Ranma and Jet Moto are used without permission
Text between // \\ indicates thought
Text between [ ] indicates speech over commlink
C&C is, as always, welcome and appreciated.
Previous chapters, along with my other works, can be found at
http://web infoave.net/~jedediah

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Jet Moto Ch. 6
First Draft

	"Ranma!" Kasumi's voice chimed through the walls of the garage as she
walked over to his dented Moto.
	"Hey, Kasumi," Ranma said as he looked at her from over the seat. His face
was slightly smudged with lubricants and sweat, his hair somewhat tousled.
"What's up?" 
	Kasumi took a deep breath before continuing. She was still a little angry
at what Ranma had said the previous day, but she didn't want to show it.
After all, volatile tempers hardly ever helped anything.
	"Ranma," she said, standing over him on the other side of the Moto, "I
really think you should apologize to Akane."
	"Huh?"
	"Ranma, I was there, I heard what you called her." His face fell a little
at the rude comment he made about Akane.
	"What's the big deal?" he asked. "It's just a name." 
	Kasumi sighed at how dense he appeared to be. "Akane may seem very strong,
but it really is very easy to hurt her feelings. I really think you should
apologize to her. She's in the gym." Ranma looked into her deep brown eyes,
and any will he had to disagree suddenly and mysteriously vanished like
morning fog. For some reason, he absolutely couldn't argue with Kasumi.
	"All right. I'll do it after I finish this," he said grudgingly, bending
back to his task.
	"Ranma, that's not what I meant," Kasumi said. Her voice was still gentle,
yet very firm. Putting down his screwdriver, Ranma rose to his feet and
dusted off the blue jeans and red shirt he wore.
	"I guess I'll go do it now," he said as he made his exit. Kasumi went
around the front of the machine and knelt at the main access port that Ranma
had open. Producing a penlight from the breast pocket of her blue coveralls,
she peered into the Moto's innards, trying to find where he left off.

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	The Complex's gym facility was actually much smaller than it looked on the
inside. Mirrors lined the walls of the five-by-five meter space, giving the
illusion of infinite space.
	The equipment was somewhat dated, but still useful. Weight benches, curling
bars, a punching bag, and assorted other training devices occupied various
spots on the hard floor. On the right side of the room rested a treadmill,
with Akane running on it.
	Her feet pounded the surface of the treadmill relentlessly as she pumped
her legs up and down. Sweat trickled down her face, soaking parts of the
grey sweatsuit she wore. She glared at her reflection in the mirror before
her, her face a mask of anger.
	Ranma's comment about her kept the fires of her rage burning hot and
bright. It wouldn't have bothered her so much if so many others hadn't
called her the same thing.
	Her violent reactions to Kuno's unwanted advances had prompted rumors about
her sexuality. The rumors had only spread farther when she refused the
advances of other men on the racing circuit. They didn't seem to understand
that she just wasn't interested in a relationship, she simply didn't have
the time. However, as they said, vicious tongues will wag.
	Her train of thought derailed when Ranma appeared in the mirror. Her face
slipped for a second, but resumed its stony expression. She picked up her
pace, thinking to ignore him.
	"Hey, Akane," he said, "can we talk?" 
	Akane acted as though she didn't hear him. She really wished she hadn't
forgotten her discman that morning. "Listen, about what I said," he went on,
"I... well... that is..."
	"Just spit it out, Ranma," Akane said angrily. "What do you want?"
	"Hey, I'm tryin' to apologize here!" he exclaimed.
	"For what?"
	"For callin' you a dyke," Ranma said,
	"That doesn't bother me," Akane snarled, her feet pounding the surface fo
the treadmill harder and harder.
	"Sure you're not," Ranma said sarcastically.
	"Don't blame me if YOU'RE too sensitive about that
sort of thing, Ranma.  After all, a guy who walks around with a cute
little ponytail seems pretty weird to me," Akane sneered.
	Ranma's face twisted into a scowl of rage. "Forget you! This is what I get
for tryin' to say I'm sorry!" With that Ranma stormed out of the gym,
muttering curses under his breath. Before leaving, though, he turned around
and shouted, "I hope you find a man just like you!" With that, he left the
gym, slamming the door behind him.

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	While she had declined Hawkes' offer of lunch, Ukyo had followed up on his
recommendation of a nearby establishment specializing in Thai cuisine.  For
this part of town, the prices were surprisingly reasonable - she guessed the
owners could afford to set them so, given the consistent patronage the place
seemed to enjoy.
	She looked out the window for a moment, wondering how much of her past was
known by the young man she was dining with. His short purple hair was, as
always, tousled. Silver eyes wandered about the room, betraying nothing
about what went on behind them. Chance was, she reflected with some sadness,
perhaps her only real friend, an acquaintance for which - as perverse as it
sounded - she had that past to thank. If, after all, that... that snake in
human skin she knew as Genma Saotome hadn't taken everything, forced her
father to the bottle and eventually the grave, and railroaded her into a
series of experiences the blackest of which still gnawed away in her
nightmares as much as she tried to forget them, then they would likely only
have met as opponents on the track, if at all. And wouldn't that have been a
shame?
	"What're we celebrating?" Chance wanted to know now, having noted the
arrival of the champagne. He spoke good Japanese with a slight Russian accent.
	"Closure." Ukyo smiled at him.

============================================================================

	Nabiki adjusted the teal halter as she gazed at her reflection in the
full-length mirror. The room, like her office, was neat and orderly. A
western-style bed sat in the center, a small desk beside it. the floor and
walls were painted the color of dark mahogany, as was the rest of the
furniture. Books of all sorts lined the twin sheleves on the east wall, with
a stereo on the opposite. A large shelf of CDs sat beneath the main unit,
the titles shoeing Nabiki's broad musical tastes.
	The halter and gym shorts ensemble flatterd her curves in a most appealing
fashion. The small shorts showed most of her shapely legs and the halter
exposed most of her toned midriff. The outfit was racy to say the least and
would entice stares from the opposite sex, which is exactly what she intended.
	It was time to talk to Ranma about his past, and she wanted the deck
stacked in her favor as much as possible. Judging from what he did while
thinking of his departed sister, his past was obviously something he found
rather painful. He would most likely hedge when she asked him about it, or
refuse to talk outright. An outfit like this would likely throw him off
guard and get him to spill something.
	The research she did on Nodoka's parents was enlightening to say the least.
Fumio was a high-ranking official in Mishima Heavy Industries, a large
corporation that manufactured construction equipment. Fumio was rather
well-off, if not excessively wealthy. Their daughter, Nodoka, had been to
one of the finest schools in Tokyo, and had a promising future. Then she met
Genma Saotome.
	From what she could gain on Genma's past, he was far from the perfect man.
In fact, he had a rather long rap sheet. The records didn't say, but Nabiki
gathered that once she married Genma Saotome, Fumio and Reiko more or less
disowned her, for contact between them stopped cold.
	Some would have called it a romance, but Nabiki knew better. Genma didn't
seem the type for it. It was entirely possible that he married her for her
money, but that was neither here nor there. Satisfied at her appearance, she
left her bedroom in search of Ranma.

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	"Hey, Kasumi," Nabiki said as she walked into the garage. She hardly ever
set foot in there, she never really had any reason to.
	Kasumi looked up from her workbench, casting a warm, yet somewhat puzzled
smile at her younger sister. "Hello, Nabiki," Kasumi replied. She hid her
disapproval of Nabiki's outfit, personally of the belief that a girl really
shouldn't flaunt her figure quite the way Nabiki was doing.
	"Have you seen Ranma around?" Nabiki asked. She had been looking for him
for twenty minutes since she had talked to Akane. Her little sister was
still furious over the fight the two had in the gym, and was still working out.
	"He said he was going to the track," Kasumi replied, pointing to the spot
where the loaner motorcycle once sat. "He said he needed to cool off."
	Nabiki silently cursed at the news. Where was the guy when you needed him?
"Okay, thanks sis."
	"Nabiki," Kasumi said causing Nabiki to stop in her tracks, "Ranma seemed
very upset when he left. Did he and Akane have another fight?"
	"You might say that," Nabiki said. Kasumi "tched" at the news.
	"Those two need to learn to get along," Kasumi said.
	"Well, that's not my department," Nabiki said as she turned to leave.
"Later, sis!"

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	Ranma stood in the center of the empty track, trying his damndest to bring
his temper under control. The late afternoon sun cast lengthening shadows on
the track and stands, the silence almost deafening.
	The loaner motorcycle sat dormant behind him, a black Honda with a purple
stripe around the middle. It wasn't the best cycle he'd ever ridden, but at
least it got him where he wanted to go.
	Ranma couldn't believe how stubborn Akane was. He had tried to apologize,
he really did, but she just twisted his words, and insulted him by hinting
that he was gay. What was that girl's problem?
	Ranma's reverie was disturbed by the sound of a truck entering the stadium.
The truck came to a stop across from Ranma, a white Mitsubishi Fuso with
tinted windows and and the characters for Team Shiratori on the front grille.
	Ryoga stepped out of the passenger side of the truck, a wide grin splitting
his face.
	"What the hell are you doing here?" he shouted as he stepped up to Ranma.
	"Just coolin' off," Ranma replied, clasping forearms with his friend and
rival. "Me an' Akane had another round."
	"Another?"
	"Yeah. I try to apologize to her, an' she throws it back in my face!"
	"Sorry 'bout that, man," Ryoga said. "Listen, let me get in a few laps, and
we'll talk about this."
	Without warning, a small, pink blur rocketed out of the truck, glomping
onto Ryoga from behind. The blur resolved itself into a small woman dressed
in a pink skirt and blouse with frills nearly everywhere.
	"DARLING RYOGA!" she squealed. Ryoga's face took on a terrified expression,
his eyes locking with Ranma's as he mouthed "Help". Ranma merely snickered
at his friend's plight. He would have to find out what he'd been up to lately.

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Soundtrack:

	The scene in the garage was written to the song "I Alone" by Live. The song
is on the Throwing Copper album.

Thanks!

Jed