run along the glass rim slowly before returning to him. Over his shoulder, she could see his former table and every occupant hanging on their interaction. Mischief radiated from within; her victim's fate decided. "For now, I think we should dance."

"D-Dance?"

No sooner had the word began to form on his lips did the red head stand up, now well within his personal space and all but invited him to examine certain perky parts of her anatomy through the close proximity alone. That particular activity was preempted by the acquisition of his hand within hers, and Toshi suddenly found himself turned around and led toward the dance floor. Not that he was all that resistant to begin with- and even if he had -was already too taken by what was visible in front of him; from entrancing roll of her strut, to the rest of her figure that just wouldn't quit. Not everything was visible through that strapless qipao of hers, but it damn near might as well have been, and he was helpless but to follow the beauty into the crowd.

Ranma, on the other hand, was less concerned about the guy she was dragging onto the dance floor and more concerned with what she was going to do with him. Dance, certainly, but her impromptu decision was bereft of critical details, and she began to scan the dancing crowd around her for examples in just how to execute her plan. One thing that became immediately obvious was that the dance floor activities were in no way connected to her primary arena of experience: Anything Goes Ballroom Dancing. These people were engaged in activities far more intimate in nature, with close contact being all but essential. Her blue eyes flicked over several prominent examples of couples- sometimes threesomes -writhing body to body, hands wandering freely across one another's anatomy with little apparent want or care for personal space.

Personal space, not a problem, the redhead determined as she led her prey onto the dance floor. Guys copin' a feel? Problem.

No matter how much fun it was to make people faint from blood loss, it created a dilemma in Ranma's mind: Personal contact with another guy- regardless of the body she now wore -wasn't exactly high on her list of priorities for the night. Even the very thought of such activities made her squirm mentally as her intellect attempted to reconcile her now ill-advised course of action against a complete inability to admit defeat. Hild would do it, she acknowledged reluctantly, though that alone did little to steel her resolve in regards to actually letting another guy hang all over her. Hild could do it, the thought echoed once more with a slightly different twist, inciting a deeper vein of competitiveness that was a component part of her psyche. Unseen by her new companion, Ranma's jaw clenched as she set to the task. There was still no chance in hell she'd let the guy get all grabby, but she could control what he touched.

I can do this, the redhead decided with a deep mental breath as the plan formed, then tossed a flirty glance back at her companion. "Just enjoy the ride, stud."

The line was pure cheese in her opinion, but it had the desired affect. Toshi simply nodded like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. That alone helped shore up Ranma's confidence for the next part, especially now that his compliance was all but guaranteed. Emboldened, she picked out an example of one of the more notable women on the dance floor; a Japanese woman with golden blond hair, expert makeup and a revealing black leather mini much like the one Hild had bought herself several weeks back. The makeup made it hard to tell exactly how old the woman was, but Ranma was betting not much older than herself. Her movements, however, spoke of considerably experience in her chosen arena, while the guy she danced with had free reign of her body.

Ranma mentally blanched as the blonde's older, balding partner slipped his hand across her right breast to be fondled, then moved on to wander the rest of her anatomy. It was apparently fine with her since her ruby red lips only smiled with his efforts and encouraged him further by continuing to shimmy along his body. Not a goddamn chance, the martial artist frowned through the warm blur of sake, though decided a little physical contact wasn't out of the question; especially when it was rationalized by the fact that she had done worse for far less in a fight.

Toshi's hands locked into hers and Ranma began her own dance, borrowing moves from the blond while incorporating a mixture of Anything Goes Ballroom that in turn bled into portions of other arts. The result was not simply graceful, but unintentionally sensual though that fact was largely lost on the redhead who was more concerned with keeping the salary man's hands out of trouble. Not that they proved to be much in the first place, as her partner was willingly guided through her movements like a puppet, neither wanting to unlock his hands from hers or caring to free himself. He was- as instructed -along for the ride and quite content in complying in the fullest even if his hands never made contact with anything important; another illusion built into the dance Ranma was executing on their behalf. It would have taken a bit more cognitive effort on his part to realize the narrow area they travelled, cognitive ability that had long since fled in deference to his libido. It didn't help that the redheaded temptress was shorter than him, which also afforded Toshi an excellent view of the erotic vision dancing with him; from the clear valley down her strapless charms to the bare, perfect leg that slipped out from hiding as she mimicked the other woman's movements.

With her confidence sufficiently stoked, Ranma shifted the pattern of her movements to bring Toshi's table of associates into view and was happy to see them gaping, already knowing what they were witnessing: the sight of their junior co-worker being used as some insatiable seductress' toy in what appeared to be a very intimate fashion. She stared up at salary man's glazed look, noting the trickle of blood seeping from his nose with satisfaction. She looked back at the table, ensuring she had their direct eye contact with a sexy, secret smile.

At least three of them choked on their beers outright.

And my job here is done, Ranma mentally cackled, and was about to cast off her boneless prop when she noticed something over the shoulder of the blond she had been sponging dance moves off of: a struggle. Two men, one woman toward the back of the club, moving through the shadows toward… The red door, she realized, devoting less attention to her movement and more to the girl all but being dragged out of sight. The fact that the dragging had been done by two suits many times larger than the girl grated against Ranma's sensibilities, nor had it gone unnoticed that the crowd in that area of the club had to have seen the flailing girl, but chose to do nothing. That aspect of the public abduction alone only incensed Ranma, and she abandoned the dance completely as the pieces of a hastily assembled course of action began to congeal.

"Ain't happenin'," She muttered, only to have Toshi adopt a bewildered expression as his date broke from their dance. One hand had been set free, but the other was still firmly in her grip and now he found himself being led once more across the dance floor toward the opposite side of the club.

Half a room away, Toshi's coworkers watched in befuddled awe as their junior was willingly led off the dance floor to the other side of the room. The dance alone had inspired their libidos to new heights and every one of them could only feel cold jealousy that the most inexperience member of their business unit had been chosen to be the plaything of one of the hottest women in the club. The only question now was where was she taking their coworker? It was getting hard to see through the crowd and-

"The red room!"

One of the salary men hissed and the others instantly gagged on their own drinks, while a manager bolted upright from his chair to get a better view of the impossible occurrence. Their butterfly's bright red hair was impossible to miss as she led Toshi past the bar on a course that would intersect with the only point of interest in that corner of the bar.

The manager began to gibber.

Nor was he the only one. Everybody had been here before. The Kaijin Karasu was one of their boss's favorite hangouts, and everybody knew that it catered to those with eclectic tastes. Moreover, they all knew about the Red Room. Without connections, they would more than likely never see the inside of it themselves. However the legends were well known, legends that included wild tales of vice, debauchery, and women that would do anything all night long. Visions of trained courtesans and uninhibited prostitutes danced through in their minds eye as they watched the redhead guide their junior partner to the gates of nirvana.

It just was not fair.

Nor did they realize just how unfair it was about to become.

Even as they cursed their co-worker and prayed for a sudden and highly improbable mind-body switch to occur, their division manager, Genko Tademei sat at the head of the table with a satisfied look. Like the others around him, he too wished for that sudden reversal of fortunes or that the redhead had favored his own lager instead of the Hamasaki kid- What red blooded male wouldn't? Regardless, any man that could hold the attentions of a young lady like that and convince to her to escort him back to the Red Room was fast track management material. Not only that, but Toshi's catch was hardly the average woman of the night. She was a lady of means if his eye was any judge. The dress hadn't come from some corner boutique and the jewelry that adorned her most definitely had not. Money was obviously not an issue for the woman, and she certainly wasn't working the floor. If Hamasaki could attract that sort of clientele in his personal life, by God he'd see him as an assistant division manager by Monday.

If there's anything left by the time she's done with him, Genko smirked, taking another drought from his pint of beer.

Neither Toshi or his Division Manager could know just how prophetic that thought would become as Ranma zeroed on the red door and the robust bouncer guarding it. By the time her gait had caught the attention of the door's attendant, the redhead had recovered her composure and was once again wearing her bombshell demeanor as she closed on her target. The subtle sway of her movements attracted his eye like so many other men that night, and an appreciative smile crossed his face. She returned his smile with her own lethargic smirk, determined to try it Hild's way first. Toshi was completely forgotten in that moment and she pooled her own confidence, wrapping herself within it as if it were physical clothing. She came to a stop before her substantially taller victim and played her part for all that it was worth.

"Can I come in?" She asked breathy, already fixing the outcome in her mind's eye. Of course I can, Ranma smirked mentally. I'm hot and you're just another sucker.

She held his eyes in her own, then endured his gaze wandering away to behold that which Jusenkyo had bestowed. Fortunately, Ranma had nearly two years of experience in putting it to good use and sighed dramatically, ensuring her prominent chest strained against the strapless top she wore. The bouncer licked his lips and reluctantly pulled his eyes back to her own.

"Ah, yeah. Sure you can," The bearded guard nod enthusiastically, then frowned, looking over her shoulder. "But he can't."

Ranma glanced back over her shoulder, suddenly reminded of her human prop. She considered his stunned look at the exclusion and was about to cast him off like the living prop he was in order to achieve the necessary access when another course of action wound its way through her thoughts. Telling Toshi to take a hike would make it too easy. Getting him in past this guy using Hild's confidence technique? That would be a real win.

"But he's a lot of fun," Ranma countered with her new goal in mind, holding the bouncer with her gaze as if he was her sole focus. The reality wasn't too far off as she continued feeding her confidence like a bonfire while trying to reverse engineer Hild's technique for herself. It wasn't just about looking sexy and reducing somebody to stupor, it was about them feeling she was right and allowing no other outcome to take place through sheer will alone. Ranma willed the outcome to take place and the guard licked his lips, wandering her curves appreciatively before shaking his head.

"I'm lots of fun too." He smirked causing the redhead's cheek to twitch. "Maybe after my shift we can..."

The martial artists glacial blue eyes narrowed on the bouncer as her temper began to simmer with the innuendo. "No. you really want to let me and Toshi here through."

"Nah," Her mark shook with a grin, folding his arms. "The girlie man can take a hike. You and me, on the other hand can-"

Ranma's hand snapped out, grabbing the guards left wrist and twisted it outward as her displeasure manifested itself in full. The guard squawked in pain, then fell to his knees as the joints in his left arm were forced to their stops. Muscle and ligaments began to burn like fire from the strain. A beefy hand clawed at the feather light one holding him in painful submission, but failed to dislodge it or impress the girl in any way.

"I ain't got time for this." She shook her head as if the man were little more than a bug beneath her notice now. She glanced back to her companion. "Toshi, door."

The salary man found himself staring in shock at his escort, his incredulous glance alternating between the redheaded goddess and the club bouncer wheezing painfully on his knees. The man several times her size began to beat at her arm, prompting her to merely arch a doubtful eyebrow at his efforts. The ineffectual display made his choice easy, and Toshi hastened to open the door for the diminutive beauty. The door was open in a matter of second, but in those few seconds it took him to return his attention to the girl, he now found the guard slumped over unconscious.

"Let's go." Ranma was already moving around him through the opening he had created, and while he could have refused the invitation in theory, the thought hadn't even entered his mind. Toshi followed her into a much more subdued atmosphere and closed the door behind him, muffling the harder edges of the beats beyond to a mere pulsing throb. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the softer lighting. When it did, he found... bodies. The room was made up of a series of sunken couches surrounding individual tables. Some of the tables had food on them. Some of them had drink. Occasionally his eyes wandered across a table with a female dancer sans clothing undulating and twisting in highly suggestive ways. The bodies themselves were invariably partaking of some form of entertainment, be it the food, drinks, dancers or themselves. Any couch not already preoccupied by sustenance or a swaying body invariably bore a couple or threesome intimately entwined in various states of undress.

Toshi gulped as he realized just what was happening around him and the implications of being in the same room with the woman that had brought him here. His nose began to trickle blood once more.

On the other hand, the salary man couldn't have known that his redheaded temptress was experiencing a similar bout of shock as she let her eyes drift across the room, exposing them and her sensibilities to more naked flesh in purposely compromising situations than she had ever stumbled across in her entire life. Sure, there were the bath house battles and Shampoo's own attempts to ply herself to his person, but this was so far beyond that or the dance floor that it was quite literally stunning. It took her several moments and a pair of mental reboots to snap out of her own stupor. It hardly helped that her eyes invariably fell on flesh in one form or another even after the fact, where they tended to linger in hedonistic fascination much to her annoyance of other parts of her psyche. Ranma shook her head clear once more to focus on the task at hand.

"Damn right the place is alive with sin," Ranma muttered Hild's own words and resumed her advanced deeper into the room while studiously ignoring the debauchery around her. Her passing drew only mild interest as she was dressed for the part, which in turn excused Toshi's own presence. Regardless, the girl nor her captors were nowhere to be found, which only left the a connecting hallway and a number of doors as the only possible avenues of retreat. Her thoroughly distracted date followed at a reluctant pace, joining the redhead at the mouth of the hallway where she waited, contemplating a series of black doors- five on the right, six on the left and a single red one at the corridor's end. The salary man looked down the hallway, then back to his escort with barely a clue as to what was about to happen to him. With any luck, it was going to be very, very memorable.

"Ah, so what now?"

Ranma cocked her head, trying to decide her own course of action that differed decisively from Toshi's ideal. "If you were a kidnapped girl in a den of Yakuza, where would they stash you?"

"Ah..." Toshi blinked. It wasn't quite the question he was expecting, but he processed a response in spite of the growing feeling of dread in his stomach. "Uh, the red one?"

"That's what I was thinkin' too," She nodded and started down the hall. Gone was the sexy bombshell gait Ranma had worn for much of the night; discarded much like the shimmering black high heels that were easily slipped out of as they passed the rows of black doors. The young man watched them tumble deliberately off her feet and paused for a moment, bending down to scoop the pair up even as she continued her advance.

"Um, Miss Ranma, your heels-" He proffered them helpfully, only to be overridden as if he hadn't even been heard.

"We could go for subtlety here, I guess," Ranma mulled over her options while noting the concentration of ki on the other side of the door. Unlike the club to her back, it was saturated with negative emotions which all but assured her she was in the right place. She threw a cocky grin back at him. "Personally, I'm all out of subtlety for the night."

His mouth was just opening to form a reply when the same shapely leg he had admired at the bar flashed out, its heel impacting to the right of the handle and transmitting overwhelming force into its frame. The lock- if there had been one to begin with -buckled with the handle and forced the door wide in a shower of splintered wood that nearly caused the structure to leave its hinges entirely. Somehow it managed to maintain its integrity, but no longer served as an impediment to her advance or the activities within.

"Looks like you were right, Toshi," Ranma sniffed with sarcastic contempt as she surveyed the scene. Like the lounge she had just departed, this room was dominated by a voluminous cushioned sofa that held exactly one occupant: A middle aged man with overly greased hair slicked back into a tail, open buttoned pink dress shirt and black slacks. The cigarette in his mouth hung off his lip in a way that only assured the martial artist her entry had been completely unexpected. Next to him stood two more suits, these dressed something closer to business casual in a black on white shirt-slack combination and black sun glasses in spite of the complete absence of sun.

There was a table in front of the couch itself and that was the where the girl Ranma had seen struggling ten minutes ago was residing; if one could properly term being held down cheek-to-table by another suit three times her mass a pleasant space to reside. His partner shared the same stunned look as his compatriots, but unlike the others had his belt dangling and pants unzipped, giving Ranma a pretty good idea of what was about to happen.

The man lounging upon the couch adjusted the cigarette in his mouth and stared at the very pleasant sight before him, even if her method of entry left something to be desired. A smirk began to crawl across the five o'clock shadow that inhabited his face. "Entertainment?"

"Of sorts." Ranma shrugged nonchalantly. "You the boss?"

"Of sorts," He returned lethargically, propping himself back into a sitting position, noting her partner only in passing as her presence dominated the room. "And why would a pretty flower such as yourself want to know that?"

"No reason, really," The redhead's smile took on a pernicious edge. "Just wanna know who to save for last."

---

"A little more to the left," A pair of sturdy hands moved left across the tanned skin of Hild's shoulder blades, and after a moment managed to illicit a supremely relaxed smile as one of the many males around her vying for her attention plied his hands to her back. She ignored the rest for a moment and leaned back into the face of her masseur with a content, if somewhat wanton look. "You do realize that if you keep this up, I might have you spirited away."

"A fate worse than death, I'm sure," The goateed gentleman in black business suit returned her smile wanly as his fingers continued to knead her skin, then pressed down her back and began to threaten the integrity of the cinch that held her jacket in check and thus clothing the Daimakaichō.

"I'm sure," Hild agreed, smirking back at their shared humor; if not for the same reason he assumed. Another man, this one cleanly cut and sporting all the trappings of wealth jockeyed for a position beside her at the bar while making every effort to ensure he was seen by the mistress occupying the attentions of so many men. Purple eyes consumed him, his platinum rings, gold watch and dark blue silk vest lazily, and he postured further now that her attention was upon him.

"I, on the other hand, would supply you with an entire army of servants," The newcomer boasted with a self confident smile, then bowed with flourish. "Mashimata Hidiki, at your service."

The man massaging Hild simply snorted softly while Hild lolled with palatable boredom before taking to dismantle his ego. "Servants I have in abundance, mister Hidiki. Likewise, after so many zeroes money begins to bore me." She paused, as if to drive her conversational tedium home. "At least Hanada-san here plies his very fingers to my back. What can a man of such limited stature as yourself possible offer me?"

Mashimata produced a dry gulp as any reply he had formulated to impress the woman turned to ash in his mouth. All eyes were now on him expectantly. How would he impress this woman when their own ranks had failed to do so? "I can... I.. that is... eh..."

The Daimakaichō favored him with a falsely sympathetic look and held her empty left hand out, where a fluted crystal glass of golden champagne was gently placed within her grasp. She took a sip of the bubbly liquid and waited patiently.

"I can..." the business man reached for something to impress the ethereal beauty before him; something to sway her. Only one thing entered his mind. "I can massage your feet?"

Hild blinked, as if the notion hadn't occurred to her either. "That's not a bad idea."

Hidiki nodded eagerly and fell to his knees. While his ego had indeed taken a hit, the perfection that represented the tanned legs was some measure of salve to that end. His eyes traced their every curve until they disappeared into the high hemline of miniskirt she wore. She shifted positions on the bar stool she sat upon, revealing a fraction more of her thighs before they disappeared into the minimal shadows of the mini. The business man took another dry gulp and slid the sparkling black stilettos off before taking her feet in hand. Thumbs and pressure were applied moments later, causing a contented sigh from above.

"Very nice," She crooned, leaning further back into the warm body behind her now that her feet were receiving aid. "Perhaps I misjudged you, Mister Hidiki."

"Of course," His ego returned with the measure of approval. "I have many other talents too."

"Indeed?" The mistress of hell noted with false curiosity, then allowed a saucy smile to slip. "Might they involve your tongue as well?"

"I have been known to employ it on occasion," The man kneeling before her leered back as she took another sip of her champagne.

"Excellent," Hild approved, her face alight with malignant humor. "My toes will appreciate your efforts after a full night in heels."

The businessman's mouth opened, then snapped shut as he processed the likely meaning of her statement before making another pass at the anatomy vastly different from the one he was expecting to service. "Your... toes?"

"Yes, my toes." The white haired temptress confirmed, focusing upon him with dark intensity. "Suckle them."

The man's cheek twitched. "You're... You're kidding."

The Daimakaicho's face still held an amused look, but one look into her lavender eyes was all it took to determine any trace of humor had drained completely away. "Do not keep me waiting, Hidiki-san."

It took all the willpower he could muster to tear his eyes away from her all consuming gaze, and then even more to openly defy her. Even as the words left his throat, the foreboding dread emanating from her person made him want to curl up at her feet and beg for forgiveness. He managed, however, stuttering in weak defiance as he began to regain his footing. "N...No. I'm a chairman of Sumono Industries! Hell no!"

"Funny you should mention that," The grin slipped wider and she produced a single nod to one of the men standing in attendance. A 9mm chrome plated automatic etched with gold chaser dragons curling down the slide found its way to the side of Mashimata Hidiki's forehead, whereupon he froze in horror with the hard click of the pistol in single action mode. Hild's gaze was now once again locked with that of the now pale businessman's, sadistic mirth filling his view. "Hell, Hidiki-san, would like to have her toes suckled."

Cold steel pressed up against the businessman's temple, yet the only thing he could see was this woman's cold, pitiless eyes. Hidiki was a negotiator himself and he knew there was nothing in that lavender gaze that would spare him if he didn't partake of the indignity she offered. The director clenched his jaw and prepared for the humiliation; her toes wiggling as if to invite him lower. If he could do this and get out of this God forsaken club alive, it would be-

CRAaaSH!

Hild's gaze snapped up as the far end of the club- the red room specifically -exploded with activity. The red doors themselves were violently breached before her very eyes and a well dressed bouncer ejected in an uncontrolled tumble. The crowd broke, panicking as the club's muscle rolled to an unconscious halt on the dance floor, sending patrons scurrying for the exit even as another bouncer tumbled through the door. This time he was accompanied by the patrons from within, who now sought a screaming exit alongside the others. The Daimakaichō cocked her head curiously at the sudden bout of chaos, then consulted the Nidhogg's chronometer.

"Ten minutes early," She shrugged, then pushed off the business man's face with her left foot to clear the way. Hidiki went down with a tumble and the mistress of hell slid back into her own black stilettos as she stood up, departing from her entourage with but a glance to spare for them. "I would not advise being here whence the police arrive."

The men and women in attendance quickly scattered with the advisement, leaving Hild to navigate the hastily departing crowds. The music had been cut and with it the dull thumps of bass. Another crash was heard amongst the panicked chitter of the fleeing masses, followed by the crunch of something quite breakable. Body number three tumbled out from the red room even as she reached for the door, and Hild smiled at the unconscious man now lying at her feet before stepping over the victim and into the back room itself. Her smile only grew at the sight that greeted her upon entry.

Hild's eyes tracked a meaty fist as it swung wide, attempting to corral its redheaded opponent with a left cross that seemed entirely too slow to even of having the possibility of hitting its target. Her prediction proved accurate as the girl he was facing flowed under it like liquid mercury and took a blurring jab at his open left flank. It may have only looked like one strike, but six ribs snapped on contact, destroying the bouncer's ability to inhale any meaningful volume of oxygen and doubling him so that his face now resided at her height. The spinning round house it gathered served to destroy any form of consciousness, and victim number four was sent flying over a luxurious couch and through a layer of drywall.

Ranma completed her spin just in time to catch her next opponent's punch, blunting the blow and forcing the wrist inward with a sharp crack. The elbow was next as she drew him further into her combination, snapping it as well, then popping the joint of his left shoulder. The kneecap was next, and Hild had to suppress a giggle with every flinch of agonizing pain that flashed across the wide man's face; finally ending with the kneecap and a twitching fetal position on the plush carpet. In all, her charge faced four opponents, all of which were taller than the petite redhead and out-massed her by at least two hundred kilos, but not one of them would touch her unless it was the martial artist engaging them in some manner. The fifth dropped less than ten seconds after the fourth, this particular hired muscle taken out by a particular grandiose hand-stand suplex maneuver that drove his head through a solid wood table, but could have easily broken his neck if she had desired to.

The sixth moved to grab her, only to be flipped end over end for his trouble, crashing hard into the floor in spite of its plush cushioning. The suit lay inert for a moment before recovering his senses to find a smiling redhead waiting overhead. He made a scrambling grab at her and Ranma allowed him just enough time for him to regain his footing before taking the outstretched hand and sending him on another cartwheeling tumble. Even as the process began anew, the his boss stepped out of the hallway having followed the brawl into the main antechamber. He smoothed out his pink dress shirt and withdrew another cigarette from the breast pocket and set it alight with the snap of a match. The mob boss took a long drag of the cigarette as he watched the melee in progress, threw it to the side and withdrew a long barreled .45 caliber revolver from the small of his back to level off on the redhead.

Hild watched with a frown as his finger pulled down on the trigger and the weapon bucked in his hand, unleashing its ordinance in a smallish plume of fire even as the martial artist recovered from her third throw and blurred around directly into the shot. The grand demoness' eyes widened at the potentially fatal outcome and began to gather power around her, the room darkening even as time slowed to her bidding. Through the blur, she watched Ranma punch directly into the line of fire, extending a single index finger out to intercept the hollow point round directly. Hild allowed a self satisfied smirk as she realized what was about to happen.

Her concern wasn't warranted after all.

Ranma's finger knifed through the open air in real time, and the subsonic round suddenly exploded in a violent pop, accompanied by a plume of dust seemingly erupting from nowhere. The mob boss only had enough time to stare in wonder before the red headed dervish was on him with considerably more speed and violence than his henchmen. Her driving follow-through broke the middle aged man's sternum outright while her other hand deflected the firearm's aim away to prevent any further mischief. Two kneecaps collapsed before the nova of pain in his chest was even realized, while a final palm strike to his falling chin served to keep him upright for only a moment longer before the bloodied man fell to the carpet.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Ranma glanced up from the wheezing man crumpled at her feet to Hild, who was stepping away from her station by the door while scanning the chaos that had been wrought upon the back room. A smile broke the serious expression of Ranma's face as she considered the tan woman and her arrival, as if she hadn't just kicked the yakuza bosses handpicked muscle. "Heya, Hild-san."

The aforementioned Hild-san affected an exaggerated sigh as she continued to survey the property damage. "And you didn't even see fit to invite me to this party of yours."

"Nah, not gonna bother you for the trash," Hild chuckled with the humorous comment, and the redhead motioned to the man at her feet; his pink shirt now stained with dark splotches of blood. "This the one?"

Even as Ranma asked, his hand trembled for the revolver just inches beyond its grasp. Ranma watched with an arched eyebrow, even as the boss glanced back up at her and redoubled his efforts. The redhead shrugged and drove her heel into his wrist. It snapped immediately, inciting a new squeal of pain and effectively ended any further attempts to acquire the firearm.

"Indeed it is," The Daimakaichō studied the man contemptuously, kneeling down to his height for a better view. "You have been a naughty little man, Ozawa-san."

The yakuza boss' terrified gaze snapped from the smirking redhead to the new arrival. His next words came out as an ineffectual wheeze. "Who... who the hell are you people!"

"Names aren't important here," The white haired demoness simply shook her head, smiling charitably down on the man even as he attempted to shuffle away from her. "What is important is that you broke your contract with us."

"Broke? I didn't..." his voice trailed off for a moment, then his eyes suddenly got wider. "No... Not you! I didn't break yours!"

"Ah, to the contrary," Hild tisked. "Page two hundred and three, section five, article eight, part two specifically states that interference with any infernal agents or their aligned forces constitutes grounds for breach of contract." Even as the objection formed on the man's lips, Hild was already overriding him. "In this particular case, that would be the assassination of your chief rival Kowatana-san as he too, was under contract."

"But, but, but... you can't...!"

"It's one of my favorite clauses, personally. And I see you're already acquainted with his daughter," The Grand Demoness smirked, glancing up to the mouth of the hallway where Toshi stood with a busted lip, supporting an equally disheveled black haired female over his shoulder; both staring on in shock as to the revelations occurring in their very presence. Hild singled her out directly. "Perhaps you would even like to stay for what is next, Miss Kowatana."

"What is... next?" The girl asked hesitantly, and the reason for the hesitancy was quite simple; the tanned woman's redheaded companion. The warrior-goddess-assassin had already torn through any resistance her deceased father's rival could offer, then literally destroyed a bullet in mid-flight before decimating the man himself. It was tough to see much topping that in regards to Ozawa's fate, but there was a twinkle in the white haired woman's eye that all but assured her she'd do her best.

Instead of answering directly, the woman simply ignored her trepidation and turned to the aforementioned warrior-goddess-assassin with a more serious look about her features. "I will not bind you to participate in this, Ranma-chan."

Any cheerfulness in the girl's demeanor likewise faded into grim determination, serving to fuel the girl's dread further. "And I told you I'm here to stay, Hild-san."

"Then it is time." The white haired woman declared, turning back to the fallen mob boss. "Of course, we could simply break your neck or snuff your pathetic life out by other similarly mundane methods to achieve the same result, but my dear child requires something a bit more… showy."

"Please, please, PLEASE," The boss gasped, attempting to push his way from what was now the biggest threat in the room to his long term survival. It was a pathetic struggle with both of his kneecaps broken and a wrist pulverized, but attempted it nonetheless as sheer terror overrode any concerns for pain. "I'll give you anything! ANYTHING!"

Hild chuckled. It was an evil, menacing sound and certainly not the last thing you would want to hear in the final minutes of your life. "But you've already given me the only thing that I could possibly want."

The yakuza boss managed another half meter of squirming before the Daimakaichō tired of his theatrics and grabbed at him. From Ranma's view, it looked like the lethargic swipe at his person would miss, only to watch her outstretched fingers snag a shadow. Her crippled prey suddenly choked and spasmed as her fingers curled around the barely visible shadow and, after a moment of twisting agony, gave it a good yank. The multi colored shadow gained cohesion for a moment before her audience's wide eyes and writhed in her grasp as if struggling to return to its body before Hild gave it a final pull to free it from its mortal shell. Ozawa's corporeal being immediately fell limp, and the wisp in her hands melted into a glowing gelatinous mass which she appraised with idle amusement, rolling what Ranma could only assume was the man's soul in her hands as if its mass were mere play dough.

Ranma winced as Hild stretched it a bit, then glanced at the body whose ki she could feel rapidly dissipating. "Uh, I'm assumin' he's...um..."

"Yes."

"And that's his, eh..." The martial artist pressed, motioning to the glowing mass of shadow for lack of an appropriate descriptive. Hild nodded once more, entirely too absorbed in stretching it into odd shapes.

"His soul." She finished definitively. "From here, accounts receivable will process it, weigh the balance of his life and assign a suitable punishment." The white haired demoness paused with an introspective look, then held the soul out to Ranma. "Care to touch it?"

"Eh..." Ranma hedged, warily watching the soul in her hand pulse.

As a matter of fact, she most definitely didn't want to touch the astral mass, but two things were working against that usually sound course of action. The first was her own ego, part of the very makeup of her own personality. Sure, it probably wasn't a good idea to touch another soul, but she had done stupider for less and now had an audience. The second was rooted in sounder logical foundations. This was Hild, and the woman had given her fair warning what to expect before even stepping into the place. She had even offered her an out at every stage, and the martial artist knew she was past the mental point of no return in her own thoughts.

The redhead held out her hand tepidly, then a single finger as Hild waited patiently. Ranma steeled herself in the next few seconds and gave it an experimental poke. At first, there was nothing beyond a warming sensation. That sensation vanished a split second later as a horrible feeling of despair accompanied by random flashes of memory stolen from the life and times of Nazi Ozawa flashed through her brain. Ranma sucked in a surprised breath and yanked the finger back. The mournful howling ceased as if turned off like a switch. She looked from the soul, to Hild, nearly panting.

"What the hell was that?"

"Unrestricted access to the late Ozawa-san's very self," The Daimakaichō nodded, pulling the soul back and crushing it into the size of a tennis ball between both hands. "Everything that he was and is. I assume it was all whiny and full of emotional despair?"

"Sure felt like it to me," The pigtailed girl nodded briskly, only to watch Hild shake her head, as if boredom had set in.

"You learn to ignore it after the first dozen or so," Hild quipped, now tossing the soul in hand with a complete lack of remorse in her tone. "As if they didn't know full well what they were getting into. Whiny teeth gnashers, each and every one of them."

"And off you go." The tanned woman gave the compacted soul a final toss into the air pointed her finger at in, forming a faux gun, then pulled the trigger. The soul immediately exploded into sparkling glitter with a pop, which rained overhead for a moment before dissipating entirely. Ranma winced again with the final scream echoing through her ki, but shook it off. By the time she had refocused, Hild had already moved on with a smile on her face. "We'll definitely have to do this again sometime. Perhaps... No, wait. I'm forgetting something."

The Grand Demoness paused, then turned fully around to the wide eyed salary man and yakuza heiress gaping in the doorway. Hild considered them with a tilted head for a moment; a thoughtful finger resting on her lips. "Technically I should be erasing both of your memories at this point."

That seemed to snap the pair out of their daze and both shuffled nervously as the woman contemplated their fate. She turned back to Ranma. "What do you think, dear?"

Ranma simply shrugged, using the change in subject to put the thought of blasting a soul straight to hell well to the back of her mind. "Toshi's been a blast. I say let 'em keep it."

"And so they shall," Hild nodded agreeably, joining Ranma to take her hand into hers. "Ta-ta!"

Toshi Hamasaki and Mina Kowatana watched as their benefactors suddenly burst into flames, leaving them staring at a room in ruin, complete with broken furniture, fixtures, unconscious bodyguards and one rapidly cooling corpse once owned by the now late Nazi Ozawa. The sight of her father's rival snapped the heiress out of her stupor and she adjusted her position in Toshi's hold, spitting on the dead body. The act effectively snapped the salaryman out of his own daze, and his brain finally reengaged in an effort to make sense of everything that had happened.

"Ah... what do you think-"

"I think we should leave," His female partner finished his thought immediately. "Before the police arrive with questions requiring answers we do not have."

While normally a law-abiding Japanese citizen, her course of action was probably the one thing he could agree with in its entirety. There was no possible way either one of them could explain the devastation wrought around them, and if he wanted a job- hell, if he wanted a life tomorrow -the best thing he could do would be to not be found here, period. Still, there was his new female friend to consider, and he adjusted his stance to carry more of her weight along his shoulder. "Should I get you to a doctor?"

"Thank you, but my place is fine," She shook her head even as they navigated out the back and toward the emergency exit. She smiled for him even as they limped along. "The redhead... A special acquaintance of yours, I'd assume?"

"Ah, kinda," The young man admitted nervously, but recanted. "Um, not really. I mean, it's complicated."

Mina simply giggled though his backtracking. "I like complicated. I think you and I will get along just fine."

Toshi swallowed hard with the yakuza heiress' suggestive lilt, all while wondering just how his simple life had gotten so damn complicated so damn fast.

A certain redhead immediately came to mind.

---

"A limo," Ranma huffed as the interior swayed slightly as the limo in question rounded a corner. It was all she could do not to sink into the deep leather seats, never to be heard from again, and she grabbed the burled wood armrest to stabilize herself. Once that had been accomplished, she shot a skeptical look at the owner of the limo and co-occupant, the Daimakaichō herself. "Why does it always gotta be a limo? I mean, you can just blast us from here to there, right?"

"Of course I can," Hild smirked, flicking an errant bank of her platinum white mane back over her shoulder. "But what fun is money and power if you can't lord it over others?"

The martial artist simply rolled her eyes, noting landmarks that placed them on the outer edge of the Nermia suburb. "Yeah, great for you, but I don't need this kind of notice."

"Simply because you won't take the steps necessary to limit the drama in your life doesn't mean that I can't have my fun." Hild snickered at Ranma's discomfort before her tone turned a fraction more serious. "And your fun, for that matter."

Another streetlight flashed its illumination into the tinted windows of their mutual transportation before being left behind in the night, highlighting Ranma's bland expression briefly. She recognized the pointed life lesson immediately and simply opted to limit her response to a muted huff instead of justifying her stance to the one person who would not only empathize with her plight, but had been helping her with it. That same realization also brought forth another, and that was that the limo probably was her idea of help.

"Have it your way," The Saotome shook her head and expressed thanks in her own round-about way. "But don't think I won't learn how to do that teleportin' trick myself one of these days."

"Posh, I'm already having that arranged." Ranma blinked with the tanned woman's statement and stared intently as she continued. "I would teach you myself but barely have time for outings such as this, let alone instruct in basic spell primer."

"Basic what?" Ranma leaned forward, the woman having gained her complete and undivided attention. She dissected the meaning further, trying for the most likely conclusion. "Wait, you're gettin' me a magic tutor?"

"Better than finding you randomly experimenting with the tomes in my library, I should think." Hild sniffed with humor at the recollection of the teenager curled around a book nearly the size of her torso. "Miss McDowell owes me a favor and her instruction compliments your learning style. Between the two of you, I would expect you to have the basics down within a few months."

The incredulity of her statement was immediately replaced as the girl's ego roared to the forefront. "Months? As if."

"If you insist," The tanned woman adopted a innocent look, one that all but advertised her overt manipulations. Ranma opened her mouth to protest the act, but it simply snapped shut a moment later, realizing she could only argue not being able to learn the material within the expected time frame; nor would it actually change a thing. Of course, there was ego involved, but there was also that core part of her that would learn with an insatiable need. She would learn the material and she would exceed Hild expectations just like the woman obviously expected her to. Arguing the point was ridiculous in that light.

The martial artist was about to attack the conversation from a different angle when the limo began to decelerate, rolling to a halt seconds later. Hild's eyes twinkled at the fortuitous derailing of Ranma's train of thought. "Oh look at the time. It appears we have arrived."

"Hmmf," Ranma sniffed as she extricated herself from the soft leather couch of the limo. "Don't think I've forgotten about this."

"Oh, so you will be needing all those months of practice?"

Ranma's cheek twitched as she realized she had just fallen into the trap she had wished to avoid in the first place. She swallowed her pride with the faux defeat. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But it won't be takin' months."

"Nor would I expect it to," Hild nodded kindly as the door opened for the girl. "I'll send Mara over to arrange the schedule later this week. Until then?"

"Alright, be waitin'," Ranma nodded agreeably as she ducked out of the automobile, pausing thoughtfully midway. "And the ass kickin' was real fun. Thanks Hild-san."

"Think nothing of it," She smiled kindly, then shooed her away with her hands. "Now off with you."

The door closed, leaving the grand Demoness alone within the vehicle and her thoughts. The smile persisted even as she watched Ranma's antics through the tinted window- Looking around to see if she had been spotted before hopping over the gate instead of simply walking through it. Though you might want to change out of that dress first, child, she snickered to herself as the driver reentered and placed the limo in gear.

Tonight hadn't been the disaster it could have been, and while Ranma had taken obvious discomfort at some of their activities, she had mental fortitude that the Daimakaichō could only admire. Not too much, too fast, however, she decided as the limo began to wheel away. It was almost ironic that she was still shepherding the girl along towards an end, but not the end she had originally started out to achieve. That one had been spiteful and utterly devoid of any value beyond that of self-gratification. The thought caused Hild a twinge of guilt and the smile faded from her face with the thought. Destroying the redhead now was nearly as alien as causing her own daughter to suffer.

The grand demoness sighed and was brooding on the topic further when a group of girls on a street-lit corner caught her attention, causing her the slightest of smiles. "Pull over next to them, Goswell."

The driver complied and the eyes of the three girls instantly locked onto the limo as it drew near. Hild keyed the power windows down with a cool smile, targeting the trio's leader. "Tendo-san. Fancy seeing you out this time of night." Her lavender eyes flicked over the other girls suggestively. "Business or pleasure?"

Nabiki Tendo stared at the woman lounging comfortably in the limo, but very nearly choked at the implication. Her two associates' cheeks suddenly reddened as well, prompting the middle sister to fill any perceived gap. "Ahem. Business, I assure you. None of yours, I might add."

"I see," Hild nodded sagely, ignoring her frosty tone. "Perhaps with enough monetary leverage it might become my business."

"I don't think so," Nabiki drawled, clearly doubtful and likewise guarded given her last encounter with the tanned woman. "Besides, I seriously doubt you could meet my price."

"Fifty thousand."

Nabiki coughed with the number that Hild had simply dropped from the sky. To point, she watched as the white haired woman reached from somewhere in the limo and pulled a stack of cash that consisted of thousand yen bills. She briefly wondered if the woman simply had stacks of cash simply lining the interior of her limo, but thrust the errant thought out of her mind as she considered the tactical implications of the offer. She was willing to pay, and pay big.

The only question was how big.

Seventy-five? She briefly wondered, studying the woman as she absently counted the requisite money seemingly without a care in the world. The Tendo's eyes flicked across the limo- a Bentley of some flavor -and crossed the number out mentally. I'll bet you can burn seventy five and not even feel it. Eighty? Ninety?

"Fifty thousand," Hild finished, fanning the money out before condensing it back into a polite stack. "Of course, I would require some assurance that the information is worth the sum I'm paying for it."

Nabiki's gaze narrowed on the woman as she mentally took a deep breath and launched her own outrageous gambit. "One hundred thousand, or you can simply drive on off."

Even the girls around her gasped, and the woman's cool smile slipped with the counter offer. "One hundred thousand?" Hild shook her head, playing her part of the game with flawless expertise. "Do you think I simply drive around dispensing large sums of money to any school girl waif prostituting themselves on the corner in the thorough of the night?"

"I do." Nabiki ignored the insult, proud to have finally gotten a reaction. Her own cool smile began to surface at the edge of her lips. "And for that indiscretion, one hundred and fifty thousand."

"Indeed," The woman's mood sour externally, even as she all but chortled inside. "Then I shall partake of your advice and 'simply drive off' as you put it."

The slightest pang of panic lanced through the sister, but she suppressed it; having expected this particular turn in their bargaining. Nabiki was back in familiar territory now, and commenced to reel her mark in. "Consider it payback for the dojo incident. I assure you, however, that this information is worth every yen if you wish to further your association with Saotome."

The power window that had started traversing upward suddenly stalled. All that was visible of the woman now was her lavender eyes, and they appeared to regard the Ice Queen warily. The reflective window dropped once more, revealing Hild's neutral expression in full. "Touche, Miss Tendo. If this information is not to my satisfaction, I promise you I will retain my funds."

"Satisfaction guaranteed," Nabiki folded her arms confidently even as her partners watched in disbelief as the woman added yet more money to the growing pile. Hild ran a finger across the edge, as if to count it before handing the money over to the middle sister, who had to suppress her own trembling. One-hundred and fifty thousand! Nabiki all but squealed from the confines of her own psyche, but quashed it upon seeing the waiting woman's irritated demeanor. She moved to assuage it without delay. "Saotome is getting married. Tomorrow. I was just making arrangement with the girls here to provide photo services, as a matter of fact."

A singular eyebrow shot up from Hild as she eyed the teen skeptically, yet could read no falsehood in the soul that was rightfully hers by contract. "This seems rather... sudden."

"That's my daddy and Ranma's old man for you," Nabiki snorted. "Heck, even my baby sister this time. If it seems sudden to you, think about arranging a tux, wedding dress, cake, photos... The whole nine yards. The last twelve hours have been hectic."

"And Ranma is not aware of this, of course," The Daimakaichō stated with certainty, confirmed by Nabiki's own testimony.

"He'll find out tomorrow." The mercenary smirked.

"With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage." Hild shook her head and played her own angle with a contemptuous sniff. "Though I am quite surprised you haven't charged the entire student body for this trove of information. Good night, Miss Tendo."

With that, Nabiki Tendo watched with a stunned look as the mirrored window slid back up until the woman was sealed within. The limo crawled away from the curb, leaving three teenage girls in their wake; two staring at the third.

"Boss? Boss?" One snapped her fingers in front of the mercenaries daze. On the third iteration, the sister snapped out of it.

"I can't believe I didn't think of that!" Nabiki blurted, startling the pair. She whirled on them an unholy gleam shining in her eyes. "We've been so damn busy!"

"What are you-"

"Forget the photos," She overrode her partner hastily. "I need an invitation for every single member Furikan by tomorrow. Light a fire under it, girls."

"At this hour?" One of them balked and the Tendo nodded fiercely, then clutched the girl's shoulders like a mad woman.

"Two thousand yen times every student in Furikan," She hissed, nearly shaking her partner in order to force understanding into her. "Plus gifts! What will a percentage of that do for your beauty sleep, Hiroko?"

Hiroko's daze suddenly morphed into wide eyed realization; numbers crunching in her mind's eye. A silent 'oh!' formed on her lips.

"That's right." Nabiki set the girl loose with a feral smile. "Let's burn the midnight oil, girls. We've got a fortune to make."

Two blocks away in a luxuriously appointed limousine heading east, the Daimakaichō watched the excited trio of girls from a rear view mirror with a very evil smile across her face.

---

Author's Notes: Alrighty. Damn I had to overcome enough barriers to get this out, but here we are. The completion of Ch9b marks the end of canon. It's uncharted territory from here on out, folks. Hope you've had fun so far.

Kaijin Karasu -Translated; Ash Raven, a fictional Yakuza run club set in Roppongi Hills.

Liar Liar - Can ranma lie and act to the level shown in this chapter? Basing his ability on canon events alone, IMO yes. As alluded to, it's highly ironic that all of that ability seems to only show through his female aspect, indicating some form of mental compartmentalization or other psychological issues if one takes the story at least somewhat seriously. He scams free eats under this guise, fools a gym full of girls in order to get the Japanese nyannichuan, and lest one forget, actually donned a strapless mini in order to help his clone seduce guys. From playing Ryoga's little sister to his jilted love interest, Ranma's ability to act and lie competently is beyond question regardless of whether he can bluff the poker king or not. It just depends on which form you find him in at the time.

Two Parts? - Chapter nine was originally intended as one whole, cohesive work. The problem with that is that it would have pushed over 30kw for a single chapter, while 15-20kw seems to be the perfered length by and large. If anything seems off or out of balance, it might help to view it in that light instead of two single, self-contained chapters.

Junmai Daiginjo-Shu what? - A type of sake, usually discernible by how much the rice is polished to remove external proteins before fermentation begins. Higher quality sake is generally polished multiple times, reducing the individual grain sizes to less than half their original diameter and removing the outer proteins. The quality of the sake is also determined by how much other alcohol besides that produced by fermentation is used to augment the end product, though its presence does not necessarily indicate a lesser quality product. For the record, I hate straight sake :p

Special thanks to all the same people in 9a. My editing is probably looser than it should be at this point, so thanks for putting up with it.