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                 Episode 75:  Going Undercover
                 Written by:  Grayson Towler

                 MTCFF Ultra Created By:  Twoflower


The hotel room lay in ruins.

Detective Lei Wulong surveyed the wreckage around him in shock 
and dismay - curtains torn, chairs smashed to kindling, the bed 
tossed into the corner of the lush penthouse suite like a 
discarded cheese sandwich.  The only pieces of furniture left 
intact in the midst of this chaos were the television stand in 
the corner and the chair positioned in front of it.

A man slumped in the chair, the glow of the television 
silhouetting his sprawled figure in a flickering dance of color.

"Johnny?" Lei called.  "Johnny Cage?  Is that you?"

The detective covered the floor in quick, graceful strides, 
neatly sidestepping the scattered piles of debris.  The figure in 
the chair was indeed Johnny Cage.  Lei took one look at the actor 
and drew a sharp breath.

Somebody had worked Johnny Cage over pretty thoroughly.  The 
wreckage in the room and the bruises on the actor told the story 
to Lei Wulong's experienced eye.  There had been a fight, a 
serious fight, between Johnny and somebody who really knew what
they were doing.  Cage's real-life fighting skills had never 
quite measured up to his on-screen performances, but it would 
have taken an exceptionally skilled warrior to do this to the 
superstar.  

"Hold on, Johnny!" Lei implored.  He began to dial for an 
ambulance, but he had seen a lot of injuries in his time on the 
streets.  It didn't look like Johnny Cage was going to pull 
through this one.

"Lei...?" croaked the action hero.  In spite of the pummeling 
he'd clearly endured, he still wore his expensive sunglasses.  
"Is that... you?"

"I'm here," Lei assured him.  "The paramedics are on their way."  
When the actor had called him on the phone earlier that evening, 
Lei had thought he sounded kind of strung out.  Cage had told him 
that he needed to see him, urgently, but hadn't given any 
explanation as to why.  Lei hadn't realized that it was a matter 
of life or death.  "Just hang in there, Johnny," the detective 
told him.  "You're gonna be all right."

"Lei..." Johnny's voice came out as a hoarse wheeze.   "It was... 
fun..."

"Fun?" Lei repeated, confused.  He knelt close to Cage, to better 
catch the actor's words as his breath grew shallow.  "What 
happened here, Johnny?"

Cage smiled at him weakly.  "I have been... and always shall 
be... your friend."

"Yeah, okay," Lei agreed, a little embarrassed.  He thought that 
was rather an exaggeration.  While he'd still served on the beat 
in Hong Kong, Lei had worked as a martial arts consultant for 
three of Johnny's movies - "Return of the Groovy Master," "Valley 
of the Pugilists Part V," and the inexplicable "We Meet Again, 
Pupurun."  Their professional relationship had been tolerable 
enough, though he privately thought Johnny was a prima donna of 
the first order.  He would have hardly labeled Johnny as a 
friend, but now was not really the time to say so.  "Listen, 
Johnny," he tried again.  "Who did this to you?"

"I would have liked... to have seen... Montana..."

Lei blinked in confusion.  "What?"

"Lei!" Johnny rasped.  His breath was beginning to fail.  "There 
is... another... Sky...walker..."

The detective growled in frustration.  "Will you knock it off with
the damned death scene lines for a second, Cage?" he snapped angrily.
"Now who did this?  WHO?"

With the last of his strength, Johnny Cage lifted his finger and 
pointed towards the flickering screen of the television.  "Ul... 
tra..." he whispered.

And then, he was gone.

Lei checked for Johnny's pulse and sighed as he found nothing.  
On the screen, a re-run of the last episode of Ultra had begun to 
play.  Lei watched the opening montage, the faces of numerous 
fighters flashing large across the screen.  "Ultra," he said 
softly.  Johnny hadn't managed to tell him who'd killed him, but 
he had narrowed it down.

The photos of the fighters formed into a mosaic on the screen, 
and the bold logo of MTCFF Ultra appeared in a storm of computer-
generated pyrotechnics.  

"One of you did it," Lei said to the luminous faces on the 
television.  The sirens of the ambulances blared somewhere out on 
the street.  "But which one?  Who killed Johnny Cage?"

- - - - - 

The great observatory of the Daitokuji mansion featured an 
absolutely stunning view of Graviton City at night.  The two 
figures who stood upon the open-air platform looked out across 
the glittering lights of the city in silence, then as one turned 
their eyes to the stars.  B-ko had discovered that these long, 
quiet moments were simply a part of her darling Sephiroth's makeup, 
and she'd learned to enjoy them.

Finally, the Son of Jenova spoke.

"Are your preparations complete?" he asked in a silky voice.

"A few minor adjustments," she assured him.  "But it will all be 
ready in time."

"You are certain?" Sephiroth turned his luminous eyes to gaze at 
her.  "Washuu is not to be underestimated.  If she detects you 
beforehand..."

"It's all right," B-ko said.  "Washuu is undeniably brilliant, 
but she makes the same mistake that many intelligent people do - 
she assumes that everybody else is stupid.  She's too confident 
that her security is unbreachable.  It is she who has 
underestimated me, my love."

"That's good," Sephiroth said.  She thought she heard a hint of 
melancholy in his tone.

"Darling," she hazarded, "are you... planning to kill that 
child?"  Normally, the murder of children was beyond B-ko's 
ruthlessness threshold, but she knew that there was something 
special about Washuu's daughter.  She didn't understand what 
Sephiroth wanted with the girl, but she knew he must have his 
reasons.

"She cannot be killed," the ex-SOLDIER told her.  

"Then her power... can you take it?"

"No," he said with a sigh.  "No, my dear.  I now know that such a 
thing is impossible, even for me.  I realized this truth after my 
battle last week, and then I understood what I must do."

"Oh?" He hadn't talked about why he forfeited the match against 
that absurd Dan Hibiki.  She listened earnestly.

"Following my victory, I sensed the truth.  I had suspected it 
after she survived the Masamune, but now I know for certain.  That
child is not merely a holder of the divine power, as the others
were before her.  She IS the power made flesh.  Though I am 
loathe to admit it, I cannot usurp her." Sephiroth closed his
eyes and smiled sadly to himself.

"Then what will you do?" B-ko asked quietly.

"The next best thing," the One-Winged Angel answered.

"My love?"

His voice became sharper and stronger as he spoke.  "I know the 
course I must take.  I'm counting on you to take care of Washuu 
for me.  Leave the girl to me."

"As you wish, darling," B-ko said, then leaned against his 
shoulder.  She didn't know what Sephiroth planned to do, but that 
didn't matter.  He trusted her.  He relied on her to help him.  
That was all she really wanted.

- - - - -

Controversial Jack's office was an ongoing enigma to the Ultra 
staff, and the Great Yaga found it to be a tedious inconvenience.  
It wasn't enough that the man had to redecorate on a whim - 
sometimes several times per day.  Jack also has a tendency to 
pick up and relocate to a different space somewhere in the 
building whenever he fancied. It meant that one was compelled 
to ask directions every time one wanted to visit the Head Booker 
of Ultra.

Today, it seemed Jack had decided to situate himself in one of 
the supply closets.  His entire workspace - furniture, laptop 
computer, file cabinet, bird bath for his rubber duck, clay idol 
to the Hindu goddess Kali - hovered three feet off the ground, 
suspended by heavy chains dangling from the ceiling.  The crew of 
This Old Dojo simply arranged their supplies in the hallway 
outside, so they wouldn't have far to move them when Jack Lysias 
inevitably relocated again.

Idiocy, thought Yaga.  

Jack looked up from his chess game with Mr. Duck as Yaga entered.  
"Ah!" he called down from his elevated perch.  "Yaga.  There you 
are.  Do you remember how these horsey pieces are supposed to 
move?  I think Mr. Duck is cheating."

"That isn't my concern," Yaga informed him stiffly.  "I am here 
to arrange my match for the upcoming show."

"Oh.  Not a social visit?"

"Certainly not."

Jack shrugged, then shot a stern look at Mr. Duck.  "Don't you 
rearrange the pieces while I'm busy, you hear?"

>SQUEAK!< Mr. Duck retorted, rather indignantly.  

"Right."  The Head Booker hopped down from his office space, 
snatching a clipboard on the way down.  "Okee-dokee, Yaga my man.  
What have you got in mind?"

"Li Ping," Yaga told him.  He raised a hand before Jack could say 
anything.  "Now, I know what you're going to say.  You want to 
milk the rivalry.  You want to play it for ratings.  I 
sympathize, sir, but there is a flaw in your logic."

"Oh?" Jack asked.  He seemed amused that the term "logic" had 
been applied to him.

"This... rivalry," Yaga asserted, "is a weak one.  Weak, because 
Li Ping is obviously an inferior fighter.  He is a child addicted 
to action movies, nothing more.  Barely qualified for NeoFighters - 
certainly not prime time material.  There are others in Ultra 
far more worthy of my skill and stature, yet so long as this 
rivalry with the ridiculous Li Ping exists, it diverts focus away 
from bigger and better things."

"So you want to cream Li Ping and get it over with?" Jack 
supplied.

"Indeed.  You see the matter clearly now." Yaga nodded with 
approval.  "Once I demonstrate the boy's ineptitude, the audience 
will tire of his clownish antics.  You and Ms. Tendou will be 
free to hand him his pink slip and offer his contract to some 
more worthy competitor."

"Well," Jack said, consulting his clipboard, "I guess you got it 
all figured out.  Anyway, you shouldn't have any trouble beating 
Li Ping, what with his neck in that brace and all."

"Brace?" Yaga asked warily.

"Oh yeah," Jack informed him casually.  "Hurt himself training.  
I hear he watched 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' nineteen times 
in a row and just about broke his neck bouncing off the rafters.  
Severe whiplash or something.  Anyway, that should make it a snap 
for you."  Jack began to scribble on his paper.

"A moment." Yaga interrupted Jack's writing.  The big wrestler 
grimaced.  He wanted to crush Li Ping, but beating up on an 
invalid in the ring was certain to draw nothing but disdain from 
the crowd.  He could not afford to look like a bully.  "The boy 
may be a joke, but it would be unfair to force him to fight while 
seriously injured.  Let us consider a different match for this 
show."

"Whatever you say," Jack said agreeably.  "You're still gonna 
want the headliner spot, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, how about a title shot at Gamma?" the spiky-haired booker 
offered.

Yaga felt his heart clench.  He had nothing but the greatest 
confidence in his skills, but he was no idiot.  A fight against 
that monster Sagat was not something he felt prepared to face.  
He coughed and tried not to stammer.  "A generous offer, Jack.  
But... er... not entirely appropriate..."

"Oh?" Jack asked, cocking his head attentively.  

"Yes, well... you need to keep Ultra's greater interests in 
mind," Yaga told him.  "The Gamma Belt is perhaps the most 
coveted prize in the federation.  It would be... unadvisable to 
allow it to change hands so soon after Sagat earned the title."

"Hmm."  Controversial Jack frowned thoughtfully.  "I see the 
point."

Yaga breathed a sigh of relief.  In spite of his terror at the 
prospect of facing Sagat, he found himself pleasantly surprised 
by the Head Booker's attitude.  He had thought that every 
interaction with the man would turn into a power struggle, but it 
seemed that Jack had finally begun to respect his experience and 
authority in matters of sports entertainment.  It was a big 
improvement - Jack Lysias would be far more useful as an ally 
than an adversary.

"Let us consider, for a moment, who might be suitable for this 
match," Yaga said.  It was time to make an overture of friendship 
- let the man have his input.  It would make him feel valuable.  
"Who do you think would make a worthy opponent?"

"Lemme see," Jack murmured, making a show of checking over his 
list.  "Well, it'll have to be someone popular."

"Naturally."

"And the audience is getting a kick out of this young-old stuff 
you've got going," the Head Booker noted.  "How about... James.  
>From the Team-Formerly-Known-As-Rocket."

"James," Yaga mulled.  The idea had potential.  Cut off from 
support from his partner, James would be at a severe 
disadvantage.  And Yaga had seen the boy fight before.  A 
squealing coward lurked beneath that blow-dried, preening 
exterior.  Traditionally, the audience despised nothing so much 
as a coward - if he could make this James show his true colors 
in the ring, the crowd would surely turn on him.  And as James's 
star fell, Yaga's own would rise.  An appealing vision.

But there was one matter of concern.  Yaga had very little 
familiarity with these Pokemon creatures that James used to fight 
for him.  To arrange a stipulation in which the boy could not use 
his little pets would make the match too lopsided - again, Yaga 
had no wish to seem a bully.  So...

"I might accept such a match," Yaga told Jack.  "However, I have 
a condition."

"Oh?"

"Better preparation allows me to put on a better show," the 
veteran wrestler declared.  "I wish to see documentation 
regarding these Pokemon animals that James uses.  A detailed 
description of each one."

"I suppose I could swing that."

"And those of his partner," Yaga added.  If the boy knew he was 
fighting alone, he might bring extra ammunition.  He seemed to 
have a certain base cunning.  However, Yaga knew that each of 
these Pokemon had some sort of weakness.  With the proper 
information, he could prepare himself to deal with each of them, 
no matter what creature James decided to cower behind in the 
ring.

"A detailed Pokemon FAQ," Jack said.  "You betcha.  So that's 
what you want, then?"

"I believe that will be sufficient," Yaga told him.  Jessie and 
James still might try something unexpected, but Yaga had his own 
allies to help contend with such emergencies.  "A match with the 
Pokemon trainer, James.  Very good."

"Right-o," Jack chirped.  "That'll be all?"

"Yes, I believe so."  He favored Jack with a broad smile, and 
even executed a very slight bow.  "This has been a very pleasant 
meeting, Mr. Lysias.  I hope we can continue to have a mutually 
beneficial relationship."  

With that, Yaga exited the supply closet.  Jack watched the door 
close behind the one-time champion, his eyes glittering with 
mischievous glee.  "Pleasure's all mine, big guy," he muttered.

- - - - -

Saotome Ranma shuffled his foot against the worn wooden floor of 
the Tendou Dojo and chewed his lip nervously.  A few months ago, 
this wouldn't have been so hard.  But things had been different 
between himself and Akane since they'd partnered up in Ultra, and 
now he found himself thinking more about whether he was going to 
hurt her feelings or not.  

He was pretty sure he'd just done that.

"So... you don't want to be a team anymore?" Akane asked in a 
quiet voice.  "Is that what you're saying?"

"It's just temporary," Ranma assured her.  "I hate to admit it, 
but I ain't in shape to beat Sagat right now.  That guy's gonna 
take everything I got.  I... I gotta focus, Akane."

"On your training."

"Yeah.  On my training."  And on not having to watch over you all 
the time, he thought, but he didn't say it.  Somehow, he was 
pretty sure she understood that.

"And me?" she whispered, hiding her eyes under he bangs.

"Well... you should take a breather.  You know, get all healed 
and stuff."

"Are you saying," she asked softly, "that I shouldn't fight in 
Ultra?"

"Uh... for a while," the pig-tailed martial artist agreed.  
"Look, you've been kinda banged up, right?  Just give it some 
time.  I mean, you don't wanna go back in there and run into some 
freako like Vega or something, right?"

"Someone I couldn't handle without you, you mean," she said.

"No!" he denied quickly, though that was precisely what he meant.  
She knew it as well as he did.  "Just somebody you gotta be at 
full strength to beat, that's all.  I mean, there are a bunch 
of nut-cases in Ultra right now.  You can't... uh... you just 
need to be careful.  Okay?"

She stood before him, hands still at her sides, her eyes hidden 
from view beneath her bangs.  He really hoped she wasn't about 
to cry here.

Several quiet, tense seconds ticked by.

Then, abruptly, Akane looked up.  She wore a bright smile on her 
face, and her eyes showed not the slightest hint of tears.  She 
didn't even look angry.  The youngest Tendou reached out and 
clasped Ranma on the shoulder.  "You're right," she said firmly.

"I... uh... yeah?"

"Yeah."  The short-haired girl gave him a single, firm nod.  "Get 
out there and train your hardest, Ranma!"

"Oh.  Are... are you sure?" He really wanted to take this at face 
value, but he couldn't quite let it go at that.

She patted him on the arm a couple more times.  "I understand 
completely, okay? Don't you worry about me."

"If you're sure..."

"I'm sure!"

Ranma backed away, feeling both relieved and sort of unworthy.  
He felt like he was getting out of this too easy, but if she 
really didn't have a problem then he wasn't going to push it.  
"Well, all right!  I'm... uh... gonna go start trainin', 
okay?"

She made a small fist-pumping gesture.  "Do your best, Ranma!"

"Right.  Okay... see you later?"  

"See you later," she agreed.  

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth any more, Saotome 
Ranma scampered out of the dojo.

The moment he disappeared from sight, Akane's encouraging smile 
transformed into a bitter scowl.  She felt a stinging at the 
corners of her eyes, but she refused to acknowledge it.  Angry 
words paraded through her mind, but she knew better than to say 
them.  She'd argued with Ranma enough to finally realize that it 
got her nowhere.  If she pressed him on this one, he'd resort to: 
"I just don't want to see you get hurt." That's what he always 
did.

So what could she say to that?  It was very sweet in its own way, 
and she knew that it was true.  He did care about her.  He did 
want to protect her.

Tendou Akane, though, wanted to be the one protecting herself.  
And as much as Ranma had learned to be nice to her, as much as 
they'd learned to trust each other, he still didn't understand 
that.  Nothing she could say could get it through his thick 
skull.  All the words had been tried.  

It was time for a different approach.

- - - - -

Tendou Nabiki tapped a neatly manicured fingernail on the leather 
armrest of her office chair and frowned thoughtfully.  The 
speaker phone buzzed slightly as the technicians on the other end 
of the line waited for her comments.  After she finished her 
second viewing of the video they'd piped up to the big screen set 
in her office, she steepled her index fingers under her chin and 
spoke.

"Well," she said, "it's not entirely flattering."

"Uh..."

"Do we have any more footage of Cage doing something other than 
getting his ass kicked?" she asked politely.

The video technician made a disparaging noise.  "How short do you 
want this thing to be?"

"It's supposed to be a memorial piece," she explained.  "A 
tribute.  Perhaps we could make an effort to make him look good, 
just this once."

"Well..." the techs conferred, muttering to each other below the 
sensitivity range of the speaker phone.  "There are plenty of 
clips of him posing and stuff," they offered.

"How about a interspersing a few of Cage in action with those," 
she suggested.  "He did land a punch or two in his career, at 
least."

"Still might be kinda short..."

"Use slow motion.  Very slow motion."

"Yeah, that might work," the lead technician agreed.  "We'll get 
to work on it."

"Thank you."  Nabiki broke the connection and leaned back in her 
chair.  She tapped the remote control and brought up the evening 
news.  Cage's mysterious death had gotten a great deal of play on 
the networks, and she found herself somewhat curious about the 
ongoing drama.  

The cable news was showing an interview of Sophia.  Her mourning 
outfit didn't exactly call bereavement to mind, but it was, at 
least, all black.  She snuffled into a handkerchief, flanked by 
her bodyguards and agents, as the interviewer shoved a microphone 
in her face.

"I just... can't tell you how it feels," the leather-clad 
dominatrix moaned theatrically.  "I miss him so.  Oh, why did 
this have to happen?"

"So," the interviewer asked, "he meant a lot to you, then?"

"We shared a special bond," Sophia answered, then sobbed.  "I 
hope the world sees what a truly special man he was when we 
finish filming 'The Johnny Cage Story,' in which I, of course, 
shall be playing myself.  Once the film is in theatres, I think 
it will be a fitting..."

Her agent interrupted her, leaning close to whisper something 
into her ear.

Sophia's face transformed abruptly from her mask of grief to rank 
indignation.  "Straight to video?" she snapped angrily.  "Nobody 
told me this was going to be a straight to video release!  What 
kind of crap are they trying to pull?  My lawyer's going to hear 
about this..."

Nabiki hit the mute button.  

Nothing new, apparently, if they were wasting time on fluff like 
that.  It was sort of a pity about Cage, Nabiki reflected.  It 
might have been fun to bring him back for a little while to kick 
around in Ultra, under the right circumstances.  Even a loser 
could have value, if he was sufficiently entertaining.  'Oh 
well,' she thought.  'Couldn't afford to hire him right now 
anyway...'

Her intercom crackled to life.  "Ms. Tendou?" her secretary 
called.  "I have a Lieutenant Wulong from the police here to see 
you."

'Police?' Nabiki thought.  The name seemed vaguely familiar.  
"Please send him in."

The policeman moved with a silent, fluid grace that spoke volumes 
to an experienced observer like Nabiki.  He was a fighter, 
undoubtedly a very good one.  A handsome enough man, with a face 
that suggested a keen intellect, but she couldn't quite peg his 
age - late 30's, perhaps even early 40's.  His body was as fit as 
an Olympic gymnast's.  The detective's long ponytail swished 
behind him as he walked, and his sharp, piercing eyes scanned the 
room like laser sights.

Now she recognized him - she'd seen him on television and in the 
papers before.  They called him the "Super-cop," said he was 
absolutely fearless in tackling even the most dangerous 
criminals.  Nabiki didn't really follow law enforcement very 
closely, but even she knew that this man was something of a 
legend in the field.

Not that it actually made much of an impact on her.  The CEO of 
Ultra rubbed shoulders with demigods and heroes every day.  

"Please, have a seat, Lieutenant," she offered.  

"Thank you, Ms. Tendou."  He eased into the guest's chair, still 
scanning the room.

"You're a long way from Hong Kong," the Tendou girl noted.  "What 
brings you out here?"

He raised an eyebrow and smiled a bit - the look on his face said 
that he answered this question a lot.  "I had a bit of trouble 
with the new government in Hong Kong," he explained.  "It seemed 
like the best thing for everyone if I went on an extended 
exchange program.  I've gotten on quite well in Japan, thank 
you."

"Ah," she said.  "Well, Lieutenant, what can I do for you?"

Lei Wulong rose from his chair and began to wander slowly about 
the room.  Nabiki was accustomed to this - it seemed like most of 
her highly-trained fighters didn't like to sit still. 

The long-haired police officer nodded towards the silent 
television set, where a retrospective about Johnny Cage's movie 
career was currently running.  A few scenes from "Fists of 
Tungsten Carbide, Part 5," "The Terrible Tiger Strikes Back, 
Again" and "Even Bigger Trouble in Little Tibet" played across 
the screen.  

"Johnny Cage," Lei noted.  "Damn shame about what happened to 
him."

Nabiki shrugged.  "Yes, a pity."

"Had he been around here lately?" 

"On and off," she admitted.  "Mr. Cage frequently expressed a 
desire to return as an active fighter in Ultra."

Lei gave her a sidelong glance.  "But you didn't want him back?"

"I considered it," she told him.  "However, at the moment our 
company is attempting to run a leaner operation than in the past.  
There isn't much call for a designated jobber like Cage."

"'Jobber?'"

"An industry term," she clarified.  "It means he's a punching 
bag, basically."

He cocked a half-smile at her.  "You didn't think much of his 
skills, then?"

"Mr. Cage had certain attributes which made him of some value," 
Nabiki said, "but his actual fighting ability?  Please.  There 
isn't a fighter in Ultra who couldn't mop the floor with him.  
And we have some kids on staff who haven't even hit puberty."

"So you're saying," Lei responded casually, "that any one of them 
would have been capable of killing him?"

Nabiki felt goosebumps rise along her arms.  "Now WAIT a 
minute..."

"Do you deny it?"

"There's a lot of people who COULD have killed him," Nabiki shot 
back hotly.  "What makes you think one of my people did?"

The policeman put both hands on her desk and leaned forward, 
studying her face.  "We have evidence," he told her, "that Cage's 
killer was a member of your organization, Ms. Tendou.  It may 
have even been a joint effort between several people."

"That's ludicrous," the CEO snapped.  "What kind of evidence?"

"Enough evidence to warrant an investigation," the detective 
countered.  "It's an investigation that I intend to see happen, 
Ms. Tendou, in spite of Ultra's tendency to slip out from under 
the law."

"Slip... what do you mean?" This conversation had gotten very 
unpleasant very quickly, and Nabiki found herself stuck on the 
defensive.

"Ultra has a history of ignoring the law in favor of ratings," 
Lei said, his eyes blazing.  "Harboring criminals.  Destroying 
public property.  Defacing national treasures.  Blowing up 
certain well-known natural satellites.  Consorting with 
dictators..."

"Now WAIT a minute..."

"You're just lucky I don't enforce the laws of physics," the
detective said with a humorless smile.  "Then you'd be in REAL 
trouble, Ms. Tendou."

She scrambled to mount a response against this line of attack,
trying not to let her anger overcome her composure.  "In case you 
haven't been paying attention, Mr. Wulong, we were the ones who 
finally took down M. Bison!"

"Once he became inconvenient to you," Lei agreed.  "Milked him 
for ratings long enough though, didn't you?"

"Perhaps you're just upset because WE did something that YOUR 
people could never manage!" Nabiki hissed, locking eyes with her 
accuser.

"I'm upset," Lei barked, "because a man has been murdered, and 
I'm starting to think YOU are trying to protect his killer!"

"I'm trying to protect my show!" the young CEO of Ultra demanded.  
"I will not have this thing turn into a media circus!"

"Ultra is one big, ongoing media circus!  What are you so afraid 
of?"  He leaned farther forward, his voice growing more 
threatening.

This was getting too ugly.  Nabiki backed off from her staring 
match with the detective and composed herself.  "Wait a minute.  
Just... hold on."  She took a few deep breaths.

Lei Wulong pulled away as well, seemingly willing to break off 
the power struggle for the moment.  He leaned back against her 
book case and folded his arms across the front of his white 
shirt.  "I'm listening," he said.

"Lieutenant," she told him in a controlled voice, "I sympathize 
with your position.  I want to see Cage's killer brought to 
justice as much as you do.  Even if it is one of my fighters."

"Oh really?"

"Of course."  It wasn't entirely true, but it was the correct 
thing to say.  "However, you must consider my situation as well.  
What if you're wrong?  What if the killer isn't in Ultra?  A 
public investigation could cause serious harm to my company's 
reputation, Mr. Wulong.  It took a great deal of our resources to 
fend off and finally defeat M. Bison," she said, wanting to 
reiterate that point.  "We cannot afford to endure this kind of 
bad press.  Who knows how long an investigation like this could 
last?"

He mulled this over.  Nabiki felt relieved that he didn't simply 
dismiss her concerns - maybe his evidence wasn't as strong as he 
wanted her to think, and he wasn't really in a position to force 
the issue if she did try to go over his head.  Ultra did enjoy a 
certain leeway from the higher-ups, because it was such an 
economic force.  Maybe she had more leverage here than he wanted 
her to believe.

"So what are you asking here, Ms. Tendou?" 

"I want discretion," she told him.  "I will cooperate with an 
investigation, so long as it does not publicly harm my 
corporation."

He inhaled deeply, then gave her a slow nod.  "All right.  I 
think I can work with that." 

Nabiki wasn't finished.  "If you don't mind me saying, sir, you 
tend to draw the media's eye.  Perhaps it would be best if 
someone a bit less recognizable were to handle the case?"

That clearly didn't make him happy.  "This is my case," he 
informed her firmly.  "We'll keep things discreet, but you do not 
have the authority to tell us who gets run this investigation."

"And how do you plan to be discreet, Mr. Wulong?" the young 
businesswoman queried.  "If your face appears on camera, people 
will start to wonder why.  That's unacceptable."

Lei frowned hard, but then an idea seemed to occur to him.  A wry 
smile crept onto his face.  "Not unless I hide in plain sight.  
What if I had a reason to be on camera, Ms. Tendou?"

"A reason?"

"What if I were one of your fighters?" Lei suggested, raising his 
forefinger.

Nabiki blinked.  Her first reflex, as always, was to think about 
money.  "We can't afford to simply hire fighters on a whim right 
now, Mr. Wulong..."

"It's not quite a whim," he pointed out, "but in any case that 
isn't an issue.  So long as I'm on this case, it would be 
unethical for me to take any money from you.  We'd have a 
contract for bookkeeping purposes, but I wouldn't ask you to pay 
me."

The idea of a fighter that she didn't have to pay immediately 
struck a warm, resonant chord in Tendou Nabiki's money-grubbing 
soul, but she still had reservations.  "That's good to hear... 
but I don't know if you'll be suitable."

He raised an eyebrow.  "If you're concerned about my skills, Ms. 
Tendou, I can assure you:  I'm no 'jobber' like Johnny Cage."

"Your skills aren't the issue," she told him truthfully.  A man 
with his reputation and experience could assuredly compete in the 
ring, even at the Ultra level.  "This program is not just a 
martial arts tournament.  It's sports entertainment."

"I don't follow the distinction."

"It's quite simple," she elucidated.  "It means you have to be 
entertaining.  People watch this show for the personalities as 
much as the combat.  That's why we're so successful.  I can 
accept your martial arts ability at face value, Lieutenant, but 
not your stage presence.  That must be proven."

"And how do I prove that to you?"

She tapped her foot.  "Normally, there's an application process, 
but even that isn't foolproof.  And I imagine you'll tell me 
that time is of the essence if you are to catch the culprit."

"Yes."

"Then you'll simply have to prove it in the ring," she declared.  
"I'll contact Jack Lysias and instruct him to book you in the 
upcoming show.  The real reason for your presence in Ultra will 
not leave this office, though.  Only you and I are to know.  Is 
that acceptable?"

"It's been a few years since I competed in a tournament.  This... 
might be interesting."  Lei was a man accustomed to keeping his 
expressions controlled, but Nabiki could see the excitement 
kindled in his eyes.  Perhaps this would work out after all.  

But she intended to cover herself, just in case.  "One more 
thing, Lieutenant Wulong."

"Hmm?"

"The situation is irregular," she said, "but I intend to treat 
you like all my other fighters.  That is to say, if you don't 
produce in the ring, you will be let go.  I don't care about 
victories or losses.  I care about ratings and profits.  Is that 
clear?"

"And my investigation?" he asked.

"Will have to proceed some other way if you cannot hack it as a 
fighter in Ultra," she informed him.

"I can accept that," Lei Wulong said with a nod.  "So who will I 
be fighting?"

"Ah," she raised a finger.  "That will be up to Controversial 
Jack.  I suggest you be ready for anything.  We have quite a 
variety of talent on our roster."

"I've seen a lot of weird stuff in my day," he said confidently.  
"I'll be ready."

She nodded.  "That's good.  I'll have your contract drawn up by 
tomorrow, Mr. Wulong.  Until then..."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Tendou.  I'll be here 
tomorrow."  He executed a slight bow, but for all his politeness, 
Nabiki could tell that she wasn't entirely off the hook.  Right 
now, as far as this man was concerned, everyone was a suspect - 
including herself.  

She scowled as the police officer left her office.  'Johnny 
Cage,' she thought irritably.  'You left quite a mess behind for 
me, didn't you?'

- - - - -

Tasuki craned his head back and regarded in the impressive white 
building with a mixture of awe and confusion.  "It's pretty big," 
he observed.  "What the hell is it?"

"Tokyo Metropolitan Library," his diminutive companion said with 
a shake of her unruly red hair.

"And this is where the answer is?" he asked dubiously.  "The 
reason why I'm in this weird place fighting on a T.V. show?  You 
sure about this?"

"Trust me," Lina Inverse assured him.  "When it comes to magic, I 
know what I'm talking about."

She led him through the glass doorway into the cavernous entry 
hall of the great library.  A dazzling panorama of breathtaking 
architecture unfolded before them, gorgeously lit by the rays of 
sun streaking through towering, crystal-clear windows.  Tasuki 
only had a moment to boggle at the high arching ceiling and the 
seemingly endless shelves packed with books of every conceivable 
variety before Lina yanked his sleeve and tugged him to the side.  
The sorcery genius herded her dazed charge towards a small, 
unobtrusive stairway which lay beyond the vending machines.

"This way," she instructed him, leading him onward.  

"Where...?"

"In here."  

The area into which they ascended seemed a world apart from the 
stately grandeur of the main library.  Where the library featured 
bold white arches and glossy marble tile, this little hallway had 
only cracked plaster and faded, yellow paint.  The corridor felt 
almost claustrophobically narrow; it was windowless and poorly 
lit at just the wrong level, so the eyes seemed unable to achieve 
a comfortable focus.  Further, it was almost completely bland, 
untouched by any attempts at decoration or style.

The whole effect presented a subtle but powerful message, so 
understated that most people would barely notice they were 
responding to it.  In its profound, unspoken way, the hallway 
said this to any who entered it:  'Stay away.  There's nothing 
important here.'

Once she'd tracked the eldritch disturbances surrounding Tasuki 
to this place, Lina had spotted the camouflage spell almost 
instantly.  To normal people, it acted as an undetectable 
antipathy zone, designed to make them hurry about their business 
and forget the corridor seconds after they'd passed through it.  
To an experienced plunderer of magical treasure like Lina 
Inverse, though, it was like a beacon leading to something 
powerful and strange tucked away in the darkness. 

Only a select few people, nudged along by the invisible hands of 
destiny, were supposed to come here.  Lina wasn't one of those 
people, of course, but that had never stopped her before.  
Besides, destiny had gotten rather mucked up this time, and was 
going to need someone like her to help sort it out.

Lina opened a door marked 'No Admittance.' The room was old and 
musty, filled with the smell of aging paper and cobwebs.  The 
ancient wood of the bookshelves sagged from years of bearing the 
weight of their heavy burdens.  Virtually none of the books here 
had been opened for years, probably decades.  Anything that a 
person might conceivably ever want to read or reference had been 
long ago moved to the more accessible, mundane parts of the 
library.  They were just part of the disguise, like the forgotten 
corridor.

Tasuki looked around, confused.  "Weird," he commented.

"You don't know the half of it," the sorceress murmured.  "Ah, 
here it is."  She reached for the only book on the shelf which 
truly mattered.

"What?"

"'The Universe of Four Gods.'"  The thick, leather-bound tome 
seemed less dusty than the others with which it shared the shelf, 
as if a person might actually been reading it lately.  Which, 
Lina knew, somebody had.  

"'The Universe...' HEY!" Tasuki exclaimed.  "I know what THAT is!  
It's Miaka's scroll!  The one for summoning Suzaku!"  He 
scratched his temple.  "It doesn't look like a scroll..."

"It isn't," Lina agreed.  "Not on this world.  It's a book that 
tells what happened on your world with this Priestess of Suzaku 
person.  A very powerful, very magical book that somebody on this 
world has been reading."

"I don't get it," Tasuki admitted, confused.  "Hey, what's that 
blue thing doin' there?"  He pointed to a strip of paper jutting 
up from the pages somewhere in the middle of the 'Universe of 
Four Gods.'

"This," Lina gestured at the paper meaningfully, "is your 
problem."

"Huh?"

"Look."  Lina opened the heavy volume to the page where the blue 
strip of paper had been inserted.  "It's an old advertising 
brochure for an episode of Ultra," she explained.  "The guy who 
was reading the book used it to mark his place.  Only he left it 
in this 'Universe of Four Gods' too long, and now it won't come 
out."

"So?"  Tasuki frowned at the brochure.

The sorceress took a deep breath.  "This book tells the events of 
your life, at least as a warrior of Suzaku.  It's not just a 
story, it's a spell - a gateway.  A very complicated and, 
apparently, delicate enchantment.  But this brochure has gotten 
tangled up in the enchantment, and the whole thing is 
disrupted."

"Tells the events of my life?" Tasuki asked.  "What does that 
mean?"

"It means that as someone reads this book, things happen to you.  
The story progresses, and your life progresses.  Only now the 
story CAN'T go on until we take out the brochure."

"Someone read the book... and..." The Chinese warrior worked his 
jaw without forming any intelligible words.  

"Right."

"That's... that's..." Tasuki gaped.

"I know," Lina said.  "It's pretty bizarre."

"NO WAY!" the warrior of Suzaku bellowed, suddenly enraged.  "NO 
WAY in HELL!  SCREW THIS!"  

He tore the book from the surprised Lina Inverse and threw it on 
the floor, face beet-red with rage.  The flame-haired fighter 
jumped up and down on the magical artifact in fury, stomping its 
pages like a madman.  "STUPID DAMNED BOOK!  SCREW YOU!  STUPID 
THING!"  

"H... hey!" Lina cried. "Calm down!"

Tasuki drew his enchanted fan and reared back, eyes blazing.  
"I'm gonna TORCH this piece of crap!  REKKA..."

"RAY WING!" Lina barked, snapping off the spell before Tasuki 
could unleash his flames.  A sphere of force enveloped the 
Chinese fighter, picking him up and hurling him into the wall.  
The walls of the forgotten room shuddered, and dust flew from the 
shelves.

Tasuki coughed and staggered to his feet as the Lina released the 
spell, slightly dizzy from the impact.

"What do you think you're doing?" the sorceress demanded.  

Tasuki brushed away a tear of rage and glared at the book on the 
floor.  "That thing... that goddamned thing... I don't believe 
it!  I refuse to accept it!"

"Accept what?"

"How would you feel, huh?" he snarled at her.  "What if someone 
came along and told you that you were some sort of... fictional 
character?  Well?"

Lina rolled her eyes.  "Give me a break.  Like that would ever 
happen.  Look, that isn't what I said."

"But... you said..."

"Listen to me," she commanded, pointing a finger at his face.  
"You are every bit as real as I am.  You're not a character in a 
book.  Okay?"

"Then... what..." Tasuki peered at the 'Universe of Four Gods' 
warily.

"The book is a LINK between these two worlds," Lina explained.  
"Your world, this world.  BOTH are real.  It's a gateway... and a 
prophecy.  Yes, it can affect how you act.  But that doesn't mean 
it controls your life.  Okay?  Can you handle that?"

The black-clad warrior holstered his enchanted fan once more and 
stood up straighter.  "I still don't like it," he groused.

"Yeah, well prophecies generally suck," Lina acknowledged 
sympathetically.  "But this one is even worse, because it all 
went awry.  That advertisement got caught up in the enchantment, 
and it's not going to be easy to get it out."

"Why?" Tasuki asked.  "I don't understand how it made me come 
here."

"Look," the red-haired sorceress said, picking the book off the 
floor and pointing to the advertisement.  "This is for a show 
that already happened a while ago.  See?  There's a lot of bunk 
about 'red-hot action' and 'blazing rivalries' and all that.  
Maybe that's why it chose you, working on the whole fire 
connection.  Or maybe because the last page in the real story of 
the book mentions you."

Tasuki peered at the pages, reading about himself in the 
'Universe of Four Gods.'  "Hey, yeah?  That's really weird."  He 
frowned at her.  "Look, why don't we just take the brochure out?"

"Try it," she offered.

The Chinese warrior took hold of the edge of the glossy paper and 
gave it a tug.  It didn't budge an inch.  Frowning, he pulled 
harder, then grabbed it with both hands and planted his feet, 
yanking with all his might.  The paper should have come flying 
out of the book, or at least should have shredded in his hand, 
but it remained firmly planted in the pages like Excalibur in its 
prison of stone.  

"What gives?" Tasuki snarled, finally giving up. 

"It's the same reason you can't skip ahead in this book," Lina 
explained, thumbing the unread pages meaningfully.  Her gloved 
finger skimmed along the edges of the paper, but the pages 
stubbornly refused to turn.  "It's all part of the enchantment.  
You can't go on to the next part of the story until the current 
part is finished."

"Can't you just magic it out or something?" he implored.

"Maybe... but that might disrupt the whole book, and I don't know 
what that'll do.  Might be very bad."

"Well CRAP!  Who's the asshole who did this, anyway?" Tasuki 
growled.  "I wanna beat his face in!"

"Just a guy.  I talked to him," Lina assured him.  There was more 
to it than that - the boy who'd been reading the "Universe of 
Four Gods" was the brother of this Priestess of Suzaku girl, who 
evidently came from this world in the first place.  But Lina 
wasn't sure if she should tell Tasuki any more details than 
necessary about this girl he was supposed to be protecting.  
Things were messed up enough already.  "It won't do you any good 
to beat him up."

"Well then what CAN I do?" asked the exasperated fighter.

"Look at the brochure," she instructed.  "What's the last thing 
it says?"

Tasuki peered at the crumpled, slick paper.  "It says... 'The 
Lambda Championship will be decided tonight.  Who will take home 
the belt?  Don't miss it.'"  He looked up.  "So?"

"So," Lina said, "that's why you showed up when you did!  The 
enchantment took the path of least resistance, and stuck you in a 
match for the Lambda Belt, replacing the nearest convenient 
Chinese boy:  Mousse.  That's why you ended up with Shampoo in a 
fight with the Lambda beltholders - Team Samurai, at the time.  
See?"

"Oh," Tasuki muttered, trying to soak that in.  "Then... uh..."

"BUT," she continued.  "you didn't win.  And that's the problem."

"Wait... what would have happened if I'd won?" Tasuki asked, 
scratching his head.

"This brochure would have come out, and the story could 
continue." Lina provided.  "Since then, you've been fighting in 
Ultra alone, so you haven't really been keeping consistent with 
the 'story' of this brochure.  And that's why you've felt so 
strange.  You have knowledge about anything actually mentioned in 
the brochure - Ultra, television, trash-talking, whatever - but 
for everything else you're on your own.  Until, of course, you 
finish the 'story.'"

"Hey, I shouldn't have lost that fight in the first place, right?" 
Tasuki demanded, spreading his hands.  "You just said it was a 
prophecy!"

Lina bopped him on the head.  "Excuse me, but did you see it written 
anywhere that 'Tasuki wins the belt?'  Hmm?"

"Uh, well..."

"Prophecies don't work that way," she told him firmly.  "Even the 
ones that aren't screwed up.  That's why they're generally so vague.  
They set things up, but they don't subvert your free will, and 
they DON'T give you a free ride!  If you want to win this belt, 
you'll have to do it on your own."

"So what happens if I DO win?" Tasuki asked. 

"If you win, you will have fulfilled the prophecy of the Brochure 
of Fate," Lina intoned.  "If you win the belt, we can pull this 
thing out of the book and your story can continue like it supposed 
to. Everything will be put back to normal.  Or what passes for 
normal, anyway," she added, giving the ancient book a dubious 
look.

"And then what?" He looked at her expectantly.  "I just... 
disappear or somethin'?  Back to my world?"

"Not quite," Lina informed him.  "But it does mean that I can 
use the magic of this 'Universe of Four Gods' to send you back 
home. That is, if you want to go."

"Why the hell wouldn't I?" Tasuki blurted.

"Oh, I don't know," the sorceress said with a smile.  She knew 
that Ultra had a way of growing on people, and maybe Tasuki 
wouldn't be in as big a rush to get back home as he might suspect 
now.  He might decide he'd like to stick around here for a little
while even if he did win the title, rather than heading immediately 
back into his life on that other world.  But that was a matter for
another day.  "Anyway, you know what you have to do?"

"You're damned right I do!" the member of the Suzaku Seven 
exclaimed, his voice full of fiery determination.  "I've gotta go 
hook up with a partner!  I have a goddamned belt to win!"

- - - - -

Reclining in the opulent embrace of her leather office chair, 
Nabiki examined the preliminary card before her thoughtfully.  
Jack still had some blank spaces to be filled and clearly had 
some things brewing, but as usual, he kept his plans close to the 
chest.  

It sometimes frustrated her when the man pulled rank as the Head 
Booker, demanding things be done a certain way no matter what 
ideas she had.  This match with Ranma, for instance.  She'd told 
Ranma that his comeback fight would be against Iori, but when 
she'd informed Jack of this, he'd simply made a rude noise.  
Obviously, he wanted to let that rivalry simmer as well.  Ranma's 
scheduled fight was anything but a grudge match.

Maybe Jack just did this sort of thing to annoy her.

No, that wasn't fair, she knew.  Controversial Jack was the Head 
Booker for a reason, and that was that for all his lunacy and 
chaotic ways, he knew what he was doing.  He got results.  Nabiki 
didn't always understand the man's madness, but as long as she 
benefited from his methods, she could swallow her pride and let 
him go over her head in scheduling the matches.

The intercom interrupted her thoughts.  "Your sister here to see 
you, Ms. Tendou," her secretary announced.

Nabiki did not have to ask which sister.  Kasumi always made 
appointments.

"Send her in," she instructed, setting the fight card aside.  
"Akane. What a pleasant surprise.  What can I do for you?"

Nabiki recognized the look on her little sister's face 
immediately.  Akane had reached Maximum Stubbornness Level - jaw 
set, brows knit, dark eyes glittering like wet mica.  She'd made 
up her mind to do something, and woe be the person who tried to 
talk her out of it.  

"I need to do something," Akane told her.  "I need to fight 
Ranma."

Nabiki gave her a quizzical look.  "You've never required my 
permission before for THAT, sis."

"I'm not talking about a spat," the short-haired martial artist 
said.  "I'm talking about a real fight.  In Ultra."

The teenaged CEO sighed.  She knew how a fight like that would 
turn out, but obviously Akane had her mind set on the matter.  
Maybe she could bill it as a lover's quarrel match or something 
and get a little bit of play out of it.  There was no point in 
arguing.  "Well, I'll talk to Jack.  Maybe we can book it into 
the upcoming show..."

"No."

Nabiki cocked her head.  "I beg your pardon?  Look, I'm willing 
to do this because you're family, but I have enough people 
demanding venues around here."

"I'm not ready to face him," she said.  "I need training."

"All right, I'm confused," Nabiki admitted.  "You say you want to 
fight Ranma, but now..."

"I want to fight him for REAL," Akane insisted.  

"What brought this on?" the middle Tendou daughter asked, 
genuinely curious.  "I thought you and Ranma were getting along 
better."

"We are," Akane explained in a clenched voice.  "But that's part 
of the problem!  No matter how much he cares for me, there's some 
part of him which won't EVER respect me.  Not unless I show him 
that I'm good enough to be his equal.  That's why I have to beat 
him in the ring.  A real fight, with Ranma trying his hardest to 
win."

"Sis," Nabiki said, her voice unusually gentle.  "Ranma's never 
going to fight his hardest against you."

"I know.  That's why he won't know it's me."

The teenaged CEO raised her eyebrows.  "What?"

"I'll make a disguise," Akane told her, eyes dancing.  "I'll 
enter Ultra under a different name.  I'll prove myself as a real 
fighter, and he won't know it's me.  I'll be so good that he'll 
WANT to fight ME, to prove he's better!"

"A disguise?" Nabiki shook her head.  "No.  It's crazy."

"Why?"

"You could get hurt out there..."

"I KNOW that!" Akane cried angrily, slamming her palms against 
Nabiki's desk.  "I'm not gonna go out there as the boss's little 
sister anymore either, Nabiki!  I'm not made of glass!  I'm so 
sick and tired of people treating me like this, and that includes 
YOU!"

Nabiki held up her hands.  "All right, all RIGHT!  A disguise.  
What kind of disguise?"

"So you're going to let me do this?" Akane demanded.

"I'm still thinking about it," Nabiki responded, unwilling to 
concede just yet but knowing that her sister wouldn't be 
deterred.  "What kind of disguise?"

"Well... a boy, I think.  If Ukyou could do it, I could too," the 
youngest Tendou said.  "Ranma never fights his hardest against 
girls..."

"Oh, please," Nabiki interrupted, rolling her eyes.  "You still 
buy that stupid act of his?  In any case, the matter can be 
settled by a splash of cold water.  No, a boy disguise is NOT a 
good idea."

"Why not?"

She leaned forward in her chair.  "It's the surest way to get 
your shirt ripped open on T.V."

Akane scratched her chin.  "Is it?"

"Trust me on this."

"Huh.  If you say so," Akane relented.  "Well... I'll think of 
something.  I can just sew a costume..."

"Oh no," Nabiki rested her forehead against her fingertips.  The 
idea of Akane sewing an outfit sent cold shivers down her spine.  
The only reason that Akane's seamstress skills could be 
considered better than her cooking ability was that you were 
never expected to actually eat the abominations she created with 
needle and thread. 

"Well..."

"Look," Nabiki said, raising a hand.  "I will accept this idea, 
but there are a couple conditions."

"Conditions?" Apprehension and excitement collided on Akane's 
face.

Nabiki ticked off the points on her fingers.  "First, you will 
allow me to provide you a trainer.  As you said, your skills are 
not sufficient to defeat Ranma.  Or a lot of the other fighters 
we have in Ultra, for that matter."

"A trainer would be fine," Akane agreed.  "Who?"

"I'll think about it," Nabiki replied, then continued. "Also, if I 
let you do this, then you're going to have to let us handle your
new image."

The short-haired fighter frowned.  "I don't see why I just 
can't..."

"Akane," the young CEO interrupted.  "Fighting is what you do.  
You handle that part.  But image is our business.  Leave this 
matter to people who know what they're doing, okay?"

Tendou Akane seemed to chew on this a little while, then finally 
nodded and stuck out her hand.  "You've got yourself a deal, 
sis."

"Deal," Nabiki agreed, accepting the handshake.  She prayed she 
wasn't making a huge mistake.

- - - - - 

Through the florescent-lit halls of the Ultradome, the Great Yaga 
strode with a large shopping bag cradled in his muscular arm.  He 
cross-checked his list to see if he had covered all the 
contingencies.  He'd been pleased to discover that at least three 
of these Pokemon were weak against "fighting types," which meant 
that Yaga himself was the best weapon against them.  

He'd bought a small extinguisher for the fire-based Pokemon that 
James might use, and some weed killer for the plant-based 
Victreebell.  The poison types - Weezing and Arbok - concerned 
him more.  They FAQ said they were vulnerable to "earth type" 
attacks, a classification which was evidently distinct from "rock 
types."  Yaga had purchases some clay pots to use as weapons, but 
he still wanted to think about other possibilities.  And the 
psychic Mew was dangerous but still young - a saucer of milk 
might serve him better than a weapon. Further, the audience might 
react more favorably to the gentle approach with something that 
looked like a kitten.

He hoped he wouldn't have to use all of these things, but he 
intended to be prepared.  Ideally, he would like to defeat all 
these strange little animals with his wrestling skills, but he 
had watched enough Ultra to know not to underestimate the 
ridiculous looking creatures.  Once he made it through the pets 
and reached the master, he could truly dictate the pace of the 
fight.

A delicate line had to be drawn.  If he caused James too much 
pain, the audience might sympathize with the mincing little 
fashion slave.  No, the trick was to force the boy into making 
HIMSELF look bad.  The threat of pain might prove more effective 
than inflicting actual punishment.

This would be very, very good.

A deep, commanding voice interrupted him from his reverie.  "Ah, 
Yaga.  I've been looking for you."

The veteran wrestler turned to face the tall, dark-suited figure 
walking slowly down the hall towards him.  Shockwave Alberto 
moved with an easy dignity, smoking cigar held lightly between 
his two fingers, the other hand folded elegantly behind his back. 
A flicker of light glinted off the mechanical patch which covered 
the Omega fighter's right eye.  

"Mr. Alberto," Yaga greeted his ally with an almost imperceptible 
bow.  "It is good to see you."

"I have a request," the warrior of the Magnificent Ten said, a 
trace of irritation under his refined voice.  

"Oh?"

"I have been attempting to get Jack Lysias to arrange a match 
between myself and this newcomer.  This... Ultraman."  A hint of 
a smile flickered on the edge of his lips.  "However, the man 
continues to deflect me.  I grow weary of it."

"Ah," Yaga said.  "Perhaps I might speak with him.  Jack has 
begun to recognize..."

Alberto waved a dismissive hand.  "I doubt that would help.  He 
continues to spout nonsense about issues like liability and 
insurance, some absurdity about Ultraman's lack of a benefit 
plan.  He is clearly obfuscating."

"Well..."

"Invoke your contract," Alberto instructed.  "Arrange a match in 
the upcoming program.  I will fight Ultraman."

"My apologies, but no, I..." Yaga began.

"What did you just say?"

A small turn of the head, an infinitesimal narrowing of Alberto's 
single eye, and suddenly the man's entire bearing changed from 
graceful refinement to deadly, palpable menace.  Yaga felt his 
spine turned to ice.

It was at this point that Yaga remembered three things.  First, 
Alberto was not just another fighter - on his world, he was an 
elite operative of some unthinkably vast criminal organization.  
Second, this man commanded enough raw power to single-handedly 
destroy a battleship if he were in a sufficiently irate mood.  
And third, Shockwave Alberto was not a person who was accustomed 
to having people tell him "no."

"No problem, that is," the wrestler said, his voice sounding 
small in his own ears.  "I'll see that it's done."

Alberto smiled, almost charmingly.  "Very good.  Well, shall I 
see you at our weekly poker game prior the show?"

"Of course," Yaga assured him.  Trickles of cold sweat crept 
their way down his back.  "I look forward to it, as always."

"Until then..." Shockwave Alberto pivoted on his heel and made 
his way slowly down the hall, until his black suit melted into 
the shadows of the corridor.

The Great Yaga scowled to himself.  These Omega types were 
definitely a different sort of breed - he'd never had to deal 
with such people back in his younger days as a wrestler.  Ultra 
took some getting used to, even for a seasoned champion like 
himself.

Perhaps this wouldn't be an inconvenience, he reasoned.  After 
all, when he'd spoken with Controversial Jack, he hadn't actually 
said he was bringing to bear the booking clause in his contract.  
They'd both agreed on the fight with James, hadn't they?  
Therefore, he could still wield his legal clout on Alberto's 
behalf, and not worry about interfering with his own match.

Yaga decided to wait until the last possible moment to inform 
Jack of his demands, so the Head Booker wouldn't have much time 
to make any unwarranted changes in the card.  Just in case.

- - - - -

When Nabiki had told Akane that the Ultra staff would handle her 
new image, she hadn't mentioned that she was going to put 
Controversial Jack in charge of the project.  Akane shifted 
uncertainly in her chair as the Head Booker of Ultra arranged the 
slide projector and flicked off the lights in the presentation 
room.  She took a little sip of her tea and looked at the Ultra 
logo on the introductory slide, not quite knowing what to 
expect.

"Okay, Akane my girl, I've got a few different looks whipped up.  
One of 'em is bound to trip your trigger.  You ready?" Jack 
asked, rubbing his hands together gleefully.  

"Um... I guess."  She smiled nervously.

"Good!"  The spiky-haired maniac dropped his voice to a dramatic 
register.  "Now, as you know, the fighters of Ultra are a 
cowardly and superstitious lot."

"They are?"

"Your disguise must strike terror into their hearts! You shall be 
the silent hunter in the darkness!  You shall become..."  He 
paused for effect.

"...a bat?" Akane guessed.

"...a SQUID!" the Controversial One exalted, punching the control 
button to display the first of his computer-generated costume 
concepts.

Akane stared at the projection screen as it portrayed her as 
'Squid-Girl.'  "Oh come ON!" she exclaimed.  "A squid?  And how 
am I supposed to fight with all those tentacles?  This is 
ridiculous!"

"All right," Jack continued, not missing a beat.  "How about this 
one?"  He waited strategically until Akane began to sip her tea, 
then punched up the next slide.

The rendered figure on the screen wore a red leather mask and 
matching boots as a disguise... and nothing else.  Not even 
underwear.

Akane sprayed tea through her nostrils, just as Jack had hoped, 
and began to splutter incoherently.

"I call it 'Kekko-'Kane,'" the Head Booker informed her.  
"Whaddya think?"

"JACK!" Akane screeched.  "You... you PERVERT!"

"So that's a 'no,' huh?" Jack made a show of frowning 
thoughtfully.  "Okay, how about something from the opposite end 
of the spectrum, then?"

The image which replaced the rather vulgar red-masked figure was 
dressed entirely in white, robed in the traditional Catholic 
wimple.  A large gold cross dangled about her neck, and the 
computer model wore an innocent, pious expression.  

"I call her 'Warrior Nun Angela,'" Jack announced.  

Akane mopped a few stray droplets of tea from her lip and 
frowned.  "I'm not even Christian, you moron."

"But religion can be VERY controversial!  The Pope would love
it." 

"Leave me out of it," she huffed.  "Do you have anything else?"

"Well, there's this one..."

Akane threw her hands up in exasperation as the next image 
appeared.  "WHAT are you thinking, Jack?  I'd have to grow an 
extra head for that!"

"We'd pay for the surgery," he assured her.  "It's very safe 
these days."

"This is a waste of time!" Akane snapped crossly.  "I'd be better 
off coming up with something by myself."

"Wow, you're tough to please."  Jack scratched his head, feigning 
anxiety.  "Uh... let's see.  This one?  No, I don't think you'd 
like that."  He flashed an image momentarily on the screen, then 
snapped another slide into place a few seconds later.  "How about 
this:  'The Shropshire Slasher.'  You could..."

"Wait, wait!" the Tendou girl interjected, leaning forward in her 
chair and pointing at the screen.  "Go back to that last one!"

"What, this?" Jack asked innocently, flipping back two slides.

"No!  The one right AFTER this one!"

"Oh."  Intent on watching the screen, Akane didn't see him smile 
knowingly as he cued up the proper slide.  "This thing.  I 
dunno... do you think it's really you?"

Tendou Akane's eyes sparkled in the glow of the projector as she 
turned to face him.  "That's it.  That's the one I want."

- - - - - 

With only a few hours left to go before showtime, Nabiki paced 
the floor of her office, final checklist in hand.  Naga the White 
Serpent sat cross-legged in one of the office chairs, absently 
filing her nails.  There was going to be a lot of new stuff for 
the audience to absorb this time, but it couldn't be helped.  She 
wondered if this new tag team arrangement with Tasuki would work 
out - Jack's suggestion for a partner seemed sound enough, but 
you never could tell how a hothead like him would get along with 
anybody.  

Stressing, fretting, and worrying over the details were all jut 
part of the game.  

Nabiki's office intercom beeped, and she looked up at the clock 
on the wall.  'Right on time,' she thought.  It made for kind of 
a novelty when someone actually scheduled and kept an appointment 
with her.  

"Come in."

On first glance, it would have been hard to spot anything 
different about Pantyhose Tarou.  He still wore his scaled 
fighter's outfit and wristbands, still let his hair fall into 
delicate curls over his ears, still smiled with a mixture of 
self-satisfaction and general disdain for the world at large.  
But Nabiki knew him well by now, and there was something very 
different about him.

The way he moved wasn't the same, for one.  He'd always moved 
like a gifted fighter, but now his posture and stride were more 
controlled, smoother, and much, much quieter.  His feet barely 
made a sound on her carpet.  The unconscious subtlety with which 
he carried himself reminded her instantly of the policeman who'd 
visited her a few days ago, Lei Wulong.

This didn't surprise her, upon reflection.  Tarou must have 
gotten accustomed to stealth when he infiltrated Shadowlaw.  The 
thought of that, the awful risk he took, still gave her chills.

"It's good to see you again, Tarou," Nabiki said, leaning 
casually against her desk.  "Are you well?"

"Very well, Ms. Tendou."  He bowed his head slightly.  There was 
something different about his eyes.  He seemed much older now, 
Nabiki thought, and perhaps not so full of bitterness.

"I was surprised to see you at the final Bison fight," the Ultra 
CEO admitted.

Something in Tarou's face darkened, and his eyes became grim.  
"Not half as surprised as Bison was," he whispered in a tight 
voice.

"Yes," Nabiki said.  "I imagine so."

For a moment, Tarou seemed lost in thought, a memory of something 
painful, but then his composure returned so quickly that Nabiki 
wondered if she'd simply imagined the expression.  He turned to 
slightly to address the other person in the room.   "Ms. Naga," 
he said.  "So you were Ms. Tendou's bodyguard in my stead?"

"OH-HO-HO-HO-HO!" the black clad sorceress laughed.  "Indeed!  
The mere suggestion of crossing paths with the legendary White 
Serpent was enough to send the cowardly Melvin Bison cringing 
into the darkness!"

"I was doing most of the cringing," Nabiki supplied.  "'Unlimited 
Desire Securities, Inc.' charges outlandish rates."

"Hmmph," Naga sniffed.  "Such ingratitude.  We gave you a favored 
client discount, even.  And it was a most perilous assignment."

"Yes, of course.  And you did a fine job."  The Ultra CEO crossed 
her arms.  "Naga, do you mind waiting outside for a moment?  I 
wish to speak to Mr. Tarou alone."

"As you wish," the busty sorceress agreed.  She swished out the 
door, beaming happily to herself simply because she knew just 
how great she really was.

"Were you in danger?" Tarou asked after the White Serpent left 
the room.

"Actually," Nabiki mused, "I think Naga is right.  Once I hired 
Omega bodyguards, Bison stopped threatening me personally.  I 
really don't think he wanted to mess with that kind of power.  
Though I suspect it had more to do with Lina Inverse than Naga, 
but don't say that out loud."

"You hired both of them?" Tarou blinked.  "How much did THAT 
cost?"

"You don't want to know," Nabiki informed him, which really meant 
that she didn't want to tell him.  "Anyway, I wanted to talk 
about the future.  You've probably been thinking about coming 
back as my bodyguard."

"Well..."

She raised a hand.  "Even though Bison is gone, I have come to 
realize that my position has certain inherent dangers.  To tell 
the truth, I've gotten kind of used to having the sheer firepower 
of Lina Inverse around if I need it.  Definitely gives one a 
sense of security."

"I see."  Tarou looked wary, but not quite as disappointed as 
she'd feared.  

"However, most of the time that much muscle is overkill," Nabiki 
continued.  "And we are trying to trim the expenses.  I've talked 
to Lina and Naga about a new contract, in which they act as my 
bodyguards on the day of the show itself.  That's when I 
generally need them most.  The rest of the time they'll simply be 
on call if I require them."

"Reasonable."

"Now, you're probably wondering where that leaves you," the 
Tendou girl speculated.

"Hopefully not wandering the world and doing promotions like that 
brainless cat-girl," Tarou said.  

Putting the acid-tongued Pantyhose Tarou out in front of the 
general public didn't strike Nabiki as a particularly sound 
notion.  She wasn't even sure if she wanted him at the 
announcer's table anymore.  "No, I don't think so.  I had another 
role in mind.  How would you feel about being my Executive 
Assistant."

"Executive Assistant?" The Chinese fighter cocked his head.  
"What does that mean?"

'It means I get to have you around in case I need you,' Nabiki 
thought.  After Tarou had been injured and then taken leave from 
Ultra, she'd had plenty of time to think about what she missed 
about having him at her side.  At first, she'd thought it was the 
safety of having a strong arm behind her, but after she'd hired 
Lina and Naga she discovered that wasn't it at all.  They were a 
thousand times more powerful than Tarou, but it still wasn't the 
same.

Really, she realized that she wanted Tarou back for his loyalty.  
During her earlier tenure in Ultra, when everybody had hated her 
guts, Tarou was the one who always stood beside her.  When Bison 
threatened her, Tarou had swallowed his pride to ensure that she 
protected herself in ways that he could not.  And the danger he'd 
exposed himself to going undercover to stop M. Bison... all the 
money in the world couldn't pay for that kind of loyalty.

But she couldn't quite figure out how to say all that out loud 
without sounding... vulnerable.  So she simply shrugged casually 
and told him:  "Mostly, I just want someone to bounce ideas 
off."

"Isn't that Jack's job?" he asked.

"Jack.  Well, sort of."  Most of the time she got along with 
Controversial Jack, but there were still moments he made her want 
to throttle him.  Right now, the man was clearly on her side, but 
what about the future?  Jack's loyalties could change with the 
wind.  She knew too much about his history to feel secure that 
he'd always be there in the future.

She wanted someone she could trust to be there for the long run, 
no matter what Jack ended up doing.  Someone who would always be 
in HER corner.

Nabiki rolled her eyes and smiled.  "Jack's a walking acid trip, 
you know.  Very useful as a Head Booker, but I have a lot of 
business decisions to make which require a more stable mind than 
his."

"I see," Tarou said.  "In that case, Ms. Tendou, I accept your 
offer."

She tried to keep from smiling too broadly, but she suddenly felt 
better than she had all week.  "Welcome back to Ultra, Tarou."

- - - - -

In the concrete corridors of the Ultradome, the fans began to 
pour in.  With less than an hour before the start of the show, 
they milled through the aisles and swarmed the concession stands, 
eager to empty their wallets to purchase all manner of official 
Ultra merchandise.  The fight program was always a collector 
favorite - fans seemed to get a never-ending kick out of 
comparing what was planned for the show to what actually ended 
upon the air.  

Several stories beneath all the activity, three young friends 
waited in one of the many training rooms.  Each of them had been 
booked into tonight's card.

"Man, I don't know if I'll ever get used to this!" Li Ping 
exclaimed, pacing excitedly.  If Yaga had been there, he might 
have been rather surprised to see that the boy wasn't wearing a 
neck brace, and seemed to be in perfectly good condition.

Kusagano Sakura and Yabuki Shingo grinned at each other, while 
the young American fighter tried to keep from bouncing off the 
walls.  "Pre-show jitters?" Shingo asked.

"Yeah!" Li Ping agreed.  "How do you guys deal with it?"

Sakura laughed.  "You never get used to it," she assured him.  

Li performed a toe-grabbing stretch.  "At least I'm up first 
tonight," he said.  "I've been really preparing for this!"

"You better have," Shingo told him.  "You're up against Ranma.  
He's about as good as they come around here."

"Don't worry," the action-movie fan assured.  "I've got something 
planned."

"You think you can beat him?" Sakura asked.

"Er... well, I didn't say that," Li Ping admitted.  "But I do 
have something in mind.  Anyway, what about you guys?  You're up 
against a new tag team, right?"

Sakura cracked her knuckles absently.  "It means they won't be 
used to working together.  I think we can take them."

"Especially if that Tasuki guy shows up drunk again," Shingo 
added.

"Hey, was that freaky or what?" Li said.  "But I hear he can be 
pretty tough, if he's sober an all.  And the other guy..."

"He's tough too," Shingo admitted.  "But he's not the only one 
with a few tricks up his sleeve."  The quick-change martial 
artist smiled.

Sakura stood up and stretched.  "Well guys... I have to go 
change."

"Oh yeah?" Li asked attentively.  "What are you wearing tonight?"

The self-taught Shotokan fighter looked a bit nervous.  "I don't 
know yet.  "Tomoyo just sent the package today."

"Who?"

"Kinomoto Sakura's friend," Shingo explained.  "She's been very 
interested in designing costumes for Sakura.  Both Sakuras, I 
guess."

"She's a little weird," Sakura admitted.  "But it's hard to say 
no to her."

"I'm sure you'll look great in anything," Li Ping told her.

She smiled warmly at him.  "Why thank you.  That's really sweet.  
Okay, guys, I'm off.  Good luck in your fight, Li.  We're rooting 
for you!"

Li Ping and Shingo watched her leave.  The American martial 
artist let out a huge sigh as the door closed behind her.  "She's 
really awesome, isn't she?"

Shingo nodded.  "Yeah," he agreed, not entirely paying attention.  
He was studying his move FAQ, considering his strategies for the 
upcoming match.

"She called me 'sweet,'" Li recalled.  "Wow."

"Hmm," Shingo muttered, frowning at his list.

"Hey, could you do me a favor?"

"Huh?" The master of mimicry looked up.  "A favor?"

"You've known Sakura for a long time, right?" Li asked, plopping 
down on the bench next to Shingo.

"Yeah."

"Could you set me up on a date with her?"

Shingo found himself completely blindsided by this.  His new 
friend looked at him eagerly, a hopeful expression on his face, 
and Shingo's mind reeled from the unexpected question.  The 
stunned young fighter's brain simply came off the hook for a 
moment, and the first mental function which managed to reconnect 
ended up being his natural good nature.  Without really even 
planning to, he answered Li Ping: 

"Uh... sure.  No problem."

The American youth bounced up to his feet again excitedly.  
"Excellent!" he cried.  "Oh man, you don't know how much I 
appreciate this.  I mean, I really have a hard time with girls 
and all.  They usually think I'm sort of a spaz." 

"No, you're not..." Shingo assured him, his mind still trying to 
come to terms with what he'd just promised to do.

"But Sakura... oh wow.  I've had a crush on her ever since I 
started watching Ultra," Li admitted.  "She's, like, perfect!  
She's so pretty and neat and she's just so COOL, and she's a 
fighter like me!  I think we could really understand each other 
and stuff!  What do you think?  I mean, you're her friend and 
all."

"Well, I..." Shingo stammered.  That was precisely what he'd 
stated over and over, quite loudly and publicly.  He and Sakura 
were just friends.  "I think she's a very... special girl."

"So could you help me out here?" Li begged.  "Tell me what she 
likes and all that, so I can take her somewhere neat and not 
look like a dork?"

"Yeah, okay..."

"Great!" Li exclaimed happily, beaming from ear to ear.  "I 
totally appreciate this, Shingo!  With you helping me out, I 
think I can really pull this off!  You are the MAN!"  He thrust 
out his hand for a high five.

Shingo slapped his palm against Li Ping's.  The world seemed to 
spin around his head, and everything felt distant and surreal.  
"Any time," he heard himself say.

"All right, I gotta get psyched up for my fight!  See you later, 
pal!" Li Ping practically floated out of the locker room, buoyed 
on a cloud of pure exuberant bliss.

Shingo watched him go, utterly dazed, and wondered what he'd just 
done.

- - - - -

The hour approached, and Tokyo braced itself for impact.

It was almost time.

Inside the great dome, the final seconds ticked their way off the 
clock, edging ever closer to the moment they'd all been waiting 
for.  The mighty spotlights dimmed their luminance down to the 
barest flicker, and the coliseum waited in near-darkness.  They 
watched as one, the main event preceded by the drumroll of thirty 
thousand hammering hearts.

"Are you READY..."

The banners fluttered and loose papers danced as the air shifted 
from an entire mob drawing its breath at once.

"...for some... ULTRAAAAVIOLENCE!?"

The lights blared to life, the fireworks burst into the air, and 
the crowd roared like an army of Mongol warriors descending upon 
their foes.  

The show was on.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Hiroshi shouted into his microphone.  "My 
name is Hiroshi, and this is my partner Daisuke!  We are proud to 
welcome you to the 75th episode of the REAL greatest show on 
Earth... say it with me, folks... give me an 'M!'"

"M!" screamed the crowd.

"T!  C!"  The hyper announcer rattled off the letters, and the 
crowd's response surged in volume with each one.  "F!  F!  ULLL-
TRA!"

"ULTRA!" the audience shrieked in pure, apoplectic joy.

"Is this a fighting show or a spelling bee?" Daisuke asked 
sardonically. 

"It's both and NEITHER, my man!" Hiroshi exhorted.  "It is simply 
THE single most AWESOME show EVER to parade before the eyes and 
ears of CIVILIZATION!"

"By saying it's both," Daisuke pressed, "you're implying that 
this show IS a spelling bee of sorts."

Hiroshi simply ignored this.  "And by the way, folks, if you want 
to catch the second most awesome show on T.V., be sure to catch 
the new comedy hit, 'Work With Me, Daisuke!'  It's a sensation!"

His partner glared sullenly.  "You're my friend, so I don't want 
you to take this the wrong way, but I sincerely hope that show is 
the biggest bomb in the history of television."

"And speaking of bombs," Hiroshi segued, "we have some EXPLOSIVE 
matches for you tonight, ladies and gents!  So strap yourselves 
in and get ready for the fireworks, because we have a lot of 
surprises in store for you tonight!"

"But first," Daisuke said, "as part of our 'Behind the Scenes in 
Ultra' series, we take you backstage to see how some of the 
technical marvels which make a program of this nature possible."

"Not quite backstage," Hiroshi corrected, "but to a trans-
dimensional fold in the space-time continuum!"

"Ah.  Of course."

"And here to explain that in better detail is Ultra's very own 
cat-girl supreme... Nuku-Nuku!"

Daisuke raised an eyebrow.  "Nuku-Nuku's going to explain that, 
huh?  This should be good."

The mammoth screens of the UltraTron snapped to life, revealing 
the beaming face of the pink-haired cat-girl as she waved madly 
at the camera.  "HI everybody!" Nuku-Nuku burbled.  "Hi Hiroshi, 
hi Daisuke!" 

"Hi, Nuku-Nuku,' the two announcers replied in unison.

There must've been some sort of reciprocal image being beamed to 
Nuku-Nuku from through the UltraPod camera, because she peered 
closely into the lens and frowned.  "Hey, Daisuke?  What happened 
to your hair?"

The low-key announcer ran his hand across his head, looking 
confused.  "Uh... I don't know.  What, is there something wrong 
with it?"

"You shaved your afro!" the android exclaimed.  "Why'd you do 
that?  Nuku-Nuku liked it!"

"My... oh," Daisuke grumbled.  "That stupid show.  Nuku-Nuku, 
that wasn't really..."

"Wasn't really your hair?" The Ultra mascot scratched her head.  
"OH!  You must've been wearing a wig!  Well, think about growing 
your hair like that, okay?  It makes you look really buff!"

Daisuke glared at his partner, who pretended to be inspecting his 
microphone with great interest.  "I'm going to get you for this, 
man," he vowed.

"Hey, Nuku-Nuku!" Hiroshi called brightly, ignoring the venomous 
glare from his co-announcer.  "Why don't you tell us where you 
are, huh?"

"Okay!"  The android girl drew back, so the camera lens could 
pick up more of her surroundings.  It seemed as if she were 
outdoors, but the sky was utterly devoid of stars, a flat and 
impenetrable canopy of absolute blackness.  The ground upon which 
she stood was dusty and pockmarked with craters, colored a 
completely uniform hue of slate grey.  The only source of light 
seemed to be coming from just off the screen.

"Um... Nuku-Nuku doesn't really know where this is," the cat-girl 
admitted, looking about the bleak, lifeless landscape.  "But I 
know someone who does!  Here, over here!"

The camera panned towards the source of light, revealing a vast 
and complex expanse of machinery. The structure took up as much 
volume as a good sized power plant, but was far more intricate in 
design.  Immense cylinders thrust up from the humming body of the 
great machine, arcs of charged plasma coruscating up and down 
their metallic bulk.  

In front of the machine stood the person who had assuredly built 
it: the famous super-genius scientist, Hakubi Washuu.

"Hi there, folks!" The brilliant inventor saluted the camera.  

Nuku-Nuku sidled up to her with the microphone.  "Hey, Washuu-
sama... could you tell everybody where we are?  Hmm?"

"Sure!" Washuu chirped.  "Assume for the moment that our entire 
temporal universe is a singularity in the overall multi-
dimensional space-time continuum.  This space we're standing in 
is a stable pocket of hyperspace locked into orbit just on the 
edge of that singularity's event horizon.  See?"

Nuku-Nuku nodded her head.  "Oh!  I get it!"

Washuu blinked in surprise.  "You do?"

"Nope!" the cat girl admitted with frothy good cheer.  "Not at 
all!"

Washuu laughed.  "Well, don't worry about it!  The point is that 
this is the perfect place to set up the Ultra Gate Relay."

"You mean that big machine?"

"Precisely," the scientist acknowledged.  "Folks, have you ever 
wondered how we in Ultra manage to get all our Omega fighters to 
those out-of-the-way locations where they won't do any lasting 
harm to anything important?"

"Um... those big glowing blue doors?" Nuku-Nuku guessed.

Washuu gave her a thumbs-up.  "Absolutely!  The gates.  But 
traveling halfway across the galaxy isn't like walking down the 
street to your local hen-teaser's outlet."

"What is a hen-teaser?" the cat-girl asked.

The scientist pretended not to hear the question.  "In order to 
make the gates possible, you need a relay machine like this.  
Think of it like a communications satellite for a moment.  You 
have to beam the signal up to the satellite, so it can bounce it 
back down where it needs to be, right?"

"Is that what satellites are for?" Nuku-Nuku asked wonderingly.  
"I thought they were just for firing death rays from space!"

"Er... no, not always.  Anyway, this gate relay is like the 
satellite, except instead of directing radio waves, it directs 
transporter beams!  In other words, before any fighter we're 
teleporting ends up in their final destination, they pass through 
this place - the Ultra Gate Relay.  Observe!"

With that, Washuu tapped a switch on a nearby control console.  
The great relay generator surged to life, immense lashes of 
energy hurtling between the great pillars which towered above.  
Behind Washuu and Nuku-Nuku, a bright blue light shimmered into 
being.  The light twisted and expanded, eventually forming itself 
into a familiar Ultra portal.

"Wow!" Nuku-Nuku said.  "So we can just go through that and get 
wherever we want?"

"Well, there are all sorts of limitations," Washuu explained.  
"But that's the essence of it.  Right now, of course, the gate 
hasn't been calibrated.  Now, if you'll watch closely, this is 
the system I use to determine the entry point into normal 
space..."

Suddenly, a tremendous quake rocked the arid ground.  

Washuu reflexively grabbed the edge of her control panel as the 
earth beneath her feet heaved violently, but Nuku-Nuku was not so 
lucky.  With a surprised yowl, the cat girl found herself 
hurtling through the air... 

...and plunging through the uncalibrated gateway.

"NUKU-NUKU!" Hiroshi shouted in horror.

"What just happened?" Daisuke gasped.

Washuu stared at the pulsing gateway for a few seconds, angry and 
uncomprehending.  "An earthquake?" She shook her head.  "That's 
not possible.  This is just a chunk of asteroid I brought to this 
space so I'd have somewhere to stand.  It's tectonically inert!"

"Washuu!" called Hiroshi.  "What about Nuku-Nuku?  Is she all 
right?"

The super-genius scientist seemed to become aware of the camera 
again, and smiled reassuringly.  "Ha ha!" she laughed.  "Not to 
worry!  She'll be fine, she'll be fine."  She immediately lunged 
for the control panel and began hammering away.

"But where is she?" Daisuke asked.

"Um... hard to say," Washuu confessed.  "She could have ended up 
sort of anywhere.  A bit.  But never fear!  I installed a 
waveform harmonic tracker on all of the Cybergrrlz in case 
something ever went wrong.  I'll be able to locate her and bring 
her back here in a jiffy!"

"How long is a jiffy?" Daisuke asked.

The control console made a few unencouraging beeps, then began to 
flash rather unsettling red lights in several different places.  

"Er... could be a little bit," Washuu predicted.  "But don't 
worry!  I'll just get to work on this little problem.  You boys 
just carry on with the show, all right?"

"But the gate..."

"Look guys, don't bother me," Washuu snapped, her cheery demeanor 
failing a bit.  "I need to concentrate.  I'll let you know when 
she's coming back."  With that, she sent a mental cue at the 
UltraPod camera to shut off, then turned to focus on the task of 
finding her lost friend.

- - - - -

Back in the UltraDome, confused muttering and concerned whispers 
rippled through the assembled crowd.  Nobody could quite decide 
if this was just some sort of staged publicity stunt or if Nuku-
Nuku was really in actual danger.  It was not an auspicious 
beginning to the show.

"I hope Nuku-Nuku is all right," Daisuke said nervously, echoing 
the sentiment of pretty much everybody in the coliseum.

"She'll be fine!  Washuu said so!" Hiroshi insisted.  "Knowing 
her, she's already drumming up business for Ultra with some new 
green bug-eyed friends on Alpha Centauri.  It'll all be okay!"

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it, anyway," Daisuke 
observed. 

"On with the show, then!  It's time for our first fight..."

"Ah, not quite," Daisuke interjected. "We have some sad news to 
deal with first."

Hiroshi blinked, then checked his schedule again.  "Oh yeah.  
That."

Daisuke cleared his throat before speaking.  "As you all know, 
Ultra lost one of its first and... um... original stars earlier 
this week."

"That's right," Hiroshi picked up, making a game effort to inject 
some solemnity into his voice.  "The world may have known him as 
Rock Badknuckle from 'Lobster Style Kung Fu, Part III,' or 
Thruster McTough from 'Jet Pilot Commandos, A New Beginning,' but 
to us, he was always the one..."

"... the only," Daisuke provided.

"Johnny Cage."  

The two announcers bowed their head to initiate a moment of 
silence, and the lights in the stadium grew dim.  However, in 
keeping with Tendou Nabiki's theory that modern audiences had the 
attention span of a coked-up hummingbird, the moment hardly began 
before the UltraTron monitors flared to life again.

It had to be said that, given so little raw material to work 
with, the video technicians for Ultra had done a pretty 
commendable job on the "Farewell to Johnny Cage" retrospective 
video.  They'd dug through the musty archives and brought forth 
impressive footage of the action hero performing his signature 
moves in the ring, bringing to bear all sorts of immensely clever 
directorial slight-of-hand to conceal the fact that most of these 
moves generally failed to do little more than annoy Cage's 
adversaries.  Watching the video spot, with its poignant heroic 
music and its carefully selected scenes, one might almost have 
gotten the impression that Cage had been a winning fighter in 
Ultra.

Which was sort of a shame, because virtually nobody ended up 
seeing it.

Just as the clip began to roll, a bright glow burst forth in the 
center of the ring.  All eyes watched in astonishment as space 
and time rent themselves asunder, calling into being a blazing 
red portal of energy.  

"Another gateway?" Hiroshi cried.  "Is it Nuku-Nuku?"

"No, don't you recognize that gate?" Daisuke gasped.  "It's..."

"Sephiroth!" Hiroshi exclaimed.

Through the writhing portal of energy stepped the dreaded One-
Winged Angel, his silver hair swirling in the maelstrom of power.  
Shrieks of genuine panic erupted from the audience - they had 
come to see battle and violence, but having the most dangerous 
fighter in Omega appear in their midst was more than they'd 
bargained for.  

Sephiroth ignored them all as if they were but insects.  Instead, 
he turned his mako-blue eyes to the main camera.

"I know you are watching," he said, his voice rich with ancient 
power.

"Who's he talking to?" Hiroshi asked.

"No idea," said Daisuke.

Sephiroth continued to address the camera.  "I wish to speak with 
you.  Personally."  He waited calmly, cocking his head slightly 
as if to better hear a response.

The crowd murmured in bewilderment and not inconsiderable fear.

"Yes?" the Son of Jenova said.  "Very good."

Much to the relief of all present, Sephiroth's gateway crackled 
to life once more, and the Omega powerhouse disappeared through 
the dimensional rift.  Highly astute observers might have noticed 
that the red energy of his portal was tinged with a hint of 
golden light as he disappeared.  Most of the people in the 
UltraDome just felt happy to see him go.

"Well, that was weird," Daisuke noted.  "What was that all 
about?"

"How about that Sephiroth?" Hiroshi asked the crowd in a voice 
which suggested that this was all just part of the show.  "We 
don't get to see him too often here in the Dome.  So let's hear 
it for the One-Winged Angel!"

Still not certain what had happened but feeling the potential for 
danger had passed, the crowd decided to go with what they knew.  
A round of boos and jeers echoed through the stadium - not with 
the deafening force which marked most of the UltraDome's dramatic 
moments, but loud enough for the audience to assure themselves 
that things were somehow going along as they should be.

That was good enough for Hiroshi.  "All right!" he belted 
cheerfully into the mike.  "Let's get ON with the SHOW!  It's 
time for our first match this evening!"

"Our opening fight is between two young men with a similar taste 
in clothes," Daisuke informed the crowd,  "but one is clearly the 
new kid on the block."

"But first," announced Hiroshi, "let's hear it for the veteran 
and two-time Gamma champ, the undisputed heir to the Anything-
Goes School of Martial Arts, Furinkan High's own... SAOTOME 
RANMA!"

On a one-to-ten scale for audience adulation, it sounded like 
Ranma measured somewhere between a seven and an eight.  Being the 
sort who was acutely conscious of how cool people thought he was 
(though of course he pretended not to care), Ranma took note of 
this as he jogged down the ramp towards the ring.  Back in his 
early days in this federation, he'd always ranked as a ten.

Sports entertainment memories were notoriously short - they'd 
probably forgiven him for that rather unpleasant time a few 
seasons back when he'd sort of lost perspective.  But they still 
didn't think he was great yet.  Very good, yes.  Not great.

"Very good" wouldn't do, not for Saotome Ranma.  It was time to 
start changing their minds.  

"Hey folks!" Ranma addressed the crowd, snatching the ring 
microphone.  "I got something to say to you guys - it's about 
that belt I wore last season.  The Gamma belt belongs on the best 
fighter in Ultra, right?"

The audience seemed to agree with this sentiment.

"Well, that's where it is," Ranma said.  "I hate to admit it, but 
I ain't gonna fool myself.  Sagat, you may be the biggest bald-headed 
jerk in the world, but you've proved yourself.  You earned that 
thing."

The fans favored the pig-tailed martial artist with polite 
applause in this matter.  Good sportsmanship certainly won 
brownie points, but only if he chose to follow it up with 
something a little tougher.  Ranma had every intention of doing 
just that.

"You know what?" Ranma asked.  "I'm GLAD you've got the belt!  I'm 
glad it's not some dumb knucklehead who won the thing by luck.  
Because when I kick your butt all over this ring, Sagat, I don't 
want there to be any question about WHO is the BEST in ULTRA!"

That was more like it, thought the screaming fans.

"I'm trainin' my hardest now," the Anything-Goes heir continued.  
"And it's all for one goal. So anybody else out there who wants a 
piece of me - and yeah, Iori, I DO mean you - can try and get in 
my way if they want.  But if you really want to get my attention, 
you gotta be wearin' that Gamma belt! I don't care about anything 
else!"

Ranma smiled as the audience soaked it up.  

"And Ranma lets the world know where he stands!" Hiroshi 
addressed the crowd.  "He's never been satisfied with anything 
but the brass ring, so Sagat had better watch out!"

"I'm sure Sagat is quaking in terror," Daisuke speculated 
sarcastically.  

"Ranma's opponent tonight isn't quaking," Hiroshi announced.  
"He's too busy bouncing off the walls!  Let's hear it for one of 
Ultra's newest young warriors, the NeoFighters sensation and 
master of film-fu... LI PING!"

Somewhere in the backstage catacombs of the UltraDome, The Great 
Yaga scowled at the television as the enthusiastic American 
teenager emerged into the spotlight.  He noted the boy wore 
nothing remotely like a neck brace, and did not seem injured in 
the slightest.  A nagging feeling tugged at him, but he shrugged 
it off.  Assuredly, the child had merely recovered faster than 
was first anticipated.

Li Ping did not wear his customary Chinese kung-fu costume, nor 
did he bounce down the aisle like a football on the moon.  
Instead, he positively strutted, decked out in a leather jacket 
and rather expensive looking sunglasses.  

"I recognize that look," Daisuke commented.

"And you should!" Li Ping said as he climbed into the ring.  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, you all know that I'm the number one fan 
of martial arts movies in the world.  This week has been pretty 
hard on me.  I lost someone who I considered to be a teacher, 
and, even though I hardly knew him in person... a friend."

A sympathetic "aww" arose from the gathered fans.

"Folks," the young fighter said, his voice thick with emotion.  
"This one is for Johnny Cage."

As the crowd roared in approval for Li's heartfelt gesture, the 
American removed his leather jacket and slowly took off his 
shades.  He turned to face Ranma, adopted a mirror-perfect 
version of Johnny Cage's fighting stance, and said:

"All right, let's dance."

][ GAMMA MATCH #1
][ Saotome Ranma vs. Li Ping
][ FIGHT!

Ranma advanced like a man moving forward in line at the bank - 
hands in his pockets, a look of ennui on his face.  "Hold on a 
sec," he drawled.  "You mean to tell me you're gonna try to fight 
me usin' Cage's weaksauce style?"

"That's right!" Li Ping answered enthusiastically.  "It's my way 
of saying goodbye to one of the great ones!"

"Oh come ON."  The young Saotome rolled his eyes.  "You gotta be 
kidding me!"

The NeoFighter's voice dropped into a lower register as he 
performed a fairly passable imitation of Cage's on-screen tough 
guy persona.  "'Talk is cheap,'" he (sort of) rasped.  "'But my 
skills are top dollar!'"

"Quoting directly from 'The Savage Stockbroker III - Return to 
Wall Street,' I believe," Hiroshi noted.

"Exactly!" Li Ping acknowledged.  "Take this!"  

In one amazingly fast and beautifully fluid motion, Li drew a 
cigarette lighter and a party sparkler from behind his back, lit 
the end of the firework, and hurled it at his adversary.

Ranma let the green sparkler bounce off his chest, where it 
fizzled out harmlessly on the mat.  "What was that supposed to 
be?" he asked.

"Johnny's Green Flame attack!" Li informed him.  He rubbed his 
hand behind his head sheepishly.  "I can't seem to get the hang 
of these ki-blast things.  So I asked myself, 'What would Johnny 
do?' Use a special effect, of course!"

Ranma smirked.  "Yep.  Just about as effective as the real 
thing."

"'You've gotten the last laugh for the last time,'" Li Ping 
quoted, dropping back into his Cage voice.

"From 'Gangland Gladiators, the Next Generation,'" Hiroshi 
supplied.

The American fighter leaped high into the air, executing a jump 
which Cage could only have achieved using a springboard and 
several strategic camera angles.  He somersaulted once, then 
landed in a crouch in front of Ranma.  Li rose into a towering 
uppercut, the sort designed to actually take your opponent's head 
clean off his body.

Of course, that only works if the opponent in question is 
wobbling around helplessly and has already had their head 
loosened up quite a bit.  Since none of these things was true of 
Ranma, the pig-tailed fighter simply stepped back and let the 
punch whiff through the air.  

Li wasted no time in following up.  He snapped a kick out at 
Ranma's head, which missed by about a good yard.  Then he planted 
his feet and launched into a punching combination - a left, a right, 
a left, a right... and so on.  The pattern was actually rather 
predictable. Ranma had dodged more dangerous attacks in his 
sleep.

"And Ranma hasn't even taken his hands out of his pockets yet," 
Daisuke observed.  

"He may LOOK like he's not trying hard," Hiroshi informed the 
crowd, "but don't be fooled!  That's a specialty of the Anything-
Goes technique - to dodge your opponent while making it SEEM like 
you're not really trying!  It's designed to wear down your foe, 
break his morale, and force him to make a mistake!"

"I think Li Ping is making his mistakes without any help from 
Ranma," Daisuke quipped.

"Would you just give it up?" Ranma chided.

"Not yet!" Li Ping cried.  With that, he suddenly dropped into a 
split-legged stance and launched a punch directly at Ranma's 
crotch.  

This might have been a surprising move if Ranma hadn't already 
seen it used a dozen times.  As it was, he simply hopped back out 
of range of the attack.  He then lashed out and kicked one of Li 
Ping's extended feet with considerable force.  

The blow sent the split-legged young fighter spinning across the 
canvas like a wobbly top.  In a rather impressive display of 
coordination and flexibility, Li Ping leaned back and used his 
circular momentum to shift into a breakdancer's spin, whirling on 
his back across the ring.  Once he'd gained control of his 
velocity, he popped out of his spin like a cork and landed deftly 
on his feet.

"'This ain't over!'" he warned his foe, once again imitating the 
late action hero.  "'Only one of us is gonna be awake to hear the 
fat lady sing, and it's gonna be me!'"

"A memorable moment from 'The Violent Blue Nightfiend Rises 
Again,' of course," Hiroshi recalled.

Daisuke gave his partner a sidelong look.  "You seem to know a 
lot about Johnny's films.  Did he ever make anything that WASN'T 
a sequel?"

Hiroshi blinked and rummaged through his memories.  "Uh...  huh.  
Er..."

"I thought so," Daisuke said.

In the ring, Li Ping pulled off what was assuredly Cage's most 
effective and powerful move - the Shadow Kick.  He hurled himself 
towards Ranma, sliding across the ring towards his foe and 
leaving a trail of shadowy images behind him in his wake.  

Ranma ducked under the Shadow Kick and executed a simple sweep of 
his own, catching Li directly on the shin.  The NeoFighter 
tumbled awkwardly to the mat, his shadowy images providing 
several entertaining snapshots of him upending and going down 
hard.  His momentum carried his body in a sprawling roll away 
from Ranma.

"Look, buddy," Ranma said.  "Your problem here is that I've 
already seen all these dumb moves.  I can see 'em from a mile 
away.  I've seen Cage fight, and I've seen as many action films 
as you..."

"NOBODY has seen as many action films as ME!" Li Ping trumpeted 
with surprising vehemence, springing off the mat into a fighting 
stance.  

"Geez, I just meant..."

"I'll prove it!" the American exclaimed.  "I'll bet you never saw 
'Enter Yet Another Dragon, The Final Chapter Part IV!'  Did you?"

Ranma shrugged.  "Uh, never heard of it."

Daisuke turned to his partner.  "What about you?"

Hiroshi seemed genuinely impressed.  "That's a new one on me, 
too!  Did that film really exist?"

"It never made it to the theatres!  It was only released on 
Betamax!" Li Ping cried triumphantly.  "A true cult classic.  And 
if you haven't seen it, you'll never be prepared... for THIS!"

As Ranma watched with wide eyes, Li Ping hurled himself skyward, 
positively soaring from the sheer force of his leap.  He spun 
through the air like a bullet rifled from a gun, then twisted to 
plant his feet against the bottom of the UltraTron monitor bank.  
"ABSOLUTE EVERYTHING ATTACK!" he roared, launching himself 
towards Saotome Ranma.

It seemed that the point of this attack was to strike out 
simultaneously with both hands and both feet at the same time 
while hurtling through the air at high velocity.  The effect made 
Li Ping look rather like a Koala bear shot out of a cannon.

Ranma sidestepped, and Li streaked by him and planted hard into 
the turnbuckle.  The "gong" of his head slamming into the sturdy 
post echoed painfully through the UltraDome.

"That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen," Ranma commented.  
He watched as the referee administered the ten-count to the prone 
Li Ping.

"Well, an easy victory for Ranma," Daisuke observed.

"But still an exciting match, wouldn't you say?" Hiroshi 
enthused.  "A lot of incredible attacks and spectacular defensive 
moves!"

"I wouldn't go that fa... hey, Li Ping is getting up."

Ranma, who'd been on his way out of the ring, turned in surprise.  
Li Ping was on his feet, raising his hands triumphantly to the 
crowd and basking in applause.  

"Yes!" the action fan addressed the fans, tears glittering in his 
eyes.  "That was the Johnny Cage we knew and loved, folks!  He 
may not have been much of a fighter, but the man knew how to 
entertain! Thank you!"

"Hey!" Ranma cried indignantly.  "What gives here?  Did you just 
take a fall on purpose?"

"Oh, sure!" Li informed him.  He did not seem particularly 
disoriented or even very hurt.  "Can you think of a more fitting 
way to pay tribute to Johnny?"

For a moment, Ranma seemed like he was about to get angry.  But 
then a wry look crossed his face, and he studied Li carefully.  
"You're tougher than I gave you credit for," he admitted.  "Maybe 
you want to try fightin' me for real next time."

"Count on it!" Li promised. 

"Good," the young Saotome said.  "I'm lookin' forward to it."

- - - - -

Backstage, Tendou Nabiki barely had a moment to pay attention to 
the fight in the arena.  She leaned forward over her 
speakerphone, fingers clutched against the edge of her desk.  
"You mean the gates are completely down?" she asked.

"That's right," the technician on the other end of the line 
informed her.  "Washuu's taken them off line.  And she's cut off 
communication through the UltraPod.  We can't even reach her, 
ma'am."

"Great.  Just great!" Nabiki stabbed the cut-off button and 
glowered. 

"No telling how long it will take her to find the cat-girl," 
Tarou said quietly.  "Until then, I don't think she'll be 
restoring the gateway system."

"How the hell are we supposed to set up the Omega fight?" Nabiki 
demanded, pacing in frustration.  "We've got one more match 
before it's scheduled to start.  Could that old Harrier jet that 
Jack bought get to the Arctic Circle in time?"

"That thing?" Tarou sniffed.  "I wouldn't trust it to take me 
across the street."

"Damn it all," Nabiki spat.  "Well, that's it.  We're going to 
have to cancel the fight.  At least there was only one Omega 
match on the card..."

"Hold on," Tarou interjected.  "Is Ifurita around?"

"Somewhere," Nabiki replied.  "She was set to referee the Omega 
match...  oh!" Realization dawned.

"Ifurita is capable of creating gateways by herself," the Chinese 
fighter said as Nabiki nodded.  "She can just take that Alberto 
character along for the ride when she teleports there."

"And what about Ultraman?" 

Tarou shrugged and smiled a bit.  "He seems to be able to get 
around under his own power.  It's not like you were planning to 
gate him there before, is it?"

"No, that's true," the Ultra CEO admitted.  "Right.  That's a 
good plan."

"I'll go inform the wind-up girl," Tarou offered.  "Besides... 
there's something else I want to check out."

"Oh?"

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.  "Washuu didn't seem to think 
that quake was an accident," he recalled.  "And you didn't catch 
the saboteur from last week yet.  I'm concerned that we might be 
in for more trouble."

Nabiki clenched her teeth.  "Wonderful.  That's JUST what we 
need.  Our own pet terrorist."

"Not a very well housebroken pet, either," Tarou noted.  

"All right," she commanded.  "Go check it out.  I'll see you in a 
little while."

Pantyhose Tarou turned and rushed out of the office.  Or rather, 
this is what he attempted to do.  In his haste to depart, he 
collided hard with another person in the doorway.  Tarou smacked 
into the surprised cleaning lady, knocking the unfortunate woman 
flat on her back.

The jug of water for the office plants she'd been carrying 
upended, splashing its contents over Tarou's body.  

Nabiki jerked back, expecting to see Tarou transform into his 
monstrous cursed form... and nothing happened.  He simply stood 
there, wet and blinking, as the cleaning lady apologized for 
running into him.

"Tarou?" the young CEO asked.  "You... your curse?"

The Chinese fighter wiped the water off his face.  "Oh yes.  
That."

"What happened?" 

"I had it cured," he told her, trying to sound like it was no big 
deal.

"You did?" Nabiki studied him, surprised.  "You found a cure?"

"A one-time thing," he said, shifting uncomfortably.  "Can't 
share it with fem-boy and his buddies, even if I wanted."

"But why?" she asked.

A cloud seemed to pass in front of Tarou's face.  "A curse like 
that can be a very dangerous thing, when you don't want to be 
recognized," he whispered.

"Tarou?"

"I had to do it to infiltrate Shadowlaw," he told her.  "One 
stray splash of water, like this one, and it... would have been 
very bad for me." He closed his eyes and frowned.  "Only a fool 
would have attempted to go undercover with such a curse upon him.  
Only a fool."  

His voice seemed to carry an undertone of pain.  Nabiki thought 
she understood why.  "I'm sorry, Tarou.  That must've been quite 
a sacrifice for you."

He studied her warily.

"I mean," she continued, "I know you liked being able to 
transform into another powerful body like that."

"Oh."  An ironic smile made its way onto his face.  "Yes.  I did 
say that, didn't I?"

"Are you all right?"

He nodded briefly.  "Fine, Ms. Tendou," he assured her.  "But I'd 
better be going.  Lots of work to do.  If you'll excuse me..."

With that, he darted out of the office to his tasks.  Nabiki 
watched him go, still surprised about the revelation of his cure, 
but she didn't have much time to dwell on it at the moment.  The 
show had to go on.

- - - - -

In the mind-numbing vastness of the multi-dimensional universe, 
it would be harder to find a more secure location than Washuu's 
laboratory.  The building - if such a mundane term can really be 
applied to the place - existed in some unfathomable fold of 
space-time which brazenly defied all logic and left the 
imagination gasping for air.  A person would need three lifetimes 
worth of degrees in quantum physics simply to understand how she 
got the plumbing to work.

Getting to the laboratory, even with permission from its creator, 
took tremendous power.  Trying to force your way into Washuu's 
domain was a sure way to end up with your component molecules 
scattered across several different realities.  

But no matter how many probability warps and trans-dimensional 
barriers Washuu erected around her home, Mary could make a path 
to the laboratory with as much effort as it took to turn a doorknob.  
And since the power of her will guided Sephiroth, the One-Winged 
Angel stepped through the swirling gateway without triggering so 
much as a single alarm.

"Hello, Mr. Sephiroth," Mary greeted him. 

"Mary," he purred.  "I'm pleased that you wished to see me.  I 
have much to say to you."

"Are you hungry?" Mary asked.  From the stains on her overalls, 
it appeared she'd already been eating chocolate.  She seemed to 
have gotten a fair amount of it in her hair as well.  "I could 
get you something to eat."

"Manna, perhaps? Or might it be loaves and fishes?" Sephiroth 
asked with a wry smile.

The eight-year old blinked at him uncomprehendingly.  "You want 
some fish?"

"I am not hungry," he informed her.  

"Mommy taught me to offer food for guests, 'cause it's polite," 
Mary confided.  She bit her lip and fiddled with her hair.  "I 
think she'd be mad if she knew I let you in."

"And what would she do?" Sephiroth queried, watching her keenly.  
"Would she punish you?"

"Yeah," Mary admitted.  "I think I'd be grounded."

"And is that right, Mary?" inquired the Son of Jenova.  "Do you 
consider it right for her to punish you?"

Mary cocked her head, as if she hadn't ever considered the 
question before.  "Um... I think so.  When you break the rules, 
that's when you get punished.  That's how it works."

Sephiroth inhaled deeply through his nose and smiled.  
"Interesting," he breathed.  "It is refreshing to know you think 
that way, my dear."

"Why is that?"

For the moment, Sephiroth didn't answer her question, though it 
was a point he intended to address soon.  Instead, he posed a 
query of his own.  "Why did you agree to see me, Mary?  Did you 
have something you wished to say to me?"

"Um... yeah," the girl responded.  "I wanted to thank you for 
being nice to Dan, Mr. Sephiroth.  At that fight."

"Ah," the ex-SOLDIER nodded.  "Being nice to Dan.  Yes.  Do you 
know why I did that, Mary?  Why I forfeited that contest?"

She shook her head.  "I could tell you were gonna," she said, "I 
could just feel it.  But Mommy told me it's rude to read peoples' 
minds, so I didn't." 

"My mind is open to you, Mary," Sephiroth told her, and it was 
true.  He had come here knowing that it would be impossible to 
hide anything from her.  Lies and deceit could never stand 
beneath her gaze, but that did not matter.  The truth was all he 
would need.

"Are you saying you want me to read your mind?" the child asked, 
uncertain.

"I'm saying," Sephiroth explained, "that a rule such as that one 
should not apply to you.  And that is why I forfeited the match, 
though I won the battle.  I did not do it to be nice to Dan."

"I don't understand."

"I did it," he said, "because it was wrong to set a condition to 
bind you.  You were the 'prize,' Mary, but then I recognized that 
such a thing is an unforgivable insult to what you truly are. You 
are not to be bound by the strictures of others.  You are not 
meant to go meekly along with the rules which another person 
sets.  You are a law unto yourself, and no authority should ever 
be higher."

Mary gave him a wary look.  "That doesn't sound right to me."

Mako-blue eyes shimmered before her.  "That is because you do not 
yet know what you truly are."

"What do you mean?"

It was as he'd suspected - Washuu had not told her.  That was 
good.  "You are power incarnate, Mary.  You are the alpha and the 
omega, the beginning and the end.  You are the source from which 
all justice must flow.  You are the physical embodiment of divinity... 
the Living Godhead."

The eight-year old girl shook her head slowly.  "I don't know 
that word," she told him.

"Yet you know that you are not Washuu's daughter," Sephiroth 
pressed.

"She's my mommy," Mary insisted.

"But you are not of her flesh," Sephiroth countered.  "Did you 
not know that?"

The young messiah looked away from his eyes.  "I know," she said.  
"But I don't care."

"If you know that you are not born of her blood," the One-Winged 
Angel continued, "then you must have suspected there is another 
reason for you to be here.  Have you sensed this to be true?"

"I'm here to help people," Mary said simply.

"Of course," Sephiroth agreed.  "But how do you intend to do 
that?"

"With love," the child told him.

"You answer from the heart," he whispered.  "But the heart can be 
blind, and unwise.  Love is not enough for you, Mary.  You 
believe that love is a wonderful thing, but you do not realize 
how very cruel it can be, how much terrible, terrible pain it can 
cause."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

Sephiroth looked over her shoulder, towards the sophisticated 
projection unit which doubled as Washuu's television.  Images of 
Ultra danced along the screen, although Mary had politely turned 
off the sound before he arrived.  "Let me show you what I mean," 
he told her.

She turned and looked at the screen.  "Ultra?"

"Yes," the Son of Jenova agreed, his voice as smooth as fine 
satin.  "Let us start with Ultra..."

- - - - -

"Welcome back, folks!" Hiroshi cheered as Ultra returned from its 
commercial break.  "And we've got another Gamma match ready to 
rock for you!  Tonight we're doing our best to keep it in the 
Dome, so all the action is right here IN your FACE!"

"What he means to say," Daisuke clarified, "is that we can't 
afford to put on a bunch of Omega matches right now."

"Aw," the spastic announcer sulked. "You're no fun anymore."

His partner shot a glare at him.  "You'd better not be trying out 
another catch phrase on me, Hiro."

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Hiroshi assured him glibly.  "Now, let's 
introduce our fighters!  We have something really special in 
store for you here, folks.  I am PROUD to present to you the 
newest addition to the ranks of Ultra!"

Daisuke picked up the introduction.  "Our new competitor comes to 
us from Hong Kong, but has been working the beat in Japan for the 
past few years.  You might have seen him in the papers - he's 
busted a lot of bad guys out there."

"And he's come here to bust some heads in the ring!" Hiroshi 
continued.  "Ladies and Gentlemen, let's have an ultrocious 
welcome for Tokyo PD's own 'Super-cop'... Lieutenant LEI 
WULONG!!"

The aforementioned detective strode down the ramp, taking in the 
sight of the packed UltraDome for the first time in person.  He'd 
fought in a number of tournaments of various caliber in the past, 
but never before quite so many people.  The noise took some 
getting used to, and the crowd wasn't even going anywhere near 
full blast.

Lei was about to climb into the ring, but remembered what Nabiki 
had said about entertainment.  He gathered his legs beneath him, 
then leaped from a standstill at the base of the ring, cleared 
the top rope with a pivoting aerial kick, and landed deftly on 
the mat.

The crowd seemed to like that well enough.  Lei smiled and bowed 
slightly in the face of their applause.  He wondered if he should 
try to say something, but the announcers began to speak before he 
had a chance to decide.

"Facing the new challenger," Hiroshi informed the crowd, "we have 
a man who's normally fights alongside his partner and fellow 
SeeD... let's hear it for Zell Dincht, folks!"

The muscular young man with the face tattoos and rooster 
hairstyle bounded like an excited cat down the ramp, decked out 
in his baggy shorts, bright shirt, and leather gloves.  Since 
he'd gone to great lengths to establish himself as a mean, dirty 
fighter almost immediately after his introduction into Ultra, the 
fans favored him with a thorough round of jeers.  

To help reinforce the crowd's sentiment, he promptly gave them 
the finger after climbing into the ring.  This elicited a rather 
robust chorus of derisive boos.  

"Yeah, yeah," Zell said, favoring the audience with a Billy Idol 
sneer he'd practiced in the mirror.  "Go ahead whine, you saps!  
I get my paycheck either way!"

And the crowd continued to let him hear their disapproval.  

"So what?" he responded, shrugging it off.  "But I tell you, 
people, I'm going to enjoy earning my money tonight!  Because 
lookee what we have here!"  He turned to face Lei, then clasped 
his hands together in mock terror.  "Oooh!  It's a big bad 
policeman!"

Lei decided to play this one cool.  He simply crossed his arms 
and raised an eyebrow, letting this weird kid thrash around and 
make a bunch of noise if he wanted.

Zell continued to do just that.  "Well let me tell you something, 
Mr. So-called Super-cop!  You can't hide behind your badge in 
this ring, man!  In Ultra, we MAKE the law... with our FISTS!"  
He reared back and punched downwards at the mat for emphasis, 
sending out a considerable shockwave across the mat.

Two decades as a police officer had honed Lei Wulong's 
observational skills to a razor edge.  In order to survive and 
thrive in his job, he'd become an exceptional judge of character.  
This guy, he decided, was mostly blowing smoke, but there were 
probably a few things he could say to really get under his skin.  
Such as...

"Hey, kid," he called out.  "Do you actually fight, or do you 
just sit there and cluck like a chicken?"

"Chicken?" Zell repeated, seeming genuinely irritated.  "Did you 
just call me..."

"First name, 'Chicken,'" Lei reported to the crowd.  "Last name, 
'Wuss.'  Subject is wanted for being a loudmouth, disturbing the 
peace, and having incredibly bad hair."

"CHICKEN WUSS?" the SeeD shouted angrily.  

"Would it help you shut up if I told you that you have the right 
to remain silent?" Lei asked.  

"You have the right to a busted FACE, old man!" Zell bellowed.  
"Now bring it on!"

Lei nodded to the referee, as if it were his job to give the cue.  
"Ring the bell," he instructed.  "Let's start this fight."

][ GAMMA MATCH #2
][ Zell Dincht vs. Lei Wulong
][ FIGHT!

Zell skipped forward, dancing rhythmically from one foot to the 
next as he came.  Lei's taunting hadn't really angered him as 
much as he pretended, though the "chicken-wuss" thing did sort of 
get on his nerves.  He'd play the part of the bad guy and pretend 
to get all hot under the collar, but that didn't mean he was 
going to charge in and start swinging blindly.  He knew better 
than that.

Lei advanced under control, sizing up his young adversary.  The 
kid had adopted some sort of kickboxer stance, hopping around 
like a jumping bean.  A ton of energy, probably reflexes like a 
snake, and from that punch on the mat it was clear that he was 
even stronger than he looked.  Lei could tell this guy carried a 
whole lot of muscle into a fight, and he had the skills to really 
hurt you.

But kickboxers tended to think fighting was all about 
straightforward strength.  It was a hard style, without much 
appreciation for just how powerful softness could really be.  

He let Zell initiate the first attack.  The crazy-haired 
mercenary threw a couple of blinding jabs, probing for openings, 
then snapped out with a kick towards Lei's gut.  The detective 
blocked the attacks, then shifted into a panther stance.

Zell looked at this and frowned.

He'd seen these kind of guys before, and never been very 
impressed.  Animal style martial arts; kung fu, on this world.  
You were supposed to learn to fight like a tiger or a crane or a 
snake - whatever.  It meant a lot of weird poses and funky-
looking attacks, but Zell thought it was all pretty much bunk.  
If you're a human, you should learn to fight like a human.  
Pretending to be a tiger when you didn't have claws was just 
silly.  

The young Seed waggled his fingers at Lei.  "Oooh!  Look at the 
kitty-cat!  Are you gonna try that lame-assed crap on me, man?  
That looks real nice when you're showing off, but on the street 
it doesn't mean SQUAT!"

With that, he lunged in with a straight kick, plowing towards Lei 
with enough power to shatter concrete.

Lei seemed to melt like a wraith out of the way of the attack, 
letting the kick slide by him a hair's breadth away from his 
head.  He raked with curved fingers at Zell's chest, slashing 
twice before following up with a fierce kick to the temple.  

The young mercenary's reflexes turned out to be even sharper than 
the policeman had believed.  As he staggered back, the SeeD 
whipped a backhanded punch against Lei's jaw.  He was off-balance 
and couldn't put his full power behind it, but the blow still 
smarted. 

The detective recovered in a dragon stance, and waited.  "The 
street, you say?  I know all about what it takes to win on the 
street."

Zell shuffled across the mat, encircling his foe.  "That wasn't 
bad," he said, smiling as he wiped a bead of sweat off his chin.  
"Let's see what else you got."

"What a display of skill, folks!" Hiroshi enthused as the two 
fighters joined in combat again.  "This is a clash of two 
incredible martial arts powerhouses!"

"This time, you aren't just indulging in hyperbole," Daisuke 
admitted.  "These two use very different fighting styles, but 
it's hard to see if either has a real advantage."

"Zell has youth and strength on his side..." Hiroshi began.

"... while Lei has the edge in technique and experience," Daisuke 
finished.

"Who can guess the outcome of a match like this?" the hyper 
announcer whooped.  "It could go either way, folks!"

Back at the mouth of the fighters' entryway, there was at least 
one person in the stadium cheering for Zell Dincht.  Selphie 
Tilmitt, a fellow SeeD and Zell's Lambda partner, jumped up and 
down and pumped her fist in the air as she watched the show.

"Woo-hoo!" she cheered.  "Give it to him, Zell!  Ooh, that had to 
hurt.  Don't let him get away with that!  Go, go, go!"

The young fighter clad in yellow put her hands to her mouth and 
shouted encouragement, but something nagged at the back of her 
mind.  Like there was something she was supposed to be doing, but 
had somehow forgotten.  

Selphie paused, thinking it over as she watched Lei pound her 
partner's head with a tornado kick.

'Oh yeah,' she thought.  'We're supposed to be the bad guys.  I 
should be cheating!'

She knew that Zell wouldn't be too happy if she interfered in one 
of his fights, but a job was a job.  The Garden-trained mercenary 
ducked low to keep hidden from the fighters in the ring and crept 
her way down the ramp.

In the ring, the match raged on.

One thing was certain, Zell thought.  He was going to have 
reconsider his opinion about this animal style business.  This 
guy wasn't just doing forms for an exhibition - he really knew 
how to fight with this stuff.  He hit with his wrists, his knees, 
his elbows - Lei could hurt you with pretty much any part of his 
body, and Zell found it almost impossible to predict where the 
next attack would come.

Lei, for his part, wondered how much it would take to put this 
young buck to the ground.  The kid's technique wasn't very 
complicated, but his instincts made him a serious threat.  Zell 
was the sort who counterattacked when hurt instead of retreating, 
making you pay for almost every shot you landed.  That made it 
especially dangerous to press any kind of serious attack.

And for all his chatter and bluster, Zell was a more mature 
fighter than Lei had reckoned.  He didn't look like he was going 
to get impatient and start making foolish mistakes.  

So it was time to take a bit of a risk.

As Zell initiated his next attack rush, Lei deliberately left him 
an opening in his guard, dropping his left hand just a fraction 
too low for safety, and hoping the boy's reflexes would do what 
he expected.

The SeeD fighter saw the opening and struck without hesitation, 
unloading a savage haymaker at Lei's head.  The punch landed 
solid, snapping the policeman's entire body around from the force 
of the impact.

"And Zell lands a wicked shot!" Hiroshi trumpeted.

"Lei looks like he's pretty stunned," Daisuke observed.

Indeed, Lei Wulong barely seemed able to keep his feet underneath 
him.  His eyes came unfocused and he staggered back away from his 
foe - it seemed like all he could do to keep his balance.  

'One more good shot, and that's it!' Zell thought.  He plunged in 
to attack rearing back to let fly with a pulverizing kick at his 
adversary's skull.

Lei swooned out of the way, dipped around on wobbly ankles, and 
then planted his head in Zell's chest like a cannonball.

"He was faking it!" cried Hiroshi.  

'Damn...' Zell thought as the impact knocked the wind out of his 
lungs.  'Drunken-style fighting... he caught me off-guard...'

Lei wasted no time in pressing his advantage.  He took hold of 
Zell's shoulders and hopped up, planting both his feet on the 
young fighter's chest.  The Super-cop kicked off with a double-
foot stomp, and Zell's ribcage absorbed the entire force of the 
blow.  

The recoil from the attack sent the two fighters flying apart - 
Lei somersaulting through the air to land on his feet in one 
corner, Zell tumbling like a rag doll into the other corner to 
land in a sprawl.

"And Lei just flattened Zell Dincht, folks!" Hiroshi exclaimed.  
"It looks like the ref's about to start the ten count... but 
WAIT!  Is that Selphie at the edge of the ring?  Has she come to 
help out her partner?"

"No, I suspect she's here to give Lei a charitable donation for 
the police retirement fund," Daisuke deadpanned.  

The yellow-clad SeeD hopped up onto the outer edge of the ring, 
clinging to the top rope.  "Hey ref!" she shouted, jabbing a 
finger towards the rafters.  "Look!  A three-headed monkey!"

As cheating attempts went, it ranked as pretty feeble.  But the 
referee had been hand-picked for job in Ultra by virtue of his 
incurable gullibility, and he took the bait.  The little man 
whirled towards the direction Selphie pointed, peering hawkishly 
through his slablike spectacles.  "Really?  A three-headed one, 
huh?  Where?"

Lei couldn't believe his eyes.  "Where do they dig these guys 
up?" he wondered aloud.  He turned to Selphie angrily.  "And YOU!  
What do you think you're doing?"

The mercenary girl thrust a rake-thin arm in the air.  "Cheating! 
Tee hee!"

"Of course," Lei muttered.

She extended her hand towards him, palm outwards.  "THUNDER!" she 
commanded, calling into being a sizzling bolt of electricity.

Lei threw himself aside as the attack crackled by.  He'd grown 
accustomed to dodging gunfire and ki-blasts, so spells weren't 
that big of a stretch.  Still, the girl had a range advantage 
with these kinds of attacks, and there was only one way to cope 
with that.  

The policeman took off in a sprint, charging headlong towards 
Selphie.  She gathered her power, warming up another spell in her 
hand, and it was clear that Lei had no chance of reaching her 
before she fired.

"THUNDER!" she called again, and the bolt whipped forth.

Lei threw himself low at the last second, transforming his charge 
into a baseball-style slide which carried him cleanly under the 
pulse of electricity.  His foot collided hard with Selphie's 
shins, knocking her feet back off the lip of the mat.

The SeeD girl went down hard, cracking her chin against the top rope 
and rattling her teeth.  She bounced backwards, tumbled away from 
the ring, and crashed head-first into the Spanish announcer's 
table (which, in a classic case of overreaction, exploded into a 
fine spray of sawdust).  

"Ouch..." Selphie mumbled dizzily.

"Still don't see that monkey," the ref muttered, craning his neck 
for a better look.  "Is it behind the spotlight?"

"Selphie looks like she's down for the moment... but look!" 
Hiroshi pointed.  "Zell is back up!  And check out that battle 
aura...""

"This could be trouble for Lei," Daisuke predicted.  "I think 
Zell has reached his Limit..."

"I ain't done with you yet!" Zell cried, his aura pulsing a 
scintillating red as he charged Lei like a bull. "PUNCH RUSH!"

Lei scrambled in an effort to dodge the rejuvenated fighter's 
assault, but he wasn't prepared for the enhanced strength and 
speed of Zell's Limit Break.  The SeeD's glowing fist hit him 
like a battering ram in the chest, sending him reeling.

"HEEL DROP!" Zell snarled, following up with an axe-kick that 
connected like a falling anvil.  Lei cried out in pain.  Another 
hit like that...

The blonde fighter pressed his attack.  His leather gloves 
throbbed with energy as he launched into the next assault.  
"BURNING RAVE!" he snarled, and the air sizzled with the sheer 
power of his strike.

But Lei wasn't there to take the hit.  

The detective threw himself face-first on the mat in a startling, 
extreme evasion.  Zell stumbled over Lei's body, Burning Rave 
fizzling out as he caught nothing but air.  His concentration 
disrupted, Zell's super-charged battle aura sputtered and faded.

>From his prone position on the mat, Lei lashed out with a two-
footed mule kick that smacked his opponent in the small of the 
back, then flipped back up to his feet.  A grim resolve burned in 
his eyes as the disoriented Zell rotated around to face him 
again.

"My turn," he hissed.

Suddenly, it seemed as if the kung fu master was everywhere at 
once, lashing out with a bewildering array of attacks at his 
powerful young adversary.  He flowed like rushing water from one 
stance to the next - crane, snake, monkey, tiger, dragon - 
letting the motions of his own attacks carry him seamlessly into 
each new posture.  The blows came from everywhere, raining down 
relentlessly on the battered Zell Dincht.

Finally, with one final spiraling kick, he planted Zell face-
first on the mat.  This time, the SeeD would not be getting up so 
soon.

Lei sucked a few deep breaths in and mopped a smear of blood from 
his lip. 

"And Zell goes down hard!"  Hiroshi cried.  "But wait!  The ref 
hasn't made the count yet!"

"I don't even know if I believe there is such a thing," the 
referee grumbled skeptically, still searching the ceiling.  "A 
two-headed monkey?  Okay, I can accept that.  But three heads? I 
don't know..."

"Hey!" Lei gasped, waving a hand in front of the ref's face.  
"Do... you mind?"

"Hmm?" the little man said, turning to see what was going on.  
With a bit of pointing from Lei, he managed to notice the softly 
moaning Zell Dincht crumpled in the corner.  "Oh.  Yes.  Um... 
TenNineEightSevenSixFiveFourThreeTwoOne," he rattled off with 
machine-gun like speed.  "There.  Now, back to the monkey..."

Lei shook his head in mystified wonder as the ref turned to study 
the rafters again.

"It's official, folks!" Hiroshi informed the audience.  
"Lieutenant Lei Wulong wins his first match in Ultra!  What a 
great start for the man with the badge!"

The audience cheered heartily, always appreciating a good knock-
down drag-out brawl.  Lei wanted nothing more than to haul 
himself out of the ring and put a few dozen ice packs on his  
aching body, but he still recalled what Tendou Nabiki had told 
him about putting on a good show.  

Willing away the pain for the moment, the detective took hold of 
the ring microphone and addressed the crowd.  "For years now," he 
said, hoping he could improvise something that made at least a 
little sense, "I've been watching this federation.  I'm proud to 
be here now, in the most prestigious combat tournament in the 
world!"

The crowd applauded on cue.  They always liked it when someone 
complimented Ultra.

"But there's another reason I'm here," Lei told them.  "As a 
police officer, I believe in justice.  And that is something 
sorely missing from Ultra!"

He pointed at Zell as the blonde's partner helped him to his 
feet.  "Punks like this are bad enough," he said.  "I'm used to 
teaching lessons to disrespectful loudmouths, like I did to this 
one tonight!

His grip tightened on the mike, and he swept a hand in a wide 
gesture.  "But there are vermin lurking in the shadows of 
Ultra who are much, much worse than that!  Scum of the earth that 
I would love nothing more than to see BEHIND BARS!"

Lei surprised himself with the vehemence of his own words, and 
continued, his voice hoarse from exertion but bursting with 
emotion.  "You know who you are!  I may not be able to throw the 
book at you like I really want, but here in this ring... under 
these lights... I CAN show you what justice feels like!"  

The audience roared in approval.  Lei felt himself caught up in 
the surging tide of their emotions, and his ragged voice 
thundered across the loudspeakers.  

"I will bring JUSTICE to Ultra!  I promise you that tonight!  I 
will not leave until I fulfill that vow!"

He cast aside the microphone.  With the clamor of the audience 
swelling through his bones, he suddenly didn't feel so tired and 
hurt after all.  Lei leaped over the edge of the ring, flipping 
high over the top rope, and landed at a run on the ramp.  He 
hadn't felt quite this energized in years.

This, he thought, was going to be more fun than he'd expected.

- - - - - 

Beneath the stands in the great coliseum, two champions stood in 
front of a break room television and watched the results of the match 
on the screen.  The Gamma and Hardcore beltholders did not quite 
qualify as friends, but they at least understood one another.  
Nobody else really cared to even try to share their company.

Sagat folded his muscular arms against his scarred chest and 
gazed at the television with his single eye.  "So, that's the so-
called 'Super-cop.'  How amusing."

Vega tossed his silky mane of hair and snorted.  "You may find 
him interesting, but I do not.  He is nothing compared to me," 
the narcissistic Spaniard asserted haughtily.  

Sagat let out a bark of laughter.  "Are you speaking of skill or 
beauty, Vega?"

"Take your pick," the Hardcore champ said with a smile.

"Hmmph."  The Muay Thai fighter scratched his chin thoughtfully.  
"I recall he arrested Balrog several years ago.  A pity I never 
faced him directly on the street."

"You may still get your chance in the ring, if such a thing 
interests you," Vega said, noting a minute imperfection in his 
manicure.  In the old days, he could have killed the stylist for 
an affront such as that.  Life after Bison took a bit of getting 
used to.

"Perhaps," Sagat said.  "Perhaps I just might."

- - - - -

In a place so far removed from the UltraDome that no conventional 
measurement could truly describe the distance, Sephiroth and Mary 
watched the aftermath of the fight on the television.  The One-
Winged Angel waited patiently through the post-fight chatter.  
This was not precisely how he wished to spend his time with the 
God-child, but he could afford to take it slowly.  

Mary pointed at Zell and Selphie on the screen as the two 
fighters left the ring.  "See them?" she said.  "They act all 
bad, but really they're nice inside."

"Oh?" Sephiroth raised an eyebrow.

"I think most people are like that, Mr. Sephiroth," she told him.  
"They have good in them.  But it doesn't always show."

"Is that what you think of me, child?" the ex-SOLDIER asked.

"Yes," Mary said simply.  "You weren't always this way.  Your 
mommy told you to do bad things, and it made you change."

"Ah, is that what you believe?" The Son of Jenova smiled faintly.  
"No, my dear, you misinterpret.  My mother merely opened my eyes.  
The truth I saw... perhaps my initial reaction was extreme, but I 
would not go back to being a blind fool."

"What truth?" Mary asked.

"I will show you, rather than tell you."  Sephiroth gestured at 
the television.  "It is unlikely that the program tonight will 
provide any illumination on the matter.  I wish to show you 
something else."

"But I like Ultra," the child complained.

"Of course.  And who do you like most in Ultra, apart from your 
adopted mother?"

"DAN!" Mary exclaimed without hesitation.  "I'm sorry, I know he 
makes you mad, but I really do like him."

"I know," Sephiroth purred.  He indicated the television screen 
once again.  "Show me.  Show me this man you admire."

The great screen flickered, the commercials dissolving away as 
Mary extended her will...  

        ...the Pink Wonder of Ultra burst into view, executing his 
        world-famous Saikyo taunting moves in a montage formed from 
        Mary's fond memories.  Dan rolled, taunted, and flexed his 
        manly forearm, daring all foes to face him in honorable 
        combat and fall to his mighty fists...

Sephiroth had a dignified image to maintain, but even he found it 
difficult to keep from rolling his eyes.

"Do you want to know why I like him?" Mary asked.

"Not particularly," Sephiroth informed her stiffly. 

"Oh."

"Though I admit, he has a certain charisma," the One-Winged Angel 
said, rather surprisingly.  "Loathe him though I do, I cannot 
help but confess that there are many people who admire Dan, who 
strive to be like him."

"He's really famous," Mary agreed.

Sephiroth nodded gently at the screen.  "Show me, Mary.  Show me 
some of the people who like him.  Let us look at those fans who 
want to be like your hero, Dan."

Mary cocked her head, both confused and intrigued by the request.  
"Okay," she agreed.

The image on the screen changed... 
        
        ... Dan fans cheered wildly in adulation as their hero, 
        resplendent in his trademark pink gi, scrambled to sign 
        autographs.  Fan clubs put pictures on the internet, showed 
        video clips, sold t-shirts and hats...
        
        ... on grassy fields and in empty lots, children played 
        Ultra games, staging mock fights with one another.  
        Everybody wanted to be Dan, wanted to play the role.  They 
        rolled on the ground and shook their forearms, and they 
        taunted...
        
        ... they taunted as they fought.  After all, Dan did it on 
        the air, and he'd gone from being a joke fighter to a 
        powerhouse in Omega.  There was obviously something to this 
        Saikyo business.  In the dojos and at the tournaments, they 
        taunted one another across the mat.  On playgrounds, in 
        bars, in classrooms, on the sports fields, they taunted...
        
        ... they used words with sharp edges, to make their 
        opponents angry, for that was the purpose of taunting.  
        They used words that Dan did not, words that were harsh and 
        ugly, words with teeth that bit into the soul.  They 
        taunted...

        ... and the words left wounds.  Those who were hurt by the 
        cruel taunts struck back, lashing out with their own angry 
        words in return.  The pain and anger spread like ripples on 
        the water through their lives, and the taunting grew 
        louder, and louder...

The images on the television screen suddenly froze.  Mary 
swallowed hard, her delight at watching Dan transformed into hurt 
bewilderment.  "This isn't right," she whispered.

"Isn't right?" Sephiroth repeated.  "What do you mean?"

She turned to him, biting her lip.  "Those people have it wrong.  
That's not what Dan is trying to say.  They don't understand..."

"But that is their nature," the Son of Jenova said.  "You look at 
them and want to see goodness.  Yet now you see how they take 
what is good and twist it in their hearts."

She shook her head.  "Not all of them do that," she said firmly.  
"They can learn to do better."

"Yes, they can," Sephiroth agreed.  "But they need a strong hand 
to guide them."

"A strong hand?"

The ex-SOLDIER turned his glowing, mako-charged eyes to the 
television screen again.  "You will understand.  There is so much 
more I wish to show you..."

- - - - -

Hiroshi leaned into his microphone as the commercial break ended 
and Ultra came back on the air.  "And we're back, folks!  It's 
time for our third match of the evening, this is one for the big 
boys!"

"At least one of the 'boys' in question is rather large," Daisuke 
agreed.  

"While the other is just a big headache for anybody who faces 
him!" Hiroshi continued.  "We're talking about the two newest 
additions to the Omega division - Big Fire's very own 'Shockwave' 
Alberto, and the legendary Giant of Light... Ultraman!"  

"This will be the first time these two have met," Daisuke 
informed the crowd, "and Ultraman's first official match in 
Omega."

"From what I hear," Hiroshi confided to the assembled throng, 
"Alberto's been begging for this fight all week!  Are we going to 
find out the reason why tonight?"

"I expect so," his low-key partner predicted.  "Tends to be how 
these things go."

"Only one way to find out!" Hiroshi gestured at the UltraTron 
monitors.  "Let's take you to the Arctic Circle, where Ifurita is 
on hand to referee the action!"

The vista of bleak, windswept ice unfolded on the vast screens of 
the UltraTron.  At this extreme latitude, daylight was measured 
in months instead of hours, and night was a black, bitter ordeal 
which tortured the world for half the year.  The sun hovered in 
the sky above the edge of the horizon, but it seemed small and 
feeble compared to the blazing golden orb to which most people 
were accustomed.  This was a land beyond the reach of summer, 
where the paralyzing cold held eternal dominion like a cruel 
white tyrant.  

Up here, mighty glaciers carved out their own rules of geography.  
The UltraPod camera soared across the frigid sheets of ice, 
hurtling over vast ravines and swooping its way around jagged, 
blue-white mountains of frozen water.  At the terminus of its 
roller-coaster flight, the sturdy camera unit rested its 
electronic gaze on two figures standing at the base of a towering 
sheet of ice.

The cyan and white of Ifurita's complexion seemed to match the 
blighted arctic landscape as she stood with Power Key Staff in 
hand and her striped referee's shirt fluttering in the wind.  
Shockwave Alberto's elegant black suit hardly made a fitting garb 
for this hostile place, but the Omega powerhouse didn't seem to 
care.  He was fueled by internal furnaces which defeated even the 
fiercest breath of the north.

"Ah," Alberto said, noting the approach of the UltraPod camera.  
"The spectacle is about to begin.  My thanks to Yaga for helping 
to arrange this match."

This was a merely a legal formality to which Alberto had agreed.  
According to the loosely-phrased stipulations of the veteran 
wrestler's contract, Yaga had to be "involved" in some way with 
each fight he arranged.  The attorneys had assured Yaga that a 
mere mention of his name was enough to satisfy the requirements 
of the document.

Yaga would have preferred a more glowing endorsement of his 
efforts to book the match, but Alberto's tolerance for this sort 
of thing only stretched so far.

The Omega fighter cast a sidelong glance at Ifurita.  Nabiki 
seemed willing to make good on her promise that the idiotic 
Krillin would not referee another of Alberto's matches.  "I hope 
you prove more competent than your bald-headed colleague," he 
told her. 

"I am," the ancient android asserted matter-of-factly.

The man with the metal eyepatch frowned impatiently.  "Where is 
Ultraman?  He's late."

"I will grant sixty more seconds until disqualification," Ifurita 
judged.  

About fifty-four seconds after the referee's pronouncement, both 
she and Alberto heard a sound rising above the hiss of frigid, 
rushing wind.  The noise bore some similarity to the whine of jet 
turbines, and the thin air shrieked as something massive hurtled 
through the sky at bullet-like speeds.

"Ultraman has arrived," Ifurita observed.

Alberto's single eye gleamed with excitement.  "Excellent."

The silver and red Giant of Light roared into view, dropping out 
of the sky like a living meteor.  Frozen terrain shattered and 
thousands of shimmering crystals of ice cascaded through the air 
as the mighty superhero touched down.  Thousands of miles away, 
the crowd in the Ultradome cheered.

"There will be no outside interference," Ifuirta instructed.  
"Destruction of the world will result in disqualification.  Are 
the fighters prepared?"

][ OMEGA MATCH #1
][ Shockwave Alberto vs. Ultraman
][ FIGHT!

Taken at face value, the fight seemed to be a ludicrous mismatch.  
Ultraman towered over his opponent, casting a vast shadow which 
dwarfed Alberto the Impacter in its dark embrace.  But the 
moustached man with his immaculate, slicked-back hair did not 
seem even remotely intimidated.  

"I've been looking forward to this," he addressed his foe. 

Ultraman simply took up a fighting stance and waited, listening.

"Heh," Alberto laughed.  "Don't talk much, do you?  But that's no 
matter.  YOU, my silver friend, are why I'm in this federation!"

The colossal superhero tilted his head slightly, as if to 
question that statement.

"Oh, not you personally," Alberto clarified.  "But powers such as 
yours are the reason I came to this world.  New enemies, unknown 
challenges.  My organization knows the value of giants, and puts 
them to good use.  Things like that Gundam are interesting, but 
you..." he gestured with his cigar, then smiled.  "You're 
something different."

Ultraman took a thunderous step forward.

"Are you a machine?" Alberto queried.  "Are you an android?  Is 
there an obnoxious child somewhere in your chest, acting as your 
pilot?"  He sniffed.  "It always seems to work that way."

Ultraman did not answer.  Like his heroic predecessor decades 
ago, he was a being of actions, not words.  Right now, the action 
he took was to try to squash Shockwave Alberto beneath one of his 
titanic feet.

The black-clad warrior of the Magnificent Ten went from a dead
standstill to a blinding streak an instant before his adversary's 
foot crashed down, leaving behind only his smoking cigar to 
absorb the blow.  "I'll find out the secret of your power, 
Ultraman!" he snapped as his figure blurred across the frozen 
terrain.  "Even if I have to take you apart to do it!"

Alberto extended his hands and launched a barrage of crimson-and-
black kinetic bolts towards his immense adversary.  The beams of 
force collided hard with Ultraman's silver body, sending the 
great superhero staggering back from the concussions.

The hero from the stars lunged forward, chopping at Alberto with 
immense silver hands, but the man from Big Fire simply danced 
back out of reach.  Alberto skipped like a ebon-hued stone 
across the surface of a lake, impossibly fast, and even with 
Ultraman's vast strides he could not close the distance with his 
diminutive opponent.

Ultraman tracked his blurring foe with glowing golden eyes.  The 
blazingly quick black-clad powerhouse encircled his towering 
enemy, launching blast after merciless blast at Ultraman's body.  

Bracing himself against the fierce kinetic impacts, the Giant 
of Light formed a cross with his forearms.  A blinding streak of 
energy lanced forth from his vertical hand, the famous Specium 
Beam which had laid low so many of his predecessor's deadly 
adversaries.  

The column of energy shredded into the ice, kicking up angry 
plumes of steam and debris, but Alberto dodged out of the path of 
the attack with a towering leap.  Ultraman followed up his 
Specium Beam by forming a glowing discus of energy and hurling it 
at his foe at the apex of his jump, where he would have no chance 
to dodge.

Or so the hero thought. Alberto extended his hands and unleashed 
twin shockwaves from each palm, letting the recoil of his own 
attack carry him like a pair of rocket thrusters.  His sudden 
vector shift took him clean out of the path of the energy disc.  
A moment later, he simply re-directed both the pulsing shockwaves 
directly at Ultraman's chest.

"And Alberto is sticking it to Ultraman!" Hiroshi reported as the 
colossal hero nearly lost his footing from the impact.  "Damn, 
but that guy can really move!"

"It appears that Ultraman was meant to fight other giant 
opponents," Daisuke hypothesized.  "He can't seem to land a hit 
on a small, agile foe like Alberto."

"But those shockwaves are putting a major hurt on the big man!" 
Hiroshi followed up.  "Ultraman had better do something to even 
things out if he's going to have a chance in this fight!"

On the arctic battlefield, Alberto paused to grin at his 
gargantuan foe.  "I'm quite accustomed to dealing with 
mountainous monsters like you," he gloated, "but you are nothing 
but an oversized neophyte!"

Ultraman oriented on his foe, gathered himself, and charged at a 
full run towards Alberto.

"Heh," laughed the Magnificent Ten powerhouse.  "Now I put an end 
to this!"  He clutched both hands together and aimed a finger at 
the charging Ultraman as if he were pointing a gun.  Billowing 
waves of writhing crimson power swirled around his arms, building 
in strength as the great hero rushed towards him.

Ultraman planted his foot and leaped just as Alberto unleashed a 
truly monstrous shockwave directly at the silver hero's head.   
But suddenly, Ultraman simply wasn't there to take the blow.

"What?  Where..." Alberto grunted.

The Giant of Light hadn't actually disappeared, but he had 
suddenly changed his entire mass.  The superhero, now human-
sized, rocketed into the surprised Alberto like a living missile, 
sending him tumbling like a black-suited bowling ball across the 
frigid landscape.

"How about THAT, folks!" Hiroshi cheered.  "Ultraman just cut 
HIMSELF down to size!"

"It's one of the few times in Ultra where less really is more," 
Daisuke noted dryly.

"Looks like Ultraman has the right stuff to take on any foe, no 
matter how big OR small!" cheered the hyper announcer.  

Alberto regained his footing and retaliated with a blistering 
shockwave barrage, but the human-sized Ultraman was not such an 
easy target.  The silver and red warrior somersaulted deftly out 
of the way of the kinetic bolts, then let fly with his own 
Specium Beam.  Alberto threw himself aside from the incoming 
energy wave.

"Better!" the Big Fire operative growled.  "MUCH better!  I think 
it's time to take this battle to close quarters!"  He executed a 
sudden ninety-degree shift at full speed and bolted towards his 
interstellar foe.

Ultraman seemed just as willing to get up close and personal.  He 
met Alberto's charge with a quick-stepping rush of his own, 
gleaming legs churning in a blur.  A circle of force spread out 
like a bomb blast across the shattered ice as the two powerhouses 
slammed together at full speed.

Both warriors tumbled to the frozen terrain from the impact, then 
righted themselves and faced off again.  Ultraman crossed and 
uncrossed his arms in a single fluid motion, calling into being 
twin blades of shimmering blue energy from his sleek hands.  
Alberto snarled in battle-fury and energized his fists with 
pulsing crimson energy.  

The two Omega warriors hurled themselves at one another, moving 
almost faster than the eye could follow.

"What incredible power!" Hiroshi yelped as he tried to track the 
action.  "These two are going at it like demons!"

Daisuke's eyes darted as the two figures streaked back and forth 
across the screen.  "I think Alberto still has an edge in speed, 
but Ultraman's technique is better.  These two are very closely 
matched in a fight like this."

"It's going to come down to stamina!" Hiroshi stated.  "Which one 
of these earth-rending gladiators will outlast the other?"

"If that's the case," Daisuke observed, "then Ultraman may be in 
trouble.  He can only last for so long in the Earth's atmosphere 
before his power runs down."

Hiroshi flinched.  "Ooh, that's right!  Ultraman had better put 
his foe down soon if he wants to win this fight!"

As if on cue, the blue jewel-like beacon on Ultraman's chest 
began to flash in slow red pulses.  The two combatants broke off 
their blistering battle for a moment, and the golden-eyed hero 
flashed a wary look at his chest.  

"Ah!" Alberto grinned savagely, wiping a trickle of blood from 
his lip with his shredded sleeve.  "That warning light again!  I 
think your time is running out, Ultraman!"

The silver warrior took up his battle stance, glaring at his 
adversary with grim determination.  

"I think I'll put you out of your misery!" the Magnificent Ten 
enforcer roared.  With that, he launched himself at his battered 
enemy, glowing like a living reactor.

Ultraman planted his feet and absorbed the fearsome impact of 
Alberto's assault. He reached out with fingers extended, and 
suddenly he GREW, clasping his hand around the surprised 
Alberto's body even as he regained his mammoth stature.  

"He's gotten big again!" Hiroshi trumpeted.  "And he's got 
Alberto right in the palm of his hand!"

The Big Fire powerhouse strained against Ultraman's grasp, but 
even his phenomenal strength could not free him from the Giant of 
Light.  Waves of crimson energy poured off his body as he fought 
with all his power against the silver titan's crushing grip.

The warning light on the great hero's chest gradually picked up 
its tempo.

The extraterrestrial colossus reared back with the hand holding 
Alberto, then drove his arm towards the floor of the frozen 
wasteland with all his superhuman might.  Opening his palm at the 
last second, he slammed the Magnificent Ten warrior into the 
glittering white ground, shattering the glacial ice with a report 
like a thunderclap.  

Ambient energy from the tremendous collision transformed hard-
frozen ice instantly into a geyser of billowing steam.  White 
boulders tumbled in every direction and Ultraman planted his arm 
past the elbow into the blue-white carapace of the arctic.

"And Ultraman just BURIED Alberto, folks!" Hiroshi shrieked.  
"Holy cow, that HAD to hurt!"

Ultraman stepped back away from the steaming crater as his 
warning light continued to flash, a bit unsteady on his pillar-
like legs.  Ifurita hovered over the wreckage, peering through 
the vapor and considering whether or not to begin the ten count.

Suddenly, a streak of hissing steam erupted from the shattered 
ice, jetting forth from the ground towards the surprised 
Ultraman.  A crimson and ebony glow surrounded Shockwave Alberto 
as he hurtled like an arrow towards the Giant of Light.

"NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" he thundered in a voice that echoed off the 
soaring walls of ice.

Ultraman tried to dodge out of the way of Alberto's charge, but 
he didn't quite manage to completely evade his enemy.  With his 
shockwave focused down to laser-like lance, the black-suited 
dynamo raked Ultraman's right arm across the bicep, carving 
through the hero's supple silver armor.

Ultraman clutched his arm as a shower of sparks erupted from the 
cut.  He staggered back, momentarily dazed by the pain.

Alberto landed, looking quite a fright.  His normally impeccable 
hair fell messily across his face, caked with chunks of ice.  His 
expensive designer suit hung in ragged ruins across his battered 
body, but for all that he still seemed far from finished.  
Alberto gasped for air as he faced his opponent, a feral grin 
frozen on his face.

"What does it take to keep this guy down?" Hiroshi wailed.  "I 
can't believe he's still going after the pounding he took!"

"I wonder who put that eye of his out?" Daisuke mused 
tangentially.  "Must've been quite a battle."

"We've got quite a battle here, my friend, and it's not done 
yet!" the excitable commentator observed.  "How is Ultraman going 
to deal with this latest development?"

The silver and red hero didn't have a chance to answer Hiroshi's 
question, because it was Alberto who acted first.  The 
Magnificent Ten veteran extended both hands, fingers splayed.  
"Let's see how much strength you've got left!"

Throbbing energy swirled around Shockwave Alberto's body, and 
suddenly the geyser of sparks flying from Ultraman's wounded arm 
shifted their flight and began to streak towards him.  A twisting 
channel of pure power formed into place between the two great 
warriors, flowing from the wound on the Giant of Light into the 
hands of Alberto the Impacter.

"WHOAH!  He's using that cut he made to siphon off what's left of 
Ultraman's power!" Hiroshi exclaimed.  "We haven't seen Alberto 
do that before, ladies and gentlemen!  This could be really bad 
for the hero..."

Indeed, the red glow of Ultraman's warning light changed suddenly 
from a slow pulse to a frantic, desperate rhythm.  The galactic 
hero stumbled and swooned, nearly tumbling off his feet as the 
energy rushed from his body.  If he'd gone down then, Ultraman 
may truly have never risen again.

But he kept his footing, and did the only thing he could do - 
retreated.  Summoning the last of his power, Ultraman took to the 
air, stretching the vampric column of energy out like a glowing 
rubber band until finally, once the distance became too great, it 
snapped.  

Shockwave Alberto wobbled back on shaky legs, struggling to keep 
his balance.  Absorbing energy like that took a great deal of 
effort, and Ultraman had a tremendous store of power in that 
mammoth body of his.  He wasn't sure if he could continue the 
fight if the giant came back for more.

But Ultraman didn't have that option.  Heeding the urgent call of 
his warning jewel, he simply kept going, rocketing out of the 
caustic embrace of the Earth's atmosphere.

"Ultraman has left the arena, thereby disqualifying himself," 
Ifurita reported, hovering into view.  "I award this match to 
Alberto."

The bruised and battered enforcer of the Magnificent Ten heaved 
in a few gusts of air then pulled himself up straight. He slicked 
his hair back over his head, and even managed to find an intact 
cigar in the ruined remains of his suit.  "That..." he panted, 
"was very... very interesting."

Alberto smiled, looking up to the sky where his enemy had fled, 
and the end of his cigar flared to life.

"A very impressive win for Shockwave Alberto, folks," Hiroshi 
told the jeering Ultra crowd.  "But don't think we've seen the 
last of Ultraman!"

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Daisuke agreed.  "And I'm not sure we've 
seen the last of this rivalry, either."

"But what an incredible match!" Hiroshi enthused gamely, even 
though the fighter he'd been hoping to triumph had ended up 
losing.  "You've gotta give props to both these hard-hitting 
Omega monsters!"

"They do know how to put on quite a show," Daisuke agreed.

"But what do you expect, my man?  It's ULTRA!" Hiroshi beamed.  
"The show's not over yet, folks, so stay tuned!  We'll be back in 
a moment with more heart-pounding action!"

- - - - -

Pantyhose Tarou leaned against one of the support columns in the 
hallway outside the executive offices of the UltraDome, gasping 
for air.  He smacked the concrete with his fist, his frustration 
evident, and swore silently to himself.

"Tarou?" Nabiki's voice echoed off the hard walls.  "Is that 
you?"

The Chinese fighter pulled himself up straight as he heard the 
Tendou girl's footsteps, adjusting his hair and forcing himself 
to breathe normally.  Nabiki rounded the corner, leather-bound 
organizer in hand.  

"There you are," she said.  "Did you... good grief, what happened 
to you?"

"Ma'am?" Tarou asked innocently.

"You're sweating," she noted.  "You look like you've just run a 
marathon."

"Oh," Tarou shrugged, wiping his brow with his sleeve.  "I was 
just... down in the boiler room.  Hotter than hell down there, 
but I thought if anybody wanted to sabotage us, they'd try it 
there."

"I see," Nabiki nodded, accepting this.  "Did you find anything?"

"Er... no," the Chinese fighter said.  If somebody really did 
blow up the boiler tonight, he was going to look like a major 
idiot.  "I didn't see anything.  I want to check around a little 
more, though."

"Well, don't push yourself too hard," the CEO instructed, turning 
her attention back to some detail in her organizer.  "I'll see 
you when you finish."

"Thank you."

Nabiki pivoted away from him, absently patting him on the arm as 
she turned to go.  If she'd been looking at him at the time, she 
would have noticed him wince in pain as she touched his sleeve.  

Tarou watched her go, sighing with relief.  He unconsciously 
reached up and touched his chest, tracing the outline of a 
pendant beneath his shirt with his finger.  

- - - - -

"Welcome back to the show, folks!" Hiroshi blurted into his 
microphone. "It's time for some sizzling tag-team action!"

"First up we have a team which formed last season," Daisuke 
provided, "consisting of two of Ultra's established veterans.  
Though there have been some bumps in the road, the skills of 
these two fighters must always be respected."

Hiroshi picked up where his partner left off.  "Each one has held 
the Gamma belt... can they bring home the Lambda gold together?  
Ladies and gents, a warm welcome for the hot young team of SAKURA 
and SHINGO!!" 

The great stadium shuddered with the force of the cheers as two 
of Ultra's most beloved fighters emerged in a swirling dance of 
spotlights.  Shingo jogged down the ramp, his special morphing 
costume still set in its default school uniform mode, and waved 
at the yammering crowd.  A close look at his eyes might have 
revealed that he seemed just a bit distracted, but the cheering 
fans were too busy showering him with adulation to notice.

Sakura emerged somewhat more hesitantly, but with a great deal 
more sparkle.  This was because of her new costume, a silvery 
bodysuit as shiny as a sheet of aluminum foil which hugged her 
form like a second skin.  A trim of blue-green tubing ran along 
her arms and legs like pinstripe detailing on a hot-rod, 
punctuated by what appeared to be small plastic pockets of some 
sort of fluid.  The overall effect was sort of alien and strange, 
but it definitely showed off her figure in style.

Therefore, the crowd adored it.  So who needed panty shots, 
anyway?

Hiroshi blinked at the shimmering Sakura.  "Well, THAT's a new 
look for her," he noted.  "Wow."

"Another Tomoyo special," Daisuke informed the crowd.

"Quite snug, isn't it?" Hiroshi loosened his collar a bit, trying 
not to stare too blatantly at Sakura's curves.  "I guess Tomoyo's 
taking advantage of having a more... er... mature subject."

"You know," Daisuke said, studying the costume critically, "I 
think there's actually more to it than that.  See those tubes 
running along the outfit?"

"Yeah," his partner said.  "So?"

"I'll bet you that's coolant," Daisuke concluded.  "And that 
shiny fabric is probably very heat resistant."

"Ah, yes!" Hiroshi caught on.  "So little Tomoyo isn't just 
making a fashion statement, she's trying to give Sakura an extra 
edge in the match to come!  Folks, one of Sakura's foes tonight 
has a knack for tossing fireballs around!  No, it's not Iori this 
time..."

"Though she might want to keep that outfit around for next time 
she does fight him," Daisuke mused.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear a rousing welcome for a pair of 
competitors who are teaming up for the first time tonight... 
TASUKI and MOUSSE!"

With every bit as much vigor as they'd cheered Sakura and Shingo, 
the Ultra crowd showered the two Chinese fighters with jeers and 
boos.  Tasuki stomped out under the spotlights, frowning irately 
at the fans, while Mousse emerged with confident, stately grace.  
The flame-haired Suzaku warrior snarled at the taunting throng.

"Aw, SHADDAP, ya jerks!" he spat, shaking his fist at the crowd.

"Don't worry about it," his new partner said quietly as they made 
their way towards the ring.  "This is normal."

"But listen!" Tasuki grumbled, leaning close so he could exchange 
words without being overheard.  "What's the deal with these 
chumps?  They're acting like they hate us!"

"It's because of me, most likely," the long-haired Amazon 
replied.  "I always get this sort of response."

"Oh yeah?  Great," Tasuki groused.  "Nabiki sticks me with a 
partner that everybody hates.  Wonderful."

"Not everybody," Mousse corrected.  He made a slight nod of the 
head, gesturing towards the stand.  "Observe."

Tasuki took a closer look at the crowd, and was surprised to 
discover that upon inspection, there did seem to be several 
pockets of fans who avidly cheered for Mousse's victory.  They 
even sported official Mousse t-shirts, hats, and fluttering banners 
adorned with power-posing ducks.  

"Huh," he said.  "Still, they're pretty outnumbered."

"Of course," Mousse agreed.  "The intelligent ones always 
represent a minority in any crowd."

"Yeah?" Tasuki had to admit that actually did seem to be the way 
things generally worked.

"As for the rest," the Master of Hidden Weapons continued, "let 
them boo.  Let them cheer for a pair of goody two-shoes like 
Sakura and Shingo.  It makes it that much sweeter when we triumph 
and rub it in their faces."

A lopsided, fang-revealing grin appeared on Tasuki's face.  "Heh, 
you got a point there, partner."

"Besides, they paid their money to scream their lungs out," 
Mousse said.  "They deserve to have a good show.  Just watch..."

The pair reached the base of the ring, and suddenly Mousse leaped 
with uncanny grace up to the top of the turnbuckle.  He swiveled 
slowly to scan the howling audience, then abruptly thrust his 
hands out from his copious sleeves.  

Two long weighted chains snaked out from his extended arms, each 
coated with firework gunpowder.  The steel links sparked against 
an edge of flint hidden in each of Mousse's sleeves, igniting the 
powder in a raucous series of snapping explosions.  The audience 
shrieked and gasped as the Master of Hidden Weapons whirled the 
hissing, sparking chains in a dizzying pattern, leaving trailers 
of iridescent color and showering bright embers down across the 
UltraDome.

When the powder finally burned away, he retracted the chains back 
into his robe.  The audience ranted and raved in pure sports 
entertainment fury.  

Tasuki climbed into the ring, nodding his head and raising his 
eyebrow.  "Hey, not bad!" he admitted.  "Let me try somethin' 
like that!"

"Be my guest," Mousse offered, bowing low.

The red-haired warrior ripped his enchanted fan from its holster 
and thrust it in the air.  "REKKA SHINEN!" he belted, uttering 
the command phrase as he slammed the fan down against the mat.

Five circles of fierce red light blazed into existence, 
positioned equidistantly around Tasuki's body.  The glow in each 
circle intensified, building to an almost blinding level, until 
suddenly each point erupted in a towering column of fire.  The 
pillars of flame arced high above the mat, merging together as 
they reached the pinnacle of their trajectory.

At the meeting point of the flames, a five-pointed pinwheel of 
flame roared into being.  The Suzaku warrior swept his fan like a 
conductor's baton, and the fire pinwheel surged, hurtling through 
the air in the UltraDome.  He guided the spinning inferno into a 
chaotic, swooping pattern, bouncing it off the girders and walls 
as the crowd covered their heads and shrieked.

Hiroshi and Daisuke watched this spectacle with wide eyes.  
"Quite a lightshow from the new team," Daisuke observed.

"Didn't know Tasuki had that much control over his flame," 
Hiroshi commented.

"You guys don't know JACK about me!" Tasuki snapped at the 
announcers as the flame pinwheel dissipated into nothingness.  
"But tonight you're about to start findin' out!"

"That was quite good," Mousse whispered to his partner.

"Oh... yeah?  Heh, it was pretty cool, wasn't it?" Tasuki 
congratulated himself.  

The Chinese fighter indicated Shingo and Sakura in the opposite 
corner of the ring.  "It looks as if Sakura is going to start for 
them," he said.  "Allow me to go first."

Tasuki ground his teeth.  "I'm REALLY in the mood to stomp 
someone's butt, man," he hissed.  

"Don't worry," Mousse assured him.  "You'll get your chance.  But 
there's something I want to show you about Sakura."

"Okay, okay," Tasuki agreed.  "You soften 'em up, and I'll finish 
'em off."

"Agreed.  Shall we?"

][ LAMBDA MATCH #1
][ Shingo/Sakura vs. Mousse/Tasuki
][ FIGHT!

Kusagano Sakura, still feeling a bit self-conscious in her new 
outfit but determined not to think about it, squared off against 
her opponent in her Shotokan fighting stance.  She wanted to 
close the distance and get in tight where she knew she had an 
advantage over Mousse, but she had no intention of just charging 
headlong into whatever tricks he had in store for her.  

Mousse eyed her critically and circled, staying close to the 
edges of the ring.  "Heh, it seems this federation is practically 
overrun with Sakuras these days," he snickered.  

"Oh come on," Sakura huffed.  "There are only two of us."

"But which one are you, hmm?" the Chinese fighter teased.

"The one that's in the ring with you now, stupid," she shot back.

"There must be some way to differentiate them," Mousse pondered.  
"I know!  We could call the other 'new' Sakura, while you could 
be 'washed-up, worn-out, yesterday's news' Sakura!"

The self-taught Shokotan fighter glared angrily.  "Get real, you 
big..."

He verbally barreled over her.  "Or she could be 'cute' Sakura, 
while you could be 'beady-eyed, slack-jawed, potato-faced' 
Sakura!"

"Why you..."

Mousse raised a finger.  "I know!  She could be 'sweet' Sakura, 
while we could call you 'slut-faced, panty-flashing, backstabbing 
gutter-tramp' Sakura!  How about that?  That would certainly 
clear up a lot of confusion!"  

"That's ENOUGH!  HADOU-KEN!" The enraged young fighter threw out 
her arms and launched her ki-blast at the Chinese fighter.

This was exactly as Mousse had expected.  At long range, he had
a hundred options, but Sakura only had one. He hurled his body 
aside, ducking out of the way of the glowing projectile.  In the 
same motion, he extended his arm and sent a large iron-headed 
mallet hurtling towards Sakura's legs.

The Shokotan martial artist tried to dodge, but she'd had to 
plant her legs and brace herself in order to execute her ki-
blast.  She couldn't break her stance in time, and the heavy maul 
thudded with a meaty smack into her knee.  Sakura clutched her 
right leg and collapsed, gasping in pain.

"You see?" Mousse addressed Tasuki.  "Some fighters get more 
dangerous when they become enraged, but not Sakura.  She simply 
gets stupid."

The silver-clad schoolgirl rose to her feet, gingerly favoring 
her wounded leg.  That was going to raise a really interesting 
bruise in the next few days, she thought irritably.  "I'm not 
done yet, Mousse," she growled, eyes full of rage.   "COME ON!"

"With pleasure!" the Master of Hidden Weapons replied with gusto.  
A pair of flexible bamboo fighting staves appeared in each hand, 
and he hurled himself towards her.

She caught him with a counter kick as he closed the gap between 
them, but she couldn't put much weight on her injured leg and 
lost most of her power.  Mousse thrashed the air with his staves 
while Sakura ducked and dodged away, knowing that blocking the 
weapons would hurt almost as bad as taking a clean hit.  She 
searched desperately for an opening and retreated under the 
assault.

"Sakura's not moving real well on that hurt leg," Hiroshi 
announced.  "And Mousse has the reach advantage!  He's 
controlling the tempo of this fight!"

"Right now, he's too mobile for her to play a pressure game," 
Daisuke agreed.  "Sakura's at a severe disadvantage."

Mousse's staff cracked across her back, and Sakura recoiled in 
pain.  She took another shot across the belly, and her counter 
punch only caught him with a glancing blow.  Biting back the 
agony in her leg, she regained her balance and launched herself 
into a powerful flying uppercut, the "Rising Cherry Tree Fist," 
with a cry of "SHOUOUKEN!!"

The Chinese fighter took a good shot to the center of his chest, 
but it wasn't enough to put him down.  As Sakura landed from her 
Shououken, he lashed out low, driving a bamboo staff into her 
injured leg.

A scream of pain burst forth from Sakura's lungs as the blow 
struck home.  She staggered back, bursts of light flashing in her 
vision from the shock.

'Didn't want to do this,' she thought, but she knew she was in 
trouble.  She extended a hand towards the advancing Mousse, then 
squeezed a hidden trigger in her glove.

The plastic tubes built into the fabric of her suit did indeed 
carry a kind of coolant, as Daisuke had speculated, designed to 
safeguard her against damage from fire.  However, the coolant 
consisted primarily of water, and had also been designed to serve 
another purpose.  A jet of cold fluid gushed forth from the 
tubing on her wrist, spraying towards her Jusenkyou-cursed 
adversary.

Mousse whipped out a bamboo umbrella and deflected the stream.  
He hadn't lived with his curse for so long without developing 
some reflexes to deal with it.  

"Ha!" he barked.  "As I suspected!  A cheap little trick from a 
cheap little fighter!  Did you truly expect to catch me 
unawares?"

'Rats,' the Shokotan girl thought.  'Well, this is what tag teams 
for.' If she could just give her leg a chance to rest, she knew 
she'd be okay to fight again. She turned and lunged for her 
corner.

"Not so fast!"  Mousse let loose with the umbrella, hurling it at 
Sakura's legs.  The weapon flew between the schoolgirl's knees 
and tangled her up, sending her crashing face-first into the 
canvas.

The white-robed Amazon leaped high, executed an acrobatic aerial 
flip, and landed between Sakura and her corner.  He swept his arm 
in a wide arc, lashing out with a thick weighted chain that 
cracked the struggling young fighter in the jaw.  As Sakura 
bounced off the ropes and crumpled to the mat, Mousse twirled his 
weapon slowly, preparing for the finishing strike.

"Perhaps we'll just say that she is 'healthy' Sakura," he crowed 
with malicious relish, "and you can be 'bruised, battered, and 
beaten-to-a-quivering-pulp' Sakura!"

"Stupid Mousse!" came a familiar voice from behind.  "Quit being 
so stupid!"

Mousse's eyes widened, and he whirled in surprise.  "My darling 
Shampoo!  Is that..."

Shingo's version of the Amazon princess who Mousse adored would 
not have fooled anyone for more than a second, but a second was 
all he needed.  Mousse blinked in shock, dropping his guard for a 
dangerous moment.

In truth, Shampoo did not have a great arsenal of signature moves 
to use in the ring, which was one of the reasons she'd never made 
much of a splash in Ultra.  However, she did have one particular 
technique called Bash Stupid Mousse down to a fine art.  For some 
reason it only worked against one specific fighter, but since 
that fighter happened to be standing right in front of Shingo at 
the time, it turned out to be an excellent choice.

Mousse's body sailed in an inelegant splay across the ring, 
tumbling to the center of the canvas.  Shingo probably could have 
finished him off, except for the fact that he hadn't actually 
made the tag.  He reached out for Sakura as the dazed, benumbed 
schoolgirl crept slowly to the corner.

This gave Mousse enough time to recover himself and tag out as 
well.  The black-robed Tasuki stalked into the ring, an angry 
gleam in his eye.  

"Hey, jerkface!" he spat at Shingo.

Shingo did a pirouette and changed out of his Shampoo costume, 
rather to everyone's relief.  He advanced forward to fight, but 
seemed a bit taken aback by the blatant hostility in Tasuki's 
countenance.  

"What?" he asked.

"That was a pretty crappy thing to do," the flame-haired warrior 
snarled in his harsh, raspy voice.  "Dressin' up like the man's 
girlfriend to land a sucker punch like that!"

"He was about to..."

"How the hell would you feel, punk?" Tasuki cut him off.  "What 
if somebody came up dressed like that chick of yours and kicked 
you in the nuts, huh?"

"Hey, I didn't mean to..." he began, and then he made a serious 
error in judgment.  He looked back over his shoulder at Sakura, 
struggling with a number of conflicting feelings inside.

A fist like a bundle of steel cables cracked him hard against the 
jaw.  "Quit gawking around, you little dumbass!" Tasuki barked.  
"Just get up and fight!"

Shingo scrambled off the mat, head spinning from the force of the 
blow.  'That was stupid,' he chided himself angrily.  'This guy's 
really dangerous!  Just pay attention!'

Tasuki hauled off and kicked him hard in the chest, then lashed 
out with a fierce punching combo.  Shingo dodged away, barely 
managing to avoid getting his face pounded in.  

"I'm not playin' around in this league any more!" Tasuki vowed.  
"Me and my partner are goin' for the belt, and a couple of little 
snots like you ain't getting' in my way!"

Shingo leaped back to get a little distance, feeling it was time 
to go with his biggest guns.  "Shingo Power Henshin... form of 
SAOTOME!"  

"Cute," Tasuki sniffed as Shingo's outfit transmuted into the 
Ranma's traditional Chinese fighting costume and his hair twirled 
itself into a braided pig-tail.  "Are you tryin' to tell me you 
actually fight better when you play dress-up?"

"KACHUU TENSHIN-AMAGURIKEN!" Shingo cried in response, launching 
himself at Tasuki in a blur of fists.  

In fact, Shingo DID fight better when he mimicked another martial 
artist.  Though his innate copycat ability didn't truly make him 
a direct match for the person he imitated, he did definitely adapted
to new styles like nobody else in Ultra.  Shingo's version of 
Ranma's fast-punching Chestnut Fist attack didn't achieve quite 
the mind-numbing velocity of the original, but it certainly gave 
Tasuki a nasty surprise.

The Suzaku warrior covered up under the rain of blows, caught 
off-guard by the sudden ferocity of the attack.  Shingo did an 
especially good imitation of Ranma, having actually trained with 
the Nerima martial artist.  

The quick-change master pressed his attack, not giving Tasuki 
time to recover from the defensive.  He planted a pair of 
snapping kicks against the flame-haired fighter's skull, then 
followed up with a blinding combination to the abdomen.

Tasuki reeled back towards the ropes.  Shingo drew back his fist 
and lined up a haymaker towards his adversary's jaw...

... and his knuckle smacked into a the surface of a fan as hard 
as diamond.  

"Yowch!" Shingo cried, clutching his fist and hopping away.  
Tasuki twirled his enchanted fan and stalked forward.  

"Takes more than knock-off martial arts to put me down," the 
ancient Chinese fighter hissed, then drew back his fan.  "REKKA 
SHINEN!" he commanded.

Shingo expected to have to dodge a sheet of flame from the 
magical weapon, and was caught by surprise when the fireburst 
simply erupted under his feet.  He yelped in pain and tumbled 
back, his legs smoldering slightly.  

Tasuki advanced, fangs bared in a wicked grin.  "What's the 
matter, huh?  Can't stand the heat?  Why don't you turn into a 
version of your little girlfriend and her fireproof suit?"

"She's not my girlf..." Shingo began reflexively, acting on 
months worth of conditioning, but then he broke off.  "She's 
my... we're just..."

Tasuki grabbed him by the collar in an iron grip, then jerked him 
forward, smashing their heads together.  "LIKE..." he headbutted 
again, "...I," and again, "... CARE!" and again.

Whatever else could be said about the relative strengths of 
Tasuki and Shingo, nobody could question which one of them had 
the harder skull.  The quick-change martial artist's eyes rolled 
up in his head and his limbs went limp.  After one final headbutt 
for good measure, Tasuki hurled him to the mat.  The boy landed 
like a wet rag.  

"It looks like this one is pretty much over," Hiroshi announced 
to the crowd as the referee administered the ten-count over 
Shingo's limp form.  "The new team proves to be too much for 
Sakura and Shingo to handle today.  They seem really determined 
to win!"

"We haven't seen this much fire out of Tasuki since he showed up 
in Ultra," Daisuke noted.  "No pun intended."

Mousse and Tasuki let the ref raise their hands for the victory 
in the ring, while the crowd rained down a torrent of boos.  The 
concussed Shingo wobbled to his corner, where Sakura helped him 
regain his balance.

"I... I'm sorry..." he mumbled.  

"It's okay," Sakura reassured him.  "You win some, you lose 
some."

Mousse turned his attention to the defeated pair and laughed 
smugly.  "Or in the case of you two," he taunted, "you lose 
everything except the matches where you cheat."

"Shut up!" Sakura shot back.  "That's not true!"

"Isn't it?" Mousse prompted.  "Think about it."

"We've..." Sakura began, but then she closed her mouth, blinking.  
As much as she hated to admit it, Mousse was actually right.  She 
and Shingo hadn't won a straight fight yet.

"Maybe you two just don't make a very good team," Tasuki told the 
stunned teenagers.

"I think you may be right, my comrade," Mousse agreed with him.  
"They're simply not very good for each other, are they?"

Shingo leaned against the ropes, wheezing for air.  The world 
spun around his head, but not simply because of the punishment 
he'd taken.  Sakura squeezed his hand reassuringly, but the 
sensation felt far, far away, and his heart seemed like a knot of 
lead in his chest.

All in all, it had been a pretty tough night for Yabuki Shingo.

- - - - -

This was not what Mary had expected.

She'd been prepared for Sephiroth to try to deceive her, trick 
her, threaten her, and perhaps even attack her.  She knew she 
could withstand whatever he threw at her, and still answer with a 
smile and open arms.  She'd hoped to speak to him, hoped to make 
him feel loved, hoped he would finally begin to understand.

But he had come to her armed only with the truth, and she had 
begun to realize that it was she who did not understand.  

She'd thought she knew so much.  She'd thought the answers were 
so simple, if only people would open their hearts.  She'd thought 
she knew how to make things right.  But Sephiroth took her 
cherished beliefs and held them up to the light, dissecting them 
with his uncompromising words and the images on the television.  
Mary could not find the right things to say.  

"Love."  Sephiroth breathed the word like a sigh.  "The noblest 
of human emotions, would you say?"

"Yes," Mary answered, but her voice sounded wary and thin.

"But how twisted it can become," the One-Winged Angel pressed, 
his voice almost gentle.  "How much pain it can cause.  Let us 
examine the love of country..."

He gestured at the television, and Mary extended her will.  By 
now, she could feel what he wanted to show her, and the screen 
answered her bidding before she consciously knew what she would 
be seeing.  Part of her wanted to stop looking at these terrible 
images, but her curiosity proved the stronger force.  The screen 
flickered...

        ... the banners rippled in the wind, and thousands of 
        voices sang out in unison, swelling with pride.  A 
        generation of young men took guns in their hands, their 
        futures running red with flowing blood as they fought to 
        take control of the land they'd been told was theirs, a land 
        they had never even seen... 

"That isn't really love..."

"Isn't it?" Sephiroth questioned.  "Do you see into their hearts 
and find them to be untrue?"

No, she didn't.  The love they felt WAS real, and that was the 
horror of it.  She shook her head, words failing her.

"Love of God, perhaps?" the Son of Jenova prompted.

        ... they knew the commandments, knew the holy words, and 
        yet the blasphemers still dared to live in sin.  The 
        righteous men lit the fires beneath their feet, and the 
        good people looked on as the heretics burned, singing 
        praises to the Lord as the hungry fires blackened human 
        flesh... 

"Or something more personal, more intimate," the ex-SOLDIER 
suggested.  "The love of a parent for a child ..."

        ... the president of Shin-ra smoothed his son's blonde hair 
        back and smiled as they looked out together over the steel 
        grey expanse of Midgar.  He would leave his son everything, 
        thought the old man, he would build an empire for the boy 
        to inherit.  The Mako reactors sucked the very life from 
        the ground, and the people in the city toiled to build 
        even more...

"The beauty of romantic love?" Sephiroth continued, and the 
television responded...

        ... they agreed that her husband would have to die.  It was 
        the only way - the marriage had been arranged, after all, 
        and this was true love.  He would never let her go, but she 
        couldn't live this way anymore.  The husband would have to 
        die...

"STOP!" Mary wailed, and the screen suddenly went black.  She 
turned her back and collapsed to her knees.

"But there is so much more," Sephiroth told her in his silky 
voice.  "We have but scratched the surface."

"I don't want to see any more," Mary sobbed.

"You must," Sephiroth insisted, kneeling beside her.  "This is 
the reality which you must face.  If not, then you will be the 
one responsible for all the pain."

"Me?" Mary asked in a choked voice.  

"Yes, you," the One-Winged Angel affirmed.  "It is your destiny 
to lead them out of the darkness.  That is your purpose as the
messiah.  If you turn away and do nothing, then their suffering will 
fall on your shoulders."

"But... I don't know what to do..."

"Establish the true law."  Sephiroth curled a fist.  "A new world 
must be forged, and a forge needs a fire.  Burn away all that is 
evil, simplify all that has become too tangled, and raise a 
golden city in which the righteous can dwell.  That is the dream 
of the Promised Land, Mary."

The girl swallowed hard.  Something didn't sound right about 
that, but she felt confused and lonely, she didn't know what to 
say anymore.

The Son of Jenova continued.  "You know how to be kind already.  
Now you must learn to be strong.  You must wrest command of these 
misguided, suffering people and bring them into the light.  They 
do not have the wisdom to lead themselves.  It is your destiny to
reign."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Mary asked, eyes damp with 
tears.

"Because you cannot do this alone," Sephiroth answered.  "Even 
you, the living messiah, will need lieutenants to serve you.  I
would stand at your right hand, Mary."

"Why you?"

"Because I will never lie to you," the One-Winged Angel vowed.
"I will never hide the truth.  And I will do what needs to be
done.  Enforce your law, serve as your sword.  I shall be your
emissary to the mortal world, and counsel you in the torturous 
path you are doomed to walk."

"If I gave you that kind of power, you would hurt people," she 
said with a sniffle.

"It must be done," Sephiroth asserted.  "The stray branches must 
be pruned, and the weeds destroyed."

"I don't want to hurt anybody," Mary whispered.

"But you have agreed already that punishment can be just," 
Sephiroth reminded her.  "Just as your mother punishes you for 
breaking the rules, so too you must punish those who violate your 
laws."

"Then how am I any different?" the young messiah pleaded.  "How 
am I any better than all those other people?"

"Because of what you are," Sephiroth told her.  "Because the 
Living Godhead is justice, the font of all truth.  They must learn 
to follow your will and bow to your wisdom."

"They have to be free to choose," Mary countered.

He gestured back at the television.  "But see what they choose to 
do when they have freedom?"

Mary turned slowly, unwillingly, to face the screen...

        ... the fires blazed high, writhing in the wind and roaring 
        as they threw book after book into the maw of the inferno...
        
        ... the commandant counted the bodies, each and every one 
        a life which had been callously snuffed by clouds of 
        poisonous gas, and all he cared about was how most 
        efficiently to dispose of them...
        
        ... machine guns rattled in the snow-blanketed Siberian 
        woods, and the bodies tumbled back into the pits that they 
        had been forced to dig for themselves... 
        
        ... the old woman looked back over her shoulder the last
        of her people who would ever see this land they had always
        called home.  The treaty had been a lie, the words had been
        a flimsier shield than the scrap of paper upon which they
        had been written...
        
        ... the muscular man waited in the bottom of the deep pit, 
        hunched in the darkness, and he dreamed only of his 
        revenge...
        
        ... suffering spread out across the world, passing from one 
        host to the next like a horribly virulent disease.  One 
        person endured torment, and in response they inflicted pain 
        upon others, and the cycle continued and continued, never-
        ending.  The pain spread out like some unending spider web, 
        with    billions of souls writhing helplessly in its grasp, 
        unable to comprehend that they were the ones spinning the web 
        around them...

"NO!" Mary sobbed, turning away and burying her face in her 
hands. 

"The punishment must fit the crime," Sephiroth told her softly.  
"You see how hideous their crimes can be.  If you do not wish to
punish them, then let me take that burden for you.  I shall do 
what must be done." 

"There must be another way," she said, her voice so quiet that he 
could barely hear it.

"Then show me, Mary," Sephiroth said.  "You are divinity incarnate.
Show me that you know better than I.  Show me that you know how to 
put all this to right."

"I don't know how," she admitted, wiping her eyes.

Sephiroth leaned close, his blue eyes shimmering.  "You still 
love them all, do you not?"

"Yes."

"But they make you so sad," he observed.  "They make you very, 
very sad."

She just nodded and wiped her nose.

"And they make you angry, do they not?"

Something unfamiliar appeared in Mary's face, something which had 
never been there before.  Her eyebrows knit, and her jaw 
trembled.  "Yes," she answered.  "They do."

- - - - -

Far away, in the UltraDome, the show went on.

Hiroshi hailed the Ultra crowd as the show came back on the air.  
"We're almost ready for our last match of the evening, ladies and 
gentlemen!" he informed the sweat-drenched throng.  "But first, 
we've just gotten word from Washuu at the Ultra Gate Relay that 
Nuku-Nuku is about to come back!"

"In one piece, we hope," Daisuke muttered grimly.

"So without further ado, let's go live to that weird something-
or-another hyperspace thingy!" Hiroshi turned to the UltraTron 
monitors as the great screens blinked to life.  "Washuu, tell us 
the good news!"

The number-one genius scientist in the universe turned away from 
her work at the main console of the Ultra Gate Relay for a moment 
to acknowledge the camera.  A pulsing blue portal crackled behind 
her, swirling and shimmering.  "Hiya, guys!" she chimed.  "I've 
just about got a fix on the cat-girl, but first I want to let 
everybody know that she is alive and well!"

"How do you know that?" asked Daisuke.

In response, Washuu swiveled a floating two-dimensional display 
towards the camera.  "See these?" she indicated a group of 
flickering charts.  "These represent the bio-signs and system 
reports for all the former Cybergrrlz.  And as you can see, Nuku-
Nuku's vital statistics show she's just fine."

"So you're going to be bringing her back soon?" Hiroshi inquired.  

"I'll have my lock-on in just another minute or so," Washuu 
assured them.  "All I need to do is make a few final adjustments, 
and Nuku-Nuku will come back to us safe and sound.  I'll be 
bringing her back through the gateway behind me..."

"Not if I can help it!" boomed an unexpected, familiar voice from 
off screen, which was followed by a burst of insane laughter.  
The ashen ground began to rumble once more.

"Could that be...?" Hiroshi yelped.

"Oh, brother," Daisuke moaned.  "I have a bad feeling.  That's 
just gotta be..."

"B-KO!" Washuu, grabbing onto the console for support as the 
earth heaved beneath her feet.  "What the hell?"

The UltraPod camera dipped in a sickening motion, then re-
oriented on a spot a few dozen meters away from the Gate Relay.  
A twisting spike of spinning metal thrust its way up through the 
barren surface, kicking up a storm of debris as it erupted into 
view.  As the crowd watched in amazement, an immense drilling 
machine the size of the space shuttle breached the dusty 
asteroid's crust, finally coming to rest after its ascent - a 
towering monolith of hardened ceramics, plastic, and steel.

B-ko's unmistakable voice blared forth from the great drill's 
loudspeakers.  "I've gone to a lot of trouble to try and rid 
myself of that insufferable cat-girl once and for all!" she 
announced haughtily.  "I will not have my plans ruined!"

"You... you WHAT?" Washuu couldn't believe her ears.  "You're 
telling me you're STILL holding a grudge against Nuku-Nuku?  Give 
it up, girl - she isn't even a registered fighter anymore!"

"What does true hate care for registrations and technicalities?" 
B-ko shot back, then belted out another round of laughter.  
"Revenge will be sweet, sweet, SWEET!"

"You're off your nut, you know that?" Washuu shouted angrily.  
"I've always thought you were crazy, but THIS..."

"You cannot stop me, for all your overrated intellect!" the 
Daitokuji heir taunted.  "BEHOLD!  The last and greatest of my 
Announcer Series Tactical Mecha..."

The belly of the great drilling machine split open in a cloud of 
billowing steam, two great doors spreading like the jaws of some 
dark beast.  From within the shadows, two eyes glowed a pulsing, 
angry red.  The crowd held its breath and leaned forward, eyes 
riveted on the UltraTron...

"The Robo-Pantyhose 2190c!" B-ko crowed.

Somewhere in the UltraDome, a very strong and very angry young 
man crushed his coffee mug into a mangled wreck.

The mighty armorsuit which strode forth indeed bore a striking 
resemblance to a giant version of Pantyhose Tarou, though certain 
key differences (apart from the size) caught the eye.  For one 
thing, the real Tarou tended not to go about with his mouth 
hanging slack as if he were trying to catch flies, nor did he 
typically cross his eyes like that.  Also, to everyone's best 
recollection, nobody had ever seen Tarou wear a headband 
featuring the bright red character for "baka" on his forehead.  
Apart from that, it was a rather good likeness.

Washuu smacked her forehead.  "Oh, I really don't need this right 
now."

"I will not let that cat-girl return!" B-ko vowed.  "Static Shock 
Ray!"

The Robo-Pantyhose 2190c extended a hand and let loose a blinding 
arc of electricity.  The blast slammed into the main computer 
banks of the Ultra Gate Relay, sending up a hissing shower of 
sparks and ozone.

"B-KO!" Washuu screamed.  "WHAT are you DOING?!"

B-ko just threw her head (and her mecha's head) back in raucous 
laughter.

Washuu lunged at the main control console.  Red warning symbols 
and desperate klaxons blared from the panel.  System errors 
cascaded alarmingly across the screen.

This was NOT good.  If she didn't stop the chain reaction soon, 
the system would go into a feedback loop which could cause a very 
large quantum collapse.  She couldn't predict where the disaster 
would occur, but if the gate went off near some inhabited 
planet...

She couldn't handle this alone.  The Gate Relay would require all 
her attention if she were to stop the collapse, and she didn't 
have time to deal with that damned B-ko and her powered armor.  
Desperately, before the existing gate she'd wanted to use for 
Nuku-Nuku dissipated, Washuu stabbed for the controls...

Another blast ripped into the ground nearby.  Washuu ducked for 
cover and activated the gate. 

The glowing blue portal surged, crackled, and then spat out a 
very surprised individual before it collapsed entirely.

"Take care of B-ko!" Washuu commanded to the newcomer.  

"Oh, sure," came a voice which Washuu hadn't precisely expected 
to hear.  "Whatever you say."

The super-scientist turned to face her estranged friend and 
former teammate, Gally.  'Damn,' she thought.  She'd been trying 
to call Ifurita, but must have gotten the wrong Cybergrrl.  But 
she wouldn't be able to activate that portal again until she 
fixed the system damage to the Gate Relay.  Gally would have to 
do.

"Yeah," Washuu affirmed.  She didn't want to hurt Gally's 
feelings by telling her she'd been trying to call someone else.  
"You can take care of her, right?"

"Sure, sure," the Battle Angel asserted.  She'd been watching the 
live feed of the situation back in the UltraDome, so this 
development wasn't quite as disorienting as it might've been.  
"Take care of B-ko? No problem."

Gally's expression did not convey a great deal of warmth.  Washuu 
cleared her throat.  "So, uh..."

"That's the way it is?" the cyborg pressed.  "I'm good enough to 
come save your bacon, but not good enough to hang around your 
daughter?  That's the story?"

The Robo-Pantyhose 2190c stomped forward, the ground shuddering 
beneath its metallic feet.

Washuu ground her teeth.  "We don't have TIME for this!  Could 
you please just clobber that nutcase over there, and we..."

"Don't worry," the Hunter-Warrior told her calmly.  "I've already 
taken care of it."

Bright orange explosions suddenly ripped into the legs of B-ko's 
latest mech as a host of tiny, almost invisible arachno-bots 
detonated on the armorsuit's hull.  With a shriek of surprise, 
the Daitokuji girl toppled backward in her mechanical monster.  
The suit's legs sparked and belched black smoke from a score of 
craters in their armor.

Gally nodded and raised her eyebrows smugly.  "See?"

"Uh... yeah, okay."  Washuu grinned wanly, then doubled over her 
console and began tapping away.  "Just make sure she's..."

"How DARE you?!" B-ko scoffed over her speakers.  "Just for that, 
I shall have to show you the true power of the Robo-Pantyhose 
2190c... JUSENKYOU TRANSFORM!"

The cyborg watched in amazement as the great battered mecha 
shifted and came apart, separating into a swarm of sophisticated 
components.  Behind B-ko, the drilling apparatus she'd been using 
also broke into a clattering host of gleaming, writhing modules.

The two groups of machinery flew together, combining and 
reconfiguring, until the whole mess reared up to a height well 
over twice the size of the original mech.  Gleaming tentacles 
writhed on its back, jet-thruster wings protruded from its 
shoulders, impact-enhancing titanium hooves pulverized the ground 
with each step.  The Robo-Pantyhose 2190c, Jusenkyou Curse Mode, 
threw back its bull-like head and roared like an angry god.

"Hell," Gally muttered.  She popped open her Damascus blade 
butterfly knife and took up a Panzer Kunst fighting stance. 
"Should have known it wouldn't be THAT easy."

Back in the UltraDome, Hiroshi leaned into his microphone.  
"Looks like we've got an unscheduled Omega brawl breaking out 
here, folks!  There's nobody on hand to referee the match, and I 
don't think these guys are going to wait for the bell..."

][ OMEGA MATCH #2 (UNSCHEDULED)
][ Gally vs. B-ko (piloting Robo-Pantyhose 2190c)
][ FIGHT!

The Daitokuji heir cackled through her speakers.  "A glorious 
day!  I get to dispose of not one, but TWO of my old rivals!"

"Rivals?" Daisuke asked.  "She means Gally?"

"It's true," Hiroshi acknowledged.  "B-ko and Gally used to have 
a pretty hot rivalry going in Ultra several seasons back, though 
there hasn't been much action on that front for a while!"

"That girl doesn't forget a grudge," Daisuke commented, shaking 
his head in wonder.  "I still can't believe she went to all this 
trouble just because of Nuku-Nuku."

"B-ko is a genuine mental case, folks!" Hiroshi told the crowd.  
"Combined with her technical genius, that makes her one of 
Omega's most dangerous and unpredictable foes!  Gally's going to 
have her hands full with THIS one!"

The Battle Angel scanned the bleak landscape with a quick glance.  
'Not going to be a lot of effect from the environment in this 
one,' she thought.  'Just comes down to skill.'  She flexed the 
joints in her fingers and smiled.  'Perfect.'

The Robo-Pantyhose 2190c thundered forward, and Gally took off 
like a bullet.

'First thing to do is lead her away from the Gate Relay,' the 
cyborg thought.  She described a wide arc around the massive 
mech, drawing B-ko's attention out to the barren wastes.  

The lavender-haired girl seemed perfectly willing to focus on 
Gally for the moment.  She followed her speeding adversary on 
earthshaking feet, covering immense chunks of distance with her 
mammoth strides.

The cyborg studied her foe.  'That ugly thing is pretty top-heavy 
with all those tentacles on its back,' she observed.  'If I can 
knock it over, then WHOAH!'

The cybernetic reflexes of Omega's fastest competitor barely 
saved her.  A pair of electric arcs spat forth from the bull 
horns of the great mecha, raking the ground which the Battle 
Angel had just occupied.  

Gally swore silently - just because B-ko had made her mech to 
look like the cursed form of Pantyhose Tarou didn't mean she felt 
obligated to limit the weapons she built into the thing.  

'Take out the legs,' the cyborg thought grimly.  "Let's GO!"

The heroine of the Scrapyard banked hard, blurring past another 
volley of electric bolts, and streaked towards her enemy.  Her 
internal computers locked onto the ankle joint of the mecha's 
great bovine leg, and she tore towards her target.

Eight metallic tentacles oriented on her, and opened fire with 
streams of acid.

"CRAP!" she cried, breaking off her charge.  "Missile Bees!"

The swarm of explosive insects homed in on the ankle joint as 
Gally raced by the great mech, dodging the corrosive jets which 
ate away at the dusty ground.  The Missile Bees impacted on the 
mech's armor, kicking off a rapid series of fiery explosions.

Deep black scores marked the spots where the Missile Bees 
detonated, but none had penetrated to the inner mechanics of the 
Robo-Pantyhose 2190c.

'Thick armor,' Gally thought.  'REALLY thick.  I'll have to...'

With all her attention occupied in dodging the thrashing, 
spitting tentacles, the cyborg didn't manage to notice the 
monster's tail.  The gleaming, segmented eel-tail unexpectedly 
stretched out and rammed into the Hunter-Warrior's speeding form.  
It didn't quite catch her in its gaping jaws, but the impact sent 
Gally tumbling crazily through the air.

B-ko filled the air with her triumphant laughter.  "You cannot 
beat me!" she vaunted.  "You're just a primitive clockwork doll 
compared to my magnificent creation!"

Gally rolled to her feet, gaining control of her momentum after 
taking a beating against the asteroid's unforgiving surface.  A 
savage grin seared its way across her features.  "You DO make 
this challenging!" she rasped.  "But it's not about the machine!  
It's about the warrior within!"

"Either way, I am your superior!" the Daitokuji mistress crowed.

"Prove it!" Gally challenged, sheathing her Damascus blade.  
Against armor that thick, it wouldn't do her much good.  Her 
Panzer Kunst style was all she really needed.

"I shall!" B-ko vowed.  The tentacles writhed again, and this 
time spat forth billowing gouts of flame at the Hunter-Warrior.

"Too slow!" the cyborg cried, weaving her way between the 
scorching jets.  She advanced again, kicking up waves of dust 
behind her in the wake of her passage.

Gally ducked under a pulverizing fist, tore between the 
thundering feet of the great mecha, then launched herself at the 
thing's back.  With blurring hands, she struck the base of two of 
the tentacles, sending powerful shockwaves through the gleaming 
armor and shredding the delicate circuitry and hydraulics 
beneath.  The attachments which held the supple appendages in 
place detonated in unison, and two tentacles dropped off the 
immense armorsuit's back.  

The Hunter-Warrior kicked off at the base of the Robo-Pantyhose 
2190c's neck, striking so hard that the top-heavy monster almost 
lost its balance.  The cyborg girl somersaulted through the air, 
rolling to absorb the impact of her landing before she took off 
again...

... or she tried to, anyway.  The jettisoned tentacles reared up 
like immense metal snakes on either side of her, spitting deadly 
acid.  

She caught a glancing hit from one of the jets and gasped in pain 
as her nerve-sensors reported the damage.  On instinct, she threw 
herself forward, rolling out range of the two glistening, deadly 
tentacles.

"Holy shla-MOLY!  That B-ko sure makes a mean mecha!" Hiroshi 
shouted back in the UltraDome.  

"Gally's arm looks pretty messed up," Daisuke noted as the 
Scrapyard cyborg raced away from the severed tentacles.  "And 
that armor of B-ko's just keeps coming.  This looks pretty 
bad..."

"Don't count Gally out yet!" they hyper announcer insisted.  "She 
may be out-gunned, but the Battle Angel doesn't know the meaning 
of the word 'surrender!'"

"I'm sure she does," Daisuke corrected.  "She simply doesn't 
apply it to herself."

"You live in a very literal world, my friend," Hiroshi groused.

Daisuke shrugged.  "Sorry."

In the hyper-space pocket of the Ultra Gate Relay, Gally grit her 
teeth against the pain in her arm and dodged another round of 
electric blasts.  'Think!' she commanded to herself.  'That 
damned monster has to have a weakness...'

The tentacles still functioned when she'd blown them off the main 
body, she realized.  That meant they had to have their own 
internal computers running them independently.  It only made 
sense - B-ko didn't have enough hands to control all those 
different appendages, so she had to create extra systems to do 
the work for her.  

That was B-ko's weakness, Gally thought.  She could cobble 
together an incredibly sophisticated powered armorsuit in a 
single evening, but she never settled on just one design.  She 
never had time to really master any one of her creations before 
she moved on to the next one.

The Hunter-Warrior had a plan.

'This will give me one clean shot if it works,' she thought.  'I 
have to make it count!'  She issued a mental command to her 
internal computers.  The built-in data systems of her synthetic 
body played back the recordings of the Robo-Pantyhose 2190c's 
Jusenkyou transformation, analyzing the individual components 
while they were separated, extrapolating the positions and 
connections, collating the data with nano-molecular processors...

'There!' she thought as the computers displayed their conclusion.  
'The cockpit is right there, just below the sternum!  All right, 
here goes...'

The Battle Angel accelerated to attack speed, punishing the 
ground with the blinding motions of her legs.  Immense clouds of 
dust sprayed into the sky, obscuring the rushing cyborg from view 
as she hurtled across the terrain, racing into position.  

"You cannot evade me forever!" B-ko trilled.  "My Robo-Pantyhose 
2190c is invincible!"

Suddenly, Gally's black-clad form darted forth from the cloud of 
dust, streaking towards B-ko and her armored monstrosity.

"I have you now!" the Daitokuji girl trumpeted.  "Destroy her, my 
beautiful creation!"

The remaining tentacles sprouting from the back of the artificial 
beast swiveled and aimed their lethal arsenal towards the 
charging cyborg, poised to unleash an unstoppable barrage of 
caustic death.  The black-haired Angel was dead in their sights - 
even she could not evade her fate this time.

The tentacles refused to fire.

"What?" B-ko exclaimed.  "What's going on?"  

<SAFETY INTERLOCKS ACTIVATED> the system readouts informed her in 
tall red letters.  <ABORTING FIRE TO PREVENT SELF-DAMAGE>

"No!"

Through the billowing grey cloud directly behind the Battle 
Angel, along the firing solution her system had projected, B-ko 
caught sight of the two detached tentacles writhing on the 
asteroid's dusty surface.

As Gally had gambled, the internal safety systems on the 
independent computers for the Robo-Pantyhose 2190c's more 
eccentric appendages were programmed to prevent firing when they 
could cause collateral damage to the mecha itself.  The systems 
still considered the two lost tentacles to be a part of the 
overall powered armor.  

B-ko understood what had happened, but she was too late.  Gally 
launched herself like a living arrow at the chest of the Robo-
Pantyhose 2190c, her good hand cocked back and crackling with 
energy, and unleashed her most powerful Panzer Kunst strike.

A concussive pulse vibrated clean through the heavy armor of the 
great mecha, ripping into the vulnerable control systems of the 
cockpit like an exploding grenade.

With a long, hollow groan, the Robo-Pantyhose 2190c toppled to 
the pockmarked ground.

"She did it!" Hiroshi exclaimed.  "Gally just put that musty 
skank RIGHT DOWN on the floor!"

Daisuke started to say something about being impartial, but then 
simply shrugged.  Who was he trying to kid?

The Battle Angel drew forth her Damascus Blade and made her way up 
the chest of the fallen mecha, locating the cockpit area again.  
She felt a twinge of nervousness as she shredded through the 
armor to get to the pilot.  She hadn't held back with that last 
strike.  B-ko USUALLY rode her mecha while dressed in her 
Akagiyama 23 battle armor - if that was the case, she should just 
be stunned.  However, if for some reason the Daitokuji girl 
wasn't protected by her battle suit, it would leave Gally with a 
nasty red smear in the cockpit and a whole lot of explaining to 
do.

Fortunately, her concerns proved to be moot.  B-ko staggered out 
of the smoking ruin of the mecha's control pod, dazed but 
otherwise safe in her form-fitting purple armor.  Gally let out a 
little sigh of relief.

The Battle Angel lashed out with her Damascus Blade and sheared 
the Akagiyama 23's micro-missile launcher from B-ko's sleeve.  
The dazed teenager blinked about, surprised.  

"You want to keep fighting?" Gally asked.

"Ha!" B-ko barked.  "A Daitokuji never gives up!"

The Hunter Warrior's blade flashed again, and the flight wings of 
the Akagiyama armor clattered to the ground.

"A strategic détente, on the other hand, is an acceptable 
option," the lavender-haired girl amended.  

Gally grinned, then herded the defeated Daitokuji back towards 
the Ultra Gate Relay.  Washuu still hunched over the controls, 
struggling to restore the internal stabilizers of the delicate 
machine.  

As absorbed as she was in her task, the genius scientist spared a 
moment to glare daggers at B-ko.  "WHAT do you think you were 
DOING, you little idiot?" she snapped.

B-ko sniffed arrogantly, as if the question was beneath her 
notice.

"Don't give me that look," Washuu upbraided her.  "Damn it, girl, 
you're smart enough to know what could have happened if this gate 
had collapsed!  Are you really that crazy, B-ko?  You could have 
caused a major disaster here!"

"Hmmph," the teenaged inventor replied, no trace of remorse in 
her voice.  "It was nothing that the so-called greatest genius in 
the universe couldn't handle, I'm sure."

Washuu gaped in astonishment.  The pieces fell together.

"You didn't care about Nuku-Nuku at all," she gasped.  "That was 
just a ruse.  You did this... to delay ME!  THAT's what this was 
all about!"  

B-ko raised an eyebrow.  "Oh?  What an interesting theory."

The scientist clenched her hands into fists.  "You... you just 
wanted me tied up here.   You wanted to keep my attention away 
from..." She swallowed hard.  "Mary.  WHAT is happening to my 
daughter!?"

"Perhaps you could restore the gate and go find out," B-ko 
hypothesized coolly.  "But then, who would rescue that poor lost 
kitty?"

"DAMN IT!" Washuu snarled, then turned back to her console, 
redoubling her efforts.  She didn't have time to sit here and 
scream her head off at B-ko.  She'd get even with the girl later.  
Right now, she had work to do.

Her heart pounded hard in her chest.  'Mary,' she thought, and 
her fingers flew across the controls.

- - - - -

Back in the UltraDome, the two announcers watched the image feed 
from the Gate Relay and shifted uncertainly in their seats.  "I'm 
thinking that Washuu doesn't want to talk to us right now," 
Hiroshi speculated.

The big screens suddenly went black.  "That's a safe guess," 
Daisuke agreed.

"She seems to have a lot on her mind."

The low-key commentator sighed.  "She also seems to be having a 
lot of problems keeping tabs on her daughter recently."

"Well, it just goes to show," Hiroshi observed.  "Even if you are 
the number one genius scientist in the universe, it ain't easy 
being a single mom."

"True, true," Daisuke reflected thoughtfully.

"BUT enough of THAT!" Hiroshi belted abruptly, nearly startling 
his partner out of his seat.  "Ultra isn't about introspective 
moments, folks, it's about VIOLENCE!  And we've got some more of 
that barreling your way!"

Daisuke recovered his poise.  "Ah... yes.  No time for thought 
around here."

"Unless you're thinking about flying fists and body-clobbering 
action, that is!" Hiroshi enthused.  "Our last match of the 
evening may seem a little bit lopsided, ladies and gentlemen..."

"But don't let that fool you," Daisuke cut in.  "Actually, it's 
very lopsided."

"And we have a feeling around here that has something to do with 
this man," Hiroshi continued.  "Folks, don't hold back!  Raise 
your voices and let yourselves be heard, because here comes... 
the GROUT YAGA!"

The veteran wrestler scowled at the announcers table as he 
entered the spotlight.  "That's the GREAT Yaga, you amateur!" he 
corrected.

"Oh, my bad.  So sorry."  Hiroshi grinned innocently.

"Children," Yaga snorted.  

The fans greeted him with a mixture of boos and cheers, but 
mostly with boos.  While a few of the members of the crowd 
remembered his glory days as a champion wrestler, most hailed 
from the younger generation, and had yet to learn to appreciate 
his true greatness.  That was all well and good, Yaga thought.  
He graciously acknowledged scattered cheering fans as he paraded 
towards the ring, benevolently ignoring the ones who embarrassed 
themselves by rooting against him.

The wrestler paused slightly to make sure his assortment of anti-
Pokemon weapons were still safely in place at the base of the 
ring, then smiled.  He slipped under the bottom rope and raised 
his hand above his head, calling for attention.  Yaga knew how to 
work the crowd.  It was time to establish his presence here.

"Fine fans of Ultra!" he began.  "I, the Great Yaga, am proud to 
stand before you tonight in this noble arena.  Here, in this 
hallowed stadium, I shall..."

"PREPARE FOR TROUBLE!"

"AND MAKE IT DOUBLE!"

An incredible explosion of screams drowned out anything that Yaga 
might have tried to say, as the Ultra crowd went absolutely 
berserk with joy.  The wrestler glared and tried to shout out over 
the loudspeakers, but the sound techs cut his microphone.  
Ratings were ratings, after all.

A huge corrugated steel platform lowered itself from the dark 
recesses of the UltraDome ceiling as the spotlights danced 
crazily around the descending Jessie and James.  Gone were the 
familiar white outfits they'd worn throughout their stay in Ultra 
- the fashionable pair dressed tonight in pitch-black body 
stockings.  Emblazoned in glossy black satin on each of their 
chests was, rather surprisingly, a large "S."  

The two Pokemon trainers stood ramrod straight, each staring like 
a hawk in a random direction.  They kept their features harsh and 
composed, and tonight they spoke in thick German accents.  As 
they progressed through their new speech, the teenagers took 
turns striking a different angular pose with each alternating 
line.

"To dominate the Ultra card!"

"To celebrate the avant-garde!"

"To scream when the banality becomes perturbing!"

"To rejoice in what things we find disturbing!"

"JESSIE!"

"JAMES!"

"Team SPROCKETS - we are dressed as black as night!"

"But you..." They turned together, both looking directly at Yaga 
for the first and only time in the evening.  "... are much to 
BORING to fight!"

With that, they straightened up, posed melodramatically, and 
stared off into space, as if there were about a million things 
much more interesting than Yaga to look at right now.

The crowd went positively ballistic with delight.  

Yaga hadn't liked the sound of that last line.  "But fight me you 
shall!" he insisted as the sound crew turned his microphone back 
on.  "Here, in front of these good people, we shall see who..."

"Would you like to touch my Mankey?" James asked, not looking 
directly at Jessie but clearly addressing her.

The magenta-haired girl looked more or less his way.  She gave a 
single hatchet-like nod.  "I would!"

"Mankey, Mankey, I choose you, Mankey!" James incanted, tossing 
out a Pokeball.  A fuzzy white Pokemon - basically a round head 
with arms and legs sticking out the side - emerged into view.  
Jessie reached out and touched it.

"He is beautiful, is he not?" James barked.

"Wow," Hiroshi said.  "They even got a new Pokemon to go with 
this shtick, albeit a sort of limited one.  I'm impressed!"

"..." was all Daisuke managed.  Words simply failed him.

The black-clad duo showed absolutely no signs of approaching the 
ring.  Yaga's grip tightened on the microphone.  "I think the 
audience has had enough of your preening, James!" he tried again.  
"I don't care what you're calling your team now!  Here on this 
battleground of champions, you and I will prove once and for all 
who is superior in..."

"Your infantile chatter has become tiresome!" James snapped 
harshly, but didn't bother to look at Yaga.  He simply shifted 
his gaze to some other random point in the distance.

The crowd roared in approval.  Yaga simply couldn't believe it - 
this skinny little sissy stood there, claiming he wasn't 
interested in fighting, and they still cheered him?  In his day, 
the audience wouldn't have tolerated this sort of self-indulgent 
idiocy, not if the fighter didn't back it up in the ring. 

"You have delayed long enough!" the ex-champion thundered.  "Come 
down to this ring and show me your true character!  Now it is 
time for this fight to..."

"Now is the time on Sprockets when we dance!" Jessie interrupted.  
Nerve-jangling music suddenly blasted over the speaker system, 
and the two black-clad teens began to hop and jitter about their 
stage in a series of bewildering poses.

The fans began to dance along with the two Pokemon trainers.

Yaga's face reddened with pure fury.  "JACK!" he bellowed, 
calling out for the Head Booker of Ultra.  "Instruct this little 
brat to get in here and FIGHT!"

Controversial Jack's smiling face appeared immediately on the 
UltraTron monitors.  "Aww, now why would I do that?  What kind of 
cold-hearted guy do you think I am, Yaga?"

"What?" Yaga growled, looking up at the big screens.  "What is 
that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I know they were on the card," Jack elucidated, "but then 
these two poor kids came to me and asked for a little more time 
to grieve over their poor pal Pikuchu's unfortunate situation."

Hiroshi turned and stared at the pair as they danced about 
epileptically.  "Do they look like they're grieving to you?" he 
asked.

"Well, they are wearing black," Daisuke managed.

"How could I say no to that?" Jack finished, beaming at Yaga. "So 
I'm officially giving Jessie and James the night off."

"This is PREPOSTEROUS!" Yaga roared.  "I will NOT be made to look 
the fool this way, Jack!  I DEMAND a fight!"

"You want a fight?" came an unfamiliar voice.  The crowd turned 
as one, and even Team Sprockets stopped dancing.  

"Who?" Hiroshi asked.

The spotlights zeroed in on a figure standing atop the entrance 
ramp.  Standing with her hands on her hips and a confident smile 
on her face was a girl who everybody in the arena thought they'd 
never seen.

"I'll give you a fight, oldtimer," she said.

The newcomer's blonde hair rustled in the turbine-generated 
breeze of the UltraDome.  The spotlights danced across her 
leather biker jacket, midriff-revealing tank top, and her faded, 
ripped blue jeans.  One bright blue eye glittered on her smiling 
face, while the other remained concealed under a black patch.  

"Who is THAT?" Hiroshi asked.

"The name's Roxy!" the unfamiliar girl told the crowd.  "So how 
about it, big man?  You think you can take me down?"

Underneath the blonde wig, colored contacts, and the see-through 
eyepatch, Tendou Akane felt her heart surge with joy.  They 
didn't recognize her!  She'd been terrified that the moment she'd 
stepped out, Hiroshi or Daisuke would say 'Akane, what's with 
that getup?' or something.

But they hadn't.  Nobody in the stadium could tell who she really 
was!  It was working!

"This is an outrage!" Yaga bellowed at Jack.  "Who is this... 
this NOBODY?  She isn't even a registered fighter!  You expect me 
to..."

"Oh, Roxy's on the roster," Jack interrupted.  "And I think 
you'll find she's anything BUT a nobody, Yaga my man."

The wrestler narrowed his eyes.  "You... you planned this all 
along, Jack!  You set me up!  I won't go along with this..."

"You've got no CHOICE, Yaga!" Controversial Jack volleyed back.  
"You chicken out on me and it's a BREACH of CONTRACT!"

Yaga gaped, but Jack was right.  He'd used all his contractual 
leverage on Alberto's behalf this time, and now he had to abide 
by the decisions of the Head Booker.  The newcomer girl had 
already entered the ring, cracking her knuckles and sizing him 
up.  

"Very well," he assented.  He couldn't get out of this now, not 
without looking like a coward and jeopardizing his career.  He 
hated to admit it, but Jack had outmaneuvered him this time. 
There was only one thing left to do.  "Let the match begin!"

][ GAMMA MATCH #3
][ Yaga vs. Tendou "Roxy" Akane
][ FIGHT!

"Roxy" cast aside her leather jacket and raised her fists.  
"Let's rock and roll!" she called out, smiling.  It seemed like a 
sufficiently American thing to say.

Yaga advanced on his foe, seething angrily.  All his planning, 
all his preparation... he had been more than ready to fight James 
and his Pokemon pests, but now he had to contend with this 
stranger in the ring.  He hated surprises.  He hated when shows
didn't stick to the script.  He hated being caught off-guard.  

Perhaps he could finish this quickly.

All he needed to do was stun her - once he got her in his grasp, 
he felt certain that he could demolish her with his wrestling 
abilities.  Nobody knew holds and slams like he did.  

Yaga charged forward, spinning with surprising nimbleness for a 
man his size, using the torque of his body to launch himself at 
the girl with a punch the sporting press had labeled the Atomic 
Blaster.  

Akane braced herself.  She could have dodged it, but she really 
wanted to get a gauge of how strong this guy was.  The disguised 
Tendou met the big man's hurtling fist with two open palms, 
catching the blow before it struck her body.  Her feet skidded 
back on the canvas from the force of the attack, but she still 
stopped the punch cold.

Yaga's eyes widened in surprise.

'How do you like THAT?' Akane thought with glee.  She'd always 
been strong, even Ranma admitted it (though he usually called her 
a gorilla in the process).  She set her feet and shoved, sending 
the muscular wrestler rocking back on his heels.

"WOW!" Hiroshi cried.  "This girl has some serious power!  She 
just met Yaga strength for strength!"

"I wonder if she can match his skill, though?" Daisuke mused.

"Is that all you've got?" Akane taunted.  "I thought you were 
supposed to be a champion or something!"

Her voice sounded strange in her ears - Jack had included a sound 
modulator in her costume, attached to her throat in a near-
invisible strip.  She hadn't quite gotten used to the changes it 
made in her tone yet.

"I AM a champion," Yaga asserted, but he eyed her warily.  He 
hadn't put everything into that punch, but the girl had surprised 
him with her block.  He still thought he was the stronger fighter 
here, but not by much.  A quick finish didn't seem as likely all 
of a sudden.

Time to soften her up, then, he thought.  He waded in, thrashing 
at her with a series of savage chops.

Akane dodged away this time - he still had a serious reach 
advantage on her, and she knew better than to just walk into his 
grasp.  She could tell he was trying to maneuver her towards the 
corner, trap her and close the distance.

That suited her just fine.  

As he herded her towards the turnbuckle, Akane suddenly leaped in 
the air and executed a backwards somersault.  She touched down on 
the sturdy post, then immediately reversed her momentum and 
leaped forward, planting a bright red high-top in Yaga's face.

He flailed at her angrily, but she evaded with ease.  'Aerial 
combat is the specialty of the Anything-Goes School!' she thought 
triumphantly.  She stepped on his shoulder, swung her foot and 
kicked him in the back of the skull with her heel, then hopped 
gracefully back to the mat.  

Yaga whirled to face her, grinding his teeth in rage.

'I'm faster than him,' she noted with satisfaction.  'I can win 
this fight!'

He lunged at her with a high, stomping kick.  She dodged out of 
the path of the attack, tattooed a sharp punching combo against 
his ribs, and danced back out of range.

"And Roxy shows us why Jack hired her!" Hiroshi shouted to the 
crowd.  "It's rare that we see two new fighters in the same 
night, but I can see why they didn't want this one to get away!"

"Yaga can't seem to draw a solid bead on her," Daisuke observed.  
"He's in for a painful night if he doesn't think of some way to 
even the odds."

>From behind the tinted glass of the owner's booth, Tendou Nabiki 
watched her sister fight with mounting astonishment.

'She's... good,' Nabiki thought.  Her little sister, hiding under 
a blonde wig and a fake, see-through eyepatch, rapped her 
knuckles hard against her ponderous foe's body again.  In all the 
times she'd watched Akane fight, Nabiki had never seen her move 
quite so fluidly, with quite so much poise.

And the Ultra CEO understood why.

Martial arts, she knew, wasn't just about physical fitness and 
developing reflexes.  The single most important aspect of any 
fighter's style was their state of mind.  Confidence of spirit 
led to sureness of motion - if you believed in your heart that 
you could do something, your body would respond.  Without 
confidence, all the training in the world meant nothing.

How long had it been since her sister had felt sure of herself?  
How long since she'd experienced something more than her typical 
forced bravado, since she'd felt a true, soul-deep faith in 
herself?  Probably not since Ranma had arrived, she reckoned. 
Ranma with his easy grace, his natural physical gifts, his 
lifetime of training.  Ranma with his thoughtless words that cut 
into Akane's heart and sapped away her self-confidence, bit by 
bit.  Ranma, whom she admired, whom she loved, who always beat her 
at everything she ever cared about.

Everybody knew how to get to her, because they just watched what 
Ranma did.  Mousse called her the "weakest link in Nerima," Marlo 
insulted her figure and echoed her fiancee's own words.  The 
jibes and taunts bit into her sister's ego.  Akane lost virtually 
every psychological confrontation before it started.  

But now, her sister was someone else in that ring.  She was Roxy, 
not Akane.  Not a weak link, not a known quantity.  The disguise 
had broken a dam, and Akane's confidence had come flooding back.

All the training with Ranma seemed to be falling into place for 
her.  The Anything-Goes Style, with its core principles of 
versatility and adaptability, guided her hands and feet as she 
drove home blow after blow against the befuddled wrestler. 

Nabiki shook her head in amazement.  Maybe this would work after 
all.

In the ring, Yaga caught Akane in the shoulder with a two-footed 
Flying Mule kick, spinning her around like a top.  Nabiki winced. 
'Yaga's dangerous, girl,' she thought apprehensively.  
'Confidence is good, just don't get cocky.'

She needn't have been so concerned.  Yaga's kick packed a lot of 
power, but the move also ended with the big wrestler flat on the 
mat.  By the time he rose to his feet again, Akane had recovered 
as well.  With fists she'd hardened by shattering stacks of 
cinderblocks her entire life, Akane drove a series of blows with 
surgical precision at the venerable wrestler's kidneys.

The big man staggered back, gasping for air.

Whereas Akane burst with new confidence, Yaga found himself stuck 
in a psychological hole from which he could find no escape.  Jack 
had pulled in a ringer on him, he thought.  Jack had brought in 
this little monster girl from nowhere and blindsided him.  Jack 
had betrayed him, tricked him, set him up for a fall.

'Damn that man,' Yaga thought angrily.  Without realizing it, he 
had managed to psych himself almost completely out of this fight.  

But he wasn't out of tricks.  Not yet.

"You surprise me," Yaga gasped.  "I did not give you enough 
credit!"

That was the cue they'd set up beforehand.  He'd been expecting 
it to be James in the ring with him, trying some sort of cunning 
trick, but it didn't matter.  The cavalry would come either way.

"ENLIGHTENMENT!" bellowed an unmistakable voice from stands.  
"AND LO!  FORTH CAME THE ALLIES OF GREAT YAGA, DESCENDING UPON 
THE TREACHEROUS JA... er... ROXY!"

The spiky-haired loudmouth of a samurai, Haohmaru, strode 
mightily down the ramp, his blunted sword in hand.  From another 
entryway, his sultry succubus of a partner, Morrigan, appeared 
and sashayed towards the ring.

"It's Haohmaru and Morrigan!" Hiroshi announced for the benefit 
of the terminally obtuse.  "Oh, I have a bad feeling these two 
are gonna interfere with this match!"

"Amazing, Holmes," Daisuke deadpanned.  "How do you do it?" 

"It's elementary!" Hiroshi played along.  "And I think these two 
are going to try to take Roxy to school!  But surely the ref will 
prevent anything illegal from happening!"

Daisuke gaped at him.  "I can't believe you said that with a 
straight face, man."

"FEAR NOT!  MINE PARTNER AND MY LEGENDARY SELF SHALL ACT IN 
STRICT ACCORDANCE WITH THE RULES!" Haohmaru lied through his 
teeth.  "WE MERELY WISH TO BOLSTER THE SPIRITS OF OUR WORTHY 
FRIEND WITH OUR WORDS OF SUPPORT AND... EH?"

The hedgehog-haired warrior paused in his pontification.  
Somebody seemed to be holding up a steel folding chair in front 
of his legendary person.

"Nidoking," came the voice of the person who'd risen from the 
stands with the chair.  "Takedown, please."

Suddenly an immense and severely ugly Pokemon hurtled through the 
air and slammed into the back of the chair, driving it with 
fantastic force into Haohmaru's surprised face.  The sucker-
punched samurai tumbled through the air, cracking his head 
against the concrete steps for good measure.

"What?" Morrigan cried, then shrieked in pain.  Several drops of 
water spattered against her arm, causing her flesh to pucker and 
smoke.  She stumbled back in shock.

"Holy water," Marlo Semaj explained, stepping out from the 
stands.  He twirled a sloshing water cooler in one hand, grinning 
wickedly.  "And I got plenty more where that come from, Bubbles!"

"How DARE you..." Morrigan hissed, backing away.

"What a development, folks!" Hiroshi cried.  "Just as Team 
Enlightenment seemed set on interfering this match, who should 
appear to save the day but the Defen..."

A five-pronged brass candlestick embedded itself in the table in 
front of the two announcers, quivering like a crossbow bolt after 
impact.

"The next person who tries to use that name gets it in the neck," 
Marlo promised gravely.  

"Aaah... right," Hiroshi backpedaled.  "So what would you... 
uh... like us to call you?"

"It's real simple, you genetic reject," the Furniture Warrior 
explained.  "Since our names are 'Marlo' and 'Gary,' why don't 
you try calling us... 'Marlo and Gary?'"

"Or," Gary Oak interjected, recalling his Pokemon, "'Gary and 
Marlo.'  That works just fine, too."

Marlo chose not to press the issue.  "See?" he said.  "Simple.  
We just figured that everybody is pretty sick of having their 
eardrums ruptured by cactus head over there.  And who wants to 
watch the Silicone Wonder here drag her blubbery ass around the 
ring when they can see a toned babe up there kicking Yaga's 
fossilized backside?"

The fighters in the ring had paused in their conflict to watch 
the proceedings outside the ropes.  Akane's brain momentarily 
fused as she listened to Marlo's speech.  'A toned babe?' she 
thought.  'MARLO just called me a toned babe?  He's always said I 
looked like a...'

The first lesson Yaga had ever learned during his days in the 
ring was that you never, EVER turn your back to your enemy.

The distracted Akane found herself suddenly hauled into the air 
by a pair of beefy arms, then slammed hard into the mat in a 
vicious suplex.  Angry stars of pain and shock flashed before 
her eyes.

"And Yaga's got a hold of Roxy!" Hiroshi shouted.  "This could 
turn the tide of the fight!"

"You're MINE!" the wrestler snarled.

The meaty fighter yanked Akane into the air again, hefted her 
parallel to the mat on his broad shoulders, then crashed down with 
her against the mat, using the full force of his three hundred 
pound frame to drive her body into the canvas.  The Tendou girl 
cried out in pain.

"Ouch!  A Cannonball Buster!" Hiroshi informed the crowd as Yaga
recovered from the move.  "Yaga's taking control here!"

Yaga took a deep breath, then scooped his opponent off the mat 
once more.  He clasped her torso in his muscular arms in front of 
him, then spun her body around until she was upside-down, head 
pointed straight at the mat.

"Looks like Yaga's setting up a Piledriver, folks!" Hiroshi 
cried.  "This could be it for the Roxy!"

'No way,' thought Akane, focusing through her pain.  She didn't 
have enough leverage to break out of his grasp, but she refused 
to let it end like this.  She had once chance left.  

Tendou Akane had never mastered a ki-blast, but she'd always had 
a hell of a battle aura.  When she'd battled Sagat with Ranma, 
they'd used that to their advantage to generate a Hiryuu Shoten-ha 
attack every bit as powerful as the one he'd once used to 
defeat the dangerous old master pervert, Happosai.  As Yaga 
readied himself to drive her head into the canvas, Akane 
unleashed her battle aura with all her might.

For Yaga, it was like holding onto an exploding flash grenade.

The sudden burst of ki energy threw the two fighters apart, 
slamming Yaga back against the turnbuckle like a giant fist.  
Akane threw her arms out to break her fall, tucked into a roll, 
and popped back up to her feet.  

The sudden expenditure of energy, in addition to the two power 
slams she endured, left Akane feeling very drained.  But a true 
martial artist never let the enemy see how hurt she was.  "Roxy" 
planted her hands on her hips and laughed.

"You made me get a little bit serious there," she smirked.  The 
partially-blinded Yaga blinked and leaned on the ropes, his head 
ringing.  That aura-explosion had worked better than she'd hoped 
- on impulse, she decided to christen it on the spot.  "How'd you 
like my Bombshell?" she asked.

Yaga stumbled forward, reaching for her.

"No you don't!" Akane growled, throwing herself under his 
grasping hand and driving her fist into his gut.  Yaga doubled 
over, the breath leaving his lungs in a rush.

Akane planted her feet and drove a fierce uppercut into his jaw.  
Too dazed to defend himself, Yaga's head snapped back under the 
blow.

She could have just finished him off with another hit or two, but 
something inside told her that just wasn't enough.  Roxy was the 
kind of girl who finished her fights in style, damn it.  This guy 
was going to remember his ass-kicking for a long time.

Akane wrapped her arms around his thick waist, hauled Yaga into 
the air, and flipped him upside-down.  Unleashing a savage cry of 
rage, she drove the big man's body into the canvas with all her 
might.

"And Roxy just reversed the Piledriver on Yaga!" Hiroshi 
hollered.  "She just did that to a man almost three times her 
size!  WOW!"

"It looks like that's all for Yaga," Daisuke noted as the ref 
administered the ten count.  "The new fighter takes home her 
first win in Ultra."

"What a win, folks!" Hiroshi cried.  "What a great beginning for 
Ultra's latest concrete blonde!"

"Ultra's what?" Daisuke asked.

Hiroshi shrugged.  "I dunno, but it sounds good, doesn't it?"

The blonde in question whooped and threw her arms in the air, 
dancing around the ring in victory.  The crowd clapped their 
hands and cheered, letting loose with one final blast of noise 
for the evening.  Akane felt like she ought to make a speech or 
something, but couldn't think past the blinding wall of her own 
joy.  

The audience didn't care.  All she had to do right now was smile.

- - - - -

Back in the trans-dimensional pocket which housed the Ultra Gate 
Relay, Washuu's fingers tore along the keys of the control 
console in blinding dance.  Sweat trickled down her brow as her 
eyes flicked from one display to the next, her mind blazing with 
computations and estimates.  Somewhere in the back of her mind 
she knew Mary was in trouble, but she couldn't think about it 
directly.  If she did, she'd be lost.  

Nothing could happen without the Gate Relay.  That, above all 
things, had to come first. 

Gally stood at a respectful distance, and even B-ko held her 
tongue.  The young inventor hadn't ever enjoyed the opportunity 
to see Washuu in full overdrive.  It was a rather humbling 
experience.

A voice crackled from the UltraPod camera.  "Uh... Washuu?  Hey, 
are you there?"

The genius scientist barely registered the interruption, her mind 
focused like a laser on her task.  Instead Gally edged closer to 
the camera and looked in the lens.

"Hiroshi?" she said.

"Yeah, it's me," the announcer's voice affirmed.  "Look, we're 
about to go off the air here, but I think the folks at home would 
really like to know if Nuku-Nuku is going to come back tonight.  
Any chance we could get a progress report or something?"

Gally shrugged slightly and gestured at Washuu.  "Your guess is 
as good as mine, guys.  She..."

Suddenly, the Ultra gateway flared to life, the writhing blue 
energy shimmering into the shape of a doorway.  Gally and B-ko 
stepped back as a pair of groping hands breached the surface of 
the energy field, followed by a pair of extended arms, followed 
then by the pink-haired mascot of Ultra.

Nuku-Nuku felt her way through the portal, walking blind with a 
towel wrapped around her head.  The crowd in the UltraDome sent 
up a hearty cheer.

Gally thought she heard something roaring back through the gate, 
like some sort of large animal, but only for a moment.  Washuu 
closed down the portal the moment Nuku-Nuku emerged.

"Nuku-Nuku!" cried Hiroshi.  "Are you all right?"

The cat-girl stopped, then unwound the towel from around her 
head.  She blinked about, taking in her surroundings, then burst 
into a delighted smile.  "Hi, everybody!" she beamed.  "Nuku-Nuku 
has had a very interesting trip!"

"You're not hurt?" Hiroshi called across the speaker.

"Hmm?  Nope!  Nuku-Nuku is fine," the android girl informed them.  
She thrust out the towel in front of the camera.  "But I NEVER 
knew how useful these things could be!  Wow!  There was this 
really cool book, and it said... oh, hi Gally!  Hi B-ko!" 

"Hi, Nuku-Nuku," Gally greeted her friend.  "We were worried 
about you."

"Feh," B-ko snuffed.

"Did you build a new robot, B-ko?" the cat-girl asked, noticing 
the inert Robo-Pantyhose 2190c at a distance.  "Wow, it looks 
really cool!  But Nuku-Nuku thinks the big hole in the chest 
isn't very safe.  You should patch that up, B-ko!"

The Daitokuji heir favored the android with a half-lidded glare.  
"You make me sick, you know that?"

"Then you'll need to go to the vet!" the cat-girl advised sagely. 
"It's not very fun when they take your temperature, but it's 
really for the best... huh?"

Nuku-Nuku was interrupted as a new gateway surged to life behind 
her, and Washuu dashed past and plunged through the glowing sheet 
of energy.

"Where is Washuu-sama going?" the cat-girl asked.

"Wait!" Gally called.  "I'll go with..."

The portal flickered once, then folded in on itself and 
collapsed.  The Hunter-Warrior stared at the empty space.

"Well," B-ko piped up.  "How do you like that?  I suppose she 
doesn't need YOUR help in protecting her precious little daughter 
now, does she?  Can't let sweet little Mary get all corrupted by 
being too near the big, bad berserker, hmm?"

Gally's fingers twitched.

"At least she thanked you for saving her life, though," B-ko 
noted, then tapped her chin with her finger.  "Oh wait... 
actually, she DIDN'T thank you, did she?  Well, there's no need 
to thank one's tools, is there?  After all..."

A whisper-keen edge of Damascus steel suddenly appeared less than 
a hair's breadth away from B-ko's throat.

"Not another word," Gally hissed dangerously.

B-ko shut up.

"Um, excuse me?" Nuku-Nuku asked, peering with her nose an inch 
away from the control console for the Gate Relay.  "Does anybody 
here know how to work this thing?"

Gally realized she didn't know how to get them home any more than 
Nuku-Nuku did.  The Battle Angel narrowed her eyes and glared 
coldly at Daitokuji B-ko.  The lavender-haired girl simply 
smiled, then pointed very gently at herself.  

"Great," the Hunter-Warrior muttered.  "Just great."

- - - - -

Back in the UltraDome, Hiroshi and Daisuke watched the three 
ladies disappear through a shimmering Ultra portal before the 
UltraTron went dark again.  

"Well, that about wraps it up for another show!" Hiroshi informed 
the audience.  "I can feel the caffeine rush about to wear off, 
so I'll be collapsing into a motionless heap in about ninety-
three seconds!"

"You've got that down to quite a science," Daisuke noted.

"Thank you all for coming tonight!  And thanks to all you viewers 
for tuning in!" the hyper announcer cried, gathering one last 
burst of energy.  "Next week we've got more surprises, more 
thrills, and of course more... UltraViolence!  So don't you dare 
miss a second of the excitement!"

"My name is Daisuke," the laid-back announcer said.

"And I'm Hiroshi!  From the all of us here at MTCFF Ultra, we 
wish you all goodnight!"

- - - - -

The Great Yaga stormed into Controversial Jack's supply closet 
office, a large ice-pack held against his head.  

A few seconds later, he stormed out, demanding directions to 
Jack's office from the first member of the This Old Dojo crew he 
could accost.

After a merry little jaunt which took him through the parking 
lot, the boiler room, and a short length of the ventilation 
system, Yaga discovered the Head Booker of Ultra idling in the
vending machine maintenance area, sipping on an UltraSoda and 
discussing some critical decisions for next week's program with 
Mr. Duck.

"Jack!" Yaga barked. 

"Ah, there you are," the Controversial One saluted Yaga with his 
soda.  "Care for a drink?"

"You set me up to look the fool!" the wrestler snarled.  "You 
deliberately used both me AND Alberto with your little scheme!"  
He hoped the mention of Alberto would convey a bit of fear to the 
spiky-haired lunatic. 

"Alberto got what he wanted," Jack noted.  "I doubt he's gonna 
complain.  And as for you..."

"You humiliated me out there!" Yaga growled.  "You led me to 
believe I'd be fighting James, then you pulled that... that... 
that GIRL out of nowhere!  You must have schooled her well to 
fight me, showing her films of my techniques... giving her 
instructions on what to expect..."

"Quite a healthy little delusion you got going there, Yaga," Jack 
commented.  "Which is cool by me.  I love delusions.  They're the 
spice of life, you know?"

Yaga drew himself up to his full, imposing height and composed 
his features.  "You have made a serious mistake tonight, Jack 
Lysias."

"Oh, I knew what I was doing," the Controversial One asserted.  
"You see, Yaga, I thought I needed to make a little point to you.  
Your contract covers one fight per show.  Count 'em - one.  But 
now you've taken three other fighters under your wing, and you're 
wining and dining some more, from what I gather.  Any headway on 
getting Iori to join your little poker club?"

Yaga gnashed his teeth, but didn't answer.

"Now that gives you a little problem, doesn't it?" Jack 
continued.  "All your pals want to fight, but you can only 
guarantee ONE of them a match every show.  That means the rest, 
including you, may just have to warm their asses on the bench and 
wait their turn every week.  Not very appealing, is it?"

"Absurd," the wrestler snapped.  "You cannot simply boycott these 
fighters merely because they are associated with me.  You NEED 
their talent."

"Maybe," Jack agreed.  "But hey, maybe not!  Or maybe I'll just 
take a few liberties with the fights you don't control, like I 
did tonight."

"Don't threaten me," Yaga warned.  "And don't think you've beaten 
me.  Once I cement my popularity, you will not be able to afford 
to attempt these games."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Jack inquired.

"I will be your Internet champion," Yaga insisted.  "You will 
book me into the lineup of Ultra ReBoot."

"Are you invoking your contract?" the Head Booker asked.

"Yes.  I am."

"Oh good!" Jack nodded happily.  "See, I was gonna put you in 
that roster anyway, but since you just used up your contract 
fight to ensure you're gonna be there, I guess I don't have to 
worry about you using it to set up anything else in that show!"

Yaga's eyes blazed, and he flexed his fingers.  "Do not trifle 
with me, Jack Lysias.  I have been playing this game far longer 
than you have."

"Yaga," Jack leaned close, "I have a million ways to make your 
life a living hell.  Tonight, you just saw one of them.  Keep 
throwing your weight around at me, and I'll show you the rest, 
one by one."

"This isn't over," the wrestler shot back.  "I will show you how 
a true booker operates."  With that, he turned and stalked away.  
If Jack was going to try to get in the last word, he'd at least 
have to do it to Yaga's back.

Controversial Jack addressed Mr. Duck instead.  "He don't know me 
very well, do he?"

>SQUEAK!< 

- - - - -

Tendou Akane practically floated around the training room, high 
as a kite after her victory.  Her wig and eyepatch lay on a chair 
in the corner, and she spared them a fond look every so often.  
She didn't really want to practice right now, but she had so much 
energy built up that she couldn't sit still.  

"Feels good, doesn't it?" came a voice from behind.

Akane whirled, taking a step back.  She was still wearing Roxy's 
clothes, but without the eyepatch and wig...

"Don't worry," said the man from the shadows. "Nabiki told me all 
about it."  He stepped out into the light of the training hall.  

"You?" Akane gasped.  

"It feels good," the man in the red fighting gi repeated.  "To 
finally get out from under someone else's shadow."

"How do you..."

"Believe me," he continued.  "I know how it feels to be 
considered second-best all the time.  To always have to measure 
up to someone else.  But I tell you what, Akane.  You've got 
potential.  You've got a LOT of potential.  And I'm going to 
train you so hard that nobody is going to be able to beat you.  
Not Ranma, not Iori... not even Sagat."

Akane swallowed hard.  "You really think I can do it?"

"Oh yeah," Ken Masters nodded.  "You bet, 'Roxy.'  You bet."

- - - - -

Saotome Ranma paused in the midst of his kata, sensing a presence 
behind him.  Like most high-level martial artists, Ranma had a 
sort of sixth sense to detect the presence of other fighters.  
Even while quiescent, the battle aura of the man who had just 
entered the Tendou Dojo left no question as to who it was.

"Hey there, Ryu," Ranma called without turning around.  "Didn't 
know if you were gonna come back or not."

"I had a few loose ends to take care of," the legendary street 
fighter explained.  "I wanted to free up my time to devote to 
training you, Ranma.  It's gonna take a lot of work."

"Hmph," the young Saotome sniffed.  "If Sakura ever finds out 
you're trainin' me, she's gonna be pissed."

"Too bad," Ryu said gruffly.  "She's not ready to be taught."

The brusqueness of this response surprised Ranma.  He turned and 
faced his new sensei.  "What do you mean?"

Ryu shrugged his muscular shoulders.  "It's not that I don't like 
Sakura, but she's still running on hero worship.  She's still 
convincing herself that she can try to use my style and my moves 
for herself.  Until she gets over that, I can't help her.  She 
has to realize this on her own."

"What, it creeps you out or something?" Ranma asked.

"No," Ryu responded.  "My style is meant for me.  It uses my 
strengths, compensates for my weaknesses.  Sakura thinks she can 
adapt my technique, but really, it limits her.  Until she learns 
her own style, she's never going to get any better."

"So how come you're teachin' me your stuff?" Ranma asked.  "You 
and me don't have the same strengths either."

"Who said I'm going to teach you my skills?" Ryu countered.  "I'm 
going to help you bring out your own strengths, Ranma.  And I'm 
going to teach you how to use them to beat Sagat."

"How come you just don't beat him yourself?" the pig-tailed 
martial artist asked.

Ryu favored him with a grim smile.  "Are you going to stand there 
all night asking questions, or are you going to start your 
training, Ranma?"

Saotome Ranma nodded and grinned.  "Okay then, sensei.  Let's get 
to work."

- - - - -

Hakubi Washuu burst through the portal into her dimensional 
laboratory at a full sprint.  In response to her mental cues, the 
defense systems immediately snapped to full alert, isolating the 
power signature for the man she knew she would find here - 
Sephiroth.  Her light saber materialized in her hand, and several 
cannon-like weapons of various size and shaped simply coalesced 
out of existence to obey her command.  

On an even battlefield, Sephiroth could test her abilities to 
their fullest extent.  But here, in her technological sanctum, 
she could hit him so hard that his sub-atomic particles would 
wish they'd never been born.  She sprinted around the corner, 
where she found him in the television room, his back turned to 
her.

"SEPHIROTH!" she shouted, brandishing her glowing energy blade as
dozens of unthinkably powerful weapons trained their sights on the
One-Winged Angel. "Turn around, damn you!"

The silver-haired ex-SOLDIER obeyed, pivoting slowly to face her.  
As his cape rolled gently aside with his turn, Washuu saw her 
adopted daughter standing next to the dreaded Son of Jenova.  

"Mary!" Washuu cried.  "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," the girl whispered, but she did not really look at 
the desperate scientist.  She seemed to be absorbed in her own 
thoughts, a troubled, distant expression on her normally serene 
face.

"What have you done to her, damn you..."

"If anyone has 'done' something to her," Sephiroth responded, his 
voice as cool as polished ice, "it is you, Hakubi Washuu.  I did 
not come to harm this girl.  I came to save her."

"What the hell are you babbling about?" Washuu snapped.  "Mary!  
Mary?"

"Save her from your loving embrace," the One-Winged Angel 
continued.  "An embrace which was smothering her, little Washuu."

"Shut up," she spat.  Mary still didn't move.  Washuu's heart 
hammered like a snare drum in her chest.

The mako-eyed warrior continued speaking.  "You kept her hidden 
away in this fortress, blinders over her eyes to the reality of 
the world.  You tried to bottle her up like your own personal 
genie, but you cannot contain her.  You cannot contain the 
living messiah."

'Oh hell,' Washuu thought.  'What has he been telling her?' "I've 
been trying to protect her from people like YOU, Sephiroth!"

"She requires no protection," he countered.  "No force can harm 
her, not even me.  You, with all your celebrated intellect, 
should know that as well as any.  Yet you persist in trying to 
weave a gentle prison to hold her."

"I'm TRYING to give her a normal childhood!" Washuu bit back. 

"For what purpose?" Sephiroth asked.  "She is not a normal child.  
Yet you persist in filling her head with sweet fantasies and fairy 
tales," he nodded towards the stack of children's books piled in 
the corner, "denying her access to the information she truly 
needs to know.  When her friends fail to meet your standards, you 
send them away.  You build a little happy bubble and don't let 
anything unpleasant pierce the surface.  Why, Washuu?"

"I don't have to justify myself to you!" she snarled.  

"I think I know.  I think you see this girl as your own little 
pet experiment," Sephiroth accused coolly.  "I wager the data banks 
in your laboratory are full of readings and analyses of this 
girl, records of your futile attempts to try to crack her 
secrets."

"Shut up!  I've never hurt her!"  She would not admit there was 
some truth to what he said.  Yes, she had taken readings when 
Mary performed her miracles.  Where was the harm in that?  Every 
scientist in existence sought to increase her understanding of 
the universe.  Here she had a living example of the primal power 
of creation - why was it wrong to try to learn from her?

Sephiroth apparently did not agree.  "You seek to break down 
what you can never understand into formulas and equations, you 
seek to harness and control it.  You are no different from Hojo, 
who sought to tame Jenova.  Shall I tell you how that one met 
his end?"

"Oh, I do NOT have to listen to this crap!" the enraged inventor 
seethed.  She was about to say more, but then Mary spoke up in a
soft, distant voice.

"Please don't pick on mommy, Mr. Sephiroth." Her tiny, subdued 
voice seemed full of concern, but not necessarily for what was 
going on in this lab.  "She's tried very hard."

The Son of Jenova closed his eyes and bowed very slightly, a 
satisfied smile on his face.  "As you wish, Mary.  Are you 
ready?"

"Ready for WHAT?" Washuu demanded, her throat clenching.  She had 
a feeling she didn't want to know the answer to that.  "MARY!  
Come here, sweetie.  Get away from the bad man.  Come to mommy, 
honey."

"I'm going to go with Mr. Sephiroth for a while," Mary said 
quietly.

A thousand daggers of ice plunged into Washuu's heart.

"Mary..."

"Don't worry," the little girl said, her voice still distracted.  
"I'm not mad at you or anything, mommy.  But you haven't been 
showing me everything I need to see."

It felt like someone had reached into her chest with a glove of 
iron, wrenching her stomach around in a knot.  She couldn't seem 
to get any air in her lungs.  "No..."

"I'll be okay, mommy," Mary assured her absently.  "You don't 
have to protect me anymore."

The scene would haunt her dreams for many nights to come.  Washuu 
would lie awake in bed, wondering what she might have said 
differently, what she might have done.  But here, in the heart of 
her own laboratory, she finally reached the end of her rope.  
Months of pent-up worry and terror unleashed themselves in her 
mind, and for all her magnificent intellect she found herself 
powerless in the torrent.

So much pressure.  So much responsibility.  The Metatron had left 
her this huge, unspeakable burden, and told her to find her way 
in the dark.  Not a single hint since then.  No visions to guide 
her, no dreams to illuminate her trail, not even a single burning 
bush with a cryptic riddle to decode.  So she'd fumbled along, 
with this wonderful, unfathomable child following her, praying 
that her instincts would lead her along the right path.

And now, she'd failed.  It was simply too much to bear.

"You come right here, young lady!" Washuu howled, her voice 
emerging in an alien rasp.  "You are NOT going ANYWHERE, do you 
hear me?  You are GROUNDED, as of NOW!"

"I don't think I'm going to let you ground me anymore," Mary said 
softly.  Golden energy shimmered around the two figures, and she 
reached up to take Sephiroth by the hand.

Washuu collapsed to her knees.

"'Bye, mommy," Mary said, and then she was gone, leaving Washuu so 
completely, utterly alone in the laboratory.  

- - - - -

There is a resonance to the movements of the Godhead which few 
souls can detect.

It is like a musical chime, striking a note which echoes through 
the very fabric of the universe, leaving a rippling trail 
behind which gently but inexorably alters everything in its path.  
This is a subtle and profound effect, so pervasive that almost no 
mortal has the proper sense perspective to truly detect it.

The resonance is everywhere at once.  But for the five living 
mortals who had once touched that font of infinite power, it comes 
across just a little bit stronger.

Of that five who felt the resonance on this evening, four lacked 
the knowledge or experience to translate the sensation into 
anything they could understand.

The bearded Sheep Dog vendor chalked it up to gas, and threw away 
the recipe he'd been working on.

Tendou Kasumi felt a strange chill, and found that no matter what 
soothing teas she tried, she could not get back to sleep that 
night.

Controversial Jack thought he heard Mr. Duck say something, but 
he could not get his companion to repeat it.

Dan Hibiki thought he'd sprained a muscle, and ended up spraining 
seventeen muscles trying to figure out which one it was.

None of these four understood the message.

But Lina Inverse had spent her entire life learning to navigate 
the channels of ethereal power, to ride the waves of supernatural 
forces, to hear the echoing footsteps from the movements of gods.  
She felt the resonance, and she understood what it meant.

"I'm gonna get a little fresh air," she told her dinner 
companion.  She got up and made her way out to the roof of the 
inn.

The blonde-haired swordsman stared at Lina's half-eaten supper in 
momentary wonder, then decided not to look a gift horse in the 
mouth and dove straight in.

Lina stood on the shingled roof, staring up at the stars, playing 
the sensation she'd just felt over again in her mind.  She 
thought she might have felt this energy before, tingling at the 
back of her mind over the past several weeks, but this time she 
was pretty sure she knew what it meant.  

There was one way to test and see if she was right.  She began 
the motions of the spell, calling forth the incantation from 
memory:

"A simple light, that is the hope of others
In times of darkness..."

Streamers of white power shimmered into being around her hands.  
Lina broke off her casting, and the energy faded away.  It had 
told her all she needed to know.

"The Kasumi Slave," she whispered to herself.

It was a spell she'd improvised long ago, when she faced the 
power of the [VOID] and its terrible host, the Orochi.  In spite 
of its name, the spell had never drawn its power from Tendou 
Kasumi - she just happened to be the one holding the office at 
the time.  The spell called the power of the Godhead.

The Metatron had told everyone the Godhead had been dissolved, 
absorbed back into the source of creation.  But it seemed that 
really wasn't what had happened after all.

Lina remembered the resonance she'd felt, and now she knew how to 
decipher the message she'd perceived.  "A crossroads has been 
reached," she said, her voice quiet in the night air.  "And a 
path has been chosen."

Somebody out there had the power of the Godhead.  That somebody, 
whoever it was, had just made an important decision tonight.  Her 
instincts, which Lina had learned to trust implicitly, told her 
that it might be a very, very dangerous decision as well.

Lina Inverse really wanted nothing to do with this crazy business
if she could help it, but some responsibilities simply could not 
be ignored.  She looked up at the stars, her cape fluttering 
behind her in the gentle night zephyr.  

"I'd better figure this one out," she muttered.  And then, she 
heard herself add:  "Before it's too late."


++++++++++++++++++++++++
MTCFF ULTRA #75 RESULTS:
++++++++++++++++++++++++

][ JOHNNY CAGE stars in his own death scene, LEI WULONG takes the       
   case.
][ RANMA and AKANE dissolve Team Anything-Goes
][ LEI WULONG is hired in Ultra as cover for his investigation
][ TASUKI finally gets a clue
][ AKANE adopts a new identity: "Roxy"
][ TAROU is hired as NABIKI's Executive Assistant
][ SHINGO agrees to set up SAKURA and LI PING on a date
][ MARY invites SEPHIROTH over for a little chat
][ RANMA defeats LI PING
][ TAROU reveals his curse is cured
][ LEI WULONG defeats ZELL DINCHT
][ SHOCKWAVE ALBERTO defeats ULTRAMAN
][ MOUSSE and TASUKI become a tag team
][ MOUSSE/TASUKI defeat SAKURA/SHINGO
][ GALLY defeats B-KO in an unscheduled bout
][ JESSIE and JAMES (at least temporarily) become TEAM SPROCKETS
][ AKANE (as Roxy) defeats YAGA
][ KEN MASTERS becomes AKANE's trainer
][ RYU becomes RANMA's trainer
][ MARY leaves the nest
][ LINA INVERSE figures out the Godhead still exists

**************
AUTHOR'S NOTES
**************

So going into this chapter, I thought I might try for something
shorter and less ambitious than my last outing.

My wife laughed at me when I told her that.  So did Twoflower.

Well, first some serious thanks to a few folks for their help
on this chapter.  Kristen Smirnov has my gratitude for her help
with some Pokemon research, which saved me a lot of time.  My
thanks to the Eternal Lost Lurker for his contributions - the 
Tarou/Ultraman connection was his idea, and he helped me out 
with some research on the good old Giant of Light.  Zach Grafton
was a tremendous help in this chapter, both in helping set up
storylines with his episode and with helping come up with ideas
for mine.  We didn't manage to quite cover all the bases we 
talked about, but we got most of them.

And finally, big-time thanks to Twoflower.  He was very involved
in this story, and helped steer me around some pitfalls into
which I otherwise would have tumbled face-first.  Particularly
regarding the Akane storyline... let's just say that some of my
original conceptions weren't much better than Jack's reject 
ideas.

Just for clarification, the Team Sprockets thing isn't meant
to be a permanent change for Jessie and James - it seemed like
it would be fun to let them try on a few names for size over 
the course of the season.  

Best of luck to the rest of the authors for Season Eight...

Grayson Towler
June 2001