Disclaimer; This fanfiction uses existing ideas, characters and or worlds, but is an independent work of art. I own nothing, hence the reason for publishing my writings here instead of in real books where I could make some money.
Ranma jumped and pumped his fist in the air. He had done it!
What exactly had been done, was the creation of a car … or rather the skeleton of one, with an encased engine of the same design he had made for his first Science Club challenge, only on a slightly larger scale. It was encased to keep the sand, dirt and dust from entering and somehow muck up the works. The parts had been stored in Ranma's personal stuff space for over two months. He had been sent flying into the car section of the local junk yard once in Nerima, and upon regaining his bearings, thought that building a car might be one of his future projects … might as well rid the world of some trash in the progress and keep it just in case … the manager of the junk yard had been very confused when nearly half his lot had been emptied, and no one had been seen coming or going.
And this was what he used, welding together the frame of a car designed to manage even the roughest terrain.
One might wonder why he had decided to make a car now, when he was in the middle of a desert and was used to walking for most of the day, and the answer is simple; he wanted to be more alert, more rested for when he eventually ran into more company. He now knew that there were patrols roaming the desert at all times, looking for trouble, and had no illusions of being able to stay away from them at all times. So he made this car to conserve his energy, and to keep a steady pace to put some distance between him and a tracker.
He had been exposed to the Amazon laws, he did not want to become the victim of the barbarian laws of this place if he showed up in any town. For all he knew, the bandits he had beaten up and sent to get arrested were on the loose or had friends in high places that could get Ranma on the list of most wanted criminals for things he hadn't done.
Ranma looked over his half-way completed work.
The tires were large and thick, with deep and spaced treads in them. He had taken several tires more than he needed, and made new ones from them to fit his designs. He even installed several thin hoses horizontally inside, separate from one another in case something penetrated the rubber and punctured the hose, either deliberate or accidental. This way, the tire would not deflate suddenly, and he would have a couple of spares at the ready if the tire could not be fixed.
The frames were built not too unlike this car he had seen in a movie once, where this kid sent himself back in time thirty years and had to set things up so his parents got together, got married and had him and his siblings. Apart from the junk at the back of that car, it looked like a good transportation vehicle. The only difference was that it had to be strengthened and made a little stouter in shape to stand up to the forces Ranma tested it for. The tests were mostly him punching the metal as hard as he could … if it bent, he needed to fold the metal more and strengthen it, if it dented, it was nearly good enough, if he cut his hand from the force and nothing happened to the metal, it was good enough. Ranma was at first amazed at how much stronger he had gotten since the transformation, nearly three times what he had as a human, ki enhancing not included. It was also amazing what feats could be accomplished through the use of ki and chi manipulation. Chi readings of a metal structure revealed flaws, and ki could weld and heat metal to temperatures equalling that of a blow torch, and cut better than any blade, making construction much easier when he didn't want to carry around potentially explosive items in his personal stuff space, such as the gas tank needed to fuel a blow torch.
The seat was one of the more comfortable he could find in the junk yard, and was attached to the frame so well, it would take a troll to rip it out. Even Ranma had trouble doing so with his newfound strength coupled with his ki strengthening.
The steering was mostly normal, but the suspenders were made for off-road driving, so the axels were set to be adjustable to terrain, instead of rigid like in most normal cars, allowing for even traction on all wheels even on rocky ground. (N1)
But he couldn't waste more time, there was probably a patrol headed for this hideout now that the freed women were returned and knew where it was.
The car was functional, that was all he needed right now.
Ranma jumped into the hideout to loot any worthless things like food left over, and weapons that didn't have any feel of energy in them … the last could be used as armour for the car … and if he found anything, he stowed it into his stuff space.
After a quick scouring of the hideout, Ranma emerged and jumped into the driver's seat.
"And away we go!" he laughed and pulled the lever that held the springs still, then pressed down the thrust pedal to connect the gears to the ones already connected to the springs. With a snap, the car jumped and started spinning all four wheels rapidly, kicking up large quantities of dust and grass, then the vehicle started moving forward and forward, picking up speed until he five seconds later had reached the limit in a slight incline, sixty miles per hour.
"WOOOO-HOOOOO!"
Now, if he only had some speakers for his laptop, and some music on it in addition to diagnostics software and blueprints …
In the Sheriff's office of Seer's Hamlet, Sheriff Nadali is having a conversation with a seemingly withered old man dressed in filthy robes, and with thick glasses and beard.
"From what I've heard, this werecat could be a great asset to our plans," stated Nadali, shifting slightly under the stare the old man was directing at her.
"From what I've heard, he might not be more than the figure of a bunch of horny women's imaginations," retorted the man.
"He is very real," countered Nadali. "I've seen the prisoners myself, they were handled by a professional. None of the freed slaves or the saved caravan had enough skills to take on a single person at a time, let alone form an assault group to take on them all without wanting credit for it, and those slaves wouldn't have the strength of a newly born kitten, let alone enough to beat up a skilled dwarf in a bid for freedom."
"Hmmm," the man seemed to be in deep thought.
"Tirant?" "Shh! He's thinkin'!" "Always difficult the first time …" "Don't insult our nookie source!"
Nadali was getting a headache. All those different personalities trying to get heard, and she had to focus on what her boyfriend might say next.
"Have our lackeys be on the lookout," the man named Tirant finally replied. "If they find this mysterious werecat, have them try and recruit him for our purposes, or as a bodyguard. Can never have too many of them. If not, dispose of him."
"I'll give them the message," agreed Nadali. Anything to get this over with … she might still have a shot at keeping her lives on Jade if this werecat was anything like the reports said. He was bound to be against enslaving an entire world and do something against it, and she would be free to carry on as she had for a while now before she freed Tirant.
Meanwhile, in another part of town, the gate opened to admit three persons.
One was a woman in a sun dress and broad-brimmed hat. Her ears were like those of a cat, and a stripe ran down over the left eye. Her blonde hair had dark spots in it, like the spots of a cheetah. She was holding a bag, a book and a scroll, wondering where she was supposed to put it all.
The second was a man, in a dark grey mage suit and with dark hair. He was carrying nothing, but was casting worried glances at their third member.
The last was a woman, blonde hair, through which poked what looked like the horns of an antelope, petite everywhere but in the chest area, wearing very little and carrying a huge duffle bag with great difficulty. However, she refused any assistance from the man.
"It's – it's okay Seance," she huffed with a loving tone. She was obviously smitten with the man. "I'm -ugh- f-fine …"
"If you'd change back to your masculine form, you wouldn't be struggling with that thing," commented the blonde in an undertone to the other woman. Out loud, she addressed the man named Seance. "Aheh … thanks for your help, Seance … we really owe you one …"
Seance turned to the women and got a slightly sheepish expression. "Actually, I do have and ulterior motive." He confessed. "But it can wait until we're all settled in …"
Up on a platform overlooking the gate was a dwarven woman, leaning against the railing.
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the three arrivals.
"Weapons-Master G'Nolga …" interrupted a masked and hooded man slightly away. "You saw something?"
The dwarf woman kept her eyes on the three on the ground.
"That I did, Hanzo …" she answered absently. "Cruk? Use the spyglass on the three newcomers at the North Gate, please."
The wart ogre garbled something in his native tongue and did as told.
G'Nolga was watching the three and having some bored thoughts of her own. They couldn't be much of a challenge. None of the magic users they had kidnapped had been. Now, if even a third of the rumours about the werecat out in the desert were true, he might be a challenge, a worthy one. Maybe worthy of her, even …
In his car, Ranma sneezed, and thereby did not see the fly headed for him, causing him to swallow it as his head returned to normal position with a slight gasp for air.
Coughing and hacking, Ranma tried to expel the insect, but it was useless, he had swallowed on reflex as something of manageable size came far enough down the back of his mouth. The unwanted protein was not going anywhere but through him, his digestive system and eventually his entire body as nourishment before it was replaced with something else.
"That tears it!" he growled, "The next thing I'm puttin' on this thing is a windshield! That's the third one I've swallowed since I started!"
Ranma's drive was more than just an escape from a possibly corrupt authority … it was an exploration of unknown territory. He had no doubt that his situation here in this world, which was not his own as he witnessed from the stars at night, would immediately worsen the moment he made contact with any authority figure. It was a feeling he had, an instinct … the same one that told him to not follow his father to his friend's place and return to China to find a cure for his curse.
He was not going to fall victim to a corrupt legal system, nope, not him.
He returned his attention from contemplating his situation to where he was driving.
At the speeds he was travelling at, crashing into anything would be very painful, doubly so because he wasn't wearing a seat belt, and had not managed to set up any airbags or similar cushioning.
Just a few more minutes before he could afford to stop for the night … He doubted anyone could follow him at eighty miles an hour on level ground for as long as he had travelled without resting, so he could stop any time … NOW!
Releasing the accelerator, Ranma let the car roll for a moment before pressing the neighbouring pedal, which made a high pitch grinding noise, only dogs and other creatures with that frequency of hearing would hear, as the gears were forced to slow down. When the gears were sufficiently still, Ranma pushed the lever back into position, freezing the springs in position.
He was getting thirsty.
This was the first thing he noticed when he stopped.
He found a skin filled with water in stuff space, and greedily let the liquid trickle down his throat.
When he had drunk his fill, he let a drop make its way down his face until it dropped to the dry ground.
Seeing this drop made him realise something he had neglected to think about since before he had been transformed into this … why hadn't he gotten splashed? He had been around several flasks and skins of water, but none of them had inexplicably burst open to drench him and change his gender. Why? There had been several perfectly good opportunities for the curse to strike, but nothing had happened.
Looking at the skin in his hand, he decided it might be better to get the change over with and see how big a change his female form had after the transformation.
With a sigh, he upended the skin over his head, letting the water splash down in a miniature waterfall.
Ranma's eyes remained shut, waiting for the tingling the change usually brought.
Nothing.
Ranma opened his eyes to find that he was still a guy!
Was he finally rid of the curse?
Had he exchanged one curse for another?
Was he never going to turn into a girl anymore?
He wanted to do a little jig of joy at being rid of the curse, but decided not to get too excited. It might just be that the curse had run out of power and needed time to recharge before returning. After all, if a computer is exposed to a surge of power, it shuts down immediately to prevent damage to the systems. Who was to say the curse was any different? He had gone through a very big magical event a few days ago, and the curse might just have turned itself off until it could reboot and make sure no damage had occurred with it.
Besides, that solar eclipse that looked to be starting soon made him feel very edgy.
"WAAAAAH!"
Meanwhile at the foot of Arbron's Spine, three wererats in human form were running for it.
Romeo had slipped again as they neared the bottom, but this time it was not his posterior that was the victim, it was the stew a big troll was in the process of eating.
The three had taken off in a hurry before the troll realised what had happened. But when it did, it picked up its club and started chasing the trio for ruining his meal. Romeo was suffering from a slight burn from the hot stew, but was otherwise fine enough to keep it up for a little while. Moisha and Lydia were not injured, but tired from climbing down the steep mountain side.
-CRASH!-
The troll had just tried to smash them between the rocky ground and its hard wooden club, but missed because they had leapt out of the way, but they had not escaped the spray of rock shrapnel produced by this impact.
Small cuts and budding bruises now decorated the three wererats, and they were unable to change into hybrid form, as this would reveal their species and the existence of wererats in general. Ever since the creation of the werecats, they had done the best they could to get erased from memory, and these three were given explicit instructions not to give themselves away. Disobeying would be more painful than their current situation, so they kept on running like madmen.
"WAAAAAH! I WANT MY MUMMY!"
At the hideout of the Bandits of the Sand, soldiers had just arrived on a somewhat out-of-routine patrol.
Leading the patrol, was Captain Richards, a tall, strong man in his late forties, slightly greying brown hair at his temples, and steely grey eyes.
Like any veteran soldier, his body was riddled with scars, but the ones on his face and arms were the more noticeable ones due to their exposure. A tattoo of the word "Mother" was circled with a heart on his right shoulder. His weapon of choice had at one time been a sword and a small shield, but the shield had been abandoned for a bastard sword, giving him an offensive defence. He had been a soldier patrolling the Seer's Desert since he was seventeen. He had no wife since he was married to his work, only a regular prostitute he visited twice a week to relieve some stress. She had oddly enough gotten less free time and was always baby sitting a growing number of brats over the past decade, and seemed to fluctuate in weight over the year, but who was he to judge … He had been in the same rank for nearly a decade, with the same measly pay, and was only put in charge of this patrol eight winters ago.
He had been sent out here because he was used to dealing with bandits, and was good at it.
They would never have found this hideout if they hadn't been given detailed directions, or if the door wasn't wide open and giving away its location as subtly as a banner and a flag would have. And Captain Richards would know, this was on their regular route, and they had never seen this hideout before now. He was feeling slightly stupid for overlooking this over so many years, and started wondering what else he had overlooked.
There were no signs of anything living having been inside for at least half a day, but the tracks leading away were of the oddest variety the Captain had ever seen.
Two deep imprints running in parallel lines, with roughly the same width between them as a wagon track. The track was covered with a lot of debris, a sign of great speed.
But the origin of the tracks was a mystery.
They looked like very broad wagon wheel tracks, but there was no sign of any animal pulling it, and no wagon he knew of could move quickly enough to kick up this much dust in the air.
Whatever made these tracks had to be powerful, more so than his team of soldiers could match. Anything that could get magic to pull or push a wagon without leaving visible evidence of it had to be powerful. If he didn't know it to be impossible, he would have thought this was a sign of … shudder … technology. But that was impossible, as technology had been outlawed for centuries, and no one could have developed anything of this size without giving themselves away. There were several engineers that had been taken to prison for developing technology that was found to be dangerous, so he knew this could not be technology.
"Private Simmons!" bellowed Captain Richards. "Front and centre!"
After a silent moment, a gangly teenage boy with a sword much too big for him and armour in the same state came scurrying up of the hole of the hideout where he had helped search for hidden dangers.
He came to a clumsy halt before the Captain, and gave a salute. "Sir!"
"Return to Seer's Hamlet," commanded Captain Richards. "Tell the headquarters that we need more men, and tell them to bring trackers, the best they've got available, and any mage they can convince to come out of hiding as well. We have to follow that trail if we are to get anywhere on this, we have a runaway witness we need to track down, and by all accounts, he will be hard to catch and will not give up without a fight!"
Private Simmons stood rooted to the spot, quaking in terror at the thought of going after a twelve foot tall werecat with fangs as big as a man's arm, poisonous enough to kill ten giants in seconds.
"GET A MOVE ON, MAGGOT!" bellowed the impatient Captain, suddenly mere inches from the boy's face.
With a squeak, Private Simmons took off the way they had come.
The Captain looked after the retreating form with distaste.
"New recruits," he spat. "Pah, standards must have been lowered greatly since my day … I remember we had to wrestle a weretiger to the ground with our bare hands for our fitness test … and get beaten by a troll two times a day for three months to build up endurance …"
The nearest soldier, a Corporal, knew what was coming and decided to join his fellow soldiers in the bandit hideout. Somehow, looking for hidden bandits armed to their teeth and with nothing to lose didn't sound so bad. He only got three feet before the Captain grabbed hold of his shoulder and pulled him into a companionable half embrace, which could also resemble a headlock by the casual observer.
"Ah, yes, those were the days … when men were men, and women were mistresses …" the Corporal was staring teary-eyed at the hole in the ground he now wished he had climbed down. "Those paper pushers back at headquarters – bah – damn 'em to the Undead Realm! They thought it was cruel and violent to expose recruits to what's worked for generations! Bureaucracy, m' lad, that is what'll destroy the world! Not the sword!"
While the Captain was taking a loud trip down memory lane, Corporal Nadam was staring longingly at the hole which hid the others. Those lucky bastards down there didn't have to listen to the Captain reminisce. The Corporal briefly contemplated gnawing his own neck off to escape from the lock his head was in, but couldn't bring himself to abandon his girl back home, and he didn't think he could manage to reach it with his teeth. So he was forced to suffer alone. But that didn't mean he had to face it like a man, and tears started trickling down his face.
"I know, soldier," commented the Captain sympathetically, drawing his own conclusions about the tears. "I miss those days too …"
Author's Notes; I've managed to locate a map of Jade. I found the map on; www dot gdpg dot 8m dot com slash rpg3 dot html. (Note 1; If you're having trouble imagining this car, think a cross between the newest Batmobile, a Delorian and a Landrover with a spring powered engine composed of six large and hard springs. Silver grey, thus far. But no weaponry, this is not a military vehicle … yet. And I have no idea about cars, so I'm just making stuff up as I go along. Much like everything else I write …)
