I'd just like to offer a comment to whoever it was who reviewed Nexus II and told me to stop trying to make my fics funny, because I'm not good at it: you're a bad man, and you made me cry!
Also, for the person who asked for a page that offers character lists and bios, I'd like to say that I already have one, and it, along with all the others, is at my webpage https://www.angelfire.com/anime5/fanficlair
And to all the people who complained about the immoral brutality in the last chapter: meh.

Guardian
Chapter 17
Culmination of the Expected

**********************************************************************************

"Do we have a deal?"
"...... I suppose. But this is... quite unsatisfactory."
"It cannot be helped. We suffered a rather severe setback recently."
"That is hardly an excuse! We're paying double what we used to!"
"It's a simple purchase. Either you buy it, or you don't. If you want our weapons, you pay our prices. You HAVE other sources..."
The Yakuza representative scowled. "We'll pay. But if your prices don't get better, we may have to stop being so generous in the future. You need us for more than just extra cash flow."
The Freedom's Angel sergeant fought a grin. "Noted. I'll talk to my superiors about it. But I assure you, we're doing the very best we can."
"That's what I'm afraid of," the other man grumbled. "The Yakuza will only support you terrorists so long as you have weapons and money to offer; once you are no longer able to meet our... 'business requirements', we may have to find...... other clients."
The sergeant's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything, well aware that he didn't currently have enough firepower at his disposal to risk angering the Japanese mob. "Very well. I'll be on my way, then."
*BLAM!!* "Gurk!"
The Yakuza and Angel both jerked around in surprise as a shotgun blast tore into the latter's bodyguard, sending the man's corpse hurtling into the wall of the alleyway.
The terrorist's eyes widened, and his face went pale. "No... it... it's you!"
*BLAM!!*

The Yakuza flinched at the second gunshot, and backed away several steps from the sight of his business partner's corpse as it fell to the ground.
Snake walked calmly into the alleyway, his still-smoking shotgun resting over his shoulder. Then he looked at the second terrorist's dead body, and grinned.
"W00T! Headshot!"
The Yakuza representative gaped, then shakily pointed at the police officer. "Wh-Wh-What are you waiting for?!" He shouted to his own bodyguard behind him, "Shoot him!"
*Thud!* The man declined to reply as his unconscious form fell face-first onto the concrete, and the remaining criminal barely suppressed a squeal of terror as he saw a second police officer with a pigtail standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest condescendingly.
The Yakuza clutched the briefcase that held the costly plastic explosives to his chest. "Wh-Who are you people?"
*Cha-chak!* Snake cocked his Pancor Jackhammer, and smiled pleasantly as he aimed it at the remaining criminal. "We're just your friendly neighborhood state-sponsored thug-killing squad!"
"Th-This is insane!" The Yakuza protested. "You just killed two men and assaulted one more! Do you even have a warrant to arrest us?"
"I gotcher warrant right here!" Ranma said, rushing up and striking the man in the stomach, and then slamming his head down once he had doubled over.
*Thack!* The briefcase hit the pavement right before the man did, and the improperly locked sealing clips came loose, causing wrapped-up bricks to bounce and scatter across the width of the alleyway.

Ignoring the groan from the beaten Yakuza, Snake grinned and picked up one of the explosives. "Top-quality C-4. Nice. I see the Angels haven't stopped their arms trade despite being out a whole lotta arms."
Ranma picked up the briefcase that the terrorist had been holding, and carefully shook it several times to get most of the excess blood off before opening it.
"Whoa! Check out all the cash!"
Snake looked over to where Ranma was observing the case's contents and nodded happily. "Sweet! That's gonna buy a nice piece!"
Ranma blinked. "Huh? But shouldn't we turn it in to the proper authorities?"
"Hello!!" Snake shouted in Ranma's ear, causing the other man to wince, "Is that a badge on your shirt, or isn't it? We are the proper authorities!"
Ranma raised an eyebrow. "So... we turn it in to... us?"
The lieutenant nodded.
"And... it's okay to use it for personal expenses?" The pigtailed cop continued, scratching his head. "I mean, the way you say it, makes sense, sort of... but I'm almost positive there's something wrong with all this."
Snake snorted. "Well, what else are we going to use it for? It's not like it's good for evidence; all those involved are already dead."
"No, only half of them are dead," Ranma corrected him, pointing to the crooks who were merely unconscious.
Snake blinked, then shrugged. "Well, okay." Then he raised his shotgun and pointed it at the nearest Yakuza lying on the ground.
"ON SECOND THOUGHT," Ranma said loudly, pushing Snake's shotgun back down, "let's just take the money and leave."
"That's the spirit!" The lieutenant said brightly, slapping Ranma on the back. Then he raised a fist into the air.
"THE DEPARTMENT OF ABNORMAL PHENOMENAE CONTAINMENT IS BACK IN TOWN!! PAR-TAY!!"
__________________________________________________________________________________

*Rattattattattattatta!!*
The sound of automatic fire momentarily rose above the screams of terrified citizens coming from the subway station as two thugs bearing the cobra and barbed wire bicep tattoo ran from the stopped train, both carrying Russian surplus rifles in one hand and sacks of miscellaneous stolen goods in the other.
"Outta the way, chumps!" One man shouted, releasing another spray of bullets into the hanging sign that marked the escalator up to the streets.
The other terrorist grinned as people rushed for the walls and ducked their heads down, clearing the way for the pair of gunmen. He took immediate advantage and rushed up the moving stairwell, followed momentarily by his partner, who had stopped to put a burst into the police kiosk at the edge of the station where the unarmed security official was huddling for his life.

The first terrorist shoved his rifle in his sack as he emerged from the station, not wanting to attract so much attention in an open area. Following the same plan he had carried out half a dozen times before, he moved through the crowd of confused and cautious pedestrians standing outside the station entrance and searched for a slow-moving car among the relatively free-flowing traffic that would be easy to take once he flashed his gun at the driver.
He had just located such a vehicle when his partner tapped him on the shoulder, having already concealed his own weapon. "Hey man, check them out! We got time for a little fun?"
His partner frowned as he turned toward his companion. "Of course we don't have time for... for......"
He trailed off as he started to stare himself at two beauties, a luscious blonde and a busty redhead, were nervously discussing something several meters down the street. They were both wearing form-fitting spaghetti-strap tops and miniskirts, and had such innocent and frightened expressions that it seemed they were begging for trouble.
The apparent leader of the two thugs licked his lips. "Well, it's been a hard day. I guess we can spare some... 'leisure time'. But we're gonna have to make it REAL quick, eh?"
"I copy that," the second man said, following as his companion began to sprint down the sidewalk.
The young women apparently noticed their approach, and quickly turned and fled. After only a few paces, however they turned into an open factory loading gate that was shielded from view by a large concrete wall, perhaps under some impression that the two criminals wouldn't notice their hiding spot.
The lead thug grinned, and put some extra energy into his run as he turned into the gate. "SURPRISE!!"

Junko winked at the two terrorists, leaning backwards on the left side of the Firestorm tank. "Yeah, I'll bet it is."
The criminals gaped, too stunned to even remember they possessed weapons of their own (as if it would have made a difference) as the massive turret gun of the assault tank lowered itself such that they could see right down it's imposing barrel.
Sitting on the right edge of the tread shielding, Sakura giggled, and made a "V" sign with her fingers. "Peace!"
*KA-KROOM!!*
__________________________________________________________________________________

*This is unit dispatch seven, requesting armed backup! Suspects are heavily armed and heading towards heavily congested areas! We will not be able to contain civilian casualties if the suspects aren't stopped immediately!*
*This is dispatch five! The suspects have opened fire on pursuit units! They have a damn machine gun mounted on the back of that truck! Halting pursuit!*
*No! We have to stop them before they hurt innocent bystanders!*

*CRUNCH!!*
The entire front half of the police car crumpled like a wad of tissue paper as the vehicle smashed into the utility pole, having swerved onto the sidewalk to avoid the lethal stream of .50 caliber lead coming from the heavy machine gun mounted on the back of the old pickup truck rocketing down the street.
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!" The terrorist standing behind the heavy machine gun mount in the back of the pickup laughed as the wind whipped through his hair, savoring the sight of several police vehicles plowing into the side of the road to avoid getting shot up.
"What's the matter, pigs?! You giving up already?!" Grinning, the truck's gunner began to open fire at random points all over the street, sending screaming pedestrians onto the ground as a bullets sprayed overhead.
*Rattattattattattattattattatta!!* "Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Yeah! Whaddya think o' that?!"
Largely ignoring his companion's psychotic antics, the slightly saner driver of the truck weaved hastily through the fairly thick traffic that struggled to get out of the battle car's way.
Seeing an intersection's traffic stop ahead, the driver gave a sigh of relief as he sped forward, glad that the light had just turned green for him (he didn't want to risk hitting another car at high speed, but it would have been kind of embarrassing for an armed terrorist vehicle to stop for a red light).
Feeling assured in their escape from their pursuers, the terrorists barrelled through the intersection, well aware that the heavier traffic further toward the center of the city would complicate the authorities' chase.
*SMASH!!!*
Unfortunately for the rather reckless pair, an even more reckless driver shot out into the intersection at the last moment, clipping the very end of the truck bed as it sped by at nearly twice the speed of the terrorist vehicle.
Screaming in surprise, the gunner was killed instantly as he flew headfirst into the engine of a stopped car, while the driver lived to suffer in prison, his vehicle being knocked on its side by the impact rather than crashing into anything else.

Looking back at the crash, Tiro grinned, then turned forward. "Nice one! You totally nailed them!"
Tycho blinked. "Nailed who?"
"..... Uh..." Tiro scratched his head. "That truck back-"
"There was no truck," Tycho said sternly, not taking his eyes off the road. "How could there have been a truck? The light was yellow."
Now Tiro blinked. "But... no, it was-"
"THE LIGHT WAS YELLOW WHEN I STARTED ACROSS THE INTERSECTION!! REMEMBER?!" Tycho shouted, still facing strictly forward.
"Er... yeah. Yellow. Right. I don't know what I was thinking..."
__________________________________________________________________________________

*Defense armor unit T-1-B781 activated. Activating subroutines... failed. Rerouting command routine input mode... input diagnostic complete. Please upload command subroutines now.*
The large M-3 unit, which was a heavily armored, low mobility defense drone sat motionlessly on its heavy triangle tread base, its twin Gatling gun arms hanging limply at its sides in the inactive mode, and the red sensor light of its optical visor darkened.
"Heh heh heh heh!" Ranma chuckled evilly as he typed in a precise series of numbers into the taskbar at the top of the laptop screen.
"Heh heh heh heh..." Kyle's chuckling was only slightly more subdued as he held a flashlight up to the "Killer Robot Subroutine Programming For Dummies" book he was reading; the hidden warehouse was too dark to read in otherwise, and the two infiltrators didn't want to risk turning on the light.
"Okay, the next line is 'IF: attack process.hurt, THEN: initiate=suicide.boom. Got that?"
"Got it!" Ranma said, typing in the last lines of code. "Okay then..." Activating the execute command, Ranma quickly disconnected the laptop and stood up, moving into a defensive stance in case something went wrong.
*Vrrrrrrrr...* A light humming noise came from the T-1's internal computer as it began to warm up, and the head jolted upward as power was restored.
*T-1 UNIT B781 ACTIVATED. COMMAND SUBROUTINE 7-2-1 INITIALIZED. SUBROUTINE OVERRIDE INITIALIZED. UPLOADING NEW PROGRAM DATA...... COMPLETE. ENGAGING PATROL SUBROUTINE 4-2.*
The large defense robot's torso swiveled around on its base, and the automaton stopped dead as its sensor visor locked onto Ranma and Kyle, who were staring up at it expectantly.
*TARGETS SIGHTED. SCANNING... TARGETS IDENTIFIED: "GOOD GUYS". INITIATING PROGRAM 3.79.*
The robot raised one of its gun-arms into the air, then jerked it forward in a clumsy imitation of a wave.
*'SUP, DAWG?*
Ranma and Kyle grinned and touched fists as the defense droid swiveled around, searching for other targets.
"Hey! What's going on down there!" A lone security guard at the disguised Wraith warehouse burst into the main storage room, and immediately ran up to the railing of the upper catwalk he was on, scanning the relatively large room with his flashlight. "I know I heard something! Come out!"
*TARGET SIGHTED.*
"What?!" The terrorist on guard quickly focused in on the sound, and oriented his flashlight accordingly.
Needless to say, he was quite surprised when, instead of seeing some crooks, fellow terrorists, or government spies crawling around the interior of the warehouse, the first hint of movement he saw was a blood red sensory visor staring up at him.
*TERMINATION PROGRAM 110 INITIATED.* *Whrrr...*
The guard swallowed deeply as the Gatling guns slowly began to spin.
*ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US!* *BraZAZAZAZAZAZAZOW!!*
The lone terrorist died instantly as twin streams of lead cut his torso apart, spreading blood, gore, and bits of shattered bone all over the wall behind the security catwalk.
As soon as it had confirmed the target's destruction, the T-1 robot turned toward the many inactive defense droids lined up from one end of the warehouse to the other.
*DESTROY ALL ROBOTS! ANNIHILATE ALL ENEMIES! KILL! KILL!! KILL!!!*
*BraZAZAZAZAZAZAZAZAZAZAZAZAZAZAZOW!!*
__________________________________________________________________________________

Outside one of Wraith's smaller branch offices, a young terrorist trainee (classified as an "intern" on Wraith's payroll system) nervously stepped up to a luxury sedan parked in one of the executive spaces, his hand shaking as he placed the key into the door's keyhole.
Right outside the building's main entrance, a Wraith executive, and one of the Freedom's Angels' primary financers waited patiently, relatively far away from his vehicle as the younger man unlocked the door and slid inside.
Such precautions were commonplace among the higher-ups in the criminal and pointlessly militaristic organizations; those below you, and those among your peers who may have felt threatened by your actions were always trying to catch you with your guard down to remove obstacles to their advancement. Car bombs were extremely rare in the Japanese underworld, but not unheard of, and certain people, for whatever stupid reason, seemed to enjoy mimicking gang tactics from American shows and movies (which is why the unlucky "car starters" were also required to try the cigarette lighter before stepping out of the vehicle).
The younger terrorist had more on his mind, however, as he prepared to insert the car key into the ignition. FA resources and personnel had begun dropping like flies recently, and while no one could pinpoint the cause among the wildly flying rumors, two things were clear: Freedom's Angels were being specifically targeted, and whoever was killing them off liked explosives. A LOT.
Closing his eyes and mentally repeating for the thousandth time that he didn't get paid enough for this, the intern inserted the key and turned it.
*Vr-Rrrr...*
*KA-KROOOOOOOOOOOM!!!*

Eyes shooting open in shock, the young man gaped as glass poured down from the sky in a sudden torrent, having been blasted out of the windows by huge gouts of flame as explosions rocked the office building above.
His boss, fortunately, or unfortunately, or whatever, was at the very base of the structure, and was pulverized instantly as multiple bombs tore the foundation and supports apart, causing the lower levels to burst outward like over-inflated balloons.
Wincing as chunks of concrete and glass dashed across the hood and cracked the main windshield, the intern shifted the vehicle out of park and quickly accelerated backward, trying to avoid the torrent of debris and dust that poured forth as the entire building began to go down.

The young terrorist, though he did survive, didn't completely avoid getting caught beneath the wave of dust and destruction, and never saw the bursts of confetti, released by special explosives at the top of the devastated structure, rain down festively before settling among the shattered concrete below.
Nor did he see the large banner that had likewise been released, fully deployed and slowly wafting down such that all could see its message proudly displayed in large red font.
[WELCOME BACK DAPC!]
__________________________________________________________________________________

"Yes... uh huh... I know about that... really? Yes, that's all true..." Asuka absently repeated empty confirmations into the phone receiver as she finished signing some paperwork. "I'm sure it was just horrible... that's true, but no civilians were killed, and all enemy targets were silenced. You have to give him that."
After sealing the requisition form into an envelope, she took hold of the receiver wedged between her ear and shoulder and paid more attention to the man on the other end.
"The buildings can be rebuilt, sir. With any luck, the deaths of the terrorists will preserve the lives of far more innocent people... yes sir, I'm well aware that we've failed to properly arrest a single suspect in our recent proceedings. Is that a problem? ...... Well, our procedures don't work like the normal police. We have a policy of resorting to force as soon as a danger is confirmed... well, I don't know exactly what constitutes a 'danger' to my men, sir, but they are fully authorized to use their own judgment... yes, even Snake, the crazy one... well, not exactly, no, it wasn't my idea. But we've been doing a spectacular job so far...... well I would have to assume that's because you have to pick up the mess left over each operation or terrorist attack... okay, fair enough, there HAVE been many more DAPC operations than FA attacks over the last week since we took over... yes, all right, there haven't been ANY attacks from the terrorists, but I'd like to think that's due at least in part to our efforts in rooting them out, something that your precious Core divisions have had very little success in."
Asuka maintained a perfectly neutral expression as the voice on the other end of the line became far more irate.
Switching the receiver to her other ear, she continued speaking calmly. "Well sir, I'm sure you're aware that everything you've complained about is completely within the legal spectrum of our operations as outlined in our revised jurisdiction protocols... that's right, everything... yes, even the confetti bomb... I have no excuses for their taste in jokes sir, but we did take out a large terrorist structure...... yes, I know. It belonged to Wraith."
She frowned. "I thought everyone knew that Wraith was a cover for the terrorist operations... well how do you THINK they developed biogenetic weapons? That stuff is hardly available on the black market... yes, as a matter of fact I am mocking you... I mean that with all due respect, of course."
Moving the receiver away from her ear for a few moments, Asuka quickly scanned a few of the documents lying on the desk in front of her. Then she put the receiver back to her ear.
"As I'm sure you're aware sir, section 9 of our new operating protocols clearly states that because of the often unpredictable and unidentifiable nature of many of the threats that qualify as 'abnormal phenomena', DAPC personnel are advised to use their own judgment and proceed with any means they deem necessary to neutralize that which they deem a threat, and are exempt from due process in law in dealing with those threats, as well as consequences of damage done and procedures violated, save in the process of friendly fire or the loss of civilian life. The incidences you've listed all fall within the realm of that article."
She stopped to listen for a moment, then smirked. "Why yes, now that you mention it, terrorists and giant evil corporations that support terrorists don't qualify as 'abnormal phenomena' at all. But oddly enough, section 9 is actually applicable toward, as I just stated, 'that which they', meaning we, 'deem a threat'."
Asuka's smirk grew to a full smile as she heard the man's response. "Why yes, I suppose that does sound like an excuse to do whatever we want. You'd think governor Yujikata would have enough legal experience to notice a little loophole like that in his policies."
Turning around, Asuka scooted up to sit on her desk, dangling her legs over the edge. "I don't know what to tell you sir, we're operating as best we can under the restrictions we've been placed under. As of now our objectives stand to reduce the capabilities of the Freedom's Angels so that they never muster the strength and resources to launch an attack like they did two weeks ago. To that end, we're to investigate and neutralize sources of income, weapons production facilities, weapons development facilities, financers, key personnel, officers of different branches who seem more interested in hindering our efforts than destroying the enemy..."
Asuka raised an eyebrow as she heard the other line disconnect. "Hello? Sir?"
Smirking, she then replaced the receiver on the phone base and left her office, snatching up a special document along the way.

"So all I'm saying is that I don't think flamethrowers should be considered inhumane weapons; I mean, when you think about it, what weapons ARE humane, really?" Snake leaned down over the table and pulled back his pool que, closing one eye as he imagined the kinetic path of the ball on the other end.
*Thack!* *Clack* *Clack* *Thump*
"Nice shot," Ranma murmured, picking up his own que and preparing for his turn. "I guess I kind of see your point, but that's sort of an argument against all weapons rather than for flamethrowers."
"Don't be ridiculous," Snake scoffed as Ranma leaned over, "if you were to ban weapons, how would we kill people?"
"Some might say that's the whole point," Junko mused, watching the game as she lounged on a sofa next to Sakura.
*Ahem!*
Ranma, Kyle, and Snake immediately dropped their pool ques and turned around at attention as Asuka cleared her throat noisily. Sakura and Junko got off the couch and stood up straight, and Tycho and Tiro, who had been playing on a Playstation in the corner in relative silence turned such that they could continue playing while still hold their captain in their field of vision.
Asuka stood before her division, arms crossed under her breasts, with a file clasped loosely in one hand.
"So. When did we convert the lobby into a gaming lounge?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Just now. Snake decided to use that money we found for some remodeling," Ranma said bluntly.
The police captain frowned. "I was only in my office for an hour!"
"I know," Kyle said, "Saotome's got this crazy super-strength thing going on. He moved all this furniture here in no time."
"Oh, whatever," Asuka mumbled, rolling her eyes. "I've got some bad news."
Everyone blinked, and general tension rose.
Asuka opened her mouth to speak, then stopped, frowned, and shook her head.
"Sorry. Force of habit. I've got some good news." She held out the folder she was carrying in front of her, not inviting anyone to take it, but to contribute significance. "We just recently got our report detailing our resources for our re-establishment. We've been given a massive starting budget to facilitate our operations and resupply our depleted vehicle pool and armory."
Snake blinked. "But... we don't have a depleted vehicle pool and armory. We just brought back all the stuff we took when they laid us off. How do they think we've been wiping the floor with the hidden terrorist cells and Wraith establishments during the last week?"
"THEY haven't a clue." The police captain said wryly. "All they know is that this building didn't contain the necessary arms to accomplish that back when everything was shut down." She opened the folder and took out a single sheet of paper, waving it around. "So we have a LOT of money and nothing to do with it."
There was complete silence in the room as the announcement sunk in.
Tycho was the first to speak. "Wow. We're going to need a bigger TV."
"And maybe a second couch," Sakura mused, "over there, to take up that space next to the water cooler."
"Which should be replaced with a mini-bar," Kyle added, "with those really expensive tiny packets of honey-roasted peanuts."
"No, a FULL BAR!" Snake shouted, pounding his fist on the table. "And a cruise missile mobile deployment platform!"
"Hey, let's build a dojo next to HQ! We don't use most of the parking lot, anyway!" Ranma said brightly.
"Ooh, can we get a holodeck?"
"We can build a merry-go-round!"
"Let's get one of those hanging television systems with the screens on all sides, like in basketball stadiums!"
"I want a pony!"
A large sweatdrop slowly rolled down Asuka's head as the requests quickly moved from the gratuitous and wasteful to the outright surreal. "Uh... look, I'll tell you what. I'm just going to put some aside for any additional department expenses, and just split up the rest into our bonuses, alright?"
"YES!!" Snake shouted happily, driving his fists into the air. "Kegger party in the men's locker room!"
"All right!"
"Sweet!"
"Wait! Let me save my game first!"

Asuka's face darkened as her company quickly evacuated the room with Kyle and Tiro carrying large steel containers over their shoulders (where they had kept those stashed so that she hadn't previously noticed, she had no idea).
"Maybe I didn't have it so bad, being unemployed," she mused bitterly, setting the folder down and beginning to add up the figures.
*Ahem!*
Asuka blinked, then turned and raised an eyebrow at Junko, who still stood at attention.
"And what are you waiting for, Chikiko? Even if I had wanted somebody to stay, you wouldn't be my first choice."
"That hurts, Captain. Really. Right here," the redhead put her hands over her heart and feigned chest pain, leaning over with a "kicked puppy" expression.
Asuka rolled her eyes. "Well, you have my attention. What is it?"
Straightening up again, Junko pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. "I've just been going through some of the papers concerning our re-establishment, and happened upon this little tidbit." She waved the paper back in forth in the air as she continued. "APPARENTLY, we're all supposed to undergo, and pass, a psyche evaluation previous to our restarting regular operations. Putting aside the fact that we already HAVE restarted regular operations ahead of schedule, it seems that sneaking this into our re-establishment protocols was the Senator's last-ditch effort to screw us up."
"Wh-What?! Let me see that!" The police captain shouted, snatching away the paper and then scanning it quickly.
Her eyes widened, and then the blue-haired woman turned back toward Junko. "Why is this the first I've heard about this? For that matter, how did you see this document before I did? Have you been going through my office?"
"That's not important," Junko said dismissively, pulling herself next to Asuka and putting an arm behind her back. "What IS important is that we pass, or else all sorts of losers have permission to do all sorts of nasty things to our department, like replacing our beloved lazy whack-jobs with straight-laced, hard-working drones sworn to serve and protect the peace."
"Yes," Asuka deadpanned, "that would be just terrible."
Either missing or ignoring the sarcasm, the redhead nodded seriously. "Right. And let's face it; if we undergo a straight, honest evaluation, we're never going to make it."
Asuka sighed and rolled her eyes. "Don't you think you're overreacting JUST a little?" She asked, turning away and heading toward the men's locker room to deliver the news. "I mean, sure, the guys are pretty soft in the head, but they're hardly certifiable psychotics."
She was about to knock on the double-doors leading to the locker room when Ranma's voice came from within.

"I dunno, guys..."
"Aw, c'mon! You have to do it! Think of it as an initiation ritual!"
"But... I just don't know about this..."
"Oh, don't be such a baby! It's simple! All you have to do is drink a whole bottle of spiced rum, and then disarm a live Claymore anti-personnel mine!"
"Yeah... but I don't drink. And besides that, I don't really know how to disarm one of those when I'm sober."
"Don't worry about it! It's easy! Besides, all the cool police officers do it!"
"Well...... if I have to do it to be cool..."

Asuka turned back around toward Junko, her left eye twitching. "So, I assume you have some sort of plan?"
Junko grinned. "Well, of course I do. We can pass the evaluation easily... if one of US is doing the evaluating!" Smiling victoriously, the redhead pulled out a small card and lifted it toward the ceiling triumphantly. "Junko Chikiko, registered and licensed therapist and psychiatrist, at your service!"
"............" Asuka stared mutely at the other woman, then smiled slightly. "Okay, okay, very funny. Nice joke. Now seriously, who can we get to do this for us?"
Junko blinked, and lowered her arm, falling out of her pose. "No, seriously. I'll do it."
"YOU?!" The captain scoffed. "There's no way you're qualified to judge ANYBODY'S mental health! Hell, you're one of the officers I'm worried about passing this thing!"
Looking rather miffed, Junko crossed her arms under her breasts. "Why, I'll have you know that-"

*BOOM!!*
"AAAUGH!!"
"MEDIC!!!"

Sweatdrops rolled down Junko and Asuka's heads as Sakura rushed past them and into the locker room.

"Oh my God! Ranma! Ooooh..." *Thud!*
"TWO MEDICS!!!"

"Anyway," Junko said, moving away from the locker room with her superior officer in tow, "I've taken the classes and I even have a degree; believe me, I know this stuff."
Asuka raised an eyebrow, not really buying it. "Then how come you're doing dangerous police work? It's not exactly in the same ballpark as therapy."
Junko sighed, and rubbed the back of her head anxiously. "Well, I used to do therapy and psychiatry as a career. And I was pretty good at it. Especially with men; I've gotten REALLY good at figuring out what they're thinking."
"I'm fairly certain you didn't have to tell me that at all," Asuka said dryly. "Continue."
"One patient I had, though, used to tell me all about how he felt his career as a police officer was lacking in the glory, danger, and excitement that it should. He would always tell me stories he had heard about officers in more dangerous countries going above and beyond the call of duty and becoming heroes, and he had always wanted to do the same." Junko sighed wistfully. "I really admired him, and connected with him very strongly, in a more meaningful way than I connected with my other patients..." Then she cleared her throat, blushing. "And in a way that got me fired after his wife found out. Anyway, after I had a really bad mark on my record as a shrink, I thought a severe career change might compensate, and, well, the old guy's stories stuck with me." She smiled. "And here I am!"
"That's a horrible, horrible story," Asuka deadpanned, "but it makes way too much sense to have been made up. I believe you. Do you really think you can get us through this?"
"THERE YOU ARE!!"
The two women whirled around at the voice to see a groggy figure drunkenly stumbling down the stairs.
"Seras?" Asuka said, blinking. "Oh, so you're here already. I'd forgotten about you."
"Forgot about me?" The technician said irritably. "That's not all you forgot! Do you know what time it is?! You're..." Frowning, he looked down at his watch, then looked back up. "Two weeks late for work! A lame excuse about your alarm clock not going off isn't going to cut it this time, missy!"
Asuka and Junko sweatdropped, and the former cleared her throat.
"Tuko... we were disbanded."
Seras blinked. "Disbanded? No, I'm pretty sure I would've heard about something like that."
"I'm not joking, here," the captain explained, exasperated, "we were all laid off a while ago. Then there was a major terrorist attack on the city, which we stopped. Then we blackmailed a senator into setting us back up."
"And WHY is this the first I've heard of it?" He said irritably.
Junko scratched the back of her head. "Well... I kinda forgot you existed, actually."
"That's not really important now," Asuka said, stepping in front of the redhead. "How could you not have known? At the very least, you should have received a letter in the mail."
Seras blinked. "Ah, yes. The mail. I should probably go home sometime to get that stuff."
"'Go home sometime'?" Asuka asked. "How long have you been up there in the lab?"
The technician frowned, and massaged his head as he tried to think of the answer. "How long ago was Christmas?"
"Okay... WHY have you been up there so long?" Junko asked incredulously.
"Because I have some respect for the LAW, that's why!" Seras said proudly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I haven't been sober enough to drive since '97!"
Then he frowned. "Wait... does all this mean that it WASN'T Yamma who stole my stash of booze?"
"That would be correct," the police captain said honestly.
Seras' frown deepened. "Uh huh... excuse me for a moment, I have to go turn something off."

Turning away as the DA's chief science technician dashed up the stairs, Asuka continued right along with her previous line of questioning. "So, do you really think you can get us through this?"
Junko opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, and then looked worriedly up the stairs, where Seras had retreated.
"Well... a slim chance is better than no chance, right?"
"Gotcha. Do what you have to do."
__________________________________________________________________________________

"Well, well, well. Igov, you HAVE been through quite a scrape, haven't you?" Yoshi Konta smiled and shook his head, stretching his latex gloves over his hands. "Both arms ripped off, a broken optics relay, a shattered spinal cluster, and... what was that last one?"
Igov grunted as he laid still on Yoshi's examination table, strapped down firmly (not that he possessed the ability to move had he not been restrained). "And respiratory unit has become degraded from tar buildup."
"Ah, yes, now I remember, although that's not a result of being inside an exploding submarine." Then he stopped and idly rubbed his chin. "But it would be SO ironic if someone who was 70% machine died from cigarettes, wouldn't it?"
"Hmph," Igov snorted, not particularly enjoying the little man's chosen topic of conversation, "the way Igov is going, will die long before cancer takes hold." His expression turned from irritated to sullen, and Yoshi felt genuine regret and sorrow coming from the man. "So many men... soldiers that trust in Igov... follow to their deaths. So many, wiped out in single blow!"
To his surprise, Igov heard Yoshi chuckling, and scowled fiercely. "What is funny?! They die for your cause! Cause they not believe in! Cause they fight for, because IGOV fight!"
"Oh, nothing," the mad genius said, still smiling. "Although I find it refreshing that you seem to actually care. What are soldiers but pawns on a board in the great game of war?"
The Russian general snorted. "Igov can only accept sacrifice of pawns in victory; if all men are dead, and battle is lost, Igov has naught to fight for."
"Point taken," the diminutive scientist said, shrugging. "Now, as for replacement limbs; I was thinking laser-guided chainsaws, but I can't build a variant that can morph into normal, functional hands. What do you think?"
Igov raised his head to look at the other man, and to his horror, discovered that the scientist's expression was completely serious. "Igov thinks you can take chainsaws and shove up you-"
"Okay, no chainsaws," Yoshi interrupted, sighing regretfully. "Well then, how about a Gatling gun and a Tesla claw?"
Igov blinked his good eye. "You have Tesla technology here?"
"Ah, yes. The latest in electro-magnetic emissions tech, all based upon the brilliant, sci-fi-ish theories of the late Nikolai Tesla." Yoshi grinned and turned toward one of his computer. "I thought you might like it."
After typing some calculations into the computer, a large platform with several articulated mechanical devices hanging from it lowered itself until Igov was within reach of its many tools.
"Now, you might feel a slight sting..." Yoshi stepped up next to the table, and was about to take control of the platform command console, when he stopped and turned toward Igov instead. "Actually, I forget, can you even feel pain?"
Igov shrugged. "Nerve clusters are based deep below outer layers of skin and armor. Only the most severe of wounds will hurt."
"So, technically, yes?" Yoshi simplified.
"Correct."
"Oh..." the scientist shrugged and turned back toward the console. "In that case, I take it back. This is going to hurt a LOT." *Beep!*
*BrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRAAAAAAK!!*
__________________________________________________________________________________

"Okay," Junko said, chewing on the end of her pen. "Snake, I've diagnosed you as being psychotically aggressive, needlessly violent, and possessing a level of careless acceptance toward murder that easily qualifies as an emotional disorder. You're a certified psychotic maniac."
Snake frowned from where he laid down on the lounge chair. "Uh... not that I'm trying to tell you how to do your job... I mean, you ARE the expert here... but aren't you supposed to ask me some questions before you make a judgment like that?"
The redhead rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine. Do you feel that my diagnosis is inaccurate or incomplete?"
"Now you're doing it on purpose," Snake said, glaring at her.
"Okay, okay." Junko sat back in her own chair and began to scribble on her notepad. "Tell me about your family."
"Well... my dad was a Japanese businessman who was transferred, through a long series of office hijinks that would make an excellent Dilbert strip, to an executive position in an oil company in Texas, in the U.S.A. That's where I got my last name from. My mother was a Rabbi's daughter who he met in a bar one night; the same bar where he spent every night because he didn't know enough English to ask for anything other than internationally known alcohols. They were both drunk enough when they talked that they didn't realize they couldn't have understood each other regardless, and as things often happen in the South, I was conceived in a Motel 6 and born just a month after a traditional Texas-style shotgun wedding."
Junko stared, completely overwhelmed, and then looked down at her notepad, which was still mostly blank.
"Okay... so... would that make you... Jewish?" The redhead asked curiously.
Snake nodded. "Yeah, though I try not to make a big deal out of it."
Junko frowned. "But you said your family celebrates Christmas. You even took a trip back to the States last year for it."
The weapons expert blinked. "What does Christmas have to do with my religion?"
"Well... it's just... uh... nevermind," Junko muttered, scribbling some more in her notebook. "How is your parents' relationship? And how was it when you were growing up?"
"It was, and is, just fine," Snake said, shrugging. "They're almost incapable of understanding each other; the only English words my dad knows are numbers, so the only questions my Mom could ask that he had any hope of comprehending were requests for money. Neither could understand the other's complaints or problems, so they never fought with each other or held conversations where someone could say something wrong. They got along great."
Junko frowned. "But you can speak Japanese and English, right?"
"Well, sure, but I wasn't about to go messing up their marriage with communication."
"Hmmm..." Making a note to check on the viability of Snake's family experience, Junko decided to move on.
"Okay. Next, I'm going to show you some ink blots, and I want you to tell me the first thing that pops into your head."
Taking out her cards, she lifted the one on top, revealing a splotch of black that looked vaguely like a butterfly.
"That reminds me of Saotome getting nailed in the gut by that claymore the other day," Snake said immediately. Then he chuckled. "Boy was he mad. Had to pluck out the shrapnel shards himself because we were all afraid he'd kill us if we got too close."
"Yes, yes, very nice," Junko said, frowning as she wrote in her notepad. [Note to self: put something humiliating in Snake's psyche record.] "On to the next one." She then raised the next card.
"A thermite bomb toasting a trench encampment."
"Hmmm... okay. Next?" Junko raised the next card.
"A machine gunner tearing apart the ranks of advancing foot soldiers."
Junko frowned, and her eyes narrowed. "Okaaaay..." then she took something out of her pocket and held it up. "Next?"
"An artillery-based tactical nuke annihilating a small military port." Snake said, again without hesitation.
Junko twitched. "Snake, this is my driver's license."
"Yes, I noticed. And it's a very unflattering picture, by the way," he noted bluntly. "What's with your hair? Did you get in an accident during your test?"
"Yeah. Okay. We are SO done here."
__________________________________________________________________________________

Kyle scratched his head, and his face scrunched up in thought. "Okay... ink blot."
Junko sweatdropped and put down the card. "No, you're supposed to tell me what you think of when you look at it."
Kyle frowned. "I think of ink. Ink blots. Because that's what I'm looking at."
Heaving a sigh, the redhead tried to think of a better way to approach the subject. "All right... what shape is the ink blot in?" She raised the card again.
The blond man looked bemused as he stared once again at the patches of black. "That would be... the shape ink makes when it's splattered on a piece of cardboard."
"Argh!" Junko grit her teeth as her hand massaged her forehead, and Kyle began to look uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, am I doing this wrong?"
"Just... just look at the ink, and tell me the first thing that comes to you that ISN'T directly related to ink."
Kyle nodded, and stared hard at the ink blot once again. "............................................."
"Kyle?" Junko asked after a while, starting to worry.
"Darn! I almost had something, and you interrupted me!"
Junko sweatdropped yet again. "You know what? Why don't we wrap this up? Go and get the next guy."
__________________________________________________________________________________

"When I was just a baby, my father engaged me to two different girls. I grew up completing quests of great courage and difficulty, with the ultimate goal of perfecting the art of combat, so that I might become the world's strongest fighter. When I was sixteen I contracted an ancient curse from a dark, forgotten land to the west, and then went back home, only to discover my family had all but abandoned me to this evil, sadistic witch who took every opportunity to ruin my life. Then she got kidnapped by space aliens, and I had to save her. That sucked."
Junko's eyes narrowed. "You're making this up as you go along, aren't you Tiro?"
"Not at all," the lecher insisted, looking indignant, "I made it up a long, long time ago."
The redhead began to massage her head again. "I think maybe I've bitten of more than I can chew, here."
Tiro shrugged apologetically. "Sorry. It's just that my life up until I joined the DAPC has just been so boring, I keep making up exciting stories about my past to tell people. At some point though, I kind of forgot how it really happened. I'm sure it was boring, though."
"Fine, fine," Junko muttered, scribbling in her notebook. "Tell me about your family. Your cousin is an evil terrorist mastermind, correct?"
"That's right. It's funny, really. Alex and Mia used to be really close. They never fought, had all the same interests, and were actually kind of apathetic and self-absorbed. Then, at some point, they just split like crazy. Mia took hold of this whole 'helping people' ideal and turned into a bit of a party girl, and Alex became completely obsessed with obtaining personal power and fighting the system." Tiro sighed. "And look where they are now. Terrorist boss and military Colonel."
Junko frowned, and looked at Tiro suspiciously. "You didn't... you know... DO anything to them when they were young that might have scarred them for life, did you?"
"Wh-WHAT?!" Tiro shot up into a sitting position at the question, his indignation having reached the point of anger. "What kind of sicko do you think I am?! They're my cousins!"
"It would hardly be unheard of," Junko clarified, though she looked appropriately embarrassed at having brought it up, "and they ARE really hot."
Tiro snorted and stood up. "I may be a lecher, but not a deviant! I keep my focus on human beings who are outside my own family between the ages of 18 and 30!"
"And women, right?" Junko asked, noticing that he forgot to mention that.
"Before my third bottle of hard liquor, yes!" Tiro finished up. "I've done some bad things in my life, but incest is NOT one of them!"
"Okay, okay, I believe you," Junko said, sweatdropping. "I'm sorry I said that. It was very insensitive." She sighed. "All right, we're done here. You can go."
Tiro blinked, immediately losing his angry indignant pose. "Wait... aren't we going to make out first?"
Junko looked at him oddly. "No... what gave you that idea?"
The lecher frowned. "So this whole 'psychoanalysis' thing isn't just an excuse to get an hour alone with all the guys?"
"No," the redhead deadpanned, making a mental note to remember that angle for later, "I'm trying to honestly do a job here."
"Damn it! Now I owe Saotome 1000 yen!"
"Oh, just get out."
__________________________________________________________________________________

"So why is it, exactly, that you have such a fondness for mechanical transportation in general?" Junko asked, tapping her pen against her notepad.
Tycho sighed, and tried to get comfortable as he lay back on the seat. "Well... I've always imagined that people are my enemies, and that society in general is trying to swallow me. Mechanical transportation offers a way to move faster than the human body is otherwise capable of, and allows the passage of otherwise indomitable obstacles, so I guess I latched onto cars and other vehicles as sort of an escape from my subconscious fears about the world around me."
"Wow... Tycho, that's... Wow." Junko said. "Thank you! This is VERY helpful!"
"Really?" The driver asked, smiling, "'Cause you know, I was totally lying!"
*Whump!* Junko fell face-first onto the floor.
"So... are you seriously not sleeping with any of your patients, or was that just an excuse to brush off Yamazaki?"
Junko groaned.
__________________________________________________________________________________

"Tuko, I've noted an... unhealthy attachment you seem to have to alcohol. Very unhealthy, actually. Obviously, you suffer a complete psychological addiction to alcoholic beverages, but the sheer extent of the addiction leads me to believe you've transcended modern definitions of the term." Junko smirked slightly at her impersonation of her instructor back in her college days, stringing out the most complex terms she could think of.
The technician just rolled his eyes at Junko's evaluation. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Addiction this, problem that. I've heard it all before. I DON'T have a problem! I can quit any time I want!"
Junko frowned. "First put down the scotch, then say that."
Seras blinked. "What? What do you mean, put it down?"
"Put the bottle down. On the floor."
Frowning, the technician did as she said, holding the bottle in his hand such that it rested on the floor of the office.
"Now let go," Junko said, sweatdropping.
Seras blinked in total incomprehension. "What? What do you mean by that?"
"Manipulate your fingers and arm such that no part of you is in contact with the bottle," she said dryly.
Once again, Seras gave her a quizzical look. "But... the bottle isn't empty!"
"JUST $&^#!^% PUT THE SCOTCH DOWN FOR ONE MINUTE!!" Junko shouted in frustration.
Frowning, the alcoholic genius stared hard at the bottle on the floor, still within his grip, trying to think of a solution to this latest problem.
"Okay, I think I can meet you halfway on this." With those words, Seras quickly upended the bottle and guzzled down its contents. After he was finished, he made a show of placing the bottle back down on the floor and then letting go before resting his hands on his chest.
Junko's face darkened, and she wrote down the appropriate notes. "Fabulous. Such excellent self-control."
Naturally, he missed the sarcasm completely. "Yeah, I told you! I don't have a problem!"
"When was the first time you tried alcohol?"
Seras' happy, drunken expression faded, and he sighed wearily. "That night... I'll never forget that night. It was the night of THE EXPERIMENT."
The technician sniffled slightly, and Junko looked on, alarmed. It was the first time she'd seen any emotion from the man other than alcohol-induced satisfaction.
"My father... Doctor Davenport Tuko the Third made a fatal error in the calculation of thermal energy released from a quantum reverse-cosine plasmite core during the moment of equilibrium with xenon disulfite gases, and suffered a huge explosion in his lab. He forgot to carry the 1."
Junko straightened, and her expression became more serious. "I see. Your father died in that explosion?"
"Oh, no," Seras said, shaking his head, "the explosion just knocked him down. He'd been through enough of them that he knew how to roll with the impact, you know?" Then he sniffled again. "But the explosion blasted open the cage where I kept my mutant man-eating parakeets, and he suffered a slow, painful death being pecked to death by the cutest little multicolored birds!" A tear rolled down his cheek as a sweadrop rolled down Junko's head. "I couldn't help myself! Overcome with grief, I entered the local tavern, and drowned my sorrows in poisonous swill! And then, after two bottles of brandy, one of gin, and I don't even KNOW how many shots of whiskey, I swore to give up the path of the mad scientist plotting world domination and absolute power, and devote myself to modern, practical scientific practice! After a few more shots, I eventually decided on medicine as a career!" Seras let out an earnest sob. "And I've been like this ever since!"
Junko patted the technician lightly on the back as his tears slowly abated, murmuring soft words of comfort.
"Okay... we all better?" Seeing Seras nod, Junko smiled. "Okay then. If it's not too painful, could you tell me about your mother next?"
"Don't have one," he said immediately, "I'm a genetically enhanced clone of my 'father'."
"G-Genetically enhanced?" the redhead stuttered, immediately nervous. The only experience she had with clones and mutants had been the Freedom's Angels' creations.
"Oh yeah! It's great! I'm stronger, smarter, and faster than my old man was! Plus I can spit poison! Wanna see?"
"Eew! No!" Junko shouted, recoiling. After writing down a few more notes, she sighed. "So you still manage to cling to the pitiful illusion that you really don't have a drinking problem, huh?"
"No, actually, I think I do have a problem," Seras muttered bitterly, sitting up. "I'm fresh out of scotch. I'm outta here."
Junko just groaned some more.
__________________________________________________________________________________

"Okay then, first off: who are you again?" Junko asked the tall, lanky man lying on her lounge chair.
The dark Latin man rolled his eyes. "Yamma. Yamma Gordon."
"Okie-dokie. And what is it you do around here, Mr. Gordon?"
The lab assistant gave her an annoyed look. "I've worked here longer than you have!"
"Yes. Yet you've had, like, a hundredth of the character focus I've gotten." Junko made some marks in her notepad. "Answer the question, please."
"I'm a lab assistant, medical professional, and general service technician under Seras Tuko," Yamma groused.
"I see. What made you choose a career like that?"
"The people at immigration who were willing to accept small bribes," he said bluntly. "I didn't come to this country because I liked the view; I came here because it's out of my enemies' reach."
"Whatever," Junko said, writing down some notes. "You speak the language very well, by the way."
Yamma couldn't help but smirk. "Yes. Although I can't read Japanese kanji at all. You people have the most senseless system of writing imaginable."
"I blame the Chinese, myself." Junko made some more marks in her notepad. "Okay, we're done here. You can leave."
"What? That's it?" Yamma looked surprised, and a little disappointed. "Aren't you going to ask me questions about my past and my family and eke out a long, overdramatic backstory?"
"Ordinarily, yes," the redhead admitted. "Now get out."
As the former undertaker sulked out of the room, Sakura entered to take his place, laying down on the lounge chair just as all the patients before her had done.
"Who was that guy?" The blonde woman asked, convinced now that he was out of earshot.
"His name was Yam-something. I dunno. Nobody important. Anyway, let's start by talking about your childhood..."
__________________________________________________________________________________

"What do you mean you don't want to talk about your family?" Junko asked irritably. "I'm trying to do my job, here!"
Asuka blushed, a little ashamed that SHE, of all people, appeared to be hung up during the evaluation. "Look, it's... it's just not easy for me to talk about."
"Then try harder," Junko suggested unhelpfully.
The bluette groaned. "Isn't there ANY way you could just skip this? I thought in therapy you're supposed to avoid topics that make patients uncomfortable."
"This is a psychiatric evaluation, which, for all you know, is very different from normal therapy," Junko insisted. "Besides, when someone doesn't want to talk about it, it just means that they really want to talk about it, but it's hard for them."
Asuka frowned. "Is that true?"
"No. But most people assume it is when I say it."
Rolling her eyes, Asuka sighed. "Well, me and my family... don't get along. I've made a lot of choices they don't approve of."
Junko raised an eyebrow. It was hard to imagine the straight-laced, in-charge police captain as a wildcat teenager. "Choices? Like what?"
"Like doing well in school, staying away from substance abuse and gangs, becoming a police officer, reading books, that sort of thing."
"........." Junko stared at her superior officer strangely. "And they DIDN'T approve of these things?"
"No," Asuka replied bitterly, "they were really upset when they found out I was in training to become a cop. I had to evade hired thugs who tried to take me back home."
"WHY?" Junko asked eagerly, leaning forward.
"See, THIS is why I hate talking about my family." The blue-haired woman sighed and turned her head so that she was facing away from Junko. "I can't tell you that. Me and my family don't get along. At all. Now let's drop it."
Junko frowned, then shrugged and wrote down some notes on her pad. "Okay, fair enough. So, you hot for Saotome?"
*Whump!* Asuka immediately fell off the edge of the lounge chair and onto the floor.
"Take your time," the redhead advised her, "no rush."
"Wh-Wh-What?!" Asuka stood up in a huff, flushing badly. "Am I 'hot for Saotome'? What kind of a question is that?!"
Junko raised an eyebrow. "Well, it WASN'T rhetorical. And I don't hear an answer."
Gritting her teeth, Asuka fell back onto her chair, arms crossed over her chest. "Ranma Saotome is my subordinate, and I do NOT fraternize!"
"Still not hearing an answer," Junko teased, smirking. "But that's okay. Let's forget about it." She wrote down some more notes as Asuka fumed silently. "When was the last time you had sex?"
The captain's eye twitched. "And I suppose you HAVE to have an answer to this, too, huh?"
"Hmmm," Junko twirled her pen in her hand. "Haven't had any in a while, huh?"
"Well, I... uh..." The bluette frowned. "How long is a while? Like, not for you, but for a normal woman."
Junko smirked. "A month."
Asuka kept frowning. "Okay... how long is a LONG while?"
"Maybe it's best we not go there," Junko murmured, writing down some more notes. "Why do you have a hard time with men?"
"Well, I'd LIKE to think that they're intimidated by my intelligence and independence," the police captain said seriously. "But as I've become more and more cynical, it's starting to seem like they can just sense that I'm not easy."
"Easy to get in the sack, or easy to approach?" Junko asked seriously.
"Little of column A, little of column B." Asuka sighed. "I'm not TRYING to push guys away, and I'm not into that femi-Nazi 'men are scum, let's burn our bras' bull, but this is how I am, and I'm not going to change just to get a man!"
A sniffle was heard from the velvet armchair next to her, and Asuka turned to see Junko, surprisingly enough, wiping a tear from her eye.
"Captain... that was... beautiful..."
Asuka blinked in surprise, and then blushed a little bit, embarrassed. "Well, it's... it's not all THAT impressive..."
"No, I mean it!" Junko insisted, grasping her superior's shoulder. "You do what you have to do and don't take any nonsense from anyone! You're an inspiration to women everywhere!"
Asuka's blush deepened. "Oh, come on! You're embarrassing me!"
"And women everywhere will look on in silent admiration, alongside their loving husbands, as you grow old and die as one of those lonely hermit ladies who fills the void in her life by keeping several dozen cats!"
The police captain's blush died, and she turned to look at Junko with half-lidded eyes. "Say what?"
The redhead snorted and fell back into her chair, writing some more in her notebook. "Well, come on! 'This is how I am'? Get a grip, girl! I mean, haven't you ever wondered why Tiro's the only guy who's tried to nail you over the last... I dunno, how long? Six months? Eight? Help me out here."
Wordlessly, the blue-haired woman got up off of the lounge chair and cracked her neck to either side.
Junko blinked. "No, wait, we're not done yet. I still have to do the ink blot tests."
Instead of sitting back down, or giving a verbal answer at all, Asuka instead grabbed Junko by the front of her shirt and lifted her, with one arm, out of her chair and into the air.
"Hey! W-Wait! What are you doing?! ACK!! OW!! OW!! OW!!"
__________________________________________________________________________________

"So, I assume that the bandages on your arm are from that little claymore incident the other day?" Junko asked, writing furiously in her notepad.
Ranma sighed and fingered the bandages wrapped liberally around his right bicep and forearm. "Nah, those are all under my shirt. This is from getting Hunter out of the holes he keeps digging around the house."
Junko blinked. "All things considered, I think that digging holes in your yard is a fairly minor problem."
Ranma frowned. "But he's not digging holes in my yard, he's digging them in the HOUSE."
"...... Like, through carpet?" The redhead asked, mystified.
"No, through concrete," Ranma muttered. "He likes to break into the basement and burrow into the foundation to sleep and regenerate his wounds. It's totally screwed up the plumbing and the wiring, and he tried to eat the last electrician that came in to try and fix it." He sighed, and then turned toward Junko. "So, as long as we're on the topic, what happened to your eye?"
"Uhm... nothing that can top that," the redhead mumbled. She went back to writing. "So, tell me a little bit about your family background."
Ranma sighed and bit his lip in thought, noticing that Junko hadn't stopped writing so that she listen fully to his answer. "Well... my relationship with my mom... er, essentially I don't HAVE a relationship with my mom. All I really know about her is that she's really into traditional values and her ideas on manliness are kind of screwy."
"Fair enough," Junko mumbled, not having even slowed down in her writing, "what about your father?"
"Ah, yes. Pop really knew how to wing it on the whole 'parenting' scene," Ranma mumbled bitterly, "took me out away from my mom when I was a baby and dragged me along through the wilderness. When I was seven he taught me to dirty myself up and beg for money and food in town so that he wouldn't have to hunt or forage every night."
Junko stopped writing and turned her full attention to her patient. "So do you just not get along with your father, or are there deeper issues here?"
"The second one," Ranma said, "especially over the last few years. After keeping such a tight leash on me until I was a teenager, I found out that he had already planned out the rest of my life, too. Not planned well, mind you, but he had certain expectations of me which I wasn't told about, and didn't really want to deal with." Then he snorted. "And that's all beside the cat thing."
"Hmm. Cat thing." Junko went back to her writing. "So your father was controlling?"
"Tried to be. He wasn't very good at it," Ranma said irritably. "I mean, when I was just a kid, I did what he said 'cause I didn't know any better. Pops never realized that would change when I got older, so a lot of the time he'd just yell at me and get angry when I didn't do what he wanted."
"Hm. He ever hit you?" The redhead asked, her attention on her notepad.
Ranma blinked. "Sure. All the time."
Junko's pen slipped, and she ended up with a long, black slash across the page of her notebook. "What?! He beat you on a regular basis?!" The redhead shouted incredulously. The idea of any father doing that angered her, but the idea of Ranma, of all people, being subjected to such abuse seemed impossible to her.
In all fairness, she had no way of knowing that a mere fraction of Ranma's life story easily transcended everything that the science of modern psychology was capable of dealing with. She really had no idea what she had gotten herself into.
Ranma, for his part, crossed his arms over his chest in a huff. "He didn't beat me THAT often," he said indignantly, confusing the context in which Junko was using the word "beat".
"Did your father drink a lot?"
"Whenever he could spare the cash. Plus whenever he forgot he couldn't," the pigtailed man explained ruefully.
"Did he beat you only when he was drinking, or all the time?" The redhead asked with sincere concern.
Ranma just blinked. "Pops never beat me when he was drunk. Only when he was sober. It was actually kind of funny; he liked to go out drinking, but he'd get mad sometimes because he knew he couldn't beat me if he did." He chuckled at some of the fonder memories he had of his father.
"You poor, poor man," Junko said softly, placing her hand on him. "It's all right, let it all out."
Ranma's chuckling trailed off with a nervous squeak. "Uhm... J-Junko? Could you, you know... not touch me? Please?"
The redhead shook her head. "Now Ranma, I want there to be a bond of trust between us. A serious, strong friendship in which you feel that you can tell me anything. We can't have that trust if a little physical contact is going to freak you out."
"Okay, I guess that makes sense..." Ranma blushed as he rubbed the back of his head. "But can you at least touch me somewhere else?"
"Spoilsport," Junko muttered, taking her hand off of Ranma's groin.
"Right... so, anyway, my pop was a real jerk. He engaged me to TWO different women! Without even telling me!"
Junko blinked. "Really, now?"
"Yeah. And then he drags me off on some stupid trip to make me into the world's best martial artist." Ranma grimaced with frustration. "And THEN he takes me to China-"
"Where you contract some kind of ancient curse before meeting your fiancee, who happens to be evil incarnate," Junko rattled off, going back to her writing.
"What? How did you know?" Ranma asked, surprised and confused.
The redhead rolled her eyes. "Next time check your story with Tiro first, okay?"
The pigtailed cop frowned. "What does Tiro have to do with this?"
"Nothing. Forget I said anything," Junko mumbled, paying even more attention to her notes.
Ranma's curiosity finally peaked, and he tried to crane his neck to see Junko's notes. "What ARE you writing, anyway? That's a lot of stuff..."
Junko blinked, then flushed slightly. "Oh, nothing! Just normal psychiatric notes! Boring personality differentiations, that sort of thing." Smiling, she returned to her writing.
[Sobbing in earnest, the hapless patient's floodgate of emotions proved too much for him, and the lonely man threw himself into the therapist's arms, his sorrow drowning in lust, and the chiseled features of his perfect face disappearing against her soft, swollen bosom. "Please! Oh please!" He cried, "Take me here! Show me what love is! I must know it! Show me what that cruel, controlling wench refuses me!" The therapist's painted red lips curled into a knowing smile, and she took the fallen martial artist by the back of his head, gently pulling him further into her inviting cleavage. "It's all right," she said, her husky voice dripping with barely contained lust, begging for his touch! "Allow me to teach you EVERYTHING you need to know..."]
Ranma watched in confusion as Junko became more and more absorbed in her notes, to the point that a little bit of drool leaked out of the corner of her mouth. "Hey, Junko? Junko!"
The redhead blinked, apparently snapping out of some sort of reverie. "Uh? Oh! Sorry. Where were we?"
"That's pretty much up to you..." Ranma began uncertainly.
"Hmmm..." Junko tapped her pen against her notepad as she tried to think of a new topic to breach. "What are you looking for in a love life?"
Ranma blinked. "A... love life?" He frowned and looked up at the ceiling as he thought about it. "I... I don't really know. In my experience, a love life is the sort of thing that kind of sneaks up and attaches itself to you, and you have to try and get it off before it kills you."
Junko blinked. Twice. "So... you associate romantic relationships with... parasitism? That's not a very healthy outlook to have."
The pigtailed man sighed. "I guess that sort of thing can be nice, if you're with the right person. But personally, I'd rather not take the chance. I barely survived my teenage love life."
"I see..." the redhead murmured, writing furiously once more.
Then she stopped, and frowned. "Hey, what's a good word for, uh... firm? Or strong, maybe?"
"Firm and strong?" Ranma raised an eyebrow. "Uh... sturdy, I guess?"
"Ah! Perfect! Thank you!" Junko quickly went back to writing.
Ranma twitched. "Are you... doing a crossword puzzle?"
"Crossword puzzle?" Junko asked, confused. Then she looked down at her writing, and her eyes narrowed. "Uhm... crossword puzzle. Yes. Yes I am."
"Okay, I'm gonna leave now," Ranma muttered, getting up off the lounge chair.
"Wait!" Junko shouted, "First, give me a synonym for 'thrust'!"
__________________________________________________________________________________

Junko turned off the tape. "As you can see, Saotome clearly has issues with his family that's caused him to assert his independence before he was ready, and without any sort of preparation from his parents. This emotional abandonment, combined with his first sexual/romantic experiences being quite negative and frustrating in nature, have left him emotionally crippled and nearly incapable of maintaining a normal, healthy relationship as we know it." Then she gestured to a gigantic book on the floor next to her conspicuously labeled [Saotome Ranma's Marital Status]. "And I don't know WHAT the hell to do with this thing!"
Sakura, Snake, Tycho, and Asuka all looked at each other.
"Okay, well... what should we do?" Sakura asked uncertainly.
"Nothing, obviously," Junko snapped, her hands on her hips. "Because-and let's face facts-with the exception of Miss Tekai, Saotome's the most stable one of you whackjobs!"
Kyle chuckled. "Yeah. I liked the part where the Captain was strangling you!"
Junko twitched in irritation.
"I liked the part where the mutant worm thing with all the teeth came out from under the couch," Snake began excitedly, "and then Sakura stepped on it's head by accident and killed it! That was awesome!"
Asuka slammed her hands down on her desk, halting the jovial conversation. "I'm VERY glad you're all enjoying yourself, but we have a problem here!" She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. "Junko, are we going to pass this thing or what?"
The redhead sighed and sat down on the massive tome behind her. "Well, not honestly, at least. But I'll see what I can do." Then she smirked slightly. "You know Captain, I'm surprised. If we fail this thing and the whackos get kicked out, then you might have a chance of getting some respectable officers around here."
"Hmph." The blue-haired woman turned away, looking miffed. "Yeah, so what? 'Respectable officers' probably wouldn't last an hour on one of our jobs."
Snake grinned. "Lose your sanity, save your skin!"
Kyle blinked, then chuckled. "Hey, that's neat! Core should use that as a motto!"
"No, they already have one," Snake said, waving him off. "It's 'shoot first, ask questions later.'"
Sakura looked thoughtful. "What's our motto?"
"'Shoot first, then break for lunch.'"
"Be that as it may," Asuka interrupted, "Chikiko has some work to do. I want this thing over with, win or lose, by the time Ranma and Tiro finish walking Hunter."
"Hey, I've got a question first..." Tycho began somewhat nervously, capturing everyone's attention. "Do you... uh... show all of the videos of your sessions to people?"
"Yes," Junko answered immediately.
"You mean, even-"
"Yes," Junko answered again, cutting him off.
"Don't worry, we all know about your 'little problem'," Kyle said none-too-reassuringly, patting the driver on the back.
"I'm sure it happens to lots of guys," Snake said, also patting Tycho's back, and obviously trying not to laugh.
"Hey, speaking of freakish mutations," Junko said idly, not noticing as Tycho winced miserably, "what's keeping Ranma and Tiro, anyway? Did Hunter get loose?"
"Nah. They just said they were going to bring him somewhere else. Just for a change of pace."
__________________________________________________________________________________

"Oh, dear mother of God... how did this happen?" Alexandra muttered miserably, her head hanging as she trudged through the hallways of Wraith Labs HQ. "We've seen the peak of our power, with vast steel behemoths that completely dwarf modern war machines, all reduced to rusted scrap! Everything we planned for! Everything we built! Shattered! Crushed! Annihilated!"
Ignoring the people that stopped to stare and listen to her personal monologue, Wraith Labs' president pushed leadenly into the meeting room where her assistant was waiting.

"Ah! Alex! So, how'd it go?" Yoshi Konta asked pleasantly, cup of coffee in hand.
Standing next to him, Bei gave a much more timid greeting, bowing deeply. "Miss Tokima... what are your orders?"
Giving Yoshi a disgusted look, Alex sighed and slumped down into a chair. "The council is MOST displeased. With everyone. But especially Yuchtzky. Some of them don't feel that he's worth keeping around any more, and the others are indifferent at best."
She massaged her head. "I was barely able to deflect blame from myself. As it is, my superiors feel that the irreplaceable loss of resources from the Vortex battle submarine, combined with the recent string of severe losses to our installations and Wraith's own facilities was a sure sign to lay low and began building our power again, primarily by funneling resources to our operations in other countries which have been more successful."
"Most unfortunate. I assume the research and development budget with be the first to get cut?" Yoshi asked, idly sipping his coffee.
"Naturally," Alexandra said, getting even more upset that the bio-geneticist was, as usual, completely calm in the face of complete disaster. "Your little pet projects will have to end, Konta. And you'd better stay on-task from now on if you want to keep your job; you haven't had nearly the success in creating weapons that Igov had."
"Or the failure in utilizing those weapons," Yoshi said smugly, attention focused primarily on his coffee.
Alexandra fumed, but held her temper in check. "Speaking of our resident Communist General, how is he doing with his new limbs?"
Yoshi shrugged. "We won't know until I finish installing them."
Alex blinked. "Wait... you started that yesterday. You're still not done? How long is the operation supposed to take?"
Yoshi frowned and put down his coffee. "Well... somewhere around... an hour and a half, actually."
Alex's eyes bulged. "Then why aren't you done yet?!"
Yoshi chuckled and took another sip of coffee. "Funny story, actually. You see, I was about half-way done yesterday, and cutting into his armor-segment spinal column with a low-intensity laser. Just then I had to go to the bathroom, and I knew that the laser would take a few minutes to make any progress, so I left to relieve myself. THEN, when I was in the bathroom, I remembered that I had forgotten to visit the bank this morning like I had promised my niece, and immediately left to make a deposit for her. And then-"
"Wait," Bei interrupted, "you mean you left while the laser was still boring into Yuchtzky's spine?"
"Well, sure, in HINDSIGHT it's obvious that I should have turned it off first," the diminutive scientist said in annoyance. "Now will you let me finish? Traffic was pretty bad, and there was a line, so it took me two or three hours to get my banking done. And then, right as I was leaving, I remember that I'd forgotten to clock in this morning! I mean, really, all this panic and mayhem that's been occurring recently has been quite stressful; I suppose it's no wonder I've been so absent-minded."
Alexndra twitched, and a vein popped up on her head.
"Anyway, so there I was at the bank, realizing that, as far as my time card is concerned, I never showed up today. So I just decided to go home early."
Then he took another sip of coffee, unaware or apathetic of the incredulous stares he was getting from the two women. "Who is the cretin who replaces the normal blend with decaf, anyway? I swear, this is like the sixth time!"
"KONTA!!" Alex screamed, her teeth grinding. "What is WRONG with you?! Is Yuchtzky even still alive?!"
Yoshi blinked, apparently surprised at being yelled at. "Beats me. This is my day off. I just stopped by to drop off some of my notes to Yamada, and I ended up catching you on your way out."
"GET YOUR SORRY ASS BACK IN YOUR LAB AND FINISH THE &!$%!&# OPERATION, YOU SLIMY LITTLE TOAD!!!" Alexandra screamed, looming over the little man with a red aura blazing around her.
Yoshi blinked, then frowned. "Can I finish my coffee first, at least?"
"!#$%&*$#%)*!!*$#!*!!&$*(!&^#&!!"
Bei winced and shied away toward the corner as Alex's demands degenerated into a string of obscenities.
Yoshi sighed. "All right, fine. But you have to say 'please'."
"I'M THE PRESIDENT OF THIS COMPANY!!" Alex shouted, holding her hands in the air around Yoshi's head, as if she was moments from strangling him. "YOU DO WHAT I SAY!!"
"Hmph." The diminutive genius turned away, his nose in the air. "If I'm going to work on my day off, the LEAST you could do is say 'please'. Or let me have my coffee."
"BUT... YOU... NO... I... LATE... STUPID... CAN'T... STILL... LEFT..." Alex began to get dizzy as she tried to restore rational thought while still riding on all her adrenaline.
Finally, she slumped back down into her chair, utterly defeated.
"You can finish your coffee first."
Yoshi grinned. "Thank you!" *Slurp!*
Then he turned toward Bei. "So! Seen any good movies lately?"
"AAAARGH!!" Grabbing her assistant by the arm, Wraith Lab's president stalked out of the meeting room and down toward the main parking garage.

"M-Miss To-Tokima! My arm!" Bei yelped like a wounded puppy as she was tugged along helplessly down the hall.
"Oh... sorry," Alexandra mumbled an apology as she released her subordinate, and continued stalking down the hall. The recent event had already worn her patience thin, and the very LAST thing she needed today was to have to deal with her least favorite top scientist.
Of course, finding a large group of armed guards standing in front of the entrance to the parking garage didn't make her day much better.
"What the hell is going on here?" Alex asked, not in the frame of mind to drop into her usual "super-sexy-woman-in-control" mannerisms.
The unofficial commander looked relieved as he saw the shapely brunette stomping up the corridor. "Ma'am! It's an emergency! Some kind of alien monster thing is in the parking garage tearing everything apart!"
"Well that's just perfect," she muttered dryly. "And have you taken the necessary measures?"
"Yes Ma'am!" The commander said eagerly. "We just moved a light gun squad in to deal with the threat, and we're waiting here to rush in should anything happen to them!"

*Rattattattattattattatta!!*
"Sweet mother of God! It's not even slowing down!!"
"Just keep shoo-GYAAUAUAglk!"
"It's no good! Run! RU-gyack!"
"AAAAAAH!!! AAAAAAH!!! SOMEBODY HELP!!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!! GYARGH!! GWAAAAH!!"

Alex and Bei sweatdropped as the screams from the other side of the corridor wall were silenced.
"Ma'am?" The commander asked uncertainly. "Should I continue to send small squads of lightly-armed men in to secure the area one at a time?"
"What the hell. Knock yourself out." Alexandra turned away. "Come on Bei, we'll go out the back way."

After watching her leave, one of the guards turned toward the commander. "Geez, what's HER problem?"
"Not a clue."

"OH GOD!! IT'S CLAWS CAN CUT STEEL!! ARGH!!"

"Okay then! Squad six, you're up!"
__________________________________________________________________________________

"WELL?!" Asuka asked impatiently, tapping her foot on the floor. "How did it go?"
Junko blinked, and turned away from the mirror where she was applying makeup. "Oh! It went fine! It's all taken care of!"
"What do you mean it's taken care of?" The police captain said, frowning. "Did we pass or didn't we?"
"I told you, it's all taken care of!" Junko said irritably. "PROVIDED you get off my case so I can get to my date with that guy at the Records Admissions and Approvals office!"
The blue-haired woman twitched, and held her face in her hands as Junko rushed out of the women's locker room. "Jesus... what the HELL did she do?!"
__________________________________________________________________________________

(The next day...)
General Remerick shook his head ruefully, his hands steepled under his chin. "They actually passed. Completely."
Mia nodded, sweatdropping slightly. "Yes, they did. Granted, one of their own officers did the evaluation, so the whole thing has a huge 'conflict of interest' flag, but the bottom line is that there are now several pieces of paper that say that the officers of the Department of Abnormal Phenomenae Containment are completely sane and mentally capable of continuing active duty."
Remerick sighed. "Well, I'm not really surprised. And, in some small way, it's probably a good thing we still have those idiots around."
Colonel Tokima smirked. "Agreed, Sir. Though interestingly enough, one of the SWAT teams that recently underwent a psyche evaluation after killing one of the carrier mutants in a residential area failed miserably."
The American raised an eyebrow. "You don't say?"
"Oh, yeah. It was just supposed to determine if combat with the mutants had any substantial psychological effects we need to compensate for, but as it turns out, they all suffer from severe emotional disorders, psychotic urges, and alcoholism."
"..............." Remerick was silent for a long moment, and then he fell back into his chair. "Now, we KNOW the DAPC cheated, right?"
"Technically, we're just pretty sure," Mia corrected. "It could have been a mistake. Technically."
Remerick let out a heavy sigh, and then glanced to a photo that lied on his desk from when it was delivered a week earlier. It was a photo of an office building, a civilian structure with civilians inside, being shelled and blasted apart on the day of the Vortex attack.
The American picked the picture up, and then shoved it and the entire pile of papers it was on into the trash. "Well, then clear them all for duty and warn our squads to stay away," the general said. "We all owe them that much, at least."
The Colonel smiled. "Yes, sir."

**********************************************************************************

Terrorists slaughtered: 87
Bots scrapped: 29
Perfectly able officers unjustly committed to an institution: 8

End Chapter 17