Guardian: delivering pointless carnage and unstable personalities since year 2000! Oh, also, some stuff from All-Purpose Cultural Cat Girl Nuku Nuku is in this chapter, and I totally don't own that.

Guardian
Chapter 28
Getting Down to Business

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"Gentlemen, if I may have your UNDIVIDED attention, please!" Snake said, raising his arms dramatically as he shouted throughout the room.

"Mankind has come far in the past century. Plastic explosives. Sabot rounds. The Internet. Nuclear bombs. Nintendo. All of these, of course, are among the greatest achievements of humanity. We continue to advance, however, proving that we are, in fact, God's chosen, the inheritors of Earth."

Snake raised one arm even higher, beckoning to the ceiling. "But today, my friends, humanity takes its NEXT step toward its ultimate destiny. Its fate: the eventual conquest of the great beyond."

Wham! Snake suddenly brought his fists down onto the desk in front of him.

"GENTLEMEN! Rejoice! For yet another great milestone has been crossed in the history of the human race!"

With that, he tore the cover page off of a presentation stand, revealing several sketches and diagrams of what seemed to be some sort of large satellite.

"Behold! The ion cannon satellite! AT LAST, we can blow shit up from space!" The American lauded, looking supremely proud.

"That's right! After years of development and EXHAUSTIVE spending, America has once again pulled ahead in the field of destroying enormous tracts of land with complete impunity! The ion cannon uses a refraction field to stream-"

"Would you SHUT UP?!" Tycho finally shouted, glaring at the weapons expert before turning back to Ranma.


"Seriously Saotome, give it me straight," Tycho begged, grinning madly. "I saw that car. There's no WAY that all that damage was caused JUST by some 'psychokinetic burst'. The windows, MAYBE. But those dents and tears in the seats were way too irregular for that."

"Come on man, just a few details! We've all got stories, you know?" Kyle said cheerfully, standing behind the pigtailed man who was seated at the table and trying to hide under his arms. "Hey, did I ever tell you about the time that me and Akina were interrupted by some mutant roaches and had to-"

"Commander, you didn't tell us about that, we were THERE," Tiro deadpanned before turning back toward Ranma and squeezing the man's shoulder. "What're you so embarrassed about? It's okay if you screwed up; it was your first time, right?"

Ranma simply groaned, trying to block the voices of the other officers from his mind.

Snake's expression darkened as his eyebrow twitched. "Are you idiots serious? Saotome's sex life is more important to you than a new weapon that can devastate millions?"

"YES. Now stop yapping about cannons and help us make Ranma spill," Tiro demanded.

"If it makes a difference, I think it's neat we can shoot stuff from space," Ranma mumbled.

"It doesn't," Tycho said immediately. "So, did you go raw, or did Chikiko remember to bring rubbers?"


This doubtless would have continued for much longer, except that at that moment the door to the briefing room burst open, heralding the entrance of a normally cheerful, airheaded blonde.

Sakura was not so cheerful at the moment, however, and was easily as close to furious as any, even Kyle, had ever seen her before.

"I can't believe you would do that! Didn't you tell us you had morals when in that form?" the blonde asked, clearly not talking to anyone already in the room.

"Sakura, please, I told you, it WASN'T me!" Junko pleaded as she followed the younger woman into the room, looking distraught. "You can't hold me responsible for what Akina does! She's a psychotic maniac!"

Sakura was about to shoot back a scathing reply when she noticed that three of the five men in the room were staring at her balefully. "What?"

"Do you mind? We were kind of having guy talk, here," Tiro said, gesturing to Ranma's partially concealed head. "Unless Junko wants to fill us in on the details that Ranma won't, we're going to have to ask you to wait outside."

Sakura's expression was incredulous. "Why are you all so casual about this? Don't you CARE?"

"Not really," Tycho admitted.

"Do you mean about the sex, or the consequences? I only care about the sex," Tiro said unabashedly.

"I care," Kyle said, looking concerned... for all of two seconds. "Sorry. I lied. I don't care."

Snake rolled his eyes. "Tekai, are you telling me that you want to punish fraternization between officers?" He deadpanned.

Sakura flushed, but didn't back down. "This isn't about fraternization! This is about RAPE! She took him by force! MULTIPLE TIMES!"

"Multiple times?" Tiro repeated, his eyes widening. "How multiple are we talking?"

Tycho snorted. "Sakura, please. Ranma could have beaten off even Akina if he really wanted to."

"That's not the point!" the blonde seethed. "It's still rape! Why doesn't that matter to any of you?"

By this time, Junko's face was almost as red as her hair as she leaned up against the wall, rubbing her forehead. Ranma was grinding his teeth as he kept his face planted firmly on the table, arms still covering his head.

Snake sighed and clapped a hand on Sakura's shoulder. "Tekai, you need to understand. This isn't a normal case."

"I do understand!" Sakura insisted hotly, her hands balling into fists. "But just because Akina is-"

"No, you don't understand," Snake interrupted, his voice gentle but firm, like an elder instructing a petulant child. "Sakura, when a man rapes someone, it's disgusting and tragic."

Sakura blinked as the American then gestured to Junko.

"When a woman rapes someone, it's hilarious."

Tiro, Tycho, and Kyle promptly nodded their heads repeatedly.

Sakura gaped. "That's blatantly sexist!"

"But it's sexist in women's favor, so nobody cares," Snake explained. "Really, you should know this stuff."

"Gaah!" The blonde yelled in frustration as she turned on her heel, stalking out of the room angrily. "You're all unbelievable! I can't take this anymore!"

Junko winced as the door slammed behind the other woman, and then sighed wearily. "Ugh. This is going to be a problem, isn't it?"

Snake blinked. "Is it? I can't imagine too many complications as a result of Sakura getting frustrated."

"Eh, she'll get over it. It's not like it's really your fault, right?" Kyle asked, shrugging.

"I guess. But it's still really awkward, you know?" Junko mumbled uncomfortably. She didn't have many female friends, and out of the only other women in her place of work, she definitely connected more easily with Sakura than Asuka. Naturally, Akina didn't care about any of that, and the relatively sane redhead was always frustrated whenever she had to bear responsibility for her alter ego's actions.

"Speaking of awkward," Tiro said brightly as he squeezed Ranma's shoulder. "Wanna give us a play-by-play on the big event, or do you not remember it that well?"

Junko sweatdropped. "Usually I wouldn't mind, but I think in this case I shouldn't kiss and tell."

Tycho looked crushed by the decision. "What? Why not?"

"Yowch!" Tiro shouted, suddenly jerking his hand away from Ranma's body.

The other men in the room gulped as a thin red haze engulfed the martial artist, who still hadn't physically moved from where he was collapsed on the table.

Junko smiled helplessly as she shrugged. "Ranma can be pretty timid when it comes to this sort of thing, but I don't think it's a good idea to embarrass him too much, don't you think?"

"All right, geez!" Tiro said, nursing his hand as the other men started sulking. "If it bothers you that much, we'll just go tell hooker jokes and talk about boobs in the locker room like usual."

"Damn prudish brat," Tycho mumbled as he stepped out of the room, immediately followed by Tiro and Kyle - who incidentally looked quite pleased that the subject of general conversation was going to soon shift to less complex topics.


Junko waited several seconds after the others were gone before she finally allowed herself to address Ranma directly. "Soooo... I know we haven't really talked much... but... uh..." she sighed. "Look, it feels really weird to say this, but I'm sorry Akina... aw hell, whatever. I'm sorry I forced myself on you," she finally spat out.

Ranma blinked in surprise and slowly lifted his head off the table as the redhead continued.

"I mean, I don't know WHY it's such a big deal that we had sex, but that doesn't matter. You don't sleep around and I have to respect that like all the other girls that want a piece of that steely ass of yours. You know, the ones that constantly parade around like idiots to get your attention, but don't seem to warrant a second glance unless they're in danger of being devoured or something. As fetishes go a hero complex is a pretty neat one, actually, but there's something to be said for-"

"Chikiko, stop talking," Snake deadpanned.

She promptly did so with a slight wince, and waited nervously for Ranma's response.

For his part though, the pigtailed man just looked confused. "What are you doing?"

Junko raised an eyebrow. "Uh... I'm apologizing."

"But... you're a girl," Ranma said in bewilderment.

Junko started to look a little annoyed at this point. "As you're thoroughly and INTIMATELY aware of, yes, I am."

"Since when do girls apologize to guys?" Ranma asked, turning toward Snake in askance.

The weapons expert shrugged. "Well, remember that she IS crazy. This could be some desperate psychosis emerging from her submerged super-mind, trying to soften your guard for the next time she jumps you."

Junko clenched her teeth tightly as she massaged her forehead to try and suppress an uncharacteristic urge to bludgeon the men in front of her. "Look, just shut up and forgive me, all right? I know that Sakura will never get over it if we're perpetually walking on eggshells or treating the whole incident as some sort of spectacle, and I hate all this awkward tension! Stuff happened, mistakes were made, and now I want everyone to be adults about it and just move on!"

Ranma straightened in his chair even as Snake rolled his eyes, feeling rather impressed by the redhead's admission. "Okay, you're right. I forgive you. It's not like anyone was killed or anything."

"Other than, you know, your innocence and chances at having a meaningful first encounter with someone you really care about," Snake interjected.

Ranma expected Junko to be upset about the reminder, but instead the redhead frowned at him. "Speaking of which, were you seriously a virgin? 'Cause lemme tell you, you're REALLY GOOD for someone with no experience, never mind someone with no experience being taken against his will. It's amazing how well you know the female body... almost suspicious, really."

Several beads of sweat started to crawl down Ranma's brow as he tried to find a way to deflect the question.

"Maybe he has a sister?" Snake guessed, seeing that the pigtailed man wasn't likely to divulge anything right away.

"A sister that lets him feel her up?" Junko asked, raising an eyebrow as she turned to the American.

"If the manga I've seen is any indication at all of common Japanese familial relations, then yes, that's a fair assumption," Snake retorted. "However, we'll probably never know because Saotome just went invisible and escaped."

Junko snapped her head around to where Ranma had been sitting, and was quite disappointed to see the chair empty. "Well, that's just great."

"You said it. He was the only one actually interested in the ion cannon," Snake mumbled.

"The what now?"

Snake brightened immediately, latching onto Junko's casual inquiry. "The ion cannon is a new weapon developed by the-"

"Oh, it's just some new gun. Just don't use it inside, okay?" the redhead requested, turning away and heading out of the room. "The construction guys are having a hard time as it is putting this place back together in such a short amount of time, and we don't need any holes in the wall or whatever."

Snake's face darkened as the door closed behind Junko, leaving the American alone with all the materials he'd prepared and an increasingly pressing desire to share it with someone.

'Well, if I can't get my teammates to care about something as awesome as this, then I'll find someone who does!' the weapons expert decided. '...... Or I could find someone too badly injured to get away.'

Snake smiled.

"In addition to devastating an entire city block with impunity, the ion cannon leaves behind only mild amounts of electrostatic radiation, without all the fallout and long-term damage of nuclear weapons. With a recharge cycler of only three minutes or so, it's the first strategic superweapon with uniquely tactical applications, being able to strike anywhere in a hemisphere without warning and tearing through any and all defenses! Even subterranean facilities aren't safe as the core of the beam projects a bolt of intense electron streams down under the point of impact, utterly frying everything below it in temperatures comparable to some of the harshest conventional weapons currently in production! It's a technological marvel given deadly, efficient form, and the ultimate expression of American military superiority!"

Asuka sweatdropped as she sat up in her bed uncomfortably, using her pillow as a backrest. "That's... That's great, I guess. So... is Saotome okay? We never did a formal debriefing."

"Most people would say that he's better than okay," Snake said, shrugging negligently. "If you discount the fact that he got shot, anyway. And since his body apparently did, so will I."

"But what about the T-virus infection?" Asuka demanded.

Snake crossed his arms over his chest. "I feel like we're straying away from the important topic at hand, here. The ion cannon represents a complete strategic shift for our forces!"

"How?" Asuka deadpanned. "It's not like we can use it."

The smirk on Snake's face spoke volumes even in the silence that surrounded it.

"Please tell me we can't use it," Asuka begged, starting to grow distressed. "Who the hell would give YOU control of weapon of mass destruction?"

The American shrugged. "I know some people."

That very morning...

Brrring! Brrring!

Within a rather decadent-looking office, a balding man with large glasses and a scowl that seemed etched into his features glared at the phone on his desk before snatching it up.

"This is Cheney. What is it?" asked the Vice President of the United States.

Hey Dick! What's up, man?

Richard Cheney raised an eyebrow at the voice. "Snake? Is that you?" Such was his surprise that his scowl even lessened in intensity.

You know it! How's the gig going, Dick?

"Ah, it's a goddamn wreck," Richard growled. "The war's going south, the hippie bastards in Europe won't stop whining, and there's this whole 'thing' going on in Africa. Here I am trying to flatten a country and some twits in the U.N. suddenly start whining at me to help stop a genocide. Am I the only one that sees the irony in that?"

Yeah, probably, Snake answered honestly. But hey! I heard you just got a new satellite that can blow shit up from space!

Richard snickered. "Yeah, there is that. We mostly put it together to piss off the Russians and Chinese, but it's a nifty little gadget."

Any chance you could give me the activation codes and let me rain destruction upon my enemies without restraint?

"Okay, sure. You want the sat-map firing codex or the beacons?"

Better send both. The beacons are definitely more action-hero-esque, but my boss has this thing for strategy.

"I hear ya. I'll have it airdropped into your backyard by this afternoon," Cheney explained. "So, you coming back to the States anytime soon? We could go hunting!"

Screw you, Dick.

"Any people who would leave you in control of a weapon like that have to be off their rockers," Asuka grumbled, "or just plain evil, I guess."

"Yes," Snake said ambiguously. "Now, how could we best use this device to make the world safe for freedom, democracy, and Republicans?"

"I don't know, and at the moment I don't really care," Asuka said, shifting underneath the covers. "If Saotome's okay, then the only real emergency that happened while I was gone has been conveniently resolved without any problems."

"Yes... the ONLY emergency..." Snake said, a few beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. 'Stupid frigging roaches...'

"Well then, since you all apparently have lots of free time now, I actually have an assignment for you," Asuka said as she reached over to her nightstand and took a paper off her desk.

"Huh? You have an assignment? I thought you were off-duty."

"I am," Asuka grumbled. "And with me off-duty, the higher-ups have a choice to either try and force work onto a wounded and recovering officer, or give assignments to my second-in-command, Kyle."

Snake grimaced. "They made the right choice. So what is it? Hunting down a terrorist? Gunning down a murderer? Hunting and then gunning down a murderous terrorist?"

"No, actually, it's a mission request to Core that they didn't feel like sparing manpower for," Asuka explained. "Shiromir Incorporated has a trade show and banquet dinner this evening, and has requested additional protection in case of terrorist attack, since their new vice president will be making a press conference there and meeting with the head of Mishima Heavy Industries."

"That sounds like a one-man job to me," Snake said immediately. "Preferably one man that isn't me."

"Well, I don't care how it gets done, but since we don't have any pressing assignments I want us to take care of it. It wouldn't hurt to let people know that we can accomplish a simple bodyguard assignment without blowing anything up."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Snake added.

Whap! Asuka's alarm clock bounced painfully off of the American's forehead, and then she continued speaking. "I have all the details here, so make sure you take care of it. Other than that, you guys just need to stay on your patrol schedules and everything should be fine."

Such was the sequence of events that saw Snake wandering about headquarters with the assignment portfolio in his hand and a Band-aid on his forehead.

'Hmmm... this really is a worthless assignment. Still, it's work, and as a police lieutenant I have a sacred responsibility to take this seriously! Namely by foisting it off on a hapless underling.'

He glanced about as he entered the locker room where Kyle and Tiro were talking about something or other that didn't involve weapons or violence and thus didn't interest Snake. 'Of course, it would be ideal to give a worthless assignment to the most worthless officer, so as to not deplete our manpower in case it's needed for important things like combat or LAN parties. In that case...'

"Commander?"

Kyle turned toward the American. "What's up, Snake?"

"Where's your sister?"

"I think she went on patrol by herself. She's still sulking about the thing with Ranma, you know?"

Snake frowned and rubbed his chin. "Unfortunate. I'll have to enlist someone slightly more useful. Yamazaki, do you have time for a boring, stupid, thankless mission?"

The lecher frowned. "No, I have to go surf the Internet for naughty pictures. Sorry."

"Damn! We're fast running out of useless people," Snake groused. "Commander, how about you?"

"I was actually going to go to the garage and lift heavy things," the blond man explained.

"Why?"

"It helps reassure me that being smart isn't important as long as I can bench-press a car. It's sort of a self-esteem exercise."

Snake nodded reluctantly. "You have a point. Intelligence doesn't seem that great when you think of it like that. Where's Junko?"

"Off having a long bout of self-reflection where she examines her life's choices and how it affects the people around her. Immediately followed by a bout of frustration, which she'll probably relieve by going out and getting laid," Tiro said.

"Bugger. What's Tycho doing?"

Kyle decided to field this question. "He decided he didn't want to have to fix and clean the car that Ranma and Akina used, so he's taking it to the bay to drive it off of a dock and into the ocean. I think he said he was going to try and set it on fire first, too."

"A much better use of time than this assignment, to be certain," Snake admitted, looking disturbed. "Seras?"

"I'm pretty sure we can't actually assign him missions, Lieutenant," Tiro deadpanned. "But in case you want to try, I think he was in the labs trying to get as much blood out of Saotome as possible to make more of that R-virus stuff."

Snake clicked his tongue. "Well, shoot. Then that means I'm out of options, then. It's time to face the music."

"Here. Do it," Snake said sharply, slapping the mission portfolio down next to where Ranma was sitting on an examination bench.

"Huh? What's this?" The pigtailed man asked, picking up the folder. He already looked slightly pale, and had a few bandages wrapped around his left arm where he had already had some blood drawn.

"It's a mission. Especially for you. You're perfect for it!" Snake lied, trying to force false pride into his voice as he spoke.

"Because it involves stealth or incredible fighting abilities?" Ranma guessed, looking over the papers.

"Because you're not busy, and you're not me," Snake clarified, causing Ranma's expression to darken.

"Who says he's not busy?" Seras shouted, emerging from the sample chamber in the corner of the lab. "I'm running an extensive battery of tests, here! It'll be hours before I'm finished with him!"

"Tests for what?" Snake asked, looking annoyed.

"Tests for establishing the mutational and transferable parameters of the R-virus!" Seras fumed, holding up a vial of bright crimson liquid. "To say nothing of the medical examinations to ensure that Saotome is unharmed from the ordeal of having millions of lethal viruses undergoing rapid, unstable mutations and altering his body!"

"That sounds WAY less important than what everybody else is doing," Snake said negligently. "If you're going to come up with excuses, at least make it a good one, like having to lift heavy objects or something."

Ranma sighed as he finished skimming the profile. "Why can't YOU do it?"

"Well, besides the most important reason of it being stupid and me outranking you, I have to teach a self-defense class instructing women how to defend themselves from molesters and rapists this evening, and the convention could easily take too long," Snake explained, crossing his arms over his chest.

Seras and Ranma blink-blinked.

"Wait, what?" the latter asked. "You? Teaching self-defense? Seriously?"

"Of course!" the American said, looking affronted. "All the departments got the opportunity to volunteer for the effort, and I figured it was a simple and effective way to help the common good."

"I just can't imagine you'd be a good teacher for martial arts," Ranma mumbled, quite annoyed that no one had asked him to help with such a project.

"Martial arts? What does that have to do with anything?" Snake asked, perplexed.

Bang!

The women in the room flinched back fearfully as the pistol shot tore through the head of the dummy propped up on one side of the room, followed by a dread silence disturbed only by the sound of the bullet casing bouncing on the tile floor.

"And that's how to fend off an attacker. Any questions?" Snake asked, slipping his sidearm back in its holster.

"W-We have to sh-shoot them in the head?" One terrified housewife asked with a tremor in her voice.

"Only if you're merciful," Snake explained seriously. "Those of you who wish to be more vindictive in defending yourself against sick perverts may aim for the pelvic region. I have to warn that this isn't entirely safe, however; the resultant agonized screaming could potentially damage your hearing."

"But... we don't have guns," one woman said cautiously.

"I'm well aware that the Japanese take a rather dim view of people defending themselves properly as is your natural right as human beings in a free society," the American said grimly, gesturing to a large cardboard box next to him, "so I brought enough concealable handguns for everybody. Everybody, line up and take a weapon. That's right. Careful now, they're already loaded. Okay, now take a backup magazine and the maintenance and use pamphlet to my left. Very good. Take turns firing on the practice dummy until you feel comfortable with your weapon. Remember, security is a right for the people, not a privilege of the authorities!"

"It's very rewarding," Snake said as Seras and Ranma continued to look at him with bewildered expressions. "So, anyway, you have to do it. The Captain really wants us to complete a simple mission without any killing or explosions, and Moses knows I can't do something like that."

Ranma sighed as he slipped off of the bench and onto his feet. "Fine. I needed something to keep me busy anyway."

Seras smirked suddenly. "But don't you think you might need to attend Snake's rape defense instru-" the faux doctor was silenced as Ranma slammed the back of his fist into the man's nose. "Owth! Wha da hew! Mah node! Ith bweeding!"

"I'll leave right away," the pigtailed man grumbled as he and Snake headed out of the lab.

"Great. It should be a cakewalk, but in case you do need reinforcements, remember that we're all doing other things and can't be bothered," the American explained.

Ranma rolled his eyes. "Got it."

"Also, thanks again for recommending Nerima Quick-fix Constructors to get the HQ patched up," Snake added, far more gratitude in his tone. "I was skeptical at first, but they really do good work! Not to mention that they have different rates based on what destroyed the building!"

"I know. The deal for fixing Amazon wall breaches are the best, if I remember," Ranma explained. "Well, I'm taking off now. See ya later."

"God speed, Saotome!"

"My node! Can fubwum geh me a thowel or fumfing?"

Shiromir Incorporated was not the most lavish company in the Japanese industrial sector, and their trade show actually turned out to be relatively low-key and thrifty. The address that Ranma had sprinted to turned out to be a hotel with its ballroom rented out rather than a convention center or a park, and instead of being surrounded by armored vans and men with guns Ranma only noted that there was an unusual number of hotel security guards about.

To a businessman, it would have seemed shoddy, which was entirely the point if one was worried about attracting enough attention to warrant being firebombed by fanatics. The entire setting gave a sense of the inconsequential and routine, which also meant that security was necessarily light and unconcerned.

Well, mostly unconcerned. Having arrived carrying his weapons quite openly along with his body armor and the patch denoting his department association, all the security guards were eyeing him with expressions ranging from suspicion to honest fear.

He was the law though, and none of them moved to stop him as Ranma strolled past the front desk and down the hall, looking every bit like he belonged there.

Soon he had entered the main ballroom, and the pigtailed man looked mildly disappointed as he looked around the devices and machines scattered about the room. On the whole they were a lot less impressive than those that were on display the day of the Prometheus mecha attack, mostly being mundane pneumatic devices, pipes, or furnaces being set up on small display booths.

The only thing that really piqued his interest was a lower display stage at the end of the ballroom, and that was just because whatever was on display was currently covered by a silk curtain, ensuring maximum curiosity. Whatever it was, it was human-sized, and the stage was stamped with a logo declaring it the property of Mishima Heavy Industries.

As Ranma approached the display, however, several hotel guards quickly moved in from both sides to intercept him, their faces grim and their eyes on his pistol.

Deciding that he wasn't going to get a peek at whatever was underneath the sheets, Ranma decided that it was time to get to work.

"Hi there!" he said amicably as the men and women approached. "I'm part of the security detail today. Any idea where the Shiromir bigwig is?"

The guards stopped, and a few of them whispered to each other.

"I did hear that the VP called in some government muscle to help out," one of the men said reluctantly.

"So... what? One guy? From the municipal ghost-busting division?" another guard asked in disgust.

"Yep, that's me, Ghost Sweeper Saotome," the pigtailed man said sarcastically. "I also do robot busting, mutant roach extermination, and birthday parties. Now can I meet whoever's in charge? I'm not paid by the hour."

One of the guards gestured to him. "Sure, over here. Although you should really conceal that thing," the man advised, pointing to the massive handgun at Ranma's hip.

"Why? Making sure people know I have it helps make sure that I don't end up having to use it," Ranma reasoned. "Or at least, that's what Snake tells me."

"Is this person an American?"

"Yeah. Why?"

The security guard released a pained groan from the back of his throat as he led the DAPC officer toward the back of the hotel to one of the luxury suites located on the first floor. "Whatever. Just stay out of the way, keep your gun in its holster, and for the love of Christ, don't TOUCH anything."

He knocked on the door to the suite. "Mrs. Vice President? Your security detail is here."


There were many times since becoming a police officer where Ranma had almost regretted the decision.

Unlike some other people, these moments never came during times of great hardship or during incredibly dangerous combat encounters, but usually after having to put up with ridicule, disrespect, and syrup-thick bureaucracy without the surprisingly comforting option of simply punching someone to make it stop.

There were few other occasions that really made him look back on that momentous choice and wonder if it was all worth it.

Although now that he was staring at Nabiki Tendo in a business suit and processing the idea that he'd have to stick around and protect her, he was absolutely sure that it was right for him to become a police officer. After all, if even this didn't cause him to rip off his badge and crush it in his hands, nothing would.

"Well, well, well..." the brunette said, looking slightly surprised to see him. Of course Nabiki recognized him right away, and if for some reason she hadn't, his expression of shock and rapidly growing unease would have given her a big fat clue that she should have. "I wasn't expecting this. I guess those power-armored goons at Central couldn't spare any muscle for their poor, hard-working citizens, huh?"

Ranma's awkward surprise and dread quickly withered in the heat of irritation that her words stoked. "There's nothing poor or hard-working about you," he said venomously. "Public defenders of the peace have important things to take care of, you know. You're lucky you got anything at all. And you're REALLY lucky you scored a bodyguard as good as me."

"Yes, of course, what was I thinking?" Nabiki said in mock reflection as she took a seat on a velvet couch and crossed her legs, "Why settle for an actual trained and disciplined soldier when I have access to an unreliable barbarian who grew up in the wild being schooled in the world's most destructive fist-fighting techniques by an inept and immoral slimeball? I look forward to seeing my trade show ruined when a jealous boyfriend smashes through our centerpiece display trying to throttle you," she deadpanned.

"That's not going to happen!" Ranma insisted hotly, his hands clenching into fists.

"I'll admit, there's an equal chance of it being a jealous fiancee instead," the brunette said wryly. "But there's no sense in complaining about it. You're here already, and I'll admit you're a better choice of bodyguard than any of the hapless grunts with pepper spray they have scattered around this place already. You've got the job."

Ranma was about to shoot back with another barb when he stopped short. "Wait. What do you mean I've 'got the job'?"

Nabiki rolled her eyes condescendingly. "I mean I've looked over my options and accepting you as my bodyguard is the best choice available... unfortunately. Haven't you ever been to a job interview before?"

"No, I haven't be-" Ranma shook his head suddenly, his ire rising rapidly. "What is this about an 'interview'? You asked US for help!"

The businesswoman idly brushed back a lock of hair - noticeably longer than in her teenage years, Ranma idly noted - "Just because we asked for help doesn't mean we'll take whatever scraps are thrown to us like mangy dogs. So long as you're protecting me and my interests, you'll do so like any other employee, and that means being vetted first to make sure you're capable. Most people would be put through a background screening too, but I don't want to tempt a server crash by making my laptop try to upload all the carnage the government database must have on you."

Ranma gaped for several seconds. "But... employ... capable? I'm... vetted... scraps?"

Nabiki raised an eyebrow as the pigtailed man stuttered. "Eloquent as ever, I see. So did you spend any of the time that you've been fleeing from your family and responsibilities learning which end of that gun fires the hard pointy things, or is it just for show? It would be nice if you've learned to fight without knocking down the buildings around you."


At that point, something in Ranma's mind snapped, and the pigtailed man suddenly straightened as his face darkened. "The hell with this. I'm outta here."

That caused Nabiki to blink in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I'm leaving." Ranma rooted around in his pocket for a moment and then pulled out the mission portfolio, holding it up in front of her. "You see this? This says I'm supposed to follow your orders and protect you."

Shrrrrrrp! Ranma promptly tore the sheet of paper in half in front of the staring businesswoman.

"Now it's gone, so I don't have to do any of that. You can hold your little business thing and make a billion yen or die in a big explosion; I don't care." His eyes hardened further, and he thought he detected just a flicker of uncertainty in Nabiki's expression. "You're NOT my boss. You do NOT pay me, you do NOT give me orders, and I am NOT going to sit in front of you like a good little watchdog while you barrage me with insults. You don't like the free help you're getting? Then I'll leave. I don't have to put up with you."

"Are you serious?" Nabiki said, snorting humorlessly. "So this is the quality of our civil servants these days? Someone's a bit rude so you turn on your heel and go back to scarfing donuts?"

"We're the government. Go figure," Ranma deadpanned, finally turning around to leave the room.

"And what will you do if there IS an attack and innocent people die?" Nabiki said quickly, idly pouring herself a shot of scotch from the glass table next to the couch. "People you could have potentially saved?"

Ranma stopped short, and then seemed to think carefully about the question before he turned his head to reply. "I guess I'd mope around feeling guilty for a while until all the friends I have now cheer me up and I get over it." Nabiki seemed utterly shocked, or at least that's what Ranma interpreted from the brief widening of her eyes. "I've learned a lot since leaving Nerima, Tendo. And one of the things I've learned is that no matter how many people try to make it so, not everything bad that happens is my fault. Sometimes buildings get infested with mind-altering slugs, and if I'm not there to save everyone, why should I take all the blame when there are violent terrorists and twisted bosses to take responsibility?"

Nabiki's eyebrow twitched at being called "twisted," but otherwise her apathetic expression didn't waver. "Why shouldn't you be blamed if innocent people are hurt when it's your job to protect them?"

"I'm a cop, not your personal toy soldier," Ranma responded coldly as he turned back around. "I'll see about saving some kid from a car accident or something on the way home. It's a better use of my time than standing around as a bullet shield for people who can afford REAL bodyguards."

Nabiki idly downed the scotch as Ranma reached for the door, her mind awhirl.

She had expected Ranma to show a bit more spine than in the past, given how he had long ago built up the nerve (or common sense, depending on your point of view) to walk out on the obligations that had locked him in Nerima for two years of his teenage life. What she hadn't expected was the obvious vehemence with which he regarded her, like she was some sort of poisonous snake.

Granted, she hadn't been any kinder to Ranma than anyone else during his Nerima days, and considerably less kind than most, but at least she had possessed the sense and dignity to mistreat him only when it profited her rather than out of petty jealousy or misplaced hatred. He had always seemed to accept her miserly, greedy nature with annoyed resignation before; what had changed that he now detested her to the point that the threat of dead innocents didn't move him? The insults? Ranma had deceptively thick skin and could trade barbs with the best of them. What had she said that could have caused such great offense?

Well, whatever it was that had turned him off, if she didn't counter it soon she was out a bodyguard. While she really would have preferred a power-armored soldier to the lynchpin of the Nerima Wrecking Crew, Ranma was far and away a better choice of guard than the hotel security guards wielding tasers and harsh language.

"You're sure about this now?" Nabiki asked, allowing a tinge of disappointment to enter her voice as she furiously considered her remaining threats. "Naturally I'll have to inform your supervisor if you decide to do this. Just how much do you enjoy being a police officer, Saotome?"

The old "do what I say or I'm telling" tactic was amongst Nabiki's favorites, though she wished she had something more damning and embarrassing to reveal besides Ranma walking out on his job. But having only just stumbled into her long-lost houseguest, she had no idea which skeletons the martial artist currently had in his closet, and guessing wildly was against her nature.

Luckily, it seems the threat of consequences via ordinary authority had worked; Ranma stopped in the doorway, still facing away from her.

"Hmm..." Ranma rubbed his chin thoughtfully, which was admittedly not the reaction Nabiki was hoping for. Ultimately though, she couldn't complain when he finally turned around again. "Fine. I'll do it."

Nabiki was proud of way she didn't let even a speck of relief show on her face. "Good. And if you want to keep your job, then-"

"Shut up," Ranma said sharply, his eyes narrowing as Nabiki's widened fully in surprise. "I don't want to hear your stupid threats, because I don't care about them. I'm not doing this because I'm afraid of losing my job, I'm doing this because my 'supervisor' really wants to see this assignment finished. I have a lot of respect for her, and right now that respect is greater than how much I can't stand you."

The pigtailed man crossed his arms over his chest as he stood before the fairly stunned businesswoman before him. "So for now, you've got yourself a bodyguard. Point out a spot where I can stand around like a lamp post for a few hours and let's get this over with."

Nabiki really didn't know how to respond to that; she was quite angry at Ranma's response, but her immediate reaction to anger was to suppress it such that it didn't give away her emotional state or affect her decisions. 'Okay, so I can expect Ranma to do his job, but he certainly doesn't seem to fear me at all.' It wasn't a situation that she particularly liked, but correcting the pigtailed man's attitude was far more trouble than it was worth, considering that she'd probably never see him again.

"Fine. The show starts in a half hour, so follow me."


Nabiki led Ranma out of the room and down the hall, and then split away from the convention hall Ranma had gone through earlier, heading toward the garages.

Although Nabiki was perfectly fine with the suffocating silence, Ranma began to feel increasingly awkward and uncomfortable; after taking the reigns of their negotiations and verbally strangling Nabiki with them, he had a sinking feeling that the businesswoman was using the silence to think of an appropriate revenge against him.

Being a man most comfortable on the offensive, he decided to throw caution to the wind (as well as the mood, to an extent). "So, how's the family?"

"One thousand yen," Nabiki said automatically.

"You can drop dead," Ranma countered acidly.

Nabiki snorted. "Did I catch you on a bad day, or are you always this touchy nowadays?" she asked as they reached the elevator and she pressed the call button. "Fine. Kasumi's still wasting her life away caring for father who's wasting his life away indulging Akane who's wasting her life away for nobody else's benefit."

"Huh. No marriages or nothin'?" Ranma asked, betraying a little more interest than he meant to. "That's a shame. Kasumi should really have found a husband by now."

"Of course. Kasumi," Nabiki drawled. "Because it seems like you're not going to give me any money, and because I'd like this conversation to end as soon as possible, I'll cut to the chase: yes, Akane's still with what's-his-face, and no, their relationship doesn't seem to be going anywhere."

Ranma looked reasonably embarrassed as they stepped into the elevator. "Oh. Okay. Uh... you see Pops around much?"

Nabiki pressed the button for the third sub-level, and the door promptly slid shut. "No, I don't. Ever since you left, there's been a remarkable and soothing lack of stupidity and pointless violence. Some people complain that it's rather boring, and Daddy complains constantly about the loss of honor and blah blah blah, but in all seriousness leaving with your tail between your legs was the best thing you could have done for Nerima."

Ranma quashed the bubbling irritation at having her put it like that. "I'm kind of surprised I haven't heard from any of you before now, actually. It's not like I'm hard to find nowadays."

"True, being plastered on the front page of the local newspaper and being touted as the single greatest threat to Japanese cities since the atomic bomb isn't exactly subtle," the brunette drawled, "but I'm sure even you can understand that all the people you abandoned have actual lives now that don't revolve around dragging you to one altar or another."

Although Ranma could understand it, and was even rather relieved to hear it, he still found it surprising. "Huh. Even Shampoo?"

"The Amazons have got this whole modernization thing going on back home, and they have to deal with the government now. I hear that Shampoo is even being groomed to be matriarch someday, so they have enough problems without trying to tie you down."

"Ukyo?"

"Started a full-blown restaurant in Osaka. Place is practically a landmark already. She probably hasn't given up on you completely, but an eight-digit salary and a booming business project is a nice fat distraction from her marital status."

"Kodachi?"

"Still crazy," Nabiki said simply as the elevator doors opened, "but last I heard she was branching out into new types of crazy that other crazy people appreciate. She's got some artsy botanist... thing... going on."

As they left the elevator into the garage, she continued before Ranma could ask anything else. "It took some time for them all to figure out that they had more going for them than a fragile relationship with a super-human man-child who was only slightly less terrified of commitment than kittens, and let me tell you, I had to work pretty hard NOT to tell them where you were."

Ranma blinked. Repeatedly. "Wait... what? Why would you do that? They must've offered you a lot of money..."

"In the grand scheme of things, no they didn't," Nabiki said sharply, turning on her heel to face the pigtailed man. "I realized long ago that this whole charade was costing everyone, and ultimately even me, far more than I was making in selling information and naughty pictures. Some people saw you as the throbbing heart of Nerima, but to me you were more like an anchor holding down everyone into the ruts they had dug themselves into."

After watching Ranma struggle to hold back his resentment at her words for a few seconds, Nabiki added, "Also, I learned that information dealing has rather severe limits as far as making money. It takes a lot of time - or when dealing with you, a lot of convenient circumstances - to do the research, doesn't make a lot of friends, and the rewards are infrequent. Corporate business was a much better route."

She then gestured to a number of crates scattered about the garage. "Speaking of which, I need all these heavy, expensive machines moved to the convention hall. Hop to it."

Ranma raised an eyebrow. "Wait... what? I'm a guard, not-"

"Yes, and right now you're going to guard me from the obscene union contracts that make me pay through the nose to have someone lift boxes," Nabiki snapped. "Come on, it's not like it'll be a challenge for you, and I doubt you'd rather stand in place all day watching other people do useful work."

Once again the pigtailed man had to wonder what exactly was keeping him from turning on his heel and walking out of the hotel, possibly with a quick phone call to Snake to suggest that this particular building was built on a suspicious ammunition dump. After a few seconds of fuming however, he silently stepped up to the nearest box and hoisted it up like it was filled with packing peanuts. "I expect a thank you," Ranma grumbled as he stepped past Nabiki into the elevator.

"As long as you don't want a pension, by all means: thank you very much," Nabiki said with a smirk on her lips.

Despite the surprise addition of menial labor to his mission objectives, Ranma soon found himself relaxing as he helped place machinery around the showroom floor, having separated from Nabiki to instead be ordered around by random strangers in expensive suits who could barely be bothered to pause their cell phone conversations.

Ranma had no problems with being a gear in the clockwork despite his ego and love of showmanship. In fact he had been dragged kicking and screaming into the spotlight on so many occasions that he considered the opportunity to melt into the background and just be another worker quite attractive, if only to get a break from being constantly bombarded with sexual advancements and the occasional explosive.

So it was that when the last crate had been hauled up and pried open, Ranma decided to find a nice chair where he could keep an eye on Nabiki and kick back while all the corporate types droned on about things he didn't care about.

'Not nearly as interesting as that science thing me and Kyle crashed,' Ranma mused, remembering the strange grenades and the surprisingly benign mad scientist that had dispensed them. 'Still, boring is less likely to get you blown up by bad guys, I guess.'


Boring was, ultimately, the best way to sum up the show from Ranma's perspective. Even once the show started and people in suits started going up on stage to tout their company's new doodad, Ranma had a hard time understanding what they were talking about, and a much harder time staying interested. Many of the devices were apparently for heavy industry, and there was much talk of new alloy frames that could support this amount of force, or some kind of really small machine that could make even smaller machines that could do things that seemed so small as to be completely insignificant.

He idly considered asking around to see if any of the people knew anything about the special kodachi blades that Snake had given him and if there was some particular way you were supposed to sharpen and maintain an edge that was supposed to be one molecule thick, but found that most of the people who noticed his weapons were uneasy. He'd already had to shoo away two hotel guards that had tried to disarm him, and the rest seemed to be making regular circuits around where he was sitting as they circled through the showroom, as if HE was the biggest threat to the convention. So flashing his knives about and asking the businessmen about how to keep them sharp despite constant use probably wasn't a good idea.

Really, the only thing he had to look forward to was the big raising of the curtain at the end of the hall that he had been unable to peek under before. Sure, it was probably just an oversized welding torch or hat rack or something, but at least the Mishima people had the sense to create some mystery and suspense to their product.

Eventually Nabiki herself stepped onto the platform to speak, although Ranma wasn't really any more interested in her corporate gibberish than anybody else's. Still, he paid strict attention if only because he was supposed to be protecting her from harm.


"I'd like to thank all of you for coming today and for showcasing your firms' products for us at Shiromir Industries," the brunette said in what Ranma guessed was the closest her voice ever came to genuinely pleased. "It's important for all of us to remember the part we play in the great chain of industry and economy in the world, and the contributions our companies make as mankind steps into the twenty-first century. As political turmoil shakes up a quarter of the planet, terrorists spread pointless hate and violence to hold back civilization, and governments continue to fatten themselves with our tax money so that they can better get in our way, it's up to firms such as ours to look to the future, preferably so that we can sell it to the highest bidder."

A few chuckles came from the crowd, though Ranma doubted that she had been speaking in jest.

"Shiromir has had many partnerships over the last decade, but we're always looking to make new friends," Nabiki went on to say as another brunette stepped up behind her. She actually looked a great deal like Nabiki in general, though she was taller, obviously older, and somehow managed to seem like even more of a snob despite the fact that she hadn't even spoken yet. "Mishima Heavy Industries is the latest in the long list of business partners that will help Shiromir, and all of us, step into the future of business. And it is my pleasure to introduce Mishima's representative today, Mrs. Natsume Akiko!"

There was light applause as the older woman stepped forward, peering at the crowd through tinted glasses and smirking haughtily. "As many of you know, Mishima Heavy Industries is a company that specializes in weapons design and manufacturing, and our most impressive products would be quite inappropriate and volatile for a convention specifically scaled down for the sake of subtlety."

Ranma couldn't help but be disappointed at that; apparently it was the security policy itself that had prevented the showcasing of any death rays or super grenades that he could have used in a potential attack.

Akiko's smirk grew as she gestured to the object behind her that was still covered by a curtain. "I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit, however, that Mishima doesn't DO subtlety. And it would be more than inappropriate to welcome such a lucrative business partnership with anything less than the fruits of one of our most fantastic and successful research initiatives."

She swept one arm toward the concealed object, and then grabbed hold of the curtain. "May I present the all-purpose android NK1124 prototype!"

With a fantastic sweeping of the silk sheet, Akiko revealed a brown, four-foot tall rectangular plush doll sitting on a stool with its blocky mouth wide open and short, stubby arms sticking out to either side.

The audience stared at the Domo-kun doll with expressions ranging from bemusement to nervous confusion. Nabiki's expression of smug satisfaction was quite inappropriately frozen in place, a sure sign to those that knew her that she was panicking inside. Akiko herself was stunned silly by the sight in front of her, her jaw opening and closing wordlessly as her eyes bugged out of her head.

Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Eventually the sound of one person clapping seized the attention of the crowd, and very slowly every individual in the room turned toward the source of the noise.

Ranma stopped clapping hesitantly once he realized that the entire room was staring at him. "What? I think a Domo-kun android is kind of neat."

"Dad, what are you doing?"

Ryuunosuke Natsume, a bright-eyed young boy with a mop of brown hair and a nervous expression on his face, watched as his father drove a forklift through the hotel garage toward their car, carrying a rather large crate stamped with numerous warnings in bold red ink.

"Something I should have done months ago," Kyuusaku Natsume muttered around the cigarette clenched in his teeth. Sporting a lab coat and with his unruly brown hair covering his eyes like a curtain, the man looked every bit the typical scientist, his pockets stuffed with notes and schematics as he maneuvered the forklift into position.

Kyuusaku got out of the forklift and then grabbed a crowbar from beneath the seat. "I had my doubts before, but this time Akiko has gone too far," the man said as he wedged the crowbar into place and started prying open the crate. "Even if she's my wife, even if I have to sacrifice our family, I won't let her turn my work into a weapon! I won't let the NK1124 be put into production! This ends now!"

Crack! The crate eventually gave way, and Kyuusaku pulled out the crowbar once one face of the box was loose enough to open by hand. "I'm just sorry that you had to get pulled into all this, Ryuunosuke."

"But where will we go, Dad?" Ryuunosuke asked nervously.

"I'll figure something out. But for now," Kyuusaku said as he pulled open the crate, "we run."

Clunk! Father and son blinked as what was clearly a plastic mannequin in a soft blue turtleneck sweater and stylish jeans tumbled out onto the floor of the parking garage, collapsing in a heap of cheap plastic, designer clothing, and packing foam.

"Dad?" Ryuunosuke asked after a few awkward seconds. "What happened to that robot that you built?"

SCRRRRREECH! The both of them jumped at hearing the squeal of tires, and then looked up just in time to see a container truck zip out of the parking garage at speeds well in excess of safe.

"......... Dad?" Ryuunosuke asked again, turning away from the vehicle that was rapidly zipping off into the streets.

Kyuusaku spat out his cigarette onto the ground and then plucked another one from his pocket before slipping it between his lips and flicking open his lighter. "On second thought, I've only got another year before I'm vested. Who am I to try and steer the entire course of advanced robotics technology?"

Lighting up the cigarette, he patted his son on the head before heading toward the forklift. "Why don't you head back up to the suite? Daddy has to go drive some evidence into the ocean."

"Okay, so let me make sure I have the gist of this," Ranma mumbled as he scrawled notes on a small pad of paper, "this Domo-kun android isn't yours?"

"It's NOT a Domo-kun android!" Akiko shouted in frustration. "And no, it's not mine!"

"If it's not yours, what makes you so sure it's not an android?" Ranma asked, raising an eyebrow.

Thwop! The brunette promptly swatted the ugly brown plushie to the side, sending it bouncing across the showroom floor.

"As an executive of a robotics and weapons technology firm, I think I'd know a heavy-duty mechanical wonder when I see one," Akiko snapped.

"Fair enough," the pigtailed man admitted, jotting down more notes. "Now, have you ever considered making a Domo-kun android? I know I'd buy one."

"Gaaaaah!" The executive screamed, grabbing fistfuls of her hair in frustration before turning toward Nabiki. "Isn't there someone COMPETENT who can fix this?"

Nabiki shook her head as she closed her cellular phone, having just finished her own conversation with the hotel authorities. "Frankly, no. I just got done speaking to the hotel security desk, and they don't have a clue. Nobody was monitoring the garage either, so if the thieves wanted to escape, they've had at least an hour to do so."

"This is an outrage!" Akiko sputtered, turning back to Ranma. "You! It's your job to fix this, isn't it?"

Ranma gave her an annoyed look. "My job isn't to 'fix' anything, lady. My first priority is to keep Tendo safe. My second priority is to keep everybody else safe. I'm not exactly sure where hunting down your stolen goods is on my To Do list, but it probably rates in the double digits, you know?"

"What kind of cop are you?" The executive growled, her hands clenching into fists.

Ranma silently tapped the DAPC logo on the breast of his combat armor, and Akiko groaned weakly as she started rubbing her forehead.

"Look, I'll file a report and we'll get the whole investigation thing started, but I have a different assignment to finish and this really isn't my department's thing anyway, you know?" the pigtailed man explained.

Nabiki snorted. "Makes me wonder why we even pay taxes."

"YOU pay taxes?" Ranma asked, honestly surprised.

Nabiki didn't have the decency to admit to the contrary, or even blush in embarrassment, but rather turned her irritated gaze toward the crowd of businessmen milling about the showroom floor awkwardly. "Well, the show may have turned out bad, but this isn't a total disaster."

"How do you figure that?" Akiko screeched. "A special prototype representing billions of yen of research and production has been swiped from right under our nose, and you say it isn't a total disaster?!"

"No, she's right," Ranma interrupted. "You may be an expert on robots or whatever, but I'm an expert on disasters. And this isn't so bad."

"How could this possibly get any worse?" the older brunette demanded.

"Well, we could have mutants and terrorists storming the place to cover for the theft of your machine," Ranma offered.

Akiko's incredulous reply was pre-empted by a terrified scream coming from outside the convention hall, drawing the immediate attention of everyone inside.

"MONSTER!! IT'S A MONSTER!! RUN!!" Nabiki's eye twitched as one of the hotel security guards ran past the main entrance to the hall, flailing her arms as a rush of panicked tourists and businessmen scrambled along behind her in a panic.

"Huh. Okay, I guess I was asking for that. But this is fine. Everything's going to be fine," Ranma insisted, cracking his knuckles meaningfully as the people in the showroom started milling about nervously and glancing at the emergency exits. "Nobody panic! I've dealt with this before! Please find the nearest piece of available cover and wait there until it is safe to leave the room!"

FWOOOOOSH! A bright flash of light and redoubled screaming came from the hotel lobby.

"Oh God! They have flamethrowers! The MONSTERS have FLAMETHROWERS!!"

As the people around him gaped in stunned silence, Ranma cringed. "Okay, this is a little new to me, actually. Perhaps a LITTLE panic would be appropriate."

"Saotome! Do something about this!" Nabiki shouted angrily.

"All right, all right! Just find someplace safe, and-"

Ranma's instructions were cut off by one of the emergency exits bursting inward as a burly man with a heavy machine gun crashed into the showroom.

"Everybody on the floor or-"

That man's instructions were in turn cut off as Ranma snapped off a trio of shots into his chest, the Jackal's armor-piercing rounds slicing right through genetically enhanced musculature and artificially hardened bone before detonating into dozens of metal shards that turned the unprepared attacker's insides into bloody soup.

Nabiki's eyes widened as the terrorist - his cobra and barbed wire tattoo drawn large over his exposed bicep for all to see - coughed painfully a few times before tilting forward and collapsing on top of his own unused weapon.

"You... Did you just kill that man?" Nabiki asked nervously, idly noting that Akiko's expression hadn't changed from simmering anger despite the sudden violence and the outbreak of panicked shouting in the showroom.

Ranma frowned. "Well, I couldn't really arrest him with the machine gun and all. The situation is a bit dangerous for worrying about that sort of thing, don't you think?"

"Agreed," Akiko snapped before Nabiki could compose a reply. "There's no alternative here but lethal force. Saotome, please see us safely to the garages."

Crash! One of the walls on the side of the showroom exploded as a massive form barreled through it, burying and then trampling a few unlucky businessmen in the process.

Ranma clicked his tongue as he noted the creature's massive frame, musculature, and the featureless plate over its face. "Mauler! Get down and stay away from it!" He shouted, aiming his Jackal at the mutant's bald, shining head.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! The mauler's head lurched back as the three remaining rounds in the magazine punched into its reinforced skull, and the creature stood shock still for a moment as brackish liquid oozed from the cracks in its faceplate.

Click! Clack! Ranma quickly went about reloading his pistol, idly wondering how many enemies had infiltrated the hotel. He seriously doubted the terrorists had brought anything he couldn't handle, but the abundant opportunities for innocents being killed in the crossfire made him nervous.

"Hoooooonnhh..." a hollow, vacuous noise came from the mauler as it turned toward the source of the bullets, hefting its left arm and the rather large metal apparatus attached to it.

The flamethrower attachment looked to be somewhat ramshackle, composed of several metal tubes and a few mismatched tanks of fuel all bolted clumsily to the mauler's forearm, but Ranma couldn't fault its efficiency as a thick tongue of fire belched from the mutant's claw and splashed against the column he was hiding behind.

Apparently Akiko could, however. "A low-temperature gas flamer? In this day and age? They may as well fling matches at us!" The executive said scornfully as she crouched next to Nabiki behind a large industrial press. "Saotome! Shoot the tanks!"

"Are you crazy? The explosion could kill someone!" Nabiki retorted.

Ranma ignored the women behind him as he bounced up and grabbed onto a light fixture, and then swung himself over the jet of fire to land a punishing kick into the mauler's bleeding faceplate.

The mutant shrugged off the blow with ease, groping upward with its free hand as it turned off its flamer in favor of swiping clumsily at its attacker.

Ranma landed atop the mauler's head, and then slipped down behind its back, grabbing onto the metal tube that ran from the back of its skull to the small of its back.

"Hey, is that press powered on and everything?" Ranma shouted as the monstrosity stumbled about, smashing its arms against the nearest support column savagely and sending great chunks of marble bouncing across the hall.

"I believe so. Why?" Akiko demanded.

With a quick flip, Ranma had grabbed hold of the damaged column and drawn in his legs underneath his body, aiming his feet for the enraged mutant's back. "Incoming!"

Whomph! The pigtailed cop slammed both legs into the mauler, doing little appreciable damage but sending the mutant stumbling forward, closer to where Akiko and Nabiki were hiding.

Without wasting another moment, Ranma pushed off of the column and flew through the air in an acrobatic spin, lashing out with another punishing kick to the back of the mauler's head that finally sent the creature teetering forward.

Thwang! The mauler hit its head on the bed of the press awkwardly as it tried to catch itself with its cumbersome claws, but the poor dexterity of the limbs - to say nothing of the haphazard machine attached to one of them - didn't allow it much time to maneuver before Akiko Natsume flipped off a safety key and then calmly activated the press.

SCRUNCH! Many of the people watching, including Nabiki, winced and made squeamish expressions as the mauler's head and shoulders were smashed into a thick pulp that oozed out of the cracks of the machine and onto the carpet below.


Akiko hit the button to open the press, and then stared at the gory remains of the mauler with undisguised fascination. "Very efficient. Although with that design there isn't much to keep the moving parts from getting gummed up with monster guts, is there?"

A rather pale man slowly stood up from behind an automobile frame. "It w-wasn't meant for-"

"Never mind, just make sure you put some nice big warning signs on the front," the brunette said before turning toward Ranma. "Saotome, lead the way to the garage."

Ranma frowned at the executive as he took out his radio handset. "Not yet. There's no telling how many more enemies there are out there, and we have injured people here."

Without letting Akiko or Nabiki the chance to lodge a complaint, Ranma turned toward a few people that were starting to creep toward the exit that the terrorist had come from. "Hey! You guys help dig out those people that got trampled! I think they're still alive! I'm calling for backup!"

Akiko looked annoyed, but restrained herself from giving any more orders. "I knew I should have brought Arisa along... or at least ONE suit of powered armor..."

"I don't know, you seem to be taking this just fine as it is," Nabiki mumbled, her nervousness clear in her voice.

"You learn to put up with these sorts of things when you work at Mishima," Akiko confided, taking a handkerchief out of her pocket to rub some of the mauler's blood off of her shoe. "Some factories count their days between accidents. We take it one hour at a time."

"How lovely," Nabiki deadpanned. 'Christ, I meet Ranma for the first time in years and after just two hours I'm already surrounded by crazy people again.'

"Hey Lieutenant, we've got a call," Tycho said as Snake lounged in the passenger's seat with his arms folded under his head.

"Yeah? On the direct line? From who?" the American asked, betraying only token interest.

Tycho switched on the speaker on the radio, and Snake gave a start as he heard Ranma's voice.

-need some help here, terrorist gunmen and mutants have infiltrated the hotel and are attacking civilians. Casualties are light but panic is starting to set in. We need to make sure the outside is clear so that we can safely evacuate the hotel and help the wounded!

Snake promptly picked up the microphone handset. "We hear ya Saotome. We're on our way. Just keep the kids safe for now, all right?"

Thanks Snake. I'm fine for now but I don't want to take any chances.

Tycho turned the corner and then accelerated down the straightaway, turning on the sirens as he started weaving through traffic at thoroughly unsafe speeds.

After a few seconds, another radio message came through on the speaker, this time in the voice of an unfamiliar female dispatcher.

Calling all cars, calling all cars, we have a violent disturbance taking place on Kurono and Tien Avenue. All available units in the area, please respond. There is a major risk to local civilians.

Tycho raised an eyebrow. "That's right near here. Do you think it's the Angels?"

"Even if it is, our first priority is helping out Saotome," Snake insisted, reaching to turn off the radio.

Someone, please respond! Pirates are fighting Ninja!

The ear-rending screech of tires was soon drowned out in a cacophony of panicked horns honking as Tycho turned into a power slide that slipped the DAPC cruiser into the adjacent lane going the opposite direction, heedless of the multiple vehicles that had been in his way.

"Saotome, this is Snake," the American said seriously as he thumbed the handset again. "That's a negative on those reinforcements. Sorry buddy, but there's some serious action going on around here."

What? What do you mean there's-

"The public is in danger, man!" Snake retorted sharply. "Besides, I'm sure you can handle anything those dorks throw at you! Over and out."

But we need-Click!

"Floor it, Wattai."

"You got it, Lieutenant."

"Help isn't coming, is it?" Nabiki asked miserably as Ranma frowned at the handset.

"Well, why not?" Akiko demanded.

"It might be because there are other forces in the city that need to be dealt with for the sake of keeping the peace, even if it means spreading our power thin," Ranma ventured, "but I'm pretty sure it's because the people in my department suck."

"Well, forget them!" Nabiki growled, "lead us out yourself!"

Ranma considered this for a moment, and then nodded. "Okay. It's just one floor from the street level, so we can go out the front way. I'll go down first and make sure the coast is clear. On my signal, start coming down single file and exit the building, all right?"

With that the pigtailed man stepped out of the convention hall cautiously, glancing about the halls for any sign of movement before he hopped over the railing that overlooked the hotel lobby on the level below.


KWABOOOM! Akiko winced as a thunderous explosion came from below, shattering the panes of well-polished glass under the balcony railing and sending the numerous civilians around her onto the floor in the prone position.

"That's a shame. He was actually rather capable as a bodyguard," the executive mumbled sadly. "I'm sorry for your loss, Tendo."

"I'm not dead yet!" Came an annoyed shout from below, which was immediately followed by the whirring noise of a minigun spinning. "What the-"

Braap-aap-aap-aap-aap-aap! The noise of ricocheting bullets soon drowned out the weapon's engine and Ranma's swearing, and Akiko frowned as she watched the bits of wall and glass all around the lobby below shatter and tear from the onslaught of lead.

"Should we be helping him?" a middle-aged man asked nervously as he peered over the balcony.

"If something like this were enough to kill Saotome then property in Nerima would actually be worth a damn," Nabiki said, shaking her head. "We have to stay out of the line of fire and get out on our own."

"I couldn't help but notice a great deal of contempt underlying your admiration of our brave and noble officer down there," Akiko deadpanned as another roar and flare of light marked a rocket explosion from below.

"We have a history," Nabiki spat. "Anyway, I'm sure that he's attracted plenty of attention by now, and I'm not going to wait here for his signal within a grenade's toss of the conflict zone. Come with me."

Ptang! Thwock! Ranma crawled along the ground like a lizard as bits of leaves and chunks of ceramic rained down upon him from the large planters he was using as cover.

'Okay... things are a little intense, but nothing I can't really handle...' he thought to himself as he peeked up to see the mauler near the back clumsily reloading its arm-mounted rocket launcher. There were two of the mutant beasts, one with the aforementioned rocket launcher on its arm and another with a heavy machine gun. There were two men too that Ranma could see, one of whom was keeping up most of the suppressive fire with a minigun.

Ratta-tatta-tatta! He ducked again as the mauler with the machine gun started spraying his position, and then once again scrambled for the next piece of low cover.

Dodging a bullet was an impressive feat to be sure, and one that Ranma got a lot of practice doing recently, but dodging constant salvos of suppressive fire was quite a different trick that had a lot less to do with uncanny reflexes and timing and a lot more to do with sheer luck. Judging by his day so far, Ranma wasn't in any hurry to stake his life on the whims of fate.

'I'm badly outgunned, outnumbered, and half the enemies are those big, tough bastards that have big guns bolted onto their arms. Think! What would Snake do?'

(Hypothetical plan 1: Snake)

Bwock! A random executive was sent sprawling as Snake backhanded him across the face.

"Wh-What are you doing?" the man asked tremulously as the American glared down at him.

Snake pointed toward the cigarette that was lying on the floor, having landed there after being loosened violently from the businessman's lips. "You were about to light that up, weren't you?"

"So what?" the man demanded, getting angry. "I'm in the middle of a firefight! I don't think a smoke to calm my nerves is too much to ask!"

The man let out a choked gasp as Snake suddenly stomped on his chest, slamming his back onto the floor.

"Well, you're wrong!" the American snarled. "We're in a life-or-death situation here, and the last thing I need is to start choking on poison dust when I'm trying to arm bombs, here!"

Nabiki blinked. "Wait, bombs? You placed bombs? Where?"

"Everywhere," Snake replied unhelpfully. "But I think that's a rather insignificant issue when some jackass is apparently taking this opportunity to give cancer to those of us who might actually survive!"

"You'd be wrong, actually," Nabiki supplied, only to be ignored. "Now seriously, is this entire building rigged to blow or-"

"Little busy here," Snake snapped, throwing the executive to the ground. "All right, everyone line up and toss all tobacco products onto the floor! If I catch anybody with some later, they're automatically volunteering to be mauler bait for the next explosive trap!"

Ranma sweatdropped heavily. 'Huh. That was a dry well. Uhhh... what would the captain do?'

(Hypothetical plan 2: Asuka)

"Saotome, are you all right?" Asuka shouted as minigun rounds whizzed past the column she was using for cover.

"I'm okay! What do we do?" Ranma shouted back from where he was pinned down behind a huge planter.

"Get behind them and cut down the minigun! That'll stop the suppressive fire!" the police captain advised. "There's no way you'll win in a firefight here!"

"Okay, that's a good idea, if not a bit obvious," Ranma mumbled, "how am I supposed to get behind them?"

"As a construct of your own mind, if I had a brilliant solution, would you really have to go through something as convoluted as imagining other people in your situation?" Asuka asked blithely.

"Point taken," Ranma mumbled bitterly.

"Sorry," the figment of Ranma's imagination apologized. "By the way, the mauler with the rockets is about to fire again."

"Wait, what?" Ranma asked himself as he emerged from his thoughts, idly noticing a sudden lull in the bullets flying all around him.

Pssshaaah! The fairly small rocket blasted forward from the cumbersome launcher on the mauler's claw, sailing over the severely damaged fountain dominating the majority of the lobby and detonating against the planters to reduce the bulky obstacles into burning chunks of dirt and marble.

"Did that do it?" Asked the terrorist carrying the minigun, glancing at his remaining ammunition belt in concern.

"Don't stop firing, you idiot! Don't you know who we're fighting here?" Another man demanded from where he was taking cover behind a mauler.

"I don't see how it matters..." the genetically enhanced thug mumbled as he squeezed the trigger again to start the motor once more.

Tank! The engine ground to a halt as a kodachi wedged itself between the barrels at a key point, and the gunner gaped as he glanced around for the source.

"What? But how did he-"

"Gugh!" The gunman in the rear cried out as he was suddenly struck from behind and then grabbed, his assault rifle tumbling out of his slack fingers.

Ranma picked up the man off the ground and then flung him bodily toward the nearest mauler as the two lumbering beasts turned to face him. "Here, catch!"

He was reasonably surprised when the mutant did just that, clumsily snatching the human projectile out of the air and idly crushing him in the claws of its free hand even as the man screamed in agony.

The mauler threw the hapless terrorist to the side, finishing him off when he slammed into the wall hard enough to collapse what was left of his spine. Its free claw empty once more, it promptly charged at the exposed police officer.

Its partner, which had taken a moment to figure out that firing a machine gun into the midst of its allies was not a good idea, decided to charge at the same time, swinging its bulky, muscular arm down on its pigtailed target just as the other mauler thrust its claws forward to impale him.

Predictably, Ranma dashed under the mauler in front of him at the last minute, and was quite satisfied to hear an agonized moan follow the sound of snapping carapace as the two maulers slammed into each other.

Clank! Ranma's head snapped to the side as the remaining terrorist finally dislodged the knife from his weapon, and the pigtailed cop promptly dashed toward him with a roundhouse kick that sent the gunman staggering backwards and his heavy weapon falling to the floor.

"Here, have yer knife back!" the man snarled as he threw the liberated kodachi forward, aiming for his opponent's face.

Ranma clapped his hands together in front of his nose, catching the weapon harmlessly before slipping it back into the sheathe on his thigh.

"Thanks," he mumbled, noting that the maulers were now angrily slugging each other on purpose, "here, have your gun back."

The terrorist's eyes widened as Ranma hefted the minigun with one hand, and then suddenly burst forward, bringing the weapon down over his head like a bludgeon. WHAM!

Seeing his opponent crumple to the ground unconscious - though he could tell the man was not fatally wounded - Ranma turned toward the two mutants that were now battling in earnest.

Thwump! The machine gun-armed mutant, which was now bleeding profusely out of several large holes punched in its torso, finally managed to grab its partner's head in its claws as Ranma watched.

"Haaaaaaaahhh..." An empty moan came from the rocket-armed mauler as the other mutant started to apply pressure, rapidly overcoming the hardened shell that protected the mutants' craniums and crushing its partner's skull into a gooey mess.

Ranma was prepared to leap onto the back of the active mutant while it was still occupied, but hesitated as he saw the dying mauler's arms go limp, rocket launcher still attached.

Drawing his pistol, the martial artist instead took aim at the exposed ammunition of the explosive weapon as the surviving mutant slowly turned around to face him.

Ptang! Twang! KWABOOM!! The third bullet hit the warhead just right, and the live mauler was thrown to the side as the detonation pummeled its back, adding considerable damage to the wounds it had already suffered in putting down its partner.

Pieces of concrete and plaster crumbling all around it, the powerful mutant slowly pushed itself up onto its knees, its over-reactive glands flooding its system with adrenaline and endorphins to force the mauler back into combat.

Shwak! The creature flinched as Ranma walked up behind it and almost lazily severed the cable that arced out of the mutant's skull and then fed down into its back, prompting the damaged tube to spit out a burst of pressurized stimulants and oily fluids.

"Hhhhrrrrrnnnnn..." the mauler emitted an almost sorrowful moan as its energy seeped out of it, and then collapsed face-down onto the shattered tile floor below, its body still.


"Hah... hah..." Ranma breathed heavily as the euphoria of combat left him, and he had to fight back a painful moan himself once he got a better idea of how bad his injuries were.

His wounds were nothing crippling, of course, at least not to him. Besides some minor burns from the first explosion and harsh scratches from the resultant shrapnel, he had taken a single bullet to the calf due to a lucky ricochet (or unlucky, as it were) that hadn't penetrated too far but was starting to sting quite a bit.

"All right! Looks like everything's clear!" Ranma shouted upward as he started working at his leg to get the bullet out. "Everybody stay calm and head outside! Don't rush and keep an eye out for glass and stuff!"

He grunted as he pried a crooked length of metal out of his bloodied calf, and then flicked it aside as he realized that he didn't hear anyone descending the stairs.

"Hello? You guys can come down now!" he repeated, growing more concerned at the total lack of response. "Tendo? You there? Nabiki?"

Gritting his teeth, the pigtailed man leapt up to the second floor, catching the slightly twisted railing of the second floor balcony and then pulling himself up to view the area where the civilians were supposed to be waiting for his signal.

Granted, he was considerably relieved that he didn't find the whole lot reduced to a bloody paste because someone or something had attacked them from behind while he was dealing with the threat in the lobby, but he still felt reasonably miffed that he had narrowly avoided being perforated only for the people under his protection to find their own route to safety.

"Aw, screw it, I'm leaving," Ranma mumbled, hopping back and landing somewhat painfully in one of the smoldering craters that decorated the lobby now. "If they left on their own, there's nothing I could do. Besides, there can't be that many more enemies around. I'm sure they'll be fine."

Rrrrrrrumble...

The pigtailed cop stopped short as the entire structure around him trembled slightly, causing some of the rubble and broken glass on the floor to bounce along the floor all around his feet.

"I'm not sure who I hate more right now," Ranma grumbled as he turned around and stalked toward the garages, "Nabiki for running off like that, or Snake for leaving me to deal with all this while he..."

Ranma stopped for a second, wondering about his earlier communication with the American and the way it ended suddenly. "Wait, what was he doing, anyway?"

Shwnk!

"Shiver me timbers, the blighter's got me arm!" shouted a man with an eyepatch and a large feathered triangle cap as his hand went flying through the air following a prodigious fan of blood.

Boom! The man responsible - a trim figure wearing a baggy black Ninja outfit and a face mask that concealed all but his eyes - lurched forward as a bullet from a matchlock pistol plowed into his back, smashing his spine to splinters and killing him quickly, if not painlessly.

"Shadow image nonsense magic no jutsu!" screamed a Ninja, clouds of smoke bursting around him as identical Ninja appeared and leapt directly at the snarling buccaneers.

"Yaaar! Give 'em a broadside to the chops, lads!"

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! A salvo of fire from the frankly ancient caravel moored in the nearby harbor devastated the crowd of unruly assassins, nearly half of them exploding into clouds of smoke or pulverized flesh and limbs.

"Angry dragon fire banana-fana-no-jutsu!" FWOOSH!

"Arr! Me fragile, flammable skin! Ya shadowy landlubbers'll pay fer that!"


As the bloody rampage intensified, Snake and Tycho watched from a nearby sidewalk from inside their police cruiser, both of them nursing tall cans of local beer.

"Damn. Looks like the pirates have the edge, but those Ninja aren't going down without a fight," Tycho mused, sipping his beverage.

"Ooh! Nice assist by the first mate! Heh, now he's not the only one who'll need an eyepatch," Snake commented as he hit the reclining lever and leaned back in the car.

"Man, I really feel sorry for Saotome. This is probably the most awesome battle EVER, and he's stuck fighting desperately for his life or something."

"Point," Snake agreed, "I feel for the guy, but SOMEBODY in our department has to be responsible and effectual until the captain comes back."

Pssht! Calling all cars, calling all cars, we're getting reports of vehicle pileups near the major conflict area. Be on the lookout for an unregistered liquid transport truck containing unknown chemicals, and a live animal transport from the local zoo. Both have suffered collisions near-Click!

The dispatcher's voice was silenced as Tycho switched the radio off, looking annoyed. "That's enough of that. Whoa! Did you see that? That shuriken sliced right THROUGH the peg leg!"

Snake frowned as he continued to watch the chaos spread out before them. "Wait... what did the dispatch say? Something about suspicious chemicals?"

"Dude, who cares?" Tycho shot back. "We're watching pirates fight Ninja! This could not POSSIBLY be any more awesome!"


"Grrruuooh..."

Ignoring the groaning noise behind him, a shirtless pirate wearing a bandanna over his head managed to parry a swift katana strike with his saber, and then kicked forward to knock the Ninja he was fighting right on his back.

"Ahoy, victory be mine landlubbwah?" the pirate trailed off in confusion as he found himself grabbed from behind by a pair of rotting arms, and then the man screamed as filthy, pus-encrusted teeth sank into the back of his neck.

"Yaaar! Come port side, mateys! Zombies be attackin'!" the captain shouted, his lip curling into a sneer as the living dead shambled into the battle lines.

The Ninja that had been knocked to the ground flipped back onto his feet, and then drew his short blade in order to finish off his preoccupied foe.

Thunk! The assassin was caught by surprise as a switchblade landed between his shoulderblades, and the Ninja promptly crumpled to the ground as his assailant swung about merrily on a nearby lamp post, brandishing another switchblade in its hands.

"Ook ook eeeek!"

"Do not drop your guard, brave Ninja!" the Ninja commander shouted as he drew another handful of shuriken, "monkeys are here! Monkeys with knives!"


There was a long moment of silence within the police cruiser as Tycho and Snake stared at the increasingly chaotic conflict.

"I've never been so happy to be proven wrong," Tycho admitted, very nearly brought to tears by what he was seeing.

Snake wordlessly raised his beer, prompting Tycho to raise his own beverage and solemnly tap his can against Snake's.

"Did you hear that?" a businessman asked nervously as the group of civilians entered the parking garage with Nabiki and Akiko at the head.

"The explosion wasn't that loud; those charges wouldn't be sufficient to bring down the infrastructure of the hotel," Akiko mused as Nabiki shot her an exasperated look. "I'd say they're trying to break open the hotel safes with twenty pounds of plastique and no clue."

"As long as they're not busy trying to hunt down civilians, they can burn down the whole blasted building for all I care," Nabiki mumbled. "Parking on the next level down was reserved for the convention, right? We're almost done with this."

"I s-still don't think it was a good idea to leave the cop back there," stuttered a bespectacled engineer, "isn't he the professional in all this?"

"Saotome's a good fighter," Nabiki said blithely as she headed down the stairs, "hell, I'll admit that he's a great fighter. But he's never been particularly good at keeping other people out of these sorts of messes. I'd trust my own instincts to get me out of trouble long before..."

It was at this point that Nabiki's voice trailed off as a direct consequence of her heart leaping up into her throat and utterly strangling off any statements of self-assurance that she could have produced. Upon turning the corner, she had unwittingly stepped right into view of a largish machine with a man inside, most notable for the two machine guns mounted on its arms and a single missile box placed on its shoulder.

Akiko stepped up behind Nabiki, and the woman had to fight off a contemptuous groan as she saw the junk mech that had stopped the fellow executive in her tracks. The machine was obviously built from scrapped military hardware held together with patchy machining and a few high-end parts; all together the device was barely eight feet tall, and the pilot was only partially protected behind twisted iron plates and a dirty panel of safety glass without any sort of obvious aiming peripheral.

Still, the fact remained that the mech seemed entirely functional as it stepped toward them menacingly, and seeing how Akiko had none of Mishima's more capable products available she reasoned that she'd keep her derision to herself.

"Stop where you are, brats! Try and run and you're dust!" the pilot snarled.

Akiko sighed as she raised her arms into the air in surrender, and Nabiki hesitantly did the same as one by one the rest of the executives came down the stairs and held up their hands.

Besides the mecha there was a large box truck, notably similar to those that many of the convention's attendees used to transport their products but conspicuously lacking a logo or license plates.

"So can I assume you have my android in there?" Akiko asked bluntly, gesturing toward the truck.

The mech pilot raised his eyebrow at the woman. "Android? Oh, right. Naw, that thing's gone already. We're just sticking around for some extra goodies. Speaking of which: Sukana! Gecher ass out here!"

After a few seconds, another terrorist stepped out of the truck, brightening instantly as he saw all the well-dressed and terrified captives.

"Well I'll be. If it isn't the fine and law-abiding upper classes, here to grace us poor downtrodden folk with their presence!" the new man joked.

"Eh? Who's here?" a third man asked as he followed the second one out while hefting a submachine gun in one hand and dragging along a small struggling boy in the other.

Akiko's eyes bulged, and her face turned several shades paler. "Ryuunosuke! What are you doing with him?"

The boy glanced up at the crowd, and his own expression tensed as he realized that his mother was among the hostages before them.

"This punk yours?" the second terrorist asked, a smug grin on his face. "Well isn't that just lovely? Here we saw this young thing walking about where it was dangerous - what with all the gunfire and mutants stumbling about - so we took him aside to keep him out of the way. Wasn't that nice of us?"

The businesswoman fumed silently, unwilling to either antagonize the men in front of her or start begging for mercy or bargains.

"Well, I figure since we're such nice, helpful people, it's only fair that you hand over your wallet in exchange for getting your boy back unharmed, right?" the terrorist asked pleasantly. "And since the rest of you bigwigs are also nice, helpful people, you'll all help out with your own donations, right?"

The executives were actually rather relieved to acquiesce to the rather bald extortion, hoping that it meant the terrorists had no interest in killing them at this point. Soon the terrorist that had made the request was happily collecting purses and wallets from the cowering civilians, none of them offering so much as a complaint.

His companion with the submachine gun had other concerns, however. "Hey, don't you think Jonei is taking an awful long time? If we don't leave soon, we're gonna run into trouble for sure! We don't have the guns to fight off a police pursuit."

"Whaddya mean we don't have the guns?" the mecha pilot snarled, "we'll just drop the maulers if things get sticky."

"And have Core or the DAPC on our ass?" the terrorist countered, much to the surprise and interest of many of the civilians present. "No way, man! This operation is supposed to be quick! Hit 'em hard, snatch the good stuff, and then duck out while everybody's putting out the fires! If they take much longer, I say we ditch 'em!"

The other terrorist mostly ignored his companion's discussion as he filled his arms and jacket with cash and credit cards, and eventually he reached Nabiki, noting immediately that the woman didn't have a purse ready to hand to him.

"All right, you too. Gimme everything you've got," he demanded with a smirk.

Nabiki, who had slipped back into her usual emotionless mask, just shrugged. "You can have my necklace and cell phone if you really want them, but I don't have much else on me."

"You don't look like the type to go without money to me," the man insisted dryly.

"I don't go without money, but I tend to go without my own money," Nabiki explained smugly. "Anyway, if your friends upstairs really did crack the safe, then you already have all my valuables; I keep them in the hotel safe for just this sort of occasion."

The man hesitated for a moment, as if he was going to accept the excuse, and then that sleazy smirk appeared again.

"Well now, I can't be so sure you're telling the truth. I think I'll have to search you real carefully, won't I?" he said, jeering as he reached for the brunette's chest.

Back in Nerima, while surrounded by insecure and socially self-conscious teenagers, the sort of look that Nabiki leveled at the terrorist could have probably caused her victim to have a paralyzing stroke on the spot in fear of future retribution. Unfortunately for her, the man before her had no fear for the woman he was fondling, feeling absolutely secure in his position of power as his hands roamed greedily over the smooth curves of Nabiki's body.

"Sukana! Dude! We don't have time for that!" the man with the submachine gun complained.

"Shut up! Until the others get back, I can do whatever the hell I want!" the lecher responded as his hands wandered further down the disgusted brunette.

"I'm serious! Something's wrong! Don't you think it's weird we haven't heard from anyone else yet? Or heard anything at ALL? What happened to all the rocket fire? If the guys haven't gotten the safe open yet, why haven't we heard a second detonation?"

Much to Nabiki's relief, the terrorist named Sukana released her in order to turn around and address his partner. "Well, if something DID happen to them, we haven't heard anything that could have killed them either, did we? What could they possibly have skulking around in here that could take out a mauler? Or more to the point, what do they have that could take out a mauler and THEN take out a junker mech without making enough noise to giving itself away first?"

Brum-brum-brum-br-br-br-br-br! In all fairness to the terrorist, the sound of the box truck suddenly starting up did give significant warning that something was amiss, ultimately proving his point. However, it was all for naught as the creaky junker failed to move before the truck lurched backward at full acceleration, smashing into the side of the surprised mecha and pushing it across the pavement toward the far wall.

WHAM!! Crunch! Sparks and bits of metal and glass burst from the junker as it was crushed against the reinforced concrete, the armor holding fast even as the servos, engines, and pilot within were mashed into twisted, useless pancakes.

The truck itself held up quite well with the impact, having much of the force absorbed by the hapless mech, and bounced slightly on its wheels before the acceleration let up and the vehicle halted with its engine still drumming noisily.

"Wh-What the hell..." the remaining armed terrorist finally let go of Ryuunosuke and approached the driver's-side door, his expression halfway between disbelief and fear.

Whang! Before the man could reach for the door handle, the door itself suddenly flew from the vehicle frame and slammed into him, having been kicked right off of its hinges from inside. The man was sent reeling backward onto the ground, his face flattened and bloody.

"Saotome! Finally!" Nabiki groused, seeing the pigtailed man stooped on the edge of the passenger's seat and glaring down at the man he had just pasted. "What the hell were you doing all this time?"

Ranma's hand was already going for his gun, but at Nabiki's question it halted. "Hey," he said to the only remaining terrorist, who had seemingly frozen up at the sudden turn of events, "are you just gonna stand there so I can pick you off, or what?"

The man seemed to snap out of his daze immediately, and promptly grabbed a surprised Nabiki by the arm before opening a switchblade and holding it to the brunette's neck. "S-Stay back! I swear I'll cut her if you take even one step!"

"SAOTOME!" Nabiki screamed, her face turning pink, "What the hell was that?"

"Just stay calm Miss, there's no need to provoke him," Ranma deadpanned.

"This isn't funny!" she screamed back, feeling herself being tugged toward the stairwell. "Hurry up and save me!"

"Don't worry, I'm sure he wants you alive," Ranma mused almost conversationally, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "You're a big shot, right? If they demand a ransom, it'll all work out."

The terrorist didn't completely understand what was going on, or why the police officer seemed almost intent on letting him get away, but chose not to question his fortune as he made it to the foot of the stairs and then turned around.

Bzzzt! The man let out a strangle gasp and Nabiki a pained yelp as a pair of electrodes pressed into his arm, and the terrorist promptly fell to the ground in a spasming heap as his knife bounced away under the stairs.


"Sorry about that, Tendo," Akiko apologized as she slipped her taser back into her inner jacket pocket. "Are you all right?"

"D-Did you have th-that thing the whole t-time?" Nabiki asked shakily, accepting the woman's hand to help her up.

"Of course I did. Usually I prefer to have something with a little more punch on standby, like a VN-290 armored combat suit, but Shiromir DID ask us to stay low-key," Akiko drawled, stepping away from Nabiki to take her son's hand. "There are times when you just can't rely on the local help, you know?"

"Oh yes," Nabiki said venomously as she turned back to the truck where Ranma was still sitting.

The pigtailed man shrugged helplessly. "Well, that's a wrap I guess. All the terrorists are gone and the exit is clear; there are already ambulances up top evacuating the injured people that were left in the show room. Everyone's clear to leave."

The majority of the civilians wasted little time after this point, with half of them practically racing toward the vehicles as fast as they could, and the other half descending on the stunned terrorist to liberate their wallets.

Nabiki, Akiko, and Akiko's son were notable exceptions, not that Ranma really expected the middle Tendo daughter to let him get away with his earlier stunt. "Yes? Was there something else you ladies needed? It's probably best that you leave now, just in case there's a bad guy I missed, or they left some explosives around."

"Don't give me that," Nabiki snapped. "Just what were you thinking back there?"

"I was thinking about how hard it would be to lie, cheat, and fast-talk your way out of a desperate terrorist taking you hostage, and how if anybody could actually manage that, it'd be you," Ranma said drolly. "I have to say, I was kind of disappointed. What, are you not getting much practice without me around?"

Nabiki's eyebrow twitched, though to her credit her expression actually turned calmer rather than more enraged. "And what would you have done if that sick bastard actually managed to escape with me?"

"Well, now we'll never know, will we?" Ranma deadpanned. "Are you going to leave or not? Us cops have this whole 'debriefing' deal after a mission, and I kind of want to get a good start on it. Also? I've been SHOT."

"Oh, boo hoo," Nabiki snapped. "You know that freak that you almost let get away with me? That bastard felt me up! I think he was going to rape me!"

Ranma blinked. "So... are you hurt or anything?"

"That's not the point!"

"Actually, it kind of IS," Ranma snapped back, being irritated at hearing such a complaint when other people were being carried out of the building on stretchers.

"Ahem!" Nabiki's rebuttal was cut off as Akiko finally cleared her throat, none-too-subtlely demanding their attention. "Be that as it may, despite your... lapse in judgment, you did excellently," the older brunette said, gently squeezing her son's hand. "And I will be the first to admit that we had our lapse, one that put you and ourselves in much greater danger. Yet you still prevailed and rescued us, as well as... most of our assets that were at risk."

There was a tinge of disappointment in Akiko's voice, but it almost sounded forced, as if she was trying to make sure she seemed concerned about her company's interests after being reunited with her son. "Mishima Heavy Industries could use a man like you amongst its ranks. You wouldn't happen to be looking for a new career path, would you?"

Ranma promptly backed off, shaking his head. "Sorry, but there's no way. Police work isn't the best gig ever, lemme tell you; you have to work with some really strange people, and sometimes you get called out to do some really awful jobs," he stopped to glance meaningfully at Nabiki, who simply rolled her eyes in response, "but it's important to me."

"Of course. I understand," Akiko said humbly, beaming at the pigtailed man. "If you ever change your mind, you should be able to find me without much trouble. Have a good day Mister Saotome, and thank you."

Akiko then moved past Ranma and Nabiki, smiling down at Ryuunosuke as she did so. "Now Ryuu-honey, can you tell me where Daddy went? Mommy has to have a nice, long talk with Daddy about leaving you alone in the middle of a terrorist attack..."


Ranma felt a slight chill down his back at that thought, and offered a silent prayer to the woman's husband.

"Miss Natsume may be happy with this catastrophe, but I'm not," Nabiki growled, demanding the pigtailed man's attention once again. "I've lived with you long enough to know that you should be able to do better than this. The convention is ruined, as are several delicate and expensive machines, the enemy got away with a valuable piece of military hardware, several people were injured if not killed, the hotel is a wreck, and you LET one of those idiot terrorists take me hostage! Maybe if you saved a close family member of mine I'd feel differently - Kami knows that's how you've gotten away with this nonsense in the past - but this is the sort of guard job I'd expect of Ryoga or Pantyhose Tarou!"

Ranma's earlier irritation returned with a vengeance. "Now wait a minute! How is any of that-wait, his name is still Pantyhose?"

"Yeah, still Pantyhose. That's one power struggle that hasn't changed with your leaving, at least."

"Huh. Go figure," Ranma mumbled before turning around. "Well, I'm outta here."

Nabiki blinked in surprise. "Wait, I-"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you before," Ranma mumbled as he started to walk away, "and since apparently you didn't hear ME before, I'll repeat what I said earlier: I don't care. You're still alive, so mission accomplished."

"Wow, a big hand for Captain Ambitious over here," Nabiki drawled. "What happened to all that jazz about 'being the best'? You still into that?"

A dozen scathing responses occurred to Ranma before he finally stopped himself and then glanced back over his shoulder. "You know what your problem is, Tendo?"

"Yes: I have this tendency to rely on idiots," she said evenly, "but I doubt that was what you had in mind, so, by all means, please tell me exactly what the big problem is."

"The problem with you is that you treat people like tools," Ranma said, grudgingly pushing aside the brunette's insult. "I don't just mean that you use people; I mean, every boss does that, and it's fine. But you use people the same way you'd use a hammer or a pair of pliers or something. They're not human beings to you, with needs and emotions or whatever. They're just machines that do what you want when you press the right buttons. And when they don't work right, or don't work as well as you think they should, you just discard them for a new one, or give it a swift kick, or in my case, try to whine me into coma."

Nabiki was about to speak again, but Ranma kept going, turning around fully.

"But that's not all, either. At some point you couldn't even tell the difference between your tools and everybody else's. Everybody became a lever for you to pull, or a locked box full of money for you to open up with the levers. You've divided everyone around you into assets and liabilities, just waiting to be cashed in or dumped."

If Nabiki was at all impressed with Ranma's insight, she didn't show it. "I do hope you have a point coming sometime soon."

In response, Ranma turned around and lightly kicked the bloodied terrorist that had been knocked out with the truck door. "My point is that as philosophies go, it's way too close to what these bastards do, or at least their bosses. Everyone is a tool to be used, a target to be exploited, or an obstacle to be destroyed. And they have the support of some business leaders too, because they figured they'd come up on top."

The pigtailed man gave Nabiki a final glare as he started walking toward the exit again. "Don't get me wrong, you obey the law and everything, and that counts for a lot. But I still wonder: if you were to get a phone call describing the costs and benefits of assisting with a massacre, would you hang up right away? Or would you hear them out? Because maybe the offer might just be worth it..."

Nabiki's gaze was unflinching as Ranma trailed off. "Huh. I see. I don't suppose we have anything more to talk about, do we?"

"See you later," Ranma responded as he walked out. "Except, you know, NOT."

"Ugh..." Ranma very nearly collapsed on the plush sofa in DAPC headquarters, releasing a sigh of contentment as his body sank into the comfortable material.

Aside from the disinfectant-soaked bandages over his calf, his injuries were all but a memory, and one which he was making every attempt to ignore until it was purged entirely from his consciousness.

"Man, are you okay?" Tiro asked, entering the room and noticing the pigtailed man's state of exhaustion. "Was the assignment that bad?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Ranma admitted, "though right now I'm more annoyed that I had to patch up my leg myself. Seras said he's too busy with some kind of super drug or something, and I can't find the girls anywhere."

"I'm pretty sure they're avoiding you for now," Tiro admitted. "Or should I say, for once. Say, do you know where Snake and Tycho are? They should have been back from patrol like an hour ago."

As if in response to the question, the front door to HQ burst open, revealing the aforementioned officers as they marched into the building boasting expressions of considerable satisfaction and joy.

Tiro was going to ask what they were so pleased about, but soon a more pressing question was in need of answers. "Tycho? Why are you wearing a pirate hat?"

The driver raised an eyebrow, and idly adjusted the black cap bearing the skull and crossbones on his head. "And what ELSE would I do with a pirate hat?"

Ranma frowned. "Why is it spattered with blood?"

"And what ELSE would happen to a pirate hat as half a dozen monkeys descended on its owner and stabbed him in the face repeatedly?"

"Touche," the martial artist granted.

Snake, meanwhile, had a small bag in his hands that he carried over to Ranma before reaching in and pulling out a somewhat slimy four-point shuriken. "Here! I got you a souvenir to apologize for leaving you on your own when you asked for help. It's a Ninja star! I figured that you might get sick of using real weapons all the time and want to get back to your Ninja roots in flinging around bits of sharpened metal."

A vein popped up on Ranma's head. "I'm NOT a Ninja."

"Well, whatever. It's still cool, right?" Snake asked.

"It's covered in... is that pus? Did you actually remove this after it was used?" Ranma asked, making a disgusted face.

Snake rolled his eyes and then put the shuriken away. "You know what? Fine. Don't take a share of the loot. More for me."

Ranma suddenly snapped his fingers. "Loot! I almost forgot!" Taking out a slightly charred briefcase, the pigtailed man withdrew his kodachi and started prying the locks open.

"Hey, where'd you get that?" asked Tycho, perplexed.

"It was in a safe somebody else blew up," Ranma answered as he forced open the first lock.

Tycho blinked. "Uh... no, I mean, like, where did it come from? It wasn't here a minute ago, but-"

Crack! The second lock gave, and Snake whistled in appreciation as the briefcase opened to reveal stacks of yen notes, American dollars, Chinese yuan, and several credit cards, small electronic devices, and other plastic cards that seemed largely less useful.

"Hey, not a bad find!" the American admitted, reaching in and picking up a passport wrapped in a protective plastic sheath. "Huh. Who the heck is Nabiki Tendo?"

"Someone who doesn't really agitate my conscience enough to care when her stuff is taken," Ranma admitted, "although it could just be that I've been hanging out with you guys for too long."

Tycho glanced between Tiro and Snake. "So... really? Nobody else cares that we just saw a briefcase appear out of thin air."

"Well, we are terrible, terrible people," Tiro admitted in response to Ranma's theory as he leaned over toward Snake to look at the picture. "Ooh! She's kinda hot!"

"Personality of a rattlesnake, though." Ranma warned. "A greedy rattlesnake. A greedy rattlesnake that keeps eating up your money. A greedy, money-scarfing rattlesnake with-"

"ALL RIGHT, we get it. She's not worth it," Tycho said, exasperated. "So what are you gonna do with the money?"

"Well, I figure it can go toward the cost to fix up HQ first," Ranma mused. "After that? Dance party."

"Equitable and fair," Tiro agreed before turning toward Snake. "So where were you guys, anyway?"

"Just at the Battle of the Century, that's all!" Tycho said. "An epic battle between the fiercest creatures from all the corners of the Earth! A conflict to shatter the very fabric of mankind's placid existence!"

Ranma raised an eyebrow. "So who won?"

"Nobody," Snake said, shrugging, "two chicks from Tokyo Metro PD showed up and broke it up before the pirate captain, the Ninja overlord, the zombie tyrant, and the monkey blademaster could get down to business."

"Aw, man, that sucks," Ranma said, imagining the scene in his mind.

"Kinda. The girls were pretty cute, though." Tycho admitted. "I also got their vehicle dispatch number, so we can find their names and information on the database later!"

"I'm pretty sure that crosses the line from 'courting' to 'stalking'," Snake reasoned dryly.

"Heh. Score," Tiro said cheerfully, bumping fists with the driver.

"Terrible, terrible people," Ranma mumbled to himself.

End Chapter 28

Terrorists felled: 8
Mecha scrapped: 1
Maulers mauled: 3
Superweapons fallen into the wrong hands: 2
Pirates hoisted to the great rigging in the sky: 21
Ninja hiding in the shadows in Hell: 18
Monkeys flinging poo in purgatory: 24
Zombies that don't get an afterlife because they were dead to start with but are now more so: 33