Author's Note. Producing this filler chapter in wake of the disasters in New York and Washington was not easy, but I felt it had to be done. I delayed work on Tuesday out of grief, but with some renewed spirit on Wednesday after the WWF stated 'the show will go on and we will not be stopped,' I got back to work on it. I hope it manages to brighten your day a little with the impro series you know and love. Pardon any lack of proofing/spellchecking. There is some material ahead about Mary that feels vaguely ironic now, but I've left it untouched since I wrote it the prior weekend rather than adapting or removing it. It's nothing offensive, but it does make you think a bit about violence and what can truly be done when all it takes to cause massive suffering is a shaving kit and a dark intent. I hope it helps make some sense of all this. My best wishes go out to those whose lives are knocked off the spindle after September 11th, 2001. Which means everybody in America, and all around the world. ... { M A G I C A L T R O U B L E S H O O T I N G } { C R O S S O V E R F I G H T I N G } { F E D E R A T I O N } { .-----------. } { | U-L-T-R-A | } { `-----------' } { http://www.mtcffultra.com } Episode 82: Episode 82 Written by: Twoflower w/assist from Greyson Towler (Lei scene) and NinjaDebugger w/Jesse Ellman (Sakura scene) MTCFF Ultra created by: Twoflower The UltraDome was loud. Loud with boos. Loud with boos because Li Ping was getting stomped into the mat by The Great Yaga, Mr. Satan, and Haohmaru. "Well, thus sucks," Daisuke concluded. "But was anybody expecting anything else when Yaga books a three on one handicap match for the main event? The question is, can Li withstand this massive beatdown and rally a comeback? My sources say... no." "YOU CAN DO IT, LI!" Hiroshi shouted, waving his arms and trying to inspire hope in the young martial artist's heart. "Everybody, clap your hands and say 'I do believe in Li Ping! I do believe in Li Ping!'" "Hiroshi, sit down, you're making more of an ass of yourself than usual," Daisuke grumbled. "WORK with me, Daisuke!" Hiroshi catchphrased too quickly for his partner to stop him. The audience roared with chuckling... ...as Daisuke's left eye twitched six times. The merriment of the moment was thankfully (for Daisuke) distracted by the two youths running down to ringside. "And Duo Maxwell and Shingo Yabuki are here to make the save!" Hiroshi announced, with delight. "The referee's disqualifying Li Ping for the assist, but he's saved by his friends and the spirit of youth! He's being helped from the ring, and it doesn't look like Yaga and his cronies are following--" "Because he's signalling for a mike," Daisuke corrected, pointing out Yaga's 'gimmie' gestures being made to the This Old Dojo Ring Crew. "This could actually get uglier, if such a thing were possible..." Yaga tapped the microphone twice to make sure it was on, and ignored the waves of boos being rained down upon him. (I am the heel, he thought with some satisfaction. This is how I control them, how I make them do my bidding. It suits me just fine...) "LI!" he called, as the three boys stopped midway up the ramp. "Clearly you have proven tonight you are no fighter. A true hero would defeat any odds, but you needed your friends to bail you out! It sickens me greatly. But what else could be expected from a gaijin who lacks the spirit and will of a true Son of Tokyo?" Someone tossed a mike to the Li Ping -- but Duo caught it first. "Hey, gramps, I don't see you challenging US to a three on one," he retorted. "You wanna back up those words, or are those muscles really just hot air balloons?" "IMPUDENT BRAGGART!" Haohmaru scowled, swinging his sword in mighty fury (and needing no microphone.) "I WILL CUT THAT ADORABLE PIGTAIL FROM YOUR--" Yaga motioned for his partner to be quiet, and Haohmaru got quiet, which was a feat in itself. "A challenge, you say?" Yaga asked. (Perfect, he thought. Just the set up I needed...) "You feel my fight arrangements were unfair? Li... how would you feel about facing me one last time... one on one... in a fair fight?" Li Ping weakly nodded to Duo, words not picked up by the mike but clearly asking for the stick. The young Gundam pilot passed it over, and Li pushed away from his friends... to stand on his own two feet as he addressed Yaga. "One last time, then?" Li asked. "I'd be real thankful to have you out my hair, Yaga. Since day one in NeoFighters you've been on my case, and it's gotten as old as you are! You want a match? I'm interested. We'll settle this WITHOUT your pals, and without mine. No interference from either side! Just tell me when, and where!" "Where is right here, in the UltraDome," Yaga announced... and took a dramatic pause before the other shoe dropped. "WHEN is the main event of UltraRage Theta!" The crowd, which always likes a good shocking swerve surprise out of left field even when they could have probably predicted it themselves if they weren't so wrapped up in the action, went wild with verbal delight. "HOLY COW!" Hiroshi marked. "We've got a new main event for UltraRage?! ...can he do that, Daisuke?" "Of course he can, he has a contract clause from hell," Daisuke said. "I think Jack's gonna be foaming mad when he hears this. He had some kind of dual flaming barbed wire explosive C4 intradimensional ladder match in mind for the main event..." "It's settled, then!" Yaga spoke. "At the pay per view, I will--" Shingo waved his arms. "Whoa, whoa, wait!" he said, grabbing the microphone. "He hasn't said 'I accept' yet. It's not official until then. And Li, if you don't mind, I've got a suggestion... I don't think you should accept it. Not until we sweeten the pot a little. There's no title on the line... so how about the old guy's creative control clause?" Yaga let his antiheroic look of bwahaha evil fall a moment. "What?" he replied, genuinely surprised. "Heyyy, good idea!" Li nodded in agreement. "If I beat you, Yaga... you lose your power to book yourself any way you want. No more beatdowns, no more unfair matches for me and my friends. You'll just be another happy employee of Ultra like the rest of us. You'd also be at the mercy of Controversial Jack... but that's assuming you lose. You don't think you'll lose, do you, Yaga? I mean, that's what makes you Great, right? That's why you'll accept the challenge." (Play along, Yaga thought. Go with it. The audience is on the edge of their seat. You want to win, but not at the expense of the drama of the moment... the whole idea behind being in the main event is the exposure and the prestige. Don't back down...) "Interesting notion," Yaga replied, after anothed dramatic pause. "You want to sweeten the pot? Let's make it sweeter. If *I* win... not only do I keep my creative control, but I get creative control over YOUR matches until you're fired or you quit. That's fair, yes? You don't think you'll lose, do you... kid? That's why YOU'LL accept the challenge as well." The audience's heads swiveled back and forth between the two like following the bouncing ball of Wimbeldon. Li wiped a drop of blood from his lips from his prior beating... and grinned. "I accept," he said. The music hit, the crowd went nuts, and that was the show. "What a main event!" Hiroshi shilled. "Li vs. Yaga! The final battle! Everything on the line! And after Ranma's win tonight, he'll go on to face Roxy for the #1 contender's match AT UltraRage Theta! There's other surprises in store, folks, you do NOT want to miss this event... and it's only on PAY PER VIEW! This is Hiroshi, saying Good Fight, Good Night!" "And if you don't have thirty five dollars american to fork over for the show, you can always sell pints of your own blood," Daisuke suggested. "That's revolting, Dai. And ironically, that's also the plot of next week's hillarious episode of 'Work with me,--'" Daisuke pulled off his headset, dumped it on the desk and walked off. Hiroshi, left hanging, quietly did the same and followed him. - = - = - = - = - "Not a bad show," Nabiki said, as she walked underneath Tarou's umbrella towards her personal limo. "And an interesting twist from Yaga at the end... even if Jack felt the urge to leap on my desk, pose, and 'swear blood vengance by all things Scottish and minty' on Yaga's immortal soul..." "That's Jack for you," Tarou grumbled. He was getting wet since his umbrella wasn't big enough for two people, but he didn't mind. Not anymore. "Jack's erratic as always. At least he bothered to show up this week, unlike last week. Although I think we did a good job booking last week's show, given the pressure we were under..." "Mmm, yes, I suppose," Nabiki said, as Tarou opened the limo door for her. "But even so, I prefer not to book things. I had an awful time of it when I was in total control of the company, and the ratings were horrible. Jack may be a spaz, but he is the most critical piece of talent we have in many ways... ah, here, your umbrella--" "Eh, keep it," Tarou said, waving it off. "You'll need it to get into your house the dry way. I'll be fine. ...you doing anything for dinner tomorrow, by the way?" "Kasumi's cooking a family dinner. We don't get many chances to sit down as a family lately... but you can come, if you like. Happosai's still on the run after the bounty was put on his head, so things should be peaceful, but keep the fighting with Ranma to a minimum." "I wouldn't dream of causin' a problem in your household, Nabiki," Tarou said, forgetting to use 'Ms. Tendo' as he grinned to her. "I'll be there." He closed the limo door, knocked twice on the driver's window to signal the chauffer to take off, then walked to his own car. He would've been whistling 'singing in the rain' if he wasn't so damned masculine. - = - = - = - = - Click. "Oh no! The lawnmower ate all the garden gnomes! What're we gonna do now?" "WORK with me, Daisuke!" Canned laughter. Click. "--so I'm sitting in the bathroom..... and there's no toilet paper." Audience laughter because it's funny because it's true, or something. "And I'm askin' the guy in the stall next to me, and I say 'Hey, spare a few squares?' and he says 'I don't have a square to spare,' and I say 'Work with me, Dai--'" CLICK. "--train fire claimed the lives of countless waterfowl. When asked for comment, the transit authority said: If the Diet had approved our recommended fiscal operating budget, we wouldn't have these problems. What do we have to say to get governmental cooperation? 'Work with me--'" *CLICK.* "And to celebrate the upcoming UltraRage Theta Pay Per View, we at TV Tokyo continue our twenty four hour marathon presentation of 'Work--" *CRASH.* Daisuke read somewhere that Elvis kept a small handgun near his bedside to act as a television remote. Given gun control laws in Japan, the official Ultra coffee mug he was sipping through would have to do. *fzzz* *FWOOM* And the official Ultra dishtowel he had to scramble to the kitchen to get was great at smothering flames of an electrical fire. "AAAGH!" The official Ultra band-aids and disinfectant spray would also be a boon for skin burns caused by minor electrocution. As Daisuke slumped against the wall next to his burning dishtowel and ruined television and bandaged hands, he had only one thought. It made him giggle. One of those crazy, half-mad, woohoo, hee hee, I'm Napoleon, take me to your cheese, milennium hand and shrimp sort of giggles. Carefully using fingers coated in pink Dan band-aids, he dialed the Ultra marketing department. - = - = - = - = - Sakura and Shingo took their seats at a table at the edge of the Ultra Bar and Grill. Shingo was his normal, slightly overeager self, but Sakura had been somehow... different since her last fight. It showed in the way she walked, like she was treading on eggshells and trying not to break them, and in the way she moved, like she thought anything she touched might suddenly break. "What can I get you today?" A waiter promptly appeared, pad in hand, to take their order. "Sakura? What do you want for breakfast?" "Un." "Sakura?" "Eh. Whatever's good, I'm not very hungry." Sakura shrugged. "Uh... how about an Extra Manly stack of Dancakes, with two plates, and two sides of Yagart, and orange juice." The waiter dutifully took down the order and strode off to post it for the cooks. Several minutes of awkward silence later, he returned, bearing glasses of water and orange juice. "So, what's a nice girl like you doing in a dive like this?" Shingo delivered the cliched line with a lopsided grin. Sakura leveled an even stare at Shingo, obviously not impressed by his attempt to raise her spirits. Never one to let a friend stay down in the dumps, Shingo tried yet again. "I can't believe that Mister Satan joined up with Yaga. I never woulda thought he'd sink that low." Sakura, still deep in thought, pointedly failed to respond. "So, I was talking with Tomoyo, and we're working on a new costume for your next fight. I keep telling Tomoyo she doesn't need to see how little fabric she can use in her costumes, but she never seems to listen." Sakura continued staring blankly into space. It seemed that even the threat of a skimpy costume paled in comparison to whatever preoccupied her. "What's got you thinking so hard? Do you have a match coming up?" Sakura's lack of response could have indicated a negative. Shingo frowned. Time for drastic measures. "Say, are those rumors true about you and Dan dating?" "Wha?!" "Well, that at least got a response out of you," Shingo said, chuckling nervously, "What do I have to do to keep you talking? What's wrong that you're so quiet?" "Nothing. Don't worry about it, Shingo." Sakura leaned back in her seat, forcing herself to relax and think about nothing in particular, as she waited for her food. As she tilted her head back, she spotted the waiter coming toward her table with the Extra Manly size stack of Dancakes with a side of Yagart. "I can't help but worry about it, Sakura. I don't like -" "...food's here." Sakura signaled the approach of the waiter, conveniently cutting off Shingo's latest attempt to get her to open up. Sakura turned slightly in her seat as the waiter approached, and had an excellent view as the young man tripped over the leg of a chair, scattering her breakfast across the floor. Sakura sprang up from her chair and was towering over the waiter in moments, her anger evidenced by her agressive stance. "You clutz! I can't believe this! First you take forever to bring my food, then when it finally gets here, you trip over a chair, of all things! How can they have someone so incompetent working here? I-" "Sakura!" Sakura turned, and Shingo suddenly found himself the target of her anger. His betrayal built up her rage, he could feel it radiating out from her in waves, and he was amazed she could hold back at all. "Why are you def-" Sakura cut herself off mid-tirade and seemed to almost deflate, her anger leaving her as quickly as it had built. The full weight of what she had been doing settled down visibly on her shoulders. She slumped in her chair, anger replaced in full measure with angst. "Just... go get some more... please," Sakura asked the young man, voice quaking as though she were about to start crying. The waiter hurried off, eager to get away from the volatile fighter. "Sakura... what's going on? It's not like you to blow up like that, especially over something so... minor." "I don't want to talk about it, Shingo. It's something I need to work out for myself," Sakura replied, head laid down on her arms, hiding her face from the world. "I hate seeing you like this, Sakura. You're brooding like Sephiroth when you should be practicing and having fun." Shingo's concerned look went unnoticed, as Sakura's head failed to rise from her arms. "Not only are you brooding, and doing a pretty bad job of it, you're acting like you've been crippled. You're not practicing, you're barely eating, and you just exploded at a waiter because he dropped your food. Something's wrong, and I want to help you work through it." Finally, Sakura lifted her head, revealing eyes that were, in spite of her shaky voice, quite dry. "I just need to be alone, I think. I'll see you later." Sakura rose from her seat and was halfway across the restaraunt before Shingo could utter a coherent protest. "Sakura..." The look of concern on Shingo's face did not fade as he stared out at nothing, trying to think of ways to help his friend. - = - = - = - = - The young girl stood in front of the fat man and the little boy, and pondered what they meant to her. She'd seen this side of humanity before. Sephiroth was especially keen on educating her about it... with vivid examples she'd never forget. But his 'education' was so intense, so overwhelming... this was more her speed. Quiet pictures on the walls, captions, things in glass cases. Here, she had time to think, and the solitude she needed to think about it without distraction. The History Museum of Tokyo wasn't a particularly hep hangout with the youth. The only people here right now were a few old folks, some bored looking kids with their families, and other quiet sorts. Mary filtered them out... focusing only on what was before her. One voice got through the filter. "Mmm, interested in history, little girl?" Mary glanced behind herself, at the old man with the bushy white mustache and the 'Hi! Ask me about history!' badge identifying him as a musem employee. "I'm interested," Mary replied, before turning her eyes back to the two half-size mockups. "I'm trying to understand..." "The two bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, yes," the museum fellow said, stepping up and adjusting his glasses to look alongside Mary. "Great tragedy there. Many tragedies piled on top of each other. Still quite a few who would rather not face that side of history again... a bit heavy for a young girl like yourself. Is it for a school report?" "No, I need to understand for myself. Why did they do this?" Mary asked. "Why would they kill so many people?" "It's a tricky question. Mmm. To stop the war, I suppose. Truman felt it was the only way to get Japan to stop fighting. It worked; it was such an extreme act that it couldn't be shrugged off. Some say it ended up saving the lives that would've died in a prolonged war... or maybe the war would've ended sooner than anybody predicted. We'll never know." "Wasn't there another way?" Mary asked, turning back to face him and to take her eyes off the weapons. "So many people died... it was awful..." "That's war for you, miss. War is an awful thing." "Then why do people have wars? Can't they be stopped somehow? What if... um, this is theoretical... what if God could have done something?" "God?" the man asked, puzzled. "Like that nice Kasumi Tendo? Or do you mean the gods of religion and mythology? 'fraid that goes into philosophy, and I'm more of a history expert than a philosophy expert..." "Please?" Mary asked. "It's okay if you're not an expert. I don't want an expert right now. Just someone who can think. If you were God, what would you have done?" "Tricky, tricky. Mmm. Say I was God... it wouldn't be easy, I reckon," he said, scratching his chin as he started to puzzle through it. "I could smite, of course. Strike down upon Japan or America until they stopped having the war. Maybe strike down both of 'em. But that's what they did with those weapons... like a hand of god punishing us. As you say, it was an awful thing..." "What if God removed all the weapons? Took them away so nobody could hurt each other anymore...?" "Reckon that wouldn't do anything in the long run," the man mused. "A few more people might live, some disasters averted, but it'd be a.. mm.. a quick fix, I suppose? After all, man can always make more weapons. If they can't, there's always fists. Can't take fists away -- and if god took our hands away just because they could become fists, it'd be a real mess. Can't take our minds away because they could think evil thoughts, either. You can't give a man food to feed him, because how will he feed himself when you're not giving him food, and what would happen to the ones who survive by growing food for others? ...mmm, lots of questions, now that I think about it more... but there isn't a simple fix there, miss. It's a paradox any way you look at it. I know the world looks very simple when you're young--" "I know it's not simple. I know more than you can imagine..." "Then you know that there's probably nothing God could do short of changing human nature," the man said, with a shrug. "Which I don't think I'd approve of. It's what makes us human, after all -- the struggle inside us. If you really want to know what an old man like me thinks... I think maybe the problem's that we often feel lost, so we lose that struggle inside us as well. It's sad, but if we can't decide good and evil, we're not really human. God can't snap his -- or her, pardon Kasumi -- fingers and nudge the switch over forever. It's just something humanity has to work itself through, or die tryin'. Mmm. Maybe I am a philosophy expert, then?" "No... I've known that for awhile," Mary said. "If God just reached into your head and made you think the right things... it would be wrong. It'd be a disaster, like the time at the Dome when--" "Mmm?" "So nothing can be done at all?" Mary asked, frustration mounting in her voice. "What good is the power when it can't really solve anything? Even if God had all that power, God couldn't do anything? What good am I if--" "What? No no, I didn't mean that. Things can always be done. Don't know much about God's power, but other people have tried in the past to make things better. Tried to help others out with that struggle inside us... got some success, too..." Mary's mood perked up immediately. "What? Who? Sephiroth never told me about that. Who did that? Was it a God? How was it done?" The old man chuckled at the cute little girl's question, and pulled a paper leaflet and pen from his shirt pocket. "Oh, heavens no! No, no Gods. Just humans, who asked questions like you. Many people do, but not many act on 'em like they did... mmm. Here, let me show you on my map where to find the exhibits... this spot I'm circling here, you can learn more about Ghandi. And this one's about a man named Dr. Martin Luther King. And here..." Mary peered at the map, curiously. "An exhibit on Christianity?" "Well, Jesus did say he was the son of man," the old man said. "Don't know much about philosophy. Don't know much about religion. But I hear he wanted the same things you do, little girl. Peace on Earth. A better tomorrow... I don't know. Might be of use to you--" The young girl quickly snatched up the map, and bowed deeply in thanks. "I'll start learning right away!" she said. "Learning about all these people... maybe I can find an answer he didn't want to give me! Thank you so much, ojisan! Thank you!" The old man chuckled to himself, as the girl dashed away in search of the first circled exhibit. Kids today, he thought to himself... and oddly felt quite good about helping her out. More than just the satisfaction from a job well done as museum attendant... sort of a peaceful air had settled about him. "A nice young lady," he mumbled to himself, as he slowly shuffled to the dinosaur exhibit. "She'll grow up to be very important one day, mark my words." - = - = - = - = - Why do people in America want to stand up to play an arcade game? It goes against all ergonomics and economics. Your legs get tired, you're forced to stop playing, which means you stop spending money as well. Sure, the cabinets for stand-up coinops are prettier, but the Japanese sit down style squat arcade booths had little stools you can sit on and relax as you play. I've never understood that. ...is what an arcade goer was thinking, as he walked through NeoGeo Land with a pocket full of tokens to his right and a pocket full of skeeball tickets to his left. He was cruising around looking for an open seat... most of the games were being played by other schoolkids, since the day before an UltraRage had become something of an official school holiday across Tokyo. Usually because the city was busy busing in extra defense force troops just in case they had to attempt to repel a natural disaster coming from the UltraDome. Down Fighting Game Alley, he looked at the back-to-back game booths, one player to a side. All of them were occupied... except one person playing by himself. Who would play a fighting game alone? AI never put up a good challenge when you had plenty of takers live and in person... like himself, for instance. He moved to sit down and challenge him, but a helpful hand grabbed his shoulder to stop him. "Trust me, you don't wanna," the younger kid told him. "That guy is no fun to play against. You know who that is?" He stood on his toes, trying to see over the booth. "Isn't that...?" "Ash Ketchum, from TV, yeah. He's a total pill," the kid said. "Nobody wants to play against him. If he wins, he gloats and does a victory dance. But if he loses, and he loses a lot, he'll call you a cheater. Sometimes he demands a token from you to cover losing his game 'unfairly'. He's been kicked out five times--" A familiar 'YOU LOSE!' speech sample echoed from the speakers at Ash's game. He pounded on the machine in frustration, and got up from his seat. "Nobody play at this one!" he announced to everybody nearby. "It's cheating! Someone must have hacked it. I wouldn't want you to lose your money, too! I'm gonna go demand my token back from the manager!" "...probably about to be six times," the kid said, as Ash marched towards the back of the arcade, shoving younger kids out of the way as he went. "I bet they just like having a celebrity play here, that's why they don't ban him outright. Sakura comes here sometimes, too." "Which one, little or big?" "Little. But never her partner. And some other kid from the show drops by with her... I think she's Washuu's daughter, or something? Her name's Mary, right? And of course, there's--" The sound of an iron grate slamming shut and the big electric blue letters reading 'FAILED' signalled the end of yet another Dance Dance Revolution game. "Hmph! You will not best me so easily!!" Dan Hibiki grumbled, shaking his mighty forearm at the game machine. "I, DAN, shall reign triumphant over your 'Nonstop Mode' much in the same way I dominate the world of fighting! DAN DAN REVOLUTION, OOSHA! ...once I get more tokens. ...and soak my feet in ice water. Ow. Ow..." - = - = - = - = - Like any bureaucratic organization, the police department of Tokyo sometimes moved at an excruciating crawl. It took time to compile the paperwork, to gather the warrants, to process the files, and to generally push a complicated case through the swampy morass of law enforcement procedure. When the press was involved and the higher-ups were nervous, the pace of the machine slowed even further, until it seemed as if the engine of justice was not even running at all. But it ran. Maybe it was too slow sometimes, but it still worked. Lei Wulong had dealt with it all his life, whether in Hong Kong or Tokyo, and knew that above all things, a cop had to be patient. He had to keep his shoulder to the job, keep pushing, even when it seemed like he wasn’t getting anywhere, and something would eventually give. Now, his patience had finally begun to pay off. Lei considered the three folders on his desk, hands folded behind his head, brow furrowed in thought. Three leads. Three suspects. Three possible killers. One of them, surely, was responsible for the murder of Johnny Cage. A cheery, healthy teenage girl stared out from the photograph pinned to the first folder - Kusagano Sakura. Not his first pick for a murderer, to be sure. She seemed about as sweet-tempered and wholesome as anyone could hope, but Lei knew there was something else underneath that schoolgirl smile. Sakura had learned a dangerous fighting style, a technique with a dark side which could bring out a person’s inner demons. Everyone thought she’d overcome her brush with that evil force, but Lei wasn’t so sure. Last week on Ultra, her mask had slipped, and the darkness within had, for a moment, appeared. Lei wondered if she hadn’t had other slips, ones which hadn’t been recorded on the camera. He hoped not. Sakura was a nice girl, but there was evidence... too much to be a coincidence. If it had been her fists which had ended Cage’s life, he would find out. He’d try to see that she got help rather than jail time, because he felt that she could probably be classified as mentally ill, but he didn’t intend to let her slip away if he could bring her to justice (rather than vengance.) The second file was also of a cheerful young girl... and once again, looks were deceptive. Bulleta had shown a near split personality since arriving in Ultra. At times she was a bright and high spirited little girl... but in her matches, she was a wild frenzy of bullets and bombs. It was rumored she was a mercenary for hire before joining Ultra; if anybody would have the skills to execute Johnny Cage so cleanly as to leave no traces, it would be someone with those skills. Likely another mentally ill case... perhaps even more tragic, due to her young age... but she also had a motive. Her arrival came at a time while Johnny was trying to get back into Ultra. Could she have eliminated him in order to get her contract? Her antics backstage had pointed towards foul play to obtain her job, even if Lei couldn't prove her involvement beyond suspicion. What's a murder on top of sabotage and other crimes? "Motive enough," he whispered to himself. "Maybe," he added. On the third folder, a lantern-jawed American stared with a cross-shapes scar between his eyes glared from the glossy photo. "Bean Bandit," Lei said picking up the photo and studying it. If he was a betting man, this was the horse he’d pick in this race. Bandit had a criminal history as long as his arm in Chicago, and yet his participation in Ultra had allowed him to not only escape punishment, but to flaunt his immunity from the law in front of millions of fans each week. Yet in Lei’s experience, a career criminal like Bean Bandit never really changed his ways... and here he had almost settled down with his girlfriend in Tokyo. That was an incongruous element. Still, the American had made his initial fame as a getaway driver, accomplice to any number of heinous felonies, but did he have it in him to commit murder himself? Lei thought so. They’d never pinned anything on this guy, never even arrested him, but Lei had done some digging into Bean Bandit’s background. Before he’d entered Ultra, he’d built a reputation in the underworld as a man that you did not dare to cross. Nobody generated that kind of awe and terror amongst the scum of the earth without being able to back it up. Bean Bandit, a potential killer? Almost assuredly. But was he Cage’s killer? Ah, that was the question. Lei picked up a brown envelope from Bean’s file and studied it thoughtfully. This might have been enough motive, he thought. Bandit had a temper, that much was obvious. If he’d seen what was in this envelope, he might just have been mad enough to kill Johnny Cage. Lei planted his hands on his desk and rose to his feet. He didn’t have enough, not just yet. A few more witnesses to question, a bit more evidence. He wished the coroner’s report would come in, but that had been caught in the snarl of international red tape surrounding this case. Cage was an American citizen, and they’d taken his body back to United States soil to perform the autopsy. They seemed to be taking their own sweet time about getting the job done and reporting what they’d found. No matter. He almost had enough to proceed without that. One of those three had done the deed, he was sure. Soon - very soon - Lei Wulong would know the truth. - = - = - = - = - The night blazed in darkness above the asphalt. Streetlamps glowed in the darkness, dropping pools of luminescence on the road. Black tar. Yellow lines that blur together in the high speed... Tifa concentrated. The tiniest slip, and she'd be out of the race. Her hands gripped the wheel tightly, her gloves normally suited for fighting also quite suitable for tight steering control. She pressed down on the gas, the motions memorized as she came into the third lap. Brake here, just this long, then gas out of the turn. Follow the line, look at the blazing red of the brakelights ahead of you as you get closer and closer to taking the lead from him... Not this time, Bean, she thought to herself with a smile as beads of sweat ran down her forehead. This time, you're MINE... She pressed the gas down, shifted, and started to pull out ahead of him. He tried to cut her off but she swerved around. Finish line approaching. Almost there. Just a little more...!! Then municipal electrical grid unit #384 experienced a three second brownout and both Playstation 2s reset. "AAAAGGHH!" Tifa howled, nearly bending her MadCatz Racing Wheel Controller in half in frustration. "Noooo! I had you! I HAD you!" "Race didn't finish, isn't in the books, never happened," Bean cheerfully reminded her. "That makes, what, fifty losses in a row? It's your turn to do the dishes again tonight!" The ex-barmaid turned sports entertainer slumped in her seat, groaning. "Aww, man... I was hoping to get to the gym tonight, too. I've gotten a bit rusty lately, I wanted to get in a good workout before the show..." "We have a match?" Bean asked, surprised. "Unless things change at the show, yeah. Didn't you get Nabiki's memo? Marlo and Jack have something in mind for the whole Lambda division. Probably a rumble of some sort. Whenever they can't think of something for us, they toss us in a weird location and let us brawl it out..." "I don't pay much attention to the company memos," Bean shrugged. "I'm more of an improv kinda guy, you know? Show up, do my thing whatever it may be, leave. I don't take fighting as seriously as you... um, no offense..." "None taken," Tifa dismissed. "We've got different styles, ne? That's what makes us work great as a team!... but you know... and no offense... you haven't been that interested in Ultra lately, have you?" "Eehh, it's a job," Bean said, pushing his controller away and getting to his feet. "Pays the bills, lets me have some fun each week when I'm booked. I don't look at it much beyond that, to tell the truth. I've had my runs as hardcore champ, as tag champ with you... I don't have much to prove now. Dare I say... I'm kinda settled down." Tifa gaped. "YOU? Bean Bandit? Settled down? This has got to be one of the seven signs..." "Mou, I mean it!" Bean protested. "Seriously! My criminal record's clean and I've got enough money to be plenty comfortable, even with regular tuneups to the car. I can go out and dominate in weekend races around Japan to fill my need for speed. And... well... I've got you and me. I'm a simple kinda guy, and I haven't found myself wanting a whole lot more than that. Ultra's really helped me find my groove in life -- no more shady jobs, no more moving from city to city to avoid the cops..." Bean trailed off, as he glanced around his apartment... the trophy case full of driving cups and photographs of the duo after various Ultra achievements... the dirty dishes, proof in the pudding of domestication... then back to Tifa. "I wonder if that was her point," he found himself saying. "Huh?" "I was just thinking about Ultra," Bean mused. "It wasn't created as a simple ploy for ratings and cash flow. God started it for a reason. She had to have some point when she put Ultra together, right? Everybody's suspected that, even if she didn't let on what the point was... I'm not gonna say she did it just to get me a better life, but... you think maybe she foresaw this? The way Ultra would change everybody who came in contact with it?" "Getting philosophical, are we?" Tifa asked, smiling... and her smile faltered as she recalled how Ultra affected her old friends. Friends like Cloud... "I don't.. really know, Bean. It's possible. But there's been plenty of awful things that came from Ultra, too... if there is some point to it, I don't think we'll ever know. Only one person would." - = - = - = - = - "Achoo!" Kasumi Tendo politely sneezed, but not so hard as to drop her broom. "Oh my... it must be dustier in here than I thought. Akane-chan, lift your feet, please..." "Oh, sorry," Akane apologized, sitting back on the wooden box of training dummies so her sister could sweep up around it -- and frowning as new splinters and dust scattered across the floor from another busted straw doll. Ranma paused with his fist extended, breathing hard. He gave himself a moment for the impact to pass, then relaxed his stance, and fetched the blonde wig and sunglasses from the floor. "Pop needs to invest in better dummies," he complained. "These things just don't stand up to me anymore..." "You could always spar with me," Akane suggested for the third time. Ranma didn't even respond to that, as he set up a fresh dummy and put the faux-Roxy wig and glasses on it. "I can't wait to get my hands on Sagat," he said. "This has been a long time comin'. Ranma Saotome doesn't lose to anybody, at least not twice..." "You have to get through Roxy first, though. She's also a number one contender... aren't you the least bit worried about that?" Akane asked, watching his reactions carefully. "Worried?" Ranma asked, grinning cockily / Tom Cruiseily. "Heck no! I mean, after all, she's--" "Just a girl?" Akane asked, in a tone that suggested saying 'yes' would result in a Pain Sandwich. "A good competitor," Ranma continued, honestly. "I wasn't gonna say 'just a girl'. I'm actually looking forward to getting in the ring with her. I've never seen someone blaze their way to the top of Ultra so fast! She's got some really wild techniques, and you know I love finding counters to new martial arts styles... it's gonna be a challenge. But I'm not worried. I gotta keep my cool if I'm gonna win, yeah? Don't YOU worry, Akane. I'll beat her, beat Sagat, and take home the title for all he's done to us!" Unless I beat Sagat and take home the title for all he's done to us myself, Akane thought to herself. She mulled it over a moment... and with a wry little grin, decided to interrogate Ranma further. "Not worried about Roxy the girl beating you, huh?" "Nope!" "So, what do you think of her?" "I told you, she's--" "Do you think she's hot?" Ranma froze, deer in headlights style. (Technical term: 'Jacklighted') "...whaaar?" "Do you or don't you?" Akane said, voice mildly teasing. "Do you think she's a hottie? I mean, the other male Ultra fans seem to be getting a kick out of her. I even heard Marlo was hitting on her backstage. You're a man, right? What do you think?" The confident martial artist rubbed a hand behind his head and looked at his feet. "Uh, well... I don't know, I mean, I never really looked at her as anything other than an impressive competitor and--" "Ranma, please," Akane said, rolling her eyes. "Get real. It's okay! I promise I won't sock you one. We've both matured a lot since the time I'd whallop you with a mallet for saying a girl was cute! I'm curious, you know? What do you think of her?" "Oooookay... well... yeah, okay, she's hot," Ranma admitted. "I don't know. I think it's the way she's, like... just totally confident all the time. Not afraid to flaunt a bit. Cocky. Like me, in a way. I guess that doesn't make her HOT, exactly, but it's really, uh... it's really something. And she's got a better chest than you--" "Oh, I'd say Roxy and Akane have the same cup size, it's just that one wears clothes that emphasize cleavage more," Kasumi perked in with, cheery as can be. "Akane-chan has a very nice pair of breasts too!" The dual THUDs that echoed in the dojo kicked up some dust, which Kasumi promptly chased with her broom. - = - = - = - = - Somewhere so far away that conventional time and space cannot measure the distance as anything other than 'the opposite side of infinity,' another broom was being used quite efficently. It wasn't chasing dust, exactly. This place didn't receive dust of a conventional sense, but it did get stray eddies in the fabric of space and time. If left to linger, they turned into the temporal equivilant of tumbleweed, which could become a serious problem if you wanted to wake up in the same era you went to bed in. But, a little brush here and there and they could be smoothed out. Which is what he did, humming a happy little tune as he worked, content in the work. "Ne, ne, lift your feet," he asked the old man by the lamp post. "Must keep our happy little End of Time tidy, after all!" Gaspar, one of the great scholars of his world, informal keeper of the place known only as the End of Time did as asked, lifting both feet and hovering in the air a moment as the broom passed underneath him. He glanced at the makeshift maid curiously. "Mmm... something I've never quite understood, you know..." "Mmhmm?" "Why are you hanging around here, Xelloss?" "Ano?" the purple haired Mazoku (with the frilly pink 'Kiss the maid!' apron) asked, pausing in his sweeping. "That's a rather silly question, isn't it? I told you I needed a place to hide. Zelas-Metallum is still a little perturbed at my actions in that whole Heaven vs. Hell thingie..." "Surely there are other places you can hide. I don't mind letting you hide here as long as you don't try anything funny, but aren't you bored here?" "It's a simple life, I'll admit," Xelloss spoke, leaning on his broom. "Keeping tidy, watching television, reading. A life of quiet reflection. I dare say I needed that after the whole debaucle with Cloud; I don't know what I was thinking, backing that particular horse in the race. Mistakes were made; I admit this... but that's all ancient history, yes?" "I suppose," Gaspar said, eyeing him suspiciously. "But, as long as you've got Spekkio's blessing, I suppose I have no problem with it." "Goody!" Xelloss cheered, snapping open a fan. "...mostly because Spekkio could likely hand you your ass on a platter if you tried anything funny." "Mou," Xelloss pouted, his fan going limp. "How distrustful you are!" "I may be neutral, but I'm also a realist. And you missed a spot over near the Lavos Bucket." "Ooooh!" Xelloss fretted, hurrying over to sweep up (without actually touching the bucket). "I swear, a woman's work is never done..." A series of natural chimes echoed throughout the platforms of the End of Time, signalling an arrival in the blue lights of the time portal columns. A rotund figure waddled out of them... and raised twin plastic bags high in the air in victory. "BEHOLD!" the Mu announced. "I, Spekkio, God of War, have returned TRIUMPHANT from my battles and bring much bounty and spoils of war! I got the NACHOS AND BEER!" "Yosh!" Xelloss exclaimed, snapping open his fan again. "Excellent work, Spekkio! Did you get the salsa too?" "Went all the way to El Paso for it," Spekkio said, waddling down the stairs to the main platform. "Only the best for our Pay Per View parties! Hey Xel, gimmie a hand bringing this stuff into my room or I'll break your legs." "Righty-o, sir!" Xelloss exclaimed, bounding over to pick up the bags. Gaspar tugged at his moustache a bit more. "That's another thing I've never quite understood, Xelloss... why in blazes do you still watch Ultra every week? I thought they crushed and humiliated you." "Well, yes, there is that," Xelloss admitted, hefting the bags as Spekkio rolled the keg down the steps with a series of thumps. "But what can I say? It entertains me. I love the spectacle, the drama, the grandeur! And I'm just waiting for my opportunity for hideously destructive and ironic revenge to arise. Plus Lina's such a cutie I can't resist tuning in!" "I figured as much," Gaspar said, unfazed by this. What happened to some television show an infinite amount of years in the past didn't matter much to him. "Well, don't get so loud and rowdy this time when you two are watching. Old men are trying to catch naps out here." Whistling a cheerful little ditty, Xelloss marched up the steps and opened the wire fence grate that led to Spekkio's drab Room of War. In accordance with the strange physics of the End of Time, once inside the room, you couldn't see the other platforms despite there being no real wall between them... just wire fences, and the great void. It took a little while for his brain to adjust to that sort of thing, but he had been camping out here for a long time and now he didn't bat an eye. As he set the bags of hideously fattening snack foots down near the television, his eye caught something. He moved the television out of the way carefully, examining the fence behind it. More specifically, the latch in the fence that would suggest another gate entrance there. He tugged at the metal bit, wiggling it around in its hinge, but it wouldn't budge. "Neee, Spekkio-kun!" he called out, as the Mu worked at rolling the keg up the stairs. "What's this gate lead to?" "Huh? Oh, that," the War God said, standing on its feet to peer over the huge silver can. "I don't know. It's been rusted shut ever since I got here. I figure it's just decorative... now give me a hand with this thing or I'll break your arms." - = - = - = - = - Here, there is no light. Only darkness. But if light were present, the great cavernous chamber would have visible details... Antechambers, with towering statues. Statuesque statues of warriors. Hallways and preparation rooms. They would fit perfectly at a site of ancient ruins, but these aren't ruins; they haven't been used enough to be ruined. The great hallway leads into a larger chamber, one filled with row after row of stone steps. But they aren't steps; there are aisles of smaller steps that run up and down them. The rows are actually rows of seats, all unoccupied at the moment. The seats circle around a central area. In the central area is a raised dais. Surrounding the dais are four posts, with cords tightly bound around them, enclosing the area. In the center of the dais stands one figure, carved from the same stone as the rest of the cavern. It is motionless; perhaps in a poise of rest. Asleep for a very long time, but waiting for something... Two things to note. The chiseled and crudely painted stripes on the statue's torso, which resemble vertical white and black stripes. And the gate made of decorative brass wire that connects the antechamber to whatever lies on the other side... ][ ULTRA EPISODE 82 RESULTS/RECAP : ][ LOTS OF MATCHES that we NEVER SAW took place, like... ][ RANMA SAOTOME qualifying for the #1 CONTENDER'S MATCH at ULTRARAGE THETA ][ LI PING fought THE GREAT YAGA, HAOHMARU and MR. SATAN to a no contest ][ CONTRACT vs. CONTRACT match arranged ** ULTRARAGE THETA FIGHT CARD (subject to change) : THE GARY AND MARLO TAG TEAM TURMOIL INVITATIONAL Boiler Room Brawl Rules, Furnityre Savior Style GAMMA CHAMPIONSHIP NUMBER ONE CONTENDER'S MATCH Roxy vs. Ranma HANDICAP MATCH, FINAL GRUDGE CHALLENGE Team Rocket vs. Ash Ketchum JOHNNY CAGE'S MYSTERIOUS DEATH SOLVED Detective Lei reveals the truth OMEGA CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Dark Schneider vs. Surprise Challenger GAMMA CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Sagat vs. Winner of #1 Contender's Match CONTRACT vs. CONTRACT MATCH Li Ping vs. The Great Yaga