Ranma ½ © Rumiko Takahashi, Oh

Ranma ½ © Rumiko Takahashi, Oh! My Goddess! © Kosuke Fujishima, as well as any local licensee affiliates. However everything of my own creation connected to this story, including scenarios, titles, dialogue, text, and any original characters are © to myself, and may not be used without permission, but talk to me first and I should be reasonable. Any similarity to existing people or organisations is entirely coincidental, beyond archetypal significance. No animals were harmed through the writing of this story.

Warning:

The story will contain a great deal of potentially offensive, politically incorrect, unfamiliar, or emotionally challenging material, including disturbing characters and philosophies, swearing, layers of irony, and occasional graphic violence. Please use personal discretion, and do not enter without a sense of humour. It’s also using a loose timeframe between scenes, much like the manga itself. Jumps may imply anything from a few hours to several days. The portrayals are almost exclusively matter-of-fact referenced in the source material, rather than any derivatives.

Note: The second, much later written, and imho vastly improved, arc of the story is here kept separate, in an attempt to not let the comparatively slow pacing of the first act scare readers away.

The story thus far

Nabiki has a plan to use her available resources. Corporate life-sentences, Japanese glass-ceilings, and accountability are very, very bad words. Urd is a bored, higher-dimensional, time-spinning, semi-amoral meddler with an itchy trigger-finger, and very suspicious views of what constitutes an interesting ‘solution’ or ‘perfect girlfriend’. Ranma momentarily wishes to get out of a circular routine. Uh-oh…

Nabiki turns herself into an über-metamorph. Absolute power is kind of neat, and corruption is underrated. Urd gives Nabiki a conscience. She's NOT happy. Urd makes Nabiki obsessed with Ranma. She's really giddy. Peorth isn't pleased. Nabiki puts Ranma in intense hypnotic sex therapy to refocus his affections. Ranma is content, needy, ashamed, angry, suspicious, and enthralled. They become a dysfunctional couple! Bizarre situations, and wordy character interactions follow. Nabiki thinks it's perfectly normal to torture antagonists. Ranma disagrees, but forgives her ‘cause she's funny and cute. They still have nearly nothing in common, but that hasn’t stopped most people.

And now for something completely different…

6 months ago:

--

Hibiki Ryoga wandered again, then he wandered some more, and continued to wander until he was sick and tired of it, sat down by a nearby stream, and made a campfire to cook some food. He checked within his backpack. Just his luck, only canned beans left again. There was a book crammed beside it. He took it out. It had brief descriptions of history, traditions and sights within different countries, and useful phrases to ask questions with. It was a present from Akari. He was lonely. He wanted to find her… or Akane. Then everything would be all right. He shook his head. No not Akane, never again… Well, maybe… in case she invited him, or came to visit, or… No, no, show some spine. He had made a decision before that botched wedding. He had to stick to it for more than a few days at a time. Although it had been a few weeks now, that was an improvement. He collected water in his kettle to make some tea. There weren’t any wild boars or bears around, and Akari would have disapproved. Perhaps he could find some mushrooms or berries to make the meal palatable?

He sensed something! The hunter immediately stood up, and looked around for several moments. He checked behind some bushes, then under his backpack. He rubbed his head. How strange, he prided himself on having an incredibly sharp dairyokkan, or aura sense. Well no matter, the beans were ready. He took a spoonful, and instantly spit them out. Eeew! They were out of date.

--

“Hmph! How undignified.”

Ryoga looked around again. Where did the voice come from?

“I’m right above, you blithering idiot!”

Ryoga looked up. His Imperial Majesty, The Throne Prince Hao Long Bu of the Musk Dynasty was standing with crossed arms on a thin branch of a tree, seemingly far too frail to support his weight.

“You! What do you want?” Ryoga was confused, but it was quickly supplanted by rage. This bastard had tried to hurt Akane. “Do you want a fight?”

“How quaint. The swine would think to challenge a dragon.” Hao Bu snapped his fingers. “Li Me!”

Ryoga instinctively leapt to the side, barely managing to avoid a two handed sneak-attack from behind, crushing the earth within a 3-metre radius.

Ryoga was shocked. “You destroyed Akari’s present! Shishi Hokodan!” He blasted Lime with a 6-metres wide powerful torrent of force, blowing the latter through a few dozen perfectly good trees.

Hao Bu smiled, eyes dilated in intense captivated glee “Magnificent!”

Ryoga didn’t let up, nearly immediately reached Lime as he fell, and relentlessly started to pound away before the latter had a chance to recover, rendering him severely bruised and insensate. “You bastard! You bastard! You bastard!” Ryoga panted heavily, but managed to stop himself before causing serious damage. He wiped a tear from his eye. He had betrayed Akari! She would never forgive him! “Heeeerb!” He ran at full speed towards his nemesis.

Hao Bu descended to the ground 20 metres in front of Ryoga. Sneering disdainfully. “Can’t you do anything right? You were running the wrong way.” His teeth flashed in ferocious anticipation.

Ryoga ignored him and unleashed a torrent of chi-reinforced razor-bandannas, each capable of easily cutting through a few feet of solid steel.

“You are about to learn not to bother your betters with children’s tricks.” Hao Bu made a sweep with his right arm. “Hito Ryuu-zan Ha!” Several shimmering blades of pure chi, each capable of slicing past several metres of solid steel, blasted straight through the barrage.

Ryoga managed to evade most of them as he advanced, but was struck dead centre by the others. That hurt! He looked down. It had drawn blood, but mostly surface-level. “Bakusai Tenketsu!” He struck the ground with both index fingers, unleashing a bombardment of small rocks towards the infuriatingly conceited dragon-prince, and screening him long enough to approach further.

Hao Bu caught and threw hundreds of pebbles to the side at a pace far too swift to follow. His smirk widened. “Better.” A foot abruptly came into sight through the makeshift smokescreen, a few inches from his eyes, granting him enough time to receive a solid hit to the jaw and topple to the ground. Hao Bu instantly rolled to the side of a second blow, and somersaulted a few metres backwards to regain initiative.

Both fighters simultaneously unleashed more conventional chi-blasts. Ryoga’s stronger discharge was nevertheless drilled through by Hao Bu’s far more focused strike. While the latter was once more struck down, the former took comparable damage, as the torrent of pressure relentlessly battered at his abdomen.

Hao Bu wiped some blood from his face, tasting it, still smiling as if invigorated. “Very good insect, very good.” He stood up. “There was a time when you would be beheaded for lese-majesty, but I have some use for you.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You hurt Akane! You hurt Akari!” Ryoga descended upon him, attacking at full pace and power, hundreds of punches at a supersonic speed just short of Ranma’s own, and more than twice the force, somehow defying the constraints of mass and acceleration… thousands. Herb nonchalantly blocked them all. Ryoga didn’t care.

Hao Bu grunted. The exertion was taking a toll. His hands and arms were severely beginning to hurt. His anger flared. (Never invoke the wrath of a dragon!) Most sense of strategy and subtlety removed, he heedlessly struck Ryoga at full speed, landing two blows for every one from his opponent. Unfortunately he couldn’t match the latter’s brawn and endurance. They were locked in a contest of primal fury, mauling each other bloody until one of them would drop broken to the ground crumbling beneath their feet. Hao Bu sneered. “Enough of this! Hiryu Shoten Ha!”

Ryoga was carried off at the centre of a whirlwind. (Akari… I have failed you!) He managed to fire off one last desperate discharge, before losing consciousness.

--

Ryoga was violently slapped numerous times in the face.

“Wake up!”

He looked around. Mint was standing in front of him, with Herb regally observing a few metres behind. There was a sizeable bump on the latter’s head. Perhaps that last strike hadn’t been so futile after all? Somebody was forcibly pushing him down into a kneeling position, and holding his arms behind his back. The grip was too strong even for him to break. It had to be Lime. That made things easier. “Oh! Some women are skinny-dipping in the river!”

“Really?” The grip slackened off. Ryoga quickly stood up and stomped Lime full force on the foot, making him scream and jump around on one leg.

Ryoga grinned. “Sucker!” He was doused with cold water.

Min Te held the struggling piglet in his fist, and cleared his throat for a standardised recital. “Crown Prince Hao Long Bu of the Royal Dragon-Lineage has deigned to bestow a great honour upon you, an inferior non-Musk. He expects gratitude and obedience, not futile and insolent rebellion.”

Hao Bu raised a disapproving eyebrow at the sight of the diminutive black pig. “Pitiful… This won’t do, this won’t do at all. Min Lang Te! Li Mao Me! We are leaving immediately! Pack down those paltry souvenirs our guest seems to cherish so much, and inform him that he is either going to be very co-operative, or I will personally butcher and serve him as dinner to the royal stables. If that fails to catch his attention, simply note that his wretched sense of direction allows us to hold his loved ones at ransom any time we so wish.”

Min Te suspiciously stared into Ryoga’s eyes. “You heard our liege. Are you going to be a bother?”

The piglet sighed and dejectedly shook its head.

Tokyo: ESP (Extranormal Squad Police)

Kumon Ryuu read the sign on the door to the traditional-looking sizeable shrine. What a bother, having to hang around with a bunch of freaks just to use his own legacy.

It had seemed like a clever idea at the time. The Saotomes had a problem with the Yamasen-ken school originally being designed for burglary. So he’d simply enrol at the Police Academy, get some purpose with his life, be admired by all the normal people, and get the freaky transsexual’s permission to use ‘the evil school’ for the opposite thing it was designed for. To redeem the dishonour the latter deemed that Genma had brought to his name. Brilliant! The last part worked without a glitch, but apparently Ryuu “wasn’t precinct detective material”, and was transferred here instead. He had heard weird rumours about it, but hopefully the officers were just ribbing him.

Ryuu reached out to ring the bell for admittance, but was surprised to be intercepted when the gate swung open ahead of him.

A thin thirties-looking woman stood by the doorway. She had the darkened complexion associated with Osaka, and was clad like a Shinto shrine maiden. Not particularly attractive, which would usually make her of very limited interest, but with a calm and motherly, and traditionally dignified, expression that triggered some reminiscence of Saotome Nodoka. She politely bowed. “Welcome. I am Mitsumoto Kiyoko, the warden of this manor. We have been expecting you Mister Kumon. Please come in.”

Ryuu followed Kiyoko up a lengthy set of stairs, long short steps leading them over a 100 metres into the estate, passing a few levels of plateaus, containing attractively pruned small trees, ponds with blowfish, as well as certain other species he didn’t recognise, and gravel courtyards. He was hardly an authority but recognised the tranquil patterns as the work of an experienced Zen-master. What was this place? It certainly had nothing to do with general police work.

They reached the summit. It was more Spartan, with four rather plain-looking buildings evenly encircling a medium-sized Shinto temple, or was it Buddhist, or Christian, or even Hindu? When they moved closer, it seemed to be modified, incorporating ornaments and sculptures from each, as well as several Ryuu didn’t recognise. As they went past the entrance he noticed two rows of men and women, respectively seated in seiza alongside the walls leading away from the entrance, and like Masumi, all clad in traditional Shinto ceremonial garbs. They were collectively meditating, eyes closed, with the tips of their thumbs pressed together like vertical pyramids, and the remaining fingers in horizontal analogues.

A bald man was seated in the centre of the room, mirroring the others, but dressed in wide black trousers and an azure gi-like upper robe loosely patterned after a Shogunate samurai. With traditional short and long daisho tanto and katana blades fastened to his left side by a white cotton belt, both safely contained in unadorned silvery saya scabbards. No ceremonial, but slow, medium-length wakizashi… that might imply a practical or ruthless man. He looked rather young, but his smooth features made it difficult to ascertain a precise age. What truly made him stand out were the strange tattoos and etchings encircling every visible section of his body. Even more remarkably, a large portion of the symbols were of extremely lifelike iron, silver and golden coloration, as if the actual metals had bonded with or replaced his skin, in a vaguely circuitry-reminiscent pattern. His presence had a serene, almost holy, intensity of a nature that Ryuu couldn’t recall encountering before.

Ryuu found briefly himself captivated in a sense of wonder, his firmly enforced, demandingly harsh outlook swept away and forgotten. He shook it off. Leaving openings was dangerous, and not something he could afford.

--

The priest opened his eyes and instantly curled into an upright stance with a relaxed smile on his face. He bowed towards Ryuu. “Muramasa Taikio. I am pleased to make your acquaintance Mister Kumon.”

Ryuu frowned. “Any relation to…”

“Just so. The unholy sword-smith is unfortunately part of my heritage.” Despite the words, he didn’t seem troubled by the admission. He used his right hand to indicate to the left side of his belt. “These blades are part of my legacy, but have been purged and inverted from the path of corruption.”

Ryuu decided to cut to the chase. “Look, I’m supposed to become a police officer. This isn’t exactly my type of environment.”

Taikio’s ever-present sincere, alert and optimistic expression didn’t change in the slightest. “Do you have the patience and interest to listen to a clarification?”

Ryuu shrugged. “It’s not like I’m booked up.”

Taikio gestured towards the floor. “Then please be seated Mister Kumon. I will bring us some hot tea.” He went to the back of the room, bringing two steaming cups as he came back.

Ryuu decided to go along with the suggestion, even if tea likewise ‘wasn’t exactly his type of beverage’ to say the least.

--

Taikio inhaled some energising vapours from the refreshment. “It is a long story but can be rather swiftly summarised. Plainly, my father, Muramasa Hiro, was a particularly affluent individual. He considered himself modern, a man of the world, grasping destiny to unburden him from the past, and the stranglehold of time-honoured hierarchical absolute submission. Sadly it was not to be. Our ancestor had saddled him with additional unforeseen liabilities. Certain exceptionally dark elements, far outside his frame of reference, sought reimbursement or vengeance; I am unaware which, as they didn’t tell. What is relevant is that they considered guilt transferable by blood.”

He paused to sip some tea to clear his throat. “Our family was set upon without warning, bound by vile forces and, excepting my father and myself, were devoured alive before our eyes. I was let be because their thirst was not yet sated. Somebody had to be left to breed further generations. My father since it appealed to their wit to see an elevated man fall so far.” He made another interruption.

(So this poor little rich boy tries to trade sob stories when he still had a well-off father to take care of him? Big deal! I saw both my parents die, and mostly wandered the streets to survive on my own since I was four years old. Whatever.)

--

Taikio continued. “My father was a righteous individual. He could not fathom the horror before his eyes. This was not just. This was not right. This was not fair. Lesser men would have said that this should be accepted. This was the way of the world. This was the nature of life. This was inescapable. This should be ignored, or even adapted and embraced into a personal credo. He did not. He decided to see that it would not be repeated, and to seek preparations to fight the lot forced upon us. This was not an act of arrogance, but of ambition. He well understood his limitations, but decided to at the very least help to hold the darkness at bay within Japanese soil.”

Ryuu was pretty sure he saw where this was going, but decided to put up with it.

--

Taikio put down the now emptied cup and resumed where he left off. “I was only a little over 2 years old at the time, perhaps fortunately as I did not remember much of the incident, and had not yet bred an extremely strong imprinting at the image of my mother. My father sold off his very considerable assets and invested them through several reliable brokers, to set up a foundation. He then brought me along on a very lengthy, and extremely unconventional, global training trip.”

Ryuu barely stifled a yawn. (This is starting to sound familiar.)

“It was not strictly the martial arts of which you are accustomed, but rather focused on spiritual exercises, systems and ceremonies. Nevertheless, I was only one man. My father kept himself busy on the side, brokering deals to permanently finance a new specialised, independent section of the police department, while searching for ways to enlist appropriate human resources and equipment, develop an efficient structure and instruction for specialised competence, and here we are.”

--

Ryuu choose to ask the obvious follow-up. “So what happened to the old man?”

“Nothing fanciful. Natural causes made him pass away from old age shortly after we returned some years back. I helped set the final wheels in motion without him.” Taikio’s bearing had remained unperturbed during the entire monologue.

Ryuu enquired about the second. “So you are the boss around here?”

“No. We have a command structure related to individual expertise and self-contained units, which is adaptable to specialised situations. In a certain areas that position is primarily held by myself, while I am the student or subordinate in others.” Taikio looked gravely at Ryuu. “This is a very young organisation. Our foundation is well bolstered, but we are thus far severely lacking in terms of enforcement. Regrettably, sections amongst regular authorities and bureaucracy have also come to regret our existence, and consider our proactive methods as culturally deviant. Limited efficiency grants them leverage to outlaw our vigilance. If you are everything I have been told, your expertise will be of utmost importance. You will bear a great responsibility. I cannot stress this severely enough.”

Ryuu nodded. He got it. He took all his pledges very seriously.

--

Taikio seemed reassured. “You will of course have to undergo a formal tryout Mister Kumon.” He stood up, drawing forth his still sheathed katana, holding it single-handedly and poised forward. “Come at me when you are ready.”

(Oh, come on! Look at this guy! He basically comes across like as the lovechild of a bodhisattva and a pacifist. He said himself that he just sat and chanted prayers for over 20 years. How the heck am I supposed to avoid killing him?)

Taikio tellingly glanced towards the audience. “We cannot use distanced attacks you understand?”

Ryuu shrugged. “It’s not like I’m allowed to use them yet anyway.”

Taikio’s eyebrows were raised the slightest millimetre. “You are a man of great honour then? I shall indeed be pleased to make your acquaintance.” He closed his eyes with an air of serene awareness.

Ryuu gaped. He wasn’t sure if he was dumbfounded or insulted. “Are you sure about this?”

“Do not be concerned Mister Kumon. This is of personal advancement, not of disadvantage or dishonour.”

“Have it your way.” Ryuu cautiously attacked, probing his opponent’s level to determine how far he could push this.

He needn’t have worried, Taikio effortlessly tipped his blade to the sides, only using his wrist, forearm and minimal force but somehow succeeding in deflecting Ryuu’s ever increasingly fierce assault.

Ryuu finally decided to go all out, barraging Taikio with a flurry of titanium-splitting punches, kicks, grapples and sweeps, successfully pressing him enough to use his full area of movement, but Taikio nevertheless consistently ended up at his initial spot. Ryuu assumed a much closer position and launched himself forwards at a pace too swift to avoid even for somebody twice his speed, risking taking a damaging hit in favour of landing a decisive blow. The latter simply stood unmoving in quiet acceptance. Ryuu struck him dead centre of the face at full force. Taikio didn’t budge an inch. By all logic his nose should have been fractured. Even stranger, Ryuu couldn’t even feel the impact in his fist.

Taikio opened his eyes. He smiled a bit further than usual. “Mister Kumon, you are raw, brash, and have an abundance of presently restrained power, certainly capable of inflicting a greater scale of destruction than any officer on the force. I have the utmost faith that you will serve as a magnificent complement.”

Ryuu frowned. “Complement?”

Taikio looked as attentive and congenial as ever. “Kiyoko did not tell? Once you have successfully graduated, as I am certain that you outstandingly will, I am to be your senior partner.”

Pansuto/Pantyhose Taro was climbing a desolate, secluded and nearly vertical plateau. This had better be worth the effort and sheer monotony. According to his Tibetan contact, or rather a corrupt Chinese-stationed officer with extremely good underworld connections, he was not allowed to simply fly to the top of the mountain. The passage had to be ritualistic, by strictly choosing the most demanding and dangerous passages, without any equipment or protective clothing, just him, the ice, the snow, the hail, the wind, the avalanches, the rockslides, and the yetis. Being forced to make an effort to walk right into, trigger or provoke all of them. Never mind. This was a piece of cake for someone of his talents. Those “divine power-sources” turned out to be useless magnetic shoulder pads garbage, and he wanted power, lots of it. He was going to conquer the world someday, whether literally or figuratively, and then kick his boot so far up the ass of that freak geezer Happosai that he’d be given a name worthy of respect. This half-empty glass was going to get itself shine-polished, and filled to the brim with something much better than water, if it knew what was good for it.

He reached the top. It was empty save a bare-chested, muscular, slightly unshaved and rough-looking middle-aged man of unspecific nationality, clad in combat boots and green-speckled camouflage-style army khakis. He was resting with his back toward a golden-brown cloth sack, arms behind his head, and leisurely smoking a Havana cigar, stuck between a visible, shiny white row of teeth. Beside him there was a very odd-looking backpack, composed of an assortment of layered leather straps with built-in sheaths, and crammed with an assortment of swords, a few blades, a warhammer, a battleaxe, a spear, and a mixture of artillery.

Taro didn’t know what to think. “Are you The Veteran?”

“Guilty as charged kid.” The man had not seemed to register the question, but nonetheless answered it.

“I was supposed to meet you here?” Taro cautiously probed.

“Seeing is believing” Still no visible reaction.

(Am I just going to stand around waiting while making inanely cliched conversation?) Taro was starting to get annoyed. Was this guy supposed to be the mythical champion mystics and assassins alike barely dared to whisper about? He took a deep breath to give this joker a piece of his mind.

“Face front trooper! Incoming!” Something landed with a thud, shaking the stone foundation.

--

A monumental figure stood before them. Over 2 metres tall, and nearly as wide, with cylindrical arms like massive tree trunks, entirely clad in, or consisting of, a jagged, featureless indigo armour with luminous gilded seams along the pivots, no nose, and vapours of sparkling light in the place of mouth, eyes and fingertips. Taro was in awe… or at least until he noticed the pink mini-skirt, the rugby helmet, the roller skates, the oversized “A” belt buckle, and the golden bling-bling neck-chain supporting a medallion with the inscription “Bow before da kang”.

The Veteran calmly pulled out a picnic blanket from the sack and placed it on the ground. Taro sat down beside him but simply gazed at the display. His peripheral vision vaguely registered how a single feather drifted out over the ledge.

The being spoke with a booming voice like the chill from a grave blended with cracks of thunder. “I! AM! ABYSSMIC! I WAS FORGED FROM THE ESSENCE OF WHITE DWARF STARS! MY HEART BEATS WITH THE RHYTHMS OF CAGED SUPERNOVAS! I CHANNEL THE ENERGIES OF A DIMENSIONAL NEXUS! THE PRIMAL FORCES WITHIN MY SHELL ARE UNYIELDING!”

The Veteran merrily unpacked the contents. “Just checking, but you do realise that none of that made any sense right? Guys like us need a little self-distance once in a while.”

“I AM LIKE UNTO A GOD, AND MY WAYS ARE BEYOND MORTAL COMPREHENSION!”

The Veteran enthusiastically chomped down bites from a ham & egg sandwich. “Of course you’d all like to think that.”

“I AM FIRST OF THE SEVEN! PRYMURDAL! PRYMEVYL! PRYMAUL! STARBLYTE! STARBAIN! ZENTROPY! COALESCING SCREAMING INTO BEING AT THE DAWN OF CREATION!”

“No patterned first syllables? Sounds a bit budget-bargain to me.” Chatting between bites.

Abyssmic seemed rather self-conscious, as far as its features allowed. “FATHER YAMBAD AND MOTHER WELLSTAYNE DIDN'T HAVE MUCH IMAGINATION!” It said apologetically.

The Veteran nodded in acknowledgement. “Ah, my Aunt Ethel was like that too. Her poor brats never lived it down.”

Abyssmic paused. “CLUSTROT WAS DISAVOWED! EVEN OUR PARENTS REGRETTED THE NAME! AAND ZENSOURCE WOULDN'T STOP INSISTING THAT KEEPING QUIET WAS THE ONE TRUE PATH TO NIRVANA!”

It wistfully shook its head and recommenced. “I AM IMPERVIOUS TO THE FORCES OF TIME AND SPACE! FOR AGES IMMEMORIAL I HAVE WANDERED THE LONELY WASTES OF INFINITY BETWEEN THE TINY SPECKS OF MATTER!”

The Veteran began eating an apple. “And how is that working out for you?”

“I AM A PRIMORDIAL BEING EVER SEEKING FULFILLMENT IN MY PURPOSE!“

“So basically you’re just bored and need a hobby.”

“I AM LIKE UNTO A TEMPEST! TESTING THE WORTH OF CIVILISATIONS, AND STRENGTHENING THE HERD!”

The Veteran threw away the apple core. “Nah, that’s my job, sort of, and it’s a pretty darned unoriginal rationalisation for genocide. You’ll have to work more on that.”

“MY DESTINY IS WRITTEN IN THE STARS!”

He helped himself to an ample serving of strawberry cake. “Did they tell you? Not very good speakers I hear.”

“I AM A FORCEOF NATURE SERVING UNIVERSAL BALANCE!”

“Mm, this is good.“ The Veteran took another slice, quickly wolfing it down. “Killing people serves a balance? Overpopulation tends to find equilibrium by itself. Basic math really.”

“I AM THE NECESSARY UNKNOWN ALIEN VARIABLE CREATING DISORDER IN A STAGNANT CREATION!”

“Stagnant? There are so many slump-factors around that you wouldn’t believe it. Almost nothing is entirely predictable… excepting yourself o’course.” Munching all the while.

“I AM A UNIQUE SINGULAR BEING DEVOID OF OPPOSITES!”

“No you’re not. Your kind of cheap dialogue is a dime a dozen, and didn’t you say that you enforce balance and disorder at the same time?”

“I CANNOT HELP MY NATURE!”

“Sure you can. You’re self-aware aren’t you, and don’t have any handicaps either I hope? Positive thinking, that’s the key.” He seized the last piece.

“I AM BEYOND JUDGEMENT!”

“Depends on who’s looking doesn’t it?” And swiftly finished it up.

“I AM A CONCEPT BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL!”

The Veteran pulled out a bottle. “It’s called amoral. The schooling these days…” He began to guzzle the brandy.

“I HAVE TRAMPLED ARMIES OF PRODIGIOUS TRANS-BEINGS BENEATH MY FRAME!”

The Veteran burped. “You really need to watch the diet.”

“I HAVE SHATTERED PLANETS WITH MY FISTS!”

He took out another of his choice cigars, igniting it with a down-to-earth lighter. “Now I know that you’re shitting me. A small fellow like you would have to ram it at a substantial amount of the speed of light to accomplish that.”

“I AM A LAW AND COUNSEL UNTO MYSELF! I HAVE HAVE NO AFFILIATION TO YOUR PHYSICS AND CONCEPTIONS!”

“That would explain the angry loner shtick, and the tacky outfit.” He continued to puff away.

“THE DEATH-THROES OF THIS WORLD SHALL STALL THE END FOR ANOTHER CYCLE! ACCEPT THE HONOUR TO SUBMIT YOUR INSIGNIFICANT LIVES FOR THE GREATER GOOD!”

“You’re really into some home-brewed version of the Thugee-Kali-Hindu jig huh? Lemme think about that for a moment…” The Veteran grasped his chin in mock-contemplation. “Hmmm…nah! Your logic is as watertight as ever, meaning you-know-what, but I think we’ll take our chances.”

“MORTAL FLEA, BRING ME THE GREATEST WARRIORS OF THIS WORLD, THAT I MAY CONTEST THEIR MERIT, AND MAKE A WORTHY OFFERING AT THE ALTAR OF DESTRUCTION!”

The Veteran wiped his mouth with a napkin, dusted off his khakis, threw his cigar to the side, and stood up. “Destruction isn’t sentient, and the Universe doesn’t hinge on narrow conceptual segmenting of various processes or ideas, but I guess that would be my cue.”

“YOU? MUHAHAHA! YOU ARE NO MATCH FOR ME! I DETECT ONLY THE SLIGHTEST VARIATIONS BEYOND THE HUMAN NORM! EVEN YOUR COMPANION EXHIBITS NUMEROUS THOUSAND TIMES HIGHER READINGS!”

The Veteran took a traditional British boxing stance. “Life is full of surprises. Stop being a chicken and fight like a man.”

“I CAN EASILY WITHSTAND THE HEAT AND PRESSURE AT THE CORE OF A STAR! NOTHING YOU DO COULD POSSIBLY REGISTER!”

Taro impulsively stood up. “Are you crazy? This guy is no joke!”

The Veteran winked and made a thumbs-up. “You watch.” Thun! The Veteran punched Abyssmic in the gut. The latter doubled over, spewing a stream of fire. “Your kind always loses!” Thun! A strike aimed at the same spot. “Because you forget the most important thing!” Thun! Another gut-punch “I fight for taking liberties!” Thun! He hit Abyssmic in the chin, pushing the being backwards several feet. “I fight for glory!” Thun! This blow landed at the centre of the face. Thun! “I fight for greed!” Thun! “I fight for cynicism!” Thun! “I fight for deviousness!” Thun! “I fight for disregard!” Thun! “I fight for scorn!” Thun “I fight for prejudice!” Thun! “I fight for conflict!” Thun! “I fight for brutality!” Thun! Abyssmic began to waggle. “I can’t loose when everyone believe in me!” A final epic blow toppled the titan to the ground.

He unfastened one of the blades strapped to his side-placed backpack and yanked the dazed creature upright. “Because feeling good always wins!” Abyssmic’s head was sliced straight from its shoulders.

The Veteran immediately seemed to lose interest, picked up his backpack, lighted another cigar, and turned towards Taro. “Now, rookie, I understand that you were looking for some drilling.”

Taro felt the ground tremble underneath his feet, accompanied by a rising rumble. The plateau fractured, buckled and finally crumbled from the strain, as the feather had finally reached the bottom of its descent.

Coming up:

Ryoga is offered a position as Herb's new hobby-project. He doesn't think ”Obey, or everyone you know dies.” sounds like a very enticing proposition. Ryuu gets a job. Someone apparently thought that it was a good idea to put paranormal law enforcement into the hands of anti-authoritarian Shinto Matrix New Age Hackers. Taro enlists for a crash-course in terrorism for dummies, and is adopted by the spirit of glorified murder. Unfortunately, mercenaries don’t wear mascara.