Hello again. :)
Well, my muse has been whispering sweet nothings into my ear as of late,
and it's paying off. Some of you may recall that I started this around six
months ago, give or take, and never went anywhere with it.
It's been percolating in my mind all that time, and I've finally reached
a point where I think I can actually write it this go-around. Some things
have changed.
Timeline-wise, this should be considered a Ranma alterverse, set after
vol. 38 (well after!), and a Matrix alterverse, set during the battle
between the humans and the AI that the movie hinted at. This is a fusion,
not a crossover, and I may play fast and loose with the rules from time to
time - call me on it if you have an issue. :)
WARNING: this can get pretty graphic in spots (violence). You Have Been
Warned.
C&C desperately wanted! Lemme know what you think, folks - please!
Brian Payne
sofaspud@sofaspud.org
http://www.sofaspud.org
----------------------
DISCLAIMERS:
Ranma 1/2 is the property of Rumiko Takahashi and others. No
infringement is intended or should be inferred.
The Matrix is the property of Warner Bros. and others. No infringement
is intended or should be inferred.
----------------------
The Reality War
Draft Chapter One
Hikaru Gosunkugi winced as his moped crashed through a particularly
large pothole, rattling the expensive camera tucked into his pack. He
didn't slack off on the throttle, though, and the little machine's insistent
buzz echoed off the quiet buildings along the narrow street. The radio
scanner clipped to his belt chirped noisily into his ear from time to time
as he negotiated the narrow concrete canyon.
The police call had sounded innocent- a routine pickup and hold of a
suspect- but something bugged him about it. The dispatcher's voice seemed
too tense, maybe... or the sheer number of units directed to respond,
perhaps....
He shook his head. No sense in worrying about it until he got there.
The door crashed open, slamming against the wall and rebounding almost
into the face of the police officer that had kicked it in. He ignored it as
he leapt into the room, gun drawn, to land in a semi-crouch. Five of his
buddies crashed through the door behind him. All of them leveled their
weapons at the back of the young girl seated before a desk with a laptop
computer open on it, providing the only light in the otherwise bare room.
"Hands up! Don't move!"
Aren't those orders self-defeating? thought Xian Pu wryly as she slowly
raised her hands above her head.
"Stand up!"
She stood.
"Don't move," the police officer warned again as he holstered his weapon
and, after receiving a nod from his partners, approached the girl. The
other officers spread out a bit more to keep a clear line of fire.
Xian Pu waited calmly. She could almost taste the nervousness emanating
from the officer approaching her from behind. She heard the ring of metal
on leather - handcuffs, she surmised - followed by a hand grabbing her
wrist.
Time to go to work, she thought, and sprang into action.
The officer behind her was the first to die, the cartilage in his nose
shoved knifelike into his brain. Xian Pu grabbed his shirt before he could
fall and used him as a shield as the other officers opened fire. The chair
she'd been sitting in flew through the air in response to her kick,
disarming another officer, and she drew the gun of the one who she'd killed
first. The world slowed to a crawl around her as she shifted into high
gear. It was as if she had all the time in the world to jump, draw her legs
up under her in perfect form, and lash out with a flying snap kick that sent
another officer out the door and through the boarded-up window directly
across the hall.
"I'm telling you, my men can handle it. What can one little girl do,
anyway?"
The agent sighed. It was a purely human mannerism, to be sure, but it
seemed to help on those occasions when he couldn't simply dismember the
human annoying him. Like now. Stupid *human*, he thought disgustedly,
twisting the word into an insult in his mind.
"Your men are already dead, captain. We told you to wait until we
arrived."
"What do you mean, my men are already--"
The crash of a body tumbling through a window far above broke off his
sentence. The captain stared in shock as the body twisted in midair, then
slammed to a brutal stop on top of a squad car. The scream that had barely
started to register in his ears choked off.
The agent turned to the captain once more, his face a mask of innocence.
"We'll take it from here, captain."
All three of the agents looked at each other for a moment, then turned
and walked into the condemned hotel. Captain Thorpe glared after them, then
looked at the body of his man again.
"Goddamn that girl," he growled, then turned to his second. "I don't
care what those feds say. Take a squad and nail that bitch. I'll take a
couple men around to the back just so she can't get out that way. Move."
"You got it."
Xian Pu ducked under a wild swing, then planted her fist forearm-deep in
the cop's belly. He whuffed and fell back, gasping. She blacked his lights
with a swift kick, then straightened up and looked around.
Bullet holes lined the walls. Three of the original six officers were
dead, two were lying unconscious on the floor, and the last was - oh, the
window was broken out. He was probably dead too, then.
Xian Pu sighed and relaxed from her fighting stance. Killing wasn't
something she enjoyed, although she could see the necessity. She discarded
the gun she still held, eyeing the weapon with faint disgust. She hated
guns, but sometimes they were necessary.
Time to go, she thought, and ducked out the door. As she turned to face
the stairs, she froze.
A man in a black suit and tie, wearing sunglasses and with a small
earplug in one ear, had appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked at
her, and there was nothing human in his expression.
"Aiya..." Xian Pu breathed, then turned and ran the other way. I did
NOT need this, she thought desperately as the agent lumbered into a run
behind her. Fast as she was, she could still tell from the echoes that her
pursuer was gaining steadily.
Gosunkugi hated being afraid of heights. They were often the only way
to get the best pictures, though, and so he braved them. But it still
didn't make him like it when the only way to get the shot he wanted - the
shot that would make the most money - required him to peer over the edge of
a building.
Like now.
Gosunkugi desperately clung to the fragment of railing with one hand as
his upper torso projected past the edge. Blue lights flashed incessantly,
illuminating his pale face every few seconds. He had no worries about being
seen; even if the cops below were to look up at his position, the gunshots
he'd heard indicated, to him at least, that they had much better things to
do than worry about a nosy photographer.
His shoes scrabbled uselessly against the roof, and he tried to ignore
the wind that seemed to want to pick him up and toss him to his death. He
almost had the shot... just a few seconds more....
A loud crash from behind almost made him lose his grip, and with it, his
life. He pushed himself back onto the roof, rising to his knees and panting
with reaction to the sudden terror. Running footsteps made him glance up.
"Shampoo?" he murmured, watching the Amazon fly across the roof as
though the devil himself was after her. A moment later, a man in black
appeared, pounding after the fleeing girl. Gosunkugi started to say
something, then thought better of it. That guy looked mean!
So he waited, and watched.
Xian Pu didn't notice the pale young man as she ran by him, not more
than ten feet away. Even if she had, she wouldn't have cared. As her foot
touched the edge of the roof, she shifted her weight, reached deep inside
like she'd been taught since she was a child, flicked her ankle, and flew.
She landed on the roof of the building across the street, some hundred
feet or so away.
Without a pause, the agent followed. Xian Pu rolled to her feet and
resumed running as the man in black landed, one knee coming down to crack
the roof as he did so. He rose and drew a large gun from a shoulder holster
inside his jacket, then strode purposefully off after the girl, who had
disappeared from sight amongst the turbine ventilators, blacked-over
skylights, and air conditioners that dotted the asphalt roof.
Gosunkugi desperately slid down the fire escape. His normal fear of
heights was on hold, held back by the thrill of the chase. He hated not
being able to jump like those two had, but he couldn't, and so he followed
as best he could on the ground. He wasn't too impressed with Shampoo's
jump - after all, he'd seen Ranma and that weird boy with the bandannas do
the same thing, back in high school. But he'd never seen someone as large
as the guy in the suit do that. And he couldn't understand why Shampoo was
running instead of beating the tar out of him.
His well-trained sense of caution was in overdrive, but he didn't care.
If the guy in black was dangerous enough to scare Shampoo, then he was
dangerous enough to be newsworthy. Newsworthy photos meant money. And
Gosunkugi's rent was due.
Xian Pu ducked around the corner, panting. She had to rest for a
moment. She couldn't hear the agent following her anymore, but she knew he
couldn't be THAT far behind. She needed an exit.
It was at times like these that she thanked that blind idiot Mu Tsu. He
was always hitting on her and proclaiming his love - which got annoying -
but even she had to admit that no one was better than Mu Tsu at subtle
manipulations of the matrix. Learning how to actually use them from him had
been tedious, but Xian Pu had to admit, the ability had come in handy on
more than one occasion.
A quick flick of the wrist, a bit of concentration, and a cellphone
dropped into her hand, apparently from a sleeve far too small to have
concealed it.
In actuality, the sleeve *was* too small, but she had learned that it
was best not to worry about details like that.
She dialed quickly, then waited.
"Operator," came the somewhat tinny voice from the phone.
"Shampoo need exit. Fast." She winced. She hated the way she sounded
when she spoke this language.
"Right. Hold on." Short pause. "Two blocks north, under the bridge.
Better hurry."
"Going," she said, and closed the phone. Sighing, she made it
disappear, then took several deep breaths and began to run again.
He was crossing the street towards where he'd stashed his moped when he
nearly lost his life.
Gosunkugi barely dodged the mammoth garbage truck as it slewed sideways
around the corner. He left his shoe behind, and from where he lay in the
gutter watched it get crushed under multiple tons of machine. The driver
didn't seem to notice him, and the truck skidded to a halt with the
headlights illuminating a dilapidated phone booth. From his prone position
Gosunkugi had a perfect view of a curious standoff.
Shampoo was standing at the corner nearest the booth. She was breathing
hard, and her eyes flicked back and forth between the booth and the big
machine. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she eased her weight to her rear
foot and dug in for a quick takeoff. Gosunkugi sucked in his breath
sharply. She'll never make it, he thought, and then he began to wonder why
she was trying to get to, of all things, a *phone booth*, in the first
place.
The man driving the rig revved the engine, as if daring the
purple-haired Amazon to make her move.
The phone began to ring.
Shampoo straightened up, a determined look crossing her face. Gosunkugi
could practically read her thoughts: I am an Amazon; I do not give up.
Without sparing another glance at the truck, Shampoo broke into a sprint.
He could tell she was pushing herself to the limit.
The man in black let a feral grin cross his face and gunned it.
Gosunkugi remained where he was. He wasn't about to get himself crushed
by that truck. Almost of it's own volition, his hand wrenched his camera
upwards, his finger stabbing desperately at the button. The camera began
clicking and whirring rhythmically, snapping picture after picture of the
scene in front of him. As Shampoo approached the booth, and the truck
approached her, Gosunkugi closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the
carnage as her body was smashed by the monolithic vehicle, not in person,
not like this.
An earsplitting crash and the scream of tortured metal and glass rocked
his hearing. When the noise had abated, Gosunkugi wearily rose to his feet
and limped away, pushing his moped dejectedly. Shampoo hadn't exactly been
a friend, but she hadn't been an enemy either, and he had felt a curious
kinship with her - her relationship with Ranma had been a near mirror of his
own non-relationship with Akane.
Ranma. He deserved to know. While Gosunkugi had never liked the guy,
he had to admit that Akane seemed happy with him, and that was what
mattered. The way Gosunkugi understood it, Ranma had defeated Shampoo in
combat, or something, and that meant the Amazon had to marry him - or was it
kill him?
At any rate, neither had happened. He wasn't sure why, but he did know
that it had something to do with that old lady who ran the restaurant
Shampoo worked at. She deserved to find out too; from, if not a friend,
then at least a somewhat-acquaintance.
Gosunkugi knew he was a rarity, in this day and age - a photojournalist
with a conscience. His sometimes-editor Katsuragi kept telling him it'd be
the death of him, someday.
Tomorrow, Gosunkugi thought. Tomorrow, I'll tell them.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Sleepily, the man rolled over and swiped the handset from its' cradle
beside his futon. He cleared his throat and answered the phone with a
half-mumbled, "Hello?"
"This one was too close. She nearly died tonight," said the dry, reedy
voice on the other end of the line.
Sleep was forgotten. "Is she alright?"
"Yes, she only sustained minor injuries. She must not be lost. Not
yet, at least."
"The risk was necessary. We need the information."
"Not at the expense of her life. I'm warning you - if she dies, our
alliance dies with her."
The man sighed. "Yes, of course. I apologize."
"You will be more careful in the future."
"You have my word."
A dry chuckle whispered over the line. "From a man that would be
laughable, were it anyone but you. Goodnight."
Gosunkugi blearily eyed the clock, then shook his bangs out of his eyes
and bent over the solution tray again. Four in the morning, and here he was
in his closet of a darkroom, breathing trippy fumes from the solutions in
the trays and banging his head on the low shelves.
He'd tried sleeping, several times. Each time he drifted off, his
dreams melted into a blurry, frightening nightmare involving the night's
events, and Shampoo's broken hands reaching up for him from a sea of blood.
Just as she grabbed him, begging him to help her, dragging him down with
her, he woke up.
He shuddered, then swished the film again.
He knew the dream was just that - a dream, nothing more. He knew that
he couldn't have done anything to save her life - he wasn't a martial
artist, like she was. But his mind wouldn't let him rest.
Oh, yeah, you're a REAL big man, Gos. You let her die without even
raising a finger.
He swished the film again.
So here he was, not sleeping, developing film because he had nothing
better to do and something worse to avoid.
He shook his bangs out of his eyes again, then slipped the developed
picture out of the solution tray, rinsed it, and clipped it up to dry with
the rest. He barely glanced at it before starting on the next one.
As he was finishing that picture, something about the last one he'd done
nagged him. He slugged back the last of his coffee and tugged a magnifying
glass out from under a stack of old, useless photos. He peered through it
at each picture in the series.
"What in the hell?" he muttered to himself as he looked at the
third-to-last photo. Something must have fouled the lens; Shampoo's legs,
which should - like everything else in the frame - have been brightly
illuminated by the headlights of the oncoming truck, were pale and - no.
How in the world had a portion of the back wall of the booth been
superimposed over her legs?
Frowning, Gosunkugi grabbed the last three pictures off the drying line
and turned to his cutting bench, and the larger, more powerful magnifying
glass mounted on it.
The first picture showed the same image as he'd seen with his small
glass, but in more detail. Shampoo's legs had disappeared, and left a
distorted image of the wall behind them in their place - one much like the
sort of image you get when you look at something through a water glass, he
mused. The second picture continued the process with her torso and arms,
and the last...
Gosunkugi blinked, then rubbed his eyes and sighed. No way. Either he
was certifiably insane, or Shampoo had pulled a now-you-see-me-now-you-don't
act in the phone booth while a multi-ton death machine was bearing down on
her. The last image was, he supposed, a logical continuation of the other
two. Somehow, in the time it took his camera to snap three frames, she'd
faded away, and the last frame he had was of an empty phone booth starting
to collapse under the impact of a garbage trucks front bumper.
The handset was still hanging in the air.
Gosunkugi shook his head one more time, then turned back to his solution
trays. Just to make sure, he'd run another set. If that one turned out the
same... well, he didn't want to think about that.
Idly, he wondered what Katsuragi would think of the photos.
Xian Pu yelped involuntarily as her great-grandmother jabbed both sides
of her leg, high up on the thigh. Immediately, the pain from her slashed
calf spiked, then subsided in a wave of warmth.
"Aaah..." Xian Pu breathed, relaxing back into the chair. "That feels
SO much better."
"It won't last long, child. Mu Tsu, clean and bind her leg. And wear
your glasses! The stitches need to be straight." Khu Lon eyed her young
charges carefully. "I will be back soon. Much about tonight should not
have happened, and we need to find out why it did." With that, Khu Lon
turned and hobbled out of the room, easing the big steel door almost shut as
she did. A slim crack was all the space that remained.
Xian Pu rotated her head, trying to ease muscles long stiff from
tension. In the quiet of the room, she could hear Mu Tsu's breathing and
the soft rustling of the gauze as he wrapped her calf. Thank the gods for
great-grandmothers pressure points, she thought. I didn't even notice the
stitches.
"Xian Pu?" Mu Tsu's soft voice floated out of the dark.
"Yes?"
"Why must you do this?"
Xian Pu frowned. "Do what, Mu Tsu?"
"Run the matrix. Fight the agents. Be... be hurt."
Xian Pu sighed and stood up, ignoring Mu Tsu's startled yelp as her knee
brushed his chin. He was done wrapping her leg and had merely been keeping
his hands there to enjoy himself, she could tell. "Because, Mu Tsu, I am
what I am. I am an Amazon, and we honor our debts."
"But... you know I couldn't stand to see -"
"Enough, Mu Tsu! I have told you many times that I do not return your
affection. You would do better to find someone who will." Xian Pu glared
at him in the dark. If he weren't so useful in the Matrix, where his goofy,
lovesick attitude was replaced by a professional, hardened one, she'd
probably have simply killed him by now.
No. He, however poor a specimen, was an Amazon too, and Amazons did not
kill one another without proper reason. She could dream about it, though...
The steel door swung open, derailing her train of thought. Silhouetted
in the doorway stood a familiar figure.
"Go to bed, you two," said Khu Lon, amusement heavy in her tone. She
stood aside as they filed out. "We've got an early day tomorrow, and it's
going to be a long one as well. You'll need your rest."
Morning found Gosunkugi stretched out on his futon with a sheaf of
photos clutched in one hand. He was still wearing the same wrinkled, musty
clothes that he'd been wearing the previous night, but the smile on his face
was new. As the late morning sun arced higher, beams of bright light angled
through the blinds on his windows. A shaft of sunlight struck Gosunkugi
full in the eyes, and he flinched violently, rolling over and blinking in
sudden wakefulness.
"Huh?" he muttered, trying to get his bearings. A few moments of
confusion, and then -
"Shampoo!" Frantically, he scanned around him for the photos, only
relaxing when he realized he was holding them in his hand. As he looked
over the enlarged photos he'd made, the smile on his face took on larger and
larger proportions. He'd always known that the world was a strange,
wonderful place, and that some people could touch that strangeness. He'd
never honestly believed - even in his most zealous voodoo phases - that he
could be one of them. But now... now he had proof of it. He knew someone
who could, and he KNEW that she was still alive.
All he had to do was find her.
Carefully, he laid the photos on his bed, then jumped up and dashed into
the kitchen area of his small apartment. Coffeemaker - on. Cereal, milk in
the fridge - ah, screw it. Pop tarts into the toaster - check.
While the coffee was brewing and the pop tarts toasting, he hurried
through a shower. He could smell the sweet aroma of pure Colombian as he
finished shaving, and, pausing only to fill his thermos, he swept up the
photos, the pop tarts, and his camera bag and was out the door.
Scant seconds later, the door flew open again and Gosunkugi darted
through, shutting it quickly but gently behind him and throwing the
deadbolt.
"Oh, the landlord just HAD to be out there right now, didn't he?" he
griped to himself as he slid open the apartment's outer window. Luckily,
the sour-faced old man hadn't seen him. He hoped. He ducked through the
window - easy for someone his size - then carefully closed it again and
tugged on the string that he'd rigged to pull the lock into place.
"Note to self," he muttered as he worked his way down the fire escape.
"Take some pictures you can sell to Katsuragi today."
The ringing of a phone shattered the silence of an otherwise bare back
room. Dust, shaken loose from the phone by its vibrations, rose and settled
in the thick air. As the phone rang a third time, something changed.
Air shimmered and twisted, distorting the wall behind it like a fun
house mirror. Characters that would have made a programmer sit up and take
notice crawled across a space that was both there and not-there at the same
time, and with a bright, soundless flash, Xian Pu appeared next to the
ringing phone. The procedure repeated itself twice more, depositing Mu Tsu
and Khu Lon respectively. Almost as an afterthought, the phone rang again
and Khu Lon's staff dropped into her hand.
The wizened old matriarch looked around, then nodded and picked up the
phone. "We're in," she rasped. "Monitor us and warn us if anything
happens."
"Will do, Matriarch. Rendezvous scheduled at twenty-one thirty. Out."
Khu Lon hung up the phone and turned to her charges. "Be careful, you
two. One of the organizations we deal with has a leak, and we don't know
who it is yet. Now, go."
Mu Tsu and Xian Pu looked at each other, then back at Khu Lon, and
nodded. Without a word, each of them left the building and made their way
to their respective stations.
Khu Lon closed her eyes and sighed. She had her suspicions about the
leak, but it wouldn't do to reveal them yet. And, if the auspices were
correct, revealing the leak now would do more harm than good.
Opening her eyes, Khu Lon summoned her willpower and modified the
matrix. Her body - rather, her mind's image of her body - altered. Muscle
tone and reflexes shot through the roof, agility and dexterity as well.
Only her looks remained the same.
Grinning to herself - she loved the way it felt when she was in the
matrix - Khu Lon perched on her staff and bounded away. It was almost time
to open the restaurant, and it wouldn't do to be late, after all.
INCOMING CALL
RING
RING
DESCRAMBLER ACTIVATED
VOICE ANALYSIS MODULE ACTIVATED
CALLER IDENTIFIED - ALLY 85-107
INITIATING VOCAL RESPONSE MODULE
"I'm ready to make my report." (TRUE)
"Go ahead, eight-five."
"The subject is not suspicious of our activities. He does not possess
knowledge of the real nature of his reality." (TRUE)
"What of your relationship with him?"
"That's a... more serious matter. I'll be able to pull off the
assignment, if that's what you're asking." (UNCATEGORIZABLE - EMOTIONAL
RESPONSE OUT OF RANGE; SARCASM?)
"... We have some concerns-"
"Such as?" (QUERY; GUARDED?)
"His current situation."
"I can handle that." (TRUE)
"Very well, eight-five. We'll expect your next report in one week."
"What about my... request?" (QUERY; HOPEFUL?)
"It will be in the usual place."
CALL TERMINATED 11:01:53.02
MATRIX INSERTION COMPLETE
"Dammit, Chief, four of my men are DEAD, and the perp isn't anywhere to
be found! Why aren't we investigating it?"
"Sit down, Thorpe."
Glaring, fists clenched so tight his nails were all but drawing blood,
Thorpe sat down in the chair the chief had indicated. His temples were
pounding so hard he could barely hear the chief's next word.
"Jurisdiction."
Thorpe exploded. "Jurisdiction! What the hell are you talking about?
We were -" he broke off, took a deep breath. "I'll investigate it myself,
in my off hours. You've got to give me that much, Chief. Give *them* that
much."
"Thorpe, drop the subject, or drop your badge. Your choice." The tone
was flat, resigned. Thorpe could read the pain in his chief's eyes, and the
steel-hard resolve just in front of it. Wearily, he slumped back and tried
to relax.
"Yes, sir," he acknowledged, closing his eyes in defeat.
The chief nodded slowly. "Glad that you're still with us." He paused.
"Thorpe, you're one of the best on the force. I make allowances because of
that." He leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk and rising from
his chair. "Now get the hell out of my office, take the rest of the day
off, and don't be late for the funeral tomorrow. Got it?"
Despite himself, Thorpe smiled, but it was a hollow smile, full of
bitterness. "Yes, sir."
It wasn't until he was halfway home that Thorpe realized the chief had
never denied him permission to investigate the incident in his off-duty
hours.
Why, that sly old bastard...
Grinning grimly, he began planning his next move. The first thing to do
would be to find that photographer - he didn't know who it was, but
*somebody* had been snapping pictures while they were all gathered in front
of the hotel. He remembered the flashes.
After that... well, he'd burn that bridge when he came to it.
The Nekohanten. A more wretched hive of scum and villainy - oh, stop
it, Gos. You're just nervous.
Squaring his shoulders, Gosunkugi strode through the door and into the
restaurant. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimmer light, and when
they cleared, he was face to face with a troll.
"Gaaah!" he yelped, jumping back. His feet caught on each other and he
tripped, and the world whirled around him. When everything steadied, he
found himself sitting in a chair at a table and wondering just what had
happened.
"I know I'm old, sonny, but I'm not THAT old," said the troll.
Gosunkugi blinked at it and realized that it must be that Cologne woman.
She looked a lot younger from a distance, he thought dazedly.
"Um... are you Cologne?" he asked hesitantly.
"I am. Welcome to the Nekohanten."
"I, uh... thanks. Is - is Shampoo here?"
Cologne raised her eyebrow. "My great granddaughter? I'm afraid not.
Her shift doesn't begin until noon."
Damn, thought Gosunkugi. Do I tell her what I saw, or wait and see of
Shampoo shows up, or... aargh!
He looked up and realized that the old woman had moved off to greet
another customer. A menu lay on the table in front of him. Sighing, he
picked it up and leafed through it. Something small, something
inexpensive...
Do they have anything besides ramen? he wondered briefly.
"Ready to order, young man?"
"Um... sure. I'll have that," he said, pointing. Cologne nodded, took
the menu, and bounded off.
Gosunkugi settled in to wait.
"There's something strange about that boy," Khu Lon mused to herself as
she deftly shredded ingredients for the pot. As she stirred the sauce, she
snuck discreet glances at him. He was fidgeting, and kept looking over his
shoulder and around the restaurant as if he expected someone to creep up
behind him any second.
The one thing that she was sure of was that he was no martial artist.
The way he'd tripped...! She'd had to remind herself that it wasn't good
for business to laugh at the customers.
A plaintive 'maiiiow' from the back door caught her attention. Khu Lon
sighed, then wiped her hands on her apron and went to let Xian Pu in,
grabbing a kettle from the stove on her way.
"Goodness, child. What was it this time?" Khu Lon asked as she
carefully poured some hot water on the cat. As always, the transformation
from cat to girl shocked her senses. She could only imagine how much more
intense the sensation must be for the curse victim.
"I changed intentionally, great-grandmother. It is much easier to stalk
someone as a cat than as a person."
"Hmm... I can imagine. Very well. Get cleaned up and dressed for
work."
A few minutes later, Xian Pu and Khu Lon met in the kitchen.
"Tell me, girl - do you know that young man?" Khu Lon said, indicating
Gosunkugi.
Xian Pu frowned, eyeing the individual in question. Thoughtfully, she
tapped on finger on her chin, then suddenly brightened. "Yes! He went to
high school with Ranma." Her face darkened again, brows coming together in
an angry frown. "And Akane."
"She is not yours to take, Xian Pu." Privately, Khu Lon could
sympathize with Xian Pu's frustration. Her great-granddaughter was being
denied her right. Akane should have been removed. But things were seldom
that clear-cut, even for Amazons, and the annoying girl was needed... for
now.
Sighing, Khu Lon gave the pot one final stir, then ladled the noodles
and broth into a bowl. Xian Pu was ready with the final toppings.
"He's nervous about something, granddaughter," Khu Lon cautioned as Xian
Pu loaded a tray with tea, the bowl of ramen, and the incidental necessities
that a customer might need.
Xian Pu nodded. "I will be careful, great grandmother."
Ten blocks away from safety, Mu Tsu was running for his life. He was
sticking to the surface route because of the better cover, but they were
after him just the same, and didn't seem to care that the Unawakened were
seeing the conflict.
That was very bad news, indeed.
A sharp tug at his robes accompanied by a high-pitched humming sound
nearly caused him to stumble. Ahead of him and to one side was a brick
wall, and with an earsplitting crack, it suddenly acquired a largish crater.
Mu Tsu ran through the cloud of reddish dust, closing his eyes tight
until he came out the other side. He dodged around a car, hurdled the next,
and grabbed the signpost on the corner and let his momentum carry him
around. The store window across the street imploded violently, and again,
no report sounded. A silenced weapon, then.
Eight blocks.
Amid the screeching tires and screaming drivers, Mu Tsu felt
unexplicably calm. He knew that the odds would catch up with him soon, but
he didn't care. Once the Matriarch found out who the leak was, he'd never
have to worry and wait as Xian Pu made another run.
He dodged out of the road to run alongside as traffic thickened.
Pedestrians flung themselves out of his way with various curses and yells.
A bullet ricocheted off the sidewalk in front of him and buried itself
in the leg of a man sitting on a bench waiting for a bus. The man fell
screaming, and Mu Tsu ran on.
Six blocks.
Ahead, a large barricade had been set up, as construction personnel and
vehicles milled about. A large hole in the road extended into the sidewalk,
and a crane was lowering a large section of pipe into the crater. Mu Tsu
didn't hesitate an instant, and took to the air. He tucked and rolled as he
left the ground, hoping that the sniper would be thrown off by his suddenly
smaller size.
It must have worked; he didn't get hit. He landed smoothly and kept
running.
Four blocks.
One hand dipped into his robes, and emerged with a small black
cellphone. Mu Tsu flipped it open and dialed with one hand, then held it to
his ear as he ran.
A line of fire slashed itself across his back, and he stumbled
momentarily. Then, realizing that he wasn't dead yet, he forced himself
back to his feet and continued to run. He could feel the spreading fire
from the wound as his exertions opened it further, and the warmth trickling
down his back could only be one thing.
"Operator."
"I need a secure patch to the Matriarch," Mu Tsu panted. "Now!"
"One moment... done." The phone clicked, then chirped for a moment.
The ring tone began to sound.
Another bullet whanged off the wall next to his head, drawing sparks and
making him duck as he ran.
Two blocks.
"Yes?" The Matriarch's voice was strong and confident over the phone.
"Matriarch, it's Mu Tsu. I found the leak, it's -"
*crack*
Mu Tsu howled in agony as the hollow-point bullet shattered his lower
right arm, at the same time his ears registered the report of a high-caliber
weapon. The phone flew in a slow arc through the air, tumbling end over end
in a lazy dance. Mu Tsu watched it in horrified fascination even as the
shock of the wound drove him to his knees and darkened the edges of his
vision. He toppled over, smacking his head painfully on the hard pavement,
then slowly raised his eyes, searching frantically for the phone. He had to
find it, had to warn them, they'd never realize on their own just who-
A pair of polished black shoes entered his vision, and a voice echoed
down dimly from above.
"Greetings, Mousse. Is this what you're looking for?"
Xian Pu was becoming frustrated. All the idiot did was sit there,
twiddle his thumbs, and stammer at her. He had something to say, he'd
indicated, and her grandmother thought there might be something important
here, but she'd never seen a man so... so...
Well, she didn't know what he was. But he was something.
"Shampoo, I, uh..." Gosunkugi stammered for the fifth time.
"If nothing to say, Shampoo go back to work, yes?"
"No! I mean, um..." Gosunkugi hung his head. Xian Pu sighed, gathered
the now-empty tray, and stood up. She glanced back down as she started to
walk away, and froze in her tracks.
Gosunkugi was holding a photo out towards her. In the photo, caught
clearly in the headlights of a large truck and holding a pay phone handset,
was Xian Pu herself.
And in the photo, her legs had disappeared. Stunned, Xian Pu collapsed
back into the chair across the table from Gosunkugi.
In rapid-fire succession, Gosunkugi scaled three more photos across the
table to her. They presented a sort of slide show of her vanishing bit by
bit, and the final scene was of a truck crushing the front of the phone
booth she'd been in.
"I've been back there, today," Gosunkugi said quietly. "The phone booth
is gone, like it never existed - there's not even wires for it! And the
wall didn't have a hole in it anymore," he added.
Xian Pu looked up at him, desperately trying to conceal her emotions.
She'd never in all her years as an operative been caught on film by one of
the Unawakened. No one had - not during the transition, at any rate.
His face was a mess of jumbled expressions, with anxiety and hope most
prevalent.
"What's going on, Shampoo?" he whispered.
Xian Pu closed her eyes. The pain, the hope in his voice... but it
could not be helped. She could not afford to jeopardize her fellow Awakened
by letting these pictures, or the man across the table from her, continue to
exist.
Under the table, her hands moved silently. To her wire-taut senses, the
whisper of steel on cloth was a roar, but she knew that there was no way
Gosunkugi would have picked it up. She opened her eyes, and let her will
flow down the living steel of her blade as she prepared to strike.
Gosunkugi was staring past her shoulder, shock and amazement plainly
written across his face. Xian Pu whirled.
In the doorway to the kitchen perched her great-grandmother. Her will,
her energy, was warping the very matrix itself, throwing off a pale purple
glow and surrounding her aged body with a column of faerie fire that reached
up to the ceiling, and quite probably beyond.
In the always-rational part of her mind, Xian Pu had to admit that it
was most definitely the brightest, strongest battle aura she'd ever seen.
"Great-grandmother?" Xian Pu whispered.
"We have no time to waste, child. Come with me." And with that, Khu
Lon leapt out the front door. Xian Pu hesitated for a split second, then
rose and followed.
Behind her, she heard Gosunkugi scrambling frantically to follow,
shouting, "Wait! Wait for me!" as they left him behind.
"Is this what you're looking for?" sneered the voice from above, again.
Mu Tsu snarled under his breath as he carefully pushed himself up to a
kneeling position with his left arm. His right was a mangled mess, with
shattered bone and muscle protruding below the elbow in a gory display. The
hand hung limp and still, and blood dripped off the end to splash on the
pavement below. He steeled himself against the pain, and looked up.
The agent stood in front of him, expressionless, with a cellphone in one
hand and a large handgun in the other.
A blinking light on the phone made Mu Tsu want to wince, and he barely
controlled the reaction. The Matriarch was listening.
Would she be able to send help in time?
No way. No way in hell.
Slowly, so as not to give the agent more reason to shoot him than he
already had, Mu Tsu stood up.
"Now, Mousse, I'm a reasonable man," the agent began. He tucked away
the gun as he spoke, and carefully removed his sunglasses. "I'm sure that
you want to live, and we're perfectly willing to let you. You need only...
cooperate."
Mu Tsu felt the anger rise inside of him, and embraced it. Outwardly,
he remained the same. Inwardly, he was focusing his entire being on the
thought of rending the agent limb from limb.
"What is your offer?" Mu Tsu ground out.
The agent seemed amused. "Why, Mousse, that should be obvious. All I
want-" the agent broke off abruptly, raising one hand to the white bud
tucked into his ear. His face hardened.
"Very clever, Mousse. But your friends will not get here in time." As
he spoke, the agent produced his gun once more. Mu Tsu tensed for action.
"Goodbye, Mousse," said the agent, raising the gun and pulling the
trigger.
Mu Tsu twisted violently to the side, flinging his left arm out. The
chain that he'd stored within his robes flashed in the sun, and the knife at
the tip penetrated the cellphone cleanly as the agent instinctively parried.
The blade severed the connection and incidentally pinned the phone to the
agent's hand. The agent's bullet tore through Mu Tsu's upper right arm and
flung him to the ground once more, although he didn't feel any pain.
The agent snarled in fury. He tore the knife out of his hand, and the
phone with it, then aimed the gun once more.
"Time to die, Mousse!" growled the agent, firing.
Mu Tsu lashed out with another chain as the handgun bucked in the
agent's hand. Fast as he was, the agent was faster, and the chain missed.
The agent swayed to the side, avoiding the chain with ease.
Pitiful humans, he thought. It's almost too easy.
The gun barked once, twice, three times in his hand. His vision,
focused as it was on the human before him, easily discerned the shockwave
ripples as the bullets tore through the air. Their trajectory was flat at
this range, and he took a small measure of satisfaction from the red
blossoms that appeared on Mousse's robes as the bullets hit home.
Mousse's body jerked spasmodically with each bullet strike. After the
third, he slumped back to the pavement, blood pooling under his body,
sightless eyes staring up at the midday sun.
"NO!"
The agent started at the shout, then whirled.
Bearing down fast on him with twin expressions of fury were two women.
One, an old mummy of a woman if he'd ever seen one, held a staff longer than
she was tall, and was spinning it furiously at her side. The other, younger
one, held a sword that glittered dangerously in the sunlight. Both were
limned in blazing bright purple flames that made the agent wince just to
look at them - his basic programming didn't take well to outside
interference in the matrix. The agents threat-identification programming
decided it didn't like the looks of either of them, either, and tagged them
both as a Class IV threat.
Well. They were fast, but bullets were faster than any human. He
raised his gun, aiming at the younger of the pair, and pulled the trigger.
Xian Pu felt the agent pull the trigger, felt the bullet streaking
towards her, and felt it nip off a small chunk of flesh from her cheek as
she hurled herself to the side. The world slowed to a crawl as she forced
the matrix to succumb to her will, instead of passively using it to extend
her senses.
To an outside observer, she became a blur of motion, too fast to see.
Her perceptions were fine-tuned, honed beyond perfection, and she almost
calmly batted the next bullet away with the flat of her sword.
The look of surprise on the agent's face was priceless. He immediately
regained control of himself, though, and shifted to a two-handed firing
stance, aiming at her exclusively. Another bullet flashed out, and again
Xian Pu deflected it, the sword in her hands ringing throughout her body
with the impact.
She knew that she couldn't maintain this level of speed for long.
Already, she could feel the mental exhaustion creeping in. Grimly, she hung
on, knowing that the agent, by targeting her first, had left himself open to
her grandmother's attack.
Khu Lon saw the bright muzzle-flashes as the agent fired; saw the
shock-cones ripple outwards from the bullets that were streaking towards her
great-granddaughter; saw the child shift speeds and dodge, distracting the
agent to give herself a chance to score.
She didn't see, however, the agent that had jumped into one of the
construction workers and pulled a gun.
The first bullet caught her unawares, ripping through the very edge of
her upper arm. Not more than a scratch, really, but the shock from the
bullet spread waves of numbness all along her arm and shoulder. She ignored
it, deflecting the next bullet with her spinning staff, and shifting her
attack stance to accommodate two enemies instead of one.
So this was how they wanted to play it, eh?
"You broke the covenant, agent," she growled, leaping forward, "and it
will be your downfall!"
The first agent realized his mistake too late, turning just in time to
catch the chi-charged end of Khu Lon's staff in the center of his forehead,
an instant after the other end had disarmed him. The energies she'd bound
within howled through the agent, and the agent's body shimmered, returning
to the form of an innocent civilian, albeit one with a hole in his forehead.
The matrix screamed.
The second agent took advantage of Khu Lon's momentary immobility and
fired again. This time his aim was true, and the old woman was flung
against the nearby brick wall of a building, blood seeping from her lower
torso. Her staff clattered to the ground, and she slid down after it,
leaving a bloody trail on the wall.
Beyond her, Xian Pu lay unconscious on the ground, a bullet hole in her
left thigh pumping blood onto the pavement. The first agent's last shot had
coincided with her final gasp of effort, and she hadn't been quite fast
enough that time.
Breathing raggedly, Khu Lon looked up. The second agent had moved
forward, and was squatting just a few short feet in front of her, gun
dangling carelessly from one hand.
Might as well be a mile, she thought. The wound in her stomach was bad,
she could tell, and her body didn't seem to want to work.
"Greetings, Matriarch." The agent smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile.
"I'm so glad you could join us."
Khu Lon shook her head, then replied: "You broke the covenant, agent.
They," with a toss of her head she indicated the civilians peering
cautiously around the corner at the end of the block, "were not to be
involved in our disputes. Why?"
"Come now, Matriarch. You know I can't tell you that." He seemed
amused. "Not that it would matter, much, since you'll be dead in a moment."
He looked thoughtful, briefly, then continued with, "Unless you'd like to
cooperate?"
Khu Lon spat at him. The bloody spittle trickled down his cheek.
"No, I thought not." Sighing, the agent stood once more, wiping his
face with his free hand. Khu Lon raised her head to keep her eyes on him.
She would die with honor, facing her opponent.
"The war will not end with my death, agent," she promised.
The agent looked at her, expressionlessly. "You're quite correct,
Matriarch. It won't." For a moment, he looked tired, but Khu Lon decided
it had to have been a trick of the light.
"Goodbye," said the agent, raising his pistol.
The agent's head exploded in a spray of blood and brain matter. The
report of the gun was deafening at such close range. Khu Lon gaped, then
looked past the falling agent's body to see the pale young man from her
restaurant holding a smoking gun in trembling hands. The man looked down at
the gun, up at Khu Lon, and paled even more.
To his credit, though, he didn't faint.
----------------------
End draft chapter one.