Ranma 1/2 is used without permission
Jet Moto is used without permission
C&C is, as always, welcome and appreciated

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

	The city of Tokyo shone in the darkness like a garish beacon, lighting up
the night. The towering structures of metal and glass reflected the light
that pooled on the streets below, enabling one to see the city from miles off.
	The large cargo liner approached Tokyo from the west, a a great steel bird
moving through the night sky. The Boeing's four turbo-fan engines sucked the
air through, propelling the aircraft forward above the endless black depths
of the sea of Japan.
	The plane entered Tokyo's airspace, soaring above the pool of artificial
light that was the city. Below, few looked up at the aircraft that roared
overhead toward Tokyo International Airport.

	Minutes after arrival in Tokyo, the running lights of one of Tokyo Intl.'s
runways appeared on the ground. The large Boeing began to shed altitude,
making its approach to the earth. The plane's landing lights clicked to life
as it descended, landing gear appearing from beneath the plane's body.
	The rubber met the pavement with a short bark, then another as the wheels
hit again. Finally, the tires remained on the ground as the plane
decellerated, coming to a stop near the end of the runway.
	Within moments, several vehicles began approaching the grounded behemoth. A
small truck carrying a stair rolled up to the exit to the passenger
compartment, while several vehicles approached the cargo area.
	The conveyor connected to the cargo access port, teams of workers loading
luggage onto the moving surface. Among the swarm of bags, suitcases, and pet
carriers came five crates. The crates were roughly half the size of a small
Moto, each bearing the logo of Joketsuzoku, Inc.; A purple Chinese dragon
winding around the character for strength.
	Before the crates reached the end of the conveyor, six teams of two were
waiting for them. They wore simple dark coveralls, no logos present
anywhere. As the first crate reached the end of the conveyor, the first pair
attached a pair of magnetic handles to the end of the crate. As they began
to pull, another pair affixed handles to the opposite end of the crate. As
they lugged the box to a waiting panel truck, the other teams repeated the
procedure with the other crates.

	Passengers walked down the steps leading to the pavement from JAL Flight
890, all with varying degrees of jet lag. The weary men and women trudged to
the ground, not even hearing the polite farewells the stewardesses sent in
their general direction. Even flight crews were vulnerable to fatigue.
	A Chinese woman stepped out of the door, back tall and straight as though
the flight hadn't bothered her. A deep purple cheongsam hugged her body
snugly, slits up the sides to the hip. A long, luxuriant mane of lavender
hair cascaded down her back, deep voilet eyes completing her exotic
appearance. A determined mask rested on her face as she strode purposefully
down the steps to the tarmac below.
	Behind her was a man of her height and nationality, an athletic build
beneath his simple vest-and-pants outfit. A thick mop of black hair rested
atop his head, his face a study in confidence, if not arrogance. His eyes
shone with intelligence, a calculating mind residing behind them.
	Lastly, a man in a simple busniess suit stepped out of the aricraft. He was
taller than most Chinese, his back straight as he walked with purpose and
pride. Long, thick black hair flowed down to the small of his back, with a
pair of impossibly thick glasses resting atop the bridge of his nose.
	The three of them walked across the tarmac to a waiting car, while the
other passengers of the JAL flight meandered into the baggage claim. Two men
in dark chauffeur outfits stood outside the black luxury car, one climbing
behind the passenger seat as the other opened the rear doors. The three
climbed into the car without a word, the chauffeur closing the doors behind
tehm and joining his partner up front. The vehicle's engine turned over,
cranking to life as the driver turned the key. Seconds later, the car rolled
into the night, the large panel truck close behind.

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

	The car's headlights bathed the large roll-up door of the building in their
halogen glow, the twin circles of light shrinking as the vehicle closed the
distance.
	The building was, in itself, unremarkable. It resembled many of the other
warehouse-type buildings in Tokyo's industrial area, looking like a filthy
cylinder on its side and half buried in the pavement. The roll-up door was
the only entrance visible from the front of the two-story structure. A long
row of rectangular windows streched across the top of the building, just
below the small ridge of the roof. All of the windows were caked with dirt
and grime, rendering the glass opaque. The area wasn't well-lit, but that
wouldn't pose any problems.
	The door rose silently, allowing passage to the car resting before it.
Moments after the car passed through, the large panel truck rolled into the
small parking area of the warehouse that the car had once occupied. Stopping
for a few seconds while the door opened enough to accommodate it, the truck
finally entered the large room.

	The three passengers of the sedan exited into the warehouse, lights flaring
to life as they did so. The man with the unruly mop cast his gaze about in
utter disgust.
	**What a dump,** he snorted in Chinese. Dust covered every square inch of
the floor, crates of varying sizes scattered haphazardly throughout the
small space. Thin sheets covered some of the crates, and dust covered all of
them. **At least they could have cleaned up in here.**
	**All of the equipment is highly sensitive,** the other man of the trio
said. **Dust could ruin the components, and that would put us back
indefinitely. Khu Lon won't like that.**
	**That's not MY concern,** the first man said with a sneer.
	**You have been assigned to this field team,** the woman said angrily,
**that MAKES it your concern.**
	**Are you trying to intimidate me, Shan Pu?** he snarled. 
	**Don't be ridiculous, Taro,** Shan Pu said. 
	**Just remember, that white haired raisin on a stick isn't here to protect
you,** Taro sneered, taking a step toward her. The long haired man behind
her began to move toward them, when a voice froze the three.
	**I wouldn't be so sure of that,** said the scratchy voice from behind
them. They whirled to find a gnarled old woman balancing easily atop an
ashwood stick. She was no bigger than the average toddler, with a mane of
white hair reaching almost to the floor. Her eyes betrayed nothing as she
gazed at the three before her.
	**Great Grandmother!** Shan Pu breathed in surprise, **Why are you here?**
	**I decided to head this field test of the new model myself,** Khu Lon
replied. **The results of this test are vital. We need to see how the
prototype functions in real-world conditions.**
	**What about...** Shan Pu began.
	**I will tell you when it is time for that, child,** she replied. **Mu
Tsu,** she said, looking at the long haired man, **The crew will ensure that
the conditions here meet the specifications to prevent component damage. You
are to remain here until assembly is completed. The rest of us will retire
to the hotel.**
	**Yes, Khu Lon,** Mu Tsu said in as normal a voice as he could manage. His
tone carried notes of sadness to it as his gaze fell on Shan Pu's back. Shan
and Taro followd Khu Lon into the car, while the crew in the panel truck set
to work. //This is going to be a LONG night,\\ Mu Tsu thought as the crew
got busy.

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

		The morotcycle's single headlamp cast a small pool of light onto the
pavement ahead of him, illuminating his way as Ranma guided the two-wheeler
through the streets of Nerima.
	He and Ryoga had talked for a while before leaving the track, refreshing
Ranma on what his friend and rival had been up to. Ryoga had signed on with
Shiratori, Inc., a corporation whose CEO was well known for her acquisitive
nature. Having bought out a minor Moto team, of which Ryoga had been a part,
Azusa Shiratori promoted him to lead pilot and assigned Mikado to keep him
from getting lost. She had, unfortunately, developed a twisted crush on
Ryoga, almost regarding him as her property.

	"She's got it bad for you," Ranma had said to him once the two had managed
to pry the pink bundle of affectionate energy from Ryoga.
	"Don't remind me," Ryoga had replied.
	"I've NEVER heard you scream that loud," Ranma said, ribbing his friend
with a chuckle.
	"I wasn't screaming!" Ryoga exclaimed in an indignant tone. "I was singing."
	"You were singing 'Get off me you crazy bitch!'?" Ranma replied.
	"Exactly," Ryoga said in a grave tone while Ranma had sniggered uncontrollably.

	Nabiki Tendo fumed as she sat in the leather chair behind her desk. The
halter and small shorts still adorned her body, the material of the chair
smooth and cool against the skin of her arms and legs, but did little to
cool her temper.
	It had been four hours since Ranma decided to go off on his own again, and
at the worst possible time. She had taken the time to get dolled up in an
outfit that would catch him off-guard, and possibly loosen his tongue, and
he goes off and disappears.
	//Just like a man,\\ she thought, //NEVER around when you need him.\\
Nabiki's terminal chirped for attention, indicating that Ranma had returned
to the complex. Taking a few deep breaths, Nabiki brought her temper under
control. She wasn't about to wait any longer to grill him.

	Ranma walked out of the garage, arms extended over his head as he stretched
his tired muscles. Fatigue gnawed at his consciousness, trying to drag him
into the abyss of sleep as he walked through the halls of the complex.
	His feet hit the hardwood floor silently as he passed through the empty
family room. The lights had long since been turned off, casting the room in
deep shadow. As his eyes adjusted to the absence of light, he began to make
out vague shapes resembling furniture. Carefully threading his way through
the darkened maze, he finally found himself at the foot of the stairs
leading up to the second floor.
	Silently, he crept up the stairs, trying his hardest not to wake anyone. He
really didn't feel like explaining himself to anyone at the moment. After a
few moments of skulking, he stood in front of his door with his hand frozen
on the knob. For some reason, he felt that something wasn't right. Shaking
his head angrily, he threw off the feeling of dread that overcame him. He
was just going to bed, what could possibly happen?
	Pale moonlight filtered through the glass of his bedroom's only window,
casting a weak patch of light on the empty bed. Not bothering to remove his
clothing, Ranma strode over to the bed and flopped down face-first onto the
soft mattress. 
	"Rise and shine," came a female voice from behind him. Startled, Ranma
leapt up off of the bed and whirled to face the shadowed figure standing in
front of his door. By the time his brain registered whose voice he heard,
the figure flipped the light switch. The glare faded quickly as Ranma's eyes
focused on the form of Nabiki, standing by the door with a  playful smirk on
her face.
	//Why don't I like this?\\ Ranma thought to himself as she advanced.

	Nabiki saw the startled and confused look on Ranma's face and smiled
inwardly. She had managed to catch him completely off-guard, and from the
way his eyes flicked quickly up and down her body, she knew the outfit was
only distressing him further. Men were easy, as long as one knew which
buttons to push.
	"What're you doin' in here?" Ranma asked as he stared at her. His voice
sounded slightly bewildered as his eyes locked with hers. 
	"Oh, I couldn't sleep," Nabiki replied in a bored tone. "I just thought I'd
drop in for a chat, since we're both awake."
	"Ain't it a little late?" Ranma asked, a note of annoyance creeping into
his voice.
	"It's only eleven," Nabiki answered as she slowly closed the distance
between them. She saw Ranma's adam's apple bop up and down as he swallowed
nervously, his gaze wavering a little. Suppressing a grin, she took a seat
on the bed, leaning back and crossing one shapely leg over the other. "Sit
down."
	Ranma tore his gaze off of Nabiki, hopping up on the dresser opposite her.
"Can't this wait 'till mornin'?" he asked.
	"Oh, I don't see why," she replied in a coquettish tone.
	"So... uh... whaddaya want to talk about?" Ranma asked nervously.
	"You," was her reply.
	"M...me?"
	"That's right," Nabiki said as she cranked up the charm another notch.
	"Why?" Ranma asked.
	Nabiki un-crossed her legs and sat up again. Ranma's tone had become a
little guarded. Obviously, he didn't like to talk about his past. His eyes
glanced about the room, as though searching for a chance to escape.
	"Just curious, that's all," Nabiki answered in a more normal speaking
voice. Perhaps her approach had been frightening him off all the while?
	"Are you hittin' on me or somethin'?" Ranma asked nervously as he looked
her over once again.
	"No, Ranma," Nabiki said with a genuine chuckle. So THAT'S what was going
through his head. "I just want to know." He WAS rather cute, however...

	"There's not much to tell, really," Ranma said after a pause. He still sat
atop the dresser, eyes on Nabiki who had assumed a bit more normal a
position on the bed, the fact that she was ON it something he fought to ignore.
	"Pop took me an' Ranko on the road for a few years, back when we were six.
He spent all that time teachin' us how to ride Motos." His voice carried a
hint of resentment as he said the last.
	"Sounds like you didn't like it much," Nabiki said. //Come on, Ranma, tell
me something I need.\\
	"It was...rough," Ranma said at length. Nabiki could tell he was hiding
something about his time on the road. "Real rough."
	"Well," Nabiki began. She would have to phrase this carefully. It wouldn't
do to have Ranma find out that she had been looking into his past already.
"Why did you two go with him? Why didn't your mom stop it?"
	"'Cause she wasn't there," Ranma said. "She left about a week before Pop
took us on the road."
	//What?\\ Nabiki thought. If she was reading this right... "She left?"
	"Yeah." Ranma said. The words were coming a little quicker now, as though
they were in a rush to escape his lips. "Pop got the Motos from some guy,
Kuonji or somethin' like that. For some reason, Mom flipped out about it.
They had a big fight, and Mom stormed out. Neither me or Ranko ever saw her
again." Ranma's words carried a definite undertone of anger and resentment
as he talked about his mother, his eyes almost shining with unshed tears.
	Nabiki noticed that, filing it away for later. Ranma didn't know his mother
was dead? It may have been nothing, but it set off warning bells in her head
nonetheless. Something REALLY didn't seem right about this, though she
couldn't put her finger on what.
	"I'm getting pretty tired," Nabiki said with an expertly faked yawn. She
had a lot to think about. Rising to her feet, she stretched her arms over
her head as she moved toward the door.
	Ranma hopped down from the dresser, and walked over to the door with her.
	"Well, uh, it was, uh..." Ranma stammered.
	"I enjoyed this little talk, too," Nabiki said. A playful idea came to her
as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Ranma went rigid with surprise as
Nabiki felt the tense musculature beneath his thin shirt. //Not bad...\\ she
thought as she opened the door.

	On the other side stood a robe-clad Kasumi, hand raised in a position as
though to knock on the door. Her face became a mask of puzzlement and
surprise as she saw Nabiki, dressed in her tiny shorts and halter in Ranma's
room with her arm draped around his shoulders.
	"Oh, my," Kasumi said quietly as she gazed at the two. "I do hope I'm not
interrupting. I head voices, and..."
	"No!" Ranma exclaimed. "It's...not what it... I mean..."
	Nabiki suppressed a laugh with a herculean effort. Deciding to have a
little fun, she leaned in close to Ranma's ear.
	"Thank you for tonight, Ranma," She whispered huskily. "I really enjoyed
it." Ranma's eyes grew to the size of baseballs as his face went pale.
Nabiki sauntered out the door, passing Kasumi who just stood there.
	"Oh, my," Kasumi said again as she walked back to her room. Ranma simply
stood there for a few moments, his brain dangerously close to a meltdown.
	//What the HELL just happened?\\ Ranma asked himself when he finally
returned to his bed.

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

	The barbell rose into the air, and sank back down a second later. After
another second it rose again, only to descend soon after. For several
minutes the barbell rose and fell in that slow, steady rhythm, occaisionally
accompanied with light grunts of exertion.
	//Ninety-FIVE!\\ Ranma mentally counted as he raised the barbell once more.
Sweat beaded on his bare arms and chest, some of it getting onto the nylon
padding of the weight bench he lay on. //Ninety-SIX!\\ he counted, his arms
burning with the exertion of bench-pressing fifty-five kilograms that many
times. //Ninety-SEVEN! Ninety-EIGHT! Ninety-NINE! One HUNDRED!\\
	His muscles burning pleasantly from the workout, Ranma replaced the barbell
on the rack. He rose from the bench, grabbing the towel he kept at the end
as he did so. Quickly toweling off, he strode over to one of the mirrors
that lined the wals of the gym.
	//Not bad,\\ he thought as he flexed his biceps. The blue jeans fit
loosely, Ranma wasn't much on tight-fitting clothes, but showed off some of
the musculature in hsi legs. //Not bad at all...\\

	"Admiring the view?" Akane asked sarcastically as she entered the small
gym. Ranma turned around and glared at her as she stepped to the center of
the room, the gunmetal grey jogging suit doing little to flatter her figure.
	"Just finished my workout," Ranma said, draping the towel around the back
of his neck.
	Akane kept her gaze firlmy on the floor as she spread her legs. Taking a
breath, she bent forward, touching her left shoe with her right hand. She
remained in that position for a few seconds before rising again to repeat
the procedure with the opposite limbs.
	When she rose again, she caught a glimpse of Ranma's reflection as he left
the gym. She caught herself staring a little at his muscular back as his
reflection made for the door. Okay, even if he WAS attractive, he was still
an asshole. But Kasumi DID suggest, in her impossible-to-refuse way, that
she apologize to him for throwing his apology back in his face. And now was
as good a time as any.
	"Ranma," she said as she straigtened up again. In the mirrored wall, she
saw Ranma's reflection stop, but not turn.
	"Yeah?" he said noncommittaly.
	"About yesterday," Akane went on with a touch of reluctance.
	"What about yesterday?" Ranma asked in the same tone. Akane's temper flared
slightly at Ranma's seemed indifference. Didn't he know that she was trying
to apologize? 
	"I'm... well..." Ranma simply stood there as Akane fumbled with the
apology. //What's wrong with you?\\ she berated herself, //just come out and
say it? How hard can that be?\\
	"I'm sorry," Akane finally said. "I know you were just trying to apologize
to me yesterday, and I threw it back in your face."
	"Don't worry about it," Ranma replied. With that, he began to move toward
the door again.
	Akane's ire rose another few notches as his reflection disappeared. Here
she had apologized to him, and he just treated it like it meant NOTHING!
//That insensitive JERK!\\ she mentally shouted as she began her
jumping-jacks routine.

	"Hey, Akane," came Ranma's voice as his reflection appeared in the mirror
once again, showing the view of his still-bare chest. Akane kept her gaze
rigidly ahead, trying to ignore him. "Thanks for the apology. I'm... I guess
I'm sorry, too."
	"Don't worry about it," Akane replied in a flat voice. She glimpsed Ranma's
reflection out of the corner of her eye, looking as though he intended to
say something. Instead, he turned and exited the gym once more, leaving
Akane to her workout. Once he was gone, Akane allowed a small smile to
spread across her lips as she resumed her exercises.

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

	Nabiki Tendo sat in her office, the monitor of her terminal casting a pale
glow on her face. The face on the monitor glared at her in a way that made
Nabiki most uncomfortable.
	"Now, Miss Tendo," the woman on the other end of the connection said in a
voice that Nabiki found oddly disturbing. Her raven-black hair flowed down
her right shoulder from the long ponytail she had tied at the side of her
head. Deep violet eyes bored into Nabiki's, eyes that could haunt one's
nightmares if one gazed into their depths for long enough. The pale skin
contrasted starkly with her black hair, though she didn't look sick.
Physically, anyway. "Would you mind telling me HOW you could afford a new
pilot, when your current debts are so enormous?"
	"I didn't have any choice in the matter, Kodachi," Nabiki said in a cold
tone. "My father bought his contract out without telling me. For the next
five years, he's a pilot for our team." She had no love for Kodachi Kuno,
and never would.
	"I still hope you can keep your payments up," Kodachi said smugly. Nabiki
mentally growled at the leering image of Kodachi Kuno on her monitor.
	Two years before, Team Ryu-Ken was dangerously close to going under. The
debts kept rising, and income kept falling at an alarming rate. Their only
functional Moto had been totalled beyond even Kasumi's repair capacity.
	With no races being won, and no money coming into the team's coffers, the
debtors began to circle overhead the team like vultures above the carcass of
a dying animal. For a time, they were afraid to even answer the phone in
case the person on the other end was hunting money.
	It was one of the few times in her life that Nabiki had actually been
desperate. If they lost the complex, they'd end up on the street. Real
estate in Japan was at a premium, and the rates were insane. There was no
way they could have afforded even a one-bedroom apartment.

	"Don't worry about it," Nabiki snarled, "you'll get your money."
	"That's good to hear," Kodachi replied with her trademarked laugh, a sound
both haughty and terrifying. "After all, my idiot brother was fool enough to
actually loan you the money, the least I can do is to see that it is returned."
	Nabiki had needed a source of income, and fast. Enough to perhaps purchase
a new Moto and stave off the jackals meaning to finish them off. It took
some thought, and a lot of pride-swallowing, but she went to the one man
with whom she had the best chance, Tatewaki Kuno.
	There had been no love lost between Kuno and herself, a failed relationship
being the main culprit. As a means to help ensure that this would work, not
to mention save a little face, she laid it on thick how Akane really needed
a Moto, so that she could race and stay off the streets. Thankfully, it had
worked. Kuno bought Akane a brand-new Moto, and also fought off a few of the
more determined debtors.
	Nabiki never told anyone how she managed to scrounge up the money, simply
saying what a wonder creative accounting was. She had every intention of
paying Kuno back as soon as she could. Unfortuanetly, his sister, Kodachi,
had learned of what happened. Even more unfortunately, she was mainly in
charge of the family's accounts.
	Beneath the exterior of a cold and possibly insane pirhana, Kodachi was as
shrewd as any Nabiki had seen. And she didn't take too well to Tachi's
ex-girlfriend squeezing funds out of him, even though she never liked Nabiki
in the first place.
	As such, Kodachi kept dangling the debt in front of her, threatening to
call it in if a payment was missed, or if Nabiki just pissed her off in
general. Nabiki absolutely hated it, but needs must when the devil drives.
	"Anything else?" Nabiki asked with thinly veiled disgust.
	"I look forward to seeing how your new pilot handles," Kodachi said before
killing the connection. Nabiki sat there for a few moments, wondering what
Kodachi meant.
	"What's wrong with that woman?" Nabiki muttered as she brought up another
spreadsheet. The team still hadn't reached the black, but they were getting
there. As she pored over the figures, the mystery over Ranma out of her mind
for the time being, her terminal spoke.
	"You've got mail!" it announced in a smooth voice. Nabiki glanced at the
window that opened in the top right corner of her monitor, with an envelope
image filling the space. Written on the white image was two words: Race
Committee.

	Nabiki's heart nearly leapt into her throat as she tapped the image with
her light-pen. Her email program activated, filling the screen with a table
of saved messages. The latest addition to the collection blinked for
attention at the bottom of the table, a large black bullet beside it.
Tapping the blinking message with the light-pen, a medium sized window
opened on the screen.

	"Ms. Tendo," the message read. "We wish to inform you that your application
to the first Kagawa-circuit race of the season has been approved. Afterward,
your team must confirm their ability to attend each consecutive
Kagawa-circuit race, or their position will be forfieted for the remainder
of the season.
	"Congratulations on being selected. Unfortunately, the slots for the first
season race filled faster than anticipated, and only one slot is available
for your team. Therefore your team may only utilize one pilot.
	"We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause."

	Nabiki almost whooped for joy as she read the message. Team Ryu-Ken was now
racing in the, well, not the BIG leagues, but a decent one for a change. For
a few moments, she forgot her debt to Kodachi and the situation with Ranma.