Ranko lay awake on the hard cot, sleep eluding her despite her
valiant efforts to claim it. The heat in the small, dark room was almost
stifling, which certainly didn't help matters any. She ended up with the
covers on the floor, the nightshirt along with them as she lay in only the
bra and panties she had been given.
She stared into the deep shadows, her eyes having long adjusted to
the absence of light. The vague shapes of the chair and empty wardrobe, no
more than a thin metal cabinet really, her only company aside from her thoughts.
The confusion was almost as bad as the heat. Ranko didn't pay any
heed to the beads of sweat that formed on her body, instead concentrating on
quieting her rambunctious mind as it raced about in circles.
Something was definitely strange about the way Shan Pu acted around
her. Ranko could see torment and anguish in the elder woman's violet eyes
whenever they fell upon her, almost as if she were remembering something
painful from long ago. Despite her explanation of mistaken identity, Ranko
knew Shan was hiding something, but for the life of her couldn't figure out
what. Maybe if she could actually remember...
It always kept coming back to that. Ranko didn't remember. She
sometimes had vague feelings of familiarity, of a life once lived, but the
feelings and images were even more jagged and disorienting than the amnesia
itself.
Growling softly in frustration, she swung her legs off the cot and
rose to her feet. The stuffy room, coupled with the nagging doubts, had
finally won out. She definitely wouldn't be getting to sleep anytime soon,
and just laying there letting her mind jump through hoops was pointless.
Ranko strode purposefully to the door, her hand stopping just short of the
knob. Stepping back over to the pile of sheets, she retrieved her
nightshirt, a white oversized thing with the picture of an absurdly drawn
bear named "Yogi", and put it back on. Other people had to be awake, and she
didn't want them to see her clad in just her underwear.
======================================
Wataru Kuno stood before the hulking Juggernaut, his eyes tracing
every curve with the analytical gaze of a master craftsman inspecting his
latest work. Indeed, Juggernaut WAS his creation, though he hadn't actually
built it.
He often came to the monstrosity's repair bay, dismissing the
technicians upon his arrival. Gazing at the oversized killing machine never
failed to bolster his ego and renew his sense of purpose, not that it ever
dulled really. Juggernaut may have been viewed as a failure by the military,
police, news media, and even the technicians and scientists assigned to it,
but it was in fact a success. Juggernaut was Wataru's first and, in many
ways, greatest triumph.
Only a few people in the whole of Kuno Industries knew about the
human brain that had been grafted into Juggernaut's systems, but none
actually knew whose it had once been. To them, it had been a brain pulled
from a fresh cadaver some years back. They didn't know the truth, didn't
know about the elaborate revenge of which this was the result. Seeing that
man humbled, made into a mindless slave was a satisfyng thing, indeed. The
cost had been enormous, both in time and money, but in the end was
definitely worth it. X, on the other hand, had been a complete failure and
was still a threat.
Pushing X out of his mind, Wataru began to concentrate on other
things, like the rogue R-014-F. The clone was incomplete, the programming
not having taken root when the development cycle had been interrupted. The
current estimates placed her at forty-seven percent, nowhere near as strong
as R-033-M, but still stronger than any three men. Also, she had to have
holed up with that Chinese bimbo, Shampoo.
Therein lay the problem, Shampoo was a sly one. Very few had managed
to evade his wrath for an extended period of time, and she had lasted longer
than anyone. She had also managed to build up a resistance of sorts and pull
off a few successful, if minor, attacks on his corporate holdings. She would
have to be dealt with. Fortunately, he had a plan ready to smoke her out, or
at least one or two of her most trusted lieutenants. From there, he would
learn what he needed, and both that Chinese bitch and the rogue clone would
be his. The clone would be disposed of in a manner fitting any defective
piece of equipment. Shampoo, on the other hand, would become his personal
property. The thought made him smile blissfully for a moment before he
turned to leave the hangar.
He cast one last look at Juggernaut, as per his custom for these
visits, and said, "Sleep tight, father."
==========================================
The air was somewhat cooler on the outside, the sweat drying on
Ranko's skin as she padded barefoot down the dimly lit corridor. Had she
known that only sentries were allowed in the halls at lights out, she still
wouldn't have cared. She needed to walk a bit, to clear her head and maybe
get a little snack if she could find the mess hall or whatever they called it.
The silence was as deep outside the room as it had been inside, the
only sounds being her feet on the stone floor and the whisper of the
nightshirt's fabric as it rubbed against her knees. Had she thought about
it, all she'd have needed was a teddy bear and her hair in twin pigtails on
each side of her head to complete the image of a lost and innocent girl.
Her mind was finally beginning to quiet down, much to Ranko's
relief. Maybe she could finally get some sleep, after a quick nosh and...
Ranko froze in mid-step, the sound behind her almost too soft to be
heard. Her ears had registered it, however, and every sense went on high
alert. Someone was behind her, stalking her in the corridors like a
predatory animal after a kill. Her nerves tingled as her muscles tightened,
preparing for the fight she knew was going to come. The silence went from
deep to deafening as her ears strained for any other signs of her stalker.
Her heart began to beat faster in her chest, from fear and anticipation.
Finally, after a minute, Ranko could stand no more.
"Where are you!" she shouted as she whirled, seeing nothing behind
her. Her eyes scanned every shadow, every nook and cranny they could find,
noticing nothing. Suddenly, a strange distortion moved into a pool of light,
the air almost seeming to warp around it. Ranko took up a stance from
instinct when the figure became fully visible.
"You!" Before her stood a man clad in a black trenchcoat and fedora,
blood-red eyes gazing from beneath a mask of equally dark metal. A strange
feeling of fear began to creep into her shell of anger. This was the one
from Kuno Industries, the one who had tried, and nearly succeeded, to blow
her away. Now he was here, alone with her. What did this mean?
"I am not here to fight you," he said in a ghostly mechanical voice
that sent an involuntary shiver up her spine.
"I don't buy that," Ranko spat, tensed and ready for anything he
might try. The gun was absent, but that didn't mean he wasn't a threat.
"Believe what you want, I do not care. But if I were here to kill
you, I would have done so already."
"You already tried once, pal."
"And I did not succeed, unfortunately." The shadowy figure took a
step closer, Ranko taking one back in response.
"What do you want?"
"To warn you," he said, "I'm watching you. Everywhere you go, I'll
be there. You may be Shampoo's new pet, but that means squat to me. If you
screw up, even once, I WILL dispose of you. Understand?"
"Yeah," Ranko snarled, even though she really didn't. What was this
guy's problem? "Just who the hell are you, anyway?"
"You don't need to know that," he replied, not moving from his place.
"Are you with Shampoo?"
"I'm with myself." With that, he vanished into the air again, the
distortion left behind moving into a patch of shadow and disappearing.
"Ranko!" came a male voice from behind. She whirled about, nearly
lunging for the man until she saw the carbine in his hands. He was about her
height, a long scar runing the left side of his rugged face. "What are you
doing out?"
"Just walking," she replied, bringing herself back under control.
Had he heard? The guard studied her for a moment before moving past her.
"Get back to your quarters, miss," he said politely, "only guards
are allowed here at lights out." He left the same way the stranger had, and
Ranko suppressed the urge to tell the sentry about it. If he hadn't heard,
then he didn't need to know.
//Shampoo's new pet?\\ she thought as she made her way back to the
room. What had he meant by that? The only thing that was certain at the
moment was the need for sleep. Her mind had finally become fatigued, and was
demanding rest. She would get answers from Shan in the morning.
================================
"What is your report, Miko?" Shampoo asked the petite woman who had
enterd her quarters. She wore her black hair in a braided tail that fell
over her shoulder, expressive brown eyes set in her chinadoll face above a
pert nose and full lips. Shampoo had to resist the urge to cast her gaze
lower than the other's eyes.
The two had met when Shampoo had first started organizing a
resistance to Kuno Industries' unchecked expansion. Shampoo had only a
somewhat stronger grasp of Japanese and an indomitable will to see the
conglomerate punished. MIko, on the other hand, had the same determination
along with a knack for getting accurate and vital information, aside from
skill with a computer which Shampoo could never understand.
"Bad news, I'm afraid," Miko responded, also keeping her eyes firmly
on Shampoo's. The two had hit it off, slowly building the resistance into
what it was today. During the course of that, however, something else had
developed between them.
Be it fate, lonliness, or two wounded hearts in need of consolation,
Shampoo and Miko had one night shared the pain Wataru Kuno had inflicted on
them. A long discussion of times past, something Shampoo had never engaged
in before, ended with the two in bed. It had been the first time since
becoming a woman back in Joketsuzoku that she had slept with another female,
nor had it been the last. The two had shared other such intimate encounters
after, making love with a passion Shampoo hadn't felt since... since she had
chased after Ranma. It didn't last, each ackowledging that it had been a
temporary thing, and probably a mistake, but the feelings were still there
on a certain level.
"What else is new?" Shampoo asked deadpan. "How bad is it?"
"Ammunition stocks are dangerously low," Miko said in a
bussiness-like voice, "no surprise since K.I. controls just about all of the
ammo and weapons that enter or leave Japan."
"We cannot buy more?"
"I'm afraid not. Our funds are shorter than our ammunition." Miko
didn't add that their sources for weapons and ammo didn't accept Visa or
American Express. It was cash or electronic funds transfers to unnumbered
Swiss accounts.
"What do we do?" Shampoo muttered mostly to herself. Money,
unfortunately, wasn't easy to come by. Especially so when you were labelled
a terrorist. Nobody in the almost miniscule resistance proper was in it for
the money, just the promise of stopping Wataru. If there was one thing she
admired about the Japanese, it was their loyalty and determination to their
cause. The fact that their leader was Chinese didn't bother them as much as
one would think. Too many of them had suffered greatly, having seen friends
and family imprisioned and killed for even speaking out against Kuno Industries.
"I don't know," Miko replied. There were ways, of course, but none
Shampoo would employ. She would not traffic narcotics, nor make any deals
with organized criminals. Those were but two options, but the others were
even less appealing. "I have some people shaking the bushes. If they come up
with anything, I'll let you know."
"Good. Thank you," Shampoo said half-heartedly. Not for the first
time, she began to wonder if allowing Ranma... Ranko!... to stay was in fact
a mistake. These thoughts, these feelings, she hadn't had to deal with them
in years. The fight against Wataru had allowed her to ignore her pain, her
failures. But now, seeing the spitting image of his female body, it was all
coming back in a rush.
"Shampoo," Miko said, her voice changing from brisk to gentle in
less than a second, "what is it?"
"Nothing."
"Bull." MIko moved over to Shampoo's left side, kneeling down and
placing a comforting hand on the other's shoulder. "You've been like this
ever since that Ranko girl showed up."
"She... reminds me of someone I knew a long time ago." Shampoo let
out a longing, mournful sigh. "Someone who was very close to me."
"As close as Ranma?" Shampoo paused for a moment, unsure of what to
say. She hadn't told Miko about Jusenkyou, not wanting her main ally to
think her mad. She wouldn't have been able to prove it, either, having been
rid of her curse on her return to China.
"Yes," Shampoo answered. It wasn't the whole truth, but it would do.
After all, by amazon law Ranma's male and female forms would be regarded as
two separate people due to the nature of his curse.
"Shampoo-chan," Miko rarely used that affectionate suffix anymore,
"all that is in the past. What's important is the here and now."
"I know that," Shampoo replied, "but...." She hadn't noticed how
their faces had drawn closer during the brief exchange. Their lips touched,
Shampoo melting into the moment just as Miko was. As the kiss deepened, a
deep part of her begain to protest the action.
//This is wrong!\\ it shouted as their tongues danced. //It was
wrong before, and it's wrong now!\\ The voice went mainly unheard as their
hands began to slowly roam, until it finally managed to break through.
"Shampoo..." Miko whispered apologetically, shame in her eyes. "I'm
so sorry."
"Don't be," Shampoo answered. It was just as much her fault as it
was Miko's. She had strong feelings for the other girl, which Miko returned,
but it wasn't right. She could not love Miko, nor any other woman, in that
way. The Japanese woman understood and bore it well, despite the pain it had
to cause. The times they spent together may have helped, but they were
mistakes better learned from and left in the past.
The knock from beyond the door violently shattered the moment,
startling Shampoo and Miko enough to make them physically jump. Shampoo
quickly adjusted herself in the chair while Miko hastily moved to the other
end of the table.
"Come!" Shampoo called as she regained her composure. The door
opened, revealing Ranko behind it. She wore the same outfit Sean had given
her the day before, hair still in the braided tail.
"I need to talk to you," Ranko said, glancing briefly at Miko.
Shampoo heard the tone in the young girl's voice, an anxious mix of
confusion, anger, and resolve.
"Of course. Ranko, this is Miko. Miko, Ranko."
"A pleasure," Miko said with a slight bow.
"Yeah," Ranko replied, returning the gesture more pro forma than
anything else. Miko turned and left the room, not casting any glances back.
"What is it?"
"I was out walkin' last night," Ranko began.
"Lights out is at 1900."
"I know, I just needed to clear my head. Anyway, I met this guy in
one of the halls. Said he was watchin' me, and he'd take me out if I screwed
up."
//X,\\ Shampoo thought even before Ranko began her description. She
knew he hated Ranko, and on a certain level couldn't blame him, but why had
he come to her like that?
"You know him?" The question didn't catch Shampoo off guard, knowing
full well that she would ask. But what to tell her?
"X not really part of resistance," Shampoo said, unconsciously
slipping back into her broken Japanese. Those who knew her well enough would
see it as a sign that she was under a lot of stress and confusion. Ranko,
however, just looked at her quizzically.
"What?"
"Sorry," Shampoo said when she realized what she'd done. "I do that
sometimes. My Japanese isn't perfect.
"Anyway, X isn't officially part of this group. He's more of an
independant operative. He provides information from time to time, and
occaisionally more direct assistance with any operations." Ranko continued
to look at her, mistrust plain in her deep blue eyes. She knew that it
wasn't the whole story. "That's all I can say, honestly."
"Uh-huh," Ranko said, unconvinced. "Who is he? Can you tell me that?"
"X never told me his identity, nor has he shown me his face." That
much was true, though she did know his real name. But would it be right to
tell Ranko? She probably wouldn't remember it, but she'd want the story of
why he hated her so much. And that was a can of worms that didn't need to be
opened. "When I see him again, I'll tell him not to threaten you anymore."
"Yeah. Thanks," Ranko spat, clearly angry about something. Without
even a "by your leave", she turned and stormed out of Shampoo's quarters,
leaving the elder woman alone with her guilt.
Yes, it had been a mistake to allow her to stay. She should have
just turned the girl out right at the first and been done with it. But
Shampoo knew she could no more have done that than she could chew off her
own arm or leg.
Ranko had to know the truth sometime. She had to know where she came
from, what the secret behind her existence was, but Shampoo wasn't sure
Ranko could handle it nor if she could bear to tell her.
===============================================
//More secrets,\\ Ranko thought sourly as she sat on the lumpy cot.
Her fists shook on her knees, anger and frustration welling up inside almost
to the boiling point. Her eyes stung from the tears that wanted to escape
and from the effort of holding them back. She didn't know why, but she would
not allow herself to cry.
It had been bad enough that Shampoo hadn't given her a straight
answer, but to patronize her like that! To tell that X guy not to threaten
her anymore? What did she look like, some kid?
"RRAAGH!" Ranko leapt up, lashing out at the nearby wall with a
fist. The stone and mortar cracked under the force of the impact, leaving a
small dent in the surface.
Ranko stood there, chest heaving as the tears finally managed to
break free. She felt them leave hot salty trails down her face, dangling off
her chin for a moment before hitting the floor.
"Why?" she asked in a tight voice, "why can't I remember? Why won't
she tell me?" Was Shampoo just using her? Using her memories like bait to
get her to join this resistance thing? Did Shampoo know anything at all?
Oh, she knew, alright. She knew a lot more than she was letting on.
Ranko lowered her hand, the appendage unhurt from smashing into the wall.
She would go back to Shampoo's room, and she would get answers even if she
had to use force!
=========================================
It was something Wataru Kuno did every day around late afternoon in
the hour he customarily scheduled for himself during every business day. The
door to the office was locked, entry barred to everyone. If they wanted his
attention, they would have to wait.
He knelt by the far wall in the darkened office, the heady smell of
incense filling the spacious room. He whispered softly, hands clasped before
him as he prayed to the spirit of the woman in the shrine. The picture held
the face of a woman with healthy skin, mahogany hair styled in a short bob
and a pair of mischevious brown eyes that seemed to miss nothing. Below the
picture was a name: Nabiki Tendo.
He prayed to the departed spirit of his mother, prayed that she was
proud of him. That she was pleased with how he had made Kuno Industries grow
into the power that it was. That he was close to fulfilling his dream. And
that he had crushed nearly all her enemies.
At the turn of the millennium, Kuno Industries had been little more
than a consumer electronics coporation doing well enough to keep from going
under. They weren't as powerful as the big names like Sony and Samsung on
the global market, but that would soon change.
Tatewaki Kuno had inherited the reins from his father after the
latter's death and quickly assumed the role of a figurehead. There were
executives and Vice Presidents to actually run the company, Kuno was there
just for show. He quickly began to equate himself no longer with Samurai,
but with the Shogun of yore, with the employees beneath him as mere vassals.
Nobody had minded, so long as he didn't get in the way.
A young graduate from Nippon Tech, Nabiki Tendo had applied for her
first position in the business world at Kuno Industries. A good word from
President Kuno, coupled with her grades and great financial sense, had
gotten a relatively high-paying job in the marketing department.
Nabiki had surprised everyone by rising to senior vice president in
just five short years. During that time, rumors had abounded about her
skyrocketing success, stories told around the lunch tables that the girl was
sleeping her way to the top. When she married Tatewaki shortly after
attaining the second-highest position in the company, many thought the
rumors had been confirmed. People just seemed to ignore just how well the
company was doing, how much money they were pulling in, how far they were
expanding, and how much influence they were gaining on the world market.
Wataru never knew if the vicious rumors about his mother were true,
nor did he care to find out. Just barely a year after the wedding, a
traditional Japanese affair as Kuno demanded, Wataru was born.
From there, Nabiki had begun showing him the ropes, how to deal,
swindle, and blackmail ones way to the top. He had always had a gift for
numbers, which Nabiki had turned to financial ends. By the time he was
fifteen, he could basically run the company by himself. His father taught
him the ways of Kendo, the only worthwhile thing he ever did.
On the eve of his sixteenth birthday, however, his illusion had been
destroyed. Hearing screams coming from the master bedroom of the re-modeled
Kuno Estate, Wataru had snuck out of his own room to see what the commotion was.
The door to the master bedroom had been open, light from inside
pouring out into the hall. He could see a shadow stretching across the floor
onto the wall opposite the open doorway, his mother's voice begging for
Tatewaki to stop.
He remembered the cold lump of fear that settled in his stomach as
he peered around the door jamb. He saw the body of a young man maybe five or
so years older than him, his head missing with a rapidly expanding pool of
blood forming beneath the stump. He saw his mother crawling backwards across
the floor, terror in her eyes as his father stood over her with a
blood-streaked katana. The final scream, the sound, oh god the sound!
Wataru snapped back to reality, surprised to find himself shaking
from the powerful emotions of that bygone time. It still shocked him how
quickly and violently the moment overtook him.
His mother had never truly loved Tatewaki. In fact, the only person
in her whole extended family that she cared about was Wataru. And the only
other person he cared about in the entire world was his mother.
She'd been having affairs for years after marrying Tatewaki, often
taking handsome young studs to her bed or to a hotel somewhere. Wataru had
known this, yet had refrained from using it against Nabiki. She had made it
quite clear that even though she loved him dearly, she was the last person
on earth he would ever want to blackmail.
After the murder, Tatewaki had given Wataru some bullshit spiel
about honor and how Nabiki had betrayed him. Wataru didn't point out that
his father was no less honorable, still at times chasing after Ranma and
Akane. Wataru had, in fact, briefly considered going to that Ranma and
telling him what happened. He had seen the man fight before, and knew that
he would tear Tatewaki limb from limb.
But that would not have been satisfying. Wataru wanted the pleasure
of humiliating and subjugating his father all to himself. At that moment,
something had galvanized in his heart, a cold streak of rage and madness
that he never knew had existed, yet he embraced nonetheless. Had he known
his Aunt Kodachi he may have surmised that it had come from her side of the
family, the curse of madness that had manifested itself so differently in
three generations of Kunos had finally come out in the fourth.
Wataru extinguished the stick of incense, closing the shrine and
re-sealing the recessed portal in which it rested. As he rose, several vents
in the ceiling began to suck out the scent of the incense to replace it with
clean air. It would take a few turns through the washer to get the smell out
his clothes, but such didn't matter to him.
The hour over, Wataru once more turned his mind to business. The
report from Genesis Chamber Beta-9 stated that unit R-033-M was in place and
the rejuvenation process was ready to begin. The procedure would require at
least five hours to avoid any permanent damage to the unit itself, which was
of no consequence. Wataru was in no particular hurry. There was no way
Shampoo and her band of misfits could ever hope to de-throne him.
=============================================
That's about it for this chapter. What do ya think?
Jed