Another unfinished 2nd Bet entry
A strange sight greeted the new arrival as he approached Mimir's Well. Fox,
na'merind god of trickery and cleverness, was dashing around in a circle,
apparently chasing his tail. Or rather, the "kick me" sign taped to said
tail. Grinning hugely, his partner-in-meddling Toltiir was egging him on.
"Almost got it! Just a little faster and I'm sure you'll-" Toltiir paused
and noticed the new arrival. "Oh, hello. Here to toss your hat in the ring?"
The new arrival was a rather short, disreputable-looking male god dressed in
what appeared to be a helmetless, male version of the infamous Knight Sabre
hardsuits underneath a well-worn camouflage army jacket and several dozen
bandoleers of heavy ammunition. His unadorned head bore a wild shock of
black hair so disarrayed that it seemed as though someone had set off a
small-grade explosive in his face. Thick glasses did little to reduce impact
of his bulging wild eyes, and a leering, lecherous grin that would have
looked quite at home on Ataru Moroboshi was barely visible beneath a
drool-encrusted beard.
Sonoda, God of Fanservice and Munitions chortled wetly, caressing a AK-47
he'd managed to produce from beneath his voluminous fatigue jacket. "Oh
yeah. I'm ready to go, baby," he drooled lasciviously as he stroked the
machinegun disturbingly. "I'm gonna make a little change. here."
Fox and Toltiir double-blinked, staring into the Well and observing the
change Sonoda made.
"I don't get it," Fox said after a moment, scratching idly behind a
red-furred ear. "You inserted a Right-To-Bear-Arms amendment into the
Japanese Constitution? And this is supposed to accomplish what exactly?"
"Watch and learn," Sonoda drooled in anticipation.
***
The Bet created by Gregg Sharp
2nd Bet begun by FlashFyre
"MAVERICKS"
A Ranma � / Gunsmith Cats fusion by Dave Menard
Based upon characters and situations created by Rumiko Takahashi and Kenichi
Sonoda
Used without permission in the spirit of fannish love. (Luuv! Luv makes the
world go 'round!!)
LIME WARNING!! Contains suggestive naughtiness and bad language, much like
the source material.
GUN WARNING!! The author, being a Canadian and moreover, a lifetime
civilian, knows squat about how firearms behave in real life. I have made a
token effort towards accuracy, but those of you with real shooting
experience may wince. If I hurt you, sorry.
***
NERIMA WARD, TOKYO, 1998
Ranko "Rally" Saotome was draped across her bed with the sort of casual
abandon that only children or the truly exhausted possess, the comforting
smell of the loaded and freshly-oiled Colt .25 auto under her pillow lulling
her into a deep sleep, despite the oppressive July heat. Her thin cotton
tankini, stretched taut across her impressive bust, was rendered almost
translucent with sweat. She rolled over with a moan, her eyes flickering
rapidly underneath their tightly-shut lids as she dreamed.
***
HOKKAIDO, 1985
"Daddy! Daddy! I hit the target! I hit the target!" a six-year-old Ranko
cheered, jumping up and down with joy, her pretty pink dress swirling around
her knees. Tightly gripped in her tiny hands was an empty BB rifle, with a
scope and stock extension the only concessions to her size and age. Twenty
yards distant stood a bullseye-style target mounted on a bale of straw, with
a scattering of tiny holes in the outside ring proving her joyous claim.
The sun-dappled maples of the spacious country estate flashed red-gold in
the fall afternoon as Genma Saotome, five-time Olympic gold medallist for
target and skeet shooting gazed down with pride on his beloved daughter.
Already, her skills were superior to his own at that age. "That's very good,
Ranko dear. Someday, with lots of practice, you'll be the perfect heir to
the Saotome School of Anything-Goes Sharpshooting. You make your father
proud." He bent down on one knee and smiled broadly as his daughter rushed
into his arms and hugged him with all her tiny might, tears of happiness
welling up in his own eyes to match those flowing freely from Ranko's
sapphire orbs.
A hard, feminine voice broke into the happy father-daughter moment. "Genma
Saotome! What are you DOING?!"
Genma stiffened in his daughter's grip and reluctantly released Ranko,
slowly getting to his feet. "N-N-Nodoka, dear. I was just."
Nodoka frowned down at her husband and daughter, her arm crossed imperiously
across her chest. "I _thought_ we'd discussed this, over and over again! Bad
enough you've dishonoured our family's long and proud tradition of kyudo
archery by using _firearms_," she spat that last as though it were an
epithet, "but I will _not_ have you turning my sweet, well-behaved daughter
into some sort of, of. gun-toting _floozy_!!"
Genma hung his head in the face of his wife's wrath. Ranko, who didn't quite
catch the entire drift of the conversation, only wanted to make Mommy smile
like she and Daddy had been doing a moment ago. "Mommy! Mommy! Look, I hit
the target finally! Daddy says I'm gonna be his hair! It's a good thing,
too, 'cause he's startin' to go bald on top, y'know?"
Nodoka's eyebrow began to twitch, rage warring with the desire to laugh at
the red-faced and gasping look on her husband's face. Finally, she brought
herself under control and sighed long and hard. "That's. nice, Ranko dear.
I'm sure your father must be very proud of you. Come here for a moment,
won't you? Mother would like to ask you something."
"Okay, Mommy," Ranko smiled innocently up at her mother, quickly breaking
down and putting her BB rifle into the carry-case before dashing over to her
mother. "What'cha wanna ask?"
"Ranko honey," Nodoka knelt down so that she and her daughter were eye to
eye, "Don't you want to grow up to be a beautiful, graceful lady?"
Ranko's eyes sparkled as she nodded happily. "Yeah! I wanna grow up an' be a
boo'ful lady just like you, Mommy!"
Nodoka favoured her with a warm smile. "Is that so?"
"Uh-huh!" Ranko nodded again. "An' I also wanna win a pile of gold medals
like Daddy, an' be a magical girl like Minky Momo, an' have a flyin'
saucerer like Lum, an' pilot a Valkyrie like Max Sterling, an', an' have a
pet Gojira- or maybe just a Minya, 'cause Gojira's too big, an' he might
burn down the house. Do ya think that if Minya came an' lived with us, that
Gojira an' Rodan an' Mothra would come visit sometimes? Only, I don't want
Ghidrah to come over, 'cause he's a meanie!"
A bead of sweat appeared briefly on Nodoka's brow, but quickly vanished.
"T-that's very nice dear, but I'm not sure you can do _all_ of those
things."
Ranko pouted cutely. "No?"
"I'm afraid not, dear." Nodoka shook her head sadly.
"Oh." Ranko frowned, then broke into a bright smile. "Okay, if I kin only do
a few of 'em, kin I win some gold medals like Daddy?"
"But what about being a beautiful lady?" Nodoka asked with a bit of
distress.
"Well. " Ranko placed a chubby finger to her lip and tugged pensively on her
pigtail. "Kin I be a boo'ful lady _and_ win a bunch of gold medals?"
"Of course you can, dear!" Nodoka said in relief. "You can win some medals
for rhythmic gymnastics, or perhaps synchronised swimming or ice skating,
wouldn't that be nice?"
"I. guess so." Ranko finally said, smiling as her mother gave her a big hug.
But I _really_ wanna be a sharpshoo'er, like Daddy, she added silently. I
kin be a boo'ful lady too, just you watch me!
***
NERIMA WARD, TOKYO, 1998
Rally's eyes fluttered open and she stared up and the ceiling, a small smile
playing across soft lips. The dream had brought back happy childhood
memories. That had been their last autumn together as a family, before her
parents' bitter divorce proceedings began in 1986. Genma had wanted to take
his daughter on a world tour, to train under the world's greatest marksmen,
much as he had done in his youth. The fights and acrimony that accompanied
that announcement were things Rally preferred not to think about. Her
mother's family had money, thus better lawyers, and she'd been taken away
from her father and forced to watch as Genma Saotome's name was dragged
through the mud.
Ranko was placed in Nodoka's custody for the duration of the separation and
divorce proceedings and, though she loved her mother, she stifled under her
traditionalist teachings. She quickly learned she had a talent for acting
when she was forced to play the part of a dutiful, docile and
stereotypically sweet Japanese schoolgirl at home and in class. It was only
in her rare free time, as well as the weekends and occasional holidays spent
with her father that she let what she felt to be her real self show. Despite
being tinged with the everpresent knowledge that their time together would
be short, Ranko loved her visits to her father's family land in Hokkaido,
where they could spend hours practising her sharpshooting skills.
By the summer of her ninth year, the seemingly-interminable divorce
proceedings had been completed, and Nodoka was awarded sole custody. Three
burly bailiffs had been needed to keep Genma from rushing to the side of his
daughter as she was carried, crying, from the courtroom by her maternal
grandfather.
By the end of the whole sordid affair, Genma had been forced to turn from
his first love, competition shooting, for the quick payoffs and heavy risk
of bounty hunting. Tracking down fugitives and bail jumpers allowed Genma to
make the support payments necessary to ensure he and Rally were able to
spend as much time together as they could, but eventually Genma's luck must
have ran out; he disappeared into the underworld one day and didn't make it
out. He'd been declared legally dead two days before Rally's sixteenth
birthday, the worst day of her young life.
Rally sighed deeply. I'll make you proud of me, Pop, she vowed silently. And
someday, maybe I'll find the bastards who took you out and put them behind
bars for good. That was why she'd taken up her father's profession of bounty
hunting; it was a trade that allowed her to practice the skills her father
had taught her, as well as a way to honour his memory.
A red telltale bulb began to flash silently on her nightstand and she
smiled. Luck-y! A burglar! She rolled silently out of bed and gently tapped
a panel on the wall beside her bed. Well-oiled machinery activated instantly
and the panel slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a miniature armoury.
Rally slid on her shoulder holster and slid her CZ-75 .9 mm automatic into
place, followed quickly by a loaded pump-action twelve-gauge shotgun she
slung across her bare shoulder. Almost as an afterthought, she reached under
her pillow and withdrew her .25, still in its garter holster, and slid it
on. A tingle of heady anticipation raced through her nerves and a warm blush
lit her cheeks.
Sweet, sweet self-defence, she thought, gliding silently to her bedroom
door.
***
Two doors down the hall, Rally's partner and housemate was lost in the
throes of a very different sort of dream. In her fevered subconscious,
skilled, powerful hands played her body like a fine instrument, wringing
gasps and moans of pleasurable delight from her throat. Her own hands
mirrored those in her dream, roaming languorously across her sleeping form.
Her blue-black, chin-length hair was pasted to her neck and forehead with
sweat as she writhed in ecstasy under the talented fingers of her dream
lover.
"Ohhh. Tofu. Again. " she cried softly, still lost in the dream of her
lover, vanished for two long years, his long, talented fingers as adept at
pleasuring her as they were at constructing or defusing explosives, the
tangy scent of sweating dynamite on his warm flesh like an explosive
cologne.
These fevered, erotic dreams weren't unfamiliar to Akane Hopkins, Minnie-A
to her friends. They happened at least twice a weak, and were both
satisfying and frustrating, since she still hadn't been able to track down
Tofu since they'd been separated in Yokohama's Chinatown while running from
the Yakuza. He'd taken her under his wing, teaching her everything she knew
about explosives, even helping her develop her signature weapon, the
no-frag, no-shrapnel concussive grenades she'd nicknamed "Hammers".
Hammers weren't the only weapon in her arsenal; she was expert in the use of
regular frag grenades, pipe bombs, dynamite and basically every other form
of portable explosive known to man. Her Tofu had been a demolitions man in
the JSDF before going freelance after his discharge, doing everything from
demolitions to making car-bombs for the Yakuza. It was because of a botched
hit against a Triad boss in Yokohama that they'd gone underground- Tofu had
disappeared of the face of the earth, and Minnie-A began her second
professional career. At Madame Cologne's famed brothel, the Purple Pussy,
she quickly became, thanks to her half-white features and tiny stature, one
of the most popular and skilled prostitutes in Yokohama.
It was those talents, 3000 year-old Chinese skills of pleasure and pain,
that she hoped to demonstrate to her Tofu-chan once she found him again. At
least in her dreams, Tofu was every bit as skilled, and she was rapidly
approaching her third climax -well, third set of firecracker-repeating ones,
anyway- when she was rudely awakened by a familiar hand shaking her by the
shoulder.
"Minnie! Get your hands out of there and wake up! We've got an intruder!"
Rally whispered roughly, rolling her eyes at her oversexed partner.
"Tsk! Just because _you_ aren't getting any is no reason to deprive me of my
fun, Rally!" Minnie scowled, absently drying her hand on a corner of sheet.
"Playing with yourself does _not_ constitute 'getting some', Minnie!"
"Bi-daah!" Minnie-A responded with a redeye, flinging off the covers and
hiking up her tiny silk panties. "So, what's going on? What do we do?"
"_We_ don't do anything, Minnie-A. You sit tight here and be ready to
protect yourself if they get this far. I'm gonna try to take 'em out before
they hit the stairs."
"Ri-ight. C'mon, Rally! You need my help!"
"What I _need_ is for you to not be blowing up the house, you little
bomb-freak!"
"That's 'explosives-expert' to you, miss pistol-packin' momma, and I'll use
a smoker or a sleep gas grenade! C'mon Rally, I'm a bounty-hunter too,
y'know!"
"Look, Minnie-A, if I shoot this guy, It's self-defence; they broke into my
house, I've got a permit for these weapons and a license to carry. If you go
setting off bombs, not only do I have to fix the house _again_, you could go
to jail!"
Minnie-A sniffed haughtily, but looked somewhat mollified. "Okay, okay. It's
not as if I can deprive you of your invaluable partner, now can I? Besides,
if you get in trouble you'll need me to bail you out!"
Rally spared her a smile. "Right. Sit tight, kiddo, I'll make this quick."
Rally grinned as she slid soundlessly out the door into the hall.
"Hee-hee. You can't fool me, Rally Saotome," Minnie-A laughed softly. "This
kind of thing turns you on, too. A pro like me _always_ knows."
***
"Holy shit, the boss was right! This place is a freakin' arsenal!" Ryo
Ichijoji stared around in amazement at the weapons that adorned the walls of
the hidden room they'd discovered. "How th' heck does a babe like that
Saotome chick get her hands on shit like this?" he reached out and hefted
what looked like for all the world like a helicopter chain-gun grafted to
the stock and grip of a heavy machine gun.
His brother Kensuke grinned as he slung an honest-to-Buddha bazooka over his
shoulder and went in search of some small arms. "She owns that gun-shop over
on 28th street, "Mavericks". Y'know, the place right across from that ramen
joint?" He strapped on a pair of .45 police specials in a holster belt,
gathering up a half-dozen magazines and stuffing them into his jacket and
loading the two on his belt. "Shee-it, man, one stop shopping." He hunkered
down into a gunfighter's pose and performed a sloppy quick draw. "Hey-hey!
Check me out, man, I'm a freakin' cowboy!"
Ken slowly drew a bead on his brother's head, grinning viciously. "I
want'cha ta tell me somethin' punk, d'ya feel lucky? Well, do ya?"
Ryo scowled. "Cut that shit out, man, that ain't funny!"
Kensuke laughed, lowering the gun. "Aw, lighten up, man. I'm just playin'
wit'cha. The safety's on, see?" He swung the gun up towards the ceiling and
squeezed the trigger-
KA-BLAM!
A small flurry of plaster drifted down to decorate Ken's head. "Uhh. Oops?"
"DAMMIT!!" Ryo yelled, lunging for his brother and snatching for the loaded
weapon. "You probably woke up the whole freakin' neighbourhood!"
"Sure woke _me_ up, boys." A feminine voice called from the doorway. Rally
Saotome stood square in the doorframe, her pump-action aimed steadily at the
two intruders. Despite her scanty night-clothes, ogling her charms was the
last things on the Ichijoji brothers' minds as they stared into the twin
barrels. "It's bad enough you're trying to rob me, but you shoot up my
ceilings? Tsk-tsk."
"Aw, shit," the Ichijojis' chorused. They shared a brief look, then dove
sideways in opposite directions, Ken unloading a round in Rally's direction
as he rolled.
The heavy round took a chunk out of the doorframe to her left as Rally
squeezed the first trigger, the light birdshot load slamming cleanly into
Ken's gun hand. With a loud curse, he dropped the ruined .45 and clutched
his wounded hand to his chest.
Rally swung around, bringing the shotgun to bear on Ryo, only to come face
to face with the chain-gun.
She barely dove out the doorframe as the high-speed rounds made short work
of the wall, doorframe, and the stairs beyond.
Stupid, Rally, real stupid, she mentally cursed herself as she scurried into
the cinder-block reinforced furnace room. Snappy patter comes _after _ the
gunplay, not before!
"Haw-haw!" This is freakin' great!" Ryo laughed as he released the trigger
on the chaingun. "I could take on a whole freakin' SWAT team with this
thing!"
"Yeah, it's pretty -hanh, hanh- freakin' cool, Ryo," Ken gasped, out
cradling his hand as he clambered to his feet. "Fuck this hurts. You sure
the bitch is dead?"
Something metallic and heavy went: clunk-clunk-clunk.
The Ichijoji brothers looked down as a baseball-sized dull metal egg rolled
up between their feet.
"Mother Pus-bucket." Ken cursed in the instant before the world went white
and an invisible Mack truck collided with his body.
***
Rally huddled into her bathrobe and sat on the kerb across from her
thoroughly-burned house, waiting in resignation as the fire-fighters and
police went over the scene. A small blue-black haired form sat beside her,
looking apologetic.
"Jeez, 'A, Didja _have_ to use the frag grenade in the house?"
"I _said_ I was sorry, Rally! It was dark, I thought it was a gas grenade!"
"You little bomb-freak! I can't believe you! I thought I told you to stay in
your room!"
"Well, ex-cuse me! I figured you needed backup! Your twelve-gauge was doing
_so_ well against the chain gun!"
Rally buried her face in her hands and moaned. "If only it hadn't set off
virtually everything in the ammo locker."
A man cleared his throat. "Ahem. Excuse me, ladies?"
The girls looked up into the goatee'd face of Detective Lieutenant Soun
Coleman. He smiled crookedly at the pair.
"Hi, Soun. Here to run me in for possession of illegal weapons?" Rally
sighed, getting to her feet.
"Hunh? You mean that lump of melted metal in the basement? You saying. on
the record, mind you. that that used to be illegal weapons?" Soun smiled,
exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke from his nostrils.
"Ah. No, not saying any such thing." Rally temporised, laughing nervously.
"Good," Soun finished, crushing out his cigarette with his foot. "I'd hate
to arrest my best bounty hunter over something a silly as improper weapon
storage or somesuch. Your Daddy, may he rest in peace, would never forgive
me." He took a deep breath, and all humour left his features. "Rally, one of
the perps is conscious, and talking. Says his boss told him where to find
your stash. Have you stepped on any toes lately?"
Minnie-A laughed. "Hey, that's all she does!"
Rally spared her petite partner a glare before answering. "Not that I know
of. All of my recent collars were independents, as far as I know. You know I
don't take on Yaks or Triads if I can help it; I like living."
"Hmm." Soun stroked his moustache pensively. "Both these guys tonight have
records as long as my arm, but they aren't connected, as far as the
organised crime squad can tell. They've got all their digits, and there
isn't a tattoo in sight on either of them. The Ichijoji brothers have
_always_ been strictly small-time.
"Unless they're trying to move up in the world. Or their boss is." Rally
contributed.
"We'll see. Ken Ichijoji's squealing like a pig, I'm sure he'll turn on his
gang. I'll let you know if your name comes up."
"Thanks, Soun, I appreciate it."
"So where are you two staying? I'd offer to put you up, but my eldest is
home from college this month, and I don't have a spare room."
"We'll manage, Soun, thanks anyway. You can reach me on my cell if you need
me for anything. Thank the gods I left it in the car last night."
"Thank the gods your garage is practically a bomb-shelter, you mean,"
Minnie-A razzed.
"I wouldn't _need_ a 'bomb shelter' if it wasn't for you, Miss Short-Fuse!"
"Oh yeah? Oh yeah?!"
Soun wisely chose that moment to check the barricades.
***
The morning dawned hot and humid, typical of mid-August. If the populace of
Nerima was lucky, there'd be a rainstorm or two around noon, providing a
temporary break in the humidity. Salarymen, beginning the long commute into
Tokyo proper, thank the gods that at least they were allowed to wear
short-sleeves at last.
In the back room of "Mavericks" gun shop, two feminine forms stirred beneath
a blanket. With a contented sigh, Rally Saotome opened her eyes. "Ah, air
conditioning. I oughtta move in here for the rest of the summer."
Minnie-A was mumbling in her sleep again about something or other, drooling
cutely. Rally spared her a smile and made to get up, only to find herself
immobilised by ninety pounds of cuddlesome bomb-freak. As that awareness
dawned, another realisation crossed Rally's mind and she froze, a cold sweat
breaking out on her forehead.
"Minnie. Oh, Min-nie. Wake up." Rally whispered nervously. The petite
brunette's eyes fluttered open and she smiled softly.
"Oh. Morning, Ral'. "
"Minnie, where are your hands?" Rally asked with a calmness verging on
hysteria.
"B'tween two pillows."
"Those aren't PILLOWS!" Rally yelped, bursting out of bed with a second of
panicky strength and backing quickly across the room.
Minnie-A blinked twice as she woke up all the way. "What?"
"Y-you. You were GROPING me!!" Rally hollered, dressing rapidly.
"You _wish_," Minnie assured her, clambering off the couch and staggering
towards the bathroom, scratching briefly at her lower back. "You must've
cuddled up to me. I have it on good authority that I'm irresistible, thank
you. You probably couldn't contain your perverted hormones." With a saucy
waggle of panty-clad hips, Minnie disappeared into the bathroom.
"I. Wha. Hey!" Rally fumed. "You little nympho!"
"Better than a nineteen-year-old virrr-gin." Minnie called from behind the
locked door.
"Hmmph! Y'know, that's really uncute!" Rally grumbled.
A Bronx cheer was the only response.
***
After breakfast had been improvised and demolished, Rally took the time to
make a few calls. Soun had only finished his shift two hours ago, and
wouldn't be in until late afternoon. Hinako, his assistant, wished her the
best, but couldn't help her with the investigation files since she didn't
have the authority to release them without Soun's say-so.
The next call was to the unofficial third member of the team, Nabiki "The
Nose" Farrah.
"Yo, 'Biki. I need you to do some sniffing for me," Rally said with a grin,
leaning back in her chair and propping her feet up on the desk.
At the other end of the line, Biki adjusted her stylish glasses as she
brought up a spreadsheet on her PC. "Sure thing, Rally dear. As soon as you
clear up the outstanding balance in your account."
Rally's grin fell. "Aw, c'mon, gimmie a break, girlfriend. My house just got
totalled. Money's a little short right now."
"Tsk-tsk-tsk. You _know_ I don't do anything on _credit_, hon."
Rally groaned. "Yeah, that's you all right. A regular slave to money.
Listen, how about a percentage of the take on this job."
"Job? What job?" Biki checked a file. "You aren't on any job right now. I
checked."
"Yeah, well. I've got a feeling about the guys who torched my house."
Minnie-A piped up from behind Rally. "Oh, so _now_ you admit it wasn't my
fault?"
"Quiet, you. Biki, I'm serious here, I really need this info."
Biki tapped her pen lightly against pearly teeth. "We-ell."
"Plee-eeze?" Rally cooed.
"You're making the cute eyes, aren't you?"
"Yup!"
Sigh. "You know those don't work over the phone, Rally. Okay, fine. I'll do
it for. forty percent."
"Wha-aat?! Chiseler!"
"Beggars can't be choosers, Rally dear. Take it or leave it."
Where does someone go from here? Well, an even mix of the Ranma and GSC
storylines is do-able. Most of Rally Vincent's opponents have some kind of
erotic fixation with her, so their roles can easly be filled by fiancees or
rivals. I suggest the following fusions:
Ryoga Hibiki / Bean Bandit: The Road-Hog. Stupidly strong and durable,
incredible hand to hand fighter, best damn getaway driver in Tokyo (no one
can catch him 'cause even he doesn't know where he's going.) Drives a
customised, souped-up Volkswagen Beetle called B-chan, black with a yellow
racing stripe, liscence plate BWI 576. A certain sexual tension exists
between him and Rally.
Kodachi Kuno / Goldie: The Gilded Rose. Uses mind control drugs to enslave
her foes, turning them into willing sex-slaves for her pleasure. Yakuza
enforcer, later oyabun.
Tatewaki Kuno / Grey: The Grey Thunder. After losing a hand in a showdown
with Rally, this crime boss has a bokken attached to his stump and seeks
revenge. Has a hate-lust on for Rally, his "Pig-Tailed Shootist"
Kasumi Tendo / Misty Brown: Kasumi Brown: Sweet-tempered, lesbian
catburglar. A good friend and ally of Rally, who occasionally makes passes.
Ex-con making good, she uses her talents to help the Mavericks investigate
targets.
Ukyo Kuonji / Riff-Raff: Name ? Semi-friendly rival of RoadHog and Rally. A
getaway driver with a history.
Genma Saotome / Rally's Dad: Mr. G. Former bounty hunter now drugged
enforcer for the Gilded Lily; the only person who can outshoot Rally.
Shampoo and Mousse / Bonnie and Clyde: Names ? Rogue cleaners for a Chinese
Triad, obsessed with killing Rally, since she prevented them from making a
high-profile hit.
What about the romance? Well, look for plenty of lesbian subtext (in true
Sonoda fashion) between Rally and Minnie-A, but don't look for "true love"
to bloom- GSC's only love story is between Minnie-May and Ken, so look for
some eventual Lemony-Lime moments between Minnie-A and Tofu. In keeping with
GSC, Rally's sole romance is with her car. What about a boy-type Ranma? I'd
rather keep away from Jusenkyo with this story, but if someone can find a
away to make it work in a GSC-style milieu, be my guest.
Anyone wishing to continue this story may feel free, I think it'd be a hoot
to read. Unfortunately, I've too many projects of my own to work on, so this
one'll have to go up for bids. Any takers?
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