Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ The Weapon ❯ Pieces ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chinangel's rant: Well it seems that some of you believe that I hate the Nerima Wrecking Crew as a whole. Well, I don't. Rei Mitsuhito's observations were all based on what she had seen Ranma and the rest of them do. She was comparing everyone to Ranma, who is difficult to measure up to. Since only Ryouga approaches Ranma in skill, then she believes only he is suitable. Please note, she also did say that they were all exceptional.

Also, somebody pointed out that the fight with Herb didn't take place in China. Look, you're probably right, but for the sake of argument, let's say it did. Shrieken and I are the ones with the pens damnitt! This is our fanfic. (Huff, huff) Okay, now that I've had my temper tantrum, I only have one last thing to say: If you leave an anonymous review, I'd also appreciate it if you'd email me or Shrieken. I like to be able to respond to my reviewers, and if I can't get in contact with you....

Anyhow, that's my rant. Now here's Shrieken! *Glomp's Shrieken*

Mosh Shrieken's Rant: Thanks Neko-chan. I just want to take this opportunity to thank all our reviewers on FanFiction.Net, and all the imaginary ones on MediaMiner.Org. Seriously, we’re really pleased with all your praises. On FF.net. Unfortunately, our media miner readers don’t seem to think we need any reviews. Hehehehehehe. Well, I’m not threatening you, per say, but if you don’t review, I’m afraid my rabid ninja wombats here will attack. =^_^= Anyway, here’s the fic:

This story is dedicated to the letter Î and the number 9.03.

Suggested Listening Music: What Have you Done Now? Within Temptation



He had screwed up, badly, real badly.

Trudge, trudge, trudge.

He had been taken to help, and he had become a burden, and still she didn't care. He, HE! Still HE didn't care.

Trudge, trudge, trudge.

Now....now what? How was he going to explain everything? How was he going to tell her that he had screwed it up, screwed it all up?

Trudge, trudge, trudge.

How was he going to tell Akane that he had let Herb destroy the kettle? In doing so, had allowed Herb to essentially kill Ranma.

And it was his entire fault.

Ryouga's eyes stared at his chest and the weight of duty laid heavy upon his shoulders as he wandered the world, for once not wanting or even trying to find the Tendo dojo.


The underground lab wasn't lit. She liked the darkness, reveled in it. Not for the symbolic purpose, but rather do to the fact that the harsh fluorescent lights burned her eyes, and eventually lead to headaches.

She took a long drag on a cigarette, wishing that she could taste it, but alas the act of smoking was merely a habit from a former life. One that, at times like this, she missed deeply.

She sighed and violently put out the cigarette in a makeshift ashtray, and began to dig through her desk which, like the lab, was a chaotic mess. She burrowed past week old reports, paper clips, pencils, chewing gum wrappers, week old cartons and post-it notes until she struck pay dirt, and produced a worn tape recorder and mini cassette.

"All the technology in the world and we're still using fucking tape recorders,” she dryly complained and, with a sigh, slipped in a new cassette and began recording.

"Post-Surgical report: Doctor Miyuki Karasu,” she paused, wondering. What was she supposed to say? "Thanks a lot for meddling in my project!" No? Well then why not: "Well, we've officially screwed up her life, way to go!" Or maybe, "She's going to look drop dead gorgeous at prom! With her date on one arm, and a Gatling gun on the other!" She pressed 'Stop' on the recorder and half threw, half dropped it on her desk. Karasu sighed and held her temples while glaring at the tape recorder.

"I need a cigarette."


Ranma mumbled softly into the soft pillow about something that sounded like ‘Fish cakes and pickles.’ The surveillance people hidden in the next room all sweat-dropped at the words coming in over the bugs hidden in the standard looking hospital room.

Ranma realized something was wrong when she felt a soft, cushiony bed beneath her. Waaaiit a second…. I don’t have a bed. I normally sleep in a sleeping bag, or the futon at the Tendo Dojo. So why am I on a bed? It took her sleep-addled brain several minutes before thinking of looking around.

HOLY CRAP I’M BLIND!! Oh, wait a sec. Ranma opened her eyes and automatically looked down to see large, well-formed breasts. Ranma silently cursed in her head, and the watchers could probably guess at what she was thinking. If looks could burn, her chest would be a crisp right now.

She remembered, finally, what she was awake for, and took her surroundings in. White walls, a couple machines next to her bed, and a paper gown on her. Correction, a PINK paper gown on her, with a low-cut (it seemed) collar too. Damn hospitals. Now how did I get here…?

As she was trying to remember what had happened to her to to deserve a stay in hospital (probably a fight. Life is like that), her gaze drifted to her hand. And she stared. Her hand (?) looked somewhat… odd. Something was wrong. She instinctively tried to sense the ki in that area, and was stunned to find nothing. No ki... in most of her arm. Thoroughly freaked, she took another look at her body, using her ki-senses.

What she found scared the crap out of her. Even though it looked like she wasn’t injured beyond small cuts...small precise cuts. Her stomach churned and she desperately tried to read deeper and yet the answer was still the same: Most of her insides and all of her limbs were missing any kind of ki. They were like voids in her body, and that scared her. It scared her a lot.

She lifted her hand, and immediately noticed some differences. To a normal person, they would feel almost exactly like normal arms, except that they couldn’t get any input from them. However, to a trained fighter of Ranma’s caliber, it’s (was) instantly noticeable that the reaction time was severely lagging, and that the strength of the arms was heavily reduced, compared to his (or is (was) it her?) normal standards.

She sat up, and tried to get untangled from the wires and tubes connected to her. One of the first things she ripped out was the heart monitor, and the loud alarm alerted the nearby doctors. Said doctors rushed in and tried to calm Ranma down enough to put a sedative into her system .

One female doctor managed to get a needle into her IV line, and blackness descended on her…

Kasumi sighed unhappily. It was becoming a habit of hers. So far she hadn't heard any news of the wayward Martial Artists. This could be good...or bad. It was hard to say for certain. But her instincts told her to give up hope. She ignored them.

"Good Morning Kasumi!" Akane said chipper as she hopped down the stairs, happiness written across her face.

"Good Morning Akane." she responded somewhat stiffly, but a smile graced her face nonetheless.
"I slept wonderfully! How about you?" she was fairly dancing around the room, while Kasumi continued to drop ingredients into the miso, and didn't answer. This however went completely unnoticed by the chipper middle Tendo sister.
"It's so good to have a normal day,” she declared and grinned at Kasumi.

"Is there anything you need me to do?" Kasumi asked and gave as a serene a smile as she could force, while her sister flitted about the kitchen.
"Oh no, but is there anything you need me to do?" Kasumi's alarms went off as Akane grabbed a spare apron that hung on a hook at the back of the kitchen, and returned, tying the straps around her hips.
"It's okay Akane-chan,” Kasumi responded with a smile that wasn’t quite as bright as her normal ones, "I have it all in hand."
"No, I insist!" Akane responded with a grin and seized control of the miso preparation and began to add ingredients while the elder Tendo sister looked on in worry.

He loved anime. He liked the images and appearances the artists used, and as a result, often adopted them for his own use. He was especially fond of Evangelion, and the character 'Gendo Ikari'. He had taken the character to heart, memorizing the slightest gestures, movements and nuances portrayed by Gendo, and applied them to real life. For it was certainly one thing to be disturbed by a cartoon character.

It was quite another to see that character represented in real life.

His name was Akuyo Masashiro, and he prided himself on his company's advancement in the fields of medicine and electronics. But now they were wading into virgin territory for his little secret company: weapons.

Viruses and bacteria can be cured; radio interference and satellite scouting can be countered. But a bullet to the head can't be reversed.

But he wanted more than guns, he wanted more than a new missile or a brand new world-devastating bomb. He wanted a gun that had never been seen before, a gun that could shoot, move, think and do the God Damn dishes if so asked.

On his desk, a manila folder lay open. Medical reports and technical jargon were by and large, ignored. Photos of the girl lay scattered across the mahogany desk, face down of course. He didn’t have the stomach to see a young girl ripped open in such a grotesque manner. Still, the ends justified the means.

He stared out his window, down at the people wandering about on the streets below. Akuyo contemplated nothing as he flipped a mini cassette around his fingertips. He hadn't listened to it yet, as he was still working up the power to be able to sit through the Doctor's annoyingly judgmental tone. The woman was insufferable! She had already demanded many allowances for a project that had yet to yield any results! Then, as the project had finally begun to show progress, she complained about morality.

Like she was in any position to complain. Ultimately HE signed her checks, and it would take one phone-call to get the project scrapped. He...
Akuyo sighed grumpily and swiveled around on his chair. He pulled open a bottom left-hand drawer and retrieved a small tape recorder and, inserted the mini cassette, and pressed 'play'. There was a moment of silence and then it clicked to the end and he cursed softly.

Yet another way the woman taunted him: she refused to rewind the tapes. It was small and childish but it was one of many shows of contempt. He was beginning to doubt his own judgment in hiring her. He viciously stabbed the 'rewind' button and sent the tape back to the beginning before pressing play.

"Post surgical report: Doctor Miyuki Karasu."

He could tell that she was upset; she always smoked when she was upset. Edward Delahue leaned against the desk of his superior and waited for her to butt out the cancer stick. It was the closest thing to drinking for Karasu, and judging by the number of cigarette butts in the ashtray, she was plenty upset.

"What is it Miyuki?" he asked softly, not as a co-worker but as a friend, and the only competent member of her staff. Karasu looked blearily at him and then held up a manila folder. It had a large figure eight scribbled across the front.

"I did some digging into candidate eight‘s past,” she explained, then dropped the folder in front of him. Edward reached over, picked it up, and opened it.

"Interesting?" he asked and skimmed through the handwritten and typed articles. He also studied the pictures that were included. Some of the snapshots showed fantastic battle scenes or gymnastics that one only finds in comic books.

"Yes," Karasu bitterly responded and picked up another cigarette and stuffed it in her mouth, "Like a horror movie,” she flicked her lighter and lit the tip, taking a long drag from it.

"Saotome Ranma,” she breathed out, sending a column of smoke into the air, "Age sixteen, engaged to several young girls. A talented Martial Artist and a poor academic student." Edward looked over the report cards that were included. The marks agreed with her, except for Phys-Ed which had high 80's.

"And get this: cursed to turn into a girl." Edward stopped and looked over his shoulder at the golden-eyed Karasu.
"Bullshit,” he responded, knowing full-well that it wasn't. Karasu never joked.
"Afraid not,” She grumbled, "An honest-to-God, curse. He was born a boy. He somehow turns...turned into a girl with cold water." The change of tense wasn't lost on Edward.
"You say that in past tense,” he noted.
"Yes, we screwed around with his...with HER body." She took another drag on the cigarette, "We replaced her arms, legs, and most of her organs." Edward waved that off.
"Yes, yes I know but..." then his mind began to work, "You don't think...." his eyes were wide and he stared at Karasu, who simply shrugged.
"I don't know," she responded angrily, and tapped ashes off her cigarette and into the ashtray, "We will have to check to be certain, but I'm fairly sure."

Edward looked back at the folder, his gut churning with guilt. Sixteen years old, and born a man. Now, they had turned him into....He turned around and dropped the folder next to the ashtray and held his large head between his hands.

"I need a cigarette,” he whispered softly. She nodded in sympathy and tossed him the carton.

He tugged out the stick and flicked her lighter.

Together they smoked in silence, coming to grips with what they had done.

Chinangel's rant: Ugh, I'm sorry that this is so much shorter, the whole thing felt forced for me. I've been wrestling with a major bout of writer's block and this didn't come out the way I wanted it to. I'm sorry. I hope that the next chapter will be better. Anyhow, next chapter we should start on re-training Ranma, more surgery and upgrades!

Oh, in all my fanfics, I like to give each chapter a musical theme. Hence 'suggested listening music'. What do you people think of that? Bad Idea? Good Idea? Indifferent? Does anyone actually listen to the music? Please let me know!

Also, be certain to thank Dumbledork for his hard work okay? He's very talented and without him this whole project would quickly fall to shambles.

Now, here's Shrieken! (Huggles Shrieken)

MShrieken's Rant: *ish huggled* Thanks koi.

Well, not much to say. Other than REVIEW NOW! Authors thrive on reviews, they help make our writing less sucky. Anyway, this chapter goes to mostly Chinangel, as I actually wrote very little in this. So! ALL HONOR TO THE ANGEL!