Ah My Goddess Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Pangea ❯ Going Nuclear ( Chapter 12 )

A Tale of Two Wallets

 

(An Altered Destiny)

 

Pangea

 

(The Land That Time Forgot)

 

Written by Jim Robert Bader

 

Proofread by Shiva Barnwell

 

 

“<How do you like the repairs that are presently being rendered to your vessel?>”

 

The Captain of the Nekonron airship nodded in affirmation as he studied the details of the work being done upon his vessel then said in a thoughtful tone, “<Most impressive, Admiral Challenger. Your people are quite good, and I am amazed at the speed with which they engineered the replacement parts that we needed. At the rate with which they are going we can be airborne once more within the next forty-eight hours.>”

 

“<Somewhat less than that, if I know my own people,>” Challenger mused as he surveyed his own handiwork in the small portion of the hanger taken up by the Nekonron repair crew, his own proud airship, the Invincible, dominating the rest of the chamber and dwarfing the tiny Chinese vessel like a whale to a shark, “<In fact it should be no trouble at all to get you on your way again within the next twenty-four hours. You may then convey my respects to your Prince and tell him that I wish well for his recent marriage to the lady Li-Chi.>”

 

“<As you wish it, Admiral,>” the Captain replied, “<It would be the least service that I could render to you for all your troubles, not to mention the fact that you are quite possibly saving my life since the Prince will be most displeased with me on hearing about the incident on Pangea Island.>”

 

“<I will leave it to you to craft a report that will reflect somewhat better on the performance of you and your crew,>” Challenger replied, “<But I may be able to help somewhat by giving you a letter explaining conditions that brought your party so unfortunately close into the line of a disaster…>”

 

“Admiral!” one of Challenger's people reported, making haste to run upon the skywalk ramp that they had been crossing, and waving a cell phone in a somewhat urgent manner.

 

“What is it, Doris?” Challenger asked of the breathless blonde officer making haste to his side.

 

“Call for you on the emergency hotline,” the lieutenant explained, passing the phone along to her employer before resting her hands on her knees while she sought to get her wind back.

 

“The hotline?” Challenger frowned as he took the phone then gave an apologetic nod to the Nekonron Captain and his lieutenants, “<You will excuse me, gentlemen. Business and all that.>”

 

“<We quite understand, Admiral,>” the Captain replied, making a dismissive hand gesture.

 

Challenger turned from his guests and took a few steps off down the ramp in order to obtain the privacy that he needed, then very tersely he said, “This is Challenger, how can I…”

 

“Magnus, my dear old friend,” a voice that would have chilled a corpse responded in ingratiating tones of false solicitousness, “It has been a while, has it not? Still playing the Nemo role, I see…?”

 

Challenger's expression darkened abruptly and his dark-dark eyes glanced at the cell phone as though he were holding a viper, hissing out a single word to exclaim his displeasure, “Silas.”

 

“I've been given to understand that you've had some recent troubles with some tourists on that island of yours…most unfortunate business, but I am pleased to learn that no one was seriously hurt…unless you count those unfortunate natives.”

 

Challenger did his best to keep his temper even while he replied, “That matter is being rectified even as we speak. Your agents must have informed you of the details, so why mention that which is already past?”

 

“My dear Magnus,” the voice on the other end replied, “For us the past is always very much alive and relevant, our having lived through so much of it and all. You know that I have always been quite fascinated with the study of those primitive life forms that you safeguard…but shame on you for allowing things to be spoiled for those Neanderthals. Why, from what I hear tell one of your guests committed near genocide upon the whole lot, and all because they tried to eat her, just imagine…”

 

It took greater effort than usual for Magnus to keep his tone at a level where his other guests would not likely hear him, “I should have intervened in that sector a long time ago were it not for my certain…dealings with a lady who shall go unmentioned, but I hardly see what business any of this of yours, **old friend…**”

 

“Dear me, are you still upset with me about that business in East Timor? That was two weeks ago, ancient history, as you say. Hardly the stuff for going to war about and all that…”

 

“What do you want, Silas?” Magnus snapped, even his legendary patience now being tested to its limits.”

 

“Ah yes, to business,” the voice on the other end sighed, “This really isn't a social call, I am sad to say. You see…ah…this is rather embarrassing for me to have to admit…but…there is this little…problem that I'm having with one of my employees…”

 

“Which one?” Magnus asked, suddenly all business.

 

“Red Saladin,” Silas replied, “You see…how should I put this? It seems that he's gone a bit round the bend as it were…fanatics. What can you do about them? They can be so useful in a great many ways, but then they get it into their fool heads that they can make policy for their employers, as if I had not raised the boy and cultured him to have more sense than this. Rather shocking example of biting the hand that feeds you…”

 

“Red Saladin,” Magnus repeated, and if it were possible for his stomach to churn at that point it most certainly would have, “What has that fatherless bastard done this time?”

 

“Language, dear sir, language,” Silas chided, coughing a bit before adding, “I'm…ah…well, as I say, this is somewhat embarrassing, but…what we have here is what is known in the trade as a Broken Arrow…”

 

Magnus nearly dropped his cell phone, “No…”

 

“I'm afraid yes,” Silas sighed again, “You see…there was this briefcase-sized nuke that I'd recently obtained from the Russian Consortium through…how shall I put this? Backdoor channels…quite a good bargain on it, I might add. Unfortunately Saladin got word of the transaction and, well…he's in Paris right now, and I do believe he intends to blow something up as a means of finding his way to paradise, taking a good portion of the city with him.”

 

“You're people can't stop him?” Magnus asked.

 

“I'm afraid the people with him are some of my people…ones he trained personally to insure their loyalty—to himself, unfortunately,” Silas explained, “Quite understandable that they mean to Jihad, considering what I will personally do to them should any of them survive the next several hours, but at the moment I am on a plane bound for the Swiss Alps, and if you had any sense at all you would be doing the same thing…”

 

“Lieutenant!” Magnus snapped, “Code Red! Scramble the Invincible, and get every field agent within the nearest thirty kilometers, and tell them it's priority Blue! Move!”

 

“I don't see what good any of that will do, other than to get good people killed,” Silas advised, “If you cared about them at all you'd move as much of your operation as you could out of harm's way…but, seeing as you always have to play the part of the hero, I suppose I shall just have to rely on you acting within character and doing my dirty work for me, finding Saladin and dispatching his five megaton suitcase-sized device.”

 

Magnus glared at the cell phone once again then said, “I don't suppose you'd care to clue me in where your employee is about, would you?”

 

“If I knew that then he would already be dead,” Silas replied, “But I have a very good idea of where he is likely to turn up since a device of this magnitude works best when elevated above ground level…say, around three hundred meters near the center of the city.”

 

“The Eiffel tower?” Magnus's eyes widened.

 

“That would be my best estimate, and the numbers do favor that location,” Silas answered, “I honestly do wish you well since I would dearly miss Paris if you fail in your endeavors. As I know you will survive, regardless of how this turns out, I will speak with you again when it is all over but for the shouting. Do keep in mind, however, that with current international political tensions, brought about by the present bumbling resident of the White House and his Evangelical retinue of bible-thumping halfwits, should a major European city disappear beneath a mushroom cloud, it might be misinterpreted as an attack by a major world power, and that could lead to a great deal more unpleasantness than even I would enjoy creating. No pressure, I just thought you might want the reminder. Silas out.”

 

Magnus snapped the phone shut and glared darkly at nothing in particular, but in his minds eye he could see a war to end all wars resulting from the catastrophe that the man known as Red Saladin was no doubt hoping to engineer, and he knew that a race against time had already begun. Even scrambling every available field agent that he had, however, it was unlikely that they would arrive in time to defuse this crisis, which meant that the fate of the world hung in the balance and if ever there were a need for heroes this day must surely call for them.

 

But where could one find heroes to stand athwart World War Three when a madman clutching at promethean fire clearly had the upper hand and was already five steps ahead of even the likes of Magnus the Immortal…?

 

 

“Step lively, Students,” Miss Hinako urged, “Remember that we represent the honor of Furinkan High School, so we must conduct ourselves in accordance to diplomatic protocols…”

 

“Hey, wait a minute,” Usagi protested, “We're not students at Furinkan…”

 

“Well, some of us anyway,” Rei noted as she glanced at Ukyo and Akane, “But I think the point is we don't want to come across looking like a bunch of ill-mannered tourists.”

 

“Now then, Students,” Hinako began as they approached the base of the massive metal tower, “The Eiffel Tower was constructed in the year 1889 by the Gustave Eiffel et Cei Company in time to celebrate the centennial anniversary of the French Revolution. It required two years, two months and five days to build using the most up-to-date technology of the age and it stands at a height of over 324 meters, the last twelve of which were added in more recent times by means of a communications spire at the top of the structure. It required over seven thousand three hundred tons of metal to build the framework and it has a total mass of over ten thousand metric tons, and its surface area is such that it needs to be repainted every decade to prevent the tower from weathering under the constant onslaught of environmental corrosion.”

 

“Sensei,” Ukyo spoke up, “Our own Tokyo Tower was patterned after this one, but because of superior construction methods ours is thirty meters taller and several thousand metric tons lighter, right?”

 

“Very good, Kuonji-san,” Hinako nodded with approval, “But for its time this tower was a marvel of construction, and yet for all its size it has only three floors, the lower, middle and tower levels that define the general structure of the building. Now, if you'll follow me this way we'll get in line to ride the elevator system to the first floor where we will enjoy the pavilions there and take in one of their world-famous restaurants.”

 

“Do we have enough francs to afford to dine here?” Ryoga asked, “I know Admiral Challenger loaned us some credit cards and some pocket money to help us get around in this place…”

 

“Oh yeah,” Usagi grinned, “Shopping money. We still haven't checked out the boutiques to price some really snazzy French fashions…”

 

“Down girl,” Rei smiled, “Time enough for us to go on a shopping spree after Minako and Makoto catch up with us. You just know they'd go ballistic if we started without them.”

 

“Yes, that would not be pretty,” Ami agreed with an exaggerated shudder, then all three Senshi shared a private chuckle at the expense of their absent colleagues.

 

“I'm curious to know what the view is like at the top of the tower,” Akane mused as she stared up the length from the base to the spire, holding Ukyo by the hand as she added, “I hear that you can see the whole of Paris from up there. Wouldn't that be romantic, Ucchan?”

 

“Ah…” the okonomiyaki chef replied, feeling the tide of events sliding once more out of her means to control since she had wanted a heart-to-heart talk with Akane that did not slide off into yet another romantic encounter. She had enough trouble staving off the possibility of either breaking Akane's heart or getting sucked into another sexual situation, either of which extreme would be extraordinarily awkward, to say nothing of imperiling Ukyo's relationship with Makoto, her fiancée.

 

Hinako was busy scanning the signs explaining times, dates and expenses before leading their party to the appropriate line, which was not as long as one might have expected it to be at this time of the day, year and season. Once purchases were made they proceeded towards the elevator system…unaware that other parties were already boarding the cars ahead of them carrying odd suitcases that by rights should have been scanned for their contents. This stunning lapse of security went unnoticed because the regular guards on duty had been “replaced” by imposters in preparation for the event that was to follow, but Ukyo did have a precognitive sense of something being amiss when she made eye-contact with one of the guards. For an instant she sensed a feeling of **wrongness** about the fellow, her ninja instincts going on full alert and warning her to be on the alert for possible trouble. After all, her instincts about such things were seldom wrong and always came in handy.

 

Someone else was alert to the fact that something did not “feel” right about the setting, but Happosai was too busy chasing after the local French women to give his instincts too much attention. He was mindful to heed Hinako's summons when the teacher crossly ordered him to return to his side, and having no taste for being drained by his easily aroused girlfriend made him unusually docile even while fighting the urge to go after every “cutie” he came across.

 

The elevator doors closed on one particularly swarthy group of “tourists,” the lead of which was a dark eyed individual with a fiercely condescending expression, the gleam of fanaticism evident in his eyes as he kept close to a plain gray looking metal suitcase that was held by a subordinate, an ominous container whose deadly contents were to prove to be the source of much impending agitation…

 

 

Shampoo's Diary Continues:

 

I confess that I do not understand the taste preferences of foreigners, but perhaps I am simply being provincial, as my mother is wont to label me on such occasions as this where I got to dine with my loved ones in an exotic restaurant called the “Chardin d'Affairs,” as peculiar a setting as any that I have ever patronized, and not just because of what was to happen on this particular occasion when we were to meet the son of the proprietor, but more on him in another few moments.

 

One of the more peculiar things that I have learned from living among the Japanese is that they have odd notion that they are really a part of Europe instead of Asia. This comes from their notorious preference for modern Western technology and lifestyles, but I think it also carried with it a kind of disdain that they have for the people of other Asian communities, something that I, being of Chinese descent, am sensitive to and have been made aware of on more than one occasion. That the Japanese have a fondness for all things European is quite legendary, and this extends to European cuisine, especially French food, which we had come to sample. Frankly, though, I don't see what the big deal is all about since Chinese food is perfectly well suited to anyone's nutritional needs (and costs a good deal less from what I gather), and besides, we invented many of the condiments that Westerners tend to take for granted in their meals, like pasta, spices and bread rolls, all of which the West seems to take credit for as though they are purposefully forgetting the many contributions of China to the development of civilization.

 

I will say this much for these French…they certainly can build to opulence when they have a mind to, and the place was aesthetically pleasing to the eye with architecture that hearkened back to another era. The atmosphere was pleasantly cordial and there was a relaxing orchestral tune being played by a live band situated in the main ball room of the restaurant, and the waiters seemed polite enough from what I could tell of their barbaric language (of course they tended to look down their noses at you and spoke as if they were explaining things to a small child, but I've come to find that typical of most of the Frenchmen that I encountered). Since Elder Lotion conducted most of the negotiations (she alone among us was fluent in the French language) we were treated well enough and soon shown to our table (after a complimentary bribe by Nabiki, who seemed to think such gestures were a necessary gratuity here) and given menus to read that were printed in both Japanese and Chinese (a boon for which I was immensely grateful). Then we were left to decide things among us, even as we took the time to study both our surroundings and the oddly people who made up both the clientele and the staff.

 

Of more concern to me was the fact that we were being asked to eat with Western-styled utensils rather than normal chopsticks. I am, of course, familiar with the usage of a knife, spoon, and fork, but they still seemed odd in my hands, much too clumsy to be used for eating. I would rather have used my fingers than to attempt to make a fool of myself playing with the silly things, yet for the sake of good manners I resolved to make a good effort. After all, I did not wish to embarrass my airen by eating like a barbarian (though in Ranma's case I don't suppose it would have made all that much of a difference).

 

Perhaps I should mention at this point that we were dressed in the local style since our clothing had not survived our travails in Pangea, and I had on a rather lovely pink dress that Nabiki had personally selected for me, one that showed off my figure to such effect that Ranma had been stunned to speechlessness for several minutes, by which I judge that he gave his tacit approval. Nabiki was similarly wearing a green silk outfit that had an appropriate side-slit to show off generous portions of her legs and was low cut enough that I could have drooled all day just studying her magnificent profile. Ranma looked as handsome as always in a fairly unisexed silk shirt with matching black slacks that would suit him in either of his two genders. The three of us set quite a fashion statement if I do say so myself, and only Elder Lotion appeared in her usual robes of office, though she carried herself with the dignity and bearing of an Amazon and thus was above mere considerations of fashion.

 

She was still in Teacher mode, lecturing to my wife and giving Nabiki the leading questions and oblique half-answers that are standard for an Elder, and I watched with some amusement as Nabiki tried to grasp with the concepts that Lotion was sharing, knowing that these words had deep significance to my airen, even if much of it was as over my head as it obviously was for Ranma. But then again, we are War Masters, and Lore Master thinking is clearly not for the likes of us (for which I give great thanks to my dear ancestors).

 

For example, at one point in the conversation I heard Nabiki say, “So…you're saying what happened to me back there is that I came near to experiencing death…and this triggered some kind of catalytic reaction in my subconscious, which is why I'm suddenly more in tune with my powers?”

 

“The moment when you faced death as a very real prospect was the moment when you came closest to experiencing reality without your normal apprehensions, my Apprentice,” Lotion replied, “Death is a doorway through which all mortals must pass, but we can refuse to leave before our time when the threat of dying is imposed upon us by an enemy. You reached deep down into yourself and discovered a will to live that was stronger than your fear of dying, and that is why you became as one with the power that is your birthright, when you chose to act rather than be passive.”

 

“So,” Ranma spoke up, “Nabiki gained these new abilities because she wanted to live?”

 

“No, young War Master,” Lotion gently chided, “Your airen has always had this potential lying dormant within her, like a sleeping serpent coiled at the base of her spine, the same potential that lies within all humans yet few of us can realize within a single lifetime. What prevents the common man or woman from discovering this psychic serpent is the self-imposed limitation of fear that blinds us against our potential. Ordinary people fear the touch of Promethean fire that burns at such a low level within the average conscious mind. It takes someone of extraordinary character to reach down and embrace this fire, and of the many who attempt this there are many who get burned because of a lack of preparation. Power and the wisdom to utilize it must be nurtured together in order to blossom…and yet power without wisdom is spiritually useless and ultimately of no real value.”

 

“Kunalindi,” Nabiki spoke aloud with an altogether comprehensive expression.

 

“Precisely,” Lotion nodded in approval.

 

“You mean what you do when you wanna make a girl have an orgasm?” Ranma asked.

 

“No, you baka,” Nabiki chided with a smile, “But…you're close enough to the answer.”

 

“Indeed,” Lotion noted, “Cunnalingus can bring one closer to heaven if done correctly, but what I mean to imply is the awakening of the psychic channels through practice, meditation and self-enlightenment. The ability to perform seeming miracles is nothing more than awakening to your hidden potential. All knowledge is present within us…like a blank sheet of paper that contains within it the potential to draw any line or form that can be imagined. Wisdom is learning to see the patterns that are inherent, and drawing the lines is to actuate them and give meaning to their potential.”

 

“And doing stuff like that makes you a Lore Master?” Ranma asked.

 

“It means that you learn how to listen to the silent voice within you,” Lotion answered, “To see what is hidden, to sense what is unknown, to hear the sound of the music of the spheres and to be able to touch the lines of destiny and to shape them to your understanding.”

 

“And everyone has the same potential as me?” Nabiki asked.

 

“More or less,” the Elder explained, “You were born with psychic ties to the akashik realm, which is what distinguishes you from an ordinary person. Even absent my training you could sense a little bit of what goes on in your surroundings and intuitively grasp a tiny measure of the knowledge that lies within you. Being a Lore Master is like awakening from a dream into your true nature…and have you tried the steamed mushrooms topped with cream sauce? They simply are to die for…”

 

See what I mean? Typical Elder…

 

Still and all, it was a pleasant enough meal when served to us (even if I turned my nose up at some of the items on the menu, and who in their right mind eats snails out of season?) from what I was able to sample, but almost from the first I had a sense that something would go amiss when I saw a sign-card that had been on the serving tray, which somehow wound up next to me and bore some curious lettering that seemed to be written in the style of an invitation. I asked Elder Lotion what it said and she turned it around before saying, “Interesting, a curious form of complimentary challenge.”

 

“Oh?” Nabiki spoke up over a mouth full of steamed vegetables, “What sort of challenge?”

 

I noticed Ranma's ears perked up upon the word (he had been in the process of stuffing his mouth full of lobster—minus the shell—when he heard this uttered) even as Nabiki asked, “What sort of challenge?”

 

In response to this question, the Elder read the card aloud and said, “Be it known to any guest of this establishment that the Chardin family takes great pride in serving the finest cuisine in all of France, including the rest of the world…”

 

“Sounds like Kuonji could take modesty lessons from these guys,” Nabiki smirked.

 

“…And be it known that should anyone care to test us, we issue you the following challenge: eat all you like in the time before a Chardin can finish his meal and your dinner will be compliments of the house.”

 

“Huh?” Ranma matched me for blank-faced incomprehension as we both turned that one over in our minds.

 

“Sounds to me like they're issuing an eating contest,” Nabiki smirked, “Eat all you can before a member of the house and your meal is free.”

 

“Free?” Ranma sat up more alertly, and I could see by the sparkle in his eyes that he liked the sound of this particular challenge.

 

“Indeed,” a familiar voice spoke up, “It does appear as though the Chardin clan has a singular reputation for gluttony to match their excellent craft in culinary delights and service.”

 

“Eh?” we all turned to see Kodachi and Kasumi walk up to us arm-in-arm in formal dresses that were even more opulent than our own, and complimentary towards each other, of course.

 

“Oneechan?” Nabiki asked.

 

“Imoutochan,” Kasumi responded, “So, did you receive an invitation to dine here too?”

 

“Invitation?” Ranma blinked.

 

“Indeed,” Kodachi produced a card (very similar to the one on our table) that had engraved gold lettering upon it and said, “It was sent to our hotel room compliments of the Chardin family. Kasumi and I were tending to her new pet when the staff informed us that one Picolet Chardin was anxious to meet with us, and there were similarly invitations addressed to both you and Akane.”

 

“To me?” Nabiki blinked, “Some guy in Paris knows we're here and wants to see us?”

 

“What about?” Ranma scowled, even as I frowned in matching apprehension.

 

“I have no idea what this is about, Nabiki,” Kasumi replied, smiling as she touched the arm that Kodachi had linked with hers, looking every bit affectionate at the intimacy of said contact, “But Ko-chan thought it would be nice to dine out together, and she's offered to buy me anything that I'd like that's on the menu.”

 

“I'll just bet,” Nabiki growled softly, and I had to smile a bit for her sake since I know how my wife feels about the crazy rose girl's association with her older sister.

 

Just then a new voice was heard, “Ah, you're all here, I see…magnifique! Then we can get started on matters of business…the business of the heart, which has drawn us all together.”

 

“Huh?” Ranma asked as we all turned to see a handsome young man with short blonde hair standing before us with a tricolor cape wrapped around his shoulders…a cape that matched the French national flag colors of red, white and blue, to which my husband asked on our behalf, “Who the heck are you?”

 

“The name is Picolet Chardin II of La Belle France,” he proclaimed in oddly accented Japanese, then with a sweep of his arm he caused the cape to vanish, and all at once a table heavily laden with food was spread out before us in place of our half-eaten dinner, only now extended to twice its length so as to accommodate yet more diners.

 

I admit to being no less impressed with this than any of the others present, though it was Kasumi to gasped aloud and said, “Oh my…he didn't even spill a drop of food…how very talented you are, Monsieur.”

 

“My thanks to you, gentle maiden,” the young man bowed to the eldest Tendo daughter and took Kasumi by one hand to kiss it, then straightened out to give us a good look at his incredibly handsome and elegant apparel of matching white shirt, coat and tails with only a red bow tie and a blue kerchief exposed in one pocket to add color to this array, even as he produced a rose and handed it to Nabiki, adding suavely, “And may I say that such beauty as you possess lights up the room with your heavenly grace?”

 

I saw both sisters look non-plussed at the man who had just complimented them, but Ranma and Kodachi found something to agree upon, for once, as both glared in deadly heat towards the man who had just flirted with our significant others. I also frowned a bit and stared hard at Nabiki, who seemed more puzzled than flattered by the man's roguish manners. Just the same I tightened my fist on the fork that I was holding in my hand and—quite without noticing it, mind you—bent it nearly double. Only Lotion seemed aloof and unconcerned with the man's forward manners, but I could tell at a glance that she was studying him with the scrutiny that can only belong to an Elder.

 

“Please do sit and make yourselves comfy,” this man named Picolet urged as he pulled out a chair and offered it to Kasumi, who politely took him up on the invitation, even as he sought to do the same thing for Kodachi, who made a point of snatching the chair out from his hands and seating herself with a rather prim smile that would have done justice to a hooded cobra.

 

“Now then,” the man said once we were all made more comfy, producing a bottle of champagne and popping the cork before pouring into our glasses and then raising his own with a cheerful, “A toast…to my future wife! May she prosper well and bring distinction to the noble house of Chardin.”

 

I think that this would have been a good place for a group facevault, but it seemed a shame to spill the wine, so instead we contented ourselves by looking blankly at this stranger. Or rather everyone else was silent save for Ranma, who spoke the word aloud, “Wife?!?”

 

“Yes, isn't it glorious?” Picolet said as he gave each of us females in attendance a cheerful study, “One of you lovely things are fated to be my bride, and imagine my great joy upon hearing the noble name of Tendo spoken once again when the Marquis brought it to my attention…”

 

“Hold on a second there!” Nabiki spoke up as she put her half-sipped glass back down on the table, “What do you mean…the noble name of Tendo?”

 

“Why, your names, of course,” Picolet replied, “Are you not the daughters of one Tendo Soun come to pay your respects to our fine house in honor of a promise made long before our births?”

 

“Oh my,” Kasumi blinked, then reflexively said, “Tendo Soun is indeed our father…”

 

“But not my father,” Kodachi growled, “And by what means do you speak about an honorable promise?”

 

“Oh dear,” Picolet lowered his glass, “Are you not named Kasumi, Nabiki and Akane of house Tendo? I thought for sure, having made a few polite inquiries of the establishment where you are staying…”

 

“Excuse please,” I thought it a good point to bring my own opinion to bear upon this matter, “This one is named Xian-Pu of the Joketsuzoku, but she is pledged as the honorable wife to my airen, Saotome Ranma,” I added as I proudly held up the engagement ring that Ranma had given me only a few nights ago back in China.

 

“Yeah,” Nabiki took the hint and held up her own left hand to expose the wedding ring there, “And my name may be Tendo Nabiki, but I'm pledged to marry my iinazuke, Saotome Ranma…”

 

All at once the youth pulled out some curious type of lens and began to critically examine the ring on Nabiki's hand, then frowned as he said, “A mere nine karats, and with a flaw in the stone, Hardly worthy of gracing the hand of so noble a lady…” he paused and the lens dropped from his eye as he straightened up and said, “Excuse me? Did you just say that you are BOTH engaged to marry a Saotome Ranma?”

 

“Yeah, that's me, wanna make something of it?” Ranma growled as he jumped to his feet and grit his teeth like a great cat bearing his fangs (I immediately thought of my friend Smiley and wondered how he was doing back in Pangea). “And get your paws off Nabiki or I'll remove it one finger at a time!”

 

“You dare to threaten me?” Picolet did not show the least trace of fear, rather he seemed more intrigued than impressed at the declaration of my husband, “Very well, I accept your challenge. But before we duel…might I inquire as to the marital status of the other Tendo sister in attendance? You say that your name is Kasumi…and such a lovely name it is, worthy of a princess…”

 

“Oh my…” Kasumi reacted with a proper show of modesty, even as Kodachi looked ready to leap for the throat of the handsome man complimenting her “territory.” Kasumi took a moment before she said aloud, “Um…well…it is true that I…ah…well, I don't have a husband, nor do I have an engagement ring like Nabiki's, but…I am…sort of in a relationship…”

 

“Then he is blessed among men whichever fellow causes such a maidenly blush to adorn the cheeks of so fair a creature,” Picolet replied, turning back to glare at Ranma, “And now…as to the nature of our challenge. You asked what the significance of the Chardin family's tradition means, and now you shall taste of it first hand. Do have a seat and we will get started.”

 

“What, do you want to arm wrestle me or something?” Ranma asked, his frown mirroring my own confusion.

 

“Nothing so boorish, I assure you,” Picolet replied as he sat down and rang a tiny bell, which immediately brought waiters with trays of food rushing to our table, “The La Belle France School of Martial Arts Feasting is the style of combat in which the two of us shall engage…”

 

“Huh?” Ranma blinked, “You mean…Food Fu?”

 

“I think he means an eating contest, Ranma-kun,” Kasumi replied as she got Kodachi to calm down enough to sit beside her at the table, “The one who eats the most wins…am I right?”

 

“Splendidly summarized, my delicate flower of the orient,” Picolet smiled, pulling out a knife and fork before making a show of clashing them together, “From hors d'oeuvres to dessert…whoever finishes first wins. Are you ready?”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Ranma grinned with the confidence of an easy victory at hand, and indeed, I had to privately agree that only his father could compete with my airen for sheer gluttony when it came to emptying a table (not that I mind the challenge of filling his bottomless pit with culinary dishes on the day we three celebrate our honeymoon together), “I was born ready for this.”

 

“Ah…one note of caution, young War Master,” Elder Lotion spoke up, and to our surprise she plucked up a dinner roll the size of a man's fist and tossed it towards Picolet…only to have it vanish in mid-air before any of us was the wiser.

 

“Aiyaa?” I reacted, even as there were numerous gasps from the others sitting in attendance as Picolet merely dabbed his chin with a napkin.

 

“Let this challenge be for food and nothing else, young Master Chardin,” the Elder urged, “As this is a first time encounter, it is only sporting that we consider it a demonstration match with no deeper consequences for the loser than to foot the bill for the encounter. Agreed?”

 

“As you wish it, Mademoiselle,” Chardin smiled, “The loser pays for the entire meal…but if you wish to challenge me for a second time, then I will name such terms as befits the greater honor.”

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Ranma sniffed, “We gonna do this or just flap our mouths?”

 

“Pierre?” Chardin called to one of the army of similarly dressed waiters standing in attendance.

 

“As you instruct, Master Chardin,” the oldest of these waiters said, holding up a bell and ringing it a single time, “You may begin.”

 

And then the unbelievable happened…Picolet's hands moved faster than the Amaguriken and all at once plates seemed to empty out as their contents vanished before our eyes like magic. Within seconds the man was on desert while Ranma had barely even gotten started, then all at once the head waiter rang his bell again to declare the match concluded. Picolet was dabbing his mouth and taking a sip of wine while Ranma sat there with his mouth stuffed full of half-eaten victuals while the rest of us sat stunned, unable to fully absorb the incredible display that we had just witnessed.

 

“He's…not even human,” Kodachi exclaimed, breaking the silence of almost a full minute.

 

“Oh my…he ate faster than Ranma-kun?” Kasumi marveled.

 

“Indeed,” Lotion remarked, “Not even Ranma's father could more efficiently clean a table.”

 

“But that's impossible!” Nabiki blurted out, “Nothing human could out-gorge the old Panda!”

 

“The secret, Mademoiselles, is absolute mouth control,” Picolet replied before demonstrating by gripping his mouth with both hands and pulling it so wide that he could have swallowed a melon whole, at which point I considered fainting. The blond man then closed his mouth to normal size and continued, “The Chardin family has mastered the tradition of eating with grace, perfected over many generations so that we never lose a match and always clean a table to the least little morsel.”

 

He then demonstrated another prodigious feat by projecting out his tongue three meters and lashing a bit of pastry from a nearby table, surprising the dinner guest there, who sat there wondering where it had gotten off to. Picolet closed his mouth and smiled at us once again then said, “We are the best in the world when it comes to culinary excellence, yet somehow we find it difficult to obtain proper mates…”

 

“Oh yes,” Kodachi said faintly, “And I wonder why that would be?”

 

All at once I became aware that Nabiki was not joining in on the conversation, and I turned to see that her eyes were wide with shock and her complexion was pallid. I started to wonder what was wrong with her when Elder Lotion beat me to the point by saying, “Careful, child…breathe in deeply. Take a moment and relax…you are among friends and in no immediate danger of consumption.”

 

I heard Nabiki shudder and at once understood the reason. Having seen the size of Picolet's mouth she no doubt was having a flashback to her ordeal in the cooking pot, and the thought of what such a man might do with such a mouth was certainly enough to give anyone nightmares.

 

“But…I don't understand,” Kasumi spoke up on our behalf, “Did you say that one of us has been promised to be your wife?”

 

“Ah yes,” Picolet held up a sheet of paper that looked to be some form of document and said, “This was signed by my father and your father some twenty years ago. You may examine it closely if you have any doubts upon the matter.”

 

“Let me see that!” Kodachi snatched the document from the man's hands and glared at the thing as though accusing it of all manner of crimes. That she went pale a moment later demonstrated to me that could attest to its authenticity, and she absently passed the thing along to Kasumi, who read it carefully before saying, “Oh my…that is father's handwriting…”

 

All at once Nabiki exploded with an angry, “WHAT THE HELL DID HE DO? Daddy??? I don't believe it! He promised one of us in exchange for payment on a meal he lost…in a WAGER???”

 

“HUH?” Ranma blurted, having finally managed to choke down the last bit of food that he had swallowed, “Wait a minute…don't you mean my Pop?”

 

“Oh, he was there all right!” Nabiki snarled, “I just saw it in my mind, as clear as if it had been video recorded! Daddy and Uncle Genma were on a training trip with Master Happosai, and typically enough they were starving to death when they came upon this restaurant franchise of La Belle France International Corporation…”

 

“Ah yes, my father has well acquainted me of the story,” Picolet smiled grandly, “'Tis a tale even older than I, who tell it. Your father learned that he could win a free meal by defeating my father in combat, and when he lost he had no money to pay for the food, so he promised my father anything…except money.”

 

“And Tendo Soun was thus compelled to promise one of his as-yet-unborn daughters as collateral,” Elder Lotion remarked, “To marry a son of the house of Chardin and thus to perpetuate your family's traditions.”

 

“That is indeed the agreement that was forged, Mademoiselle,” Picolet leaned back in his chair and gave us all a friendly nod, “Signed, sealed and documented before a Notary Public. By the honor of your family and mine one of you will become my bride…or perhaps the one who is missing, your youngest sister. Where is she, by the way? I had thought that she would answer the summons the same as you…”

 

“NOW JUST A DAMNED MINUTE HERE!” Ranma lurched to his feet once again, absolutely livid, “You think it's that easy, you swooping in here and nailing one of the Tendo girls? No way! Nabiki is my fiancée, and Kasumi and Akane ain't gonna be forced to marry a freak like you, no how, no way!”

 

“I concur,” Kodachi gave the young man a chilly stare that would have put icicles down another man's back, “And you know that such a document cannot be legally binding in a court of law. No one will compel my Kasumi into a marriage against her will. And as for Akane…if you wish to try your luck with her, then be my guest, but be warned that she does not suffer fools like you grandly.”

 

“Would you care to make another wager on that?” Picolet smiled once again, “I said that would offer you a rematch…do you think you can best me on a second try at my own game?”

 

“You just name the time and place, Mister!” Ranma snarled before either Nabiki or I could restrain him.

 

“Will one week hence suffice?” Picolet replied, “We can even hold it in your native Japan in front of your fathers, who will back me up in my claim or forfeit all right to family honor.”

 

“One week?” Nabiki and I gasped, even as my wife promptly clapped a hand over the mouth of our mutual husband.

 

To say that this was dire news for us would indeed make a gross understatement, but even as I contemplated what life would be like for Nabiki if she were forced to marry such a big-mouthed cad I had occasion to wonder myself what my apprentice would say when she learned of these developments…or, for that matter, for her intended, Kuonji, who—at that very moment—were themselves engaged in affairs of a highly risky (or risqué) nature…

 

 

Red Saladin (a.k.a. Mohammed Jaril Alafar) glanced at his timepiece as he and his men set to work putting their plans into operation. A single burst of gunfire was all it had taken to cow these foreign devils into submission, and once his men had everyone down on the floor cowering like dogs he ordered phase two to commence. The metal suitcase with its deadly cargo was placed down on the floor and then opened so that his expert in demolitions could set the timer and send phase three into full motion.

 

“[Grovel on your faces, Infidel Dogs!]” he barked when he saw some of the tourists start to look up from their prone positions, “[The way to Paradise is before you, and soon you will face Allah's mercy and entreat him to forgive your heathen ways!]”

 

That always was good for getting his men properly revved up and motivated, even as he saw blank looks from Parisian and Foreign devil turned his way since very few of them knew how to speak Farsi. He paid them no further mind than this since it hardly mattered what any of them would think about the events of the next several minutes. They were all doomed to die and it hardly was of any concern to him since he would go to his fate with a clear conscience while they would die as infidels, a fate that doomed them as surely as if they had been born Jewish.

 

He glanced at his chronometer again then watched as Mossud fumbled with the bomb controls, then in a carefully patient voice he said, “[You might want to hurry it up a bit…we do have a tight schedule to meet here.]”

 

“[Apologies,]” Mossud replied, “[This seemed so much easier during practice…]”

 

“[No pressure,]” Saladin said as he cocked his pistol and pointed it in a meaningful gesture, “[Just get it right before anyone figures out what we are attempting to do here. It would be most unfortunate if someone cut the power to the elevator at this point.]”

 

“[Uh…right, Sir,]” Mossud swallowed, then paid extra attention to what he was doing as he armed the device and set the timer in roughly half the time that it had taken him in practice.

 

Saladin nodded grimly, glancing at his watch for a third time since they did not have long to work at it before their enemies converged upon the tower to spoil their final mission. The bomb was to be the final blow against the Imperialist powers of America and Europe, and timing was critical to achieve the right effect. After all, an explosion of this magnitude, coming as it did while secret peace negotiations were being conducted on the other end of the city, would likely set in motion a chain of other such events that would bring the West to its collective knees and deal a death blow to the Jewish Hegemony of the planet.

 

It was such a perfect plan…kill the traitors selling out the Palestinian cause, along with the Jewish collaborators offering a shameful deal of `Peace for Land,' and meanwhile the American President was on a trip towards Brussels and would be passing over French airspace in another few moments. The Vice President was an even bigger fool than him, but with a European city vaporized and no one the wiser about who did it…why, where else to turn for blame but to the Russians themselves since they provided the bomb that he was using (albeit not wittingly since the device had been stolen). The clues that Saladin left pointing to Moscow would insure that the two Superpowers (well…Superpower and one half) would start pointing the fingers, and possibly using them to trigger yet more such explosions.

 

Indeed, the West would fall and by its own corrupt hands, and with the destruction of both America and Russia a new power would rise up in the world, one dedicated to holy Islam and the Sharia of almighty Allah. Then, once their supporters in America was no more, their foreign colony of Israel would fall as Muslims the world over rose up to overthrown their tyrannical oppressors. Then surely the Kingdom of Allah would be born once again, and Saladin's name would be remembered as the Martyr to end all Martyrdom. His only regret was in not living to see such a glorious future.

 

Unfortunately his doctor's report had made certain that this would never happen. Inoperable cancer, the result of playing around with far too many dangerous compounds over the course of a lifetime of bomb making and distribution. Sad to say that he would have no sons to carry on the tradition; he wanted to be the “New Saladin” who crushed the infidel crusaders…instead he had been given six months to live, so going out with a bang seemed preferable to a lingering death by chemotherapy.

 

His men felt much the same way, so they had nothing to lose and everything to gain by doing Allah's will, and all it required of them was to doublecross the Dutchman. Not exactly something to lose sleep about, but if any of them lived…well, the Dutchman would see that they were not too comfortable about that.

 

All these thoughts flowed through Saladin's mind as he contemplated the greatest act of terrorism in a lifetime of such violence, yet still he remained alert enough to hear when his underling reported, “[Sir, someone's coming up on the elevator! I think it's another party of tourists.]”

 

“[We don't need any more witnesses,]” Saladin said dismissively, “[Eliminate them.]”

 

Weapons not already cocked were cocked and readied as the guns turned towards the elevator doors as they began to swing open with an oblivious Miss Hinako explaining, “…The place where we'll be going is called Le Jules Verne Restaurant, so named for the famous French author…”

 

What happened next was something which Saladin—had he survived the encounter—would never have believed possible. One moment his men had their weapons trained upon a group of Japanese teenagers, ready to cut them down where they stood, and with their intended victims hardly the wiser or on guard against such a treacherous ambush, yet the terrorists had made three great errors that now came to haunt them with a vengeance, not the least of which was taking their eyes off of the tourists whom they already had thought were cowed into submission.

 

One of these tourists, a statuesque blonde, saw an opening and took it, and with a sudden flash of movement she kicked out at the back of one leg of a nearby terrorist and caused the man to yelp in pain, falling backward and spraying the ceiling with his AK-47. The other terrorists turned reflexively his way to see what was the matter and thus committed the second biggest mistake of the day.

 

They took their eyes off of those selfsame Japanese teenagers, and several of these proved quick witted enough to react within the space of a single instant.

 

“SENSEI—MOVE!!!” Ukyo cried as she grabbed Akane and Miss Hinako and pushed them to the floor even as she tumbled into forward motion, coming up with a hand full of throwing spatulas, which she threw from a nearly prone position at the unsuspecting gunmen.

 

Ryoga—no slouch when it came to reacting to the sound of gunfire—was in motion at once, pulling free a number of bandanas and whipping them out with the speed of a charging rhino.

 

Usagi, Rei, and Ami leaped high towards the ceiling, pulling out their Henshin pens (or magic amulets) in passing and readying to transform into their Senshi incarnations.

 

Saladin just barely became aware of this triple threat when all at once a little old man started glowing with eyes that seemed to radiate hellfire, and with a snarl that made his meaning plain across any language barrier Happosai cried, “YOU DARE TO THREATEN MY CUTIES…?!?!?!?”

 

All of a sudden his “perfect plan” was beginning to seem a little less than perfect, but even a notorious international terrorist might be forgiven underestimating the fury of a pervert scorned, even as his men began to fall all around him and his plans began to crumble in the face of female fury unleashed…

 

 

Peorth gasped at the feeling of an ice-cube sliding down her chest, the involuntary reaction sending a shudder throughout her nervous system as it was slowly played between her breasts, sliding down past the gulf between perfect globes to caress the sensitive epidermis of her belly.

 

“Oh, you like that, do you?” Mon-Mon grinned, “Well, Cheri, that is only to be expected, and if you enjoy it here then you are going to love it…down here.”

 

Peorth gave a little half-scream and arched her back as Mon-Mon placed the ice cube over her sensitive labia, then slowly worked it back and forth until she was able to push it in past the unfolding lips of her sex, at which point Peorth gave a ragged scream in interest and thrashed upon the bed, fighting against her restraints as she felt her body cresting the tide of a mini-orgasm.

 

“My, you are a sensitive thing,” Mon-Mon said appreciatively as she pushed the ice cube in even deeper, “Well, take your time, we have all day to explore the limits of your pleasure threshold. I do believe that we will get to be very good friends by the end of the day, and this is so much nicer than the unpleasantness that you were contemplating before, non?”

 

Peorth gasped as she struggled to dislodge that intrusive ice cube, all the while putting on quite a fetching display of her limber, supple body. The concubine priestess appreciatively leered as she studied her own handiwork while holding the goddess at bay, finding so many interesting areas to explore that would systematically drive the Goddess of Moments to distraction. Groan as she might, complain though she frequently would do, Peorth was definitely getting off on this, and all she needed was for Mon-Mon to help her along the way to another more intensive orgasm.

 

All the better to keep Peorth tied up and unable to interfere in the affairs of her daughters, Akane and Nabiki.

 

Peorth for her part was finding this whole `9