On Sat, 12 Feb 2000, Jed M Bidwell wrote:
That night, so long ago, was my birth, my baptism by fire. I guess
you could call me the kid's release valve. By himself, he wouldn't have a
chance in hell of seeing justice done. That's why he has me.
What, the salary man is Ranma's trigger? That's what it looks like.
You're pulling this statement from thin air.
I glance at the luminous face of the watch, one I filched from a
pusher a few weeks back.
Filched implies stolen without the pusher's knowledge. This Ranma seems
like he would have used more violent methods to obtain the watch.
Some of the streetlamps are busted, what few left struggling to
hold the night at bay.
Awkward.
It's a place where you'll find dope more easily scored, hookers more
blatant in peddling their wares, and violent crimes more frequent. It's also
where I'm gonna find my next targets.
Of course, Japan's rate of violent crimes is far lower than here. So, I'm
having trouble with that fact, and this picture you're trying to paint of
blatent violation of the law.
I lovingly stroke the cold metal of the Benelli M39 pump-action
sawed-off I keep tucked away. This thing's a monster at close range, and I
intend to get very close. The leaf blades are strapped to my stomach beneath
the coat, with an entire arsenal of other blades and spare ammo for the
shotgun and Sig tucked away in the sleeves.
In a country where guns are illegal, just where the hell did Ranma get all
this? No, he doesn't have connections, since you said that it's before he
learned the Chestnut Fist. He hasn't had time to get them, since he's
been moving around his whole life.
He's high as a Virginia pine, from the way his bloodshot eyes
keep passing over me.
Never heard the term 'Virginia pine' used before, and I've lived on the
East Coast my whole life, relatively close to Virginia. Why is someone
who lives in Japan using this term?
Nobody's in the shadowed utility room, the muted noise from upstairs helping
mask my presence. They don't know I'm here, and that suits me fine. The
longer I can go without breaking out the Benelli, the better. I never liked
running gun battles, having survived my fair share of them.
Okay, from this last line, I see that when Ranma said 'I'm done waiting'
he just meant today. It was unclear. You might want to modify the
above with this in mind.
This still doesn't explain how he obtained the guns. With all his moving
around all the time, he can't build up enough trust to have a supplier.
And I don'tthink RAnma could carry all those weapons that you've
described, -and- a healthy amount of ammo, all without his father
noticing.
They make their toxins in their, mixing chemicals in a haphazard lab to
Second their = there.
"PUT HIM OUT! SAVE THE MONEY!" I agree, but not in that order. I
leap out from behind the table, charging toward the toppled case. I see the
shadow of a man running toward me, and a backhand puts him out cold. No need
to waste him, the fire'll take care of that.
The shout of 'Put him out!' made me think at first that someone was on
fire. Perhaps 'Take him out' (of action) would be a better term?
Well, that's enough for now, I think. Questions? Comments? Love to
hear 'em!
Yah, a question. Just how many "Ranma kills lots of people.' fics have
you started now? ^_^
Later!
-Natsume Ranma Ranma
-------
The sardines weren't worth the trouble. A few more shots, then
Ryoga-san would overheat and explode. Ducking around a corner,
I managed to lose him as I entered the ramshackle residence of
my Anime supplier.
One look at his face and I knew that I had been betrayed. "Tell me,"
I insisted. He refused, so I slammed him against the wall.
"Last chance. Where can Ranma-Ranma find good fanfics?"
"Try Jason Liao," he whispered, before he slumped to the floor.
I heard the sounds of a door splintering as I left through the
window, one step ahead of Tendo Heavy Industries...