Ranma 1/2 Evil Bad Bad Darkfic :
Hiroshi and Daisuke Are Dead
A Spoof Chase Production
(http://adobe.chaco.com/~stefan/spoof)
A Nasty Little Ranma 1/2 FanFic by Stefan "Twoflower" Gagne
(All characters copyright Rumiko-san, obviously. If I ever
even considered claiming that these were my own characters
I'd probably be thrown into a small cell where I'd be forced
to eat my own admittedly snotty attitude to live.)
-=-
WARNING! This is a fanfic which is DARK. It's evil, it's
bad, it's got death and sex and mayhem and chaos and torture and
rape and demons and guns and blood and knives and drugs and fast
cars and hot chicks and cyberpunk icons and lots of cool bad
words your mommy doesn't like you saying and all sorts of
references to Satan. It's so nasty and evil that I'd suggest
folks shy away, lest they be corrupted by the darkness within and
have a twisted soul which listens to Goth music and thinks The
Crow : City of Angels was beautiful. Shy away! Turn back, lest
you be destroyed! Repent! Oh, it's just so awful. You won't
believe your eyes! Isn't sadism neat?
Six points to the first person to realize where I got the
plot structure / title. And now, on with yet another 'Darkfic'.
-=-
The stillness of the forest was an enveloping sphere of
silence, without bounds. It was Gideon's Trumpet, of infinite
area but limited volume; and like the trumpet it made no sounds,
save the repeated ping of fingernail striking coin.
"Heads," Hiroshi said, turning the coin up on his arm. He
proceeded to flip it again.
Daisuke, whose feet were killing him (FORESHADOWING), rested
against a tree. "How many times are you going to flip that
thing?"
"Heads," Hiroshi reported, and flipped again. "Don't you
think it's weird?"
"Yes, I think you really, really need a date. You're
obsessing over a coin collection sum total of one," Daisuke
yawned.
"True, but I mean about this. Heads," he said, catching the
coin. "Heads. Always heads. I'd hazard I've flipped this coin
seventy five times so far, and always heads."
"And it's not a doubleheaded coin?"
"I think I'd have noticed it if it was," Hiroshi suggested.
"Okay, that's weird. But I'm not going to let it worry me,"
Daisuke stated, sitting on the forest floor. "So what're we
doing out here, Hiroshi? Care to fill me in?"
"Me? Heads. I thought you knew."
The boys pondered this for a moment, an ominous bit of
silence hanging in the air in exactly the same way bricks don't.
"Strange and unusual," Daisuke considered. "I can't recall
either. And here you have a coin that only seems to return
heads. This bodes."
"It bodes what? Heads."
"Just a general boding. Like a when you take out a tube of
toothpaste and start to brush and wonder why it tastes bad and
your mom asks where you put the Preparation H," Daisuke
metaphorized. "That sort of sinking feeling."
"Heads. I was thinking along similar lines," Hiroshi
nodded. "A strange situation, where the laws of probability are
turned on ear. And I seem to be talking at a higher
sophistication. Shouldn't we be hanging in the crowd and
harassing our buddy Ranma occasionally?"
"You know as well as I do that the manga and the anime are
over and done with. We're not employed to bug Ranma anymore."
"Funny, that. Heads. But how did we get to this point?"
"It's almost like the universe has been upended on its ear,
with only us sitting here with nothing to do," he theorized. "A
strange state of affairs. One could only assume there is a
purpose."
"This bodes in a manner I really disapprove of," Daisuke
said. "If I didn't know any better I'd hazard we're both headed
into bad times, Daisuke."
"Point taken, Hiroshi. Heads."
The two sat in silence for awhile, considering things.
Neither was particularly smart enough to try to leave wherever
they were (wherever they were), so they pondered and mused and
turned the thought around a few times to the point where they
barely noticed the wagon.
The wagon which had so recently arrived was a patchwork of
wood, iron and cloth. A gypsy caravan would have taken a good
look and turned in their tamborines for wingtips and Armani
suits. It didn't just posess loudness of color, it screamed
bloody murder. (FORESHADOWING)
Hiroshi and Daisuke blinked at it, which is normal for anime
characters in thier situation and with their budget for facial
reactions. The driver, a nondescript college age lad hopped down
from the horse-pilot-seat, bowing.
"And you might be?" Daisuke asked.
"Simply a writer," the writer said. "And I've come this
distance to make you, Hiroshi, and you, Daisuke, an offer."
Hiroshi looked at Daisuke and Daisuke looked at Hiroshi, and
both shrugged in sequence.
The wagon side unfolded, with a brilliant array of costumes.
Masks, capes, leotards, all manners of martial arts gis...
hardsuit armor, large weapons, bikinis armored and not,
longswords, magical staves and various leather goods. Props,
such as slimy tentacle puppets, little alien chestbursters and
battery operated cabbits with razor sharp teeth. And
importantly, players; bit role anime characters, gathered from
various sources, each seeking employment after the end run of
their serieses. All were prepared for... something.
"You see," the writer says, crossing back and forth in front
of the wagon, "I am but a humble amateur writer. I have no money
and little to offer you, I'm afraid... little to offer beyond the
FICTIONAL DRAMA OF YOUR CAREERS!"
With that, he put a Nine Inch Nails record on the turntable,
and the various actors set about in a wild dramatic
interpretation, with loud, plastic guns and partially unclad
women. It was a spectacle. It was disgusting. It was
entertainment. Hiroshi, for one, and Daisuke, for the other,
couldn't keep their eyes away.
"Tales and plots the likes of which you have never known!"
the writer pitched. "New situations. Fresh concepts. American
ways. Your jobs in the east are gone, and the west welcomes you
to our spin on things. Ever wonder what it'd be like to have a
Sailor Senshi get possessed by evil and brainwashed?"
With that, a bit player in a sailor fuku cackled evilly,
prop crews shaking cheap tin sheets to simulate lightning while
other senshi fell over, pretending to be dead.
"It's possible. Anything is. Ever wonder what would happen
if the entire cast of All Purpose Catgirl Nuku Nuku went to
hell?"
A pair of shorter cast members, in a thoroughly unconvincing
ecchi oni costume, operated tentacles on wires to grab a meowing
redhead.
"Trust me. We can make it happen," the writer smiled. The
cast behind him took a bow on cue. "This is the new scene. All
that traditional stuff is boring. The people have spoken and
they want death and madness. It's original, it's exciting and
good employment. So, do we have a deal?"
Hiroshi let this sink through the first three layers, until
comprehension hit. "You want to hire us to be in your... play?
Anime? Movie? Story?"
The writer shrugged. "What's the difference, other than
resources?"
"But... it needn't be so... obscene, does it?"
"It works, don't knock it. You'd have employment for the
rest of your lives, though. Can't even get a deal like that with
Rumiko. Interested?"
Daisuke held up a hand, to pause the proceedings. He pulled
Hiroshi aside for a man to man discussion.
"Hiroshi, I'm relatively sure this is why we are where we
are and such," Daisuke said. "But something seems foreshadowing
about all this."
"It means we'd get to star in a production!" Hiroshi said
excitedly. "A nice, gutsy, 90's thing! No more recycled 80's
music or bit roles. We could be popular! We could be modern!
We could get girls!"
"True, true, and true," Daisuke considered. "I'm still
worried, though. Setback. How to proceed?"
"How about this, we flip a coin," Hiroshi said. "Call it."
"Tails."
Hiroshi caught the coin, and turned it on his arm...
*
To fair Nerima, where we lay our scene, two boys alike in
not being very dignified at all looked around.
They were no longer in a forest of unknown name but a dojo
with a name all too familiar; the Tendo Dojo.
"Hiroshi, what did the coin say?" Daisuke asked.
"Tails," Hiroshi said. "Incredible luck, I'd hazard."
"At least we're back to home as we know it!" Daisuke said
cheerfully. "And at last, we're in the lead. So, where to now?"
"I'm not quite sure," Hiroshi said, looking about. "I
suppose whatever is to come will come to us."
As if on cue (which it was), a procession led by Genma
Saotome and Soun Tendo marched into the dojo, making a beeline
for the protagonists. Behind them came the wyrd Tendo sisters,
and behind that, the three proclaimed fiancees : Shampoo, Ukyou
and even Kodachi.
"Boys, boys!" Genma laughed heartily, greeting Hiroshi and
Daisuke with a big manly hug that almost crushed their rib cages.
(FORESHADOWING) "We're quite glad you could come when we called.
It's about Ranma."
"Erm, Ranma?" Hiroshi asked, forcing air back into his
lungs.
"Yes, the boy's been quite odd lately," Soun nodded. "Very
much keeping to himself, very... unsettling. But you're his
friends! We're sure he'll explain what's on his mind to you.
Right?"
"Well, of course!" Daisuke affirmed. "Nobody's more
friendly with Ranma than us, his friends."
"Excellent! Well, Hiroshi and... you whose name escapes me
at the moment," Genma ^_^'d. "I'll just leave the task in all
four of your capable hands. Off we go, Tendo! A celebration on
the town in premature thanks to the curing of my boy's madness!"
With that, the gathering trotted right out the door, leaving
the boys behind to ponder their fates.
"Madness?" Hiroshi at last said, after a period of dead air.
"I don't like the sound of that," Daisuke nodded. "How does
one go about curing madness? I'm no doctor."
"You put too much importance on that word, madness," Hiroshi
said. "After all, this IS Ranma. He may freak out at times, but
he certainly doesn't go mad. I'm sure it's nothing terrible."
*
"The world is a hideously terrible place," Ranma wrote in
his dogeared libary, hands and face still smeared black with the
paint he slapped on his walls to cheer up. "I feel myself
growing distant more and more by the days. I can feel something
growing inside my chest, like a plague, or some filthy,
detestible monster trying to claw its way out... and I feel so
tempted to just let it out to slaughter the sheep that crawl on
their loathsome--"
"Hey ho!" Hiroshi waved, after pushing the door open past
the stack of Lovecraft books Ranma had stacked in front of it.
"Ah, Hiroshi," Ranma said, putting the blood-loaded pen
aside and smiling in a way much like a cobra before you feed it a
hampster would. "Haven't seen you in awhile. Ah, Daisuke as
well! How do you do? NO! GO AWAY, HORACE! I'M BUSY! I'm
quite well, myself."
"Erm," Daisuke greeted. "Hello."
"I was just thinking about you two, actually, and what color
your liver is," Ranma smiled. "And when I sacrifice the goat to
my dark master, I can ask him."
"Wow, he really is insane," Hiroshi commented.
"I'm not insane!" Ranma protested. "I'm sane. Everybody
else is INsane and trying to steal my magic bag."
"Ah," Daisuke smiled. "That's... interesting. Excuse me."
Daisuke grabbed Hiroshi's arm, and dragged him out into the
hall while Ranma crouched down and started making chicken
clucking noises.
"This is bad," Daisuke stated.
"No shit, sherlock."
"HEY! You can't say that word! It's in your contract."
Hiroshi blinked, and covered his mouth. "That's bizarre.
It just seemed the best thing to say at the time."
"What's happened to Ranma?" Daisuke asked. "Surely there's
a good explanation for this... shift in his behaivor. Perhaps
therein lies the point of the story. We uncover the reason for
the madness, we cure Ranma of his delusions and we all walk away
happier and wiser."
"It's very dramatic," Hiroshi nodded. "Very well. We can
start with that. RANMA!"
Ranma looked up from his blood finger painting. "Hai?"
"Why are you insane?" Hiroshi asked.
"Why not?" Ranma shrugged. Then he shrieked, clawed at his
eyes, slammed the door and proceeded to make cooing noises for
several hours.
*
"Well, that was unproductive," Daisuke muttered, walking
along a Neriman street next to Hiroshi, kicking any stray rocks
in his way.
"I should have known better than to ask the insane person
why he's insane," Hiroshi said. "That's just not how these
things get done in the movies."
"What's the proper way of doing it, then?"
"It's a simple process of finding out clues, which lead up
to the realization of the mystery and the punishment of those
responsible," Hiroshi said. "Tried and true formula. Daisuke,
who's the girl standing on the street corner wearing body paint?"
"I'm fairly sure that's clothing, Daisuke," Daisuke said.
"And judging by the hair, I'd hazard it's Nabiki."
Nabiki waved to a car passing by, shouting to it. "Hey,
hunky! Want some action? I'm up for a party!!... fuck."
Daisuke looked to Hiroshi who looked to Daisuke looking to
Hiroshi, and both shrugged before approaching Nabiki.
"What in blazes are you doing?" Hiroshi opened with.
"It's simple, I'm selling my body to get money for my drug
habit," Nabiki said. "Any fantasy realized, high pain
threshhold."
Daisuke looked around. "It's not night yet. I thought that
sort of thing had a specific time window."
"Can't stay out past my bedtime."
"Ah. That makes sense. I suppose."
"Any progress on finding out why Ranma went crazier than a
shithouse rat?" Nabiki asked, adjusting her skintight neon orange
tubetop with matching earrings.
"We're following some leads," Hiroshi said. "Do you have
any ideas?"
"One thousand yen."
"I don't have that much."
"Then I don't have any info for you. Fuck off, I'm busy.
HEY, HOMEY! COME GET SOME TEENAGE TAIL, HUH? Bleah. I swear,
this town is too straight."
Daisuke adjusted his collar, not entirely comfortable with
the situation at hand. "Look, do you really have information or
not?"
"Maybe, maybe I don't," Nabiki said.
"How about if I flip this coin, and if I win the coin toss,
you tell me what you know?" Hiroshi said, spark of intelligence
fizzling off the bug zapper of his mind.
Nabiki considered. "A gamble. I'm a gambling addict.
Let's do it."
Hiroshi pulled his coin out of his pocket, and flipped it.
"Heads you tell."
Nabiki caught the coin, and slapped it to the nubile young
flesh of her arm. Her eyes widened at the outcome.
"Well?" Daisuke asked. "What's it say?"
"It says it's one of the rare limited edition 1967 G-series
run yen coins! The ones with exactly .0001 mg less copper than
others!" Nabiki said. "Hell yeah, I'll give you information!
I'll even sleep with you two for this coin!"
"Uh, that's not ENTIRELY nessecary," Daisuke said, letting
more steam out of his collar. "But any information would be
apprec--"
Nabiki grabbed the boys each by an arm, with surprisingly
Herculean (or Xenan) strength. "C'mon, let's get up to my
budoir."
*
Nabiki tossed both boys onto the ramshackle bed in her
ramshackle combination brothel and crackhouse, space rented about
Dr. Tofu's infamous clinic / coke lab.
"You two wait there, I'll just be a second getting ready,"
Nabiki said, walking into the roach infested bathroom.
"Oooeeeer," Daisuke said coherently.
"Well... she might know something," Hiroshi said.
"She might know sixteen thousand ways to pleasure us, you
mean," Daisuke said. "I feel oddly discomforted by that.
Something's wrong. Can you tell?"
"What was your first clue, Nabiki's prostitution or the drug
war going on outside?" Hiroshi said, as a few stray bullets
ripped through the far wall to break windows on the other side.
"Actually, I was thinking of the coin. What're the chances
that it'd be a rare limited print, thus giving us enough money to
partake in a three way orgy with Nabiki Tendo?"
"Quite slim, I'd hazard."
"Exactly. Something's up. I feel cosmic forces aligning
against us in this mission," Daisuke said, getting up from the
bed. "I really think we need to--"
"Okay, boys," Nabiki said, wandering out in the alls, having
doffed the latex items she was wearing before in favor of letting
her size 36D breasts and trimmed lower region shine through.
"Who wants to be on top of the sandwich and who on the bottom?"
Daisuke's nose exploded in a gyser of blood and phlegm.
Hiroshi was lucky and just fainted.
Nabiki approached the pair, smiling, undoing Hiroshi's
pants. She ripped the underwear off, and started to massage some
life back into his important bit using only her ches
shi was first to awaken, and thus first to scream in surprise of
not wearing any clothes.
He felt dehydrated, and oddly sticky. Not only that but he
was entangled with a mass of limbs and body parts, which upset
him until he realized it was just because he was naked in bed
with Nabiki and Daisuke, which upset him less but not by much.
"Daisuke! DAISUKE!" Hiroshi said, nudging his friend awake.
Daisuke stirred like coffee, waking in an instant. "Whaa?"
"I think we just did something, only for the life of me I
can't recall what it was or how often or how many times I
screamed out in pleasure," Hiroshi said, trying to cover up.
"That goes double for me," Daisuke said, still trying to
stop what now was a minor nosebleed. "Did we...?"
"Let's ask Nabiki," Hiroshi said, prodding Nabiki's body a
little.
Nabiki didn't move.
"I have another one of those Preparation H feelings again,"
Daisuke said.
"I have a feeling Nabiki's dead," Hiroshi said. "Notice how
she's really pale, not breathing and is staring at the ceiling.
And smiling in kind of a weird way."
Daisuke sprang from the bed like a coiled spring, taking
part of the sheet with him. "WHAT?! How did that happen?!"
"I guess we were too much for her to take?"
"That's not funny!"
Hiroshi picked up a large, comically obvious syringe loaded
with a glowing blue formula. "This might be the culprit.
Someone must have sneaked in here after we finished with whatever
it was I really, really wish I could remember so I could at least
say I had enjoyed it and poisoned Nabiki with this needle!"
"Who would do such a thing?!"
The door came down, hinges tearing in a sound of twisted,
rusty metal bending and snapping. Doctor Tofu, in his slicked
back hair and pimp's outfit, stormed in, waving a 9mm handgun.
"You punks! You killed my best bitch! SHINE!!"
"Shine?" Hiroshi asked, scratching his head.
"He means 'Die,'" Daisuke said, while diving for cover as
the bullets whizzed over his head. Hiroshi was fortunate enough
to fall forward, crashing into Doctor Tofu and not get shot to
death in the process -- the two of them went tumbling out of the
room and down the spiral staircase, into Tofu's clinic.
Daisuke scrambled down the stairs, yanking his pants on and
pocketing the coin he had found on Nabiki's nightstand, only to
find Hiroshi @.@ at the bottom of the stairs with a X.X Tofu.
"Hiroshi! Hiroshi! Are you okay? Hey, you're still
naked."
"I'm aware," Hiroshi said, rubbing his head. "Itai."
"Italy?"
"I mean OW. Get my pants. And call 911, I think the doctor
broke his neck."
"You killed Doctor Tofuu?!"
"It were an accident, I swear!"
"This is nuts," Daisuke said, holding the stair railing for
support as his knees buckled like a cheap leather belt. "I'm
leaving."
With that, he ran from the drug clinic, avoiding the gunfire
of the Crips outside. Hiroshi joined him after fetching his
clothes from upstairs.
Neither of them noticed the figure in the red chinese shirt,
running across the rooftops under cover of darkness.
*
"Let's take inventory," Daisuke said, keeping a brisk, if
not madcap pace along the street, Hiroshi jogging to keep up.
"We just both had sex with Nabiki Tendo at the same time, then
you killed Doctor Tofuu."
"At least you got my coin back," Hiroshi said, flipping it.
"Odd. Tails."
"Can you FORGET about the coin? Something very odd is going
on!"
"You keep saying that," Hiroshi commented. "You keeping
saying 'this is weird' or 'something odd is going on', and I keep
saying 'what was your first clue', and whatnot. Can we please
acknowledge that yes, all of what's transpired is weird, and
likely all to come, and move on?"
"All to come? What else could POSSIBLY go wrong?"
Thunder tore across the skyline like the jagged dagger of
hell, shredding the peace of the city and plunging wave after
wave of a pulsating blast of noise into the heart of terror. The
seas boiled and the skies burned; an omen of darkness was cast
upon the land, an all entrenching evil that soaks men to their
souls and taints even the purest of bones. A horrid disease, a
pestilence, a plauge of madness! Satan's dark delight surfacing
in the bubbling light of the Unthinkable! A storm of epic
proportions, heralding the age of chaos and the times of pain and
misery!
"I really wish you hadn't said that," Hiroshi meekly said.
"Isn't that Ranma, running across the rooftops?" Daisuke
asked, pointing at something other than the foreshadowing.
"What? Why, it is! After him!" Hiroshi said, charging down
the sidewalks of madness in hot pursuit.
The dark figure of Ranma, laughing the laugh of the truly
mad, hopped and leaped from rooftop to rooftop entirely unlike
the Tick. He finally landed on the roof of one structure, and
ducked down, disappearing.
"He must have gotten into the roof somehow," Hiroshi said.
"Inside! Inside, we must follow!"
"Isn't this Ucchan's?" Daisuke asked, noting the curtains on
his way into the darkened, closed down restaurant.
"You're right, it is," Hiroshi said, skidding to a halt.
"Why would Ranma not use the front door, however?"
"Well, he IS mad."
"Point, point. How should we proceed?"
"We go up," Daisuke suggested. "It's where he is, after
all."
So they went up, and found little of consequence.
"Let's try down," Hiroshi had the genius of suggesting. So
the two descended into the cellar of Ucchan's, which for no
explained reason lurked like a shadow at the bottom of a
spiraling staircase of steps. The boys, wheezing from the
effort, came to a halt in front of a large oaken door.
"If he's in the building, this is the only place he could
be," Hiroshi said. "In we go."
"Waaait," Daisuke said, putting a hand to stop Hiroshi from
grasping the long hard handle and pulling. "Before you do that,
we should be asking ourselves : What could be in there, and do we
really want to see it?"
"Eh? It's a cellar. Probably has wine and storage jars and
such, right?"
"Tonight, Daisuke my friend, I take nothing for granted."
"Well then, we flip a coin. Tails," Hiroshi said, flipping.
"Tails it is, in we go."
With that, they opened the door.
Inside was musty. Musty and somewhat musky.
(FORESHADOWING) The stonework was aunchient, with torches in
place to cast evil shadows upon the walls, and upon the odd
wooden and iron structures; frames shaped like X's, racks, odd
suspension beams, and the large vaulting horse Tsubasa was
chained to currently, rear end jutting out obscenely.
Ukyou, wearing only studded leather straps and toting a
large spatula she was beating on Tsubasa's ass with, looked at
Hiroshi and Daisuke oddly. "Do you two mind? I'm busy
disciplining my slave."
"You just HAD to wonder what else could possibly go wrong,
didn't you?" Hiroshi asked. "I thank you. Truly."
"Don't mind us, we were just looking for the men's room.
Cheerio," Daisuke waved, bolting for the door.
A large spatula blocked his way.
"Looks like the spatula just caught a couple flies," Ukyou
smiled. The smile was not pretty.
*
"Now, what was that again?" Ukyou asked, approaching Daisuke
with the lit candle.
"I am your humble lap dog, Mistress Ukyou-sama!" Daisuke
repeated from repetitive instruction.
"Now, that's better," Ukyou said, setting the candle down
and picking up her spiked spatula again.
Hiroshi, who was hanging naked, upside down in shackles,
just looked annoyed. "You HAD TO WONDER, didn't you, Daisuke?
You just couldn't resist. This is all your fault."
"MINE?! You opened the door!" Daisuke screamed. "Baka!
Baka baka baka baka!"
"Boys, boys! You're not being good little slaves!" Ukyou
said. "I'm afraid it's time for another turn in The Fleshpulling
Machine."
"Oh, bugger, not again," Hiroshi sighed.
Almost in an instant, Ukyou's chest exploded outward in a
shower of blood, as a spatula was rammed through it from behind.
A gyser of bile, blood and vomit spurted out her mouth, like a
fountain, as she collapsed into a twitching, bleeding mass on the
ground. Her assailant skipped backwards into the shadows, before
he could be identified.
Daisuke just stared, wide eyed, as his former tormentor
stayed quite dead. The spatula had even cut the straps on her
outfit, letting her size 36D breasts hang free.
"Now there's something you don't see every day," Hiroshi
managed to say.
*
"I'm not saying Ranma did it," Hiroshi explained, as the two
resumed their nighttime search for clues in and around Nerima.
"I'm just saying there may be a connection."
"Between Nabiki and Ukyou's deaths? Not to mention that
Tsubasa was carved open rectum to sternum. It'd take a real
madman to--"
"Exactly!" Hiroshi beamed. "See, this is the sort of thing
that happens in the movies. If he WASN'T involved, then we
wouldn't have seen him sneaking in. Sneaking in means he's a
suspect and it's usually the one who's quite raving mad that did
it."
"So if we catch Ranma, we win?"
"Well, it's a theory, at least."
"Where could he have gone, then? I've been checking the
roofs, before you ask."
"What would be the next logical victim for his murder
spree?" Hiroshi asked. "Think. If *I* was a psychotic maniac,
what would I do next?"
"I'd like to get something to eat, personally. Domination
and subordination really takes a lot out of you."
"Madmen don't eat, baka. They just starve for the art of
their murders."
"Where'd you hear a silly thing like that?"
"60 Minutes."
"Ah."
The boys pondered, train of thought temporarily derailed.
"I want food anyway," Daisuke concluded. "How about we go
to Nekohanten?"
*
"Nekohanten has changed," Daisuke said, stating the obvious.
The entire building had been replaced by a black, obsidian
like obelisk that towered over all other buildings in Tokyo, the
green light of a thousand tortured souls swirling about its peak.
Dark auras flickered and pulsated behind the rock, or inside the
rock, or seemed to be WITHIN the rock; mind you, the beckoning
cat statue was more or less the same.
"This IS Nekohanten, right?" Hiroshi asked.
"It's the same cat statue. And the sign is the same. But,
for some reason, I feel a lot less hungry now."
"Hold it... of course!" Hiroshi said, smacking a fist into
his palm. "The next logical victim! Shampoo! Ranma must be
lashing out at the women who've tormented him."
"Who're you, Freud?"
"No, I'm Daisuke. I thought you knew that."
"I thought I was Daisuke."
"You're Hiroshi. I'm Daisuke."
"Oh, right," Hiroshi nodded. "Anyway, odds are Ranma will
strike here next. It's our duty to go on inside and give Shampoo
a warning. Wouldn't be socially responsible not to."
"Fair enough," Daisuke nodded. "But let's do it as quickly
as possible, okay? Just in and out. (FORESHADOWING)"
"Correct," Hiroshi nodded, pushing on the blackrock gate, as
flames roared over their heads through the inrushing air. He
patted out a small fire in his head and proceeded with Daisuke
down the 666 steps, into Nekohanten.
Nekohanten had changed. There was a lot more brimstone, and
flesh hanging off the walls on rusted hooks. The chairs had
spikes on them, and most were occupied by a variety of tentacled
monsters; each using approximately 12.3 chopsticks to eat bowls
of evil glowing red ramen. Various naked people, emaciated from
starvation, hung in cages at each corner of the cavern of sin, to
watch the demons eat up.
"Now I've seen everything," Daisuke cliched. "Let's find
Shampoo and leave."
"I must say, this is a rather classical interpretation of
things," Hiroshi said. "I was expecting hell to be, well, more
modern. Sort of like New York City."
"Come on, it's never like that in anime."
"True, but... well, I won't complain. We have a mission to
do! Shampoo-chan! Are you here?"
Shampoo stalked around from the kitchen curtain, eyes
glowing red like the eternal fires of damnation, light glinting
off her fangs. "What stupid mortals want? Shampoo very busy
today cooking ramen."
"Are those plastic?" Hiroshi asked, poking the fangs
curiously.
Daisuke yanked Hiroshi back, glaring at him, and turned to
Shampoo. "We have reason to believe Ranma has killed two people
so far, including Ukyou, and he's headed here next. Erm. Just
letting you know and all."
"Really? Aiya!" Shampoo cheered, hopping up and down cutely
and thus losing whatever intimidation factor her new undead look
gave her. "Shampoo so happy! Groom finally agree to slaughter
fiancees and marry Shampoo like Shampoo tell him to do in
nightmares! Now ai len and Shampoo get married!"
Daisuke backed off slowly. "This was YOUR idea for him to
do this?!"
Shampoo nodnodded. n.n "Shampoo smart girl! Ever since
killing great grandmother and drinking blood she get such neat
ideas. And now she marry! Shampoo go tell dark lord and master
such good news!"
"I want to leave now," Daisuke prodded.
"Wait, wait," Hiroshi said. "So, you somehow enslaved
Ranma's mind in some dark spell, whispering poison in his ear and
driving him to madness, so you could use him as a tool in the
butchering of Ukyou, Akane and Kodachi, and have him as your own
pagan love slave! Wow, that makes sense! I do believe we've won
the story, Daisuke."
"Why would he kill Nabiki, then?" Hiroshi wondered.
"Ano, are you a god?" Shampoo asked.
"Well... no," Hiroshi replied.
Shampoo smiled.
*
"I'm beginning to suspect I should be investigating without
you," Daisuke grumbled, trying to break free from the chains
holding him down, naked, to the sacrifical altar.
"Oh, shut up. What was I supposed to do, lie? How do you
expect me to back up a claim like that?" Hiroshi retorted, trying
not to worry about the wall of spikes and ritual knives rotating
inward to skewer him.
"Hiroshi, when someone asks you if you are a god, you say
YES!" Daisuke yelled. "Now we're going to be dog chow for
yammering beasts from beyond space and time, and it's all your
fault."
"I hope they didn't destroy my pants. I had my lucky coin
in there."
"CTHULU! CTHULU! IY! IY!" Shampoo chanted, waving around
a big curvy jewel encrusted evil looking dagger as she danced
naked in a raging fire, whirling a duck wearing glasses over her
head on a black obsidian chain.
"Hey, if we get sacrificed, do we still get paid?" Hiroshi
wondered.
The cavern rumbled, the cavern rocked. And down the stairs
came a flood of water, surging in a wave of purity over the room.
Demons screamed and wailed, some exploding, some simply melting
as the holy water consumed the darkness within; Hiroshi and
Daisuke in particular felt nothing odd than wet, but when the
wave had passed, nothing was left in the cavern but them, their
clothes, and a small stain of artifical purple hair dye. A
figure in a red chinese shirt darted back upstairs, dropping the
hose he was carrying.
"You really worry too much," Hiroshi said, pulling on his
pants. "See? Odds are Ranma got a high pressure hose, filled it
with holy water and saved us."
"Which makes no sense at all," Daisuke said, tying his
shoes. "I was under the impression he was Shampoo's dark slave.
Why in blazes would he destroy her?"
"Ah ah, Shampoo never AFFIRMED my theory," Hiroshi said.
"We're obviously dealing with a plot of dark underpinnings, the
mechanisms of which are not immedately obvious. Wheels within
wheels."
"So where to next, Einstein? I would really love getting
this story over with."
"I can see two logical possibilites. Kodachi, and Akane."
"Whoa. Time out. NO FREAKING WAY am I going to Kodachi's
place!" Daisuke babbled. "If Shampoo's a demon and Ukyou's a
sadist, and Kodachi was both to begin with, who knows what she's
like now?!"
"Two choices. Let's flip for it."
*
"More tea?" Kodachi asked.
"Yes, please!" Hiroshi smiled.
Daisuke grumped. Once again, he had lost to tails and the
pair had gone to Kodachi's place, which was now a 50 story tower
scraping the skies of Tokyo, bearing the KUNOM logo in blazing
neon letters. After talking to the front desk, they arranged a
meeting with Kodachi; only after being strip searched with full
cavity checks, naturally.
"You really don't need to worry, boys," Kodachi smiled.
"The security here at KUNOM is quite good, what with the cyborg
models we produce. We don't want any terrorist groups getting
them, so we keep anybody suspicious out. And this killer, you
say...?"
"We think it's Ranma," Hiroshi said. "He's quite insane."
"That's too bad. Once my company invented the Mental
Stabilizer, I managed to cure my psychological problems," Kodachi
said. "It's a real boon for the industry. Only affordable to
the very rich, naturally. But back on topic. If my guards see
Ranma, they'll just shoot him down like a dog. No problems."
"Shoot Ranma? I thought you--"
"Ah, Kotchy-sama," Tatewaki Kunou said, wandering in with a
full tennis outfit and racket. "Practice was good today. I do
believe we'll be able to outplay that Gates swine at our next
match."
"Excellent, Tatchy-sama!" Kodachi smiled, hopping up to kiss
him full on the lips. "Last night you were incredible. We must
pleasure each other again to... why are you choking, Daisuke-san?
Is the tea bad?"
"I'm sorry, my friend is just allergic to unusual
situations," Hiroshi said, slapping Daisuke on the back
repeatedly.
"Anyway, would you and your friend like to see our security
measures?" Kodachi asked, disentangling herself from Kunou, who
headed for the showers.
"Oh, I'd love that," Hiroshi ^_^'d.
*
Kodachi navigated the module towards the matrix hub, through
waves of silicon data and pure information.
Daisuke finished vomiting over the side of the transport
program, and returned to his virtual seat, looking queasy.
"Daisuke-san seems to have a bit of motion sickness,"
Kodachi said. "Would you like something to help that?"
"Please do," Daisuke nodded. "I feel like a... like
something very bad indeed."
"Fortunately, KUNOM is a leading manufacturer of virtual
drugs, both pharmaceutical and recreational," Kodachi said,
putting the autopilot on SECURITY NEXUS and opening a cylindrical
object from thin air, twisting and matching the colors into a
combinatory pattern. "Hold still, please."
Daisuke's mind shifted in bitwise directions, as the program
took hold and redirected his nausea to /dev/null. He blinked
repeatedly, as suddenly he felt quite good.
"I must say, this is an impressive cyberspace," Hiroshi
said.
"Please, Hiroshi-san. We at KUNEM prefer the term
'Information Superhighway'," Kodachi smiled. "We--"
ALERT ALERT ALERT INVADING PRESENCE IN SUBMATRIX TWELVE OF
THE NEURAL NETWORK ABORT EJECT EJECT EJECT
"wHAT'S GOING ON?" hIROSHI ASKED, CONFUSED
ader in the system," Kodachi replied. "We're experiencing a
system crash... can't jack ou
Daisuke thirsted for the taste of
blue, the bile forming in his
throat as his lips parted the
mortal coil and shifted through the
geometric plains of the agony and
the exctacy, screaming a wordless
scream as his mind slided down the
landscape of insanity and into
(the figure, crouching in digital glory, pouncing,
cutting, so much blood, so much death]
The stillness of the forest
Hiroshi clutching at his seat as the figure in a chinese shirt
and pigtail raised Kodachi up, carving her vertically into three
slices, data, icons, organs, all manners of things flooding out
as her screams peirced the very fabric of reality
until
there
was
black.
Daisuke screamed, pulling the electrodes from his head and
falling out of the computer access chair. Hiroshi did likewise.
Kodachi's pale, misshapen form stayed put; braindead, muscles
contorted into a horrible position by misfired neurons, dead to
all.
"Why can't these people just use Macintoshes like all sane
people?!" Daisuke yelled. "Hiroshi, we are LEAVING. Now."
"For once I wholeheartedly concur, Daisuke," Hiroshi nodded,
as the two ran through the chaotic halls of KUNOM, insane
security guards spraying people wildly with bullets, carnage
flying around H and D's heads like so many paper airplanes.
*
The two didn't stop running until they had reached the Tendo
Dojo. Dawn broke over the horizon like a spine snapping.
"Ranma's doing this, I just know it," Hiroshi said. "I'm
totally convinced of this. We need to confront him."
"With what?" Daisuke asked. "He's so far managed to
annihilate several of the locals, and using skills I KNOW you and
I lack. We're not even armed."
Hiroshi looked across the street, where a conveniently
located gun shop had just been installed. "How much money do you
have?" He asked.
*
Armed to the teeth, packing enough weapons to lose balance
if it wasn't for the huge army boots both now wore, Hiroshi and
Daisuke nudged open the door to the Tendo Dojo. It was already
ajar.
"So we go in, we kill Ranma, and we're the heroes of the day
and win, right?" Daisuke asked.
"That about sums it up," Hiroshi nodded. "Keep your eyes
peeled. He's likely to have a trap or an ambush or something."
The two creeped through the silent house. There was food on
the stove, but no Kasumi. The television was on without a
watcher. It was almost like someone had taken the house and
turned it upside down to shake out the residents, except that no
furniture was out of place.
"If I was the villian, I'd be hiding in the attic or in the
basement," Hiroshi said.
"Which one do we check first?" Daisuke asked. "And don't
flip your--"
"Tails, we go up," Hiroshi said, pocketing the coin.
"Fine, YOU go up," Daisuke replied. "I'm going down. Let's
split up and look."
"Yes, he can hunt us down and kill us easier that way,"
Hiroshi nodded, creeping upstairs.
Daisuke considered this for less than a moment before
following Hiroshi upstairs.
*
It took a few good whacks with the butt of a gun (and some
yelps as Daisuke dodged an accidental misfiring) before the hatch
to the attic cracked open, dust thick in the air as thieves.
Hiroshi's torso entered the darkened attic, no furnture
visible. No windows. No people. Just darkness, black as
midnight and as impenetrable as airline food.
"Pass me up a flashlight," Hiroshi said. Daisuke did.
Which is bad, because what Hiroshi managed to see up there, he
wished he hadn't.
There was Genma, his lungs pulled out through his rear.
Soun had his arms torn off, blood dripping down onto the pile of
bodies that included Azusa and Mikado (slashes across the throat
made with ice skates), Ryouga, who had his head crushed by an
umbrella, Happosai -- strangled with a bra, Kunou, still naked
from the shower and now bearing bullet holes, Gosunkugi with a
voodoo doll nailed to his face, Akari with gore wounds caused by
a wild boar. Even Nodoka, Pansuto Taro, the Jusenkyo Guide, Pink
and Link, the Niku-men, Herb, Toma, Kirin and that orange fish
thing from Urusei Yatsura were in the pile of dead bodies.
And sitting atop the pile was Ranma saotome, face contorted
into a sick smile, sitting beside himself. Literally, with his
severed head in his lap.
Hiroshi was mildly unsettled.
Then the SWAT team showed up, and arrested the pair of them
for being serial murder suspects since everywhere they went
tonight dead bodies were left, and they were caught redhanded
coming out of the attic with tons of weapons.
*
"And that's the way it is," the writer said, strapping
Hiroshi and Daisuke into the electric chairs the judge sentenced
them to. "Deaths of tyrants, deaths of madmen, deaths of
heroes... and deaths of bakas."
"It goes to show," Daisuke grumbled. "Whatever. I'm sick
of it by this point. If I'm going to die, then let's get it over
with. I'm not happy."
"This is the 90's," the writer noted. "You're not supposed
to be happy."
"Well... I just don't think it's fair," Hiroshi said. "We
never even found out who did it. All that happened was a lot of
people dying in horrible ways. There wasn't any JUSTICE!"
"There is no justice," the writer smiled. "Just me." He
nodded to Akane, resplended in her chinese shirt and pigtail, who
pulled the lever and electrocuted Hiroshi and Daisuke.
Once they were officially dead, the wagon packed up its
props, the actors hid away, and the horses trotted off into the
forest, headed towards the next story.
They left Hiroshi's doubleheaded coin behind.
College Park, Maryland
November 10th, 1996