Here it is, catz and kittens--the official beta of "Ranma
1/2--Abort, Retry, Escape pt. 1." This thing was 95% written by my friend
Kenny Blackwell and 5% written by me, and 100% typed into a text file by
"Captian" Kirk Reeves, a friend of ours who types faster then me. The
initial scenario came from yours truly, as well. I'd also like to take this
opportunity to thank
Adrian Wong, Susan Doenime and Mike Loader for letting me incorporate
scenes from their fanfics "Darkness and Light" and "Ill Met By Starlight"
(respectively) into this.
I'm resending it to you as an e-mail because trying to send it as an
attachment apparently didn't work for some reason. C+C please, everyone.
And now, on to the madness at hand. . .
BLACKWELL INTERNATIONAL
Presents a
JUGURTHA PRODUCTION
of an
ANARCHO-TARDIS FILM:
RANMA 1/2--ABORT, RETRY, ESCAPE
by Paul Herring and Kenny Blackwell
------------------------------------------------------------------
Ranma 1/2 is & 1997 Rumiko Takahashi/Shogakukan, Inc. Used
without permission; this fanfic is NOT intended to be resold or
used for profit in any way, shape or form. The Clan Justice, The
Tribunal, The Threat, and The Chronomancers are & 1997 Kenny
Blackwell. Any other characters are & their respective owners.
------------------------------------------------------------------
"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."
--Proverbs
"D'oh!"
--Homer Simpson
THEN:
"This certifies that Saotome Genma has completed a course of study
required to graduate from Takahashi Central High School, and is thus
hereby awarded this diploma on this day, the 28th of April, 1975. . ."
Saotome Genma felt himself swell with pride as he read the words on
the sheet of parchment he held in his hands. Rolling the paper back up, he
returned it to his schoolbag.
<I'm finally free,> he thought to himself as he walked along the
avenue during the bright, sunny day. <No more tests, no more studying, and
it'll be great to get out of this school uniform and into some normal
cloths. . .oh, yeah. I'll be meeting Tendo today, too. Can't forget that.
For quite some time now, Genma and his friend, Tendo Soun, had been
discussing the rather promising idea of marrying their families together
through their children, thus carrying on the Tendo training hall. . .
provided that one family has a son and the other a daughter, of course.
<If both families end up having both sons or daughters, then Soun and
I'll have a problem,> Genma realized. <Well, hopefully it won't come to
that.> He ran a finger around his starched collar, then unbuttoned the top
two buttons. <First, I'll get out of this monkey suit, and then I'll go
meet Tendo.>
Genma stopped to stare up into the clear sky, seeing a small flock of
sparrows fly by.
<This will be the first day in both the Tendo's and Saotome's joint
histories,> he beamed.
A clearing in a nearby park grew unusually calm; even the birds
stopped chirping due to the disturbance.
Suddenly, time and space began to bend, the very surroundings of the
clearing warping and melting under unnatural forces before morphing into
a human-sized bubble. Otherdimensional energies crackled about the anomoly
as a humanoid female sillouette appeared inside.
The bubble popped all of a sudden, revealing a physically young woman
clad all in rather skimpy black leather with an equally black duster added.
With long maroon hair and tan eyes, the woman was quite attractive. A
squirrel crawled down a tree, cautiously looking at the newcomer. Noticing
the small rodent, the woman got down to her knees.
"Hullo, little one," she said in British-accented English. "It's
all right,
I won't hurt you. Come on." A nice-sized walnut flashed into existance in her
hand.
The squirrel sensed it immediately, sniffing it's distinct aroma.
"It's all
right," the woman said kindly. "Come here and take it. It's O.K."
A little apprehensive, the squirrel hopped towards the woman, attracted
by the wallnut. As it got close enough, the squirrel took the walnut from
woman's hand, proceeding to work it's way into the shell.
"There you go," said the woman reassuringly. She began stroking the
squirrel's back lovingly, smiling warmly. Abruptly, her smile faded. She
looked upwards, sensing somehting in the air.
<It's time,> she realized.
The woman stood up, causing the squirrel to bolt away with the walnut in
it's mouth. Turning around, she looked down towards the ground. The seemingly
hard earth began to ripple like a lake agitated by a light breeze.
<All right then,> she though. <Let's do it.>
The woman took a small hop into the rippling earth, warping the fabric
of time as she was enveloped by the splashing ground.
Within seconds, the earth solidified, reverting to normal; the only
indecation that the maroon-haired, tan-eyed woman ever existed was the
walnut that she gave to the squirrel that she'd befrended moments ago.
". . .And here we have the giant panda, indigneus to Tibet and
China. . ."
the zoo guide explained to a group of tourists.
Genma, dressed in more conventional clothing, was slightly apart
from the
group, observing the Panda as it gnawed on some bamboo shoots, paying the
tourists no mind.
<My whole life is ahead of me,> he thought. <Soun spoke of a Master
Happosai. . .maybe he and I should seek him out after we finalize our pact.
After all, it couldn't hurt to further our training.> Genma glanced at his
watch. <Hmmm. . .about time to take off and meet him,> he realized.
As the tourist group left sight of the Panda cage, Genma got closer
to the bear-like animal. Suddenly something smacked into him, causing him to
stumble and fall on his side.
"Itaiii. . ." said a woman's voice.
Genma turned to see a young lady sprawled in the ground, clad in black
leather, albeit a bit skimpy in some places. She had long maroon hair, and
as she sat up and looked at him, Genma could see that she had tan irises.
<Kawaii. . .> thought Genma.
He stood. "Are you O.K.?"
"Hm? Oh, yes." The woman spoke British-accented Japanese as she rubbed
her head. "I'm so terribly sorry, it's all my fault. I guess I'm just clumsy!"
"Nonsense!" Genma retorted. "It was entirely my fault. . .I
shouldn't have
standing in your way to begin with." Genma held out his hand toward the
maroon-haired woman.
"At least let me help you up."
"Oh, that's so kind of you! Arigato!"
She took hold of his hand--
<FLASH>
"--Very tragic story of girl who drown in spring--"
"--Our son will be a manly man, Genma, or all our lives are forefit--"
"...because of you, Ranma, I've seen Hell!"
"--that rich guy used me!!!! Over and over!!!! TOGETHER WITH HIS
SICKO PEDOPHILIC
BUDDIES--"
"--If I weren't coked up, her motherly manner probably would have
made me
instantly limp. But the pocket samurai remained on alert as Kasumi took my hand
and--"
"--OH HO HO HO HO H--"
"--he had a deep soul. . .Deep, with black chasms and sunless depths--"
"Akari--I-I thought you loved pigs!"
"I do--to *eat*, Ryouga-kun--"
<FLASH>
--the world was spinning crazily as Genma let go, causing the woman
to fall
back down on her rump. It took a few moments for everything to come into focus,
and when it did he realized with a dim shock that he was soaked head to toe in
sweat.
"Ow!" the woman sat up on her knees, rubbing her posterior in pain.
"What's
wrong, sir?"
He found his voice. "I--don't know--" He rubbed the temples of his
head.
"I just. . .got a headache, that's all."
"I see. Well, I hope you get better!" The woman leaped to her feet.
With a
playful wink she tossed off "Sayonara!" and walked away, turning a corner,
disappearing from sight.
Genma stood alone, save for the panda watching him intensely, and
the visions
running riot through his head. Words. . .sounds. . .it was all a confused
jumble
and fading rapidly now, like a bad dream with the coming of dawn. But some of it
remained, snatches of words--
"--no i don't belong here, NO I DON'T BELONG HERE--"
--and the feelings, the dread, like an oil slick over the soul.
What had
happened? What was. . .*going* to happen. . .? Soun. . .
Soun.
<The pact with Soun,> he thought. <This has something to do with
it. It does,
I'm sure. Maybe it's an omen of some sort.> But if it *was* an omen, it
certainly
wasn't a good one, not by any stretch of the imagination.
<It's settled, then,> he resolved. <I'll just have to cancel my
visit with
Tendo-kun for today, go home, and figure out what to do from there. Maybe
I'm just
imagining things, but. . .> The scream from one of the visions came back to him
then, the scream that was full of pity, horror, fear. . .and shame. A flash of
scarlet hair over wide black eyes--
Genma shuddered with a sudden raw terror which he had never felt
before in
his entire life.
<Yes. . .definately time to do some mental heavy lifting. . .>
The maroon-haired, tan-eyed woman, fresh from her mission in
Sendai, was now in
Tokyo, standing on top of the city's Tower. She enjoyed the cool wind
blowing past
her as she brushed back her hair, then proceeded to remove her duster,
keeping it
under her arm.
"Epoch," a man stood behind her. "I trust you were successful."
The woman named Epoch turned to see a large man, about 7 feet tall,
floating before her. He was clad in a skintight black outfit with chrome
armor covering his right arm and left leg, and a large chrome fanged
skull shoulder pad on his right shoulder. Billowing in the wind was his red
within black cape and his long black hair.
His eyes glowed blood red as he furrowed his goatee.
"Darklord," Epoch answered as she bowed before him. "I'm happy to
report that
everything went as planned. Even as I speak, the fabric of time for this
dimension
has been rewoven."
"Superb," the Darklord smiled. "You have done well, Epoch. I knew
there was
a reason why I rescued you from the Chronomancer High Council."
"Remember our deal, as well, oh Demon of Evil." Epoch reminded him.
"As soon
as I help you take over this world, we take the OmegaSpan next."
"But of course, my dear. Your fellow Chronomancers must pay, after
all, for
exiling you from that place." Epoch turned away for a moment.
"Yes, they *must* pay. . .I suppose. . ."
"Well then, Shall we venture to the present, so we can reap what
seeds you're
sown?"
"Yes."
Both Epoch and the Darklord vanished through the folding and
twisting of the
surrounding reality. In moments, everything was calm again. . .
A young man looked upward toward the top of the Tokyo Tower. He was
clad in
a gray, white and black bodysuit with a white duster. His long hair was white
with a blue streak, and his eyes were colored purple. The young man bowed his
head sadly, witnessing Epoch and the Darklord's meeting.
"Epoch. . ." the man spoke with a British accent. "By the
OmegaSpan. . .what
have you gotten yourself into?"
Turning from the Tower, the man walked away, morphing through his very
surroundings as if he entered a vertical pool of water.
In moments, all was calm, as if the man never ever existed.
"Justice is the constant perpetual wish to render to every one his due."
-- Justinian I
NOW:
Morning broke upon the city of Portland, Maine. As the populace went
about their individual jobs, many of them were unaware of the extra building
on the outskirts.
Standing at a height of fifty-eight feet, with four individual
floors, the Forseti Tower's chrome hull glistened in the dawn's early light.
Inside the tower's second floor, in the middle room with no
furniture or
decorations, stood a man clad in a black bodysuit accentuated with reflective
chrome arm and leg guards and shoulder pads. With white hair and silver eyes,
he stood in the middle of the room, unmoving as if awaiting something. . .
anything. . .to happen.
"Silver. . ." a female voice, synthesized and ethereal, sounded in the
man's vicinity.
"Yes, System?" Silver answered the supercomputer.
"I have detected the strangest temporal disturbance." System
exclaimed.
"There is no precidence for this at all!"
Silver looked up. "Indeed? Where is it localized?"
"That is the strangest aspect to this anomaly. It has stretched from
Mainstream LV to Mainstream XLIV. . ."
"Mainstream XLIV? Hmm. . .Tokimi must not be pleased."
"Not only that, Silver, but the anomaly has also engulfed Futurestream
LXI, as well!"
Silver crossed his arms, cocking an eyebrow, deep in thought.
"Silver. . .I believe these alternate realities are merging!"
Silver raised his head.
"That is unheard of!" he said. "What is causing it?"
"Insufficient data, I'm afraid. I am working on the cause as we speak."
"No need for that, System," spoke a voice with a reverse-echo. "I can
tell you exactly who's at fault."
Time and space began to twist and bend the chrome surrounding's of
Silver's room, morphing into a human sized bubble. The bubble then popped,
revealing a young man clad in a gray, white and black body suit with a white
duster. His long white hair had a blue streak, and his eyes were colored
purple.
"Greeting and salutations Aeon," Silver hailed the young man. "What
information do you yield?"
"Bad information, my friend. I'm afraid the Threat's involved in this."
Silence enveloped the room.
"System, contact the Clansmen immediately," Silver commanded.
"Acknowledged," System affirmed.
"Revenge is a king of Wild justice; which the more man's nature runs to,
the more ought law to weed it."
Francis Bacon
Vultures. That's all they are.
To him, Technique's reason was sound. To him, the crooks and gang
members
and drug dealers were all scavengers. Preying on the innocent and the weak.
<Like Asia. Dear, sweet Asia.>
Years ago, Technique was Dominic Tawajime, born of an Asian father
and an
African mother. Due to his mixed parentage, Dominic gained exotic looks. Not
only that, but he was also endowed with a physically perfect body, enhanced in
all physical and mental aspects.
Asia was also attractive, having just turned fifteen. She was the
cutest
girl alive, at least to Dominic. Then came. . ."The Incident," and young Asia's
life was stolen, from her and from Dominic. Killed by a drug dealer.
"The Incident" changed his whole life, as the being called Silver
offered
him a chance to exact revenge on wrongdoers everywhere, giving him rubber-like
body armor, state-of-the-art weaponry and a new name:
Technique.
After soundly defeating the scum who killed his precious Asia,
Technique went
on to become the scourge of all criminals everywhere.
Perched on a building ledge, waiting for something to happen,
Technique's
comm-symbol belt buckle sounded two synthesized bells.
Growling with annoyance, he tapped the red disc.
"What?"
"Technique," System's voice emitted from the comm-symbols. "Your
presence is
required at the Forseti Tower's war room."
"Not now!" Technique hissed. "I'm busy."
"The Threat has made their move."
". . .Teleport by one, homeward bound."
In an instant, Technique vanished in a flash of light.
"When I play with my cat, who knows whether she is not amusing
herself with
me more than I with her?"
-- Michael de Montaigne
"For You About To Rock, We Salute You."
-- AC/DC, song title.
"Yeeee-HAAAA!!" Oh the half-pike Rocker was speeding back and forth on
Thrasher, his reflective chrome skateboard.
Nearby, Roar was immersed in a game of Crusing' U.S.A. racing in a
virtual
track, avoiding polygons shaped into various assortments of cars. She was
having
the time of her life: normally, due to her cat-like features, she wouldn't have
been able to enjoy herself like this. But thanks to an image inducer, her
yellow
cat-like eyes, claws, fur and tail were hidden behind the facade of a normal
eighteen year old girl.
Unfortunately, all the cat-like agility in the world couldn't save
her from
getting 11th place and losing the game.
"Damn," she expressed as she stepped out of the game console.
Grasping her
magnificent breasts, she arched her back, stretching out her muscles.
"Yo, Kitty!!" Rocker shouted as he flew up from the half-pike,
doing a 360 on
Thrasher. With his feet outstretched and Thrasher in hand, he landed on
the edge of
the half-pike, then proceeded to slide down to the middle and stride over
to Roar,
taking her in his arms.
"What'cha doing Kitty?" Rocker asked Roar. "You do stuff like that,
it turns me
on, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know," she answered, embracing Rocker. "That's why I do
it. Because I
love you."
"How much?"
"*This* much." Roar passionately kissed Rocker full on the lips.
Suddenly, both of their command symbols sounded.
"Ah, man!" Rocker said.
Roar sighed. "It never fails, does it?" Reaching into her denim
vest, she
pulled out her comm-symbol and pressed the center.
"What's up, System?"
"Roar," System replied, "Yours and Rocker's presence is required in the
Forseti Tower War Room."
"We're there. Just give us a moment to get out of sight."
Roar and Rocker left the Rec Room, turning a corner into an alleyway.
Calmly, Roar reached toward the lapel on her vest, switching off her image
inducer. Within seconds, her human disguise melted away, revealing her
tan-furred skin, as well as her vertically slitted pupils and her three foot
long tail.
Rocker smiled, reaching over and caressing Roar's lightly furred
cheek.
Instinctively, she leaned into it, purring lovingly.
"Let's bolt," Rocker said.
"System," Roar tapped her comm-symbols, "Teleport by two, homeward
bound."
Roar and Rocker dematerialized in twin flashes of light.
"The human body is the best picture of the human soul."
-- Lugwig Wittgenstein
Transformer smiled to herself as she felt the Miami sun slowly tan her
bare back. She had undone her bikini top for an even tan.
<This is the life,> she thought. <Mmmmmm,I could just lay here
forever. I
wonder if I'm sophisticated enough to get sun burned.>
Transformer was an android. A highly sophisticated machine, capable of
mimicking all human functions. Including being able to get a good tan.
She was also physically perfect, as well. With blond hair, dark blue
eyes, and a body that would make even a supermodel envious, there was no doubt
she could have her choice of men: several of them passing did double-takes,
sometimes nearly falling over each other.
<Too bad for them,> she thought. <There's only one man I will
probably ever
love> . . .And he was already taken.
<Oh, Rocker,> Transformer thought, <I love you, and I know you love
me. . .but you love Roar, too. I know I stepped down so you and kitty could be
happy. . .but still. . ."
Tears welled up in her eyes.
Dual synthesized bells sounded from Transformer's comm-symbol,
which was
clipped to her bikini bottoms. Calmly, she re-attached her top and depressed
the center of her comm-symbol. <Work, more work,> she thought. <That's what I
need.>
"Transformer here."
"Your presence is required at the Forseti Tower War Room."
"Okay." Transformer got to her feet and rolled her beach towel up,
taking
it up under her arm. "Teleport by one, homeward bound."
Transformer vanished in a flash of light.
THEN:
It had been a long day, full of congratulatory parties, friends and
gifts
exchanged, but pleasent as it had been Saotome Genma was glad that it was over.
His cloths lay in a neat pile beside his bedroll and he lay on the cover in
boxer
shorts and a tee shirt. His eyes were closed and all the lights were off.
He had run into Soun that evening at the bar where he and his
friends had gone
to celebrate. He's told him that "unforseen circumstances" had been behind his
abrupt cancellation of their meet earlier that day, and his friend had brought
it, but now that Genma ran things over again in his mind he felt somewhat
foolish
about the whole incident.
"Hallucination," he mumbled inaudibly to himself in the dark, "too much
stress, is all." He vowed to himself that he'd meet his friend again
tomorrow, and
talk to him about their idea then. Bad omen. Hah. <Don't wanna wind up a
superstisious dweeb like my old man. . .>
Softly, softly, he drifted off to sleep. . .
"Daddy. . .daddy, no. . ."
<What--?> Genma opened his eyes at the sound of the pleading voice.
He was laying on the ground, outside somewhere in the country.
There was a
pale blue sky overhead above the deep green of the trees, and the air had a
crisp clean bite to it which held no hint of indusrtial pollution. It didn't
look like any place he'd ever seen in Japan before.
<What--where am I?> thought a bewildered Genma as he stood. The
voices resumed,
somehow closer this time.
"Daddy, please--"
"Silance, boy! A true martial artist feels no fear, especially not
of something
as harmless as cats." For the first time Genma could hear a disjointed
cacophany of
meows. "I won't have a coward for a son!"
Something about the latter voice made Genma's innards grow cold. He
turned.
There was a pit nearby, and a large, beefy man was holding a child
over it.
The boy was struggling, his face white as a sheet, while the older man was
grinning sadisticlly.
It was him.
Genma's eyes bugged and his jaw dropped in amazement. <That. . .that's
*me*,> he thought. Older, somewhat fatter, but there was no mistaking the line
of the jaw or the flat face with it's high cheekbones. It was *him*. But
what was
he doing with the kid?
"This is gonna hurt me more then it will you, Ranma," his older
counterpart
intoned. And then he let go. Screaming, the child fell into the pit.
"NO!!" screamed Genma as he ran towards the scene. Without
hesitation he dived
into the pit, only to see the boy--Ranma, was his name?--screaming and crying
hysterically as the starving, abused felines clawed and bit him. In a frenzy he
tore the beasts off of the child, but when he removed the last one, he suddenly
found himself staring at a pile of cloths instead.
<Wh-->
"I'll scream..." Genma whirled towards the voice.
He was in a room now, someone's bedroom, by the looks of it, and
Ranma was there.
Somehow Genma was sure it was him, even though the boy was older now, and
had his back
turned to him. And was strangling someone.
She had short black hair over a beautiful, aquiline face which was
bleach
white and covered in sweat, eyes wide with a sheer terror just barely held
under
control. Her feet were a meter off of the ground.
<Oh, no. . .>
"I can feel the air coming from your lungs, Nabiki," said Ranma,
voice heavy
with a sick, oily glee, "but I don't hear anything. You might as well stop;
screaming will only hurt your throat."
His other hand moved to the front of her shirt, fiddled almost
playfully
with the top button.
"I wanted to kill you that first day, you know. The second--"
"EX-cuse me." Genma was now in the far corner of the room, in the
Anything
Goes opening combat position. "Why don't we try picking on someone who can
fight back, shall we?" It was a risk, he knew, confronting Ranma this way, but
he needed to know what the hell was going on. He didn't know the woman or why
Ranma was doing this or--
"Why, for a very good reason," responded Ranma to his unspoken
thoughts,
startling the daylights out of Genma. He turned, still groping Nabiki. "You
taught me this, didn't you, pop? "Anything Goes," isn't that right? Remember,
all that. . .*training* in China? Remember what happened there? What it did
to me?"
"The cats. . ." Genma breathed.
Ranma threw back his head and laughed. Nabiki began to struggle and
kick, and
he loosened his grip somewhat, enough so that one could hear the harsh rasp of
her breath.
"Oh, no, dear father, that was only the beginning, the cats, the
cats. The
things that happened to me. . .the. . .pain. . .the-the--" He began to giggle
then, mindlessly, a sound that held no humor whatsoever. With no warning at all
he squeezed and there was a wet *SNAP*. Nabiki went limp, and was tossed aside
like old garbage.
Genma screamed. He was flying straight at Ranma within a half
second, knowing
that it was too late, determined to try anyway. He went right through him, as
though he were intangible, bounced off of the very solid wall, landed hard
on his
right shoulder. Ranma was standing over him, laughing maniaclly, his face
absolutly
demonic. Genma found himself staring into Nabiki's lifeless eyes, and then,
to his
horror, her mouth moved and she spoke:
"Why, Genma?" she moaned, her voice a broken liquid ooze. "Why did
you raise
such a monster? Now your best friend's family is damned--he'll kill us all, you
know--" Images flashed before his eyes, of Ranma raping, buring and
slaughtering
all over the town, eyes wild, lips flecked with foam--
--Genma had just enough disipline left as he came awake to stifle
the scream
before he could utter it, his hands clutching his chest as though he were having
a heart attack.
"Mother of God," he breathed, "Sweet Mother of God. . ."