Suggested changes: {Original : Changed}
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Mac :})
Give a hobbit a fish and he eats fish for a day.
Give a hobbit a ring and he eats fish for an age.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Steve Thesken" <sthesken@earthlink.net>
To: <ffml@anifics.com>
Sent: Monday, September 03, 2001 15:18
Subject: [FFML] [FFML][fanfic][R1/2] Quantum Destinies 17 (Rough Draft)

Closing his eyes, the man concentrated for a moment {upon : on} his

breathing,

feeling the dry air filling and evacuating from his lungs.  Before this
moment, his last clear memories were of pain and fear, and a beautiful
girl wielding a naginata seemingly made of energy and light.  But that
was all he could recall for the moment, feeling that blade cleaving
through him, and knowing death was coming to claim him.  Then he had
found himself here, in a desert somewhere, standing next to a body that
looked like his own.  Memories of what had happened between those two
instances were vague and blurry right now.

A human who would someday {entitle : style : title} himself as the Shogun

of the Dark.

Even as he felt his essence losing its remaining cohesion and beginning
to dissipate, he had attempted to possess and assimilate this human,
who had been travelling by foot across the edge of a vast desert
wasteland.  In an instant, he had absorbed and experienced the temporal
lifepath of the Shogun, from its auspicious beginning to its
ignominious end, when it was snuffed out beneath the wheels of a common
city bus.  But the backlash caused by the commingling of their powers
had proven to be too much for his chosen vessel.  The Shogun of the
Dark was killed almost instantly, and even more of his own precious
energies had been lost.

Her hair pulled back tightly into a single ponytail to keep it out of
her way, Kodachi typed away on the keyboard in front of her and frowned
slightly at the results she was getting on the screen.  She brushed
back a stray lock of her hair absently, unaware of Ranma's regard.  The
program was giving her {compiling : compiler} errors, and it was very

irritating to

a programmer of her abilities.  Still, she had been pleased to discover
she was able to contribute something useful to their task, and her
prior efforts with Ranma's otherworld analog had given her an in-depth
understanding of the mathematics involved and the underlying software
controlling the transceiver.

Then there was the enigmatic Tiger.  The redheaded catgirl had been
assigned to him in order to prepare him for his recent rematch against
Utena.  Tiger was a product of genetic science at a level unknown on
his {analog's : analogs'} worlds, a synthetic human, a replicant, commonly

called a

Lilith.  She had tested his martial arts abilities to their previous
limits, beating him up mercilessly for days, forcing him to improve in
the fiery crucible of battle.  And in the end he had triumphed over
her, although the memories of his victory were vague, a victim of the
amnesia caused by giving himself up to the Neko-ken.  She had been long
gone when he had awakened several hours later on that last day of his
training, like a beautiful, terrifying dream.

Now she was pregnant again.  Perhaps it would be another son, but she
found herself hoping it was a daughter.  She had always wanted a little
girl of her own, a daughter to treasure and to teach how to be a proper
Japanese woman.  And any daughter of Nodoka's would be a proper girl,
she silently vowed, remembering with dismay her own rambunctious youth.
No, her daughter would be different, and she would grow up to be a
paragon of demure and gentle femininity.

Ahh.  Yahh.

It was fortunate for Ryoga that he was too engrossed in eating his meal
to spot her momentary discomfiture, or she would have had to pound on
him out of general principles.  For one thing, her {travelling :

traveling} companion

was almost a full year younger than she was, nearer to her brother's
age.  She had been a bit surprised to find herself feeling attracted to
someone who was younger, but the innocence and naivete he had sometimes
displayed during their time on the road together were oddly appealing.

They battled for three days and three nights, neither combatant able to
attain a clear advantage.  Quarter was not asked for, nor was it {given :

offered}.

Strange fires and curious lightnings raged between them.  It seemed as
if their struggle would never end, but, for a single instant, Yosho's
blade came quite near to impaling Ryoko's savage heart.  However, that
precious chance for victory was lost when the samurai hesitated at the
very last moment to deliver the killing blow, to strike the demoness
down.  That twinkling of doubt nearly cost him his life, and Ryoko's
blade came within millimeters of severing his head from his neck.  And
so their struggle continued, as fierce and unyielding as before.

I'd prefer: Quarter was neither asked nor offered.

The goddess Tsunami was greatly moved by the passions of this valiant
samurai, and so she granted his {boon : wish}.  She touched him with only

the

tip of one finger, for so great was her power that to do the same with
her full hand would have burned him to ashes.  Yosho felt an answering
power suddenly bloom within him at her touch, and so great was his
sense of wonder at this gift that he failed to notice the shadow of
sadness that crossed her features.  Later on, he would come to know the
reason why.

At his own place at the table, across from Kodachi and seated next to a
coldly-polite Tatewaki, Ranma's thoughts were kept busy studying a few
quantum dynamics theorems in his mind.  He was gamely trying to use the
mathematical puzzles to distract him from the doe-eyed glances he was
getting from the young noblewoman, who had spent the entire meal gazing
at him just barely within the {modicums : bounds} of politeness.  Each one

of her

smoldering glances kept causing him to make errors now and then in his
mental calculations and forcing him to start over.  At the same time,
he was also quickly consuming plate after plate of the delicious meal
set before him with polite gusto, restraining himself with effort at
times to keep from simply guzzling it down like one of his counterparts
would.

It was perhaps ironic that Kimiko's ghost was still frustrating her
plans from beyond the grave, in the {personage : personages} of her

daughters.  Her

old ally was having one last laugh at her expense, but Kenseiko would
turn the tables if she had any say in the matter.  Ranma would marry
her beloved Dachi-chan, completing her revenge against Nodoka by taking
the boy's names from the Saotome register when he became a Kuno.  And
as for Nabiki Tendo, she would be wise to leave Ranma to Kodachi.

Ayaka continued her preparations, feeling her stomach burble once or
twice in complaint, but she ignored it.  The pistol she picked up was a
short-barreled 9mm automatic in blued steel, standard Institute-issue
for an undercover operative like herself.  However, the cylinder was a
family heirloom, the Red Dragon Spirit Capture Star Sword.  After
quickly ejecting the magazine currently in the gun, she reached into
the drawer and pulled out a different one.  The bullets contained in
this magazine were special-issue ammunition made by the Institute, the
tips composed of a unique alloy of silver and orichalcum.  Very faint
runic traceries added to their lethality to supernatural beings.  Each
round was very expensive to create and was only meant to be used in
emergencies.  However, the current situation seemed to warrant it.

I'm not an authority, but I've seen that spelled orihalcon most places.

"Oh, Kasuga-kun was at my house when you called," quickly declared
Yohko in explanation, indicating her companion.  She then looked a
little nervous when Minami adjusted her glasses and studied the pair a
bit more closely.  A light blush appeared on the young Devil Hunter's
cheeks as she suddenly realized how bad this could look.  The blush
deepened when she recalled what she and Kyosuke had been involved in at
the time Minami called, especially since she had been the {first :} one to
initiate things.

"Well, all right."  A hint of peevishness was in the Ghost Sweeper's
voice.  She took a quick scan of their surroundings and then headed off
{in one direction : toward where she had sensed the disturbance}.

Frost had finished her analysis of the situation, and things did not
look promising if she did not enter {into the combat : the combat : the

fight : the battle}.  She began a spell

that would weaken the entity's defensive barrier before she launched
into her own repertoire of attack spells.

"Wow, Godai-kun," came Akemi's slurred voice from the doorway.  "No
wonder you didn't want to come to my party."

Excellent.  I loved that.

You are certainly running his life through the old blender in this one.


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