Wave after wave rolled onto the beach, sand and surf washing in and out with the tides. Night would be falling soon; the tourists had packed up and gone home, what few tourists Coney Island got during September. Slim pickings, he thought, as he spooned some relish onto a hot dog. But slim pickings are still better than no pickings. "You want mustard with this, right?" he asked, after putting some on. "No, not really," the customer said, looking out to sea. "Would you look at that? Clouds are rolling in. I thought the weatherman said it'd be sunny and warm today..." "Can't trust the weather guys," the vendor said, carefully rotating the hot dog to hide the mustard. "They're just mathematicians and scientists. Pushing around numbers and stuff. Don't have a real feel for the pulse of the world, you know? Back in my day I'd just think, 'Is it gonna rain today?' and I'd know. Or I'd think 'I don't want it to rain today' and it wouldn't... ah, here you go. One sheep dog!" "'Sheep dog'?" the customer asked, confused. "Neat pun, huh? It's like a hot dog, but made from mutton," the vendor said, grinning with pride. "It's gonna be really big once I get some marketing capital, mark my words. Miraculous! You can claim you had one of the first ones ever--" "I think I'll pass," the guy said, nudging the thing away. "Just a bag of chips and a soda. ...hey, haven't I seen you before?" "Maaaybe," the vendor teased, fetching a foil-wrapped bag of Fritos. Inside, he was tickled pink at the recognition... "Hey, yeah! It was... back at that tournament they had on TV years ago. The something or other successional tournament. Kasumi won the godhead there! You were... errr... who were you again?" The sheep-dog vendor's face fell. "God! I was God. You know. The God before Kasumi was God? Smashingly handsome guy with all the style and moves? The Main Man, the Big Daddy, the--" "Wow, you're really still wearing those awful Hawaiian shirts!" the customer laughed. "Man, no wonder you're serving up hot dogs, you can't even afford a new wardrobe!" "Chips and soda, two bucks," the sheep-dog vendor formerly known as God demanded, wanting to change the subject. He ate the prepared tube of meat inna bun himself, not wanting good food to go to waste, and since he still wasn't used to having the regular meals mortal life demanded of him. Thunder rolled in quietly from the sea. Nobody said the massive boom of lightning's air displacement had to be loud; from far away, the worst hurricane in the world might've been a strain on the airs to hear. The previous God listened closely, ignoring the sound of change clinking on the surface of his cart as his client paid for the snacks. "Feels like a storm's coming," he without the capital H said. "Guess you'd know, huh," the guy said as he ripped open the bag of chips. "What with bein' omniscient and all." "I'm not omniscient any more. I just can feel a storm coming," the vendor said. He flipped the lid shut on his cart. "I think I better be going. Thanks for your patronizing." "Patronage." "Right, that." The mortal with no name untied his umbrella and opened it, to ward off any incoming rain. Not that it felt like the storm would arrive soon... it still felt a good distance away. The clouds were growing dark and nasty, and it'd be a real mother of a downpour when it arrived -- maybe it'd be best to split for awhile. Yeah. Something inside him said it'd be an absolutely terrific idea to be somewhere else. Tokyo. Tokyo was lovely this time of year... ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** { 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.mtcffultra.com } Episode 51: Paradigm Prelude Episode written by Twoflower Shopping scene by Damien Phoenix ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** In a lab so large that it told conventional physics to get bent, the galaxy's greatest scientist was building a better mousetrap. There wasn't anything better to do on a rainy day, and she needed the practice. There was an ancient earth saying that if one was to 'Build a better mousetrap, the world would beat a path to your door'. Washuu Hakubi wasn't interested in people beating on her door (assuming they could find her) but the challenge sounded intriguing. Especially since she was still a bit rusty after such a long period as a fruitcake. Oh, she had played with Bison's adorable little machines... but that wasn't very hard, and was done more out of revenge for what the bastard did to Ifurita than any sort of desire to practice. No, for practicing, she had to just sit down and INVENT something. Something grand. Something spectacular. Something powered by cold fusion with a transdimensional power relay unit and the ability to process sixty four million mice a second! She was just getting started by testing various types of cheeses through the scientific method of heat deformation over a meat patty with pickles and onions on a sesame bun when the phone rang. This displeased her greatly, partly because the surprise caused her to drop her snac-- err, experiment. Apparently, Gally had reconnected her long distance service after she trashed it in favor of an orbital communications platform that ran the IPv6 protocol... Gally had done a terrific job leading the CyberGrrlz in her absence, above and beyond the call of duty, but still needed some training on coping with telemarketers... Still, it'd be impolite not to answer. She fetched the phone, and spoke. "Speak," she commanded. "I am speaking to Washuu Hakubi, yes?" a smooth voice asked. "Presumably. Nabiki Tendo, right?" Washuu asked. She snapped her fingers, summoning a fully prepared cheeseburger (since 'Have it your way' was less of an advertising jingle and more of a life's calling for her). "Haven't heard your voice in awhile. You need something?" "Yes, actually--" "Does it involve inventing something?" "...yes, yes it does. I need a very special arena for a very special warrior. One that only someone of your superior technological mastery could construct." "Okay, I agree," Washuu said. "What'll it be?" She fetched a laser pen from subspace and scribbled out the requirements on a nearby wall, since Nuku-Nuku had used her last bit of 'From The Desk Of The #1 Genius Scientist' stationery for a grocery list. "...right... right..." she nodded along, listening. "Huh. Really? That's awfully nice of you to... oh, cameras. I get the idea. Ratings?" "Buyrate," Nabiki corrected. "Can you have it ready for the pay-per- view?" "Sure thing. Of course, I'm expecting a little compensation. Say... one fight of my choosing in your fun little show in the future? No, I don't have any ideas yet, but it never hurts to have a blank check." "I can manage that. Consider it done, Washuu. Pleasure doing business with you. Oh, you should know none of the CyberGrrlz are booked tonight; the show is in fact cancelled." "Right, right. Er, what? Canc--" Click. Well, that was rude, she thought. Just when it was getting interesting. Washuu moved to return the cordless phone to its cradle when it rang again. Yes, she would definitely have to track down the suit that fast- talked Gally into renewing her service and invent a new form of agony for him... "Speak," she greeted. "*squeak*" "Excuse me?" "That's obscene, Mr. Duck!" Controversial Jack complained on the other end of the line. "It's none of your business what color they are! Now let's be friendly to the nice, kind, sweet genius scientist. OI! Washuu-chaaaan?" Oooh, bonus points, Washuu-CHAN thought. "Jack! Howdy do? Good to hear from you. I understand you've been treating Nuku-Nuku well in my absence..." "Ah... yeah. Listen, Washuu-chan, I've got a favor to ask--" "Does it involve inventing something?" "Smart as a whip and twice as snappy!" Jack exclaimed. "Good job, Washuu-chan! Whip me! WHIP ME! Anyway, I need an invention, yes. Specifically, it has to be capable of....." "...right, right.... right..." she said, scribbling the second order below the first one on her wall. "Uh-huh. Really? Heh. That's gonna be pretty interesting. I think I've got a module I can adapt for that, actually; used it at Tenchi's house once." "So you can have it ready for the pay-per-view?" Jack asked, hopeful. "Sure thing. Of course, I'm expecting a little compensation. Say... Mr. Duck as a guinea pig for a day? I'm curious to see if he's really some upper dimensional entity or just a voice in your head or both." "*squeak*??" "Sold!" Jack agreed. "Pleasure doing business with you, Washuu-chan!" "You're welcome!" Washuu chirped. "Now say I'm the cutest bestest genius scientist in the whole universe!" "I'm the cutest bestest genius scientist in the whole universe!" "Close enough." My my. Two inventions, Washuu thought. Better get started. She hung up the phone, cracked her knuckles, devoured a cheeseburger and got her groove on in a quantum sort of way. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** The rain outside was coming down hard, but the only sounds Nabiki Tendo could hear were the melodious tunes of heavy construction. Perhaps it was too generous to give everybody the night off (even if it was without pay), but it had to be done; the upgrades and modifications to the UltraDome were going to take some time to handle, even for the This Old Dojo crew. She keyed the pad on her palmtop iPaq, to get a live status report on the project... Backstage cameras: 80% complete. This was the crowning achievement of her Epsilon preparations, and yet, it was the simplest idea of them all. What with 'reality' shows like Survivor and Big Brother at the forefront of popular culture, why not install cameras in dressing rooms and hallways and backstage areas? That way, the audience wouldn't miss a single moment of the thrill a minute drama that is Ultra. Ratings had been slipping (not by much, not by much) and market testing showed that the audience didn't have any idea why people hated each other so much... it was time to lift Ultra's skirt and see what color her panties were, so to speak. Of course, this had the added bonus of letting her spy on Jack's little friends and learn of their plans ahead of time, while controlling the cameras so that her own machinations remained hidden to the folks at home. Not that she'd admit to that being her primary reason for the change. Outside of the UltraDome, there was the brand spanking new 'UltraTokyo Karoke Bar and Grill'. Nabiki had always wanted into the restaurant business, since seeing how well Ukyou and Shampoo did (and wanting to edge them out of the business in the process... friendly competition never hurt anyone). The grill would be complete tonight, and would have a celebrity handy to open the place to the public the next day. She could charge an overblown cover fee for folks wanting to watch the pay-per-view from there as well. Sweet, too sweet. What else, what else... the titanium cage: 100% complete. Excellent. For those fights that got a little too out of hand (or fights she WANTED to get out of hand to drive up the blood and gore factor) cage matches would now be much easier to handle. And without the need for a referee, since the only way to win was to get out of the cage, she didn't have to pay the zebras a dime! Other changes included a new backstage vending machine (which apparently Lina had destroyed a season ago), knocking down a few walls so Lain could expand her Navi, and installation of some private boxes for VIPs to view the event from -- complete with wet bar, close circuit monitors and catering. She had a few American politicians and some more emissaries from the Vatican showing next week, and they would NOT be sitting in the cheap seats this time. Yes, construction was progressing nicely. But even with Ultra taking a week off, there was still work to be done. Promotional spots had to be assembled to pimp-- ah, inform the public about the Loser Leaves Creation match, little details had to be overseen... *KNOCK*. And yes, that. "Come in, Akane, Ranma," Nabiki announced, without looking up. The door opened hard enough to dent the plaster behind it. "What's the deal, Nabiki?" Akane demanded. "You know, you COULD have just talked to us at home. Why'd we have to take a taxi all the way out to the UltraDome if there's no show tonight?" "Now sis, there's a place for family fun and a place for business," Nabiki said, setting her iPaq down and walking over to greet her kin and kin- in-law-ish. "This is business. It wouldn't do to conduct it in such an unprofessional location." Akane groaned. "Nabiki? Do I HAVE to remind you that you're only one year older than me? You're acting like you're thirtysomething! Ever since you got that private tutor so you didn't have to go to Furinkan anymore--" "The reason I have called you here," Nabiki said, uninterested in bantering with Akane, "Is to give you both details on your matches for next week. Akane, you know that Marlo will face you for the Hardcore Title rematch. I've been trying to keep you two apart so you'll be fresh for the big finale--" "And so you can milk the fans for more money," Ranma added quietly, breaking his silence. "--but the truth is that I've been trying to arrange a special venue for this battle," Nabiki corrected. "Somewhere you two can truly achieve your finest fight to date. I believe I've finally located your ideal arena! Akane, what three words pop into your head when you think of the finest in hardcore fighting action?" "'Akane Tendo, Champion'?" Akane guessed, smirking. "Nope. World Championship Wrestling! I've been doing some business deals with a nice man named Vince Russo and he's generously agreed to allow you and Marlo a time slot for your battle during the pay-per-view, from the set of their Monday night show!" "For a fee," Ranma added. "I know you, Nabiki. Don't forget that you were my manager back when I was having my problems. EVERYTHING you do is for money. All the autograph sessions, all the mall openings, all the special appearances you booked for me were to put money in your pocket. I've never heard of this crazy gaijin or his wrestling show. How much is he paying you?" "Enough," Nabiki stated simply. "Show up at the building on time and I'll use the dome's personal teleporters to take you to the event. No need to fly anywhere, no jet lag, no uncomfortable hotels--" "Which would cost you money," Ranma added. "Do I sense a malcontent in my midst?" Nabiki asked. "Do you have something to say, Ranma? Something specific to complain about?" Ranma stepped forward, to address Nabiki directly. "You told me I have a 'special match'. I want to know what it is. I'm tired of these silly games. Is it against Marlo? Because you and I know I don't WANT to fight him. It's only... HER that still has enough of a grudge to get into a stupid brawl over it." "Funny you should mention 'her'," Nabiki said. "You and Akane have... generally done a good job at keeping her from messing with my show. But she DID cause problems during the Mr. Satan match, as well as other times. Ranma... what if I told you I could give you the opportunity to be rid of her... forever?" "I've already had therapy, Beek." "Ah, but you haven't experienced THIS twelve step program yet. I just got off the phone with Washuu, and she's agreed to construct a special arena just for you... an arena of the mind, using her superior technology. You will get a chance to go toe to toe with your own split personality. Ranma vs. Ranma. Loser leaves psyche." Akane laughed. "Now that is the weirdest ratings stunt I've heard from you, Nabiki. What is this, some silly manga? That's impossible. And even if you SOMEHOW managed to do that, it's crazy! There's no way Ranma would--" "I accept," Ranma said. "--WHAT?" "Akane... you know it's getting harder to keep her away," Ranma said, keeping his voice low. "Accidental spills. The rainstorm outside. Even the freakin' little old lady with the bucket and ladle on the way to school... if Doctor Tofu's work isn't doing it, I've gotta find some way to end this. It can't go on. I've got to get back to living my normal life." "Ranma! Are you cracked?!" "..." "Uh. I mean... are you sure? This sounds like bad science fiction--" "Oh, I assure you it's good science," Nabiki said, interrupting. "This is Washuu we're talking about. Look... you can say it's all about ratings and money all you want. And you're right. But I'm also giving Ranma a chance to be whole again, after months of grappling with his problems. Don't see this as exploitation, think of it as exploitation AND a wonderful opportunity!" Akane didn't look real convinced, as she eyed her not-so-older sister. "And if he loses...?" The meaty smack of a fist on a palm snapped across the damp air of the office. The force, the determination of that strike was enough to cause a stack of videotapes just outside the office door to topple. "I won't lose," Ranma spoke. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** The war room was tight. It was cramped. It was smoke-filled, but that was just from a bucket of dry ice (for effect). A huge map of the world with tiny glowing red dots covered one wall (also for effect). And at the head of the table of leaders stood one man, a man with a singular vision. A man with very spiky hair. He sat with his phone, his phone book and his duck. There were many preparations to be made. Washuu's involvement was a lock, but the other details still needed attending to. Uniforms to order, machine shops to call, and so on, and so on... Fingers drummed on the table irritably, but they were not Controversial Jack's fingers. This meant he was either a collector of body parts or Daisuke was trying to get his attention. An order form fluttered to rest on his phone book. "What's that for?" Daisuke asked. "And why did you dip into my college savings to buy it?" "Daisuke, Daisuke, you have to understand something," Jack said, leaning back a bit in his Leader's Seat. "This is a delicate operation. It has many requirements, and one of those is a vertical takeoff and landing aircraft. You should be happy! I managed to supplant most of the cost with 'Pepsi Points', so I only had to drain a few Gs american from your account!" "You understand that the only reason I haven't torn your throat out is because I'm not very violent and I don't wanna get blood all over my basement," Daisuke warned. "Now. Care to explain what we need a freakin' HARRIER JET FOR?" "No, not yet. The plan isn't 100% complete. Once it is, I'll let you and the rest of CHAOS in on the fun. There may be leaks, you realize. Double agents. This is war, my friend, and loose lips sink ships!" *squeak* "And Lt. Commander Duck agrees with me," Jack echoed. "Anything else you need me for? I'm a very busy controversial person here." Daisuke rubbed his forehead until the dull throbbing went away. "...yes. I just got a call from Hiroshi. Apparently he was porting some videotapes around the dome for a project he's working on when he overheard a conversation with Nabiki... she's going to ship Akane and Marlo overseas to some outfit called WCW for their match, and Ranma's going to be fighting his own split personality. Since they're loosely affiliated with us, I thought you'd wanna know." "Oooh, ick," Jack yucked, sticking out his tongue. "Has the Tendo woman no class whatsoever? Mmmm. Thanks for the tip, Daisuke. Could you put a call through to Lain for me? I think I need to look up a phone number out of the company address book. This phone book's too old to have a listing." "Who you gonna call?" Jack told him. "Who?" Jack explained himself. "Oh. Wouldn't know it, I don't watch much late night television." "You should sometime, it's quite good. Ahh... Daisuke, I can feel the winds of change blowing! Or maybe it's just the tacos I ate today. But change is coming. I can feel it in my bones. After next week... NOTHING will be the same. And we will have triumphed over the forces of old and evil with the power of our youth! With our intensity, with our fighting spirits, with our CONTROVERSY! Today, Ultra, tomorrow, the WORLD!" "I just wanted my job back," Daisuke whined softly. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** "What about this one, Shingo?" Sakura held the powder-blue skirt and shirt combo in front of her, shifting side-to-side to try and get a feel for it as she looked at herself in the gate-fold mirrors. With her question she turned towards her companion and waited expectantly. Somewhere behind the mountain of bags, boxes, and parcels displaying logos of some of the most chic stores in Shinjuku came a muffled reply. Sakura face broke out into a wide grin and she whirled back towards the mirrors. "Great! Let me go try it on!" As she strode into the dressing rooms, a not-quite-Ultradome rumbling crash took place as the bags and boxes fell to the ground. She paused and looked back at her companion. "Shingo? Are you okay?" His face flushing in embarrassment, Shingo Yabuki scratched the back of his head and let out a nervous laugh. "I'm fine, just lost my grip." His gaze traveled across the already-purchased garments around him. "Are you sure that Jack's okay with you getting this much stuff?" "I'm building up a vibe, Shingo. You're not worried about next week are you?" Shingo thrust a big grin on his face. "Not at all! Jack's got it covered, right?" "Right!" Sakura stepped over the packages to slap Shingo on the back. "There's nothing to be concerned about from CyberAkuma if Jack's on the case, no matter if he is a big, Omega-class, death-dealing cyborg." Shingo sweatdropped, then stooped and started piling up Sakura's bags again to cover the newfound sheen to his forehead. "I'll be fine, yeah. Jack's got a handle on things, guaranteed. I know that there's not going to be a problem, and I'll be perfectly safe, and I'm going to win. Or something." Sakura had tried to distract Shingo with the shopping trip, and to pep him up. Despite Jack's assurances, she did worry about the outcome of the obviously unbalanced battle. And perhaps the death-dealing cyborg bit had been a bit too much. It hadn't been the first time in the afternoon their conversation had gone over this ground, and the assurances didn't sound any less hollow this time. She opened her mouth to reply, but a conglomeration of bumping and groaning interrupted her. Both of the CHAOS fighters' gazes moved to the dressing rooms, where one door in particular was being banged somewhat beyond the regulations for normal use. The movement stopped with a male scream that was somewhere between "This is the greatest moment of my life!" and "Dear God I don't want to go this way!" Sakura swallowed when, scant moments later, the slatted door opened and a voluptuous, teal-tressed succubus sauntered slowly out. "Hey, isn't that..." Shingo started, but Sakura waved her arm to shush him up. Morrigan Aensland roughly kicked a feebly shaking hand that trailed after her from the dressing room as she sauntered away and adjusted her shirt. Sakura stared, wondering how anything could show that much cleavage and not require little blue dots dancing across the screen. The succubus blinked at the two CHAOS members, then a slow smile spread across her face. "Oh, isn't this cute?" Her hips swayed as she approached them. At the edge of the pile of bought clothing, she leaned over slowly and dipped a finger into a bag. She stood up again, a light cardigan hanging from her finger. "What are you two... children doing in a place like this?" "Guh--" Shingo intelligently replied as the cardigan swayed in a nice counterpoint to Morrigan's shirt. Sakura glanced over at him and elbowed the boy martial artist in the gut before a trail of drool could drip all over the afternoon's acquisitions. "We're just shopping," Sakura answered. "That's allowed, right? Nabiki doesn't have another cheating "rule" against it." Morrigan laughed. "No need to be so... confrontational, Sakura. I even have some suggestions for you. I'm sure there's a better store for your needs." The Gamma champion plucked the powder-blue skirt from Sakura's hands and sniffed disdainfully. "Children are in such a hurry to grow up." A quiver of mock sadness edged into Morrigan's smile, her eyes moistening up. "You don't need to act older for anyone's benefit, Sakura. Your attire doesn't show anything off." "Hey! There's nothing wrong with the way I dress. And I'm not showing anything off!" Morrigan slapped a hand against Sakura's thigh. The girl stiffened immediately as the silky-smooth fingers slid up her side, pushing up her skirt as they went. She took a breath and pushed the succubus' hand away. "Don't you touch me, or I'll..." "You'll what? You've got eight inches up to your panty line. Doesn't that seem a bit short?" "There's nothing wrong with my skirts," Sakura growled. "It's only, what, two inches beneath your..." Morrigan continued, then let out a quiet stacatto laugh. "If you're complaining all the time, you really should let it drop. Besides, who wants to see THIS lack of curve?" "I do NOT have a lack of curve! Besides, who wants to watch your trampy ass all the time? Can't you even find clothes that fit over that fat?" Sakura suddenly poked Morrigan right in the middle of her ample cleavage. "This is grotesque, you know." "Oh, and what do you call this flat chest?" Morrigan prodded Sakura back, dead-center on the right side. "I'd guess that Shingo here wears a bigger bra than you. Still in training, Sakura?" Sakura's hands clenched into fists and a faint red fire began to rise off of her head. "You should just go back to the sandbox, little girl. Play with the other children, and then when you're old enough, maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to grace the scene with the real women of the world." "Um... Sakura, maybe we should be going, now." Shingo placed a hand on Sakura's shoulder and began to pull her away. "We've got to get back to headquarters, after all. You're going to help me train, right?" "That's it, run along to play with the other children. I'm sure that the store employees will understand that your outburst is due to your age, and forgive you." Sakura shrugged Shingo's hand off and stared at Morrigan for a long moment. "Back it up," she said quietly. "I'm sorry?" "I said back it up. I'll face you, any time, any where, in any way, and I'll beat you. I'm not a child, I do look better than you, and I'll wipe your skanky ass all across the Ultradome to prove it." Sakura flicked her finger at Morrigan's chin, causing the succubus to flinch, then turned on her heel and stalked out. "C'mon, Shingo. Let's get out of here." ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** In order to maintain an average speed of ninety miles per hour in Tokyo, you have to either A) know the roads well enough to not get caught in traffic or a dinky side street or B) defy the laws of physics or C) both. The jury was out on the exact method used, but most people would put even money on C in the case of Bean Bandit. The Roadbuster (the car and the driver were named the same thing, just to confuse people) tooled around Tokyo without much care for red lights, stop signs, crosswalks, small cats, baby carriages, etc. Because Bean was just one bad mofo, he managed to drive a full throttle Mr. Toad's wild ride without any casualties or property damage. Tension was mounting in the car, as the dashboard clock ticked away. Tifa kept an eye out, leaning over her seat to look for the cops -- they couldn't get caught, not with this precious cargo. The slightest delay would mean being late on the delivery, and then heads would TRULY roll. That was the nature of the business, after all. Tick, tick. Bean cornered and power-slid and twisted the car into various automotive contortions, letting Tifa handle the extraneous things like lookout and clock watching. He was focused on the road, focused on the goal... eyes on the prize. "Bean, we've got one minute..." Tifa warned. "Almost there," he said through gritted teeth, as he pressed himself firmly into his seat for the final hairpin turn... Coming to a rest in front of a modest apartment complex. The car paralell parked itself by virtue of a 540 degree spin, and Tifa was out and running with the box before the ride had come to a full and complete stop. Pounding her feet on the staircase, climbing up three flights, address memorized, knocking, waiting, and... A blonde answered the door, wearing a bathrobe. "Miss Jameson?" Tifa asked, reading the box label. "That's me." "Pizza, ma'am," she continued, holding up the box. "We got here in 29 minutes, so it'll be full price." With a more casual stride, since the task was complete, Tifa returned to the Roadbuster only to find the Roadbuster slumped against the wheel in dejection. "Pizza delivery," Bean Bandit whined, knowing he was whining and hamming it up for excessive comedic sympathy. "I've been reduced to pizza delivery. I can't believe this. Finest point driver in the world and I'm making sure it's hot and fresh and at your door in a half an hour. Tifa, where did I go wrong?" "Maybe it was when you punched that Yakuza guy in the face, and he cancelled our open contract for underworld courier jobs?" Tifa asked, hopping into her seat and closing the door after her. "Hey, he insulted you!" "Bean, I can HANDLE an insult," Tifa laughed. "First of all, it wasn't a very good insult. Second of all, do I gotta remind you I'm a martial artist? I can fight my own battles... I AM the Internet Champion, you know. Had a hell of a night getting that title. My arm still isn't one hundred percent..." "I know you're a tough hitter chick," Bean said, with every ounce of romance and admiration he could squeeze into the phrase. "I'm happy for your victory... bah. I don't know. Maybe I'm just feeling like a fifth wheel here. We haven't exactly lit it up lately, in Ultra or on the job... don't get me wrong, this partnership is working great. I have no complaints." "Then what ARE you complaining about, Beanie?" Bean winced. "Please, Tifa... I'm a tough hardass with a leather jacket and a shiny red car. 'Beanie' makes me sound like a plush toy. What I'm complaining about is, well... I'm not pulling my weight. Ever since we dropped the tag titles I've been off my game. You know? You know what I need?" "Sixteen course meal?" Tifa asked, knowing his tastes. "Yeah, but I could use some GOLD, too. I love bein' in the spotlight," Bean said, leaning on the wheel and smiling distantly. "Never thought I would be. Tough guy lone wolf, underworld of crime, nobody knows my face or my name... but damn, it's FUN to be on camera and entertaining the crowd. And I can beat the living hell out of people legally! That's what I need. I gotta pick up my game. Maybe go after a belt. How's the Omega title looking these days?" Tifa bapped him over the head. "Now, don't you go getting a big head. You're helluva tough, but you're not THAT helluva tough. But hey, if you want, I'll use my raised status in the company to swing you a match or two. We'll see what happens. Okay? Now cheer up. Only two more hours before dinner. Let's get back to Little Ceaser's." Twisting the key in the ignition, Bean shifted gears and rolled away from the apartment complex. Working nine to five to nine wasn't an easy living... he definitely needed to have a little fun. This would take some thinking. Some heavy thinking. Since he wasn't a heavy thinker, he let Tifa handle the decision. "Teef... if you could see me kick ONE person's ass so hard his or her grandparents die, who would it be?" Bean asked. "Oh, that's easy, Bean. REAL easy. You'd be doing the world a favor, too. You sure you're up to the challenge, though?" "I'm game," he said, slipping on his Raybans. "Let's rock." ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** Meanwhile, in a place so evil that cameras involuntarily tilted a few degrees to look like a Batman hideout, M. Bison was plotting. This is normal. Bison was ALWAYS plotting. I plot, therefore I am, he felt; any plan worth doing is worth thinking about ahead of time. Fortunately for him, he was an evil genius (and liked to think of himself as an evil genius) and could do his plotting at record speed. Just today, after overseeing the narcotics division's efficiency increase and watching his new recruits get brainwashed into being perfect killing machines, he came up with a brand new kind of sandwich that involved panda meat and then instructed his plants in the U.S. Congress to approve a new weapons ban so the prices for his goods would skyrocket. It's good to be the king. Not that he hadn't been having a fair share of problems lately. Just last week, a number of annoying little gnats knocked on his door, broke some toys, and kidnapped a work in progress. Very unsettling. Perhaps to the outside world this seemed like a crushing victory, but to M. Bison, it was only Tuesday. After all, when one plan fails, there's always another to take its place. A plan to gain revenge against the silly Psycho Soldiers and Lone Wolves and CyberGrrlz and other Stupidly Named Groups of Weaklings that dared to challenge the might of ShadowNERV. So, before having a light dinner and reviewing the sports page for games he fixed in his favor, he summoned the Muy Thai kickboxing expert he kept under his employ. "Sagat, good of you to come," Bison said, setting down a cup of coffee (black, of course). "I suppose you're wondering why I summoned you from your training?" For an imposing figure of a man, Sagat was not dressed to kill. He had on a simple jogging suit, befitting someone who was pulled out of a workout session unexpectedly; as was the frown he wore. "I was under the impression you wouldn't need my services again for a long time, Bison. My partner was rescued, so I had no further role in Ultra. I intend to return to hard training as soon as possible... especially now that Ryu has resurfaced." "Ryu's the sort who tends to sink after resurfacing. You don't need to worry about him," Bison explained. "What you need to worry about is representing my organization in Ultra. I know how you feel about that TV show, Sagat. You see it as a colossal waste of time." "Those children are not warriors," Sagat spoke dryly. "Fighting them doesn't help improve my skills." "Sagat, Sagat... you're not looking at the bigger picture. You can't ASK for a better training ground than Ultra!" Bison exclaimed. "Such a mixture of styles, from the asburd to the serious. A wide range of enemies to test my creations against. The research data I've collected from that silly little TV show alone has topped what I could obtain by my spy cyborgs. Through Ultra, I obtained new samples such as Ken and Rei that I couldn't have found by other means. That is why I need you there... alongside my latest project... to wreak havoc, hurt people, and generally push the limits of violence to the breaking point. All for the glory of ShadowNERV." "Does this mean you have a new partner for me?" Sagat asked. "He'd better be stronger than Ken. If not for Ken's control, he would have been an inferior warrior." "Oh, I think you'll find the latest subject quite acceptable," Bison said, turning his motorized throne around (since doing it with his feet would have just been silly). He tapped a button, and let a dropcloth fall off a cylindrical tank filled with support fluid... And a human figure. "You're kidding me," Sagat exclaimed, not believing his eyes. "Why kid? It makes perfect sense, Sagat. Rei has the capacity to absorb and use my Psycho Power. This body has the capacity to take fighting ability to new heights. Combine the two, and you get... well. We'll see what we get when I unleash him. He won't need a joystick control... his instinctive fighting skills will do nicely, with some prodding. A perfect soldier. Possibly even capable of capturing that unusual 'Mewtwo' creature for me. I SO want to experiment on him, after seeing his potential..." "You're going to render martial artists with free will obsolete, Bison." "Not entirely," Bison said. "Free will is a privilege, not a right. The select few will be able to enjoy it, in the new order. As for the rest... well. They don't matter. You may have the following two weeks off, Sagat. I need to test him in the field before I'm ready to pair you up. I think you'll be happy with the results." "You know? I think I'll be happy as well," Sagat said, grinning maliciously. "Quite happy with him working for me instead of against me." The silent figure in the tank had no response, floating in the liquid oxygen solution, long blue hair drifting about his form. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** The crowd gathered in anticipation, all a-buzz with nervous glee. Even the mild-to-strong rains that had been lingering over Tokyo for a week didn't deter them from this moment, this singular point in history. It was the dawning of a new age, the beginning of a new experience in sports- entertainment and bad music and fine dining... "I hereby declare the UltraTokyo Karoke Bar and Grill... OPEN!" Dan declared, shaking a taunting fist at the pink ceremonial ribbon that stretched across the doors. The force of his ego snapped the ribbon in two. "OOSHA!!" Applause broke out among the gathered Ultra fans, as Dan led them inside to their new mecca. It was a really fabulous joint; Ultra memoribilia hung on the walls, and all the dishes were named after fighters ("The Baked Beans Bandit Surprise," "Morrigan's Roast Beefcake," "Liver Inverse," "Tifa's Melon-mango Sorbet"). Rather expensive, but these were Ultra fans; they'd have donated a kidney if it meant getting in the door. But what truly drew Dan to this locale was not the food, was not the drink. It was the machine. Standing six glorious feet tall with more dials and sliders than Mission Control in Houston, it was the finest karoke machine money could not buy. Nothing but the best for Nabiki's restaurant, especially if it in turn drove the menu prices up. The machine was capable of playing sixty thousand songs (mostly from the 70's and 80's, of course) and could project the lyrics directly onto your retinas so nobody knew if you flubbed an obscure line. Dan Hibiki considered himself the world's foremost expert on karoke, and to him, this machine was as sacred as the Turin Shroud. With no small amount of reverence, he ascended to the stage to belt out the inaugural number... "Awooooooooooo..." Wait. That tormented, saddened beastlike wail... he knew it well. Leaping from the stage and tucking into a ball, he flew safely over the heads of the Ultra fans who were pouring in, to land at the bar next to his big green friend. "Jimmy! Please, tell me what ails you so!" Dan pleaded. "I have never heard you so emotional about something. What is the problem, good friend?" Blanka turned to look at Dan, already halfway through a gin and tonic. His orange mane was uncombed and messy -- a natural state, but it seemed even moreso than usual. "Awoooooo," Blanka explained. "Awoo awooo GRRRR grlf awoooo... a- wooooooo!" Dan went pale. "FIRED?!! Nabiki Tendo fired you and Cham-Cham?" "Awoo." "Yohko as well?! Such... such atrocity!" Dan declared, clenching a fist. "How dare she?! You are an integral part of Ultra! Without you, the show would no longer be... it would not be as green, for starters! This shall not go unavenged!!!!" "What's all that yelling about?!-- oh. It's you." Dan turned to face the voice... finding himself looking at Dark Schneider, who came today accompanied by two lovely ladies in entirely too little clothing. "Aww, Darshu-sama, it's just the pink wonder," one of them cooed, tracing a finger along the totally ripped muscles under his 'DON'T CALL ME DARCHU' t-shirt. "Let him go, he's nothing compared to you." "Is that so?" Dan asked, letting his voice get all spooky and whispery. "Dark Schneider... you and I have conflicted in recent times. I do not wish to taint this joyous occasion with hostilities. Begone from my sight, and leave me to console my friend." "Yeah, I heard Miss Tendo fired his useless green ass," Darshu laughed. "Awww, the Pokemon's drinking his life away! That's rich. Freaks like him don't belong alongside Olympian-godlike bodies like mine. Him and that twisted little lolita catgirl." "At least I am not defending my belt against someone who was hired just to fake a loss to me," Dan replied. "Darshu, you honorless DOG! You have no respect for that title you carry. If I, Dan Hibiki, must teach you manners than so be it! Let us step outside, and--" "*GUNSNROH!*" A fireball as tall as a midget wrestler flared from Dark Schneider's hand... and past Dan. With a whimpering 'awoo', Blanka fell off his stool, smoking and crispy. "Damn, I missed," Darshu joked. "I guess it was being up all night with you fine young things that put me off my game. You're all big on honor, Dan, maybe now isn't the best time to challenge me." Manly tears streamed down Dan's mighty cheeks. "JIMMY!!! NOOOO!!!!!!" he cried out, with entirely too many exclamation marks. "Hey, mistakes happen. Don't worry. I can till kick the crap out of you once and for all after the big event. I've been meaning to take care of your loose end for awhile now. Until then... go sing your karoke, Dan. Ladies, shall we retire to a love hotel? This place just stopped being my scene... *A LUCARIA, DIMENSIONAL SHIFT!*" "CURSE YOU!" Dan shouted, diving for the mage... only to grab air. Darshu and his friends were gone. The fingers on his right hand slowly curled. The forearm came up. The tears intensified. "Darshu... I'll never forgive you!" Dan declared to everybody around him. "I will avenge Jimmy, and teach you to respect the pure soul of a warrior! I, Dan Hibiki, swear by it! OYAJIIIIII!!!!" Ultra fans around him burst into spontaneous applause. Blanka gave a weak little thumbs up, before collapsing for a few hours. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** In Heaven, you never have to get hurt. You never have to sweat and you never have to sleep, and you never have to eat and you never die. Paradise has its advantages. Lina, however, was sweaty, hungry, tired, and aching all over. She decided to turn off those advantages in favor of a more realistic workout that would reflect her true upcoming mortal battle... a workout that was lasting several days, so far. She held her sword up, but it was dipping a little compared to when she started her training... point wobbling and wavering from her exhaustion. Metal scraped metal, as Gourry slid his own blade back into its sheath. "That's enough, Lina. Let's get some dinner and you NEED some rest--" "I don't have time to rest," Lina said, shaking her head. "I'll just use an Enertron. I've gotta keep going, Gourry." "Lina... let me be frank. I hate to say this, because I know you don't want to hear it, but..." Gourry trailed off. He swallowed hard before continuing. "You're not going to beat Cloud. You're okay with a sword, but it takes YEARS of training to get as good as he is. His sword has a weight advantage you can't compensate for. I don't think you're going to win this duel as easily as you--" "I know it'll be hard. I know it'll be nearly impossible," Lina said. "But I have to do it, Gourry. This is the only way to get him off my back. And... and I've got faith." "Well, of course you have faith. You're god, after all." "I don't mean in myself, I mean in someone else," Lina explained, having a seat on the floor to rest a moment. "Metatron. I know, I know you and Belldandy and everybody else think I'm off my rocker trusting such a wild unknown... but I haven't lived this long without some pretty damn sharp instincts, Gourry. As sharp as your sword. My bet is that Metatron has some plan that he needs me there for. Something important." "So you think it's all a ruse?" Gourry asked, confused. "Maybe. I don't know. But I have to BE there, Gourry. I can't no show something that could be this important. I don't want another Third Impact." "You don't have to have one, then! I mean, it's simple. Just... you know... don't blow up the universe and stuff." "It's not as easy as that. As long as this power can be abused, it CAN be abused. It might be outside of my control. I think the chaos at Third Impact proved that -- we barely pulled out of that mess, and I'm supposedly omnipotent! Now... I don't need you to train me enough to beat Cloud. I need you to train me enough to SURVIVE against Cloud long enough for whatever to happen to happen." "That's pretty risky, Lina," Gourry commented. "With swords, battles can be over in a split second. One false move, one opening, and you die. It's not a matter of outlasting, it's a matter of having enough skill to avoid being outmanuvered." He was the right man for the job, Lina thought. Dumb as a box of hammers, the brains of a jellyfish... but the finest swordsman that ever lived. And if she didn't come out of this alive, he'd never forgive himself. That was the problem. So, simply put... she had to survive. "Let's focus on defense," Lina suggested, getting back to her feet. "Assuming I can't really kill Cloud, let's get me to the point where I can keep him from killing me. And dinner can wait. As shocking as it sounds... some things are more important than food." ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** Swords. Quite possibly the stupidest weapon ever invented, in Xelloss's view. The whole idea was to jam a metal bit into your opponent, but there were FAR more efficient ways of killing than that. Was magic that hard to learn? All you needed to do then was swiftly overpower your enemy, and... Bah, stray thoughts distracting him. What he needed now was to react to the world around him, adapt, prepare. He would have a very small time window in which to grab all the goods, and he wanted to take firm advantage of it. Cloud Strife, Lord of Hell and Father of Lies just wanted to swing a sword around. Up and down, up and down. Useless. Yet to protest it would be to encourage Cloud not to take this opportunity, this chance Xelloss would have at reclaiming the power he once gave to the Orochi (who then ruined his chances). He had to go along with it. And yet... "More tea?" Aerith asked, pouring another cup. "You need your strength for the battle, Cloud. You mustn't get dehydrated." "Thank you, Aerith my love," Cloud spoke, the words like honey from his smiling lips. "I would enjoy another cup of--" "Could be poisoned," Xelloss commented in aside. "I've warned you twice already about saying unkind words of my Aerith," Cloud spoke out, not looking at his Mazoku companion. "Do not make me warn you a third time." "I don't see why she needs to be up and about," Xelloss complained. "She did perfectly well hanging in chains in her cell. She's too dangerous, Cloud. Surely even YOU can see that?" "I see... I see a loyal friend, and my one true love," Cloud spoke, as he ran his eyes up and down Aerith (who was too busy pouring tea to notice). "Her plan of dueling Lina Inverse is brilliant. Surely, Aerith, you are behind me in this?" "I am," Aerith replied. "Unless Lina manages to defeat you. If you can stop her, I will stay by your side. I've given my word." "Then I see no need to treat her as a prisoner," Cloud said, resuming his strength-training of swinging that huge sword around. "Her education has worked. She is now on our side. Isn't that what you wanted all along, Xelloss?" "Oh, yes indeedy," Xel lied. He was hoping her mind or body would crack and he wouldn't have to worry about her out and about and turning Cloud against him. This whole situation smelled badly, even if it was an opportunity he couldn't forgo. And yet... There was a worry. WHY Aerith wanted this, this specific arrangement. There were factors Xelloss was not fully aware of. He would have to become aware of them fast, adapt, and adjust his game plan on the eve of the event. One chance. One final chance to make the grade and fulfil the Mazoku dream. At least if he failed, he wouldn't have to report to Zelas-Metallum. A brief chuckle escaped his lips. He was his own man now. It was so relaxing, to have all the irritation of your incompetent superiors off your shoulders. For all the problems he faced, he remained largely care free. Minor frustrations like this would arise, but he could deal with them in time. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** Frustration. Frustration and irritation, yes, those were the two feelings occupying Doctor Tofu's time lately. Oh, he bore no ill will towards his patient whatsoever. If anything, his patient was more patient than he was... and more than willing to try every method in the book to recall her memory. And that's what was so frustrating. He'd tried to talk her out of it twice before realizing Kasumi wanted this with every fiber of her being -- even if she didn't know WHY. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to raise the subject again of disobeying this Metatron person. This was still Kasumi... loveable, sweet Kasumi. Kasumi, who he hoped to make his bride one day (soon). Who he couldn't deny anything in the world... But whenever she wasn't looking, he was a bundle of nerves. Getting involved in the war between Heaven and Hell, especially after Third Impact...! It was ridiculously dangerous. It could get her killed. And he had to help her, because he didn't have the heart not to-- Dripdrip. He sighed, as he realized he'd overwatered one of his plants. That's what you get for squeezing too hard on the trigger, he thought, setting the spray bottle down. That's what comes of nerves. He was usually so relaxed, so calm... or at least was nowadays after getting over his shyness around Kasumi... "Doctor?" Kasumi asked, knocking on the frame of his office door. She slipped off her coat, and folded her umbrella. "Good morning... I'm ready to try again." Tofu set the spray bottle down. "Okay. I've done a little more research, and I'd like to try a different hypnosis technique today..." One which failed miserably. Two hours passed with no results. That's the frustration, that's the irritation, he thought. Being helpless to help his only love get herself further in danger, and seeing how upset that made her... "I wish I hadn't forgotten so much," Kasumi spoke, clearly tired from the efforts. "When I lost the godhead, a lot of the knowledge that went with it left me. Akane once asked me what my 'big plans' were... and I couldn't remember why I did things. But there had to be a good reason at the time, right?" "I can't imagine you doing anything without a good reason, Kasumi-chan," the doctor smiled weakly. Needing something to do, something to fill the time until her next attempt, he took up watering the plants again. "It's not in your character. Is that normal? That you forget things when you lose the godhead?" "I suppose so. I never really asked, but it seemed to make sense....." Insert pause. "Hmm? Kasumi?" Doctor Tofu asked, looking over. "Is something wrong?" "When..." she asked eyes open as she pointed to the plant. "When did you get..." "Oh, it's a fern," he explained. "Mother sent it over. She's always had a green thumb... I suppose I get mine from her. I didn't think you could pass on that kind of thing in genetics--" ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** "--you understand," Kasumi explained as she sat behind her desk, "You're not to pass on the godhead immediately. A worthy successor must be found first." "Oh, I understand," he spoke. "I understand perfectly. It's far too dangerous to leave lying around, and too risky to pick a successor out of a hat... I'm sure one will emerge. I actually have a few ideas about how to find a good one, but... that's for later. Assuming I even NEED to find one." "I'm hoping it won't come to that. If Dan wins his fight against Marlo, it won't come to that. But if he loses, and Jack takes on the mantle... the godhead must be hidden from him. He's not ready for it. There's still selfishness and jealousy in his heart against me, and against Ultra. Once he comes to accept his new role as head booker, and appreciates Ultra for what it is, perhaps he could be worthy... but perhaps not. I don't know, Xelloss. I'm flying by wire on this one." "You can count on me," the smiling priest spoke. "I'll ensure the godhead is in good hands. Have I ever failed you in the past, Kasumi? I came all the way from my world just to help you." "And you're certain your employer won't miss you? I'm going to need you to work with me long-term on this, Xelloss. Who is your employer again, actually? I don't think you ever mentioned her name--" "Oh, she won't miss me. Doesn't even know I'm here," Xelloss joked. "Now... pass on the godhead, and I'll handle things. I know the perfect hiding place. A very ironic one!" "I can't know about it, Xelloss. Jack could get that information out of me if he wins and I'm working for him," Kasumi reminded. "I trust you to do what's right..." Closing her eyes, she focused on pulling the greater part of herself away from her mortal soul. It was a painful process, and yet soothing... as if she was setting down a great burden. The burden was a simple white spark, lighter than a feather, but it held more power than the world had ever seen before... Xelloss stuffed it up his sleeve, where it glowed slightly. He saluted, and faded to shadow... reappearing somewhere in the Ultradome, down in Hell. (Where he bumped into Dan, who was en route to the main event, but that's another story.) With a heavy sigh, she sat back in her chair. One part of the task was now complete. Now... the part she hadn't told Xelloss about. The part she had told no one about... She rolled her chair over to the potted fern near her filing cabinet, and carefully lifted the plant from its holder to reveal the greatest kept secret in the universe. It was a secret she learned when she first took on the godhead. It was passed on in silence from one god to the next, left in its special hiding place, in such an absurdly normal hidey hole that nobody would have thought to look there. It wasn't like Heaven had a night janitor, after all. In the shadowed depths of the dirty pot anti-glowed The Answer. Reaching out carefully, she took up the spark of non-light, and with a shaking hand, pressed it to her heart. It sank into her body, finding its new hiding place warm and inviting. Just in case, she thought. Just in case EVERYTHING goes wrong. ...in case... ...in case what goes wrong? What was it that was just in case? Her head fogged, as memories started to drop through tiny holes in her mind. It's affecting me, she thought. Because I just held the godhead and now I hold this, and this is not that and that is not this, it's a side effect of... of what? What was she worried about? In a moment, the feeling passed, and she left her office. UltraRage Beta was in progress, and soon she'd know her fate. Xelloss could be trusted. Everything would turn out fine. She didn't need a worst case plan, and didn't have one, anyway. Not one she remembered. Kasumi-- ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** "--KASUMI!" The lights here were different than the lights in her office. Softer. More blurry... "What happened?" a familiar girl's voice asked. "Jeez, I leave you mortals alone for a few days to take care of business and she has a seizure. Can you fix her? Like, give her a pill or something?" A bright light flashed in her eyes... and she saw Tofu. He clicked off his penlight, and pocketed it. "She's coming around," he said. "Kasumi! Can you hear me?" "...yes?" Kasumi guessed. "You had an episode. Similar to the one you had the first time you tried to remember, but much worse," Tofu explained. "Don't try to get up. Just rest a moment, that probably took a lot out of you..." "So where is it?" Metatron asked, squatting down next to her. "Time's running out here. We need it by next week, I made the arrangements with Heaven and Hell and I even got a good suggestion for where it'll go down from Gokuu, who knows some old war god with a nice locale outside of time--" "Please, just... just a second," Kasumi said, unable to deal with the overload of information. She focused her mind, and held on tight to that recovered memory. "I found it... I found the answer. I know what it is." "I really hope it's what I think it is, or I just arranged a pretty useless fight," Metatron said, adding a silent prayer of hope. "It's the opposite of the godhead," Kasumi spoke, trying to sit up. "The pure opposite. Whatever the godhead makes... it destroys. All the gods from the first onward kept it hidden under a plant in the main office, and tried not to think of using it. It's a terrible weapon that I was afraid would fall into the hands of someone who could misuse it, if it wasn't protected... but I knew if I could keep it safe, maybe I could use it, just in case something went wrong..." "Something like Jack getting the godhead? Or Orochi winning it in a brawl? Or Third Impact, maybe?" Metatron asked sarcastically. "Would've been great for you to remember this earlier, you know--" "Hey, ease off, okay?" Tofu asked (harshly). "If it's an anti-godhead, it sounds incredibly dangerous. I mean, it could destroy the universe, right?" "Mortals," Metatron grumbled. "Of course not! The universe is more durable than you imagine. All it would do is unmake the creations of the godhead, the problematic things that the 'gods' from day one laid on top of an already perfect system. Things like Yggdrasil. The Deed to Hell and Hell itself... and even Heaven. This is EXACTLY what we need!" "She's right," Kasumi agreed. "That's why it was dangerous. You could SELECTIVELY unmake things... such as erasing Heaven and leaving Hell alone, or worse... but it needs to be joined to the godhead to work. It won't work on its own." "Why would anybody want to erase Heaven or Hell?" Doctor Tofu asked. "Don't we need those things? Where would dead people go?" Metatron sighed. "Listen... there's something important here you're not grasping. History. When the Universe made itself, it was perfect. Everything worked from the first second that ever existed onward. But there was one problematic bit, something called 'the godhead'... too powerful for its own good, capable of turning a perfect system into a flawed system if used improperly. Once I retired, the godhead was taken up by a mortal who made himself god... he created Heaven and Hell, and the entire system you guys are familiar with. But it wasn't NEEDED! The dead people go where the dead people go and that's all you're going to learn (until you die, I mean). Satan was a mistake, Heaven was a mistake... everything that godhead has spawned has caused you people nothing but problems." "...I'm not really a religious man, but that's still making me pretty uncomfortable," Doctor Tofu said. "You mean God doesn't exist?" "Oh, He exists. I wouldn't be here now otherwise. God is all around us, God is existence, the sum of the Universe. He exists in a form no mortal will ever wholly understand," Metatron explained. "But that's okay. Without faith in God, in whatever form that faith takes, there is nothing but chaos. Pretty obvious, I'd hazard... but Heaven and Hell? Cute idea, but now everybody knows about Heaven and Hell, because they were rational systems all along. The only 'faith' involved was 'not having all the facts'." "Just like Third Impact was a system," Kasumi added. "A system of... of man's ascension or a remaking of everything, I don't remember, but I read about it in the files once... it seemed more like a badly designed project than a miracle." "Exactly, Kasumi. All the major problems threatening creation are mistakes made by mortals using the godhead. I mean, fights for the godhead? Third Impact? Great floods, plagues, miracles, holy wars, the apocalypse, boy bands, non-alcoholic beer... it's all directly or indirectly stemming off a power that's been abused. The answer to creation's hope to continue to exist is to snuff out the power that has only one possible culmination -- apocalypse." "It's in man's nature to destroy itself," Tofu said. "Thank you for that bit of cheap Hollywood sci-fi morality," Metatron scoffed. "But in general, yes. Make man into a god and you can't expect anything good in the long run. Now, we have the answer. We can set everything right. But... to do that, we need the godhead to fuse to the anti-godhead. Right?" "That's right," Kasumi confirmed. "Without it, there's no chain reaction. You need both elements, plus someone to control and direct the decompiling of the godhead's works..." "Preferably not someone like Xelloss." "I was too trusting," Kasumi said, looking down. "Xelloss was a Mazoku: a creature of pure will and spirit that can't use the power of another being. I figured it would be safe with him, since he can't use the godhead's power. I didn't count on him manipulating others to use the power for him. I'm sorry..." "Don't worry, we're golden now. I made the arrangements. Lina and Cloud are going to show up at Gokuu's selected battlefield at the brink of time," Metatron said, smirking knowledgeably. "They've agreed to shuck the deed and the godhead before fighting. Gokuu will work with us, we'll get the decompiling done right, and the Universe will be safe once more. Mankind can live out its days in peace and security, at least until they nuke each other into the Stone Age by perfectly ordinary and healthy mortal means. Sound good?" "Everything except the last part," Doctor Tofu agreed. "So... where's the 'answer' now?" Kasumi continued to look at the floor. "...it's inside me," she spoke. "So take it out," Metatron suggested. "When I was god, removing the godhead hurt me," she continued. "Since I was immortal before it fully left, I could withstand it. I'm an ordinary mortal now. I didn't realize this would be a problem before I took on the 'answer', but... removing something just as powerful as the godhead from my soul will... will kill me." Insert another pause. "And here I thought things were going so well," Metatron spoke quietly. Thunder began to slowly roll outside the window, as the storm had only just begun. -=- TO BE CONTINUED AT ULTRARAGE EPSILON! GRUDGE MATCH: RANMA vs. RANMA-CHAN HARDCORE TITLE: AKANE vs. MARLO at WCW Nitro HANDICAP MATCH: SHINGO vs. CYBERAKUMA II GAMMA TITLE: MORRIGAN vs. WOLVERINE LAMBDA TITLE: TEAM ROCKET vs. DISCIPLES OF THE VOID OMEGA TITLE: DARSHU vs. YUFFIE UNFAIR MATCH: CONTROVERSIAL JACK and DAISUKE vs. MOUSSE and SHAMPOO and KUNOU and HAOHMARU LOSER LEAVES CREATION: LINA vs. CLOUD SPECIAL BONUS OMAKE! Other items on the UltraTokyo Karoke Bar and Grill Menu, courtesy of Jendela: Nabiki Pops Voiduck a l'Orange Chocolate Mousee Johnny Cake Ash Ketchup Hsien-Cocoa Puffs Candy Bogard Dan Hibachi Jifurita Naga the White Syrup