~~Yellow Press~~

part 1

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W.
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Notes: a little language warning. I used some naughty words. And as always, thanks for all the help goes to Janessa Ravenwood, this story wouldn't be the same at all.

Lights flashed and shutters snapped as Deputy Mayor Allan Finch walked up to the podium. The small gaggle of reporters swarmed around him. Hundreds of Sunnydale residents watched on TV as the emergency press briefing commenced.

"Some of you have already heard the rumors, but Mayor Richard Wilkins III has been missing for a week. In this time the military, the Initiative and our other startup civilian agencies have put all our efforts into finding him. According to our seers in the Initiative we only know that he is still alive. They claim that ambient magical energy is interfering with their divinations. As the assassin known as Prisoner Do'Urden has also escaped, we believe that he may have been involved. However, that is simple speculation."

"Mr. Deputy, who is running the government right now?"

"As the Deputy Mayor, I am currently in charge for the time being."

"Is Sunnydale going to war with Menzoberranzan over this?"

"No. The evidence that Prisoner Do'Urden kidnapped the Mayor is circumstantial at best. As per the Mayor's own wishes, he wants us to take care of the city and her people first, and to look for him only if everyone is safe. Months ago, when we first understood what had happened, he gave me explicit instructions on what to do in the case of his disappearance or death. Unlike a true national government, there was not really a line of succession. According to Mayor Wilkins' wishes I will be acting Mayor until elections will be held in three months."

"What kind of elections are we talking about?"

"The current cabinet will be discussing exactly how this is going to work tomorrow, but I will sum up the basic plan we have set forth. There will be democratic elections in the upcoming months. Sunnydale and the new villages outside the city proper will be split up into voting regions. Each region will elect their representatives. Political factions will have to be registered by the end of the month. This will be using the European system of many parties rather than the US system of two. It was decided that two parties would not accurately portray the needs and wants of the increasingly diverse nature of the new Sunnydale, so we must seek to give everyone a voice in every faction."

"Won't this make the political scene more chaotic?"

"In a way, yes, but it will more accurately portray Sunnydale in its entirety. Citizens will be able to vote upon turning 18. As per the Mayor's wishes, the orc village to the west, now under the auspice of the Ilneval voting region, will be included in Sunnydale as residents and will be eligible to vote as full citizens. This will also apply to nonviolent intelligent non-humans currently in Initiative incarceration on a case by case basis."

"Why are the orcs getting a cart blanche towards citizenship?"

"You might recall that the Mayor did so for all human illegal residents when Sunnydale arrived here. They will have to work hard to be part of our society and they will be under our laws. We cannot expect to enforce laws on people who are not our citizens. That makes us no better than tyrants."

"Where will the representatives meet?"

"For now they will meet in the large conference room in City Hall, but we hope to have a proper capitol building in place by next fall."

"Mr. Finch, will you be running?"

There was a long pause before Allan Finch responded.

"I never wanted to be anything more than a civil official. I think I have done well in that regard when it comes to my work as the Deputy Mayor of Sunnydale. I never wanted to be anything more. That said, I will not be running for the position of President, Prime-Minister, Grand-Poobah or whatever-you-want-to-call-it of the Nation of Sunnydale. I will, however, be running for the position of Mayor of the cityof Sunnydale. I would be the head of the city and have the city council to discuss things with, but there would be no national responsibility on my shoulders. There are others better at international politics than I."

"So who is running?"

"Anyone who wishes to run should apply in person at the Sunnydale City Hall where we will be forming a multilateral electoral committee. No one who is married to, related to or in relations with anyone running will be on the committee. We want to keep this clean and make sure there is as little corruption as possible."

"How is this going to impact the Summit of the North that we have been hearing rumors about?"

"The Summit will be continuing. We want that to be a symbol of unity and trade. By tossing it up because of our own problems we are disregarding everything that we want to show. Instead of the vernal equinox we will be having the Sunnydale Expo and Summit five weeks after the new government takes office."

A week passed. Housecraft was running; William Kendall, the vainest man in Sunnydale and the father of Harmony Kendall, was running; and Butters, a fyarl demon with no pants, was running. There was talk of others running but that was it at this point. There was still a month for people to register as candidates. Rumors were that Jesus Juan Rodriguez, the Latino leader, was considering a run. Despite expectations, the Shaman of Ilneval was not running, having surprised everyone by taking the separation of church and state seriously. Which is what he said to the press, dressed up in a custom made suit and translation amulet.

"I want orcs to be better than they are. I want them to grow and learn and then teach their younger generations."

"Then wouldn't you running help in that goal?" the woman asked, before holding the microphone in front of the Shaman.

"One cannot serve two masters. I serve Ilneval. I cannot also serve Sunnydale with all its wants and needs. Any priest who thinks they can is a fool and a dangerous man." The orc shaman stood up straight and pulled slightly on his lapels like he saw the Mayor do on occasion.

"Is that a reference to Samuel Housecraft, the Baptist preacher who has chosen to run?" the reporter for Sunnydale Daily News had a glint in her eye like she had just caught the perfect story.

"As I said, you cannot serve two masters. One must be ignored to take care of the other's needs. One can lie and pretend to serve both, but one can never truly serve so."

"So who will you be voting for in the upcoming election?"

"I will vote for who will help my people best. I shall listen and I shall vote according to what Ilneval tells me in my soul. I will know what is right."

"Are you going to tell your people who to vote for?"

"No. If one does not play the game, one is a cheater is he not? They will know for themselves who to vote for."

"What do you think of William Kendall?"

"I do not know. I have not heard him speak so I will not say."

"What about Butters?"

"Anyone who wears no pants in this weather is a powerful being, but not a true leader. If we all took our pants off in this biting cold, there would be no further generations, if one can understand my meaning. I will not be voting for Butters."

"Thank you, Shaman."

"Get up, monkey," snarled Copy-Drizzt. The Mayor stood up slowly, but the drow grabbed him by the arm. "We have an audience with Matron Baenre."

The Mayor had been living in two of the few remaining cells in House Do'Urden for two weeks. A wall had fallen between them creating a sort-of two room suite. He survived on water and what little food Copy-Drizzt was allowing him to have. He had made his own latrine and tried to keep his body as clean as possible. Luckily for him, the ancient aqueducts that once provided running water now were funneling water directly into his cell. His sleeping area was mostly dry, but the rest was very wet. The water was warm and kept him clean and moderately healthy. He had lost some weight in the meantime and was looking rather good, if he did say so himself.

"So who is this Matron Baenre?"

"She is the undisputed leader of all Menzoberranzan," Copy-Drizzt said as he dragged the human along after him. "Nothing happens in this city without her agreement, regardless of whether she gives permission or not."

"Something of a tyrant, I'm guessing."

"By other humans' standards, yes, but I don't think you have the right to talk."

"I happen to be a very good Mayor. I always keep my campaign promises."

"I doubt you were ever elected."

"Oh, no. I'm very serious about politics. Very serious."

"So is Matron Baenre."

The gates of House Baenre were made of mystical spider webs that were stronger adhesives than nearly anything else. Anything that touched them stuck and set off alarms. Luckily for Copy-Drizzt, he was expected. The gates opened for him and he entered the compound, dragging his human captive behind him. Guards, the real ones, patrolled along side the two, watching their every move. Faerie fire lit up the pathways so even Mayor Wilkins could see the terrifying beauty of House Baenre. Soon they were lead into an exquisite dome where an ancient drow sat on a glowing, hovering disk. She emanated power from her clothing and the gems on her fingers to the bauble around her neck and the icy glare she placed on Copy-Drizzt and his captive. Her daughters were no less imposing, standing behind her with their hands resting on their snake headed whips and Lloth's heads over their breasts. It was beautiful and it was impressive and it was oppressive. Beauty and Terror were one.

"So," she said. "This is not something I expected. Drizzt Do'Urden to return without his siblings or Bregan D'arth. And dragging something behind him no less. Speak."

"Yes, Honored Matron," Copy-Drizzt said in reverence. "I, however, am not the Drizzt your pet was sent to find. I am actually from a slightly different world altogether." He continued speaking, telling her of his upbringing. He told her of his blooding. Of his exploits in bringing House Do'Urden far in the political sphere of Menzoberranzan politics. He told of his incarceration in Sunnydale and his escape. "And this, Honored Matron, is Mayor Wilkins, the leader of that new city. I offer him as a gift to you. Anything he knows or possesses is yours and his city is ripe for the picking."

Matron Baenre was not amused.

"I have no need of a surface city," she said. "Kill the human. The male will be sacrificed to Lloth."

Before Copy-Drizzt could stop it, he watched as a sword cut through the Mayor's back and out the front. He spun around and blocked a sword coming from the other direction. He dispatched his attacker, killed another and then everything paused as the Mayor got back up.

"Golly gee, now that wasn't very nice, now was it?" protested the Mayor as if speaking to a three year old. He dusted himself off and picked at the sword hole in his suit. "That was the only suit I brought with me. No needle and thread is going to fix that slice. And the tie, my granddaughter bought me that for Christmas one year."

Matron Baenre grinned, her teeth stark white against her onyx skin. "Drizzt Do'Urden, I would say you have earned yourself a stay of execution."

Samuel Housecraft was an imposing man. In his late 40's, he was over two meters tall and had a presence about him that he had built from years of evangelizing and proselytizing. His hair was still mostly black, but his face had a pale, cadaverous complexion that made him look more like Lurch from the Addams Family than your friendly neighborhood preacher.

"Mr. Housecraft, you are something of a controversial figure here in Sunnydale," the reporter said. "Why have you, a preacher and evangelist, chosen to run for public office?"

"Though I respect Mayor Wilkins for getting us through these difficult few months, I disagree greatly with the direction he has taken Sunnydale," Housecraft said. "Though I must admit we are not in Hell, there are still many souls in this town that need saving."

"Would you please elaborate on that?"

"This obsession with 'magic' is a stain upon our souls. The Bible tells us that sorcery is a sin," Housecraft began. "We must cleanse our society of this evil. Only through the work of our own hands, a good and Christian task, can we save ourselves and the souls of those poor people slaving away. It is our holy duty to be charitable towards them and save them from the sins they have embraced."

"So you have no problem proclaiming your faith?"

"No, I think we need a firm hand in this new world and my faith can give me that power," the preacher said.

"The Shaman of Ilneval says one cannot serve two masters, how would you respond to that?"

"The good orc would be most mistaken. My faith tells me how to act, how to speak and how to treat my neighbors. God doesn't just guide me, he guides all of us. In that I am always serving one master."

"Thank you, Mr. Housecraft."

"It was a pleasure."

The reporter pointed to the right screen as Housecraft finished. "You see that? He just lost the election."

"You really think so, Molly?" her boss asked. He was a middle-aged man whose waist was about the same as his age. "I don't know, he's got a lot of followers. They aren't going to like you asking him hard questions."

"I don't play softball, Joe," Molly said, taking the tape out of the machine. "There isn't any corporate office to tell me to hold off. I'm going for the kill and I'm going to do it whenever I want."

"Just be careful," Joe said as he took a big bite from his sub. Molly made a face as the juices squirted out onto his shirt. "You remember that girl that got attacked? Well, rumor has it he's the one who started it all."

"Amy Madison? Yeah, I know he's the slimebag who told them without telling them," Molly said. "Housecraft is smart. He knows no one will arrest him so long as he doesn't take any action or directly tell people to kill or attack. He's willing to throw around words like 'evil' or 'sin' but he always phrases it like he's looking out for everybody else."

"Just be careful, I don't want you to get hurt in this."

"Joe, just wait. I haven't even started yet."

Ranma stood in front of his students. His class had grown. Somehow word had gotten out and every day more people arrived at the site. Some went to watch, but others honestly wanted to learn. He was now teaching three classes of martial arts, each of a different level.

The beginners class was the largest by far. This was where most of the soldiers were forced to remain until Ranma deemed them disciplined enough to move up. Unfortunately, orc culture was so focused on rage that they were still mostly considered beginners. Some parents who brought their children to class were concerned by the presence of the soldiers (Ranma had mentally put all the members of his original class into the category of 'soldiers' for ease of remembering them), but Ranma eased their own worries by bringing his own children to class. He then started encouraging parents of bullies to start bringing their kids to class to give them some discipline as well.

The middle level was much smaller and consisted of those who had achieved enough skill and discipline to advance. There were only fifteen people in the class. Five of them were people who had practiced martial arts before and had the discipline Ranma demanded. The other ten were people who advanced from the beginner's class.

The third class consisted of three students and he was married to one of them. Akane Tendo worked as hard at her art as she always had. This time she actually had someone who respected her. It had taken a long time for them to get where they needed to be, but Ranma was finally getting over his fear of hurting her. He was training her so she wouldn't be hurt in the future. But what really surprised Ranma was how fun it was. He had spent so much time agonizing over it that he never realized how much more they could do.

Drizzt Do'Urden was the second student of the final class. The dark elf had felt like he was loosing his edge. He needed to learn how to adapt. Ranma was not sure what had happened, but there had been some paradigm shift in the elf's world view recently. Fighting without weapons was new to the elf and seemed to be an interesting challenge. He adapted almost as well as Ranma did himself, but his technique was much less refined…

The final slot had gone to an individual that Ranma had found looking lost and alone. Kaanry Vhok was the most unusual student. The cambion was looking for something to do. He had quickly found himself better than almost anyone else at any physical activity he wanted to do. Martial arts had been a challenge. Ranma had to admit he had the discipline required and he had plenty of experience at martial pursuits. The Art, on the other hand, was something different, something to dedicate one's life towards.

"Excuse me! Missus? Missus Maclay? I'd like to have a word," Molly called out, running after the blonde woman. The middle-aged witch looked over her shoulder and pulled her shoulders back.

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

"As one of the most active members of the magical community I wanted to get your opinion on the upcoming election," Molly asked. The older blonde woman shook her head sadly.

"I'll be frank, it seems rushed," Evelyn Maclay replied. "We usually have a long time to see what each candidate has to offer and where they stand. With just three months it doesn't seem like we have enough time to really make a decision."

"What are your opinions on the candidates so far?"

"I know nothing about Mr. Kendall, but Housecraft would be a horrible choice," the older witch said. "Anyone who encourages attacks on teenaged girls would ruin us all."

"Are you talking about the attack on Amy Madison?"

"Yes," Evelyn Maclay growled through gritted teeth.

"But there was no evidence that he was directly involved."

"Just because he didn't say 'go hit that girl with a brick' doesn't mean he didn't tell them to do it," the witch said. "Just listen to his sermons. He labels us as sinners and devil worshippers. He's a bigot. And worse, he's a bigot with power."

"He seems to have the fastest growing congregation in Sunnydale," Molly said. "That must mean that some people think he has the right idea."

"Yeah, well, some people thought the same about Hitler and we all know how that worked out," Evelyn said with just a hint of a snarl.

"You're comparing him to Hitler?"

"All he needs is the mustache."

"It's perfect, Joe," Molly said in the viewing room. "We'll be able to show the special this weekend."

"Molly, it looks like you're targeting him," Joe said worriedly. "You're turning the witch hunt back around at him. Whatever happened to fair reporting?"

"It never existed. The man's a bigot. He's no different from Strom Thurman running on the Segregation ticket back in the day," Molly said. "He's just found a segment of the population that isn't explicitly covered by the civil rights laws."

"Just try to get the other side, too," Joe said, a worried look on his face.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm just going to use psychology on myside," Molly said.

"What side is that?"

"Whatever gets me a story."

Jesus Juan Rodriguez was just about to step into the Constitutional Committee meeting when Molly Rogers caught up behind him.

"Mr. Rodriguez, I was wondering if I could have a few moments of your time," she asked, holding out the microphone in front of her.

"Of course, but I must be in the meeting soon," he said.

"I was just wondering if the rumors of you running for President were true," Molly asked.

"No, they are not. I'll be running for our local representative in my district, but I will not be running for a federal position," he replied.

'Ah, stepping stone,' Molly thought to herself. "Then could I get your opinion on those who have already put forth their candidacy?"

"I have not made a decision. When I have you can ask me then."

"How will I know when that will be?"

"You won't," he said with a smile as he pushed the door open, kicking some snow out of the way.

"What platform are you running on for representative?"

"That I will do what is best for Sunnydale and for the people who vote for me," he said. "If you want any more, approach me at a time when I am not late for a meeting."

"Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez."

Weeks passed and things changed. It ended up with Kendall running on an isolationist platform. This was getting mixed reviews from all sides.

"Mr. Kendall, why do you support isolationism?"

"We need to look out for ourselves first, not worry about the surroundings," he said. "Every time we let one of these monsters in, we have to feed them, clothe them and clean up after them. They aren't producing anything to warrant the cost. I feel we need to strengthen our borders and start working on our own industries first."

"But won't that be a clear step backwards from Mayor Wilkins' work since the Shift?" Molly asked getting into the heavy parts of it.

"Yes, to a degree," Kendall said. "But SunnyRail is a worthless endeavor for us. It's too costly. We should be using the iron and building up our own industries here, not other places. We need a strong base first before we can build upwards."

"You have frequently been heard speaking against the amount Mayor Wilkins asked of the general populace, what exactly do you see as the worst thing he's done?" Molly asked.

"Requiring manual labor of everyone," Kendall said. "Using hard labor as a punishment is something we got rid of a long time ago. He was being a tyrant with that. Then there are the taxes he's putting on us in terms of labor. We can't build up our society if we're always doing something for someone else."

"What would the first big change you would make if elected?"

"I would remove the businesses currently run by the government and put them back into private hands. I don't want the government telling me how much a doctor can see me for or what banks I can go to. We're becoming practically a communist state."

"Those are some powerful words," Molly said. "How do you think you'll match up against John Housecraft in the upcoming elections?"

"Even if we don't agree, I think that John and I will both have a good go of it and try our best," Kendall said, not really answering the question.

"Any last things you want to say to the voting public?"

"I promise less taxes, less invasion under the auspice of immigration, and better wages," Kendall said before walking away. When he vanished into the building, Molly shared a high five with her cameraman.

"What a maroon!" Molly snickered as the man passed out of sight.