For this one, I offer my heartfelt thanks to T. H. Tiger, who put 
this one on the rack.  Give The Shikima Interface a read, folks, 
and give T. H. a holler.  (I'm making sure I will before November 
ends.)  While this one's a grim lime, it's still part of a dark
lemon, so watch your toes.  Onto the fanfic... 

***

Whoremonger 
by Nikholas "Switch" F. Toledo
Character design and events based upon Ranma 1/2 by Rumiko Takahashi
No discredit or disfavor is intended upon anyone.

Chapter Two

	The Chief of Police for the city of Tokyo sat at his desk awaiting 
the worries that came with the policing of a major world city.  Ever 
since the headquarters had moved over to Nerima, there had been a major 
upheaval in the underground, one which had his men all over the 
metropolis scrambling to control it, or even just stifle it.  He had been 
in the seat for several decades now, and was sure that, if he wasn't 
replaced soon, he would have to kill himself.
	He had been in his position long before any of these neo-Mafia 
goons had started sprouting fangs, back when the police were efficient.  
All the bureaucratic hogwash spreading below his ankles was just too far 
down the ranks, and too spread out to be contained.  After the total 
integration of the vice squad into the regular force, all hell broke 
loose.
	He was sure that there was a leak or two among his own cabinet, and 
he couldn't trust any of them.  The best he could do was to grab full 
control of the telecommunications network, and hope that someone would 
respond, and that someone was on his side, the side of true law.
	A hushed beep from his intercom alerted him.  Again, an armed 
encounter somewhere in lower Downtown.  He sent the message to transmit 
an alert, but knew far too well that anything that happened in Downtown 
happened before anyone from any of the nearby districts could arrive.

	Shampoo returned in time to catch a severe glance from her husband, 
who held the young woman (whose name she knew to be Akane) harshly by the 
arm.  He quickly held a point in the junction of her neck and her collar 
in his right hand, immediately causing the woman to lapse into 
unconsciousness.  
	He shoved the insensate girl's body towards Shampoo, which she 
caught easily.
	As Ranma had given her the girl, she assumed he meant for her to be 
next in line to train the novice.  She gave her groom a feline smile, but 
she received a weird glance back from him in return.  Hefting the body 
over her shoulder gently, she locked gazes with the man who had built an 
island in a no man's land.
	While moving to a small side room, he told her in straight Chinese, 
"you have no need to train this one."  There was a tinge to his voice 
that clouded his eyes.
	"Why not?  Is this one not to be of our group?  Of our harem?"  She 
smiled again, at her little joke.
	He did not seem to register the jibe.  "No."  He rubbed his hands 
slightly, and stared at them.  He always did that, after... handling... 
anyone.  "I will take care of her."
	That rang of something else totally.  "Husband," she intoned, "is 
something amiss?"  She ran her hand softly along his back, stopping only 
when she came to his buttocks.
	He didn't stop her, as he walked the two to another side room, 
where Akane would be bathed and dressed again.  "I meant that I will take 
over her training, wife."  He intoned the last word in the same manner 
the Amazon had addressed him, and bid them to enter.
	The alarms brayed into life.
	He did not mirror her worry.  "Finish with this one first, then 
attend to the unwelcome customers."

	The figure knew that there was no harm done to the one tied up, as 
he had not choked, but had just fainted.  Licking some of the thick fluid 
that he had literally blown all over the floor, the figure decided that 
there was a whole lot of good in him, too.  The figure removed the gag, 
and then started to loosen the bindings when the gunfire started.

	A panicked group of customers tried to bolt out of harm's way when 
an armed trio burst its way into the inner sanctum of the Sorrowful 
Springs, but could not;  the press of the shrieking crowd did not lend 
itself to feelings of well-being, and disorientation or simple lack of 
coordination prevented any of them from making a successful exit.  
Luckily, none of the customers had stampeded, as several patrons had 
fainted dead away, and would have been crushed in the panic.  None of the 
hookers had fled, but were sitting in various places around the room 
sobbing in apparent terror.
	Obviously miffed, one of the goons dragged the nearest whore to her 
feet.  He took a good look at her:  she was small, and light of build.  
She was wearing a dress that cut halfway across her thighs, and low along 
her breasts.  She avoided looking at his face, trembling with a terrible 
horror.  He snarled at her, just to see her shiver, her curly, light 
brown locks shaking with her tremors.
	He wrapped his left arm around her waist, and as he kept a gun to 
her right temple;  she sweated visibly.  He found the musk scent of her 
fear intoxicating.  His left arm tried to stay where it was, exactly 
centered on the small of her bodice, but the material of her dress was 
sheer and smooth to the touch;  it was hard to stay in the same place.
	The goon farthest from the first, who was eyeing each of the people 
on the floor, gave a guffaw which sent the young women closest to him 
shrinking where they lay.  "Do'er, man!"  he egged the former.
	"Shut the fuck up, man!"  The discomfited hood pointed his gun at 
the latter, muzzle under the girl's chin.
	The third goon was obviously the leader of the troop.  Giving a 
chop to the first goon's wrist, he knocked the gun out of alignment with 
the girl's head and then slapped the first thug, knocking him to the 
floor, while catching the hostage by her hair.  She screamed, as the 
others cleared space for the felled goon.  He stood up... but not too 
quickly.
	The lead goon was able to keep the hostage in check by pulling back 
her hair, and as her head was forced back, leveling his pistol to keep a 
line of fire straight through her throat.  She gasped, and held her 
voice.
	He spoke in her ear, head down, with a menacing stage whisper:  
"That's a good girl."
	The roaming goon shouted, "she's not here!"
	"I thought she wouldn't be 'ere," he said.  Gesturing at the goon 
who was brushing off motes of indignity, he gestured towards the 
stairwell that was near the entrance.
	"Ladies and gentlemen!  What we're having here is your everyday, 
average siege.  To further your own meager existences, all you need to do 
is find the exit, and leave.  Before your favorite establishment of 
Sorrowful Springs is burned to cinders.  Please fall in line, to avoid 
being silenced."  He cocked his gun for effect.
	
	The man once known as Ranma Saotome stared into the scene below, 
not really caring for the idea of the certain chaos that would surely 
ensue if he were to go down.  No, it was not his place to take care of 
petty thugs.  He took off the robe and glasses he wore, leaving him 
completely naked.  He entered the room where Shampoo had carried Akane, 
and closed the door behind him.

	"8356 in progress in lower Downtown," cackled the faceless geek 
down in the basement of TPGHQ.
	"Who cares?  Let them shoot the stuffing out of each other," 
responded the desk sergeant of the lower Downtown precinct.
	"Look, Hiroshi," said the familiar voice.  "If the chief says that 
there's supposed to be an 8356, he's not talking about heated words on 
top of coffee!  It's a major armed conflict, and it's scaring half of the 
populace shitless."
	"Daisuke?"  The desk sergeant almost choked on the burger he was 
munching through.  "Forget it, man.  I'm not patching this through so 
that a few more good men die."
	"And let some INNOCENTS die!  Stop thinking with your balls, and 
get ON the ball."  He slammed the dial, sending harsh static over the 
radio link between them.
	Hiroshi toned down the connection as soon as he could.  "Get ON the 
ball," he mimicked.  Well, we'll see.  Checking down the roster, the 
names for the on duty for tonight...  Takada, Chikusa,... what's this?  
"Lost Boy" Hibiki?  Oh, this was going to be good.  He turned on the 
frequency for the "all units" call.

	Silence ensued.
	He stood, dumbfounded.  No screams?  No stampeding masses, worrying 
for their good-for-shit lives?  Just blank faces.
	"Did you hear me?"  He noticed the slack in his captive's body.  
Looking over to his wingmen, he saw the same confusion that plagued him.
	"What the HELL is WRONG with you?!"  He turned the whore towards 
him.

	A CB radio buzzed unheeded in a car somewhere two blocks from the 
Sorrowful Springs.  A car sped past this parked one, ominous and black.

	She had this weird feeling that she was being reborn.
	Vivid images, being raised into a light by strong arms, and being 
immersed in a cleansing liquid.  For a moment, she thought she saw her 
father's eyes.  Strong and loving.  Clear and unmoved.  She focussed on 
the colors, she saw them shift from dark brown into the clearest of blue.  
She felt herself return to the fragrant fluids of her mother's womb.
	But... her mother had died long ago... the water was cold... the 
cold fingers of death closing upon her naked form.  She was bleeding... 
bleeding like before... when she had first tasted the weakness of the 
flesh.
	She had bled a long time ago, yes... but, she had not lost her 
love.  He went away, vowing vengeance on his father's killer... and never 
returned.  But she had not lost love... and had not lost blood, for 
him... no... it was at the first romance of nature, the last breath of 
life... in the forest of Ryugenzawa... the heat didn't feel this cold...

	It was a mistake.
	She had used her angular momentum to swing her arms upward and 
outward.  One of them had latched on the elbow of the arm that held her 
by the hair, while the other clamped onto the hip of her assailant.  
Pressing the shiatsu points on those locations, she was able to cause 
excruciating pain.  Her legs, on the other hand, had clamped behind his 
right knee.  Thus, she had flown across from him towards the center of 
the room, felling her captor.
	"Bitch!"  he hissed through gritted teeth.  The goon fell on his 
face after being flipped in mid-air, body stiff as his once-hostage 
pushed off him and into the center of the room.  He was pinned by another 
body, while his arms and legs were being bound.
	"Jigo!  Reimi!"  he shouted as loud as he could, against the 
carpeted floor.  "Trash'em all!  Burn the fucking thing down!"

	The whoremonger had gazed upon the broken harmony of the sleeping 
beauty before him.  She lay asleep, yet energy was emanating from her.  
She had life, kicking, in apparent death.  He took her as a lover would, 
and entered the pool.  Halfway, he felt his body shrink, and his figure 
reform.  She continued her descent with her load, and half-immersed Akane 
into the scented water.  
	Almost as soon as she had her ears into the water, Akane started to 
convulse, as though in terror.  Holding her feet and upper body, she 
waited for the spasms to stop.  Instead of ceasing, the became more 
violent, as bodily fluids began to flow from her nose, her mouth and her 
genitalia.  The whoremonger merely waited.
	She convulsed yet again, and her observer realized that she had, in 
fact, orgasmed.  A weak, pinkish flow of liquid came from her nether 
regions, along with some blood.  Some blood was showing itself under her 
skin in the form of bruises on her body.  She moaned, and her back arced.  
She began to sink, and assumed a fetal position.  
	The whoremonger took a breath, and submerged herself, as well.  The 
herbs in the pool already soaking into the younger girl's system, calmed 
her.  The smaller girl began the second part of the treatment, 
acupressure, pushing shiatsu spots and lymph nodes in an arcane yet 
systematic manner.

	"I don't think so, asshole."
	The gruffest, huskiest voice he ever heard streamed hot behind his 
ear.  He felt being pulled up by the scruff of his neck.  He saw his feet 
dangle below, unable to find firm ground.
	He craned to look at the largest woman he had ever seen.
	"Leave," she said, "while you still have the balls to do so."

	Shampoo fell back into the crowd, seeing that the situation had 
been diffused.  She slid over to the skinny woman who stood shakily.
	"Ran Ran, are you okay?"
	Ran Ran turned to embrace her older sister.  After a few seconds, 
she broke down, and cried, no less a young girl than she had looked.

	The whoremonger surveyed her work.  The body before her breathed 
more slowly than it did, and no longer bore the marks of pain as it had 
moments ago.  She waited for it to start to drown.

	The doors gave way as bullets assaulted it, creating a massive 
explosion of sound.
	The siege truly began.

***

Next up:  Chapter Three.

Oh, yes.  That big girl near the end was the rather hefty woman Shampoo
was fighting when Ranma first saw her.  Anybody know her name?  If she
doesn't have any, does anyone have any suggestions?  Or, at the very
least, what is the translation of "Gorilla Girl" in Chinese?

Any C&C?  Please?

Switch
Nikholas F. Toledo Zu @ http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Flats/3145/mezza9.html
Vector, Switch, Yebah, Don Juan, goo, Pervert, Scruples, Hollie, NomaD,
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