While there have been many heated and enthusiastic debates
concerning the existence and nature of God (at least before the
current arrangement became publicly known), the subject of God's
bedroom has never been of much interest to theologians.  Then,
while Kasumi was the C.E.O. of Reality Inc., the issue was
tactfully sidestepped; partly because it was suspected that
Kasumi never slept, but primarily because thinking of Kasumi and
bedrooms brought up images that were just... wrong.

     Then Jack took over, and absolutely *nobody* was curious as
to what *he* slept in.

     The current Divine Authority didn't need to sleep either,
but she did enjoy a nap every so often.  Particularly after big
meals which, as may be guessed, were a daily occurrence.

     Therefore, God did indeed have a bedroom.  It would best be
described as 'opulent', though not quite as much as one might
think; Lina had started with a monarchy-sized bed, gleaming
marble walls, and (in the adjacent bathroom) a gold plated
toilet, but these had proved to be too big, too bright, and above
all too *cold*.

     So... opulent, but in moderation.  Without going into too
much detail, suffice to say that it was comfortably large,
tastefully well-furnished, and increasingly untidy - Lina's long
years on the road had broken her of the habit of keeping her room
clean, which had never been a very strong urge to begin with. 
She was a teenager, after all, though it was often easy to forget
that fact.

     All in all, it was an ideal place for Lina to be alone,
freshen up, and catch some mental down-time.  Major decisions
would be made and developed there, and perhaps even the fate of
the world would be determined by the current God.

    But at the moment, fresh from a luxurious bubble bath and
wrapped in an oh-so-fluffy pink towel, there was a more immediate
factor to consider.

     Lina turned this way and that, examining herself critically
in the full-length mirror in her room.  "What do you think?" she
asked, frowning slightly.  "I mean, I don't want to go
*completely* Naga, but I'd better do something or that top-heavy
lush will start making fun of me."  She raised her hand in front
of her mouth theatrically.  "OOOOOHOHOHOOO!  So, even with
absolute power, little Lina can't compare with the inflated
headlights of Naga the Overendowed Serpent!"  She dropped the
hand and sighed.  "No, I don't think I want to go through that."

     The room's other occupant, a plush Lina doll, said nothing.

     The life-sized Lina pulled the towel away from her chest a
bit and peered downward.  "I don't want to do this more than
once, though.  I may be... well, God, but I don't like the
thought of fiddling with my shape more than absolutely
necessary."  She cupped her hands in front of her, in the
appropriate position, and moved them forward and back
experimentally.  "Maybe... this?  Or like this?  Or-"

     A faint knock at the door drew her attention.  "Lina-sama? 
It's time."

     "Yeah, yeah."  She peered at her reflection again, then with
a simple thought her clothes materialized around her and the
towel vanished.  She posed a few times more, frowning slightly. 
*On the other hand,* she thought, *do I really want my first
official act as God to be something like that?  Lina Inverse, God
of Breast Enlargement?*

     She opened the door, and was totally unsurprised to see
Shinji Ikari standing outside.  He'd become something of an
errand boy around Heaven - not by any malice on anyone's part of
course, but more because Shinji, despite having stood up to his
father, was still pretty much a doormat as far as everyone else
was concerned.  He was getting better, but he still had a ways to
go.

     Seized by a mischievous impulse, Lina looked at the young
EVA pilot earnestly.  "Shinji, you've been around lots of women,
right?"

     "Uh... I guess."

     "Can I ask you something?"

     "Sure, Lina-sama."

     She leaned toward him in a manner that was intended to be
provocative.  "Do you think my breasts are too small?"

     Shinji blushed, though this was hard to notice since his
personal AT Field snapped into existence around him, tinting his
entire body red.  "Um... do I have to answer that?"

     Lina chuckled.  "Don't worry - I'm just teasing."  She
stopped, and flicked the Field with a fingernail.  "You know,
that gives me an idea...  well, anyway, let's get going.  I guess
I've avoided this for too long now."

     "Yes, ma'am."

                        =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     Once again, the Ultradome.  Once again, loud.  Though not
very much so yet - the first spectators were beginning to filter
in, and the noise was barely noticeable here in the hallways
around the stadium.

     Three heads peered around the corner, just enough so that
their owners could watch a door slightly down the corridor.  It
remained persistently door-shaped, and more importantly closed,
so they pulled back.

     Finally, one member of the trio spoke in a low whisper.  

     "To protect the world from devastation..."

     "To unite all peoples within our nation..."

     "I still t'ink dis is a bad idea." 

     "Quiet, Meowth," Jessie snarled.  "You heard what Jack said
this morning.  If we don't do a certain thing that we haven't
done in a while..."

     "...we'll be thrown out on our ears!" James finished.  "Or
maybe rears.  What else could he have meant but trying to capture
that Pikachu? We haven't done that in ages!"

     "And at last," his partner crowed, patting the complicated
device on the floor next to her, "we have just the right tool to
do it!"

     She pressed a prominent button on the contraption, causing a
hatch to open on the top and a small robot drone to float out,
trailing a line behind it.  They watched as it flew to Pikachu's
dressing room door, opened it silently, and zipped inside.

     "So, how does dis t'ing woik again?"

     Jessie looked at the pokemon scornfully.  "It's perfectly
simple.  Once the drone detects Pikachu's electric field, it'll
latch on, drain the little rat dry, and pull it back here."

     James nodded enthusiastically.  "We're gonna pilfer that
Pikachu, pal, then pawn the pokemon for plenty of pay!"

     "We'll really rake in the rupees when we rope that
ridiculous rodent," Jessie agreed.

     The cable being unrolled from within the box suddenly drew
taut, and a light began to flash as the target's power reserves
were drained.

     James rubbed his hands together.  "It won't be long now!"

     As the light stopped flashing and the cable began to
retract, Meowth watched the process dubiously.  "It ain't gonna
woik, I just know it."

     "Oh, relax," Jessie said soothingly.  "What could go wrong?"

     "That's right!" her partner said supportively.  "After all,
it's not like there'd be anyone else with their own electric
field in there... to... grab..."

     He and Jessie turned to stare at each other just as their
'victim' rounded the corner.

     Suffice to say, it wasn't Pikachu.  Not unless the pokemon
had been on a severe steroid diet, colored himself green and
orange, and had grown really, really large fangs...

     Blanka tossed the crushed drone to the floor and moved
forward while Team Rocket clung to each other in terror.

                      =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     Controversial Jack was unhappy.  Okay, so he gave up his
portion of the godhead.  Since he was still alive to gripe about
it, that was annoying but acceptable.  But the worst part of the
whole thing, the *unthinkable* part, was the betrayal.

     "I can't believe you didn't tell me you had the godhead!"

     *Squeak.*

     "DON'T give me that!  If you were any kind of real friend-"

     *Squeak SQUEAK!*

     "What?!  The hell you are!  *I'm* the brains of this outfit,
and you know it!"

     *Squeak!*

     "Well... I guess, but it was still a pretty lousy thing to
do."

     *Squeak?*

     "Nah, no hard feelings.  I wouldn't break up a friendship
like this over a silly little thing like absolute power and
immortality."

     When he set his waterproof companion back on his shoulder
again, Jack felt whole once more.

     A moment later, he glanced up as his door was kicked in. 
Since this was the usual way people entered his office, he wasn't
terribly impressed.  At least the door was still on its hinges. 
"Yeah, yeah, come in," he said with a yawn.  "Want a bagel? 
Avocado on a stick?  Try some seal jerky, it's really..."

     The lavender-haired figure that entered, dressed in a brown
school uniform, stomped up to his desk and slammed her palms down
on its paper-cluttered top.  "I want Gally," she demanded,
scowling fiercely.

     He smiled up at her, totally unconcerned.  "Y'know, I'd
*heard* rumors about you.  Well, if you want to profess your lust
for her, I won't stop you."

     B-ko straightened up, glaring at him imperiously.  "Dolt!  I
wish to *face* her in *combat*.  They tell me I have to convince
you to 'book' the fight, and that is why I am here."

     "Let me think about that."  There was a pause measurable in
microseconds.  "No.  Bye!"  He began to spin in his chair.  "God,
I LOVE these things!"

     Her hands clenched into fists.  "And why not, pray?"

     "Look, I don't care about the 'dolt' comment.  I've heard
worse.  Hell, I *am* worse.  But if you think you can smash your
way in here and make demands of the Controversial One himself,
you obsessive pedophiliac lesbian bitch queen, then you know
where the door is.  Thanks for droppin' by, though."

     His spinning stopped when the bazooka-like weapon - who
knows *where* she pulled it from - was pointed at his face. 
"Perhaps I did not make myself entirely clear," B-ko grated.  "I
*will* fight Gally.  Do we have an understanding?"

     He leaned back and grinned impudently.  "You won't shoot
me," he said, idly pressing a concealed button with his foot.

     "Oh, no?"

     "Nope.  Number one, if you do, you'll never fight Gally on
Ultra, and that's your only real chance of getting what you want. 
'Cause you don't just want to beat her, do you?  Nah, global
humiliation is more your style.  I can tell; you remind me of...
well, me."

     The bazooka dropped a few inches.  "Perhaps..."

     "And number two, my secretary's standing right behind you."

     "Hah!  That slip of a girl?  You don't think she could
save-"

     Her sentence was cut off as the bazooka was gently but
firmly removed from her grip.  "Ano... Jack-san doesn't like
having big guns pointed at him."  B-ko turned around just in time
to see the 'slip of a girl' bend and twist the weapon into an
unrecognizable shape with her bare hands.

     "B-ko Daitokuji," Jack said with a shirt-eating grin, "meet
Atsuko Natsume."

     "You can call me Nuku Nuku!" the girl with reddish-magenta
hair said cheerfully as she tossed the ruined bazooka onto a pile
of similarly destroyed weapons.

     "She's not as good with paperwork as Kasumi was," Jack
admitted, "but when it comes to weeding out riff-raff like you
(as well as keeping my own personal butt in one piece, or rather
in two pieces as God intended), she does just fine."  He tossed
Nuku Nuku a chicken-flavored cat treat, which she pounced upon
eagerly.

     B-ko stared at the abnormally-strong secretary.  It was
tempting - *very* tempting - to despise Nuku Nuku with all her
heart... but one feud at a time was enough.  Dismissing the
thought, the poor little rich girl turned back to the President
of Ultra Inc.  "I remain undaunted, my dear buffoon," she
informed him sternly.  "I shall not be denied!  No matter what it
takes, I *will* face Gally and utterly destroy her!"

     And Jack... grinned.  "I like you!  Kinda stuffy and nutso,
but that's okay."

     *Squeak.*

     "Great idea, Mr. Duck!"  He looked up at B-ko.  "You want
Gally?  Fine.  But you gotta earn it."

     She peered at the toy duck a moment, then shook her head. 
"Explain."

     "I'll set up a fight between you and someone else," he said,
jotting a note down on a sheet of genuine Sequoia paper.  "If you
win against the fighter I set you up with, your next fight is
with Gally.  Deal?"

     "Very well.  If those are your terms, I accept.  I will face
whomever you chose - they shall fall unconditionally when they
face the heir to the Daitokuji dynasty!"  Then she scowled
fiercely at him.  "But do not think this will spare you from the
vengeance I shall wreak upon you for injuring my darling
Sephiroth like that.  You *shall* pay for that - mark my words."

     After she had stalked off and Nuku Nuku had carted the pile
of guns away, Jack tapped his chin thoughtfully.  "So, who do I
match her with?"

     *Squeak?*

     "Nah, not Sephiroth.  Too obvious."  He grinned suddenly. 
"Yeah.  Oh, yeah!  That sounds like *fun*."

                         =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

                              LIVE!
                       FROM THE ULTRADOME!
                      THE BIGGEST SPECTACLE
                     IN ANIME AND VIDEO GAME
                      SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT
                         AND IMPROFANFIC!
                         IT'S TIME FOR...

         { M A G I C A L  T R O U B L E S H O O T I N G }
         {      C R O S S O V E R  F I G H T I N G      }
         {             F E D E R A T I O N              }
         {                .-----------.                 }
         {                | U-L-T-R-A |                 }
         {                `-----------'                 }
         {          http://www.improfanfic.com          }

                  Episode 32: Millennium Mayhem!
                Episode written by Brian Stricklin
                 MTCFF Ultra concept by Twoflower

                         =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     The Ultradome was now filled, by people primed and ready
after the searing action of UltraRage Gamma.  Signs waved among
the faithful: "Two words for ya: DRAGU SLAVE!"  "Dan's the Man!" 
"Hey, look!  The title's fixed!"

     As Hiroshi and Daisuke appeared at the top of the entrance
ramp, they were greeted by almost as big a cheer as any of the
competitors would get.  The pale-haired clone basked in the
adulation, while his partner just rolled his eyes.

     "Do you hear that, Dai?" Hiroshi waved to the crowd, which
returned the gesture enthusiastically.  "We're celebrities! 
We're popular!  My Lina in Heaven, PEOPLE KNOW who we ARE!"

     "I have to admit, it's better than being just one of the
crowd like we were at Furinkan," Daisuke agreed.  "However,
unless you want to challenge for the Hardcore belt again, I'd
suggest we get to our table."

     "A-heh.  Good plan."

     After they took their standard positions and donned their
headphones, a nearby stagehand gave them a familiar signal.  Not
that they needed it - when the stadium lights dimmed and the main
speakers switched on, they knew what was coming.

     "Are you ready for a bit of the old... Ultra-Violence?"

     The noise of the crowd, already at intense levels, was
cranked up several notches as the theme music began.  Taking a
deep breath, Hiroshi reached for his microphone... then stopped
and looked at his partner.  "Can I say it, Daisuke?  Please?"

     "Say wha... no!"

     "Aw, c'mon."

     "Absolutely not.  We're already getting sued because of
Ranma's choice in music.  It's lucky that Foley was a cool guy
about the whole Kindman thing, but..."

     "C'mon, just once.  Just to say I did it."

     "No."

     "I'll be your best friend."

     "You already *are* my best friend."

     "Oh.  Right.  Then... you should let me do it, since you're
my friend and all."

     Daisuke sighed.  "Fine.  Have it your way.  But don't come
crying to me when we get another lawsuit slapped on us."

     "It'll be fine," Hiroshi reassured him.  He then jumped up
onto the table, microphone in hand.  "CUT THE MUSIC!"  The Ultra
title song stuttered to a stop, and the audience gazed down at
the frenzied announcer.  "Lllllladies and gentlemen, boys and
girls!  Otaku of all ages!  Controversial Jack proudly brings to
you the one and only,"  he threw his head back, "GREATEST SHOW in
the WOOOOOOOOOOORLD!  With the Clone Dogg Hiroshi!  And Bored Ass
Daisuke!  And *this*... *is*... *ULTRA*!"

     Daisuke's comment about Barnum and Bailey's Circus being the
Greatest Show on Earth was completely drowned out by the endless
wave of noise generated by the crowd's cheering.

     "And we're coming to you LIVE from the Ultradome!  That's
right, we're back from Manhattan after a literally *historic*
match at UltraRage Gamma!"

     "And thanks to the This Old Dojo crew," Daisuke added,
"Madison Square Gardens - not to mention a large percentage of
New York City itself - has been rebuilt in record time.  Sorry
about all that, folks."

     "Anyway," Hiroshi continued, sitting back down and darting a
glare at his partner, "since it's December 31st, the LAST day of
the year, century, AND millennium, we've got an especially
exciting show lined up for you tonight!  We've got a stupendous
array of athletes ready to give you violence, action, and world-
class insanity!"

     "In other words, the same stuff as usual."

     The rousing call of 'WORK WITH HIM, DAISUKE!' thundered
across the dome.

     Daisuke stood up and peered at the audience.  "Am I the only
one who thinks this whole thing is getting predictable?"

     'YES!'

     He shrugged and sat back down.  "Had to ask."

     "Before we start the show," Hiroshi interjected, "we've got
to go to a quick commercial, but when we come back I've been told
that our brand new God - that's Lina Inverse, for those who
haven't been able to keep track - wants to say a few words, to
sort of introduce herself in her new position."

     "That's right, Hiroshi.  So stay with us, folks - the
supposedly non-repetitive action will start in just a few
minutes."

                         =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     Lina was glad she was used to walking long distances.  She
and her guides must have visited every corridor and stairway in
the massive building that housed the Yggdrasil Reality Computer.

     Though of course she'd been in Heaven for the past few
months, most of that had been while she was dead rather than
deified, and she hadn't bothered exploring a whole lot.  It came
as a big surprise, therefore, to find out just how much was
involved in the proper maintenance and supervision of the
universe.  There were an uncountable number of angels (the
wings-and-halo kind, not the city-destroying kind) floating
around behind the scenes, and most of those were assigned to desk
jobs.  Which was fine by her, as long as she didn't have to do
much paperwork herself.

     The three System Administrators for Yggdrasil, however, made
her a bit uneasy.  She becomes God, and who does she end up with
as assistants?  Naga, Amelia, and an ubernice version of
Sylphiel.

     It didn't help matters when Lina, curious by nature, fiddled
with a dial or two and accidentally set the value of pi to -7. 
It was easily fixed, but Skuld sulked at her for a while after
that.

     Finally, the interminable tour was drawing to a close, and
Lina had been briefed on every minute aspect of Yggdrasil's
operation.  While she found she *could* remember it all - she
didn't really want full omniscience, but eidetic memory was
pretty useful - she was getting a major headache.  Quite apart
from anything else, technology just wasn't her thing.  Even the
Gizmoes of the Gods.

     "All right, fine, I get it," she interrupted, her patience
finally wearing out.  "Tab A goes into slot B.  Wonderful.  How
much of this am I actually going to have to deal with?"

     "Oh, hardly any," Belldandy said with a pleasant smile. 
"It's all mostly self-regulating, and we usually take care of any
problems."

     Lina gaped at her.  "Then WHY did I have to go through that
whole boring tour?"

     "It's part of the standard orientation for new Gods."

     "Kasumi was a much better sport about it," Skuld muttered
accusingly.

     God rubbed her forehead.  "Swell.  Anyway, I'll leave it to
you three, then.  Right now, I've got a show to liven up. 
Later!"

     After Lina had left for Earth (with a certain amount of
effort; she hadn't quite gotten the hang of translocation yet)
the three Goddesses exchanged glances, and the phrase 'Better her
than Jack' was unspoken but nevertheless understood.

                         =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     When Lina appeared at the top of the entrance ramp, she was
almost forced back by the noise of the crowd.  Walking in from
the wings was one thing; appearing right in the middle of it all
was quite another.  But she rallied and managed a cheery wave,
which only served to throw fuel on the fire.

     "There she is," Hiroshi shouted into his microphone, "the
one who saved all of humanity from the Orochi, mazoku-slayer
extra ordinaire, your God and mine... LINA INVERSE!"

     Lina trotted down toward the ring amidst massive cries of
approval.  About halfway there she realized she didn't need to
walk, and without so much as a Raywing she took to the air,
clearing the ropes and landing gently in the center of the
squared circle.  As the cheers began to die down, she waved her
hand and a microphone appeared in it.

     "Thank you, thank you everybody."  She looked out over the
crowd, realizing that all these people - not to mention the
millions upon millions across the planet - were now *her*
responsibility.  Briefly, Lina wondered (and not for the first
time) how Kasumi had been able to cope with it, because it was a
damn hefty burden on her *own* shoulders.

     With a mental shrug, she began.  "First of all, I want to
thank everyone for... *believing* in me when it mattered the
most.  I literally couldn't have done it without all of you
giving me your support, and if you hadn't... well, we wouldn't be
standing here right now.  Any of us.  So... thank you.

     "Now, I never really planned on being God.  All I was
interested in at Gamma was kicking the Orochi's butt.  I'm no
saint, and I sure as hell am no Kasumi.  But I promise you this -
as long as I have the godhead, I'm going to do my damnedest to do
the right thing.  And that includes keeping it away from lowlifes
like Xelloss."  She waved at the camera.  "Hope you've got your
insurance paid up, Secret-Boy!  The whole world owes you a
bitch-slap, and I'm just the one who's going to deliver it."

     The Ultradome had been destroyed on several previous
occasions, but this was the first time the noise of the crowd
threatened to do the same.

     Lina waited for the cheers to subside once more, a big grin
plastered on her face, then raised the microphone again.  "I know
what a lot of you are thinking right now.  'Hey, Lina's the Lord
Almighty now.  Is she still going to be in Ultra?'  Well, I'll
tell you something.  When you're God, that little strip of
plastic and gold known as the title belt doesn't hold nearly as
much attraction as it used to.  So, unless I really feel like it,
I'm not going to initiate any fights."

     There were many disappointed murmurs.

     "On the other hand, if anyone wants to test their skill
against someone with *real* power, I won't say no.  If someone
wants to challenge me, that's just fine.  I could always use the
exercise.  And, no, it won't be a 'winner gets the godhead'
match.  I mean, let's not get stupid here."

     "Wow!" Hiroshi gushed.  "It's a standing challenge from God
herself!  Will anyone take her up on her offer?  Is any fighter
brave enough to face Lina Inverse backed by nearly-ultimate
power?"

     "Will my partner ever shut up so God can finish talking?" 
Daisuke inquired.

     "Um... yes."

     In the ring, Lina raised an index finger.  "Now, there's one
last thing before we start the violence.  Just a little miracle I
cooked up, as a gift to Ultra.  And to demonstrate it, I need a
volunteer."  She turned toward the entrance ramp.  "Gourry! 
Gourry, come out here, please."

     After a few moments, the tall blonde warrior poked his head
out from the wings, pointing at himself questioningly.

     "Yes, you.  Would you be a dear and just come down here for
a few moments, pretty please?"

     The false sincerity in Lina's voice must have penetrated
even Gourry's perpetually-fogged brain, and he vigorously shook
his head.

     "No?  Okay, then I guess I get to keep... THIS!"  A sword -
or, rather, *part* of a sword - appeared in Lina's hand.  A
moment later, a blade of pure light flashed into existence.

     As Gourry sighed in resignation and made his way to the
ring, Lina turned to the audience again.  "Now, Ultra's gone on
for a while now, and it's seen its share of brutal action and
dirty tricks.  Which is fine - even I have been known to indulge
in a little needless violence once in a blue moon."

     The crowd spoke with one voice:  'NO, REALLY?'

     "SHUT UP!  Ahem.  There is one particular tactic, though,
that I think has won too many matches so far.  So, I've done
something about that."  Gourry, after becoming briefly tangled in
the ropes, had made it to her side, and she smiled sweetly at
him.  "Gourry, would you do me a favor?"  Nod, nod.  "Just
compare me to... Pamela Anderson."  She handed him the
microphone.

     "Uh... okay.  Well, let's see.  You're shorter than she is,
that's for sure."  Lina nodded.  "Um, you've got red hair, and
she doesn't."  Nod.  "You both show up on TV a lot."  Encouraging
nod.  "I don't *think* she knows much magic, but I don't know for
sure..."

     Lina pulled the mike closer to her for a moment.  "Anything
else?"

     He scratched his head.  "Gee, Lina.  Apart from the fact
that your chest looks like an ironing board compared to hers, I
don't know what-"

     "You JERK!"  The Holy Boot of Lina rose swiftly and
accurately before Gourry could react, and the male portion of the
audience twinged in sympathy...

     Then, an inch or two before impact, Lina's foot was stopped
by a red hexagonal force field.

     "Thank you, Gourry," she said, taking the mike and pressing
the Hikari no Ken into his stunned, unresisting hand.  "Ladies
and gentlemen, the Anti-Groin Shot Absolute Terror Field. 
This'll protect our fighters during matches, even for Omega
matches out 'in the field'.  It's just my way of saying... 'It's
been DONE, okay?'"

     The cheer that arose wasn't as loud as some of the previous
ones, but it was notable in that it was considerably lower in
pitch.

     Lina grinned and looked around once more.  "Well, that's
about it for me.  Let the carnage begin!"  With that she
vanished, leaving a still-unrecovered Gourry in the middle of the
ring.

                           =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     Deep within his dark and evil cave, Akuma was bored out of
his mind.

     Okay, so it was his dressing room.  But it was a dark and
evil dressing room.

     He hadn't had a decent fight in ages.  All of the matches
he'd been in recently were, one way or another, over before they
began.  Perhaps a battle against MewTwo or the newly-crowned God
would bring some satisfaction, but he rather doubted it.  Neither
were proper warriors - fighting them would do nothing to test his
skills.

     This was not acceptable.  He'd come to Ultra to find a
worthy opponent, and the only truly enjoyable fight he'd found
was against the alien, Son Goku.  Even then, Akuma was
intelligent enough to know when he was outclassed - he would need
to improve before attacking the Saiyajin again.

     He absently poked at a merchandising sample that some
company had sent him ("UltraRage Akuma, with Real Instant Hell
Murder Action!"), then, since bored people go to great lengths,
grabbed a Bison action figure from under his bed and re-enacted
their last fight.  This time, of course, Akuma's moves were much
more cool and powerful than in the real thing.

     Pow, bam, thunk, thud...

     ("You were much more fun than your Cyber-Akuma clone 
self, you know.")

     Akuma paused as the memory returned to him.

     ("...you know who made that... abomination?"

     ("Yes, I do.  And I know that's why you came.  For revenge
on its maker.  The one who made that Cyber-Akuma, and all the
other previous deviations of you that you've grown to detest. 
But her name will escape you, because I'm afraid it's time to
die.")

     Akuma's fists clenched, crushing the Bison doll (though he
carefully set his own replica back on the table).

     He had a Purpose.


                      =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     "And now," Hiroshi shouted, "for our first event of the
evening, we'll start with a high-intensity Gamma match-up!"

     "You mean mismatch," Daisuke pointed out.  "This'll be a
massacre."

     "C'mon, Dai, this is Ultra!  You never know what's going to
happen!"

     "Maybe *you* don't... anyway, our first competitor was the
first Gamma title holder, and still seeks to reclaim the belt. 
Here he is: Ranma Saotome."

     There was no music.  There was no video flashing on the
ControversialTron.  There was just Ranma, jogging out of the
wings with no preamble and jumping into the ring amidst the
crowd's jeers.

     He did, however, have a microphone in his hand.  "SHUT UP!" 
The catcalls subsided, but as it turned out, this wouldn't last
long.  "God, you people make me sick.  You think I'm going to
stroll down the ramp for your enjoyment while you listen to some
crappy song or another?  Well, think again, you brainless marks! 
I'm here to WIN, not to put on a show for a bunch of bloodthirsty
losers!  *SHUT UP!*  That's the difference between me and the
rest of these morons - I'm the only one that's actually here to
FIGHT.  I'm the only *real* martial artist in Ultra.  And once I
prove that by willing the belt again, you'll all see that I'm the
best thing that ever happened to this damn show."

     With that, Ranma tossed the microphone aside and turned to
glare at the entrance ramp, waiting.

     "Looks like Ranma's still not a happy camper," Hiroshi
commented.

     Daisuke rolled his eyes.  "Gee, ya think?"

     "At any rate, here's his opponent, a man who has a job and
knows how to do it, Mr. Hollywood himself, JOHNNY CAAAAAAAGE!"

     As he strolled out of the wings with microphone in hand,
music blaring around him, Johnny Cage was almost a welcome sight
to the crowd.  He sucked, but at least he didn't insult the
audience.  At least, not recently.

     Sparing a quick glare at Hiroshi for the 'job' comment, he
turned his attention to Ranma.  This, he knew, was his big
chance.  If he could beat an opponent that the audience obviously
hated (even more than they hated Johnny), then they'd finally
come to accept him, and he wouldn't be at the bottom of the
pecking order any more!

     He needed to be cool, though.  With a confident smirk at his
opponent, he began to pace slowly at the top of the ramp.  "You
know, Ranma," he said in a smooth, egotistical voice, "you think
you're allllll that, don't you?  You think you can just come in
here, insult this... *fine* group of people, and walk away with
the win.  Is that it?  Well, let me tell you - it takes more
than-"

     The world never found out what it takes more than, because
by that time Ranma had left the ring and run up the ramp; when
the actor finally looked up, he was treated to a close view of
Ranma's fist.

     The bell rang.

                           =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

][ GAMMA MATCH - RANMA SAOTOME vs. JOHNNY CAGE
][ FIGHT!

     "OH, MY LINA!" Hiroshi shouted.  "Ranma has launched a
surprise attack on Cage!  What a shocking development!"

     "Well, Ranma *did* say that he was there to win," Daisuke
remarked, watching as Saotome performed a complicated throw that
slammed Cage face-first into the steel barricade lining the ramp. 
"Though if he keeps this up, he'll end up losing."

     "What do you mean?"

     "It usually doesn't come into play, but one of Ultra's rules
is that knockouts outside of the ring are immediate
disqualifications."

     "Oh, yeah."

     "That ain't gonna happen," Ranma shouted between punches. 
"I know what I'm doin'!"  Johnny had managed to gather his wits
about him, but his counterattack had little effect - Ranma was
just too fast to be hit by the rather dazed actor.

     "There's also the little matter of a ten-count timer,"
Daisuke drawled.  "Whatever Ranma's planning, he'd better do it
soon."

     And he did.  Without even bothering to yell 'Tenshin
Amaguriken', the heir to Anything-Goes Martial Arts launched a
blizzard of punches, all centered on Cage's nose.  When Ranma
finally eased up, Johnny was still standing; he was stunned, and
blood streamed from his obviously broken proboscis, but he was
just barely conscious.

     Then, just as the referee reached a count of eight, Ranma
grabbed his opponent and hurled him toward the ring with
impressive accuracy.  Cage flew screaming through the air until
his progress was halted by the metal turnbuckle.  The fact that
he collided with it head-first didn't help matters, and Johnny
fell to the canvas - inside the ring, yet completely 'out of it'.

     Ranma had already left the area, not even waiting for the
official bell.

     "GREAT GOOGLY-MOOGLY!  Ranma just absolutely MANGLED Cage! 
Someone get the paramedics out here!"

     Daisuke, out of respect for Johnny's bloodied and broken
frame, resisted the temptation to say 'I told you so'.  "Well, it
looks like the win goes to Ranma.  The former champion seems
totally focused on the belt now."

     "Yes, but at what cost, ladies and gentlemen?  AT WHAT
COST?!"

     His partner just shook his head.  "Let's go to a commercial. 
I think you need a time-out, young man."

     Hiroshi shuffled his feet.  "...sorry."

                             =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     Controversial Jack stood facing the window of his office,
which (not coincidentally) was placed to give him an excellent
view into the women's shower room.  His hands were clasped behind
his back, and Mr. Duck was perched on his desk, glaring at his
'guests' in as vicious a manner as a rubber toy can manage.

     "When I said to do something you haven't done in a while," 
Jack began, "I meant for you to actually  *fight* in a *match*." 
He turned around and gazed sternly at the battered and bruised
forms of Team Rocket.  "Could you explain why you decided to try
to kidnap one of my biggest stars, who's ten times more popular
than you'll ever be?"

     Jessie and James glanced at each other; Meowth had been
excused from the meeting, and was currently in the lap of luxury. 
More to the point, he was currently in the lap of Nuku Nuku,
which is an envious position for anyone to be in, man or pokemon.

     "Well," Jessie began hesitantly, "the thing is..."

     "...after chasing it for so long..." James continued.

     "...capturing Pikachu is just what we do," they finished in
unison.

     With a fierce scowl and totally without warning, Jack drew a
large trout from a handy umbrella stand and smacked Team Rocket
around a little.  "You two are *pathetic*!  And I had such high
hopes for you, too.  I brought you to Ultra and gave you the
ULTIMATE pokemon, one that's supposed to be even better than that
psychic weirdo MewTwo, and what have you done with it so far? 
Oh, you've won a match here and there, but what have you *done*? 
I was hoping you'd at least follow my lead and pull off a few
pranks of your own, but you can't even catch one stupid yellow
furball!"

     "But you just said you didn't want us to-"

     "Silence when you're speaking to me!"  He turned back to the
window - the shower room was mostly empty except for Morrigan,
who knew about the window but was a naughty little exhibitionist
so didn't mind.  "I guess I might as well tell you; Sex and
Violence is finished.  Done.  Chucked down the toilet and joined
the freakin' Choir Invisible.  Hell, it's falling apart anyway -
might as well go out on my terms."

     Team Rocket gasped.  "You can't mean that, Boss!" James
pleaded.

     "Of course I mean it!  Johnny and Sofia are long gone,
Lilith quit, Marlo's turned out to be little more than a twerp
with a gimmick, and you two are just incompetent."  Down below,
the succubus treated him to a wink and a fanservice pose.  "I'll
keep Morrigan around," he decided, "as an enforcer, and the
Samurai would probably fit into that role pretty well..."  He
spun around again.  "But you... Give me ONE good reason why I
shouldn't fire you from Ultra altogether?"

     Jessie and James looked at each other again, then shrugged
and spoke in unison, "Give me ONE good reason-"

     *Thwap!*  Jack slung the fish over his shoulder again.  "And
don't think an 'Airplane' reference is going to save you."

     Team Rocket then did what they did best:  grovel.  "Please,
give us one last chance, Boss!" James whined.

     "We can pull our own weight - you'll see!"

     Jack shook his head.  "All right.  Fine.  You can stay, but
keep in mind that I've got my eye on you.  If you don't start
matching up to my standards, well... I'll just have to turn the
matter over to Mr. Duck.  And I think you *both* know what that
means."

     Team Rocket paled and fled the scene, dragging a protesting
Meowth behind them.

     In his office, Jack returned his attention to the window
just in time to see Yohko enter the shower room and begin to
strip.  The demon hunter hadn't noticed the demoness yet; the
Controversial One smiled, knowing that the meeting of two
archenemies in a state of undress would result in a catfight,
gratuitous lesbian sex, or a combination of the two.  Either way,
it would be fun to watch.

                       =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     Kasumi Tendo, formerly God and now quite happily not, paused
at the door before knocking.

     This was something that she'd put off as long as she could,
but was nevertheless necessary.  In retrospect, that statement
could be said about most of her Divine duties - she'd done what
needed to be done, no matter how distasteful she felt it to be.

     But this was different.  This was personal.

     It had been good to come back home.  Despite the large
amount of what others would call insanity, there was something
unchanging about the place; her father and Saotome-san played
shogi all hours of the day, Ryouga passed through every so often
looking for Ranma, and even Happosai could be seen being chased
by a crowd of irate women, though lately young Moroboshi tagged
along with him.  Yes, things were back to normal.  Almost.

     The large pile of Ultra merchandise she'd found in the trash
a few days ago had been her final clue that she'd left this for
too long.  It was time to do something, or her own plans would
likely fall apart... and if they did, she'd have nobody to blame
but herself.

     She took a deep breath, then knocked.  The duck-shaped
nameplate vibrated gently.

     "Akane?  Akane, can I come in?"

     There was no answer, and Kasumi became even more worried. 
Akane was in there, she knew, but she'd possibly gone beyond her
usual temper into much deeper currents beyond.  "Akane, please. 
We need to talk."

     Another long pause followed, then the door opened a
fraction, but no further;  Kasumi took this as her cue and nudged
it open the rest of the way.  The room beyond was darkened,
undoubtedly to fit its occupant's mood, and the youngest Tendo
was barely visible in the gloom, lying on her bed.

     Kasumi gently closed the door behind her, then struggled for
words.  "Akane, I... I'm sorry that..."

     "You knew."

     It was a statement, not a question, yet Kasumi knew she had
to answer.  "Yes."

     "You knew before Ultra even started that Ranma would turn
into a, a schoolyard bully."  Akane's voice was heavy and dull.

     "Yes.  I did."

     "Why, then?"

     Kasumi sighed.  "I can't tell you."

     "Don't GIVE me that!"  Akane sat up, and Kasumi realized
that this was one of the few occasions where her sister's anger
was directed at her.  "Kasumi, this is all wrong!  Ranma's always
been a jerk, but even *he* was never this bad!  What gives you
the right to change him like that?  And don't you *dare* tell me
that being God gave you that right."

     "You know I wouldn't say that."  Kasumi looked down at her
hands.  "I know you're upset, Akane.  You have every right to be,
and if I could make this at all easier on you, I would... but
when I say I can't tell you, I mean I *really* can't.  Because I
don't know."

     Akane blinked in surprise.  "Huh?"

     "I... gave up a lot, when I 'came home'.  One of the things
I gave up was knowing as much as I did."  She turned and looked
out the window, staring at the glittering stars above.  "You
don't know what it was like.  I knew everything, Akane.
*Everything*.  A human mind can't cope with that, not and still
be human.  When I surrendered the godhead, I lost all my
knowledge of the universe... and of the future.  I can only tell
you that I think I had a good reason for doing it, but I can't
get any more specific than that."

     There was no response, and eventually Kasumi turned to
leave; as she opened the door, however, a slight intake of breath
made her pause.  "Kasumi, do... do you really think he'll... come
back to us?"

     The eldest Tendo sister managed a cheerful smile.  "I can't
say for sure, but... I trust my judgement."  There was a pause. 
"I hope you can find it in your heart to trust me, too."

     She closed the door behind her, then took a few steps and
peeked into the adjacent room.  Within, Nabiki was sitting in
bed, her back propped against the headboard and a laptop computer
close at hand.  As Kasumi appeared she glanced up, looking a bit
wary.

     "Nabiki, I-"

     "Don't you start," the middle sister interrupted.  "I take
no responsibility for Ranma.  So what if I nudged him a little? 
He went into it with his eyes open - you can't blame me for
anything.  It's not my fault if he..."

     Nabiki's denial of culpability trailed off in the face of
Kasumi's pleasant yet puzzled expression.  "I need your dirty
dishes," she explained.  "And we'll be having sukiyaki for
dinner."

     Embarrassed and feeling a bit guilty, Nabiki handed a couple
of glasses to the fallen God, who returned to the kitchen as if
nothing was wrong.

     It *wasn't* her fault, though.  Ranma never really listened
to anyone but himself.  Everyone knew that.  No, the whole 'Ranma
in Ultra' thing had been doomed from the beginning.

     And yet... words filtered back to her, from a time not that
long ago at all.

     ("If I can't make my sister happy, what good is all this
power?"

     ("So are you going to get rid of Ranma, to make your other
sister happy?"


     ("Oh no, Akane doesn't want Ranma to go away.  Don't worry,
I've got plans for them too.")

     Nabiki shifted uncomfortably on the bed. *The best-laid
plans of mice and men... and maybe Gods, too, sometimes.*

                       =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     "And we're back!" Hiroshi announced for the benefit of those
who hadn't noticed.  "Next up on the card is a Hardcore challenge
match; Marlo Semaj, who one the title belt in an unbelievable
flaming cage ladder belt... uh... ladder dual caging flame...
err...  Some help here, Dai?"

     His partner cleared his throat.  "Marlo fought Wolverine and
Lilith.  Marlo won.  With an assist from Rei Ayanami, I might
add."  Daisuke ignored the muttering next to him.  "We have yet
to be told who the challenger is, but it's a safe bet that it'll
be one of his previous opponents, unhappy about the illegal help
he got during Gamma."

     Without warning, the Y2Marlo countdown appeared on the
ControversialTron, and after the traditional pyrotechnics, The
Furniture Master himself sauntered out from the wings, bearing a
microphone stand, the Hardcore belt slung over his shoulder, and
grinning his trademark psychotic grin.

     Daisuke glanced to the side when he heard a relieved sigh. 
"Glad that Rei's not on his arm?"

     "Uh... why should I care?  I don't.  Not at all.  Really."

     "Yeah, sure you don't."

     Marlo basked in the jeers of the crowd for a moment, then
lifted the mike.  "Aw, boo hoo!  Do the ugly puppy and the
batgirl think I don't deserve this belt?  Well, I got two words
for ya: I DON'T CARE!"

     Daisuke opened his mouth, then decided not to bother.

     "If you two little freaks don't want me to have this, you
know what you gotta do."  He began to saunter down to the ring. 
"But, ya see, this is the end of the year.  And I... am Y2Marlo. 
I *am*... the Hardcore Champion of the Twentieth Century.  And
once I walk out of here with this nice shiny belt around my
waist, you will never... E-HE-HEEEVER... be able to take that
away from me."  With that, he started to climb into the ring...
then paused and looked at the announcer's table.  "Oh, and
Hiroshi?  Your EX-girlfriend's got good taste in men... at least,
she does *now*."

     As Hiroshi fumed and raged, the Hardcore champ tossed the
mike back into FurnitureSpace and stepped through the ropes.  
"Marlo's as overconfident as ever, I see," Daisuke noted.

     "Yeah, well, he's just lucky I don't do matches anymore,"
his partner groused.

     "You can still challenge him if you really want to, you
know."

     "Uh... gee, I would, but my trick knee's been acting up."

     "Uh-huh."

     "Hiro-kuuuuuuun!"

     The announcers looked up in surprise to see a stream of bats
flying out from the, ahem, wings.  They circled the stadium a few
times, swarmed around Marlo for a moment (just long enough to
annoy him), then gathered together at the table and formed into
everyone's favorite chibi-succubus.  "Don't you listen to psycho-
boy over there.  That little floozy has *horrible* taste in men,
if she dumped you for Marlo."  She glomped onto him.  "But don't
worry - I'm here to make you feel alllllll better."

     "L-Lilith!  A-heh.  Hi."

     She pulled back and smiled at him seductively, gazing deep
into his eyes.  "I liked your introduction, Hiro-kun."  She spun
around on the table, presenting him with her posterior.  "Does
that mean you like to do it 'daw-gee-style'?"

     Hiroshi loosened his collar desperately.  "Uh... er... so,
Lilith, I guess you're challenging Marlo?"

     "Nah, I'm not in the mood to kick his butt this week." 
Flapping her wings briefly, she insinuated herself onto Hiroshi's
lap.  "But who else would I spend New Year's with than the
sweetest, most lovable guy in the whole WORLD?"

     "And since Doctor Tofu is still in an emotional coma,"
Daisuke interjected, "you decided to visit Hiroshi."  Lilith
smacked him with a wing.

     "Well, I'm, uh, glad you're here," Hiroshi stuttered, not
that he was at all worried about Rei seeing this, "but if you
didn't make the challenge, who did?"

     As if on cue (which, actually, it was), a huge gout of flame
leapt from the ControversialTron's archway, billowing toward the
ring and very nearly singing Marlo's eyebrows before dissipating. 
A few moments later, a large shape moved out from the wings,
still cloaked in darkness.  It extended its arms and slowly
raised them... and two pillars of flame rose from concealed jets
in the floor, revealing the challenger.

     Hiroshi couldn't believe his eyes - nor, judging from the
massive burst of cheers, could the audience.  "Good Lina, it's a
pokemon!"

     "Charizard, to be precise," Daisuke commented; meanwhile,
the large dragon-like lizard stood glaring at the ring, its claws
bathed in the artificial flame but totally unharmed.  "And, if
I'm not mistaken, it belongs to our own Ash Ketchum."

     "So, where is he?"

     "I don't know, but the rumors I've heard of his inability to
control Charizard might be an explanation."

     Indeed, the fire pokemon seemed totally unconcerned at the
absence of its trainer as it locked gazes with Marlo.  It raised
an arm and pointed one talon at the Hardcore Champion, then
cocked a thumb at itself.

     "Well, that settles it!" Hiroshi tried to jump to his feet,
but the presence of Lilith on his lap prevented that.  "The
challenge has been made - Charizard wants the Hardcore belt!"

     "Are you NUTS?" Marlo shouted at him.  "I'm not fightin'
some freakin' Barney ripoff!"

     "That's your call," Daisuke told the Furniture Warlord, "but
*anyone* can challenge in Hardcore.  If you don't fight, you lose
by forfeit."

     Back at the ramp, Charizard had begun its slow advance to
the ring, ignoring its ability to fly in favor of showmanship as
bursts of fire rose up beside it with each step. (Once the
pokemon had made its wishes clear, the special effects
technicians were all too happy to oblige so it wouldn't burn
their faces off, please.)

     Realizing that he didn't have a choice in the matter, Marlo
faced his opponent defiantly.  "Marlo ain't backin' down from no
two-bit flamethrower with an attitude," he growled, pulling a
tattered blue sofa from Furniture space and wielding it with both
hands.  "Let's mambo."

     Charizard smirked at him then, with a single flap of its
wings, launched itself into the ring.

                           =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

][ HARDCORE MATCH - MARLO SEMAJ vs. CHARIZARD
][ FIGHT!

     "Come on, ya ugly reject from a Godzilla movie!"  Marlo
waved the sofa as he advanced.  "Let's see how ya do against-"

     *WHOOOMPH!*  A wide burst of fiery breath incinerated the
sofa, leaving the Hardcore Champ holding little more than a
couple of charred sticks.

     "Saw that one coming," Daisuke murmured.

     This event did little to deter Marlo, who pulled an antique
mahogany bookcase into view.  A few moments later, this too was
reduced to ashes.

     "Kick his butt, Char-kun!" Lilith shouted encouragingly.

     While the pokemon made 'come and get it' motions with its
foreclaws, Marlo took a moment to consider strategy.  What could
he summon that wouldn't burn?

     A metal filing cabinet appeared in his grasp.  "Let's see ya
torch *this*!" he shouted as he rushed forward.

     "What a brilliant maneuver by Marlo!"  Hiroshi was
enthusiastic, until his lap ornament poked him in the ribs.  "Oh,
yeah... I hate him, don't I?"

     "It would have been even more brilliant..." his friend
commented.

     *WHOOOMPH!*

     "...if he'd remembered that metal conducts heat really
well."

     The cabinet, glowing a cheerful red, vanished back into
FurnitureSpace as Marlo dropped it like a hot... er... you get
the picture.  He sucked on his fingers and cursed colorfully (yet
indistinctly), but remembered himself just in time to roll out of
the way of another burst of flame.

     But Charizard didn't let up.  It didn't seem at all
interested in the basic concept of Hardcore - to smack your
opponent around with everything under the sun - and instead
relied on searing bursts of fiery breath, with the occasional
lash of its flame-tipped tail to break the monotony.  Marlo was
unused to fighting without his furniture, or indeed any weapon
that wasn't cremated within seconds, and found himself knocked
against a turnbuckle, dazed and confused.

     Lilith bounced a few times, a move that served to distract
Hiroshi even further.  "Wai!  He's getting taken to the cleaners! 
Burn him again!  Burn him again!"

     Eager to please, Charizard took a deep breath and unleashed
a huge cone of flame that washed over Marlo's battered form.  The
fires engulfed him and continued on, searing the turnbuckle and
basically destroying the connecting ropes, and nearly fried the
audience before the WashuuTech force fields snapped into place.

     "...Well, that's it for him, then," Daisuke decided.

     Even Hiroshi was stunned.  "Um... we may need a burn team at
ringside?  And maybe a few dozen fire extinguishers?"

     Satisfied, Charizard cut off the flames and turned toward
the Hardcore belt... but the crowd's surprised gasps made it turn
around.

     Leaning against the turnbuckle, heated yet undamaged from
the fire, was a large stone table.  (And somewhere, in Marlo's
home universe, a hugely-built Buddhist monk fell over backwards
at the sudden lack of a counterbalance.)

     Annoyed, Charizard let loose with another burst of flame,
which again surrounded its target.  But though some of the fire
curled around to singe Marlo in his hiding place, the brunt of
the attack was deflected.  Marlo himself was smouldering gently,
yet was otherwise unharmed.

     "Not bad," Daisuke admitted.  "Though turtling up isn't
going to win him this match."

     The same thought seemed to have occurred to Marlo, who
extended an arm from behind the table and made beckoning motions. 
Irritated and perhaps hoping for a better line of fire, Charizard
cautiously approached the table.

     Those at the announcer's table had a better view.  "What's
that he's got there?" Hiroshi wondered as Marlo unzipped his
latest acquisition from FurnitureSpace.  "A bean-bag chair?"

     The pokemon peered around the edge of the table, only to
receive a double-handful of tiny particles in the face.  It
staggered back, rubbing at its eyes.

     "No, it's a *sand*-bag chair!"  Lilith flapped out of
Hiroshi's lap and hovered angrily.  "That's low, even for him!"

     Blinded, Charizard let loose with another blast of fire
toward Marlo's corner.  He was ready for it this time, though,
and with its vision blurred the pokemon failed to see the huge
object in the path of its flame.

     The heat burned a hole in the projectile - which happened to
be a large waterbed - and the pressure within the mattress acted
like a water cannon, drenching Charizard but more importantly
filling its mouth and temporarily extinguishing its flames.

     As steam rose from the astonished pokemon's mouth, Marlo
emerged from behind the table and summoned a birdbath, bouncing
it smugly in one hand.  "Well, well, well.  Looks like you've
lost yer fire, scale-boy.  Guess I better put you out of yer
misery."  He rushed forward, and Charizard, bellowing in
defiance, did the same.

     "OH, MY!" Hiroshi shouted.  "In a surprising come-from-
behind chain of events, Marlo has seized the initiative and has
opened up a can of whoop-ass!  He's doing his own pokemon
training, folks - he's taking Charizard to school!"

     "You hate him," Daisuke reminded him.

     "But I'm sure Charizard will return the favor any time now,"
Hiroshi continued without missing a beat.

     In the ring, Charizard was indeed having some trouble.  Now
*it* was the one without its favorite weapon - it could use its
tail and claws, but these weren't doing very well against the
superior range and bulk of Marlo's furniture attacks.  After a
particularly heavy bash from a dinette set, the pokemon was
forced back against the turnbuckle.  It needed an edge if it was
going to...

     "Char-kun!"

     As the pokemon glanced toward the announcer's table, Lilith
*piffled*, and suddenly was a close replica of Ash himself, save
for having a somewhat darker outfit and purplish hair.  She
grabbed something from beside her and tossed it to the ring. 
"*Chair*-mander, I choose YOU!"

     Charizard caught the steel folding chair and, after treating
Lilith to an amused smirk, gripped it with both claws and glared
at Marlo.

     Who was not impressed.  "Ooooo, the big lizard thinks he can
play with the big dogs, huh?"  He pulled a chair of his own from
FurnitureSpace and held it at the ready, sneering at the pokemon. 
"Bring it on."

     If the scene were animated, it would have been much more
dramatic - the two warriors glaring at each other, then both
beginning a swift advance, the screen showing Marlo, then
Charizard, then Marlo then Charizard then-Marlo-then-Charizard,
increasing the pace until the two images were superimposed.

     Since this was live on video, however, they just ran at each
other.

     There was a clang of metal on metal as they passed each
other, and both fighters drew to a halt a short distance away.

     Silence reigned, even in the Ultradome.  A few seconds
later, Marlo grunted in pain and dropped to his knees.

     Smugly, Charizard turned around to survey its fallen foe...
then it winced in delayed shock and slowly fell to the ground,
unconscious.

     "...And Marlo wins!  He... uh... oh, you do it, Daisuke.  I
don't feel like cheering for him."

     "Fine.  Marlo picks up the win and remains the self-entitled
Hardcore Champ of the Twentieth Century."  As a pack of Nurse
Joys swarmed out and whisked Charizard away, Marlo held his belt
high over his head.  "Kind of a pointless accomplishment, but he
seems to like it."

     "Y'know, that coulda been me up there..."

     Daisuke stared at his friend, then shook his head.  "We'll
be back after this, folks."

                           =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     In a darkened laboratory deep within the newly christened
ShadowNERV Headquarters, Ken Masters floated within a glass
prison.  Suspended in water, he was connected to life support
systems and various analytical devices, but these were less
important than the bulky visor strapped over his eyes.

     Occasionally he would thrash helplessly, or let out a
muffled grunt of panic.  The nearby equipment monitored and
recorded his every action, watching him without sympathy or
mercy.

     A gangling figure emerged from the shadows, glaring at Ken
with a single malignant eye.  The visitor stood still for long
minutes, filling with rage and hatred, then snapped a fist toward
the helpless man's containment tube with nigh-unstoppable force.

     There was the meaty thunk of flesh striking flesh, rather
than the shattering of glass that had been inspected; the
visitor's eye widened as he realized who had appeared in time to
catch his fist before impact.

     M. Bison grinned - it was something he did well.  "Now, now,
Sagat.  After all, *he's* not the one you want, hmm?"

     The kickboxer locked gazes with Bison for long moments, then
lowered his hand.  "Maybe not," he admitted, "but killing Ryu's
little playmate would be entertaining... for a time, at least."

     With a chuckle, the tyrant shook his head.  "Ah, but how
much more satisfying will it be when we turn his friend against
him?"

     "You've tried that before," Sagat pointed out.  "Not only
with Ryu and his companions, but with Terry Bogard and that girl
Athena as well."

     Bison raised an eyebrow.  "Are you perhaps insulting me,
Sagat?  Implying that my techniques lack... originality?"

     The scarred man returned Bison's gaze defiantly, despite the
fact that the leader of Shadowloo was not one to be trifled with. 
But while Sagat was no coward, nor was he a fool - he turned
away.  "I'm merely saying that one should learn from their past
mistakes."

     There was a dangerous moment, then Bison laughed.  "You are,
of course... correct.  And learn I have."  He placed his palm
against Ken's prison.  "I've taken pains this time to ensure that
my control over Masters is rather more..."  For a moment, his
eyes blazed with shimmering purple Psycho Energy.  "...personal."

     "And once he is ready?  What then?"

     "Why, I will enter him in Ultra, of course.  With a partner,
I think, so he may be in the correct league."

     Sagat frowned.  "Two warriors?  In the... teams division?" 
He was not a big Ultra fan.

     "Lambda, yes."  Bison turned back to his lieutenant.  "But
let me make this clear - his first priority will not be to
torment Ryu, but to defeat those who have given me so much
trouble recently.  The ninja and my former pawns; it is they who
must suffer his wrath."

     Again, the kickboxer scowled, forming his own opinions as to
the more important priorities but unwilling to debate the issue. 
"As you command."  He glanced at the tube.  "When will he be
ready?"

     "Soon.  Soon."  Bison raised a fist, which glowed with
power.  "One his conditioning is complete, those that have defied
me will suffer the consequences."

                           =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     Jack was bored.  The shower room windows had fogged up
before he could see what was going on, and given the energy
blasts Morrigan threw around that could have meant a fight *or* a
hentai scene.  He hated not knowing.

     His attention was briefly distracted as he heard the typing,
or rather the attempt at typing, from the outer office.  His
secretary practiced the technique known as hunt-and-peck, but
which in this circumstance would be more accurately termed hunt-
and-pounce.

     Nuku Nuku was, as he'd admitted earlier, not the best
secretary in the world, with a cat's perspective of proper filing
and a typing rate of ten words per minute, provided they were
short words.  But there was something wonderfully scandalous
about having a beautiful, busty young secretary that sucked at
her job; it suited him just fine making people wonder what her
*other* duties were.  Not that he'd try something like that, of
course; he was a changed man.  Really.

     Besides, he'd essayed a friendly pat, and shortly thereafter
Nuku Nuku had informed him that 'Papa-san' had told her not to
let people touch her like that.  And Jack had told her he agreed
with the wisdom of that advice, though his voice had been
somewhat muffled by the wall she'd thrown him through.

     A soft knock at the door interrupted his musings, and when
he looked up he smiled at what he saw.  "Tifa!  Nice to see you. 
Can I get you anything?  Drink?  Snacks?  Skimpy bikini?"

     "No, that's okay," she said, sauntering toward him.  "I
won't be here long."

     "In that case, to what do I owe the, and I say this
hopefully, pleasure?"

     She smiled winningly.  "I'm just here to pay off a favor I
owe."

     Jack frowned, puzzled.  "You don't owe me a favor, do you?"

     "It's not *your* favor.  It's Cologne's."

     Suddenly Jack's mind began to race.  Cologne, Shampoo and
Mousse's manager.  Tifa had beat Shampoo, thus invoking the Kiss
of Death.  Jack hadn't heard anything about that lately, so
something must have been worked out.  In fact, the last time he
saw Shampoo was on the night that he...

     Uh-oh.

     Tapping the concealed button several times, he started to
back up.  "Now, uh, let's not be hasty here..."

     "Sit down, Jack."  She pushed him into his chair and leaned
over him; he was almost too distracted at the moment to enjoy the
view.  "That wasn't a very nice thing that you did to Shampoo,
was it?"

     "It was a literary homage," Jack protested weakly.  "So sue
me for adding a bit of class to Ultra."  He fiercely tapped the
button a few more times.

     Tifa's expression was stern.  "That went beyond 'class',
Jack.  She could have died in that ring.  The only reason you
weren't brought to task for doing that was because you were God. 
Now," she added, cracking her knuckles, "you're fair game."

     Jack cast about for an escape, but realized that not only
was he trapped, but his secretary/bodyguard was being expertly
distracted by Tifa's partner.  Bean was chatting the android up,
and this was working, but for entirely the wrong reasons.  Rather
than becoming enthralled with the courier's rugged charm and good
looks, Nuku Nuku had detected, requested, and received the tuna
sandwich he'd been saving for later, and was happily chowing down
while he watched her, mystified.

     He returned his attention to Tifa.  "So, what're you going
to do?" he asked defiantly.  "Pound me to a pulp?"

     She grinned.  "That's such a good idea!  You can't say you
don't deserve this, either.  You've caused so many people so many
problems - not only Shampoo, but also Mr. Satan, Shinji, Dan...
well, the list goes on and on, doesn't it?"  She leaned closer
and raised her fist.  "You've had this coming for a while."

     He squeezed his eyes shut... then snapped them open as Tifa
delivered a gentle kiss to his forehead.  "On the other hand,"
she continued, straightening up, "you gave up your power in order
to save the world.  That was so noble, so heroic, so...
*cliched*."  She grinned as she watched him squirm.  "That counts
for something in my book."

     "So... what now?"

     "I don't know."  She sat on his desk and played with a
materia on her glove absently.  "My agreement with Cologne is to
get Shampoo and Mousse something in return for what you've done
with them, but damned if I can think of what that would be, apart
from stomping you into the ground."

     Jack's thought processes were already working at full blast,
and it wasn't long before he snapped his fingers.  "How about
being able to write their own ticket?"

     "Huh?"

     "Yeah, this'll work.  Next match they're in, they can pick
and choose their opponents.  Lambda title?  No problem.  Want to
smack around two Gamma weenies?  Sure.  Hardcore rules, cage
match, flaming pit of carnivorous eggplants - it's their call,
and their rules.  As long as *I'm* not the one in the ring, they
can fight whoever they want."

     Tifa looked a bit dubious.  "I don't know if they'll accept
that."

     He shrugged.  "It's that, or my blood all over this nice
clean rug."

     Jack thought he'd gone too far as Tifa seemed to be
considering that notion... but finally she shrugged.  "I'll talk
it over with Cologne.  That doesn't hardly make up for what you
did, but at least it's a start."  She stood up and wandered out. 
"Better hope they think so, too."

     Watching her leave was one of the better parts of the day. 
For more than one reason.

                           =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     The crowd was once again enthused; Ranma's match had been
something of a disappointment, but the Hardcore challenge ahd
been something else entirely.  As the camera passed along the
teeming throng, more signs were visible: "Aa, Lina-sama!",
"SATANARAMA!"  "It doesn't matter what Sailor Moon Says!"

     Daisuke paused and peered at that last sign.  "Um... is that
even relevant?"

     His partner shook his head.  "You always have to make such a
big deal out of everything.  Just let it ride, pal."

     With a shrug, the dark-haired announcer, well, announced. 
"Our next match is an Omega competition, set up just this evening
by Controversial Jack."

     "That's right, Dai!  And not even WE know who's going to be
fighting!"

     "Like I said, same as usual.  Anyway, all eyes on the
ControversialTron..."

                           =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     The wind whipped across the nameless desert, gently
sandblasting the huge scorpion-like mecha parked there.  Its
pilot, impatient for the match to start, put the robot through
its paces, destroying a few sand dunes and scaring a bunch of
camels.  B-ko didn't know what opponent that maniac had planned
for her, but she was certain that the Morotsuki Sigma would be
ready.

     When an interdimensional portal opened some distance away,
B-ko trained every weapon the mecha had on it.  Who would emerge? 
Not Gally, and hopefully not Sephiroth-sama... Perhaps Ifurita,
or one of the EVAs?  That would make for a worthy challenge.

     Naturally, it was none of the above.

     At first, B-ko thought that she was being attacked by a pair
of pillows.  Then the rest of her opponent appeared, accompanied
by...

     "OOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOO!"

     ...her laugh.

     B-ko was annoyed.  "*You* are my opponent?" she asked
incredulously via the external speakers.

     "That is correct, little girl," Naga agreed.  "If you wish
to surrender now, I would certainly understand."

     "I will do no such thing, *old lady*," the young mecha
designer replied with a scowl.  "You stand in the way of my
vengeance, and thus shall be destroyed!"

     "Let it begin, then!"

                           =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

][ B-KO DAITOKUJI vs NAGA THE WHITE SERPENT
][ FIGHT!

     The Morotsuki Sigma clacked its monstrous claws and prepared
its main tail-mounted positron cannon for the first volley.  "It
is a shame," B-ko announced, "that you die so needlessly.  I
suppose it's a comfort that you've lived to such a *ripe* old
age."

     Naga examined the mecha with a bored expression.  "How
crude.  No aesthetic merits whatsoever."

     "What?!"  This had struck home.  "My designs are flawless! 
Do you hear me?  FLAWLESS!"

     With a shrug, Naga took to the air and floated in front of
the Morotsuki.  "I'm sure it's a *comfort* to believe that.  But
as I shall summon a golem that will squash this contraption like
the bug that it is, it's something of a pity that your belief
will not last very long."

     At this point B-ko, who was at least subconsciously aware
that most of her designs had a small but ultimately fatal flaw,
made a decision.  "If you are so sure of yourself," she demanded,
"then let us settle this in personal combat!  After all, I
wouldn't want you to strain yourself, thus acquiring *another*
wrinkle."

     (Back in the Ultradome, Daisuke shook his head.  "If they
don't fight, they can always talk each other to death...")

     Naga's eyebrow twitched.  "As you say, then.  Just you and
me, a battle in the ancient tradition!"

     "Agreed!"  Opening a hatch, B-ko activated her suit's flight
systems and took to the air, landing just in front of the
Morotsuki.  A few moments later, Naga joined her.

     For a moment, both admired the other's taste in clothing,
then B-ko raised her arm-mounted missile launcher.  "Choose your
weapons, old lady!"

     "Oh, so?" Naga bore the grin of the canary that ate the cat. 
"Do you mean to say that *I* may choose the manner of our
combat?"

     B-ko most certainly did *not* mean that, but she wasn't
about to back down at this point.  "Age before beauty, after all. 
So what shall it be?  Ranged combat?  Fisticuffs?  Grenade polo,
perhaps?"

     "Nothing so barbaric."  Naga raised a fist over her head. 
"As I said, a battle in the ancient tradition."  She swung the
fist downward.  "JAN!"

     B-ko's eyes snapped wide, and she barely managed to raise
her own fist by the time Naga dropped her hand for the second
time.  "KEN!"

     On the final beat, they said it together.  "PON!"

     B-ko's hand was curled into a fist.  Naga's was extended
into a flat surface.

     The Daitokuji heir's mind was utterly blank as Naga lauged
at her.  "A child's game, and you could not even succeed at that! 
Return to kindergarden, little girl - you still have much to
learn."  Enraged, B-ko activated the Morotsuki's remote link as
Naga took a deep breath, and the scorpion mecha lifted one huge
claw.  "OOOOHOHO*Thunk!*HOOOOOoooooooooooo..."  Naga was
literally smacked to the horizon by B-ko's vengeful fury, and
more specifically by her robot.

                           =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     Hiroshi, meanwhile, was stunned.  "Uh... what just
happened?"

     "I think we just saw the first Omega match decided by Rock-
Paper-Scissors," Daisuke told him.

     "That was boring," Lilith decided, still occupying Hiroshi's
lap.  "If that's all it takes, maybe *I'll* join Omega.  I can
kick Ayanami's butt in hopscotch any day of the week."

     There was no way to respond to this, so Daisuke didn't.  "At
any rate, that's our show tonight, folks.  On behalf of everyone
here at Ultra, we wish you all a happy new year."

     "See you next week, folks!  Drive safely!"

                           =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

     Ken had been restrained once again, and thanks to judicious
use of Psycho Power, he was considerably more compliant.  Alone
in the lab, Bison watched his new 'toy', floating helplessly in
another tube.  He was awake now, but obviously wished otherwise.

     Conditioning Ken had been an unusual challenge.  Rather than
attempting outright control, Bison had implemented an ancient
technique he'd discovered - this was the first time he'd tried
it, but he had every confidence that it would prove to be...

     His musing ended as he sensed a presence behind him.  He
grinned broadly, and few people could grin like M. Bison.  "I was
wondering when you'd decide to resume our conversation."

     "Who is she?" Akuma growled.

     "Oh, dear.  You face me in my own lair and demand answers of
me?"  He began to glow with Psycho Power.  "No, I don't think so. 
I really don't."

     "I *will* have vengeance on the cretin that has insulted
me," the intruder insisted.  "Whether you cooperate or not is of
no interest to me - but if you do, your pain will certainly be
decreased."

     Bison laughed.  "You wish to beat it out of me?  How droll. 
My power is more than sufficient to handle you, my old friend." 
He stepped into a ready stance.  "Shall we, as they say, 'throw
down'?"

     The demonic martial artist was unimpressed.  "I will not
fight you now, worm.  You are unworthy of my fists."  Akuma's
eyes blazed redly as he regarded Ken's barely-conscious form. 
"But consider this.  You are already fighting a war on two fronts
- dare you begin on a third?  I can assure you: that is one that
you would lose."

     Like Sagat, Bison was neither a coward nor a fool.  Time
enough, he decided, to deal with Akuma later; his more recent
opponents needed to take precedence.  "I will consider it," he
said, turning away and giving a slight wave over his shoulder. 
"You may go now."

     "..."  Ignoring the mortal insult, Akuma vanished.

     And afterwards, Bison thought, Akuma *would* pay.  Let him
deal with the one that had created his doppelgangers - that was
of little importance to the tyrant.  In the fullness of time, it
would all be the same regardless.

     Within the tube, Ken twitched helplessly.

                           =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

][ ULTRA EPISODE 32 RESULTS RECAP
][ LINA issues standing offer to fight anyone
][ LINA also introduces AGS-AT Field
][ RANMA defeats JOHNNY CAGE, now at 8W/5L
][ MARLO defeats CHARIZARD and remains the Hardcore Champion
][ CONTROVERSIAL JACK grants the JUSENKYO SURVIVORS the right to
choose the terms of their next match
][ NAGA defeats B-KO in a no-holds-barred fight to the finish,
now at 3W/3L

                           =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

     I'm actually rather pleased with the way this turned out.

     If this seems like patting my own back, it really isn't: the
morning before I finished up, I felt that a large portion of it
sucked, or if not that it needed a whole lot more work.  I'd
originally meant to add a LOT more stuff - what you see above is
possibly one third of what I'd had planned - so there's still
some rough parts where it doesn't flow very well.  But I've
wasted the time that I should've used to work on it, and I have
nobody to blame but myself.

     As I said, though, it turned out better than I'd feared.  It
could still do with a lot of polish, but overall I'm satisfied
enough to turn it in.

     I hope I did a good job in revitalizing old plot threads
while minimizing new ones.  And no new characters, though Bison
will need a partner for Ken.  This is acceptable in my opinion,
since we need to get Masters back into the action somehow, and
that'll also contribute to the ShadowNERV/KoF plotline.

     I could go on, but I always prefer to let my chapter speak
for itself.  It needs work, and isn't by any means my best
writing, but I hope everyone likes it.  Scott, you're up!