This is the first expansion of The Name's Saotome, Part One.  You will have
to excuse me, but I don't have a spell checker. (Gasp)  I would greatly
appreciate C&C as this is a rough first draft.  Everything is still fairly
nebulous as far as plot and story goes so feel free to make suggestions.
Obviously some work is required on formatting, but I wanted to get a
reaction on the way the story was turning out before I continue.

Include StdDisclaimer


The Name's Saotome
by Sean Hayden (Maxwell Edison)

I could start off by saying it was a dark and stormy night.  It was, but
that's just Chicago.  It's nothing but a break from the oppresive July heat
of Illinois.  
I'm a gum shoe.  A private dick, you know?  My secretary got off for the
day, and I'm waiting for a phone call.  My trusty service revolver lies on
the desk buried under a clutter of paper work.  The fan stirs the musty air
and rustles old reports and liability claims.  The name on my door reads
Private Investigator: Ranma Sao -  That's it, the painter found out that my
secretary welched on his payment on some technicality.  It's been that way
for two years.  I take a pull off of my Sake and push aside the demolished
remnants of leftover Sushi.  I don't bother to clean up for my client.  She
won't come.

A knock sounds at my door.  I look up in surprise.  The brunette standing
in my doorway is wearing a flapper outfit, Twenty-three skidoo and all
that.  That's not what catches my attention though.  I'm staring at the wad
of thousand yen bills she just lobbed at my desk. I look at it
suspisciously, and thumb the clams.  It's the real deal, all right.  Sixty
thousand yen.  Nabiki could've smelled how much it was.  I put the money in
my jacket pocket and nod for her to sit.

"What can I do for you, Miss..."

"Tendo."  She winces at the Miss.  She's got one of those plainly beautiful
faces, the kind that a scowl will give you the screaming heebie-jeebies but
a smile would light up a dark alley like sunshine.  "Mr. Sao, I'd like to
hire you to recover some lost property of mine."

"Saotome,  the name's Saotome." I say.  Yeah, just like a remember her.
She's a real Mrs. Grundy, you know?  Not a very pleasant person, in my
opinion, anyways.

She looks flustered, she looks back at the door and notices the beginning
of a T at the end of my name. "Oh," She says, "Mr. Saotome, will you take it?"

What does she mean, will I take it?  Of course I will, this is the first
job Nabiki hasn't scared away with some kind of jinxed contract.  I'd fire
the skirt, but she managed to hijack me into a contract of my own.

"Of course, you understand the contract, Mr. Saotome?"

Yeah, I understood it all right.  She wanted me to find the Xian Zen Kyo
Diamond.  The biggest diamond in the world.  It had a bloodier history than
the hope diamond and Kellog's cereal combined.  And now, she wants me to
find it.

"Yeah, I understand." I nodded to her.

It took a couple of minutes to reassure the skirt, but I managed to get her
out.  It was time to pay a few visits to my sources.  I grabbed my shoulder
holster, checked my revolver and holstered it.  My hat and coat weren't in
the best shape, but what the hell.  I figured the people I was going to
talk to wouldn't care.

Specifically one rival of mine, in Chinatown.  One Tatewaki Kuno, police
detective.  The "blue-thunder" of Chicago.  Yeah right, he's a jerk and a
mark to boot.  He occaisionally comes up with useful material.  Not to
mention he's infatuated with my secretary.  Poor guy will do anything to
get a date with a skirt, and for some reason Nabiki seemed to hold his
interest.

"Kuno!" I called out to him.  He's not hard to recognize in his Gi after
he's been practicing.  He's probablly the only joe in Chicago who has the
nerve to walk around Chinatown dressed in that get up.  I felt out of place
in the training hall dressed in a suit and packing heat.  I cracked my
knuckles and grinned when he came over.

"That's Detective Tatewaki, to scum like you."

Scum?  Just because I haven't shaved in two days and I look like something
the cat dragged in doesn't mean I look scummy.  I told him so.  The poor
jerk has some kind of ego problem.  All the coppers have that, especially
in Chinatown.  Not even the Yak's will mess with them.  Not with Senior
Detective Tatewaki Kuno around, anyway.

I shucked off my jacket, shirt, hat and holster.  "Want to go a round,
Tat-Chan?"  I said, mocking him.
"You are not worthy of my competition, Saotome."
"What's a matter, little Tat-Chan scared of the nasty private eye?"
"You test my patience and my honor Saotome!  Prepare to die!"
He always says that line of bull.  I usually don't beat him up too hard.
But the scum line had him askin' for a knuckle sandwich.
I threw an uppercut that connected solid to his jaw.  Kuno has one of those
glass jaws.  Hit the sweet spot and he's out cold.  Never could defend it,
and I ain't in no mood to play with th' jerk.

He hit the floor, bokken and all, like a sack of potatos.  What a
schlemiel.  I smacked him around to wake up the dumb jerk from his nap.
"Kuno!  Wake up!"
"Ah! Miss Tendo, thou art truly lovely!"
"Aww, shaddup, ya jerk.  I got some questions to ask."
He looked at me clear headed once again, "What do you require of me, Saotome?"
"Whadd'ya know about the XZK Gem?"
"The Xian Zen Kyo?" He thought for a second.  "There's word on the streets
that something hot is about to move around.  Something big."
"Whose got th' goods?"
"I do not know, Saotome.  The police do not follow up such vagaries."
For once I wished the pompous ass would speak english.  I finished my
business with Kuno and searched out my second contact.  An old martial arts
teacher I used to go to.

Happosai was without a doubt one of the dirtiest old Japanese I knew.  He
was older than dirt, and as perverted and lecherous as he was old.  He had
a knack for knowing stuff, if you could satisfy his disgusting habits.  I
armed myself with the appropriate bribes and headed for his dojo.
"Hey! Old man!"  I called out.
"Ranma m'boy! So good to see you!"  I jumped at least five feet straight up.
"Don't do dat!" I said, slipping into my child hood accent.
"Heh heh.  You were always kind'a slow."  The wizened old caricature said.
"I got half a mind to whip you right now, for forgetting what I taught you."
Jeez!  The old fart never did like the fact I went out and got a job,
rather than be a destitute martial artist for the rest of my life.  The art
is one thing, but I gotta pay th' bills.
"I got some questions for ya."  I said to him.
"Sorry, haven't got the time.  Students to er, train. Don'cha know."  Yeah,
right.  Students he says.  More than likely skirts to chase.  I'm tellin'
ya, this guy was a panty hound like you wouldn't believe.  Still makes me
sick to think about it.

I dangled a brown paper bag in front of him, part of a small stash Nabiki
supplies me with.  For a modest fee of course.  "You sure?" I asked,
drawing out the 'sure' to emphasize I had something he badly wanted.
He folded his arms, in a gesture of defiance.  He probablly thinks I've got
a bag full of doughnuts or something.  Which, I can't blame him, seeing as
how I've pulled that gag before.  Talk about a bait and switch.  I've used
every trick in the book to scam him, and he knows all of 'em by now.  Only
the real McCoy will get him to talk.
"Let's go somewhere private."  I say.
"No problem, Ranma m'boy!"  The old man says, smelling a deal.
Lately I've been pretty much on the up and up with the old goat, so he
hurries in the back with me.  I casually dangled the paper bag, Happosai
can smell the stuff, guaranteed every time.  He hopped around like a kid
waiting for penny candy.
"Let me see!" He cries.
I let him peek at the goods, three panties and two brassieres.  Just what
the old pervert likes.  "Ranma!"  He grabs for the sack and I snatch it away.
"I got a couple'a questions first, Old man."  He sulks for a minute, then
his mood brightens.
"Anything, Ranma!"
"I hear there's some hot goods getting moved around.  Maybe some rocks, I
hear."
"Ranma,"  He says disaprovingly, "you accuse me of fencing gems?  Really, I
thought you knew me better."

"I know you might have some goods on it.  But...  If you're not interested
in this..."  I shake the bag for good measure.  He starts to salivate.
Disgusting.  It's amazing, people with hobbies like his rarely live long.
"Wait, something is coming back to me.  Yessss, I seem to recall someone
asking if they knew a buyer for a certain Xian Zen Kyo diamond."

I can barely contain my excitement, it couldn't be this easy.  I keep a
solid poker face, he's holding out.

"Do you have a name to go with this, someone?"  I say casually, like I was
asking a Joe the time of day.

"Hmm." I am not impressed, he's holding out for more.  He knows what this
is worth to me.

"Perhaps this would jog your memory."  I say and toss the old goat a choicy
undergarment.  I have no clue were that Jane of mine get's this stuff, but
I usually don't care to know.  The previous owner had not washed it after
its use and therefore it had a bouquet only Happosai would recognize.  

His memory seems to come in spurts.  "Well, Ranma m'boy, it does seem to be
coming back to me." He screeches. "Ah!  Now I remember, it was a young
lady.  Beautiful raven black hair and huge -- attributes."  He reminices,
"She did have a strange sense of humor.  Truthfully, I think the missy was
quite unbalanced.  She called herself, 'The Black Rose'."

Kodachi!  The Black Rose was behind this?  I couldn't believe that even she
would stoop to petty theft.  It didn't make sense, she was rich, and a
madame to boot.  There had to be some ulterior motive behind stealing the
Tendo family legacy.  One thing I knew for certain, greed was not Kodachi's
motivation.   It was something far more sickening.  She wasn't called the
Black Rose for nothing.  Even if it was a self-styled epithet.  Much like
her brother, to his continual discomfort.  

The run ins I had had with the dame were less than pleasant.  The reason I
felt such discomfort was here hobby.  On the surface, it was no where on
par with, say, Happosai's perversions.  Underneath that thin veneer of sexy
woman hood lay a bubbling sewer.  You see, she collected husbands.  Much in
the manner that Henry the Eighth collected wives and disposed of them.
Except old Henry was at least humane about it.  He'd behead them when he
grew weary of them.  She liked to keep ex-husbands around as amusement.

I shuddered, it wasn't pretty.

The old Victorian house was pretty imposing.  I think it was its occupant,
though, that gave me the heebie jeebies.  I had made myself presentable for
my visit.  Madame Tatewaki does not tolerate poor taste in fashion, or
uncleanliness.  It was unpleasant to find out the consequences for
violating her well known rule.  My tuxedo was a hair too tight, compliments
of, you guessed it.  The infamous Nabiki, for a paltry four thousand clams.
 I fiddled with my bow tie and rang the door bell.  An imposing gentleman
opened the door,  I say imposing because the guy was at least two feet
taller than I was.  I did not feel cowed.  I was packing heat, and the poor
cut of my jacket showed the tell tale bulge.

"I'm sorry sir," he apologized in a nasal British accent.  The voice
sounded familiar.  So did the candles on his head. "Weapons are not --"

"Hikaru, holy cow.  How the heck did you get so . . . Big?"  I finished
rather lamely.

"Saotome?"  It was him, I'd recognize that voice anywhere.  He was an old
school friend.  I usually stayed away from the guy.  He was involved in
some . . . queer activities.  Actually, they were pretty bizarre, Voodoun
and the like.  My old man never said anything about the guy, but Mom told
me to stay away from him.  It had been one of the directives I had fully
comprehended at that young age.

But how in the name of . . .  How did he get so damn big?  Understanding
dawned on the massive man's face.  He grinned nastily.  "The madame will
see you."  I didn't like the way he said that.

The interior of the house of ill-repute was dimly lit with candles.  The
faint glow combined with various incenses buring created a powerful
aphrodisiac.  Plush red velvet lined nearly every surface with crystal
candle chandeliers throwing shimmering light patterns.  A small fireplace
offset the room. With several love chairs scattered about.  It was oddly,
stimulating.  I wasn't here for that.  I felt myself tugged away from all
my worries and thoughts.  It took all of my training to focus on the task
at hand.  Ice!  Think ice!

The moll sat by the fireplace, staring at a candle burned very low.  She
wore a cocktail dress--the cut of the dress plunged revealing quite alot,
without giving anything away.  She was in fact, gorgeous.  Yeah, gorgeous,
I thought.  Like a stomach pump.  My composure regained, I sat in the
offered chair.  My investigation had been relatively short, and after this
unpleasant business was concluded I would get the other half of my dough.
Kodachi seemed pleased with herself, like a cat just having toyed with a
mouse and finally eating it with great relish.

Something nagged at my conscience.  Little bells were going off in my head.
 I dismissed the thought.  I was so close to digging myself out of a hole ...

Kodachi broke my train of thought.  She leaned forward and grinned ferally.
 "I think, Ranma Honey--" Her laugh was tinged with an undercurrent of
madness. "That the time has come for us to be together."  Something
clicked.  Could this be an insane plot of hers-- No.  But yes, I had known
her madness to be far more subtle than simple bait.  It was so simple.

She saw the look on my face and grinned.  "So, you've figured it out, Ranma
Honey?"  She purred.  Something was wrong, the earlier warning bells
drowned out everything.  "That's too bad." She continued, "No matter."
That's when everything went dark.

--------------
Sean
Maxwell Edison, Majoring In Medicine
(Does that mean I get to play doctor?)