The characters of the Ranma 1/2 universe are the
creation and possession of the brilliant Rumiko
Takahashi. They belong to Rumiko Takahashi and her
licensees (Shogakukan Inc., Kitty-Fuji TV, Viz
Communications Inc.) No copyright infringement is
intended.
"The Green Lantern", copyright ALL-AMERICAN COMICS
# 16 (July 1940)
(Note: Green Lantern #16 provided the inspiration for this
story. However only the colour green remains.)
WARNING: This story contains scenes that some readers may
find sexually suggestive and/or violent.
Extended author notes will be added at the end of
of Chapter one and again at the end of the final chapter.
Chapters are cut to approximately 30-40KB size.
Entire story is approximately 400KB right now.
*******************************************************
Bedlam Fire
Chapter 1
Zhang, the necromancer, turned the stone in his hands.
It wasn't really stone, but then Zhang wasn't really his name.
Not the one he'd been born with decades earlier, thousands of
miles away in the black forests of Germanica. Before the
servants of the murdered god had driven him from his home.
Thin bloodless lips curved in a small, almost smile, recalling
the crackling flames and screams of the monks as he burned
them alive in their monastery. His parting gift to the
hypocrites who'd crucified their own god, yet begrudged him
a few peasants.
Stretching hugely he took a sip from his mug, grimacing
at the bitter taste. Looking around at the wattled walls of his
hut only fed anger the dark murky brew had ignited. Once he'd
supped at the table of kings, drunk the finest wines, dressed in
silk and eaten from plates of gold. Now it was beer and rancid
stew in earthen ware plates . . . a blob of mud fell from the
roof and splattered a scroll he'd stolen from Alexandria . .
.and the roof _leaked_!
Turning his attention back to the stone he considered it
with narrowed eyes. At first he'd thought it was star-metal.
The ultra-fine steel that sometimes fell from the sky was
valuable enough to be worth his trouble. Yet this unformed
lump was . . .different. It called to him in subtle and exciting
ways. Pushing aside his mug and plate he began gently
removing the dark outer crust with a mixture of diamond dust
and fat rendered from murdered children.
******************************************************
Zhang, for so he thought of himself now, looked at the
work of years. The irregular lump of stone was now a mirror-
bright polished sphere that glowed with a faint green inner
light. Hundreds of lives had fed his magicks through the years
of endless toil as he'd patiently peeled away layer after layer
of protection, both earthly and other-worldly. The bones of
those he'd slaughtered rose in a mossy hummock above his
shelter, and his vineyards were richly manured with their
blood. The spoils of those he'd murdered fed him like a king
and clothed him more sumptiously than the Emperor of Heaven
himself. Costly silks draped his walls and plates of gold
replaced more plebeian ware, assuring that his food, while
rich in appearance, was always cold.
The ancient necromancer was indifferent to worldly
comfort now, the last of his human desires had been burnt
away in a quest for power. Power that was now within his
grasp.
"Mama! Mama! I want my mama!"
Zhang turned heavy lidded eyes on the chubby six year
old boy securely fastened to a cross of ash made of a tree
growing from the grave of a hanged man.
He had felled the tree at midnight of the second full
moon after an eclipse with a saw made from the teeth of a
hundred unborn children. The cross had been fashioned from a
single piece of wood without metal tools of any kind.
It had taken years of patient effort and many false starts
and ruined experiments to get to this one sublime moment.
"You will be with your mother soon, little one." Zhang
said in kindly tones, sounding like a favorite uncle promising a
treat.
"Mama?" A hopeful light entered the child's eyes as he
searched the small room for his mother. He wanted his mama.
He wanted to go home.
"But first you have to do something for me." Out of
sight Zhang slid his hand into a bag of newly tanned leather
that was covered with a curious spiral design.
"No! No!" Chubby legs kicked in protest. "Want
mama!" Hot tears of fear and humiliation streamed down his
cheeks. He'd tried to be brave. Brave like his mama. His
mama wasn't afraid of anything. She'd come for him.
"I find it hard to believe anyone is _that_ brave."
Zhang replied to the child's unspoken thoughts as he watched
emerald fire pulse in the heart of the star-stone.
Almost time . . .
"Surely she is afraid of something?" From the bag he
withdrew a thin blade of black volcanic glass.
"Mama A'zon warrior," he lisped indignantly. "Not
afraid of nothin."
"An Amazon?" Zhang said meditatively, splitting his
attention between the boy he'd been systematically preparing
for weeks and the star-stone he'd lived with for decades.
"Ahhh . . .was she a blond?" He let the child's baby fine hair,
like corn-silk slip between the thin cold fingers of one hand.
The small head nodded vigorously, hope filling his
eyes.
Almost . . .
"With a blue spiral tattooed on her left cheek?"
The child's entire body shook with excitement.
Almost . . .
"Mama! Mama!"
"Did she look like this?" Lazily he swung the bag aloft
with his left hand, the long blond hair and tatoo easily
recognizable despite having been peeled from the living skull.
"Mamaaaaaa!"
NOW!
The childish scream of terror was cut short as the
obsidian blade opened him from neck to crotch in one swift
movement, hot blood and blind terror both washing over the
star-stone. Green fire blazed, filling the room with light and
Zhang with knowledge.
*Three fires burn*
The voice, older than time, whispered deep in Zhang's
mind.
*Death, life, power*
And with that voice came images, strange and terrible.
The ancient magician's centuries of petty murder and torture
were ripped asunder by the stone's mind-rape. A torrent of
visions flooded his mind, things that twisted the sanity of the
necromancer and tore his mind like rotten cloth. A blasted
planet that burned with green fire, populated with twisted
shadows that crept and crawled on too many limbs or none at
all. Zhang wept tears of blood and hid his face in his hands,
for fear that one of the shadows might look upon him and blast
his soul to the pits he now knew lay beneath his earthly visions
of hell.
******************************************************
Adalwolfa raised her hand in silent signal. On her left
Galya raised her bow in answer, then disappeared behind a
clump of grass that shouldn't have been able to hide a
chipmunk, let alone an Amazon in full armor. On her right
flank a bird called softly. There wasn't even a shiver in the
grass to show an Amazon has passed. But then, Kynthia was
seen only when she wanted be seen.
Satisfied that her flanks were secured, Adalwolfa
raised her fist high and pumped it twice to signal her war-hand
before beginning her advance. Today she was going to finish
the job her warrior-monk great-grandfather had started. Today
the necromancer was going to die.
Crawling slowly through grass close cropped by herds
of goats she listened to the whirr of insects and smelled the
rich soil that she bruised in passing. The sun seemed warmer,
the sky bluer and she wondered if this would be her last day
alive. Death rested lightly on her soul. The thought of failure
turned her bowls to water. For almost two centuries the
magician had been harvesting the Amazon's like a wolf among
the lambs until a once great people had been reduced to a few
wandering bands. Adalwolfa knew her nation would live or
die depending on what happened today.
Finding her position good she froze in place, signaling
the others that she had done so. This done, she waited, patient
as a stone. Or an assassin. The sun had moved barely a finger
width above the horizon when two whistling arrows screamed
into the sky from the far side of the necromancers compound.
In a rush, what seemed to be hundreds of Amazon's
erupted from the ground and hurtled toward the magicians lair.
Those farthest from Adalwolfa screamed their war cries and
fired whistling arrows as fast as they could draw bow, in
hopes of drawing his attention from the main attack.
Years of observation had let the Amazon's shaman, Ilu,
know that every great working left the necromancer distracted
and vulnerable. And the greater the magic, the greater his
vulnerability. Her auguries had shown that the disappearance
of Galya and her son was related to Zhang's blood magic. She
convinced the War Leader, Adalwolfa, that while they could
not save Galya, her sacrifice might allow the Amazon's one
last chance to survive.
As the wooden palisade grew closer and they
remained unchallenged, Adalwolfa began to think they might
succeed. Surely if the magician were aware of them he would
react. The complete lack of activity suggested he wasn't aware
or _couldn't_ act. Ilu had been right, she thought exultantly,
watching the rough hewn wall grow closer. The necromancer
was locked deep in his hellish magic; helpless against their
attack. She could see the yellow mossy bones that fastened the
heavy wooden stakes together, interwoven with rope spun
from the hair of countless murdered women and men. A bright
scarlet plait gleamed in the sun, and she stumbled, tears
blinding her eyes. Red was a color rare and prized among
these dark haired easterners. Perhaps that was why her mother
and sisters . . . She thrust aside the dark thought before it could
turn her bones to water, and in a practiced motion leapt for the
wall. Two of her war-sisters, ahead of her by only a few
paces, caught her ankles as she jumped and _heaved_,
propelling her to the top of the wall.
Balanced for a moment she scanned the empty interior
yard for traps, then fastened a line to the wall before letting it
fall behind her. Dropping lightly to the ground she heard the
soft thud as warrior after warrior flowed over the wall behind
her and the other pathfinders. Last came the shaman Ilu,
spending her power recklessly to subdue the protections the
necromancer had woven into his wall.
They were going to do it, Adalwolfa thought, finally
daring to fully believe. They were----
The necromancers house exploded in green fire, killing
a dozen warriors instantly, scattering the rest over the ground
like leaves in a storm. Dazed and bleeding Adalwolfa dragged
herself to her feet to see a giant, bathed in green fire stride
across the yard, crushing Amazons, dead and living, beneath
his feet.
Kynthia burst from concealment, firing her composite
horse-bow at point-blank range. The heavy iron bolt spattered
against the green fire, like grease on a hot griddle, and
vanished. With a laugh like breaking stone the giant plucked
the Amazon from the ground and pinched off her arms and
legs, like an evil child tearing the wings off a fly. Casting her
bleeding, dying husk aside the necromancer looked around for
new play things.
Sick at heart Adalwolfa watched her Amazons strike
with spear and sword and arrow. And striking, die. Each
warrior as helpless against the emerald fire as a naked infant
against a steel sheathed warrior. Knowing she would die but
having no heart to outlive her people, Adalwolfa snatched a
broken spear from the ground and drove it into the giants side.
To her shock, the emerald fire provided no shield
against the broken shaft and the giant shrieked as the splinter
bit deep into his side. For an instant Adalwolfa was shocked
into immobility. Then----
"WOOD! The magician is not warded 'gainst wood!"
Akalwolfa's shriek carried across the bloody field. Surviving
Amazons, some dying on their feet, snapped the tips from
spears, heads from arrows or snatched splinters from the
shattered walls and charged the necromancer. Howling in pain
and rage he launched himself into the air, buoyed by green fire.
Enraged Amazons tore rope woven from the hair of
their dead sisters from the smashed palisade and tied them to
the shafts of their headless spears. As if gaffing a trout they
pierced the flying magician with wood, tangled him with ropes
and dragged him back to earth. Too new to his power, shocked
and disoriented by pain and fear the magician needed time to
develop a counter to this attack. Time the Amazons were not
going to allow.
Stabbing and hacking the maddened Amazons ripped
chunks of flesh from the magician with their wooden claws,
rending him like a pig in a slaughter house. At last a wooden
sliver pierced his heart. With a shriek the necromancer
expired, emerald fire vomiting forth from his broken chest to
consume the remaining Amazons, the fields, the trees, the birds
and beasts and every living thing for a hundred li.
*death*
And the first seal shattered.
******************************************************
Calina paused at the top of a hill to look back into the
blasted valley. The green fire had lapped at the base of the far
hills, then fallen back like a storm tossed sea. In it's wake
. . .nothing. Not a single bird, no fish, no growing thing. Not
even the worms of the earth remained alive.
Only the children remained of the Amazon nation, and
only the fleetest of those. Even if the very land had not been
killed they could not stay. It would be generations, if ever,
before the Amazons would be able to protect their own. They
had no choice but to flee to a land they could hold simply
because no sane person would want it. Shouldering her pack
the new elder of the Amazon nation, feeling every one of her
fourteen years, led her people south to their new home.
******************************************************
One thousand six hundred years later, in the twenty
sixth year of the Meiji Emperor, the year 1894 by Western
reckoning, a woman prostrated herself before the statue of
Senjiu-Kawannon as she prayed for the life of her child. She
had visited the three and thirty temples sacred to the Goddess
of Mercy around Kyouto and walked the thirteen hundred
kilometer pilgrims path around Shikouku, praying and offering
gifts at each of the eighty six temples begging that her sons life
be spared.
Everyday his breathing was a little more labored.
Everyday the shadows in his eyes grew a little deeper and her
heart grew heaver. The doctors had given up hope weeks past,
declaring that his fate was beyond modern medicine. And
perhaps beyond even the help of the gods.
And so at last she had come to the Ni-gwarsu-dou on a
path of blood, as she crawled the fifty kilometers from the
coast on her knees. The "Hall of the Second Moon" was
famous for it's statue of Kwannon-of-the-thousand-hands that
remained miraculously warm like living flesh. Perhaps it
would provide a miracle for her son.
Prostrating herself before the image she prayed with
all the faith, hope and despair of a mother desperate to save a
dying child. Hour upon hour, she pressed her forehead against
the stone, praying until her voice was gone and her legs went
numb.
"Your prayer will be answered!"
The sudden voice almost caused her heart to stop,
thinking the icon had given tongue. Then she noticed the black
robed monk, face hidden in the shadows of his deeply conical
straw hat.
"R . . .reverend one?" She whispered hoarsely, hardly
daring to hope that this monk might offer some mystic
treatment, some devine intercession.
"Fashion an image of Hito-Koto-Kwannon," the monk
commanded, "and your piety will be rewarded."
"I don't understand." The woman stammered tearfully,
pressing her face to the floor in respect. "I am not an artisan.
How am I to do this thing?"
Silence was her only answer. She looked up to find the
monk gone and a polished stone that shimmered with a soft
green glow resting in his place. With trembling hands she
reached out and took the thing from the floor. Turning back to
the icon of Kwannon she found the statue had vanished.
Trembling in awe at further evidence of heavenly intervention,
she bowed once, very low. Gathering up her skirts she hurried
out of the temple toward the home of relatives where she was
staying with her son.
******************************************************
Seven days it had taken her. Seven days without food,
drink or sleep. Yet she felt as if she'd just begun. She'd been
terrified that any inattention to her task would be taken as a
lack of faith by Kwannon and her son would die. As she had
told the monk, she had no skills as an artesian, certainly no
skills in working metal. Yet the icon of Kwannon-who-
answers-a-single-prayer had appeared with surprising ease.
Indeed it had seemed not so much that she was making the icon
as that she was uncovering something that already existed
within the metal.
Sitting beside her son's bed she listened to him fight
for breath. Her family had thought she was crazy to depend on
Kwannon to save her child, rather than science, in these
golden days of the Empire. They would have been certain she
was insane had they seen her make a lamp without a place for
oil or wick. But she knew that the goddess would provide.
Placing the lightless lamp beside her dying son she
knelt and prayed.
"Goddess of Mercy, make my son well."
Emerald fire blazed, bathing her son with a cold light.
"Mother?" The boy turned his head weakly on his
pillow. Already he looked stronger.
"Eiku! Kiku, my son!" Tojo Yuko wept on her son's
shoulder.
The future prime minister of Japan returned the hug
weakly as the rising sun filled the room with a ruddy light, like
new spilled blood. A new day had come to Hiroshima.
*life*
And the second seal shattered.
******************************************************
"What a lovely birthday party,"Tendou Kasumi smiled
at her baby sister while she deftly removed the decimated
remains of cake and ice cream, "and so many lovely presents."
"Let me help you with that Oneesama." Akane started
to her feet, only to be waved back.
"No work for the birthday girl," Nabiki smiled
sardonically from her position holding up the wall. "This is
_your_ day."
"Yeah, don't spoil it by goin' in the kitchen." Ranma
mumbled through a mouthful of cake.
"WHAT! What did you say?" Akane's voice was tight
with anger, and perhaps something else. "Are you making
fun----"
"RANMA!" Ryouga slammed an elbow into the top of
Ranma's head. "How DARE you insult----"
"Two hundred yen says Ranma gets another three
lumps before he loses consciousness." Nabiki waved a wad of
yen in front of the small group of party goers still remaining.
"I've got fifty that says they both end up in the koi
pond." Sayuri countered as Nabiki rapidly scribbled bets in a
small notebook.
Mention of the koi pond froze Ryouga for a moment,
allowing Ranma to apply a head lock, while Akane searched
for a blunt object not in use to hold food, gifts or guests.
"More party games?" Kasumi returned from the kitchen
to scoop up soiled linen and crumb filled plates. How nice."
She paused in the midst of her cleaning to pluck an irregular
object from the debris. Turning it in her hands she examined
the thing, which looked like a Salvador Dali painting stuffed
inside a Klein bottle during a storm at sea. "Did you bake this
Akane?"she asked in a mildly accusing tone.
"Aaaaaak!" Ryouga wrenched free of Ranma's hold
and made a desperate grab for the thing in Kasumi's hands.
"T . . .that's mine," he stuttered. "Ummmm . . .it's for you," he
said blushingly, thrusting what was now revealed to be a
badly wrapped package, rather than a genetics experiment
gone horribly wrong, at Akane. "H . . .h . . .happy birthday!"
"Ryouga . . .how sweet," Akane left off adjusting
Ranma's attitude with a souvenir marble ashtray and took the
package from Ryouga, accidentally brushing his hand with
hers as she did so.
She . . .she touched me, Ryouga thought, weeping tears
of joy. Now I can die a happy man.
"Oh . . ." Akane exclaimed as the last of the paper and
tape finally yielded to her determined efforts.
"My . . ." Kasumi said softly as sunlight hit the object,
causing it to shimmer with a faint green light.
"God, it's ugly," Nabiki commented, collecting money
from the losers, paying off winners, and taking the house
percentage off the top from both sides.
"It's beautiful," Akane assured Ryouga, shooting a
darkling look at her sibling. "I'll treasure it always." She
clasped the statue to her breast, absently noticing how warm it
felt to the touch.
******************************************************
He hadn't been invited to the party. Obviously an
oversight. He should be angry. But as Master of the School of
Indiscriminate Grappling he was above such petty emotions as
revenge. Besides, it was so late at night he didn't want to
chance waking the birthday girl. He would just leave her
gift . . .quietly. Caressing the magically charged "Staff of
Eros" he had "found" someplace he could no longer recall, the
evil master hopped nimbly to the roof top. A quick move left
him dangling outside Akane's window.
"Happy birthday to you," he sang softly, blowing his
special powder through the open window. It wouldn't do to
have her wake up and spoil the surprise. "Happy birthday
_dear_ Akane." Watching her breathing deepen as the dust
took effect, he slipped inside. "Happi---- Birth----Day . . .
to . . .you."
******************************************************
**A _spider_! The size of a dinner plate with bulging
eyes. And fangs. Dripping venom. Akane turned to run, but she
felt as if she were swimming in glue. She opened her mouth to
scream, but not a sound came out.**
Akane moaned in her sleep, thrashing weakly, locked
deep in her nightmare by Happousai's drug.
The Master of All Evil's eyes gleamed in the
moonlight as he stared at Akane. Licking his lips he moved
closer. This would be even better than the time he hit her
shiatsu sleep-spot, or when he used the dream incense, or that
time at the hot-springs , or . . .
**Wildly Akane fought to run away, step by agonizing
step, as if she were running through mud. And the spider just
kept coming, skittering across the floor, closer and closer. It's
many legs making a horrible chittering sound on the floor.**
All he had to do was touch Akane with the "Staff of
Eros" and she would fall madly in love with him. Almost
swooning at the thought Happousai stretched out his hand . . .
**A single hairy leg reached out and stroked her side
with a feather light touch. Bile burned her throat like acid and
horror lent her the strength to break free of the invisible bonds.
Frantically she reached for a weapon . . .something,
anything . . .**
Happousai froze as Akane's back arched and she half
rose from her bed with a gasp. Strange. She shouldn't be able
to move----
**Her shinai! Gratefully her hands closed around the
smooth familiar shape----**
A sharp flash of green light blinded the ancient master
for a moment. Just a moment----
**With all her strength she brought the flexible bamboo
down across the spiders fat body. Again. And again. Until she
felt it crack like a strawberry basket. She kept smashing at the
loathsome bug until it's legs stopped twitching. Shuddering in
revulsion she flicked the horrid thing out of the window with
the tip of the practice sword. Grimacing at the bug guts
smeared on the end of the shinai she tossed it out the window
as well. **
On her bed Akane's sleeping body gave one last
shudder, of relief this time, and passed into normal sleep. All
alone in her room.
******************************************************
"Hey Akane, get movin' or you're gonna be late," a
voice called from outside her door.
Bleary eyed, Akane struggled from the tangle of bed
clothes and staggered from her room and down the stairs.
"Man, you look like sh----" Rama stumbled over his
tongue as Kasumi moved gracefully from the kitchen with miso
soup and rice. "Ummm . . .thanks for the breakfast, Kasumi."
Ranma said, hastily warding his food from his father.
"Ranma's right, sis. You do look like shit." Nabiki felt
no need to curb her tongue in front of her sister. Either sister.
"Bottle of sake in one of your presents?"
Akane peered muzzily at her soup. With great
deliberation she began an epic battle with a cube of tofu
floating in her miso. The tofu was winning.
"I didn't sleep well." Came the mumbled reply. Maybe
if she snuck up on the sucker? Tofu was tricky.
"Too much cake?" Kasumi asked solicitously, trying to
find a tactful way to let Akane know the tofu had slipped out of
the bowl and was making a getaway across the table.
"Nightmare," now where had that sneaky . . .ahaaa . . .
behind the salt shaker. The little devil. Akane prepared to
pounce on the escaping bean curd. "Spider." she added
simply, as if that explained it all.
"Ooooo," Ranma said tauntingly, dangling some
noodles on the end of his chopstick in front of her face. "is the
gorilla girl afraid of a little----"
"Eeeeeeeee!"
"That's got to hurt!" Nabiki finished her breakfast and
neatly replaced her chopsticks beside her plate, on the floor.
The table being otherwise in use. Upside down. On top of
Ranma's head.
"Great as always Oneesama." She absently patted the
groaning Ranma on the shoulder as she walked past. "Don't be
late to school. I've got four to one odds you'll make it to class
on time. And six to one Kuno gives a gift to his pig-tailed-
goddess before lunch." At Kasumi's questioning glance she
added, "He doesn't want her to feel slighted because he gave
Akane a gift." She nodded in the direction of the life size Kuno
bust that recited poetry when a button was pushed or when a
heat sensor indicated someone was in the room. It had taken
her two hours to figure out how to pull the plug on the darn
thing. And she'd only charged Akane three hundred yen for the
information. It was her birthday after all.
She paused on her way back up the stairs. "I think it's
dead, Akane." Her sister ignored her and kept hammering
away at the spider/blob-of-soba-noodles that were,
unfortunately, on top of Ranma's head. Sighing, Nabiki
continued on her way. One of these days they were going to
have to do something about Akane's spider phobia.
******************************************************
"Nihao Airen!"
"Aaaaaak!" Ranma jumped and screamed like a girl.
Which was especially embarrassing as he was presently male.
With a Chinese female grafted to his back.
"Shan Pu bring too, too good lunch."
Akane looked up wearily from where she sat beneath
the tree, too tired to chew, almost too tired to breath. The brief
spark of anger was quickly quenched and she shuffled a little
out of the way without rising from the ground.
"Why you Chinese hussy," Ukyou stomped forward
and wedged her uber-spatula between the two.
"Get----," she wiggled the spatula back and forth as
she pushed forward,
"Off----," grunting with effort she put her back into it,
"MY----," Damn, she was going to have to order that
new hydraulic upgrade from Spatula Monthly.
"FIANCEE!!!"
Ukyou gave a tremendous heave and Shan Pu broke
suction with a wet popping sound. Flipping neatly through the
air the amorous Amazon landed on her feet, facing the
obstreperous okonomiyaki chef.
"Interfere Amazon and husband mean death." Shan Pu
asserted, producing a matched pair of Goloks. The heavy
Malaysian knives were a gift from her father and she hadn't
had a chance to try them out yet.
Dispiritedly Akane poked at her bentou, trying to
figure out what to do with it. Her hands felt swollen and
clumsy, her head stuffed with cotton-wool.
Ukyou countered with her battle spatula held high over
her head in both hands, the blade slanting down behind her
back in what looked like a modified "molinello" stance. The
apparent opening was offset by the tremendous power of the
stance. It was also an attempt to lure the Amazon into an
attack. As soon as Shan Pu thrust, Ukyou would counter with a
time-cut to her leading arm to remove the offending limb and
follow that with a return cut to her head that, if successful,
would leave Shan Pu staring back at her own body from
several feet away.
_ If_ she were serious.
A little reluctantly Ukyou decided using the edge
_might_ be just a tad extreme. At least with so many
witnesses. She would have to be satisfied with just hurting the
little tart. Repeatedly.
"Oh yeah!" Ukyou thrust her chin forward
pugnaciously. "Well, to interfere between the Master of God-
Sent-Okonomiyaki and her fiancee, means a beatin'."
"Ha!" Shan Pu tossed her hair, producing an interesting
sympathetic reaction a few inches below her collar bone that
caused three passing middle-school boys to instantly hit
puberty. "Spatula girl no can beat _Amazon_ warrior."
"Yeah?" Ukyou frowned, noting male reaction to Shan
Pu's "personality". "Well, no silicon strumpet's gonna get
_my_ sweetie!" She stalked forward a step.
"SILICON!" Shan Pu half-shrieked in outrage. "What
you saying?" Replacing her knives Shan Pu stomped to within
a few feet of Ukyou. "Spatula girl just jealous because goodies
flat like okonomiyaki."
"I am NOT flat," Ukyou screeched. "It's just the
bindings.
"That good excuse," Shan Pu scoffed, "for woman
built like stick."
"STICK!" Ukyou ripped open the front of her blouse.
"Does this look like a stick?"
"Look like dried up cow poo-poo," the Amazon
sneered. "husband deserve only _Best_!" Shampoo whipped
off her chignon. Three boys and two girls became men on the
spot.
"Oh YEAH!" Ukyou ripped off her bindings and,
aggressively, went nose-to. . .nose with the Amazon, proudly
upholding the honor of Japan. "Top _these_ you bimbo."
Ranma, completely forgotten in the heat of battle,
looked worriedly at Akane who seemed completely unmoved
at all the female opulence being bandied about in his vicinity.
"Hey, it ain't my fault. I didn't do nuthin'." He excused
himself on general principle.
"I can't find my noodlestooper." Akane replied very
carefully.
"Huh?" Ranma looked closely at Akane and noticed
her eyes weren't tracking. "Are you OK?"
"I'd like to buy a vowel." Akane slumped back against
the tree, a faint buzzing snore coming from between her lips.
"Ahhhh man," Ranma glanced around to see if anyone
was watching. Grateful to see that Ukyou and Shan Pu were
fully engaged in their battle to see who was the breast . . .errr
. . .best, he scooped Akane up in his arms and bounded for
home.
******************************************************
"Oh Ranma," Tendou-san, weeping a river, fell on
Ranma's shoulder as the young martial artist hit the bottom of
the stair. "Have you heard what happened?"
"Hey, I didn't do nuthin!" Ranma defended
automatically, looking for an opportunity to run. "Anyway,
Akane's OK, she's just asleep. I just put her to bed. Ask
Kasumi if you don't believe----"
##It's Party time!## Genma waved a sign excitedly,
slapping a paper hat on Ranma's head.
"Stupid old man," Ranma slapped the hat away, "You
ain't a panda."
"Heh!" Genma grinned insincerely. "I forgot."
"It's wonderful news," Soun blubbered, gathering
Ranma in a big hug. "The master . . .the master . . ."
"The old fart is in the hospital," Genma finished.
"Someone beat the stuffing out of him." He pushed a bottle at
Kasumi. "Join the celebration!"
"I just got off the phone with the hospital." Kasumi
waved the bottle aside with a smile. "They say grandfather
Happousai should be out of recovery in a few hours. We can
go visit then."
"He's _alive_!?" Genma's face fell.
"There's no justice, old friend." Soun took a healthy
swig from the bottle.
"There's always the chance of infection." Nabiki put in
from the corner where she was reading a fashion magazine.
"You're a good daughter," Soun wept, taking a deeper
pull at the bottle. "to cheer your old father so."
"Geeez, you two are pathetic." Ranma decided to see
if there was anything in the kitchen to eat.
******************************************************
"Are you sure you're OK?" Ranma tried not to look
like he was hovering as he walked beside Akane down the
hospital corridor. "Not that I'm worried or nuthin." The sweet
sour smell of antiseptic, sickness and stale urine assaulted his
nose, making him regret eating such a big dinner.
"I was just tired," Akane replied, still lacking her
usual spark. "I didn't sleep very well." Trudging down the
corridor her pasty skin was a good match for the nasty green
color of the hospital walls.
Kasumi felt Akane's forehead. "You don't seem
feverish. Perhaps it was something you ate." She smiled gently
at Ranma. "She always overdid the eel jelly on Girl Day and it
gave her the most awful nightmares."
"Heh," Ranma smirked, "a gorilla girl even when you
were little."
"Fortunately she out grew the nightmares at about the
same time she stopped wetting the bed."
"Kasumiiiii!" Akane hissed, blushing furiously.
"Here we are," Kasumi interrupted cheerfully. "Room
893." She pushed open the door and led the others into the
room.
A tiny figure, wrapped in bandages and splints lay in
the middle of a hospital bed with tubes and wires running in
and out of the body.
"How is he, doctor?" Kasumi asked softly.
The green clad figure turned away from the monitors,
making a notation on a clip-board before hanging it on the end
of the bed.
"It's amazing," the doctor whispered. "Six broken ribs,
both arms and legs broken, fractures of skull and mandible as
well as a shattered pelvis . . ."
"And he's still alive?" Nabiki raised an eyebrow.
"That _is_ amazing."
"No, what's amazing is he tried to grope a nurse as he
was coming out of the anesthesia," the doctor confided in
astounded tones.
"Ohhh, the master is on his way to recovery," Soun
wept softly. "What a . . .happy occasion." he added, just in
case the bandaged figure could hear him.
"Buck up Tendou,"Genma patted his old friend on the
shoulder. "The master is sure to recover . . .barring an
accident." he jerked his head toward the oxygen line, IV tubes
and power plugs just sitting there.
Where someone could stumble over them.
Accidentally.
"The old freak is pretty tough," Ranma opined, moving
closer to the bed. "I bet he's outa here in a few weeks."
Soun wept harder.
"I wonder what could have happened?" Akane added,
moving up beside Ranma. As she moved into view the figure
started to shake and jerk about, muffled whimpering sounds
being accompanied by shrill alarms from the cardio-monitor.
"He's having some sort of seizure," the doctor swore
softly. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave." He started
hustling them out the room.
"Hey doc," Nabiki stopped just inside the door, "any
idea what happened to the old guy?"
"The police report is still pending," the doctor moved
her aside as several nurses rushed in with a crash cart. "but it
looks as if he were beaten rather savagely with a stick."
******************************************************
End Chapter 1
General Update:
I've got about another 50KB left to go on
BF, which started as a short piece
for the SLR_AE New Writers Newsletter.
Sukeban Senshi Chapter 8 is back from
pre-readers. They put in a LOT of hard
work and I'm doing what amounts to
a complete re-write on some parts.
Don't expect anything for a while.
Sukeban is very hard to write
or re-write.
On a more positive note, I've already
got some of chapter 9 done. I'm sorry
it's taking so long, but I'm writing as
fast as I can.
{note, I've had trouble replying to some
people who've e-mailed me.
Eg. ::"Are you Alive?" I keep getting
a return saying you're not accepting e-mail
from me. ^_^ I've had similar
problems with other people. I reply
to EVERY e-mail, though it may take a
while in some cases. If you don't hear from
me in two to four weeks, write again. It got
lost in the back log, or my reply was lost, or
something happened. I really do like hearing
from you. ^_^ }
Other fanfics::
"I'm a Guy", "Tyger,Tyger",
"With Friends Like these. . .",
are still being worked on.
Again, I'm working as fast
as I can.
C&C and Pre-reading.
Sorry I'm so slow. I can't
write and pre-read/C&C
at the same time. Also Real
Life gets in the way.
Working as fast as I can. ^_^
Notes for Bedlam Fire:
[Notes cover the _entire_
story to date.]
(Meanings of names are ONLY _approximate_ renderings
into English. Spellings are phonetic approximations. )
Kynthia: Moon [greek]
Ilu: Light [greek]
Adalwolfa: Noble She Wolf [germanic]
Galya: God Shall Redeem [germanic]
Calina: Shining Light [germanic]
Guri: Plenty [Norse]
Aziza: Precious one [Arabic]
Mani: Tenacity [ Norse]
Ranjit: (m) Strong, intense [Sikh]
Wanet: (f) Idealistic, generous [Philipino]
Gerde (f) Guarded [Tutonic]
Harolda: (f) Strong in war [Tutonic]
Kerta: (f) Warrior [Tutonic]
Er Shangtan (f) stone eagle [chinese]
Bao Xianmeng (f) bright butterfly [chinese]
Shen Xuannu (f) snow effort [chinese]
Juan (f) graceful [chinese]
Baojin (f) Protects the Family[chinese]
Tojo Hideki: Prime Minister of Japan during WWII, was
born Tojo Eiku, taking the name Hideki later in life.
8-9-3 or Ya-Ku-Sa is the worst possible hand in the card
game Hanafuda (flower cards) where the last digit of the
total counts as the number of the hand.8 + 9 + 3 = 20,
the last digit is zero. Therefore the hand is
worth . . . nothing.
Ito Soda, a samurai in the Nabeshima infantry. Prince
Hizen of the Nabeshima family, was ill from the magical
attack of a demon taking the form of O Toyo his favorite
among the palace women. Ito Soda was the only one who
resisted the magic of the vampire-cat demon and thus
saved the life of Prince Hizen by staying awake all
night, every night,preventing the demon from sucking the
life from Hizen. "Myths and Legends of Japan" F. Hadland
Davis, ISBN: 981-218-030-3, p. 265.
Hello Kitty Lips: Japanese snack food.(honest. I
couldn't make up something like that.)
http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Troy/2855/ratings.html
http://www.japanesesnacks.com/main.shtml
Notes on "The Amazon Nation":
I'm assuming the Chinese Amazons are the remnants of a
group of the original Amazons that, according to legend,
were captured in battle and carried of into slavery. On
board ship they killed their captors. Unfortunately the
Amazons weren't sailors and couldn't find their way
home. I've changed the legend slightly by assuming that,
for various reasons, they or their descendants
eventually ended up in China. I've used
several existing or past mountain cultures as a
template to build the present day Chinese Amazons. I'm
also assuming that the Chinese Amazons have a great deal
of adoption from outside the tribe to keep the gene pool
diverse. Further I'm assuming that names are not
necessarily reflective of racial characteristics. For
instance, Aziza had an Arabic name, due to familial
relationships, but was more nordic in type. ^_^
Dancing Butterflies: inspired by Joachim Steuben's
"White Mice" (David Drake's "Hammer's Slammers" novels)
and based on the concept that the Greeks called the
Furies the Kindly-Minded Ones.
War-hand: five warriors
War-band: five hands or twenty five warriors
MY GOD! The Japanese aren't Christian, so why do your
characters use Christian sounding expletives? Actually
the Japanese, especially the royal family, have been
heavily influenced by Western and Christian ideas. (A
member of the Society of Friends is usually part of the
Royal Household.)However the real reason is that
translating Japanese epithets and exclamatory remarks is
more difficult than it's worth. I use Japanese where I
think appropriate but strive for readability. I
don't want readers to have to stop and read end note to
figure out what a character is saying nor do I want
emotional content to be lost in "translation."
King Pyrrhus: Hey! What's with all these non-Japanese
reference's. It's not likely that Nabiki would know
about an obscure fight between the Greeks and Romans.
Possibly true. And you _could_ have used something
like Hideyoshi's Korean campaign that destroyed Korea
as a nation, left China ripe for
conquest my the Manchu and dealt Hideyoshi's government
a mortal blow economically and politically. However,
since my readers are mostly English speaking I thought
this a more easily understandable reference.
founding-buster-cluck:: a situation that's _really_
messed up. (I understand the armed services use a _very_
rude expression that sounds similar ^_^)
*******************************************************
End Author Notes
"The next time someone hands you an exploding ham, I'm
going to pass the mustard."
Jack Deth, Trancers II
(Now if I can just figure out how to use this line in a
fanfic.)