Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance is a Dish ❯ One ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I make no claims at ownership of any copyrighted characters, places or events used herein. The only thing I make a claim to is this fic, which originated in my head and any original characters created by me herein. The following was made for public consumption at zero profit, and is not for sale except to the owning companies. Yes, I dream big.

 

Rant: This idea came about after reading the recent outbreak of darkfics. It wouldn't leave my head and after thinking on it for a while here it is, my entry into the domain of darkness. And for once, NOT a crossover!

 

Vengeance is a Dish

 

By: Jim Ohki

 

THREE YEARS AFTER THE `WEDDING'; TENDO PROPERTY

 

“That's it, I'm gone,” declared Ranma to the gathered people. He had, without telling anyone, set a time frame for somebody to make amends and at least try. The failed wedding had really opened his eyes to just what most people really thought of him. He had extended the `probation' to be almost all inclusive, with only a select few exceptions. Those exceptions being Kasumi and the missing Doctor Tofu.

 

Bedlam had erupted at his declaration, everybody shouting at once. The only silent party was the abovementioned Tendo, her own emotions in turmoil over the announcement.

 

“No,” stated Ranma, seemingly having decoded the entire maelstrom of voices and demands. He was already packed, what few things he really cherished in his worn and abused travel pack. “There is no changing my mind on this.”

 

The only thing that had changed in the years was graduation. He had waited so long to give the fiancées with a claim time, as well as the attached rival suitors. One of the reasons he had graduated from high school was that the administration simply wanted him gone. Beyond that one change, the rest of the dynamic was the same. Mallets, bon-bori and spatulas the same. Toxins, potions and poisons the same if not in different delivery methods and/or types. Attacks on his person the same, regardless of the form or if it was physical or financial.

 

“There are only two people in this house right now that have ever asked what I want!” he roared, instantly striking fear into the hearts and minds of those that had wronged him over the years. “Kasumi and, one time and one time only, Cologne have ever asked where I see myself in the future. This is most certainly so far from where I expected to see myself now that I want to puke! I'm sick of the lies, the betrayals, and the cornering by use of my honor against me! As of now, I'm out. I'm leaving, I'm not a Saotome, I'm not engaged, and I'm not playing fucking nice anymore!”

 

“RANMA NO BAKA!” screamed out Akane, her mallet making an impressive WHOOSH as it sailed through the air. During the power stroke of the swing, the mallet was intercepted by a closed fist, shattering the head. Before the others could blink, Akane was imbedded in a wall and out like a light, blood oozing from her mouth.

 

“GET OUT!” bellowed the Demon Head, before it froze from the sheer cold temperature that suddenly encased the room. Within moments Soun joined his youngest as a wall ornament, in the same condition.

 

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” demanded Nabiki, placing her right hand on his left shoulder in an ill-advised attempt to gain his full attention. She found herself flying through the air on a direct course for the floor, landing on it heavily and having the wind knocked out of her.

 

“Don't touch me,” he deadpanned before turning to walk out. Genma was cowed by the violence, a deeply buried memory surfacing from his own childhood. Happosai was out of town doing whatever he wanted and was missing this spectacular meltdown.

 

“AIREN!” cried out Shampoo, launching herself into Amazon Glomp number thirty-four: `No more rivals, take me now!'. She quickly found herself in a similar situation to Akane by being imbedded in a wall, the difference being that both of her arms were broken in several places. She blinked owlishly before crying out in pain, unable to cradle the dual injuries due to their nature.

 

“Ranma, you are treading dangerously,” warned Cologne as she moved to help her great-granddaughter and heir apparent.

 

“To quote an American; fuck you,” returned the pigtailed warrior, a secreted sword of Shampoo's at the ready out of the old ghoul's line of sight. He was ready for the attack, and when it came he was quick to turn the tables on the Matriarch.

 

Blood sprayed from her left arm, the hand that was holding her staff now missing after a metallic SWOOSH sounded throughout the property.

 

“Come near me again, and I'll finish it,” he flatly stated before the ghoul started her own round of screaming. “That applies to your entire society. I ever see or even sniff an Amazon I'll personally burn your village to the ground.”

 

“Ranma-honey?” tried Ukyo, she having some form of restraint and staying rooted in place on the far side of the room.

 

“Here's another quote; go fuck yourself,” he returned to her inquiry, the sword already having vanished into the stolen technique of Hidden Weapons. He really didn't want to be forced to do anything to her, so her position was where he hoped she would stay. “I meant it, I'm done. Go live your life, forget about me and this bullshit caused by Genma.”

 

He turned to leave again, ignoring the sounds of sirens in the distance. He knew that Kasumi had called for the paramedics, most likely under the guise of a massive training accident. Which would actually work considering the entire encounter had happened in the dojo. Turning his head to the left, he looked at the only conscious Tendo, “Thank you for being the crutch I needed. Look after them as I'm sure they'll all want revenge of some sort. I'm sorry about the way this happened. Take care of yourself.”

 

“Good bye, and good luck!” shouted Kasumi to the departing back of Ranma, no longer of the clan Saotome. Nodoka had been there too, but had refused to give any reaction to the entire event. She appeared to be completely stunned that her own arrogance had cost her, her son again.

 

SIX YEARS LATER; DENVER, COLORADO, UNITED STATES

 

Ranma had applied for citizenship to the United States on the day of the Fallout, as he later learned the event had been labeled. The six months he had to wait for the American Immigration and Nationalization Service to grant his request was spent in the underground, building a fortune in pit fights. The hardest part was giving a new family name, one that had no ties whatsoever to his past.

 

His green card was sent with the name Ranma Rurouni on it. He knew that it was not the best choice in a name, but as the Japanese way was to give the clan name first it came out to the opposite of the printed card.

 

Not that it mattered. The occasional hired goon from Nabiki would try to sniff him out, only to get `talked' to and `persuaded' not tell the paying customer where he was. The only real regret he had was that the rivals hadn't been available on that day so long ago.

 

After having spent time in Los Angeles, New York, Atlanta and Las Vegas, he had chosen the Centennial State as his home as it was more low key. Being further away from cities near a coastline (or in the case of Vegas, being a place for high rollers) was a disappointment as he couldn't enjoy the salty smell of the ocean . . . on a good day when the pollution was at low levels.

 

Still, one thing that had gotten his attention was the altitude. Having done almost all of his training at or within two thousand feet of sea level had not prepared him for life at one mile above. He had redoubled his efforts in endurance training when the first few weeks of kata had left him so winded he couldn't move afterwards.

 

Honest employment was easy, getting there was trickier. Twenty miles to the west lay a quarry, perfect for strength training as well as a pay check. The problem with getting there was that the quarry was in the mountains, far away from public transportation. His usual method of self-transport wouldn't do much good out in the wilderness, so he had to learn the Art of Driving.

 

One constant from the days in Nerima was the condition that the Americans simply turned a blind eye to. He even had the INS create an identity for his female persona, just in case some rook out of the Academy decided that `she' was an easy target as an illegal immigrant.

 

Life in Denver was easy for Ranma. He still shied away from relationships with the opposite sex beyond simple friendship. He had enough money left over from his days in the underground to buy a modest house, a single floor brick ranch style with a full basement, two car garage and a good size yard around the property. His place sat twenty-five miles to the north of Denver, in a not-yet-included in the Metroplex town. Still, on his days off from work he'd head south into the city to partake in the weekend life.

 

So here he was, on the sixth anniversary of the Fallout. He'd just enjoyed a bite of food at the Cheesecake Factory on the 16th Street Mall. Now wandering around without the grumbling of his stomach, he just enjoyed the fact that he could walk the Mall, take in the sights and sounds, and not be pressured into doing something he was far from ready for. Passing a Twenty-Four Hour Fitness, he looked up at the televisions to see what was on at the onset of night.

 

Ranma froze, seeing that the TV was on CNN. In the background was the shell of Furinkan High, still smoldering from the recent arson. Hurrying inside to hear the audio, the door `guard' had no chance at stopping him. Along the bottom of the screen read: BREAKING NEWS, RIOT IN NERIMA, TOKYO, JAPAN; then it scrolled over to other information such as the probable cause, what the response from the government would be and the like.

 

Reaching up and pushing the volume up button, he caught the desk reporter saying that a subtitled tape had just been released to the public from the suspected head instigator of the riot. Seeing the image of Tatewaki Kuno was not on the top of the list, and something deep inside of Ranma let out a groan.

 

“Vile demon, thine self know ye is out yonder, hiding like the cowardly cur ye is,” rattled off the blast from the past, now somehow mixing poetry and pirate speak. All of a sudden his linguistic skills became perfect, “Give me the pig-tailed girl Ranma. She is all that is missing from my collection.” Here the camera swung to the left, revealing the Tendo sisters, Shampoo and Ukyo suspended on the wall by chains. While CNN had done their required by the robot-operated FCC (read as: the FCC is run by a emotionless robot) by having placed a mosaic over their bodies, their nudity and the trail of blood leading down either leg was obvious. Then the view swung around to the right to reveal several heads on individual pikes. Soun, Genma, Cologne, Happosai, and even Kodachi were missing the rest of their bodies. Ranma noticed that his mother, ex or not, was in a guillotine and screaming for help.

 

HIS help.

 

She was opening bawling as the WHOOSH-CLANK sound was broadcast to all that were watching, followed by the auburn head rolling about on the covered in plastic painters tarp floor.

 

When the camera swung back to Kuno, he had been joined by the Rivals. Only it appeared they had mutated into thugs, each holding an older model of the AR15, circa 1970. Tatewaki himself was holding a very out of date Chinese built silenced Type 64 submachine gun.

 

“Nerima is mine, they are mine. Give me the girl and I might just let them live,” said the one-time kendoist, his right arm swinging the weapon about like a pointer.

 

From there the feed returned to the news desk, the appalled reactions springing forth. Ranma could hear the whispers of those in the athletic club, their workouts forgotten. The members didn't se the angry young man turn sharply on his heel and storm out of the building . . .

 

Having returned home, Ranma began a search for `black market' weapons to purchase on the Internet. He knew the laws well enough and knew that if had gotten caught that there would be serious jail time involved, if not even deportation and revocation of his card. He didn't want to be anywhere near an Enemy of the State, like some yahoos whose names he couldn't remember in the Middle East.

 

His search was tedious. Having little more than a rudimentary skill with the Net and things like tracking cookies, he had to tread very carefully to avoid too much unnecessary attention. He did find various, and in his opinion disgusting, weapons that would suit his needs.

 

Having placed his order, and having made a giant dent in his accounts to do so, he looked up several satellite images of the Eastern Plains of Colorado, where the nearest person would be a minimum of five miles away. This would enable him to set up a firing range, especially for the government-banned military grade assault rifles.

 

He had his order shipped on UPS overnight, and so he expected the firearms to arrive the next day. Ranma was not pleased with the course of action he was forced to take, but even he knew that the weapons the Enemy (no longer Rival) was using would be just the thing to overwhelm his speed.

 

Even though the time was quickly approaching midnight, he felt restless and went into the basement for training. The space didn't allow for aerial kata, so instead he focused on strength and stamina. The speed training would happen in the afternoon, hopefully after his package arrived.

 

While he trained, the anger continued to build . . .

 

NERIMA, TOKYO, JAPAN; SIX MONTHS LATER

 

The JSSDF had asked for help from the United Nations after the Yakuza Kuno had spread its' madness throughout the city. There was no doubt that Kuno had been bored waiting for an answer to his ultimatum and had taken the Prefects just to prove he could. The violence had been staggering, his original alliance with a Yakuza family, along with the family, evaporating during the rampage. The government was getting desperate, what small Army they had was fully engaged just in containment.

 

Even seizing the funds of the Kuno family had no effect as the membership into the Crime Lord's `gang' had continued to climb.

 

Nobody was fooled, however. No matter how much Kuno sprouted `honor', `duty' and the like, the people knew that the members were nothing more that heavily armed thugs, out to rape and pillage all of Japan.

 

The access point from Tokyo Harbor into Nerima had been abandoned by both sides for two weeks, as the import/export business collapsed after the ship Captains refused to enter the Harbor. So nobody was around to watch a ship offload two portable containers and one passenger.

 

Ranma looked around and wanted to cry. The beautiful landscape he remembered was long gone. The warehouses along the pier he had returned home to were burned to the ground, what little bits of walls that were left were riddled with bullet holes. Shaking his head to clear away the nostalgia, he walked to the second container that was offloaded from the now departed ship.

 

Upon opening the doors, it was revealed to have been holding a heavily modified 2007 Ford F350, painted matte black with a topper on the bed. Beyond the dark paint job was the four inches of a Kevlar/Nomex blend acting as armor and fire retardant. The tires were `run flat' military grade, even with the armor blend that was bolted to the rim. Behind the truck was a M-777 Howitzer Heavy Artillery gun, hitched up and ready to go.

 

The other container held nothing but weapons and the ammunition they required. He had brought everything from the States, pistols to submachine to assault to full machine weaponry, enough for several platoons. He even had acquired a SMAW and a grenade launcher.

 

Yes, he had been caught with the seven degrees of illegal weapons. But when the US State Department, FBI and DOHS (Department of Homeland Security, wonder how long it'll take `em to figure it out) had learned of just who he was, being the reason for the current situation in Japan, they were more than willing to help (unofficially, of course for plausible deniability). The DOD got involved with half of the hardware he had, listing it as `on loan' for `official field testing'.

 

All he had to do was make the situation right (read: fix his mistakes), generate some paperwork for the field test weapons, and not get caught by the bad guy.

 

He loaded everything for the Howitzer into the truck, then after relocking the containers headed for the small mountain that was behind the high school. The streets were surprisingly empty of any members of the Kuno Yakuza. Apparently the residents had either fled or stayed indoors to avoid any contact with them. Not that it mattered as many of the residential units and houses were burned to the ground. The occasional tumbleweed or page of a newspaper would drift by in the breeze, completing the look of a ghost town.

 

On the drive to the high ground, people started to come out of their homes or in more than a few cases, their shelters. At first it was just one brave soul, then the watching neighbors joined their brethren by the drove, especially after word of who was driving the big black noise maker got around. A few though they had a vent for their anger until they got a really good look at what the trailer behind the diesel powered monstrosity was, then it clicked that Nerima was about to come to life again as a war zone.

 

He arrived at the south face of the mountain, three quarters of the way up in heavy vegetation. Quickly setting the M-777 up, barrel pointed at the Kuno Mansion and covered in a camo tent, he returned to the pier undisturbed and emptied the last container into the Ford. Having everything he needed, except for some strategically hidden fuel tanks, he returned to the artillery piece and set up a camp. This would do nicely as a command post for now as the vegetation and trees provided cover while the camo tent hid the weapon emplacement from above.

 

Taking out a scope for the Fifty Caliber that was a part of his arsenal, he used it like a telescope to scout out the territory below. There were many burned husks of buildings and cars that were creating foxholes and entrenchments that would shelter the enemy, and those would have to be destroyed before a direct path to the Mansion would be opened. Then there were the three dozen armed guards inside and around the walls of the compound on an erratic patrol. There was rarely a gap in the line of sights for those on the outside while those on the inside were poised to reinforce the outer perimeter if somebody should try a direct assault.

 

Settling in to wait for nightfall, knowing that it was the night of the new moon and thus would have complete darkness to work with, he began preparing a selection of weapons and explosives. A pair of suppressed Austrian built Glock 18's, each with two thirty-one round clips taped together to create a sixty-two round `flip clip' before having to discard the pair. Those were followed by another pair of Israeli UZI submachine guns with twin thirty-two round clips also in the `flip' design. After stashing those in the nifty weapons space (this brings a whole new meaning to it), he prepared an illegally modified for full automatic fire Ruger Mini-30 `Ranch' rifle again with taped thirty round clips. This was followed by an older AR-18 with twin clips and the illegal modification.

 

After having cleaned, checked and loaded the hand held weapons, Ranma moved over to the perimeter defense weapon that pointed down the only accessible trail to his overlook. Mounted on a tall 'stand behind' quad-pod was a Browning M2HQCB fifty caliber machine gun, a one hundred round belt already locked in with a small crate containing ten more ammunition belts and four replacement barrels sitting next to it. Once that weapon was verified ready to go and hidden under a smaller camo tarp, he moved about the dense vegetation to place Claymore Mines on the trees to seal off the rest of the camp.

 

Two hours after nightfall, he put on a `donated' set of true night vision goggles, jumped in the truck and headed down into the city proper with the lights out. Parking the beast on the outskirts to avoid unnecessary attention, he went to his top running speed to maneuver about the wreckage that had been his home. There was nobody on the streets now that it was dark, which worked just fine for him. He was saddened to find all of his haunts either torched (Ukyo's, the Nekohanten, the Tendo Dojo, Tofu's old clinic) or heavily graffiti'd in slander (the spot under the bridge, the Tendo property wall).

 

Shaking the feelings off for later he moved about, finding and placing a Claymore in the most used foxholes. Some were booby trapped with a grenade on a trip wire while others were reconfigured to give a reverse line of sight. Once the traps were in place he went back up onto the mountain to get some sleep and await daybreak.

 

Well, more like TRY to get some sleep as ever since those images aired now just over six months ago of those that he had cared for, that a part of him still cared for, he was haunted by his decision to leave Nerima at all. The `what ifs' had created so much self doubt within that he had nearly committed suicide just to forget. But then, `where was the honor in that?' would surface in his thoughts, and before long the depression turned to rage.

 

He couldn't understand why the US government was being so helpful though. In any circle it was theoretically impossible that they would supply him with what they had. The only hypothesis that surfaced was that they were afraid of this Kuno character turning into an international terrorist just because he could. The rhetoric that Tatewaki had been sprouting of late was very convincing to those that thought life was unfair to them.

 

Sleep came easier that night, thoughts of revenge fueling his desire to be rested enough to do it right.

 

Nerima awoke to a surprise the next morning. During his `power nap', the enemy had discovered some of the traps by setting them off. Apparently there was a rumor about a JSSDF offensive about to take place within the next day or two and Kuno had ordered some of his fodder out into the neighborhood as an early warning system.

 

Indeed they had been correct on the offensive as a surprised legion of Infantry engaged the Yakuza thugs shortly after the first explosion. The fighting was intense, even with the foxholes that were no more after some unlucky fool stepped into a Claymore and destroyed it.

 

Ranma grinned evilly, this would be the perfect chance to try out one of the toys at his disposal. After using a range finder, he set the Howitzer on the appropriate angle and waited for the opportunity to really surprise the bad guys.

 

In the city it was chaos, those in the neighborhood that were armed joining the Infantry in the attack. Bullets were flying everywhere, orders and pleas for medics were shouted, and the occasional grenade detonated sometimes sending parts of a body flying about.

 

There seemed to be a slight pause when from the mountain behind the remains of Furinkan came a loud THUMP sound, followed by the sound of a large high velocity object moving through the air before a building the Yakuza was using as a stronghold took a solid hit on the northeast corner, three floors up. All eyes turned to look in time to see a smoke plume accompanying the sound effects this time, just to hear a loud explosion and the sound of crumbling mortar.

 

The shelling continued, even as a squad of nine soldiers broke away from the ground engagement and made tracks for the unknown artillery position.

 

Up on the hill, Ranma was having a blast. Literally. His superior strength allowed him to handle the shells for the Howitzer with ease, getting the routine of loading, firing and dumping the spent casing down to a science. He knew that the noise, smoke and shear destruction the gun created was going to get their attention in a hurry, but the sacrifice wasn't going to be in vain. After destroying the building, he re-aimed the Howitzer at the Kuno Mansion and began to shell it. He had to restrain from laughing as the interior perimeter guards were killed by the sudden appearance of a crater and high explosive on the property.

 

Movement at the base of the trail caught his attention and he uncovered the machine gun in preparation to defend his little corner of the world. Even with the approaching uniforms being of JSSDF design he was not going to take any chances.

 

“Hold your fire!” shouted the squad commander, seeing that whomever was up here with heavy artillery, they were also ready to defend it. To show that they were friendlies, their weapons were either holstered or slung over a shoulder in a `not ready; at ease' position.

 

“Get on the gun and shell anything you deem a target but do NOT hit the Mansion itself,” barked Ranma as he stepped away from the defensive weapon emplacement. He began to walk over to the truck while the squad looked dumbfounded at what was in front of them.

 

Guns. Lots of guns.

 

On a portable conference table was an assortment of weaponry from pistols to submachine to assault and even some bolt-action sniper rifles. Some of the assault rifles had attached forty millimeter grenade launchers.

 

“Who are you?” asked one of the grunts as they began to look over the artillery piece.

 

“Me, I'm just collecting on some old debts,” was the reply as the black truck fired up. Seeing into the cab or shell was impossible due to two layers of tint and a layer of one way mirror coating. The window on the driver side rolled down half way, “Don't touch those weapons on the table. Those are for later.”

 

The thugs were surprised yet again when a black truck came charging into the city proper. They tried to see who was driving it, and a few even took potshots at it to gauge any reaction.

 

The reaction was simple. After sliding right, turning the truck perpendicular to the armed gang members and presenting them with the driver side, the window rolled down and what looked like an old Tommy gun was thrust in their direction. Only this weapon was brand new, and held a nasty surprise in the form of twelve gauge shotgun shells and that it fired on full automatic. When the AA-12 ran out of ammunition thirty rounds later, Ranma jumped out of the truck and charged the pillbox that the thugs were using for cover.

 

They didn't count on this surprise attack, even though they had been warned that he might return to Nerima. The sheer ferocity that he attacked them with was not part of the psychological file that Kuno had somehow gotten his hands on. Being in such tight quarters rendered the weapons useless, and these street punks were no match for somebody trained in an Art of War.

 

As this group had been the closest threat, when they were eliminated or had run away, he returned to the truck and produced the Shoulder Mounted Assault Weapon then stashed it in Weapons Space. This reusable rocket launcher had a few surprises for extra goodliness.

 

Rounding a corner, he encountered Mousse. The former Amazon was holding an American built Ruger P94, standing in a loose stance.

 

“About time you coward,” he ground out, not seeing any weapons on Ranma's person. He had an inkling of an idea that his adversary might have commandeered the Hidden Weapons technique, but had no time to speculate as Ranma was suddenly holding a licensed to the US Mauser M2.

 

“You do understand that there will one be one of us left at the end, right?” asked an emotionless Ranma. That question startled Mousse, both in the cold delivery and the not so hidden implication of death. “Every single one of you who touched them. You're going to die, one way or another.”

 

With that he leapt into action, running part way up a wall in an attempt to get a high ground situation over the myopic piece of trash in front of him. Mousse had duplicated the move off of another wall, then the two began to fire at each other. They met in mid air, spinning around twice before crashing to the ground, gun to the other's head.

 

“You're empty,” sneered the former Amazon.

 

“So are you,” Ranma deadpanned, before back-flipping away. He tossed the empty gun to the side, then stretched causing several joints to pop loudly. Not caring if the enemy was ready or not, he leapt into action again, this time intent on beating the life out of him.

 

For the first time in a long while Mousse felt fear. While he had fought Ranma before, the way that he was fighting now paled in comparison. In fact, the one and only time that he had ever seen the pigtailed one lay it on this think was with Saffron. Being on the defensive was no fun at all, and every time he tried to turn the tables to attack Ranma was ready with a counter.

 

Fists, feet, bricks, chains and the occasional training potty flew about in a great maelstrom. For every six hits that Ranma would land, Mousse would only get in two. The hand to hand went on like this for fifteen minutes before Ranma managed to get behind Mousse.

 

“I win,” he flatly stated, no emotion present whatsoever. Then he twisted hard to the right, a loud popping noise signaling the end of the myopic Amazon. While his voice held no emotion, his insides were in turmoil at having to take a life. Then the memory of the images would make itself known, and the remorse quickly went away. Taking a look around the scene revealed that they'd had an audience in the form of a dozen thugs. “Run. Tell Kuno I am coming.”

 

That they did, like the demons of Hell were right on their heels. Returning to the truck, he decided to return to the camp and see who he could pick off from that vantage point. That, and the fact that the Howitzer had fallen silent. That little tidbit was bothering him to no end, and as a precaution he wanted to make certain the position hadn't been overrun.

 

When he rumbled back into his command post, he was disappointed to see that the squad from earlier was gone. Apparently the retreating Yakuza from the other Prefects presented too much of a temptation to the Commanders, and they needed every combat capable man on the lines to keep the pressure on. Beyond that, the camp was as he had left it.

 

Out of two hundred shells, the Howitzer had ninety-eight left. The AA-12 was reloaded with a fresh thirty round drum, and this time he remembered to stash a few spares. Deciding that the attack on the mansion was going to happen the next day, he loaded a M-32 forty millimeter grenade launcher. What made this weapon so special was that it was a six round single action semi-automatic. The grenades themselves were longer than the ones used since the conception of a launcher for use in Vietnam. The fragmentation heads were of the High Explosive variety, meaning they could puncture steel reinforced walls. Of course, they weren't bunker busters by any stretch of the imagination, but to remove a door from four hundred yards away there was no equal.

 

Nightfall was approaching, so he headed down the trail to place more Claymores on trees at different intervals. He knew that he wasn't behind friendly lines yet, even though he could hear the sounds of heavy fighting not too far away. Once that task was complete, meaning that until he cleared them out he was boxed in, Ranma prepared the AS-50 sniper rifle for use just after daybreak.

 

When he had been handed the twenty-seven pound semi-automatic, and shown just how big a fifty caliber round was, he knew that this weapon would be the ultimate one available in his arsenal.

 

After affixing a scope, he slipped in the ten round clip then set the rifle aside. As happy as he was going to get with the situation the way it was, he crawled into his tent to get some shut eye.

 

Ranma awoke at five in the morning, just before dawn. The firefight from the night before had moved from north of his location to south, meaning his camp was now behind friendly lines. Heading down the trail, and thusly opening it as the mines were removed, he took stock of Nerima in the predawn light.

 

Several fires were burning, while the power had gone out sometime during the ruckus. The Yakuza had retreated all the way to the Mansion, where they had drawn a line in the sand as the phrase goes. After returning to the campsite, he hefted the fifty-cal and walked over to a rock outcropping.

 

Using the sight he zeroed in on the inner perimeter guards, looking for any targets of opportunity. Seeing none, he instead looked around for a target of choice. Movement at the front door caught his attention, and after refocusing he let out a growl.

 

For there was quite possibly one of the greatest thorns in his side, just below Happosai. Taro stood tall, lording over the remaining gang members like he was the one in charge.

 

There was a sudden surge of the JSSDF infantry near the perimeter wall, locking the full attention of everybody on the activity. With the weapons fire, Ranma now had the noise of the sniper rifle hidden. Taking careful aim, making sure Taro was going to stand still for a minute, he squeezed the trigger.

 

Down at the Mansion, those that were standing around Taro were surprised when his head suddenly exploded. By now the sun was peeking over the horizon, and one of the eagle eyes noticed the reflective glint on the mountain.

 

“SNIPER!” he had time to scream before his chest cavity met the same fate as Taro's head.

 

Ranma allowed himself a smirk. This rifle had a range of one and a half miles, when combined with an armor piercing tip the results were quite fascinating. He downed the one that looked right at him, although it saddened him to have done that to a one time friend.

 

“Damn it Daisuke, why did you follow that madness?” he groused to the vegetation around him before shaking his head to clear the emotions away. Looking through the scope revealed the chaos that was the Kuno front lawn. The small sea of humanity was in motion in random directions, which made no difference as he unloaded the remaining eight rounds into the crowd, hitting something every time.

 

Deciding that it was now or never, he hurried over to the truck, then drove as fast as he could to reach the Mansion before Kuno could end their lives.

 

The thugs had no chance as the black Ford literally charged through their ranks, either running over or sending bodies flying. Ranma leapt out, one UZI per hand and opened fire. He swept from side to side downing bad guys left and right. When the first magazines were empty, he took cover long enough to flip the clips then returned to laying down a sheet of lead. When the second clip was empty he tossed the pair aside for the Glock Eighteens. These military specials had a full automatic fire mode, which he utilized for maximum effect.

 

The Infantry had reached the front door when a familiar shout echoed across the battlefield.

 

“BAKUSAI TENKETSU!”

 

What was the front porch exploded into shrapnel, downing some of the charging Infantry.

 

“Hey Pig-boy, you missed me,” groused Ranma as he strode forward. He knew that any weapon was going to be useless against the Iron Skin technique. The reason he knew this was if Ryoga could take a full power punch, one of his `mountain busters', then a little piece of lead would be like a bee sting. “You and me, right now fuck-face.”

 

“It's about time you coward,” growled out Ryoga, the surrounding fighting forgotten to face his nemesis. “This is all your fault, PREPARE TO DIE!”

 

“Some of it is, yes,” Ranma admitted, moving in at top speed to be nose-to-nose with his one time friend. “Tell me before you die, was it worth it? Was she good for you? Or did you lose control of yourself?”

 

“Since you're the one about to die, I guess there's no harm in telling,” Ryoga countered while smirking. “She was damn good! They all were, especially after we finally broke them of the mere thought that you were going to save them like always.”

 

The smirk lasted for another two seconds before his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say, as Ranma's battle aura exploded outward from his body. The bright blue became a unique shade of purple, one that signaled one pissed yet confident person.

 

“You know, your curse matches your personality to the tee,” Ranma flatly stated. “You are a pig. However, I am the butcher. You will PAY for ruining them, Hibiki.”

 

With that, the brawl began. Like the fight with Mousse, Ranma wasn't holding back. The thugs and Infantry ran for their lives as the two powerhouses tried to rip the others head off. He was glad to have enhanced his training at a higher altitude as being closer to sea level meant he could go much longer before tiring.

 

Ranma launched into a multitude of combination attacks that were designed to find and exploit weaknesses in the opponents defense. He was disappointed to discover that Ryoga had let the role of a thug get to him and had slacked off in training.

 

He was much slower than before, and was already beginning to tire as the fight moved past the twenty minute mark. However, he just kept coming back for more as his endurance hadn't suffered in the slightest. Ryoga leapt away for a quick breather, then tried a new trick. With a flick of his wrist, one of the infinite number of bandannas on his head was whizzing through the air.

 

“BAH!” taunted Ranma, avoiding the razor sharp Iron Cloth. He had to seek shelter when the ki-infused piece of cloth impacted on the wall, causing it to explode just like the Breaking Point.

 

“Okay, that is certainly handy,” he admitted, being unable to completely mask the admiration in his voice. Taking stock of his situation, he discovered a multitude of minor cuts and abrasions. Looking back at Ryoga, he snarled, “Now you will truly see Hell, `cause I'm sending you there!”

 

The promise of an imminent demise had a desired effect in that Ryoga paused to make sure he had heard correctly. Before he could even blink on the reboot, his throat was punctured by the fingertips of Ranma, inserting something that really didn't belong.

 

“So long, fucker,” he taunted for the last time, moving away in a light sprint. He'd just taken cover behind the truck when the grenade went off, turning the upper portion of Ryoga's body into a messy paste.

 

“Three down, Lord knows how many to go,” Ranma said to himself while ignoring the smoking mass that he had once called a best friend. Action was needed before thoughts of what he had done could set in, so he quickly charged the wide open front door.

 

“NO! GET OFF OF ME!” reverberated throughout the interior of the Mansion, acting like a beacon to Ranma. He charged the upper floors, ignoring the dungeon level simply because that wouldn't have any class. Kuno was many things, however he would only use the dungeon in his basement for people that really pissed him off.

 

Like Ranma.

 

Checking the rooms as he went, he didn't find a soul. He did stumble across Kodachi's, and found some very interesting artwork. He did take a moment to critique the computer renditions of himself, most in the buff and more than a few of her fantasies of him.

 

“Jesus, talk about delusional. Two feet long? Not a chance, more like a solid ten,” he groused to himself before leaving the room and it's odd yet somehow appealing artwork behind.

 

“LET ME GO!” shouted the voice again, much closer than when he had entered the Mansion. It sounded like Akane, and as he crept closer to the room that the voice originated from he heard the response.

 

“Nay, fair Akane. The sorcerers spell hath been broken, for I hath proven thus by taking thou maidenhood,” lectured Kuno.

 

“Go to hell you pig!” she screamed, before a meaty THWACK came from the room. Ranma surmised that the sound was more than likely a closed backhand, as there was no THUD to indicated a body hitting the floor.

 

“If thou doth persist in praying for the return of the sorcerer, then I shall hath to smite thee,” was the answer, along with the SLANG of a sword being drawn from its scabbard.

 

“Kill me you sick fuck, you've already taken something that can never be replaced. Ranma will come, and you WILL DIE!” proclaimed Akane, before her voice started to gargle. Judging by the soft crying of the others in the room, she had gone to meet her mother by way of a katana through the heart.

 

Indeed it was true, for inside the room the dying body of Akane was pinned to the wall with the katana. One of the greater injustices of the universe was that it was the Saotome honor blade, not the one belonging to Kuno. As the women, still chained to the wall, cried as quietly as they could, the three males present seemed disappointed in the loss of a play toy. Then they all noticed that the temperature was dropping rapidly, even though the sun was shining and the room was pretty much sealed.

 

Before anybody could react, the door slowly opened. The hinges gave off a long CREAK as the door swung fully open to reveal Ranma.

 

“Sweet merciful shit,” deadpanned Gosunkugi. While the inside of the room was about as cold as the Arctic in winter, the aura Ranma was putting out made him look like he was stepping straight out of hell, for behind him appeared to be in flames.

 

“Hello boys, remember me?” he asked in a conversationalist tone, before his eyes went wild and his aura danced around his body like it had a mind of its own. “I'M BACK!” He leapt into action, taking down the Spook before he could try any of his voodoo. Hiroshi was present, but as his one time friend was back and looking ready to kill, he wisely jumped to his death out of the third floor window. Gosunkugi followed shortly, landing on his head which twisted his neck at an odd angle.

 

“Don't even open your trap Kuno. I'm going to avenge Akane, avenge the others, rescue the girls, kill you, level this place and be home in time for the game. Well, in no particular order, that is,” declared Ranma before moving at Amaguriken speeds. By using the now open and free of glass window, he was able to free the remaining girls from the wall, get them into the bed of the truck where there were plenty of blankets and ration packs, all within five seconds. He noticed a medic unit wandering about and had called them over before his final leap into the Mansion.

 

The fight was on.

 

Kuno was no slouch with the sword, even if it didn't belong to him. Ranma was able to be on the offense, yet he had to retreat every time Kuno would get s good series of slashes in. He was being serious about the sword, as this one was steel and not wood. Several times he attempted to disarm Kuno, but the madman was always ready with a counter.

 

Back and forth they went, both accumulating damage in a hurry. Half an hour later, just when they were both beginning to tire, Kuno overextended on a diagonal slash-thrust-thrust maneuver. This left him wide open for a chop to his sword arm at the elbow, causing him to drop the weapon.

 

“Now it ends,” simply stated Ranma as there was no need for great semantics now. As he went for the finishing move, the out of sight right arm of Kuno produced a .44 Magnum.

 

“Yes, today you die,” spat the madman, bringing his arm up quickly to take as many shots as he could at Ranma before he could be killed.

 

The pigtailed one saw the reflective glint of the polished aluminum, and moved as fast as he could to finish this fight. He managed to knock Kuno down before the gun went off, a through and through to his left shoulder. Ignoring the pain, he put his full strength into stomping on the True Blunder's neck effectively crushing his windpipe.

 

Returning to the truck revealed the squad of medics still there, tending to Ukyo. The wounds on all of the girls were substantial, from broken bones to torn ligaments and hyper extended muscles. They did take time to patch up his wounded shoulder before he pulled the SMAW out of weapons space.

 

“Fire in the hole!” he shouted, and watched as the Infantry hit the dirt while the Yakuza thugs looked confused. He took aim at the approximate place the support beam would be between floors and pulled the trigger. The round performed as advertised, punching through the wall before the time delay fuse ignited the novel explosives. The center section of the Mansion collapsed in a giant dust cloud, leaving either end standing like a statue.

 

“Time to go,” he said to nobody, motioning for the medics to get into the truck bed. Trying to get out of the front gate was going to be impossible as the thugs had attempted to escape, engaging in hand to hand with the Infantry. Pulling the M-32 out, he fired all six grenades at the wall, creating a very nice gate of his own.

 

Before jumping into the driver seat, he made sure every weapon that was in his care was picked up. If nothing else, the resale of the small arms would help his tapped accounts. The heavier stuff that wasn't loaned he was thinking of selling to the government or local police departments.

 

That could wait until later. Now, he drove back to his camp on the mountain. The squad of medics were still busy with the girls, so he motioned the squad of Infantry from before to the Howitzer.

 

“Your discretion on targets including the Mansion, I have what I came for,” he told them before beginning to pick up what he had laid out but didn't use. The injury to his shoulder did slow him down a bit, although he took advantage of the situation to watch as the rest of the Kuno Mansion was shelled into oblivion.

 

Once his self-assigned tasks were complete, barring the help of some more hands, he decided to check of the others. They were all physically bandaged up, but their mental wounds were still bleeding.

 

“Ranma, you came back,” greeted Kasumi, her entire emotional state screaming timid. While she may have been a background character before, now she was on the front lines and she found that she didn't like it one bit. Looking towards the subject of her statement, she couldn't help but begin to cry.

 

“I'm sorry I left in the first place,” he replied while embracing her in a hug. “If I'd stayed, none of this would have happened.”

 

“If we hadn't driven you off, you mean,” countered Nabiki, her tone indicating high levels of self loathing. She wanted the contact that her surviving sister had and muscled her way into his embrace.

 

“Well talk about that later,” he said softly, the Howitzer now silent as the fighting had stopped. “For now, let's get ready to go.”

 

“Go where?” questioned Ukyo as she watched the squad manhandle the big gun towards the truck to hitch it up.

 

“My place in the States,” he answered, making certain that everything was loaded and ready to go. “You're coming with me, this much I promise. Beyond that, only time will tell.”

 

The drive to the docks was a quiet one, each lost in their own thoughts. Ranma had fulfilled his end of the bargain and hoped that the US government would grant his requests as a `reward' for ending the threat of Kuno and his gang.

 

The girls, their minds were awhirl with the memories of what had happened to them, the fact that they had lost one of their own.

 

Whatever the future might bring, it would be interesting.

 

TBC

 

This is going to be a REVIEW CONTINUED story only, meaning if I get a lot of positive feedback about it then I'll write more. Since I received a few reviews I expanded this with a few more scenes, and a better cliffhanger. If you have already reviewed, feel free to send me a message. If you REALLY want to see more, leave a review. This means stop being lazy and SIGN IN.

 

Ja!