Avenging
Chapter 3
Blind Man's Bluff
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An Ranma 1/2/Avengers (the superhero group) fusion
All C+C is craved for
You can contact me at
sommer@3rdm.net
Standard Disclaimer: Hell, no. I don't own any of the characters
Avenging is being kept at:
Doug's Archive at:
http://www.theisp.net/pages/catman/
Slashley's page at
http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Shrine/5747/
And my own page at:
http://angcobra.jumpfun.com/dbsommer.html
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Even in a place as odd as Nerima, one did not have race cars crash through
the front glass of a bank all that often.
So it was that the huge glass window to the bank's lobby shattered in a
loud crash, which caused all of the customers, tellers, and security guards
to throw themselves on the ground and cover their heads. The cacophony
continued as the loud impact of the race car that had driven through the
window landed on the tiled floor and skidded across it. It somehow missed
all of the prone patrons and came to a stop in front of the counter, right
next to a teller.
The engine fell silent, and the clear plastic dome that had been in place
over the roofless car slid back, allowing the driver to stand up so that
all in the lobby could see him. He wore a gaudy-looking blue leather jacket
and pants with yellow birds all over them. On his head was a dark blue
crash helmet, and he wore oversized driving goggles over his eyes,
obscuring his features from the world. He held a machine-gun in his hands
and brandished it in the air; the hint of deadly menace clear in his
manner.
One of the bank tellers nearest to the car stood up and spoke. "Sir, I'm
afraid the drive-thru is located on the other side of the bank."
"Oh. Sorry about that." The driver began to sit down, then slapped himself
in the helmet and stood up once again. "This is a stick-up! Nobody move or
you'll be sorry! Now my name's Stuntmaster, and I want you to give me all
of your money o-"
"Hey! You're Speed Racer!" one of the customers said as he got up off the
floor and pointed at Stuntmaster in awe.
Eyes widened beneath oversized driving goggles. "H...how did you-"
Stuntmaster took a deep, calming breath and collected his thoughts. "I'm
afraid you're mistaken, sir. My name is Stuntmaster. As you might have
guessed by my outfit, I am a supervillain, and have no affiliation
whatsoever with that scourge of the speedways, Speed Racer."
"But you're driving the Mach-5." The man pointed at the distinctive-looking
white race car with the big red 'M' on the hood.
"Argh!" Stuntmaster grunted as he smacked himself in the helmet once again.
He knew he had forgotten to do something. Trying to salvage something from
the mess his situation had become, he said, "I...umm, stole it from him.
Yes, that's it. I stole it from him and now it's called the Stuntmobile."
"Why does it still have an 'M' on the hood? Stuntmobile starts with an
'S'," a five year old boy pointed out.
"Mind your own business!" Stuntmaster shot back.
Just as he finished shouting, the trunk to the 'Stuntmobile,' flung open
and two diminutive figures, armed with submachine-guns, burst out from it.
"Freeze! If anyone moves, I'll cap your sorry ass!"
"Ook! Ook!"
Stuntmaster looked on in shock at the two stowaways. "Spridal! Chim Chim!
What the hell are you doing here?"
Spridal gave an okay sign to his brother. "Me and Chim Chim wanted to help
out, just like we always do."
Stuntmaster brought his hands to his helmet. "Pop's going to kill me for
getting you involved in this heist."
Silently, one of the security guards approached Stuntmaster, staying out of
the gaudily dressed supervillain's line of sight. He went undetected,
getting within a foot of the villain before drawing the object from within
the confines of his uniform and poked Stuntmaster in the back with it.
"Can I have your autograph, Mr. Racer?" the security guard asked, pen and
a piece of bank stationery in hand.
By almost unconscious reflex, Stuntmaster said, "Sure," and began to sign
the paper. It took him a moment to realize what he was doing. He quit
signing the autograph and brandished his weapon once more. "Quit horsing
around! This is a stick-up, so act like it!"
A thrown billy club connected with the side of Stuntmaster's helmet,
producing a ringing sensation, but otherwise leaving him unharmed. His eyes
followed the path of the attacking weapon, which bounced once on the floor
before returning to the hand of its wielder.
All eyes turned to see the man, standing next to open area where the window
had been a moment ago. He was wearing a loose-fitting, blood red robe and a
red mask with two tiny horns on the head. The lower portion of the mask was
cut out, allowing the masked adventurer to talk without any obstructions.
Two overlapping 'D's in black lettering were clear on the center of his
chest.
"Oh my god!" Stuntmaster gasped. "It's Batman!"
The billy club met his face this time.
"I'm not Batman, you moron!" the man in red shot back.
Stuntmaster began jumping up and down in joy. Here he was, only on his
first official super-villain outing and already he rated the attention of a
superhero. With all of the witnesses present, it was his chance to make it
big.
Preening like a peacock, Stuntmaster boldly announced to the crowd, "So,
it's my arch-nemesis..." Stuntmaster suddenly realized he didn't have the
faintest idea of who his opponent was. The double 'D's on his chest must
have stood for something, and it probably had nothing to do with the masked
man's breast size. Stuntmaster's mind raced with the possibilities.
"Destructive Dan?"
"What are you talking about?" the red-garbed adventurer asked in obvious
bewilderment.
"Dr. Danger?" Stuntmaster guessed again.
"Don't be absurd." The masked man at last understood what Stuntmaster was
doing.
"Dirk Domino?"
"Can't you at least be imaginative?"
"Dastardly Disaster?"
"That's it! My name is-"
"I've got it! The Debutante Detective!"
A billy club met his helmet in the second time. "My name is Daredevil!
Daredevil!"
"No need for such language, my arch-nemesis," Stuntmaster assured him.
"I'm not your arch-nemesis," Daredevil pointed out as his teeth gnashed
together. "This is the first time we've ever met, Speed Racer."
"I'm Stuntmaster, not Speed Racer!" the villain snapped. "And this is but
the first of many meetings we shall have."
Daredevil shook his head. "Not likely. I'm going to capture you right now
and you're going to jail for a very long time."
Stuntmaster scoffed at the very idea. "What are you going to do? Bounce
your billy club off my helmet again? Hahahaha. I've had my head run over by
Racer X himself, and came out of it without a scratch. Haha-"
Stuntmaster found himself struck all over his body from dozens of billy
clubs that were hurled from the loose sleeves of Daredevil's robes.
Stuntmaster was knocked backward, momentarily stunned by the unexpected
assault.
Spridal gave a sigh of disappointment. It was up to him to save the day. He
turned to his simian companion. "Let's nail the horn-headed freak."
Daredevil barely had time to duck through the broken frame and outside the
bank. He remained behind one of the walls as a hail of gunfire from the
tiny terrors arched his way. Once there was a break in the gunfire,
Daredevil shouted, "Shouldn't you be in school, little boy?"
"Where do you think I scored these guns?" Spridal snapped back, then sent
another burst near Daredevil's location.
As Spridal sprayed the area with gunfire, Stuntmaster had recovered enough
to hear the sounds of sirens nearby. He turned to his brother and pet
monkey. "We're out of here, you two! Hop in the backseat."
"What about the money, Speed?"
"IT'S STUNTMASTER!!!" he snapped back. "We'll get some the next time we
knock over a bank!"
"But I wanna' DVD player!" Spridal wined before Stuntmaster grabbed hold of
both him and Chim Chim by the backs of their collars and tossed them into
the backseat. The moment they hit, Stuntmaster started the engine. With the
push of a button on the steering wheel, a bulletproof plexi-glass shield
came over the top and completely sealed the driver's compartment. The bank
customers dove for cover once again as the Mach 5 turned around in the
lobby and pointed towards the exact path it had come in through.
Daring to look around the corner, Daredevil looked just in time to see the
Mach-5 surge forward towards the opening, using the four automatic jacks
located next to each tire to leap up into the air and through the shattered
windowpane to the street beyond.
Upon landing and steering the Mach 5 in the direction he wanted it to go,
Stuntmaster saw that the police had had enough time to set up twin
barricades that blocked both ends of the road. That earned a sneer from
Stuntmaster as he charged forward towards one set of the police cars.
The touch of a different button caused twin buzzsaws to extend from their
concealed positions in the front of the car. The Mach 5 only slowed down
slightly as the saws tore through the police cars like they were composed
of paper mache. Stuntmaster laughed hard as he sped past the scene of
destruction, looking back over his shoulder so that he could enjoy the
carnage one last time before leaving its sight. As he was still admiring
his handiwork, sounds began to come from the backseat.
"Here he comes. Here comes Speed Racer. He's a demon on wheels."
"SHUT UP!" Stuntmaster bellowed at Spridal and Chim Chim as he considered
throwing them out on general principle.
The Mach 5 turned a corner around the next building, only to see a familiar
red-garbed figure make a swooping pass, using a cable from one of his billy
clubs, a good fifty feet in front of the car. Daredevil continued his arc
as he swung from one building to the next. Stuntmaster was wondering how
Daredevil could have been so far off on his swing when he spotted the
caltrops that were now lying directly in the middle of the street, having
been released by the hero on the 'errant' swing.
Stuntmaster hit the button for the automatic jacks again. There was a loud
bang from the front left tire before the Mach 5 was airborne. It cleared
the remainder of the caltrops easily, but as the car landed Stuntmaster
could feel the damage had been done.
"Spee...I mean Stuntmaster, we're slowing down," Spridal said.
"It can't be helped," Stuntmaster replied as he turned to cut through the
downtown section of Tokyo. The nearest hideout was located no more than
twenty miles away from their current position. Barring the police somehow
having stumbled onto the hideout, they were home free. The only thing that
truly worried Stuntmaster at that point was Daredevil. By swinging from
building to building, and due to the slower speed of the Mach 5 from the
blown out tire, there was an offhand chance he might cause problems again.
To make his path harder to follow, Stuntmaster went down a series of side
streets and alleys. True, it would slow him down further, but losing
Daredevil would make it all worthwhile. He continued down several others
before setting back on his proper course and onto one of the main streets
of downtown Tokyo again. Stuntmaster afforded a glance above to see if
Daredevil was around, but there was no one in sight.
"Ha! We've escaped him. It seems my arch nemesis isn't so smart after all."
Stuntmaster noticed a 'Bridge Is Out' sign in the middle of the street and
followed the detour down the alleyway.
Stuntmaster was still basking in the glory of his escape as he gunned the
engine and hurried to the tunnel ahead. It was odd how the thing was pitch
black though, almost as if all of the lights in the tunnel were burned out,
but then Tokyo street crews had been very lax about their upkeep lately. It
was only as Stuntmaster was ten meters away from the 'tunnel' that he
suddenly realized there were no bridges in the middle of downtown Tokyo.
The sound of a car crashing into an alleyway wall resounded throughout the
area.
Daredevil stood at the top of the building and looked down into the
alleyway below. "I can't believe he fell for that," the hero said as black
paint continued to drip from the paintbrush he still held in his hand. Some
people just were not cut out for the supervillain business.
As Daredevil put the brush and Braille-marked can of black paint back
within the confines of his robes, he focused his radar sense on the
demolished car below. He could sense the strong heartbeats of all three
riders, and that they were currently pinned in the car by the airbags that
had erupted on impact. There were even ones in the backseat, curiously
enough.
The sound of sirens became louder as several police cars pulled into the
mouth of the alleyway. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, and
knew it was almost finishing setting. Deciding to allow the authorities to
mop up, the superhero known as Daredevil, the Man Without Fear, headed
towards a certain pool hall in Nerima, where he was expected by someone
whom it was unwise to disappoint.
"And I bet you she can't make the shot."
The regular patrons of Ohtana's Bar let out a collective sigh. Ohtana
himself, who was busy cleaning a shot glass, looked at the new loudmouth.
The bar owner thought he had overheard the man refer to himself as,
'Bonecrusher' Kyan. "You don't wanna do that. It's not too late to back
down."
"Bullshit! No one can sink all five of those balls in one shot. Not with
the way they're sitting." Bonecrusher spit on the floor at the very idea.
Ohtana wondered if Bonecrusher thought he was being insulting in spitting
on the floor of the dimly lit pool hall. Compared to some of the other
fluids that had ended up on the wooden planks, spit would only add to the
shine. "Stick can do it."
A consensus of "Yeah's" emanated from the bar's patrons.
Realizing he was now the sole center of attention, Bonecrusher gave the
whole crowd a hard stare. Obviously they were trying to have fun at the
newcomer's expense if they thought he was going to buy that story about her
being able to sink that shot. 'Stick' indeed. Looking at her, he wondered
how they could even suggest such a person could do what they claimed.
Bonecrusher noted that the subject of the outrageous claim was a three foot
tall, wrinkly-looking woman that must have been around a hundred years old
and looked more like a troll than a human being. She wore an outfit that
consisted of a long-sleeved, green denim shirt and matching pants that had
almost surely been bought at a children's department store, given their
size. For some odd reason she chose to wear a New York Yankees baseball
cap, under which a held her white hair, save for one long pony-tail that
hung out the back. There was also her annoying tendency to somehow balance
herself on the top of a pool cue, even going so far as hopping around on it
like it was a giant pogo stick. No doubt that was where the nickname of
'Stick' came from.
However her most outstanding feature was her eyes, which were milky white
orbs that no longer had the faintest trace of pupils. Obviously she was
blind, which made the so-called 'joke' even more insulting. The very idea
that a blind person could make the shot the others were proposing was like
a slap in the face to Bonecrusher. Well, he would show them. He would call
their ridiculous bluff and get a hold of some quick cash in the bargain. He
slammed down the ten thousand yen he had wagered, on the pool table.
"Bet accepted," Stick said as she hopped off the top of the pool cue she
had been standing on and landed on the edge along one of the rails of the
pool table. She brought her former perch up and into her hands as she lined
the long shaft up with the cue ball.
"Aren't you going to chalk it up?" Bonecrusher asked, wondering how she
knew which one was the cue ball. She had been standing on the stick since
he had arrived at the bar. The soles of her shoes had to have been in blue.
Stick gave a snort at that. Bonecrusher wondered why he had even bothered
mentioning it. Not all of the chalk in the world was going to help her.
Even if she had not been blind, there was no way on earth that she, or
anyone else for that matter, would have been able to make the five shot
combo with the way the balls were lying on the table. He smirked at the
easy money that was all but already in his hands.
Without looking in Boncrusher's direction, Stick said, "If I were you, I'd
wipe that smirk off your face. You'll look slightly less stupid when you
lose. Not by much, but every little bit helps."
A scowl creased Bonecrusher's features. How did the blind, old piece of
mackerel jerky know he was smiling?
Yawning, Stick drew back on the cue and shot. There was a loud crack as she
hit the cue ball dead on. Even as the balls rolled along the table, she
turned to Bonecrusher and gave him a toothy grin that showed off a perfect,
gleaming smile.
The smile made chills run down the six foot mass of muscle's spine. "What
the hell are you grinning at, you pruney old hag?"
As the last word left his mouth, he heard why. The sound of several balls
dropping into the pockets of the table caught his full attention. Turning
his gaze from the old woman, he watched in mounting horror as the third,
then fourth ball fell into a pocket. There was only one left, the eight
ball, amazingly enough. Slowly, inexorably, it rolled towards the side
pocket nearest to him. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the black ball
drifted to the edge of the pocket. For a moment it sat on the edge of the
black-green precipice, taunting him, showing him how close doom lay, daring
him to speak out in protest, yet Bonecrusher said nothing.
And then the ball stopped.
After a second, Bonecrusher let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank-"
*THUMP*
The table was now bereft of the eight ball, the sound of it rolling out of
sight through the tubes of the table running through everyone's ears.
Pain and suffering cut through Bonecrusher for the briefest of moments,
then those feelings were shoved out of the way by the twin emotions of
anger and denial. "That game was rigged!"
"I play nothing but straight games here!" Ohtana declared, waving the shot
glass he had been cleaning in Bonecrusher's direction as though it were an
accusing finger.
Two steps placed Bonecrusher within arm's length of Stick. "I say the
game's rigged, the old hag ain't really blind, and I'm not paying." He
looked down at the old woman, who had remained exactly in the same spot as
when she had shot the ball, daring her to refute him.
Stick placed a hand inside of the pocket of her pants and came out with a
pipe that seemed longer than what should have fit in a normal pocket. The
moment the pipe touched her lips, smoke began curling from it. For several
seconds she inhaled the smoke, then exhaled. The smoke that came from her
mouth floated above her head, and seemed to Bonecrusher's eyes to form a
sinewy dragon, complete with a smoky version of billowing flames. He
admired the smoke creature for several seconds, until it drifted into his
face and caused him to cough several times.
"Tell you what I'll do," Stick said to the now incensed man. "Double or
nothing that I can take you down in two strikes."
Bonecrusher's anger temporarily left him as disbelief muscled in on the
sudden turn of seemingly good fortune. "You're onUFF!"
A pool cue found its way into his gut, driving the wind out of him. As he
doubled over, the butt end of the stick struck him in the head, rendering
him unconscious as his form sprawled out across the wooden floor, right on
top of the place where he had spit no more than a couple of minutes ago.
"Never try to teach granny how to suck eggs, sonny boy." Stick took
Bonecrusher's wallet out and collected the new amount that was owed to her.
She tossed the wallet back down on his chest. No one in the bar understood
how she knew what the right amount was, but no one questioned how she was
able to do it either. It was just accepted as being the normal way of
things.
Ohtana ordered a couple of his employees to see to it that Bonecrusher was
left in an alleyway several blocks away. There were already enough drunks
in the alley next to the bar anyway. They wouldn't want the additional
company.
"I'm taking the private room," Stick announced as she pogoed on her pool
cue towards the back where the small private pool room was. Ohtana had it
set aside for special events, like when people of dubious distinction chose
to engage in private games of chance. The room was expensive, and no one
was allowed to use it unless they left a deposit first. Except when it came
to Stick, who got to use it whenever she felt like it. Ohtana had always
complied with her wishes, unwilling to risk getting on the diminutive
woman's bad side.
There had been one occasion where someone had protested Stick's use of the
room, claiming he had scheduled it first. The way Stick handled the
disagreement discouraged any others from protesting about time conflicts.
The upside to that was, after that (and several other) incident, no one
screwed around with the bar if they knew Stick was in residence. Unless
they were unaware of her reputation, like Bonecrusher. But they learned in
the end. Eventually they always did.
Perched atop her cue, Stick waited in the pitch darkness for her visitor.
She had told him to meet her by eight o'clock this week, and, thanks to
techniques beyond most others understanding, she knew he had several
minutes left before he would be late. He always enjoyed cutting it close.
Just as she was about to mark him as late and prepared an appropriate
reprimand, a subtle shift in the area alerted her to his presence. He would
come through the back entrance, like he always did, trying to avoid any
obvious connection between her and the masked crimefighter, but there was
always the concern that someone would evade his heightened senses and
observe the two of them talking. But Stick had assured him she would rather
be associated with Daredevil than Mousse, attorney-in-training at large.
Lawyers had such filthy reputations, after all.
Stick used her own heightened senses once again to probe the room and
beyond. There were no irregularities, and no one was close to the thick
door to the room, or hiding near one of the walls. Even if there had been
an electronic surveillance device, she would have felt it -another trick
she had learned over the years- but there was still nothing. Their area was
secure.
She could hear the sound of a window opening on the second floor as he
silently made his way to the back passageway and down to the rear exit of
the room. It took him only a moment to get to the room, his robes rustling
slightly, a very loud noise to Stick.
"You cut that closer than usual," she said as Daredevil closed the door
behind him.
"I was busy. There was a brain-dead wanna-be supervillain I had to deal
with," he said as he stood across Stick, keeping the low table set up in
the middle of the private room between the two of them. "By the way, I
found a use for that 'Bridge Is Out' sign I was carrying around. And you
said it was just a waste of space."
Stick cared little for the tone of voice Daredevil was using with her, a
tone that had made its presence known all too often of late. At times his
pride was a good resource for him to employ, as long as it was kept in
check. Allowed to run loose, it could possibly result in some kind of fatal
consequence. "Just because you've mastered the hidden weapons techniques,
don't assume you can keep the world in your hands, though your upper limits
are impressive."
"You're just jealous because I'm better at it than you ever were."
She was upon him in an instant, before he could react in spite of his
heightened senses. One solid blow from her pool cue and he was hurled
across the room, his flight stopped by an impact into the far wall. The
anger Stick held seemed to disappear as she hopped over to where he had
landed. The masked man was only starting to regain his footing.
"What was that for?!" he snapped, tensing in case there was a follow up to
her attack.
"You needed to be reminded who is the master and who is the student." With
that said, Stick shoulders seemed to slump a little as she gave out a tired
sigh. "Mousse, Mousse, Mousse. What's gotten into you lately?
He brushed free any dirt his red costume might have picked up from his
unceremonious flight. As he spoke, there was an edge of bitterness
remaining in his voice. "I don't know what you mean."
Stick thought the saddest thing of all was that he truly didn't know. This
moment had been building for some time. She debated whether or not to take
the next step on this probably necessary course of action. There was little
choice since it seemed unlikely her prot�g� would come out of it on his
own. Over time he had been getting steadily worse, not better. It was time
to take the chance. "You're lonely, boy."
"I am not!" Daredevil snapped with an anger inappropriate to the
accusation.
Stick suppressed the urge to swat him again; it would do more damage than
good. "Boy, you've been lonely since the day I stumbled on you in that
shelter for Chinese immigrants." That was only partially the truth. She had
gone to that shelter when she had heard someone using a name that she had
abandoned decades ago, having embarked on a different life in these lands
that were so far from the one she could never have gone back to again.
There was an old saying among the Joketsuzoku. When a life can no longer be
lived the way it is, then it is time to cast it, and everything related to,
it aside forever, so that a new one could be chosen. Ku Lon was dead
forever. From the ashes of that dead person's life, Stick arose, and now
had an existence entirely of her own.
When she discovered the blind, five year old boy calling out for her, and
found out where he had originally come from, she knew it had to be some
sort of karma being visited upon her. Two outcasts, so different, yet so
much alike in other ways. His past was dead now too, and Stick took it upon
herself to help show him the way to a new future instead.
Another deep breath followed as she decided on how to best say what she
needed to. "Over the years, I've taken you under my wing, teaching you to
harness your heightened senses, make your body strong and your mind sharp.
You've learned all the lessons I've taught you save one: how to enjoy
life."
"I'm perfectly fine the way I am." The anger in his voice had faded to a
hollow echo of what it once held.
"You are far from 'perfectly fine'," Stick corrected. "In the early days,
you were able to get by without anyone other than myself as a companion. I
had believed that the demons that had been hounding you would be laid to
rest over time. To a degree, that was true. You were able to live and
function among others with little in the way of problems. You've even set
goals for yourself, trying to become a lawyer and even a costumed hero in
order to help others. Truly those are noble goals, but in trying to help
others, you're failing to help yourself."
Stick could hear his pulse quicken and jaws tighten. "I already failed
someone. I'll never fail anyone again. Ever."
Stick sighed. She still was not quite getting through to him. "You have to
let go of the past, Mousse. There's nothing you could have done to save
your village."
"It's not about that!" he snapped back.
His heartbeat jumped slightly, telling Stick that was only partially true.
That was there, eating away at him, but it wasn't the only thing. "Then
it's about that Shampoo girl. Listen to me. You were five years old and
there was nothing in the world you could have done to change what happened.
I searched long and hard for her when you told me what had happened. No one
had ever seen or heard of her, and no one has to this day. You know about
my connections, if she was still alive, I would have found her. She's gone
and you have to bring yourself to let go. Otherwise, this will continued to
eat away at you until there is nothing left."
"I have to put it behind me? You're wrong. It's always going to be with
me." His voice carried little in the way of conviction. All he sounded now
was tired.
There little else she could do for him, so she gave a sad shake of her
head. To push harder would only alienate him from her, and he still
desperately needed her guidance. "You need friends, Mousse. Friends and
someone to love. If you don't, I fear you'll lose everything." She hopped
back up on her cue and turned to go. Just as she was about to leave, she
paused, then decided to take a chance and reveal something for his benefit.
"You're the closest thing to kin I have. I'd rather not lose you."
Daredevil's head jerked slightly. Those were the closest words to affection
he had ever heard from her. His mood improved slightly. To have someone
that was normally as distant as her say something like that could even cut
through the pain of remembering his past. He straightened up slightly, and
there was now a strength returned to his voice. "I'll consider your words.
Right now I have to go. There are some new legal texts that are coming in
and I want to go over them. Same time next week." Without another word he
departed the way he had come in.
As Daredevil left Ohtana's bar, he considered his mentor's words. There was
a void in him that left him unfulfilled. When he helped others, the pain
would go away, but only for brief amounts of time before the loneliness
would take command of his thoughts and remind him of his failure with
Shampoo. He was alone, save for Stick, and as she had said, he had gotten
by with just that, at least until now.
Friends: something he had never allowed himself since that horrible night.
Could he afford to have them? If he did have some, and then failed them too
in some way, it would break him forever. But what was the alternative? Who
was there that could understand what he had gone through?
What was he going to do?
The sun broke through the clouds of the clear afternoon. Soun's hand
tremblied over the postcard that had come in the mail.
Yep. It's that time again.
A cry of "Kasumi!" brought her out of the kitchen and into the living room.
He called out, "Nabiki!" next, followed by a shout for his youngest,
"Akane!" Surprisingly, Akane limped into the room with her cane first, desp
ite having come from the upstairs and being called last. Nabiki still
hadn't arrived.
Before Soun could mutter more than, "I wonder where she is?" Akane
volunteered to get her older sister. She was certain she had heard Nabiki
out behind the dojo.
Sure enough, as Akane passed through the empty hole that had once held a
koi pond (It has still been early in acquiring her powers when she had
flown home and accidentally landed just a little too hard in the pond,
cracking its concrete foundation and ruining it. But she was going to fix
it someday) and entered the small area of the yard behind the dojo she saw
Nabiki was indeed there. Dressed in a black gi, -a color she seemed to
favor the last couple of years- Nabiki was standing up, a small log not
more than a foot in height before her. Raising her hand to the sky, Nabiki
gave a mighty "KIYA!" and brought the edge of her hand down, slicing the
log into two even halves.
"Not bad," Akane said, envy biting at the back of her mind as
recriminations about her injury beckoned to drag her down into depression
once more. "I thought you hated breaking things with the art, though."
"I do," Nabiki said as she sat another small log on its end and shattered
it as well. "I'm only doing this because someone paid me to cut some
firewood for them, and it's easier that using an axe." Nabiki tossed the
final two pieces of wood into a pile where there were close to another
hundred pieces already stacked up.
Akane was offended by the way Nabiki reduced the Anything Goes School of
Martial Arts to nothing more than a profit-making scheme. The art was meant
to be used for its own sake and to help others and teach them how to use
it. At least that was what Akane felt it should be used for. And she would
have used it for that too, if she had known anything more than the most
basic of moves. When she had been growing up, she had loved learning
martial arts. Right after her mother had died, at times it felt like that
was all she had, but the car wreck had taken that away from her. Physically
unable to advance in the art, her father had instead turned to Nabiki, who
was reluctant to learn, but forced to do so for the sake of the family
honor. And it was that fact which made Nabiki so bitter at times, a
bitterness she was only to happy to share with others, never mind the fact
that Akane would have given anything to be able to learn once again.
Some people never learned to appreciate what they had.
Except technically that was no longer true. Now things were different.
Akane could not only move effortlessly, but she was nothing less than power
incarnate. Whereas before she was about skilled enough in the martial arts
to break a pencil, now she was powerful enough to smash a tree into
kindling with one blow. Or at least as Thor she could.
Her heart begged her to soar the skies and fly free. How unfortunate
something seemed to have come up. Perhaps after her father was finished
with whatever it was he wanted to discuss, she could take the opportunity
to leave the house and change.
"What did you want?"
Nabiki's question brought Akane back to the present. "Dad wants us for
something. He called me and Kasumi too."
"Well at least it's not just about me," Nabiki grumbled as she hopped to
her feet and walked back to the house, Akane limping along with her cane
and trying to keep up.
Akane arrived in the room only several seconds after Nabiki. Soun looked
the girls over one last time. For one of them, their life was going to take
a turn for the better. How unfortunate and unfair to the other two girls
that Saotome had only one son, else they could have shared in the joy as
well.
He cleared his throat and began the explanation. "A friend of mine and his
son are coming here today. It's our intention that one of you marries him."
Three simultaneous blinks met him as a response.
Soun cleared his throat once again.
"I said, a friend of mine and his son are coming here today. It's our
intention that one of you marries him."
Each girl blinked twice this time.
For one brief moment, Soun was overwhelmed by the resemblance each girl had
to their late mother. Many years ago, when he had surprised Kitsune by
proposing to her, she had only responded with blinking as well, at least
until the third time he asked. Of course, her response of, "Well, I am
already twenty-five and not married yet, so I guess it's time for me to
settle down and raise a family. Since it doesn't like Ryu's ever going to
propose, I suppose you'll have to do," was just her way of covering up the
raging torrent of love she held for him.
Really.
And now the girls were going to be just as excited as Kitsune had been
since they were about to meet their true destiny as well.
Nabiki lunged across the table and picked Soun up by the collar of his
brown gi. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN ONE OF US IS GOING TO MARRY HIM?!!!"
Yes, Soun thought. Very excited indeed.
Both Akane and Kasumi were of two minds as they watched their middle sister
in action.. True, Nabiki was behaving most improperly by threatening their
father in such a manner. On the other hand, he did deserve it.
"Father, I don't think that's such a good idea," Kasumi said.
"There's no way I'm going to marry some guy I've never even met!" Akane
shouted. The whole situation was ridiculous When she was Thor, she never
had to deal with problems like this. All she had to worry about were thugs
trying to shoot her for messing up crimes and lawyers trying to serve her
legal notices for the property damage that resulted when a fight ensued.
"I've given up my life up for the family's lousy martial arts! There's no
way you're choosing who I'm going to marry as well!" Nabiki continued
shaking Soun by his gi.
"Nonsense," Soun declared once Nabiki stopped shaking him back and forth.
"If I know Saotome, and I do know him well, you'll fall in love with Ranma
the instant you see him. You have to trust your father on this. Ranma will
be an ideal man."
"Nyaaa! You didn't count on my having a shield, did ya' you old hag!" Ranma
taunted at the old lady with the water pail that had nearly splashed him.
As much as he felt the need to taunt her, he had to admit that he would
have ended up soaked had it not been for his shield. At present it was
wrapped up in a plain brown wrapper so that no one could see what it truly
was and identify him from his brief, televised appearance against the Hulk
and the weird metal warcraft that had attacked him. He had taken the
precaution of making holes in the back for the straps to hang loose, so he
could still use it to guard against water, however. His superior reflexes
had enabled him to catch sight of the approaching splash of water and
allowed him to bring his shield up in time to block the incoming attack.
"Nice block, boy," Genma said as he crouched behind Ranma, the older
Saotome's own version of a human shield. After they walked past the water
pail lady, making certain she wasn't tracking them from behind, Genma
relaxed and began to talk again. "I've been giving this upcoming meeting
with Tendou a lot of thought-"
"And decided to call the whole thing off?" Ranma hoped against hope.
"Don't be na�ve, boy." Genma gave his son a comradely slap on the back,
setting Ranma's warning senses off worse than ever. "We're still going to
meet your future wife. No. What I'm concerned about is the curse."
"Then we're going back to China for a cure first?" Ranma hoped against
hope.
"No. There's no time and we don't have any money with which to make the
trip," Genma said. "What I'm concerned about is them finding out about the
curse. You see, if they see Ranma Saotome change from a large, athletic
paragon of heroism into a red-haired girl that is still a paragon of
heroism, and then they see Captain Japan and Bucky running around town,
they just might put two and two together and your secret identity will be
blown. If that happens, then they might let someone else know who you
really are, and then your enemies will come after you in your civilian
identity. Or worse, they might threaten me as leverage against you."
Ranma gave his father a comradely slap on the back, setting off Genma's
warning senses worse than ever. "Not really. You see, pop, there isn't
going to be a secret identity problem, since there isn't going to be a
secret identity. Neither Captain Japan nor Bucky is ever going to be seen
again. It's real simple. No superhero. No problem."
"That's not an option, boy. We promised your mother-"
"No! You promised Mom. I was only five years old at the time and had no
idea of what was going on. No one can hold me up to anything I said back
then. And it's not my fault I've got that super-soldier crap running
through my veins. I am not now nor ever gonna be a superhero." With is
declaration over, Ranma relaxed a little. "Still, I gotta agree with you
about not letting them know about my curse. I don't want them thinking I'm
a freak or something. So here's what we'll do. I'll meet the girls, and
after we get rid of this whole stupid marriage mess thing, we go back to
China, I get a cure, and we go back to mom and explain to her why me trying
to become a superhero just ain't going to work out."
Genma's eyes fairly gleamed with anticipation. "Fine. We'll go to the house
then." And once inside, his fate would be sealed. Ranma would be engaged to
one of the girls, eventually they'd get married, and maybe someday Ranma
could reveal to his wife his dual identity as Japan's foremost superhero.
It was a perfect plan. There was no way anything could go wrong.
"No, and that's final." Nabiki crossed her arms to emphasize the point.
"One of you will marry him. I am your father and will not be denied this."
Soun managed to maintain a bold posture. The unusual show of spine set the
three girls on edge. Especially Nabiki, who recognized it as the same look
she had received when he had announced that she would be the one to carry
on the family's school of martial arts. At least this time there were three
possible scapegoats, instead of just her.
Thinking quickly, Nabiki said, "Akane should marry him. It's not like she's
been dating anyone. So that solves her little problem."
"No way!" Akane was disappointed by Nabiki's turning on her. Disappointed,
but not surprised. "Just because I'm not dating anyone doesn't mean I
should have to marry him."
"With your attitude towards guys? Oh please," Nabiki rolled her eyes,
hoping her father would listen to reason and give the Ranma boy to someone
else.
"What you say does makes sense," Soun said as he focused his gaze on Akane.
Akane began shaking in anger. She should have seen this coming too. "I see
how it is! You're feeling sorry and trying to pawn him off on 'the gimp'
because she can't get a date!"
In response, Nabiki shoved Akane, knocking her from her cross-legged
sitting position to one on the floor. A gasp escaped both Soun and Kasumi
as Akane got back up and grabbed Nabiki by the collar of her gi, just as
Nabiki had done moments earlier to her father.
"What the hell was that for?!"
Nabiki grabbed Akane's wrist and twisted, forcing her to release the hold.
"That was to prove how sorry I feel for you. Don't give me this 'everyone
pity me because I have a limp' crap. It doesn't work on me. You have plenty
of guys after you, but you keep ignoring them or pushing them away."
Akane moved closer, getting right up into Nabiki's face while making sure
not to actually touch her. "I have no idea of what you mean."
Nabiki began counting on her fingers. "Let's see. How many guys have tried
to pay me money to fix them up on a date with you? There's Hiroshi.
Daisuke. Yoshi. Tetsuo-"
"They're all just boys!" Akane snapped as she started to involuntarily
blush, though it was masked by her anger at the whole situation. "I hate
boys."
"I'm certain this Ranma is a man among men," Soun said, hoping to calm him
daughters down.
"Well if he's mature, then Kasumi should marry him. She's always going on
about how she likes mature men." Akane officially turned the tables by
pointing at her oldest sister.
"This is true," this time Soun's gaze turned to Kasumi as he considered her
as Ranma's prospective bride.
Kasumi was caught off guard by the sudden turn of events. It took her a
moment to compose herself and say, "But you said this boy is only sixteen
years old, Father. I doubt if he's very mature, and there's such an age
difference."
"Mr. and Mrs. Godai are happily married and she's older than him by about
three years." Akane pointed out, satisfied that her father's attention had
drifted to another target.
Seeing her father's brows knit further in consideration, Kasumi realized
she had to move fast. "But the purpose of the marriage is to unite the two
schools. Since Nabiki is the one that's studying martial arts, I think it
would be ideal for her to marry him."
Sweat began pouring from Nabiki's brow as she realized the tables had now
been turned on her and her father was now seriously considering putting her
up for sale. Her mind raced as she contemplated how to make him reconsider
one of the other girls. Before she could give any further gems of wisdom
about making Akane being the perfect choice, there was a knock from the
front door of the house. Soun got up to answer it, leaving the sisters to
discuss matters among themselves.
Akane and Nabiki glared while Kasumi opted for a more fretful look. No
words were needed as a mutual 'No Way!' was communicated among the girls in
the manner that only sisters that had grown up their whole lives together
could employ.
They were still staring at one another, not bothering to look up, as Soun
entered the room with two visitors. "Girls. I want you to meet my old
friend, Genma Saotome and his son, Ranma."
All three sets of eyes, two of them half-lidded and one a bit frightful,
turned to see the target that had already been dubbed, 'The Guy Someone
Else is Going to Marry.'
Three sharp intakes of breath followed as said eyes widened in surprise at
the sight before them.
He was a five foot eleven inch, two hundred and twenty pound youth that was
more man than boy. A broad chest and powerful arms and legs could be made
out even under the loose red and black Chinese style outfit he wore.
Handsome features and black hair tied into a tiny pigtail completed his
look.
Nabiki was the first to recover. Okay, so the guy was a hunk. That didn't
mean she wanted to marry him. He was probably as dumb as a brick anyway.
"Well, Akane. Ranma looks pretty manly to me."
That shook Akane out of her stupor. Fine, so the guy was rather large and
not entirely bad-looking. That meant he was probably as sensitive to
other's needs as a rock, and not at all understanding and kind the way Dr.
Tofu was. "Hey, Kasumi. He looks pretty mature to me."
That shook Kasumi out of her own reverie. It was true he did appear quite
mature for his age, at least physically, and he was a bit taller than her
even though he was younger, which was nice, but he was still only sixteen
years old. Even if she had not been dating lately, that didn't mean she
wanted an arranged marriage. "He does appear very powerful and is most
likely very proficient at martial arts, doesn't he, Nabiki?"
Ranma looked from one girl to the other as each spoke in turn, saving them
the problem of formally introducing themselves. Listening to the girls go
on about his characteristics, Ranma realized he should have anticipated
this happening. It was so blatantly obvious that he could scarcely believe
he overlooked such a basic fact.
Of course if they had the opportunity to marry a hunk like him they were
all going to go along with it.
He internalized a sigh as the girls began to get louder as they lauded on
about all of his irresistible qualities.
"So which one do you want, Ranma?" Soun asked as he waved his hands towards
his still arguing daughters.
Ranma wanted to shake his head since he had no intention of actually
marrying any of them. Still, he didn't want to hurt their feelings either,
and he had to say something to get both his father and Mr. Tendou off his
back. It took him a couple of moments to come up with a plan of action
which would relax the girls while not singling out any one of them out, or
worse, lead them on.
Listening to the characteristics each girl seemed most interested in, Ranma
replied, "I'd have to say that Akane appears very womanly, Kasumi very
mature, and Nabiki very powerful as well."
The girls broke off their conversation and blushed at the compliments.
Although, deep down inside, each felt a little disappointment that he had
not singled her out as the best and most obvious choice, even if they had
no intention of marrying him.
"All too true," Soun said as both he and Genma nodded their heads in
approval. Their plan to unite the families was proceeding just as they had
hoped. "They're all perfect choices. No matter which one you choose, you'll
be a happy man. So which one is it?"
Ranma began to sweat a little. He hadn't thought they'd be quite this
pushy. They seemed intent on not even giving him a minute of rest. "Well,
since they're all so, ahh, wonderful, that makes the decision tough." Ranma
placed his hand to his chin in mock thought. "Since this is going to affect
me for the rest of my life, it ain't the sort of thing a guy should rush.
So I'm going to take a little time to decide."
"Of course, of course," Genma said soothingly, proud that his son was at
last living up to his responsibilities. "You can have until tomorrow."
Or several years, or even never Ranma thought to himself. Let his father
talk all he wanted. There was no way he was going to be making any
decisions tomorrow. Or the day after that or the day after that or even the
week after that. If he waited long enough, the problem would take care of
itself.
Wouldn't it?
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sorry if this seemed a bit abrupt of an ending for the chapter, but what is
to follow is going to follow seemed a bit to big to add on to this chapter.
Hopefully will get to it before too long.
D.B. Sommer